Tarkin

The Emperor's new spies

SIMILAR IN DESIGN to the pinnacle room, the audience chamber on the penultimate level of the central spire was a circular space, but without partitions and featuring a ten-meter-tall podium reserved for the Emperor, who accessed it by private turbolift from his residence. Tarkin arrived by means of the more public turbolift, entering the vast room to find nearly a dozen people waiting, all of whom he knew or recognized, loosely divided into three groups that made up the Empire’s uppermost tiers. First, and positioned closest to the podium, was the Ruling Council, represented just then by Ars Dangor, Sate Pestage, and Janus Greejatus, all three dressed in baggy costumes of riotous color and floppy hats more befitting a night at the Coruscant Opera. More or less on equal footing, the two other groups were made up of members from the Imperial Security Bureau and the more recently created Naval Intelligence Agency, with Harus Ison and Colonel Wullf Yularen speaking for the former, and Vice Admirals Rancit and Screed for the latter. Feeling like the odd man out, Tarkin gravitated to where Mas Amedda and Darth Vader were standing, off to one side of the podium.

Tarkin acknowledged his military comrades with a friendly nod to each. Some he had known since his academy days; others he had served with during the Clone Wars. Interestingly, the Emperor’s advisers were also a kind of clique, having attached themselves to the Emperor since his early years as an untested senator from Naboo. Perhaps their outlandish garb was in some sense a tribute to the sartorial extravagance of Naboo’s nobility. Even those who should have known better tended to dismiss Dangor, Greejatus, and Pestage as sycophants, when in fact members of the Ruling Council oversaw the everyday affairs of the Empire and wielded wide-ranging and sometimes menacing powers. Even the Empire’s twenty Moffs were obligated to answer to the Imperial cadre.

On receiving a signal from the Emperor, Amedda banged his statue-tipped staff on the floor as a sign that the briefing should commence. First to step forward was white-haired ISB deputy director Ison, who bowed to the Emperor before turning to address everyone else in the chamber.

“My lords, Moff Tarkin, Admirals … With your permission, and for the benefit of those of you who may not be fully conversant with the matter at hand, I offer a brief summary. Three weeks ago, one of our intelligence assets reported a startling find on Murkhana.”

Tarkin came to full alert at Ison’s mention of the former Separatist stronghold world.

“Due to the nature of the find, ISB wasted no time in bringing the matter to the attention of the Ruling Council, as well as to our counterparts in Military Intelligence.” Ison glanced at Rancit and Screed. Having lost an eye in the war, Screed was sporting a cybernetic implant. “Normally ISB would have pursued an investigation on its own, but on Vizier Amedda’s recommendation we are opening it up to discussion, in the hope of resolving how best to proceed.”

Tarkin wasn’t surprised by Ison’s equivocal introduction. ISB functioned under the auspices of COMPNOR, the Commission for the Preservation of the New Order, which itself had arisen from the dregs of the Commission for the Protection of the Republic, and the deputy director was determined to spearhead the investigation without appearing overly proprietary and ambitious. And so he was generously “opening the matter up to discussion,” when it was clearly his hope that the Ruling Council would grant ISB full oversight, exempting the bureau from having to share sensitive information with Military Intelligence or anyone else.

“Please don’t leave us hanging, Deputy Director,” Amedda said in his most sniping voice, “and come to the point.”

Tarkin watched Ison’s square jaw clench. The deputy director was surely biting his tongue, as well.

“The Murkhana discovery consists of a cache of communications devices,” Ison said. “Signal interrupters, jammers, eradicators, and other apparatus, which, to ISB, suggests evidence of a potential stratagem to incapacitate the HoloNet, as was temporarily achieved by the Separatists during the Clone Wars.”

Obviously in the dark about the find, advisers Greejatus and Dangor traded looks of bewilderment. Where Greejatus’s dark sunken eyes and puffy face granted him an ominous look, Dangor’s long, braided mustachios and broad, furrowed brow imparted a bit of élan to an otherwise surly aspect.

