I-Five did not hesitate. “Yes. An obscure sect of fanatics out in the Eastern Expansion around four hundred standard years ago. They opposed the absolute monarchy of their system of worlds, and promulgated tyrannicide. Like the B’omarr monks of Tatooine, they were not droids but cyborgs—essentially encapsulated organic brains in robotic bodies. The name, in Middle Yutanese, is a play on the portmanteau, meaning ‘killers of monarchs.’ ” I-Five’s voice was somewhat more subdued, almost speculative, as he continued, “You want me to terminate Emperor Palpatine.”
three
“I beseech your courtesy,” said Haninum Tyk Rhinann as he seated himself in a formchair adjacent to the couch on which the Sakiyan sat. “I cannot possibly have heard you right. You want I-Five to assassinate Emperor Palpatine?”
“Yes. That is essentially correct.”
Rhinann turned his head slightly to look at Jax, who stood behind the couch, his face devoid of expression. Lacking the Force, the Elomin had no way of knowing what the Jedi thought of this mad idea—though the very fact of his having allowed the Sakiyan to present it proved that he did not utterly reject it … as he should have, in the Elomin’s opinion, had he even a milliliter of common sense.
“You realize, of course, that assassinating the Emperor is not exactly a new idea,” Rhinann went on.
The Sakiyan nodded. “Yes.”
“And that it has been tried—with disastrous results, I might add—by people with far greater resources than we have.”
Tuden Sal raised a stubby digit. “I beg to differ. None of the Emperor’s would-be assassins had any of the resources we possess. True, they had material means—perhaps even more than what you command.” He nodded at Dejah Duare, who had seated herself at the far end of the couch, a frown wrinkling her crimson brow. “But they did not have a Jedi Knight in their number, or the intelligence resources of the Whiplash, or the invaluable services of someone so recently close to Lord Vader as yourself. And they most certainly did not possess a droid with I-Five’s special talents.”
Rhinann blinked at the Sakiyan. All that he had said was true—which made it no less insane an idea. Certainly, with Rhinann’s knowledge of the internal workings of the Imperial Security Bureau they might get close to the Emperor’s foremost champion, and thence to the Emperor himself. And conceivably, with I-Five’s unique qualities they might be able to make it all the way to the core of Imperial operations … but no, it was still insane, there was no other term for it. If the droid were to be captured, his memory banks could and would be scoured for information that would bring down the nascent resistance in its entirety.
And as for what would happen to Rhinann himself—he trembled at the thought. The most meticulous and thorough of the Emperor’s truth-scan agents would happily don metaphoric duralumin-toed shock boots and kick their way through the gardens of his mind and memories, merrily trampling all the delicate neuronal sprouts and branchings underfoot until naught but a bloody marsh remained. Rhinann closed his eyes, wishing he weren’t cursed with such a vivid imagination.
He sighed gustily through his nose, rattling his tusks. “No,” he said. “This is not to be contemplated. It’s nerf-brained, preposterous, absurd. The risks are simply unacceptable.”
“And once again, to the astonishment of all, I find myself agreeing with the tall, scraggly critter in the weskit.” This came from the Sullustan journalist, perched back up in his usual spot in the window embrasure. “I’ve thought about this sixty different ways and every one of them looks too risky by half. If anything happened to I-Five—”
“I-Five?” Rhinann repeated in disbelief. “All you’re worried about is the droid? Have you no conception of what it would mean to the Whiplash were I-Five to fall into enemy hands?”
“Or to the remaining Jedi,” said Jax quietly.
“If there are any,” added Rhinann.
“The droid,” said I-Five with subtle emphasis, “would destroy his memory core if he felt his position was compromised. I’m more concerned that failure on my part would bring severe consequences for Jax or anyone else who might be caught facilitating my mission. For that reason, if I do this, I wish to do it alone. Completely alone.”
