Star Wars_ Coruscant Nights 01_ Jedi Twilight - Michael Reaves [19]
Kaird had violet eyes. They were capable of excellent vision; after all, his avian ancestors had evolved on the high, snow-dusted peaks of Nedij, an outlying world on the eastern spinward rim. They had occupied themselves, among other things, with hunting humanoid creatures not unlike the Falleen. His kind no longer possessed the power of flight, and, while he was still stronger and faster than most other beings, he knew that the prince’s physical condition, coupled with his prowess in the martial arts, could spell out Kaird’s doom in large, easy-to-read letters. He had no intention of letting that happen—not when he was so close to his own goal.
He wondered what Xizor, Underlord Perhi, and most of the others would say if they knew what Kaird’s true agenda was. It wasn’t power for its own sake; it wasn’t the thrill of having the ear of the Underlord, or even of being the Underlord himself—it was nothing like that.
Kaird just wanted to go home.
Back to Nedij. Back to the high, sunlit crags and promontories of his world. Back to his Flock; they would likely accept him now, as the transgression he had been banished for was long past. And if they didn’t, he was still going, even if he had to nest in solitude. Alone on Nedij was better than here on Coruscant in the company of scoundrels.
Here on Coruscant wasn’t quite accurate, because they weren’t on the planet itself. Black Sun had sanctuaries established across the galaxy, and this particular one was in a skyhook, a space station in geosynchronous orbit, tethered to the planet by a 37,730-kilometer-long duracable shaft. To the few Coruscanti wealthy or important enough to be in orbit in the first place, Sinharan T’sau was merely another private resort; in this case, a domed oasis of sculptured tachylyte and obsidian rocks and crags, dotted here and there with orange gorse, purple cycads, and other exotic growths. Beneath the glossy black surface, however, was the sanctuary known as Midnight Hall. Much of Black Sun’s business was dealt with in these dark, labyrinthine chambers and corridors. And it was here that Kaird had spent much of the past year.
He hated it. If they had designed a specific hell with him in mind, they couldn’t have done a better job. True, it was brightly lit, and well ventilated, but even so, Kaird could feel the mass of all that heavy stone pressing down on him, threatening to snap his hollow bones and crush him to paste. He knew this could not happen, but knowledge and phobia had little to do with the other.
His plan called for another two years, three at most. First he would consolidate his position as Vigo, then use that power to surreptitiously discover all the scabrous little secrets, unmarked graves and the like that he could. Because it was only by hanging a big enough sword over the heads of his peers—and perhaps even his sole superior—that he would be allowed to retire with his own head still on his shoulders.
For most, Black Sun was a lifetime commitment—once you were in, you were in for life, and that life could be cut very short if you tried to leave. Oh, you might make it out, might even think you were safe, that you had pulled it off, done what so many before you had not been able to do. You might even find a nice planet somewhere, far from the major space lanes, a place where an outlander with sufficient credits would be welcomed with open arms and no questions. But sooner or later there would come a knock on your door, and you would have just enough time to regret opening it before you were blasted into oblivion.
Kaird knew this. He knew it because he’d stood on the other side of that door, his blaster aimed and ready, many times. It wouldn’t play out that way for him.
He’d almost