Jax blinked at the seeming paradox, but realized he understood what Yimmon was saying. There were lies told with the intent to actively deceive and lies told merely to deflect or protect.
“And that,” Jax said, “brings me to my second question—Tuden Sal.”
“Also a trusted operative.”
“Has he told you about his plan?”
Laranth and Yimmon exchanged glances. Then Yimmon said, “We had spoken of him putting together a special cell that would undertake especially dangerous missions.”
Jax knew no other way to say it than straight out. “He wants I-Five to assassinate Emperor Palpatine.”
Laranth turned a deeper shade of green, and Yimmon’s eyes widened. Neither said anything, but waited for him to continue.
“The rationale is that a droid’s thoughts would not be readable by the Force, so his intentions would be masked and his presence unnoted. He’d be disguised, of course, to look like a threepio or some other similar protocol droid. And since he has no programming to prevent him from doing an organic harm …”
Thi Xon Yimmon was nodding, his eyes veiled. “Yes, of course. The logic is impeccable.”
“But what do you think of the plan?”
“What do you think of it?”
“I’m of two minds—almost literally. First, understand that Sal has been less than trustworthy in … well, I can’t talk about my experience, but certainly as regards my father and I-Five.”
Yimmon looked genuinely saddened. “Yes, Tuden Sal told me quite openly of his betrayal. He feels compelled to ‘set things straight,’ as he put it.”
“He has very personal reasons for wanting the Emperor dead,” Jax said. “His family was torn apart over it. He had to send his wife and children away to save their lives—or so he says. And he lost pretty much everything, all in the course of an afternoon—the same afternoon he sold I-Five into service. In the end he didn’t even have the credits from that deal to sustain him. He blames the Emperor and Black Sun in equal parts, and since the Empire allows Black Sun to flourish …” He shrugged.
Thi Xon Yimmon nodded. “And to you these don’t seem like good reasons to put your friends in harm’s way?”
“To feed another man’s vengeance? No. But he’s also made some points about what the continued existence of the Emperor means to the Whiplash, to the Jedi, to the people who live under the Empire’s rule. Those are things I can’t ignore.”
“And those would be your reasons to allow I-Five to undertake what would almost certainly be a suicide mission?”
“He’s agreed to abide by my decision. I’m just not sure …”
“Are those your reasons, Jax?” Laranth asked, suddenly bristling with intensity.
“I … I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“You said Tuden Sal was a man bent on vengeance. What about you? Are you bent on vengeance as well?”
He stared at her, feeling as if she’d looked down into his soul and read his deepest fears. He felt Thi Xon Yimmon’s gaze on him, too, and resisted the impulse to shield himself from them both. Instead, he gave himself up for their scrutiny. Casting open his mind, holding Laranth’s gaze, he said, “You tell me. Please. That’s why this decision has been so difficult for me. I’m … I’m afraid that my reasons for seeking Palpatine’s death might be closer to Sal’s real reasons than I know. I’ve come to understand in recent times that I’m not always honest with myself about things.”
He didn’t mention that by recent he meant less than an hour earlier at Sil’s Place.
“I’m a Jedi, Laranth. If I want to stay a Jedi, I can’t be a man bent on vengeance. I don’t think that’s what I am, but I can’t tell I-Five to do this thing unless I’m sure. Or at least more sure than I am now. He’s ready to turn himself into a weapon and put the use of that weapon in my hands.”
Laranth held his gaze a moment longer, then lowered her eyes. “There are many reasons why Palpatine should die. He’s a blight on the galaxy—he and the Sith. Yes, I know the theories about cosmic balance and the philosophies about the duality of the Force—” She flicked a glance aside at Yimmon as if this was an ongoing discussion. “But I don’t believe them. Evil is as evil does.”
“Yes,” said Yimmon gently. “And if that’s so, and if Jax commits himself and his team in an attempt to take Palpatine’s life, then what distinguishes him from those who represent the dark side?”
Laranth’s eyes flashed. “Then isn’t fighting evil itself evil? When Kaj killed that Inquisitor to save himself, wasn’t that act evil?”