“Five!” Den objected. “That’s ridiculous. You can’t go it alone on a mission like this. You’ll need intel, backup, an escape corridor—”
“I can provide my own intel by slicing into the HoloNet within the Imperial complex, thank you very much. I can provide my own backup as well—after all, who expects a protocol droid to be outfitted with hidden laser pistols and other defensive systems? I can also, I trust, create my own escape corridor.” The droid turned to Jax. “I would argue that one of the chief reasons for the failure of other assassination attempts was that there were too many people and too many resources committed to the effort. The more individuals there are engaged on the ground in such an undertaking, the more points of discovery there are.”
Tuden Sal’s gaze was riveted on the droid’s gleaming metal face. “What do you propose?”
“Between myself and Rhinann,” said I-Five, “I expect we can gain sufficient knowledge of Palpatine’s itinerary that we can safely gauge his private locations based on his more public appearances. Once I know where he’s going to be, it should be a simple matter of disguising my virtual identity such that when I access Imperial nodes on the HoloNet, I do so with an alias.”
“A virtual disguise,” Jax murmured.
“Precisely.”
“Which is fine, except that you’re a discontinued model,” argued Den. “You may be able to fool the ’Net, but you’re still a Five series droid. I’d bet good credits there aren’t too many of those near the Emperor. No doubt he’s got the newest, shiniest protocol droids Imperial creds can buy. Am I right, Rhinann?”
The Elomin nodded. “Exactly right. No offense, I-Five, but you are a bit of an antique.”
The droid actually managed to look offended. “That’s as it may be, but it’s not an insurmountable obstacle. The model created to replace the I-Fivewhycue series differs only in a few minor external details. For example, the ocular units are smaller and use a halogen light emission system with a characteristically blue-white radiance; the chest plate has been modified to include a repulsor unit. And lastly, the external bus couplings have been streamlined. These are things it should be fairly easy to cosmetically adapt in my own appearance. And of course, I’ll need a good polish.”
“All easily arranged,” said Tuden Sal. “Even the polish.”
“In that case, throw in an oil bath and a circuit board tune-up.”
“Done.”
“While you’re at it, you might consider picking up the tab for our memorial services,” Dejah Duare said, speaking for the first time since their impromptu meeting began.
“You sound as if you’re planning a costume for a masquerade,” Dejah continued. “Whether I-Five goes in alone or not, potentially he could focus Imperial attention on us and on the Whiplash.”
“I tend to agree with Dejah,” Jax said.
“There’s a big surprise,” muttered Den under his breath.
Jax ignored the Sullustan’s grousing. “This is something we need to think through very carefully.”
“I don’t think so,” Dejah continued, focusing her entire attention on the Jedi. “I don’t think so at all. It doesn’t deserve to be thought through.” She had clasped her hands over her breasts in what seemed almost a gesture of supplication. “Please, Jax. Don’t let your personal feelings cloud your judgment. Let this go. Tell this man no.”
Tuden Sal turned to look up at the Jedi. “What does she mean—your personal feelings?”
Jax opened his mouth to answer, but I-Five beat him to the draw. “There is every chance that Emperor Palpatine—though only a Senator at the time—ordered his father’s death. I should think you’d know that better than anyone here,” he added wryly. “After all, you were the last person to see him alive. He must have told you what he was pla
nning to do after he turned me off.”
The Sakiyan’s bronze skin darkened further—a dusky flush rising from his neck to his cheeks. “He was going after the Zabrak. I figured then—”
“That he was as good as dead?” asked I-Five.
“I don’t excuse my behavior,” Sal returned with some asperity. “What I did then was stupid, shortsighted, and, yes, a betrayal of a good friend. What I do now is in aid of making up for it.”
“My father is dead—” Jax began.
“Which nothing I did or did not do could have changed. Regardless of my actions, Lorn Pavan would have gone after the Sith and died. Even had he not, Palpatine or his acolyte would have eventually learned he was still alive, and killed him. Believe me—that’s the way these people are. If I’ve learned nothing else, I’ve learned that.” Sal shook his head. “My people’s ancestors were warriors, but they can’t match—no one in the galaxy can match—humans for sheer bloodthirstiness. “That said …” Tuden Sal hesitated, seeming to age by a decade in the measure of breaths he took. “If I had taken I-Five to the Jedi as promised, it is possible …” His voice faltered to a stop.
