"My investigations indicate the same, if anyone's interested," Haus added drily.
Umber settled himself. "I don't know whether to be offended or relieved by your words, Pavan."
"You are a true aficionado of Volette's art. There are ways of confirming these things. You love his work and you were clearly very fond of him."
"We both were," Umber declared.
Jax sensed the Force threads he had let flow drift back to him. Yes, there was definitely a sense of unease in the room, of rising disquiet. It only served to substantiate what he had come to suspect.
"Yes. But certainly you far more than your mate."
Lifting his gaze, he looked past the noble. "Isn't that right, Baroness Umber?"
She looked straight at him. Unfamiliar as he was with her kind, he could not read her expressions properly. But there was no mistaking the anger that flowed through the Force.
"I would not deny it."
"Our droid"—and Jax indicated the watching I-Five—"succeeded in gaining access to your banking records." He glanced at Haus. The Zabrak said nothing, but he was watching Jax very closely.
"Really, Pavan! This is too much!" This time Umber was unable to keep his outrage under control.
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Jax met his irate gaze without flinching. "Over the past three standard years you spent a considerable sum on the works of Ves Volette. So much, in fact, that your credit rating and ability to spend and bor-row became impaired."
Umber could only sputter indignation. "I had it under control. At all times. Aside from the affront to my privacy, I fail to see how this has any bearing whatsoever on the identity of Volette's slayer." He turned toward Haus. "Prefect, surely this is a contra-vention of some investigative procedure."
Haus shook his horned head slowly. "Let's see where he's going with it."
"Someone else was worried about your finances as well, Baron," Jax continued. "Someone who apparently felt otherwise about how well you had them under control. Someone who was not quite as overcome by the Caamasi's creations as you were." Again Jax shifted his attention to the Baron's mate.
There was no question now about the uneasiness and anger that were flowing through the Force. He pressed on.
"You were the one Dejah's neighborhood acquaintance saw near Volette's studio that night, Kirma Umber. The witness said the individual she saw was larger than most Vindalians. I still don't know much about your species, but I know that the female is always larger than the male.
"You followed your mate because you feared he was about to purchase yet another of Volette's works, thereby further damaging your fiscal standing. After the Baron left, you confronted Volette and threatened him. Probably ordered him not to sell to the Baron 272 Star Wars: Coruscant Nights II: Street of Shadows any longer, or at least until you could get the family finances restabilized."
She was staring at him. "Many humans have vivid imaginations. I have to say that yours, Pavan, is far more florid than most." Her tone was calm, but what he sensed from her was quite different.
"Independent voice and artist that he was, Volette refused. You attacked him. Maybe not with the intent of killing him, but with enough force to stab him.
Then you fled."
Baron Umber was staring at his mate. It was plain that he wanted to say something but could not find the words. Kirma looked at him, then back at Jax.
"You know something. I don't know how, but—yes. I followed my mate, and I confronted Ves. I did ask him to stop selling his work to us. But it had nothing to do with finances. When the Baron says that he has them under control, I know that to be true. He loves Volette's work, but he would never risk the family's financial stability in pursuit of anyone's art. Such a thing would be positively un-Vindalian."
"Then why?"
"You should know." Taking a step forward, the Vindalian female raised an arm and pointed. "It was because of her."
Unbidden, the attention of everyone in the room shifted immediately to the startled Zeltron. Dejah gaped at the Vindalian, looked at the Baron, turned back to the Jedi. "Jax, I—I don't know what she's talking about."
Umber spoke up without having to be prompted.
"There was ... an attraction between us, I admit." He turned to his mate. "But that was all. Nothing Michael Reaves 273
happened. Kirma, I had no control over my reactions when I was in Volette's dwelling and she was present." He gestured helplessly. "She's a Zeltron."
"Better you had stayed clear of her presence," his mate murmured.
"How could I do that?" he protested. "She was always there. When I was choosing a sculpture, she was there. When Ves and I were discussing payment, she was there. When negotiations were concluded or art was discussed, she was there. She was his partner."
Kirma Umber looked past her mate. Her emotions were now very different from those Jax had perceived earlier. "And she is a Zeltron. That explains, but does not excuse."
" Nothing happened," Umber reiterated, with as much force as he could muster without shouting. His earnestness spread through the Force, and Jax believed him.
His mate met his gaze, held it, and finally turned to the Jedi. "I confronted Ves Volette. I left in a fury, but I left him alive." She turned back to Jax. "You must believe me! I didn't kill him."
A voice not yet heard from finally made itself known. It was calm, controlled, methodical. It was also from the last entity the Umbers and Haus were expecting to hear from.
"I did."
274 Star Wars: Coruscant Nights II: Street of Shadows twenty-six
Typho's hands did not tremble as he entered the electronic address. There was silence after he finished, save for the faint susurrus of static. He imagined an aide speaking deferentially to the Emperor's second in command: Lord Vader, the communication you requested be brought immediately to your notice is retained for your attention on channel six. Or words to that effect. Typho wondered what sort of humor his attempt to contact Vader had left the Dark Lord in. His mind's eye saw Vader alone in a dark chamber, surrounded by humming, flashing technology, no doubt far more comfortable in such environs than in the presence of servile organics. His aides were in all likelihood unable to keep from engaging in the most obvious sort of fawning and scraping in the hope of incurring some small smidgen of their master's favor.