“That was an instinctive act of self-defense. Tuden Sal is talking about premeditatedly entering Palpatine’s territory and killing him. Hardly an act of self-defense.”
“But haven’t you always told me that to do battle in defense of others is noble? That even anger can be positive if it is directed at injustice? The Emperor’s death would save uncounted billions from injustice, and from the horrors visited on the Jedi, the M’haelians, the Caamasi—and the Force knows how many others.”
Her voice was low but impassioned. Seeing again her aura composed of blazing, white-hot strands, Jax felt a resurgence of admiration for the Twi’lek.
Thi Xon Yimmon inclined his head slightly, then turned to Jax. “A quandary. I fear we have given you no solace.”
“I didn’t come for solace. I came for your thoughtful consideration—for your wisdom. For that, I thank you.” Jax stood, bowed respectfully, and left the Whiplash headquarters.
As he went, Thi Xon Yimmon’s softly spoken words still rang in his ears: If Jax commits himself and his team to Palpatine’s assassination, then what distinguishes him from those who represent the dark side?
He had no answer to that.
seventeen
“Do you think the Sullustan has it?” Rhinann pitched his voice low so that only Dejah, alone in the kitchen with him, would hear.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye as she continued to chop silverleaf into a salad bowl. “If he does, he’s taken it offworld with him,” she said. “And no, it’s not among his personal effects—I checked. If he has it, it’s on his person.” She looked at the wall chrono. “And along about now, I’m guessing that his person is on board a starliner headed back to Sullust.”
Rhinann felt a shot of cold run from his horned head to the soles of his feet. “Are you sure?”
“That he’s gone or that he’s gone with the bota?”
“Both.”
“I’m sure, on both counts. It took him quite some time to screw up his courage to leave, judging from the trace smells he left behind.”
Rhinann snorted an involuntary arpeggio. “Why would he have to screw up his courage to leave? It’s staying here that’s dangerous.”
“Yes, but that’s the problem inherent in attachment. He’s in love with the Sullustan woman he just heard from—or at least he thinks he is—but he’s also loyal to I-Five … and Jax, too, when it comes to it. He loves them. He’s attached. He was at home with them—at least he was before I came along.” She smiled and shook her head. “That’s the problem with these so-serious species. They become attached to the things they love and never understand that if you lose one love object, you must simply find another.”
Rhinann tilted his head to one side. “Odd. I’d always thought of Zeltrons as beings of immense passion. Yet at the core, you’re quite bloodless, aren’t you?”
She didn’t seem insulted. “Not at all. But our passions are usually very immediate, and—” She sliced the last of the vegetation into the bowl and set down the knife, brushing her palms together to dust them free of residue. “—they are many.”
“Yet you seemed quite attached to your deceased partner. Or at least Jax imagines you were.”
The red eyes went out of focus for a moment and seemed to be staring at some point in space or time that Rhinann couldn’t see. “I was. Ves was a creator. He breathed out great pieces of art the way other beings breathe out c
arbon dioxide. It was exhilarating to be around him, to watch him work, play, whatever you want to call it. It’s also exhilarating to be around these Force slingers … when they’re not hiding out. I wish I could have been here while Jax was working with Kaj early this morning.” She shrugged. “But the Whiplash mission was pretty exciting, too …”
“You’re a thrill addict. Is that why you changed your mind about the Emperor’s assassination? Hungry to be in on a harrowing plot?”
“Now, that was insensitive.” Tuden Sal entered the room before Dejah could fire off a response that matched the look of annoyance on her lovely face. A pity, the Elomin thought. He enjoyed nettling her.
“I am simply grateful,” Sal continued, “that Dejah Duare has agreed to support my proposal.”
“Much good it will do you,” Rhinann said. “I suspect that, when Jax Pavan returns and finds you here, he will feel ambushed.”
Before he could continue, Dejah’s chin tilted up and a smile curved her lips. “He’s here,” she said and hurried to the living room.