“That the Jedi might not have been destroyed,” Jax finished for him. “That all of galactic history might have been changed for the better by one small action of yours.”
“Yes.” Sal’s voice was very soft.
There was a moment of silence in which Dejah Duare looked from the Sakiyan to Jax to I-Five with an expression of incredulity on her pretty face. When she spoke, her words seemed to be for Jax alone. “Well, there it is. Yet another good reason not to involve yourself in this absurd, hopeless plot. For all you know you could be the last Jedi on the planet.”
Jax shook his head. “I’m not.”
“The last real Jedi, then. Yes, I know you think the world of the Twi’lek, but she’s not Temple-trained.”
“That doesn’t make her less a Jedi.”
Dejah blinked at him, obviously taken aback. “That’s irrelevant. You’re missing my point—or dodging it intentionally. If this plot were to be discovered and I-Five captured, it would lead straight back to you. It might enable the Emperor to snuff out the light of the Jedi entirely.”
“The light of the Jedi?” Jax repeated. “Is that what I’m supposed to be? Well then, should I hide out, doing nothing, until I die at a ripe old age … having done nothing?”
“New Force-sensitives will be born,” said I-Five philosophically. “Someone has to train them if they are not to fall to the dark side.”
Jax looked up, startled.
By the nine gods of fury, Rhinann thought, has he really never contemplated that before? Or did it just stun him coming from a soulless hunk of metal?
“Which,” I-Five continued, “is all the more reason that, if I were to undertake this … mission, you should be as far away from me as possible.”
Rhinann blinked at the tone of the droid’s voice. Was that really wistfulness? The shadow of impending loss? He shook himself. “I think it’s all the more reason,” he said to I-Five, “for you to forgo this ‘mission’ and do what you’re best at: watching his back.” He tilted his horned head toward Jax.
Tuden Sal cleared his throat. “As I-Five so aptly pointed out, he is an independent being.”
“With an OFF switch,” muttered the Elomin.
“An independent being,” repeated Sal, “with the capacity to make his own decisions.”
I-Five turned to Jax. “I do have that capacity, but in this case I’d like to hear the opinions of all concerned parties. Especially yours, Jax. In making this decision, I’ll give your vote the most weight.”
“Vote?” Dejah let out a peal of false laughter. “If we’re to vote, I vote no!”
“As do I,” said Rhinann.
“Ditto,” said Den.
All eyes turned to Jax.
He met each gaze in turn—last of all, the droid’s—then shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I just don’t know.” He glanced down at the Zeltron. “I think I need to go someplace where I can think this through.”
And I, thought Rhinann, need to go someplace where I’m not so likely to be killed.
Probus Tesla knew the peace of the Force.
He had surrendered himself fully to its dark currents and, in moments such as this, he felt the power of those currents moving about him and within him, buoying him up, tugging at him, washing through him.
Cleansing him.
The Force was contentment. It was purpose. It was all. To be an instrument of justice, to believe absolutely in the righteousness of that justice, conferred great power … and without the concomitant responsibility. He was a young man, barely into his twenties; young enough that power without accountability was a heady combination. Young enough that the speed of his rise through the Inquisitorius filled him with fierce, hot pride. To be picked out of a literal army of applicants and made the personal factotum of the Dark Lord himself—it was a dream come true. To hone his power under the tutelage of Darth Vader was to drink from water very pure, very close to the Source, indeed.
Now he stood in Vader’s presence and felt that purity of power flowing over him in thrilling waves. It was all he could do not to grin drunkenly with pleasure, but he kept his face composed and his spirit calm as he received his orders from his master.
In fact, he noted with bemusement, his mentor seemed less serene than he was. The Dark Lord had been pacing when Tesla had entered the room, and had not ceased doing so in the time the young Inquisitor had stood silently, awaiting his lord’s pleasure.
At last Vader spoke, his voice washing over his acolyte like a deep, cooling tide. “I have sought Jax Pavan for some time now. I have, indeed, made it a priority, for reasons I have not shared with you. I commend you on your sense of duty, Inquisitor. Ever since I brought you in on this, you have not questioned my orders, though I sense you are curious about them.
