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“Apparently Jax had a run-in with one of the local mobsters a couple of days ago. A Hutt named Rokko.”

“I’ve heard of him. So that was the scene on the mezzanine skywalk.”

“Exactly. And now I know the location of Rokko’s residence.”

“And you’re just gonna walk up to him and ask him about our boy.” The little Sullustan was beginning to puff—his short legs couldn’t begin to match the long strides I-Five was taking.

“Something like that,” the droid replied.

Den lunged forward and managed to grab I-Five’s arm, slowing the droid. “If you think it’s going to be as easy as that,” he said, “then I’ve got an asteroid field over in the Reach I’d like to sell you.” He held on, and I-Five came to a reluctant halt.

“All right,” he said. “Give me an alternative.”

Den knew he wouldn’t have the droid’s attention for long. He spoke quickly. “We can’t just barge in like a couple of spiced-up stormtroopers and start making demands. We need some kind of cover—a story they’ll buy.”

“And you have one.”

“I will, in another minute.” Den thought furiously. “We need something to tempt him with, something he’ll want to see …” He grinned. “You.”

The droid blinked, a quick on–off flash of his photoreceptors. “Me?”

“More precisely, your skill at sabacc. Rokko loves gambling, from what I’ve heard. He’ll be fascinated by a card-playing droid.”

I-Five projected skepticism. “Any protocol droid can be programmed to—”

“To play cards, sure. But you can’t program an aptitude for it. Not like you have.”

“Assuming you’re right—”

“Trust me on this,” Den said. “I’m right. Back on Drongar you threw down arrays with Tolk, Barriss, and Klo—a skinreader, a Jedi, and a minder, not to mention me, who has some skill in the game—and you managed to put away enough creds to get us to Coruscant and keep us alive all this time. That takes more than just a good calculator chip. Besides, it’s like the line about a Noghri reciting poetry—what’s amazing is not that he does it well, but that he does it at all.”

“Very well,” said the droid. “What’s the scam?”

“Simple. I’m selling you to Rokko.”

The Elomin wasn’t a talkative type. Nick had never encountered a representative of this particular species before. Haninum Tyk Rhinann was tall and gangly, and his stride was difficult to keep up with. Every time he exhaled, his nose tusks stridulated. It was annoying in the extreme. Nick had heard it said that they were fearsome creatures to some, with their horned heads and tusked noses, but personally he thought Rhinann looked somewhat silly—like an AT-ST walker dressed up in ostentatious frippery, stalking down the corridor of the Palace.

As if he were reading Nick’s thoughts—Are Elomin telepathic? he wondered in a moment of panic—Rhinann looked back at him with a glare. “Keep up, human. Lord Vader doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Good point. Even though Nick wasn’t exactly looking forward to meeting the Dark Lord, being on time would be better than being late.

“But why does he want to see me?” he asked. “I’m not that important—I’m just a guerrilla. I—”

“Last night you aided a Jedi. You helped him escape from a detail sent for him by the local authorities.”

Nick stared. “How did you know—” but he realized the answer before he finished the question. “The hall recorders.” Many hotels and other such establishments in places like the Slums kept audio-video recorders mounted in the corridors, and probably in a lot of the rooms as well. A recorder had no doubt captured the last minutes of the fight at the Coruscant Arms. And it would have been a simple matter to cross-match his ID holo with that of former brevet major Nick Rostu.

“Yes. Lord Vader has examined the images and identified the Jedi as Jax Pavan. Not long after that, our rovercams picked you up in Tangor Square. We sent the Weequay and his companion to take you. They were smugglers and bounty hunters. The rest you know.”

“Were smugglers and bounty hunters?”

“Exactly. Now they are unprocessed waste, the Empire has acquired a new freighter at no cost, and no laws have