Tuden Sal and Rhinann followed. “This should be interesting,” the Elomin said casually, but the emotions roiling in his breast were far from casual.
You can get out, he reminded himself before he started to hyperventilate. You can get out anytime you want.
As he entered the room, he saw to his surprise that Den was there as well.
Jax was both surprised and puzzled to find Tuden Sal and the others waiting for him when he walked in the door of the studio. He read the room quickly, noting that Rhinann and Den were arrayed at the rear of the group—separate from it in a way that it did not require a Jedi to interpret. The group had bisected along lines of conviction: I-Five’s point of view he knew, and Sal’s. Dejah …
He read her most carefully—the bright inquisitive eyes, the shimmer of agitation, the way her gaze darted from him to Sal. He saw the subtle threads now, too, as they reached out toward him. She was not simply exuding pheromones, she was willing them to affect him. How had he been so blind to them before?
“Where’s Kaj?” he asked I-Five.
“Dejah cooked him a meal. I expect that will occupy him for a while.”
There was no sense in prolonging this. Jax turned his attention to Tuden Sal. “A wise man asked me a question not long ago. He asked me if I countenanced the same sort of tactics that Palpatine and Vader would use, how I would distinguish myself from them. I didn’t have an answer to that question. And, in the absence of that answer, I can’t give my active approval of this … mission.”
There was a flurry of startled words, and Jax found himself assailed anew by the strength of their emotional reactions. Rhinann and Den were literally gaping at him, while Dejah took a step backward, visibly stunned and bewildered.
Jax started for the entry to the gallery. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to call Pol Haus.”
On his way to his room, he glanced down to the studio floor where Kaj was in the midst of what seemed a very fine meal, indeed. The aroma alone made Jax’s stomach growl, reminding him how long it had been since he’d eaten. The boy paused long enough to smile up at him, a look of contentment on his face.
I’m glad someone’s happy, Jax thought.
He went into his bedchamber, intending to close the door behind him, but Dejah took up a spot in the doorway before he could.
“You’re making a mistake,” she told him. “This plot of Sal’s is the best way of restoring the Republic and putting an end to Palpatine’s cruelty.”
“I-Five is an independent being, Dejah. He can make this decision on his own.”
“He refuses to. For all that he swears he’s owned by no man, he certainly seems to be owned by you.”
“That’s not fair to either me or I-Five.”
“So you’re just going to go along, like always, solving cases for Pol Haus and pecking at the Empire’s armored flank until you exhaust yourself?”
He met her gaze, feeling a warm rush of heat as he did. She was fully armed, he realized, and probably always had been where he was concerned. Why? Was it so important to her that she have a fleeting physical relationship with a Jedi that she’d intentionally numb him to what was going on around him?
“Is that what I’m doing, Dejah?” he asked. “Is that what we are—me, Laranth, Thi Xon Yimmon, the entire Whiplash? Just annoying little gnats buzzing around a juggernaut we can never hope to bring down?”
She advanced into the room, fists clenched, fire sparking in her eyes. “I’m no military strategist, Jax, but even I know that if you want to take down a superior force—be it a beast or an army—you take off its head. No other strategy makes the least bit of sense when you have such meager resources.”
He smiled wryly. “You’ve been talking to Sal.”
“Yes. And I think what he says makes a lot of sense.”
Jax nodded. It did make a lot of sense. In fact, Sal was right. That was the textbook strategy under the circumstances. “Did you bring him here?” he asked mildly.
“He brought himself here. I simply let him in.”
He gestured at the HoloNet node in the corner of his room. “I need to talk—”
“To Pol Haus? So you said. What are you going to do, give Kaj up to him?”
“No. Thi Xon Yimmon believes Haus is trustworthy. I want to give him a chance to lay out his ideas.”
“You’re going to betray that boy.”
Jax felt a stab of unease. “I would never do that. I hope you won’t suggest to him that I would.”
She seemed crestfallen and contrite. “I’m sorry. That was a stupid, indefensible thing for me to say. I’m … I’m just not used to feeling like this.”
