Vader didn’t waste time. “The droid will wear a restraining bolt.”
Jax feigned reluctance. “Why? What can you possibly fear from—?”
“I fear nothing. The droid will wear a restraining bolt. He, like your young adept—or should I say your Padawan?—is both unknown and unexpected.”
Jax projected barely restrained anger and bowed his head. “Agreed.” There wasn’t a restraining bolt made that could control I-Five, but Vader couldn’t know that. “Where is Kaj?”
“I’m sure you understand that we had to handle him differently. He is safe and well cared for. I am somewhat reluctant to give him up.”
Jax said nothing. He folded his arms and waited.
“This will be only a temporary truce, Pavan. Once I have what I want from the droid, our game will recommence. You’d do well to simply surrender to me now.”
“Sorry, Vader. I’m not part of the deal. I’m willing to sacrifice the droid, not myself.”
Vader cocked his helmet slightly, the movement conveying a sense of amusement. “An odd attitude for a Jedi.”
“Ultimately, he’s just a mechanical device.”
Vader’s laughter seemed to roll directly from his chest plate. “You believe that no more than I do.” He made a broad gesture of dismissal. “Enough of this. Let us conclude our arrangements.”
Jax barely heard him; his gaze had been drawn again to Laranth. She had squeezed herself into a corner and turned her head away from him, pressing her face into the wall of her cell.
Vader noticed his concern. “Such devotion. Does she distract you? That is easily remedied.” He made a subtle gesture with his hand, and the cell and its pathetic inmate dissolved into darkness.
“Is that better?” Vader asked, his voice mockingly sympathetic.
It wasn’t better. Seeing her like that was horrific, but not seeing her was far worse. With an effort—
There is no emotion …
He drew a cloak of detachment around himself and went on with the negotiations.
“You surely don’t mean to return the boy to them,” Tesla said as soon as the holoprojection of Jax Pavan had disappeared.
Darth Vader turned his helmeted head to look at his acolyte. “Is he here, as I requested?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Bring him.”
Tesla did as required, going to where he had left the young adept studying a holocron of the early Sith Masters, and escorting him into the Dark Lord’s presence. Tesla had explained to the boy who Darth Vader was, of course, and as he expected, the youth was suitably awed in his master’s presence.
Even awed, he dared to speak first. “You’re … you’re the one who rescued me from the Jedi, aren’t you?” he asked.
Vader inclined his head in agreement. “I could not allow such a thing to happen to you, Kajin. We were greatly disturbed by your kidnapping. I have brought you here so that you can see one of the rebels who tried to take you from us.” He turned and, with a wave of his hand, lit the alcove where Laranth Tarak lay in her fetal curl.
The boy glanced from Tesla to Darth Vader—then, with surprising boldness, approached the cell. “This is one of the Jedi?” Then, “Yes … yes, I remember her now. In that tunnel. She was …”
The Twi’lek, hearing the boy’s voice, turned her head to look at him. Her eyes cleared slightly, and her lips formed his name. Kaj stiffened, his back going ramrod-straight. He held his ground, though, Tesla noted, and the woman’s gaze as well. His face screwed into a mask of fury as the boy spit out a single word:
“Jedi.”
Tesla met his lord’s veiled gaze and smiled.
twenty-six
I-Five would be escorted by Dejah Duare, who stood the best chance of keeping Kaj calm, and Rhinann, whose reasons for volunteering were vague at best. He had gone to such great lengths to hide out from the Dark Lord that it was hard to explain to his cohorts why he suddenly was willing to march into harm’s way.
He tried out a number of explanations in his own mind that sounded disingenuous even to him: loyalty to Jax, a secret fondness for I-Five, a desire to flaunt his alliance with a Jedi to a master who had abused his sensibilities tremendously. None sounded believable, and so he’d come up with something a bit closer to the truth.
“Frankly,” he’d told the gathered plotters, “I am hoping to turn this into a strategic ploy. Vader will recognize me, of course, and might be persuaded to think that I am a mole of sorts and thus might be useful to him in finally capturing Jax and shutting down the Whiplash. Besides,” he’d added, wrinkling his nose in disgust, “I wish to acquit myself better than that cowardly Sullustan has done. I refuse to be so spineless as to abandon my companions.”