“Director Ison,” Dangor said, “perhaps these devices — though recently discovered — are nothing more than a cache left over from the war. They may even have been discovered elsewhere by beings unfamiliar with such devices, and relocated to their present site.”

Ison had an answer ready. “That’s entirely possible. The cache is so large that our agent didn’t have time to inspect every crate and container, much less catalog every component. However, his preliminary report suggests that some of the devices may not have been available to the Confederacy during the war.”

“Accepting that at face value for the moment,” Dangor went on, “what importance do you attach to this technological trove?”

Colonel Yularen took over for Ison. “My lords, ISB fears that political dissenters may be planning to launch a propaganda operation similar to the wartime Shadowfeeds but directed, of course, against the Empire.”

Close to Tarkin’s age — though with more gray in his hair and especially in his bushy mustache — Yularen had traded a distinguished career in the Republic Navy for a position in Imperial Security, heading a division devoted to exposing instances of sedition in the Senate. He now served as a liaison between ISB and Military Intelligence. But not everyone in the audience chamber was touched by the colonel’s justified concerns. In fact, Greejatus appeared to be cackling.

“That’s a bit far-fetched, Colonel,” he managed to say, “even for ISB.”

“Has there been any evidence of HoloNet tampering that might support such a claim?” Dangor asked in a more serious tone.

“Yes, there has,” Yularen said, though without explanation or so much as a glance in Tarkin’s direction.

Vice Admiral Rancit stepped forward to speak. “My lords, while Naval Intelligence agrees with ISB regarding the possibility of HoloNet sabotage, we feel that Deputy Director Ison is understating the importance of the evidence and the real nature of the threat. Yes, Count Dooku succeeded in using the HoloNet for Separatist propaganda purposes, but Republic forces were quick to shut down those Shadowfeeds.” He looked at Ison. “If memory serves, COMPOR itself was established as a result of the navy’s actions at the time.”

“No one in this chamber needs a history lesson, Vice Admiral,” Ison interrupted. “Do you actually intend to go down that path?”

Rancit made a calming gesture. Exceedingly tall, he had a full head of jet-black hair and the symmetrical facial features of a HoloNet idol. The fit of his uniform was equal to if not superior to the fit of Tarkin’s.

“I’m merely pointing out that Naval Intelligence should not be left out of the loop here,” Rancit said. “For all anyone knows, this newly discovered cache is merely part of a much more sinister plot — one that could require military intervention.”

Ison shot Rancit a polar look. “You weren’t worried about the cache when it was first brought to your attention. Now all of a sudden you’re convinced that it’s part of a plot against the Empire?”

Rancit spread his hands theatrically. “What became of opening the matter to discussion, Deputy Director?”

Tarkin smiled to himself. His history with Rancit went back even farther than his history with Yularen. Rancit had been born in the Outer Rim, had graduated from the naval academy on Prefsbelt, and served as an intelligence case officer and station chief during the Clone Wars, dispatching operatives to Separatist-occupied worlds to foment resistance movements. After the war, he had commanded Sentinel Base during the mobile battle station’s initial stage of construction, while Tarkin had been busy doling out punishments to former Separatist worlds. Replaced at Sentinel by Tarkin — a circumstance Rancit’s rivals enjoyed interpreting as a demotion — he had been reassigned by the Emperor himself to head Naval Intelligence. Fond of art and opera, he was a very visible presence on Coruscant, though few were aware of the covert nature of his work.

As the backbiting between Rancit and Ison continued, Tarkin was tempted to raise his eyes to the podium to see if the Emperor was smiling, since it was his policy to encourage misunderstanding as a means of having his subordinates keep watch over one another. A form of institutionalized suspicion, the policy had proven an efficient fear tactic. He recalled Nils Tenant’s wariness in the Palace corridors. The competition for status and privilege and the jockeying for position brought to mind the waning years of the Republic, but with one major difference: Where during the Republic era cachet could be purchased, present-day power was at the whim of the Emperor.

