Star Wars_ Coruscant Nights 01_ Jedi Twilight - Michael Reaves [42]
“Putrid slime,” the Yevetha hissed. He went on to associate Nick with several other unsavory items, the least offensive being the outcome of an improbable romantic liaison between a Hutt and a Wookiee.
“Generally not a good idea to cuss out the guy who’s holding the blaster,” Nick told him. But before he could add anything else, he felt the unmistakable sensation of a slugthrower’s barrel pressed into his back. A voice from behind him said, “And it’s always a good idea to keep your back against the wall in a dive like this.”
Nick thought the voice sounded human. It was the last thought he had for some time.
fifteen
“That was a stirring speech you made back there,” I-Five said to Den. They had just entered a cube, rented for the night, and paid for by the credits obtained from Den hocking his thumbcam. The room was a tiny bubble, two meters on a side, in a dingy ferrocrete resicube. It was designed to accommodate one humanoid lifeform; there was a refresher alcove with a water shower, a kitchen nook with a food keeper/cooker unit, a chair/table extrusion, and a bed extrusion. That was it. The single fluorescent ceiling fixture cast a faint greenish pall over everything, and anytime both of them were still they could hear spider-roaches scurrying in the vents. There were no windows; the cube was honeycombed with cells, and the walls around this one were at least fifteen meters thick. If the air circulator failed, Den realized, he would in all probability suffocate before being able to reach the turbolift at the other end of the building, given that the corridor would be filled with dozens of other panicked beings, all trying desperately to crowd into the same lift, and none, most likely, willing to let him go first.
At this point Den would almost welcome such a scenario. He was struggling to free the bed extrusion, which had jammed partway out of the wall. The aperture wasn’t quite big enough for him to slip through, and even if he could, he’d barely have room to lie flat. Den wasn’t claustrophobic—Sullustans, being cave dwellers, rarely were—but even he had to admit that the prospect of spending more than one night in this pit was depressing in the extreme. Still, he was tired, and this had been the only place they could afford.
He yawned, then realized belatedly that I-Five had spoken. “What?” he grunted, still wrestling with the jammed bed.
“I said, quite a stirring speech. But just how, exactly, are you going to find Jax?”
Den sat down on the partly protruding lip, ceding victory, for the moment, to the faulty mechanism. “Hey, Five—I’m a reporter.” He grimaced. “Was, anyway. I can track a digimorph through a datastorm. He can’t hide from my ears.”
“No one can hide from your ears. I’m surprised the clerk downstairs didn’t count them as separate tenants.”
Den clutched his chest in feigned hurt. “You wound me.” Then he jumped up and turned around suddenly, as if attempting to take the extrusion by surprise. Instead of grabbing the bunk itself, however, he seized the foamcast mattress and yanked it from within. “Hah!” He placed it on the floor, covering a goodly portion of the dingy surface. “Good thing you don’t sleep,” he added to I-Five.
“Oh, yes. Lucky me, I get to experience every microsecond of our stay here. I’ll make sure to record it for posterity. Maybe I’ll even—”
The droid stopped. Den was staring at him, his expression thoughtful. “Posterity,” the Sullustan mused.
I-Five said nothing. He merely watched, his photoreceptors bright with what Den had come to recognize as interest—and hope.
“You’ve got images on file in your memory banks of Lorn Pavan, right?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s see ’em.”
The droid projected a series of holograms in midair between them. Den watched the images cycle past: various angles of I-Five’s erstwhile partner and friend. He seemed a good-looking