The little speech seemed to go over well enough with the group, and Rhinann threw himself into the final arrangements for the exchange. He believed that now, finally, the bota must surface, and he would be the last person anyone would expect to snatch it and use it.
The exchange point was to be the control tower of a spacecraft hangar in an abandoned military complex. Tuden Sal had selected the place, which had to have caused Pavan some unease. Sal was yet a newcomer to the Whiplash and, though Yimmon and even Laranth trusted him, the fact of his previous betrayal of Jax’s father must make it hard for the young Jedi to have the same amount of faith in him.
Rhinann thought it ironic that Tuden Sal had not volunteered to be part of the mission, though I-Five still intended to assassinate the Emperor if the opportunity presented itself.
The Elomin was not sanguine about their prospects, but he had made copious mental lists of all the things that could go wrong, and so felt himself well prepared for whatever they might encounter. Nevertheless he was surprised almost immediately upon their arrival at the tower. As he and Dejah led the droid from their airspeeder, they found themselves in the company of a trio of Inquisitors. The adepts flanked them as they approached the lift that rose to the control room.
Rhinann reacted in a most undignified manner, all but hiding behind the droid. Dejah took their appearance somewhat more calmly, expressing only mild annoyance that she and Rhinann hadn’t been warned of the extra precaution on Vader’s part. I-5YQ, disguised as a protocol unit of the 3PO line, said nothing, as befitted a droid wearing a restraining bolt. It had agreed to have its cognitive module wiped down to its basic programming kernel and the data stored within the bogus restraining bolt. At the proper moment, someone—Rhinann didn’t know who, in order to keep Vader from plucking the knowledge from his mind, if it was to be Dejah, or Jax, monitoring from a distance—would reactivate the droid’s higher brain functions so it could complete its mission.
“You will accompany us,” one of the faceless beings said simply, then swung away to lead them into the lift.
“You could have warned me they were there,” Rhinann told Dejah between clenched teeth.
“What makes you think I knew they were there?”
“I seem to recall you commenting that taozin doesn’t impede telempathy. I assume these fellows are emitting some sort of brainwaves. Possibly they even have emotions.”
The Zeltron glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Indeed they have.”
“Cease talking,” said one of the Inquisitors. Rhinann felt their eyes on him as they stepped from the lift and crossed the empty chamber that had once directed Republican spacecraft, and which was now home to dust, grime, and insects.
Rhinann saw Laranth standing within some sort of force field spun between a series of portable emitters. Her wrists were shackled, and there was some sort of winking device attached to her left lekku—an electromagnetic pulse emitter, he guessed, intended to disrupt her brain’s interaction with the mysterious fleshy tendril. She looked angry, he thought. But then, when had she not?
There were three figures standing just beyond her at the window that overlooked the distant hangar floor: the boy Kaj, Darth Vader—and Emperor Palpatine. The Emperor was seated in a hoverchair at the
center of the little group, looking arch and cold. Vader was … well, Vader. He had not changed one bit since the last time Rhinann had seen him. The boy, meanwhile, was dressed in a uniform of Imperial black against which his pale skin and hair were shockingly bright. Oddly, he did not look happy to see them.
It took an enormous effort for Rhinann to stay on his feet—at the sight of Vader all of his old panic had settled on him, to such an extent that the chamber literally grayed out for a few moments. He felt himself swaying, and commanded himself fiercely to get a grip.
He glanced at Dejah. The Zeltron stood on the opposite side of I-Five, her eyes wide with terror, her gaze fixed on Vader and the Emperor, her breathing quick and shallow. He looked at the droid next. What was it waiting for? Why didn’t it fire at Palpatine? Hadn’t the upload been accomplished?
The answer came in a most unexpected way. The Emperor smiled and steepled his fingers, then winked out like a dying star—chair and all. He had been no more than a holographic image.
Rhinann had the absurd desire to laugh.
