Star Wars_ Coruscant Nights 01_ Jedi Twilight - Michael Reaves [97]
He knew nothing about the holocron save that it was ancient, and of Sith origin, judging by the inscriptions. It was in his possession because he had succumbed to an act of irrational desperation. He, Haninum Tyk Rhinann, who prided himself on never acting out of unconsidered or hasty judgment, had done the unthinkable for an Elomin: he had been rash. He had stolen the holocron in the purely illogical hope that there might be some knowledge in it that could somehow protect him from Darth Vader.
This was foolish on all sorts of levels, and he knew it. Just because the holocron might be of Sith origin didn’t mean it contained anything that could be used against Vader. Yes, the man was a Sith, but as far as Rhinann knew the last representative of that ancient Order had lived thousands of years ago—there was no real reason to assume that any data the holocron carried would be pertinent now. For all he knew, it might contain nothing more than a list of long-forgotten recipes—and that was if, after all this time, the contents had remained intact. He wasn’t even sure he could access whatever information might still be contained within it.
He knew all this. Yet still he had absconded with it; had stolen Imperial property, which in and of itself was a shocking abrogation of his own personal standards.
No, there was no excuse whatsoever for his action, save that of naked fear. And the mere fact that he was so desperate upset him almost as much as the desperation itself.
thirty-nine
“Something’s coming,” Laranth said.
Den rolled his eyes ceilingward. “Is anyone really surprised at this? Never mind,” he added. “Rhetorical question.”
“I feel them,” Pavan said.
“So what are they?” Den asked. “Cthons? Stratts? Big, mutated stratts with four arms and enormous tusks?”
“It’s not organic,” the Jedi replied. “It’s a droid. That’s about all I can get at this point.”
“More than one,” I-Five corrected him. “I’m picking up tread vibrations, sonic pingers, and other indications. Based on the imaging data, I’d say they’re either construction, maintenance, or worker droids. Estimating at least four, maybe more.”
Den glanced around the operations center. “It looks like they were pretty cranky when they trashed this place,” he said. “I’d say it’s good odds their mood hasn’t improved any.”
“I think we’d better get out of here,” Laranth said.
“I think it’s too late for that,” I-Five said. “My sensors indicate they’re blocking the exits.”
Den could hear the sound of something—a portal or a partition—being knocked down. Judging by their reaction, the others heard it, too.
“Whatever we’re going to do,” I-Five said, “I suggest we hurry.”
There was another crashing sound, this one closer. Laranth drew her blasters, aiming them at the door. I-Five followed suit with his finger lasers. Pavan lit his lightsaber. He glanced down at Den, then pulled a vibroknife from his belt and handed it to him.
Den crouched down, trying to shield as much of himself as possible behind an overturned cabinet. He looked at the weapon in his hand. Terrific, he thought. It was about twelve centimeters long, with a blade that vibrated fast enough to blur the edge when activated. A vicious and deadly weapon, if one were facing an organic foe. Against a pack of haywire automata, however … Maybe I can cut my own head off before one of them gets a chance.
He looked over at I-Five. The droid’s earlier reprimand still stung, but this wasn’t the time to be resentful. He didn’t want to die estranged from his best friend.
The droid glanced at him. Den managed a grin. “Never thought I’d go out this way—up against a bunch of crazy droids,” he said. He gave