Annoying as such types were, they were sometimes necessary; Vader couldn't do everything by himself, couldn't be everywhere at once, and seeing to the organization and consolidation of the Empire no doubt demanded every moment of his conscious hours.
Except for this one interruption. For something like this he would make time.
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The holoproj flickered and took shape. Typho watched as the three-dimensional image of the Dark Lord swiveled around in a massive blue-black control chair and thoughtfully regarded him.
From Vader's point of view Typho was merely a human male, with his face masked. Though he felt nothing, he knew that the Dark Lord was reaching out with the Force, trying to divine the entity behind the disguise. He could imagine Vader's frustration as the latter found his attempt mysteriously blocked. He was betting everything on the taozin's skin node working now.
If Vader was being stymied in his attempts to read him, the Dark Lord gave no sign of it. "You know who I am," he said. "Who are you, who begs my attention?"
"My name is for my family," Typho replied. "I have something you want."
Vader nodded, the heavy helmet bobbing slightly.
"So you claim. Whether you speak the truth remains to be seen."
"Then see, and believe."
The projection wavered slightly as a smaller image was superimposed within the first. It showed the end of some meeting that had just broken up, clearly recorded from a cloaked pickup. The assembly and its purpose would not concern the Dark Lord. What would catch his attention, Typho knew, was the figure of a young man coming toward the pickup's view-point. Automatically adjusting for distance,
the device kept the human in focus and proper dimensions. There was no question of the identity. The image's voice — with that of the pickup's owner care-
276 Star Wars: Coruscant Nights II: Street of Shadows fully and professionally deleted—provided what further confirmation was needed.
"Ah." Satisfied, Vader relaxed in his command chair. "The traitorous Jedi Jax Pavan."
"You want him. I can give him to you."
"And in return?" Vader sounded impatient. Whole worlds waited, no doubt, on his decisions.
"Nothing much. Five million Imperial credits."
"You are bold," Vader said, a note of amusement in his deep voice. "Resourceful as well, in your attempt to hide your mind from the Force. I find myself . . .
intrigued.
"The credits will be transferred, according to whatever directives you provide. I will authorize payment to take place the instant the renegade Jedi is in my hands."
Vader didn't stoop to haggling, Typho noted with relief. Still, the game had to be played out to avoid arousing the Sith's suspicions. "How do I know I can trust you, Lord Vader?"
Vader seemed not in the least affronted. "You do not, and no guarantees I might make would reassure you. But money means nothing to me. I only want Pavan."
"Then you shall have him. Tonight, at first darkness. There is a condemned transport hangar in Sector Four-Gee-Two. Come alone to the sixth floor. A dozen stormtroopers or so might make me nervous and put a premature end to our transaction."
"I need no escort. I'll be there. And remember: I want him alive."
"No worries," Typho said. "I've gained his trust, and when his guard is down, I'll spike his drink with Michael Reaves 277
a double dose of dreamdust. By the time we three rendezvous tonight, he'll be so happily deranged you could tell him you were his long-lost Jedi Master and he'd believe it."
"A good plan." Without another word, Vader severed the link. The image imploded and vanished.
So, then—the meeting was set. Darth Vader, the conscienceless murderer whom he had come to Coruscant to confront, would be there in person at the designated location.
"It won't be long now, Padmé," he murmured.
"I did," the mild voice said. All eyes turned to the voice's source—the Umber family protocol droid.
The Baron and Baroness stared in shock at the domestic mechanical, who looked calmly back.
"Yes, you did," Jax said. Through the Force he read surprise and curiosity from Haus. He looked at the stunned Vindalians. "I'm sorry, Baroness, to have accused you unfairly. It was the only way to induce your droid to confess."
"But how? Why?" Umber asked.
"Your droid has been in the service of the same family for a very long time," Jax said. "Much of the time we organics don't even notice droids. We've developed the ability to ignore their presence even in intimate situations." He smiled slightly. "I speak from experience. We know they're there, but we don't acknowledge them unless and until we need them. Yet that doesn't mean they're devoid of self-motivation."
He glanced at I-Five. "Take I-Five, for example."
"But he's an exception," Den pointed out. "Your 278 Star Wars: Coruscant Nights II: Street of Shadows social and interactive programming and related circuitry were illegally modified," he added to the droid.
I-Five looked down at his friend. "So naturally, you would assume that I'm the only one who can be or has been so modified?"
Across the room, Kirma Umber was moving slowly away from her droid. Away from the machine that had been in the service of the family Umber for longer than she could remember.
"It's not possible," she said. "There was no reason ..."
"I saw your distress." The silver protocol droid spoke calmly. "I perceived it silently for years, while the Baron paid his frequent visits to the artist Volette, and his partner, the Zeltron Dejah Duare. I stood in silence, not commenting, while you shouted aloud your fears and worries in the privacy of your chamber.