Darth Vader, a hand on Kaj’s shoulder, surveyed them through his insectoid lenses. Then he moved toward them with languid, menacing grace, his robes whispering softly. “Haninum Tyk Rhinann. I am surprised to see you here. I would not have taken you for either a hero or a fool.”
Rhinann had no reply to that, being too terrified to speak—nor, he knew, would Lord Vader have expected one.
Vader approached them, stopped and surveyed them all for a moment. Kaj stood a few steps behind, his expression neutral. Rhinann wondered at that, but only vaguely—there wasn’t much room in his head for anything except terror at being so close to Vader again.
After an endless moment of silence, Vader addressed himself, not to Rhinann, or to I-Five, but to Dejah. “Which of them has the bota?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said calmly. She turned to look at I-Five. “I tried to discover that, but I-Five is terribly clever about such things. I can’t really rule out the possibility that he still has it.”
Rhinann was surprised at how little surprise he felt at this evidence of Dejah’s betrayal.
“On the other hand,” she said, turning away from the droid and looking at one of the Inquisitors, “he might have given it to the Jedi.”
Rhinann caught a hiss of breath from the Inquisitor.
Dejah approached the scarlet figure, her expression sweetly melancholy. “I’m sorry, Jax,” she said gently. “I really am.”
twenty-seven
Blood thundered in Jax Pavan’s ears—so loudly he barely heard what the Zeltron woman was saying to him.
“Please understand that this isn’t personal, Jax. Or political, for that matter. In fact I’m grateful to you for introducing me to the Force. I’ve never been so near a Force adept before. I had no idea of the sheer sensual power of it. It’s the most intoxicating thing I have ever encountered. I had thought Ves’s creativity was heady, but this—” She drew in a long breath. “—this power you and Kaj and the other Jedi wield … it’s beyond my experience.” She looked demurely through her lashes at him. “Like I said—I’m sorry.”
Jax pulled back the cowl of the Inquisitor’s robe. From the corner of his eye, he caught the echo of the motion from one of two real Inquisitors in the room—Probus Tesla, if the scarring on his head and face were any indication. He stared into Dejah’s eyes.
“No, you’re not,” he said.
She shook her head sadly. “If you’d been willing to meet me halfway, this wouldn’t have been necessary. But you kept withdrawing from me, holding me at bay. You wouldn’t let me in. You wouldn’t let me taste the Force in you.” Her lovely mouth twisted. “All that Jedi circumspection, that moral code, kept you from letting me touch you—kept you from touching me. But—”
“But Probus Tesla, unlike me, is not bridled by moral limitations.”
She smiled, her gaze caressing the keloid ridges on the Inquisitor’s face. “Yes. How did you know?”
“I suspected something was amiss when you stopped importuning me with your pheromones. At first you shifted your desire to Kaj, but when he disappeared, you needed another source. Who better to make an alliance with than the Inquisitor who was hunting me?
“But you had to prove your sincerity. So you gave them Laranth and Kaj. You told them where to find the boy and the Paladin.”
She looked puzzled. “But—I was so careful—”
“I told you about the Force dream I had, in which I smelled spice gas. The scent of your pheromones was there as well.”
She appeared about to reply, when Vader interrupted. “This is all vaguely interesting and amusing, Pavan,” he said. “But it has gone on long enough.” He extended a black-gloved hand. “Give me the bota—now.”
Jax laughed without mirth. “Why? You’re not going to let us go no matter what I do.”
“I will not let you go, but I will let her go.” Vader dipped his head toward Laranth.
“Why would you do that?”
“Because it is easier than the alternative—dissecting you all, piece by piece until I find what I’m looking for. Something you know I’m capable of doing.” He made a careless gesture with one hand and Laranth stiffened, her head thrown back, her eyes wide with sudden pain.
Beneath his robes, Jax triggered the remote that would, in theory, restore I-Five’s higher cognitive functions. The droid, however, gave no indication of any change. Jax felt fear stab his heart. Had he been right? Had I-Five lost some ephemeral part of himself that he could never regain?
