Star Wars_ Coruscant Nights 01_ Jedi Twilight - Michael Reaves [24]
Still, he reflected as he hurried along, since humans were ubiquitous throughout the galaxy, the most plentiful of any of the sentient species by far, there was no point in opposing them—especially since they so often wound up in charge. Like now. After all, there was no question but that he was better off here, doing this, than just about anyplace else, doing anything else. Even if one swept aside the trappings and accoutrements, the salary, and the luxury conapt, Rhinann would still have taken the position for one reason: it let him delve into the mysteries of the Force.
The Force fascinated him. Having no aptitude for or sensibility of it himself, he felt at times like a blind being listening to someone describe the wonder of vision. On the surface, the Force would seem to be the ultimate instrument of chaos, especially when used in the service of the dark side. But if one peered closer, there was a serenity beneath the roiling surface, an underlying order, just as storm-tossed waves can hide placid deeps. Certainly the Jedi seemed to have been granted a certain peace, as well as considerable fearlessness. He hadn’t heard of a single one so far who had not died nobly. There were times—such as now, when he was so upset by the prospect of this meeting that even his fourth stomach was knotted—when Rhinann envied the Jedi for their ability to use the Force as a balm.
But this was not the time for fur gathering. He had to be in control of both mind and body. Indecision and hesitation would not be looked upon favorably.
All too soon he found himself standing before the door.
He was hyperventilating, Rhinann realized. Breathing so hard his nose tusks were vibrating. With a great effort, he managed to calm himself enough to at least evidence a spurious composure.
He entered. The antechamber was not large enough, in his opinion—but then not even the Grand Meeting Hall would allow enough distance between Rhinann and his superior in the meeting about to take place. He distracted himself momentarily by admiring the design: the ceiling was vaulted, and the lines of the fluted walls flowed in a soothing pattern up to it, drawing the eye. It was by no means overfurnished; a few chairs, a small couch, and a low table were all he saw. The colors were subdued, the lighting soft and with no visible source. All in all it would be a pleasant and relaxing room—were it not for the being entering through the far door. The being who had rescued him from a life of slavery. The being who had given him a titled position, and seen that he was paid quite handsomely for it. The being to whom he owed everything.
The being Haninum Tyk Rhinann feared more than anyone else in the galaxy.
“Do sit down, Rhinann,” Darth Vader said.
Den said, “I think it’s time we faced reality, I-Five.”
“Any reality in particular? The number of possible parallel worlds is literally astronomical.”
Den considered whacking the droid a good one, but since he had nothing to hit him with save his bare hands, he resisted. No point in just getting a sore palm, and he knew from experience that that would be the case. Even though I-Five was a discontinued model, his durasteel chassis was still quite sturdy.
The droid and the Sullustan were walking down an avenue known locally as Slan Street, heading back to the literal hole in the wall they shared. Just thinking about the place, with its leaky refresher and the spider-roaches big enough to kick him out of bed, made Den all the more determined to persuade I-Five to dust this overbuilt and overpriced dirtball.
Fortunately, Slan Street was reasonably well lit and marginally safer