She might have said more, but I-Five announced his presence with that peculiar throat-clearing sound he’d cultivated. With a last glance at Jax, Dejah excused herself and slipped out of the room past the droid, who watched her leave with an expression that somehow managed to be speculative.
I’m not used to feeling like this. Jax suspected that meant the Zeltron was simply not used to being told no. She was used to getting her own way. He realized he was disappointed on two counts—disappointed in Dejah for directing her wiles at him and at himself for not realizing it.
Jax stowed his thoughts and looked at I-Five. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I-Five. I just can’t—”
“You don’t need to apologize to me, Jax. You don’t owe me—”
“I owe you my life several times over.”
“But you don’t owe me the sacrifice of your principles. You are a Jedi Knight. If you feel giving your approval of Sal’s plan is too close a brush with the dark side, then I would never ask you to make yourself part of it. I was merely going to observe that, whatever stand you take, I believe your father would be proud of you.”
Jax sat down heavily on the bed, suddenly feeling physically weary. And no wonder—he’d slept little in the last several days, barely remembered to eat, had played hide-and-seek with Inquisitors, done training sessions with Kaj, and gone for a walkabout with Laranth. Add to that all the emotional turmoil …
He sighed. “My father. Just once, I-Five, I wish I could ask my father for advice.”
I-Five’s reaction to the words was sudden and unexpected. He jerked upright, his optics going intensely bright, and said in a mechanical monotone, “Message Mode Ninety-nine. Recipient: Jax Pavan. Sender: Lorn Pavan.”
A tiny projection port on his chest plate activated, shooting out a beam of multicolored light that resolved into a full-sized hologram.
Jax found himself looking into his father’s face.
It was a face he knew and yet didn’t. He saw something of it when he looked at his own reflection, but the cheekbones were a little broader, the chin maybe a bit stronger. Lorn Pavan’s hair was thick and dark, like his son’s—or rather, Jax’s was like his father’s. His eyes were a clear, dark brown.
“Jax,” said this ghost from the past. A pause, then, “Son.” The d
ark eyes sparkled with incipient tears. “Wow. I’m going to hope that you and I are sitting and watching this message together and having a good laugh, but I’m going to bet that we’re not. For whatever reason.”
He hesitated, rubbed the palms of his hands on his pants, glanced up. “Blast it, I-Five. This is harder than I thought.”
There was a momentary pause as Lorn gathered his thoughts before he looked up again. He was gazing into I-Five’s photoreceptors—Jax knew that intellectually, of course—but it seemed as if he were looking right at Jax.
“Okay, look. The thing is, I’m about to go after this guy—this Sith—and I wanted to—to leave you a message. Just in case … By the time you get this I’ll probably be up to my armpits in trouble—so what else is new?—and I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it to the Temple to see you.”
His gaze became suddenly imploring, almost desperate. “Look, Jax, I wish I could reassure you that I’ll come out of this alive. The truth is I’ll be lucky to come out of it in one piece, given this Sith’s predilection for taking heads.”
He took a deep breath, fidgeted, and wiped his palms again. “So you’re wondering why your old man has to go off and play hero. Why he has to try to take out an enemy that’s been pretty close to unkillable up till now. Well, it’s like this. I don’t want to be a hero. In fact, I don’t think there’s any way I could qualify as one no matter what I did. But someone I knew was the real article, and I kinda feel obligated to carry on where she left off. Her name was Darsha Assant, and she was a Jedi. She was also the bravest soul I’ve ever known.”
Amazed, awed, Jax slid forward on the bed until he was on his knees before the hologram, seeing his father from the perspective of the small child Lorn Pavan believed he was talking to.
The hologram licked his lips, the tears in his eyes close to falling. When he spoke again his voice was rough with emotion. “I know that, given what you’ve probably heard about me, it’s hard to believe I could feel that way about a Jedi. Well, the Jedi be damned—I’m doing this for a friend, for Darsha. And because I want you to be proud of me.”
Star Wars: Coruscant Nights III: Patterns of Force Page 18