"The last night you went to see Volette, I followed.
Security is, after all, part of my programming. I saw no need to concern you with my presence. I observed your argument with the artist. I registered your body language, the raw emotion of your tone, the heightened conductivity of your galvanic skin response. I determined then the way to best fulfill my programming and my obligation to the family Umber.
"I confronted the Caamasi and attempted to carry out this programming with words. I was ignored, of course.
"I decided at that moment that further action was required on behalf of my owner. I therefore stabbed Ves Volette in the anterior plex with this." The droid Michael Reaves 279
held up its right fist and one of the digits shot up, transforming into a short, lethal-looking spike.
Kirma Umber gasped.
"Your data retrieval spike," Jax murmured. "You had more than enough strength to penetrate the protective cartilage."
"True. As there were no direct witnesses, once the Baron was cleared of involvement, I thought the matter, deplorable as it was, might fade away." His gaze was focused across the room, on Jax and I-Five. "I feel something that organics would term curiosity—a desire for heuristic extrapolation. How did you come to suspect me?"
I-Five answered. "While Jax and Den were questioning Spa Fon—" Haus coughed discreetly, to which Den offered a sickly smile. "—I was engaged in a cy-berspatial data search." He looked at Jax. "If you will recall, I was still in the same mode when you returned. I was studying the details of the murder. In the course of my investigation I made good use of access to certain records of the sector police."
Den gawked at his companion, then looked at Haus. "And you thought what I did was illegal."
"When I was at the crime scene," Jax continued, "I noticed that many of the forensics droids were DN-Seven-Two-Fours, which I-Five's
research indicated
are quite similar to your design." He looked at the protocol droid, which stared calmly back. "They had a tendency to shuffle across the plush carpeting, leaving distinctive tracks—the same sort of tracks you leave in this carpet. That was what first aroused my suspicions. Further investigation by I-Five revealed that your model had a data spike perfectly suited for 280 Star Wars: Coruscant Nights II: Street of Shadows inflicting the wound that killed Volette." He didn't mention the biggest clue of all, which was, ironically, the lack of a clue. His inability to sense the guilty party, put together with his negative readings of the Umbers, pointed straight at their droid. Mechanicals were notoriously hard to read through the Force. He couldn't tell Haus this, of course.
The Baron started to speak. "If it was our droid, then a reprogramming should suffice to—"
The droid, astoundingly, cut his owner off. "Such an action would bring shame to the family. I am prepared to execute the appropriate resolution. It is only rational." The gleaming lenses dimmed visibly. A few flickers of light sparked from the base of the droid's skull. As the smell of ozone began to contaminate the room and the last of the sparks flared out, I-Five walked between the organics, stopping when he was within arm's reach of the motionless silver mechanical. As the others looked on, he extended his left hand. From the next to last digit a small probe tele-scoped, which I-Five inserted into a receptacle in the side of the other droid. A moment later it withdrew and retracted back into his finger. I-Five turned to the watching organics.
"Wiped. The neural net was fried. Not restorable by any specialist, no matter how talented." He tapped the side of the protocol droid. "Probably worth something as scrap."
Jax, who was watching Dejah, saw a single tear roll down her cheek.
"Well, that's just great," Pol Haus said. "What am I supposed to tell the upper crust, who've been clam-oring for some closure regarding their favorite artist?
Michael Reaves 281
That a droid killed him? Oh yeah, that'll go down well."
"If I might make a suggestion," Dejah said, "surely there is no dearth of criminals on the street
s who have gone free for want of evidence. I would think that this crime could be adjusted to fit one of them." She noticed the others looking at her in surprise, and shrugged. "As Prefect Haus has pointed out, there is no sense of justice to Ves's death as it stands. If some good can come out of it, maybe that will help."
Haus ruminated for a moment, then turned to his droid assistant. "Round up the usual species," he told it. "Maybe we can get something good out of this, after all."
Kirma Umber stared at the permanently frozen mechanical, then met her husband's gaze. The Baron smiled reassuringly at his mate. "We'll get another one. It was only a device, and it was getting old."
"Yes," she murmured. "It was only a device." A tear coursed down her cheek. "But loyal."
282 Star Wars: Coruscant Nights II: Street of Shadows twenty-seven
The jet-black aircar had no driver; only its singular passenger. Typho watched from his concealment. Apparently Vader had acceded to his conditions. Well and good. The armored, automated vehicle arrived on exactly the indicated level and stopped at precisely the specified spot within the condemned transport hangar at one minute past the designated time for the meeting. A stickler for precision, Vader was.
Typho tensed. He knew he had but one shot at this.
He had no illusions about his contemplated action. It had nothing to do with honor, with a fair fight. It was murder, pure and simple. He would have to strike from behind, swiftly and lethally, and from a distance with a blaster. It was murder, and murder for the most ignoble of motives—revenge.
He shrugged away the thought. He had come to terms months before with what he was doing and why. His soul might be irredeemably stained by his action tonight, but Padmé's would find peace. That was all that mattered.
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