“Tell the droid to give me the bota, Pavan.”
“The droid doesn’t have it,” said I-Five suddenly. Both hands came up in a lethal gesture, lasers firing. The beams sliced toward Vader … and stopped mere centimeters from his outstretched hand.
“Interesting,” he said. “I read your intention even as you were forming it. Not as a current in your positronic matrix, but as an emotion. You were protecting what you hold dear. You truly are a remarkable machine.”
“Forgive me for not being gracious enough to thank you for the compliment,” said I-Five.
“Understand me, tin man. If you do not release the bota to me, I will force you to watch as I destroy Jax Pavan and Laranth Tarak. There will be nothing left for you to protect.”
There was a strange psychic reverberation that seemed to come from everywhere at once. In the wake of it, Jax felt Laranth’s mental touch and glanced at her. Vader had released her from the grip in which he’d held her and she was staring at Jax fixedly. When his gaze met hers she made a subtle gesture, her eyes dipping toward the tip of her right lekku, which, lying over her shoulder, nudged the belt at the waist of her tunic.
He understood the message immediately—she had the bota. Laranth was I-Five’s secret accomplice. Which made perfect sense. She was accessible to the team but no longer part of it, and she was, of all Jax’s associates, the most completely trustworthy.
Jax’s mind scrambled for an epiphany. Holding Laranth’s gaze, he gave her the tiniest nod and a little nudge with the Force.
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
Jax opened his mouth to speak when a force like a giant invisible fist struck him and hurled him back against the wall. He was pinned there, spitted, while every nerve ending in his body exploded and burst into flame. A scream was wrenched from his throat before he could stop it.
“Stop it!” Laranth snarled at Vader. “I have the bota!”
Vader let Jax go, and he collapsed to the floor in a heap. He lay against the wall, watching as Vader relieved Laranth of her shackles and dropped the shield. The Twi’lek reached down to a pocket on her belt and removed the skinpopper containing the single dose of bota extract. She held it out to Vader.
He took it and reactivated her cell in one fluid movement. Caught once more in the field, Laranth was slammed to the floor.
Again, Jax felt that peculiar quiver of dread in the Force, but had no time to question it. Vader ha
d moved to stand over him.
“And now, if you would return the pyronium …”
There was no sense in prevaricating. If he pretended not to have it, Vader would simply turn him inside out and take it. He reached into the Inquisitor’s cloak, fielded it from the inner pocket of his vest, and handed it over.
“And lastly, the Sith Holocron.” Again, Vader held out a gloved hand.
Jax shook his head. “I don’t have it.”
“He’s telling the truth,” I-Five interjected quickly. “Jax gave that to another member of our team who is … no longer with us.”
“Oh yes, the Sullustan muckraker. Where is he?”
“On his way to his homeworld by now, I should think.”
The gloved hand clenched into a fist, making Jax steel himself for the continued flaying of his nerves. He was surprised when Vader simply shrugged off the inconvenience, as if the Sith Holocron were of little importance.
Of course, Jax’s epiphany could be pure wishful thinking. His assumption that Vader would need the holocron to tell him how to use the power of the pyronium might be a false one. He thought Vader a man of supreme hubris, but who knew—maybe he was merely confident and would simply know how to use the pyronium once he had an unfettered connection to the Force.
Jax glanced at Dejah. Her face was that of a zealot in the throes of meditative rapture. Rhinann, too, seemed utterly focused on Darth Vader as the Dark Lord looked down at the two items in his hands.
“You can have no conception of what you have given me,” he told Jax. His tone was exultant. “The bota will purify and exponentially increase my connection to the Force, a transformation that will be maintained and strengthened by the energy latent in the pyronium. The Sith Holocron contained instructions written long ago by Darth Ramage, a Sith scientist, which would have been a useful addition to the combination, but not essential. I will simply have to divine what the connection is between these two forces.”
“How did you find out I had them?” Jax asked. He picked himself up off the floor with some care, his nerve endings still feeling the sting of remembered agony.
Star Wars: Coruscant Nights III: Patterns of Force Page 24