“Now who’s understating the risk,” Ison was saying, “despite abundant evidence to the contrary?”

Rancit kept his head. “We would have been glad to step aside and allow ISB full oversight if not for recent events.” He made no secret of looking directly at Tarkin.

“What recent events?” Dangor asked, glancing back and forth between Rancit and Tarkin.

Mas Amedda banged his staff on the floor in a call for quiet. “Governor Tarkin, if you please,” he said.

Tarkin stepped out from between Amedda and Vader to place himself where everyone in the chamber could see him.

“As regards the matter of whether ISB, Naval Intelligence, or some combination of our various intelligence agencies should be tasked with the investigation, I offer no opinion. I will allow, however, that the concerns of Deputy Director Ison and Vice Admiral Rancit are warranted. A base under my command was recently attacked by unknown parties. The attack followed the successful sabotaging of a HoloNet relay station and the insertion of both prerecorded and real-time holovids, in an attempt to mislead us into dispatching reinforcements to a secondary base. The details of my after-action report are available to anyone here with proper clearance, but suffice it to say that if a connection exists between the discovery on Murkhana and the sneak attack on the base, then it stands to reason that something more nefarious than anti-Imperial propaganda may be in the works.”

Ison nearly groaned, and the Emperor’s advisers conferred in confidence before Dangor said: “With all due respect, Governor Tarkin, it is my understanding that this base you go to some lengths to leave unidentified is far removed from Murkhana — on the order of several sectors.”

Tarkin gestured negligently. “Irrelevant. Communications devices are cobbled together in one place to be deployed elsewhere. What’s more, we’ve seen incidents of attack in many sectors these past five years.”

“By pirates and outlaws,” Greejatus said.

Tarkin shook his head. “Not in every instance.”

“The Separatist war machines were shut down,” Dangor went on. “Their droid warships were confiscated or destroyed.”

“Most were,” Tarkin said. “Clearly, some escaped our notice or were made available by insiders to a host of new enemies.”

Ison glared at him. “Are you accusing ISB—”

“Review my report,” Tarkin said, cutting Ison off.

“Furthermore, not every Separatist warship was crewed by droids,” Rancit said. “As Governor Tarkin can attest, our navy was still chasing Separatist holdouts as late as a year ago.”

Sate Pestage, who had remained silent throughout the meeting, spoke up. “Governor Tarkin, we’re curious to know how you knew you were being deceived at your base of operations.” With his shaved head, pointed chin beard, and raking eyebrows, Pestage resembled some of the pirates Outland had chased through the Seswenna.

Rancit stepped forward before Tarkin could utter a word. “May I, Wilhuff?”

Tarkin nodded and stepped back.

“Governor Tarkin—Moff Tarkin,” Rancit began, “back when he was merely Commander Tarkin, was personally instrumental in frustrating Count Dooku’s propaganda efforts. I know this to be fact because I was the case officer who supplied him with counterintelligence operatives. No doubt he was able to identify specific elements of corruption in the false holofeed — corruption even the Separatists were unable to purge from their intrusion signals.” He turned to Tarkin. “How am I doing?”

Tarkin nodded in appreciation. “My lords, that is the long and short of it. I recognized telltale noise in the holovid and knew then that the feed was originating at the HoloNet relay station and not being transmitted from our auxiliary base.” He paused to glance around the chamber. “Regardless, my first recommendation to the Joint Chiefs would be to issue an advisory to our base commanders that they should double-check the encryption codes of all Imperial HoloNet transmissions.”

Again the advisers leaned toward one another to confer, while Ison exchanged rancorous looks with Rancit and Screed. Tarkin returned to where he had been standing with Vader, who simply cast a downward gaze at him. After a long moment, Mas Amedda’s staff struck the floor with finality.

“The Emperor will take the matter under advisement.”