Star Wars_ Coruscant Nights II Streets of Shadows - Michael Reaves [51]
“Sing.” A single monosyllable of acknowledgment.
“Lord Vader.” She didn’t bow, save for a slight inclination of the head. If Vader was bothered by that, he gave no sign of it.
“Your presence precedes you.”
“Only to someone who knows the Force.” Without being prompted, or given permission, she came several steps closer. “Quite a residence—this antechamber doesn’t do it justice.” She glanced at the wall’s electronics, then back at him.
He waved a black-clad hand. “My … lifestyle … requires the constant attention and utilization of certain technical accoutrements that are alien to most.”
Nodding, she examined the sharp angles that had been molded into the ceiling, the jagged cartouches on the walls. “In design you favor the abstract, I see.”
“I am most comfortable when bounded by inorganic patterns and mathematical precision.”
“Yes,” she agreed, lowering her gaze to regard him directly. “Your passions are, so it is said, quantifiable and clinical.” Her tone turned curious. “Or are they mere divertissements?”
His tone did not change, but nonetheless seemed colder. “Do you presume to try to comprehend my motivations? They are beyond you. They are beyond anyone.”
“I presume nothing,” she told him. “I like to have the best understanding I can of whoever employs me. In my line of work it’s important to know all you can about your target. It’s also useful to know all you can about who pays you.”
“Credits.” The massive dark figure before her let out a derisive hiss. “What a weak thing to motivate and bind people together.”
She shrugged. “Works for me. What would you have it replaced by?”
His voice rose, as did a clenched fist. “Unity! Organization!”
She said wryly, “I’ll take the credits, thanks.”
He made a gesture of dismissal. “Even among those from whom one might expect better, the braying of fools deafens.”
Sing tensed. She had no weapons, but that did not mean she was unarmed. “Are you calling me a fool—Lord Vader?”
He laughed.
Few people had heard the Dark Lord of the Sith laugh. When amused, his reaction as promulgated by the specialized respiratory equipment that enveloped him inclined more toward a hissing sound. But this was a real laugh, as genuine as it was humorless.
“You amuse me.” He leaned slightly forward. “A rare occurrence, one that by itself justifies a portion of what the Imperial government is paying you.”
Letting her left foot drift slightly backward and lowering her upper body, she glared at him. This monstrosity in black fabric and metal was causing her to lose her temper. On the rare occasions when that happened, it usually resulted in someone dying.
“I’m nobody’s court jester. You engaged me to capture someone or, failing that, to kill him. I’m not averse to slaying two for the price of one.”
Vader’s amusement was now boundless. Black-gloved hands spread wide. “But if you kill me, Aurra Sing, then who will remain to authorize payment of the credits you so ardently desire?”
Turning her head to one side, she spat deliberately onto the polished floor. “I’ve already filled out the necessary forms.”
“Wonderful!” he said, laughing again. “You are more than I hoped you would be. I foresee the development of a lasting and mutually beneficial professional relationship between us.”
Flattery washed off the bounty hunter like mercury off steel. “I only continue to work for someone whom I respect—and who respects me.”
“So it’s respect you want, is it?” He took a step forward and she tensed, both hands clenching slowly. “I thought it was only a sum of credits. Money is easily given, Sing. It is nothing more than chaff. Respect—respect cannot be given. It must be earned.”
She came straight at him.
It took only a few steps. A little of the Force perfectly in tune with bands of lithe muscle. In a second one out-thrust fist would be in his face and she would see what that composite armor was made of. She knew of no one who had ever seen what lay beneath that