Star Wars_ Coruscant Nights II Streets of Shadows - Michael Reaves [59]
He needed to be sure, of course. At the moment he was only speculating. But the more he thought about it, the more he compared possibilities and alternatives, the more it made sense.
Now he needed a name. An individual. But he could hardly expect the mundane official seated across from him to have access to the movements of the Sith.
“Are you all right?” Losh asked. “Not that I care what happens to a miserable supplicant such as yourself.”
“I’m fine. Just making sure I have the information I need, you useless lump of worm-munch.”
The Jenet’s whiskers inclined forward. “Even though you are here on official business, don’t forget to indulge in the delights of the world-city.” A beady red eye winked. “The lower levels in particular offer certain pleasures not to be found on any other planet. Of course, being mated and with family I wouldn’t know anything about that.”
“Of course not.” Typho rose from the chair. “Thank you for your time and assistance. I hope you drown tomorrow.”
“And may yours be the bloated corpse that rises from beneath to lift me up.” With a wave of his hand the bureaucratic rodent wiped the floating, glowing information from the air between them. The consultation was at an end.
No one bothered Typho as he wandered the halls. He passed through security scans without being challenged, having left his blaster and the lightsaber he’d taken from Sing in a secure locker before entering the complex. All those individuals in the swirl of beings around him were caught up in their own concerns. Since the Imperial complex was not a place in which to waste precious time, everyone who passed the captain from Naboo assumed he was engaged in important work of his own. Security did not question him. They were looking for those likely to cause a disturbance or enter sections that were off-limits. Security droids stepped or rolled or floated around him, ignoring his presence as he ignored theirs.
How could he find out if a Sith Lord had been on Mustafar at the time of Padmé’s death? If one had been present, it would explain a great deal. He paused long enough to enter an eating establishment. Like any machine, a body functioned better when properly fueled. So he ate and drank, but the food could have been made of tree dust for all the impression it made on his taste buds.
Where and how to begin? To another such a quest might well seem hopeless, but not to Typho. He was experienced and knowledgeable as well as determined. And, having already gained entrance to the Imperial complex, it would be easier to do so next time.
What he needed to do struck him during the last few bites of his meal. A Sith capable of killing a Jedi as strong as Anakin Skywalker would undoubtedly be one the Emperor would keep close to himself—to keep an eye on as much as to make use of him. It might well be possible to learn if any Sith were based at the Imperial complex. Typho had heard it said that the Sith Order had for centuries been pared down to a total of one Master and one apprentice, but he doubted the truth of that—it seemed a perilous way to keep the Order extant. It was far more likely that there were many of them. Far from depressing him, the idea was heartening: it meant that Padmé’s killer might be close at hand, lurking in a corridor or doing the Emperor’s bidding somewhere in the complex around him. The notion stimulated his thoughts and strengthened his resolve.
Tomorrow, he told himself. After a night’s rest he would return in search of information far more dangerous than that which he had sought today. It would not be easy. After all, no one in their right mind deliberately sought to make the acquaintance of a Sith. But Captain Typho was not in his right mind.
He was in love.
PART II
RITES OF PASSAGE
fourteen
There was a reason why the Qarek’k was literally and not just colloquially called a dive in the Neimoidian tongue. To enter, one stepped