“Now I have a new quest for you.”
Tesla blinked. A new quest? He had yet to complete the old one. “My lord, I am close to finding Jax Pavan,” he said in cool, even tones. “I am sure of it. I’ve been working one sector at a time, and—” A horrific thought occurred to him. “Do you believe me incapable?”
Vader paused in his pacing and raised a gloved hand. “Nonsense. I believe you quite capable. It is because of that that I am giving you this new mandate. When you find Pavan, you are neither to challenge him nor to harm him. Your mission will not be complete until you have found the protocol droid that has been his sometime companion—the I-Fivewhycue unit that reportedly was the property of Pavan’s father. Pavan is a means to an end: find Pavan and let him lead you to the droid. Of course, if you should be able to locate the droid in some other way, Pavan can wait.”
Had he heard right? Tesla shook himself mentally. It took every bit of discipline he possessed to remain stone-faced. He was somewhat taken aback when Vader sensed his dismay.
“Is there a problem, Inquisitor?”
“No, my lord.” No, no problem, save that he had just been assigned to the scut work of locating a droid.
A droid.
You sent a stormtrooper on a fetch-and-carry mission like that. A lackey, someone with no special skills. Droids had no affinity with the Force, so sending a Force-sensitive on an errand like this was … well, at best, it was a waste of resources. At worst, it was a slap in the face.
“I am aware,” Lord Vader said, the insectoid lenses of his mask trained on the Inquisitor, “that this presents more of a challenge. A droid is not Force-sensitive and thus will not reveal itself in that way to someone who is. But I have had it suggested to me that this is no ordinary droid.”
As if that made it any less an insult. More of a challenge, indeed. Did Vader imagine he was speaking to a drooling Padawan?
But Probus Tesla was a professional. Despite his young age, he was a veteran of many such missions. He would perform whatever duty his lord deemed necessary, no matter how
demeaning it was.
He raised his head to watch Darth Vader stride to the well-camouflaged window of his sanctum, where he looked out at the cityscape below and beyond. There was no reading the face hidden forever behind the obsidian mask, no body language to observe beneath the folds of the soot-dark robes. Nothing but that earlier pacing, which indicated a certain disquietude.
It occurred to Tesla that this was a test, not of his Force abilities, perhaps, but of his loyalty and his perseverance. He squared his shoulders and aligned his spine. One thing he was sure of—something about this particular quest agitated the Dark Lord. Perhaps if Tesla completed his mission, he would find out what it was.
With that in mind he bowed deeply from the waist, knowing that his lord could see his reflection in the window. “Regardless of what kind of droid it is, my lord, I will find it for you. And when I find it?”
“Bring it to me,” his master said shortly. “In one piece and operative. And if possible, bring Pavan as well—in the same condition.”
“As you wish, my lord,” Tesla said and bowed yet again. He did not let his emotions show—not his disappointment, not his curiosity, not his hope that this was merely a gateway to greater things.
The Force would be with him, as it always was. Perhaps it would help him find this droid, somehow. And just maybe, he’d get lucky and catch a Jedi as well.
four
Probus Tesla.
There it was again—that name. That face.
Haninum Tyk Rhinann increased the magnification of his holodisplay and peered at the freeze-frame image of the Inquisitor he’d heard other members of the Whiplash refer to as “the Bloodfiend.”
This was a human designation, originally a variant breed of terentatek used for tracking down sentients with an affinity for the Force—in particular, humans. The idea that humans hunted their own kind did not surprise Rhinann overly much, but knowing the provenance of the sobriquet in relation to Probus Tesla chilled him to the bone. Tesla was called the Bloodfiend because of his ability to “sniff out” his prey—Force-sensitive humans. He was steeped in the dark side, and it was said his sense of the Force was so delicately and exquisitively balanced that he could pinpoint its usage by a single being in a crowd of a million.
Star Wars: Coruscant Nights III: Patterns of Force Page 4
