Star Wars_ Coruscant Nights 01_ Jedi Twilight - Michael Reaves [88]
Kaird had heard the tales, and had assumed that, for the most part, they were at best 1 percent truth to 99 percent bantha fodder. But as the Stinger’s trajectory brought her lower, and he was able to see the blighted landscape, he began to wonder.
The Factory District looked nothing at all like the underworld of metropolitan Coruscant. Two of the lesser moons were in the sky, bathing the entire scene in a radiance as silvery-cold and glistening as a Hutt’s tears. The scene was one of urban decay and deterioration, stretching endlessly, it seemed, in all directions.
Very few buildings rose more than fifty stories, he estimated, not even qualifying for cloudcutter status. For the most part they spread horizontally, vast and wide. He saw factories, warehouses, landing fields, transport ramps and grids … all of it bleak and crumbling. Skeletal structural frames groped blindly toward the stars. The shattered remnants of huge, transparisteel transit tubes, which had arced and curved over and around buildings like fantastic ice formations, came to jagged ends, or lay in pieces on the ground below. As they drew closer, Kaird could see that some makeshift repairs had been attempted, with varying degrees of success: rope bridges made of cable and metal plating, crude open-air winch-and-tackle lifts, and the like. The streets were dotted with shanties, lean-tos, and other dwellings, constructed of cast-off materials. Kaird wondered what sorts of species were tough enough and/or desperate enough to call the Factory District home.
Xizor set the Stinger down in an open area, relatively clear of debris, near one of the larger buildings. The hum of the repulsorlifts died, and silence followed—a silence so profound that they could very well have been on the airless surface of one of the planet’s satellites. It was 10-4TO who finally broke it.
“This isn’t the location of the Whiplash.” The droid’s voice was unemotional, which was no great surprise, but there was something about its tone that suggested suspicion nonetheless. It leaned forward slightly.
Xizor stood, turned away from the cockpit and moved closer to it. He spoke two words that Kaird had never heard before: “Zu woohama.” It sounded like a language other than Basic, but Kaird had no idea which one.
It made an impression on the droid, however. Ten-Four-Tee-Oh settled back. “What would you have me do?”
“Accompany me,” Xizor said. “I’ll show you where to download your data.”
“Of course.”
Kaird now recalled the significance of the cryptic phrase. According to Perhi, it was a code phrase that gave one control over the droid; Black Sun had learned it through its Palace contacts. It had been given to Xizor as part of his false mission.
Obviously, that had been a mistake.
Before they disembarked, Xizor carefully slipped a muzzle gag over Kaird’s stubby beak-like mouth. “Just in case you feel a sudden urge to try the control phrase on our metallic friend.” Then he moved past Kaird on his way to the aft hatch. The droid followed, as meek an automaton as Kaird had ever seen. There seemed to be no other choice, so Kaird rose and followed the droid.
It was just past dusk here, deepening into full night. As Kaird stepped from the hatch gangway onto the black, tarry ground, he was struck by the utter silence of the place. No breeze stirred; no insects or other night sounds were audible. But there was a tension to the night air, as if some massive, unseen creature held its breath while inspecting them. Without malevolence, or impatience, or even curiosity; rather with a clinical detachment, which was all the