Star Wars_ Coruscant Nights II Streets of Shadows - Michael Reaves [93]
Kirma Umber looked past her mate. Her emotions were now very different from those Jax had perceived earlier. “And she is a Zeltron. That explains, but does not excuse.”
“Nothing happened,” Umber reiterated, with as much force as he could muster without shouting. His earnestness spread through the Force, and Jax believed him.
His mate met his gaze, held it, and finally turned to the Jedi. “I confronted Ves Volette. I left in a fury, but I left him alive.” She turned back to Jax. “You must believe me! I didn’t kill him.”
A voice not yet heard from finally made itself known. It was calm, controlled, methodical. It was also from the last entity the Umbers and Haus were expecting to hear from.
“I did.”
twenty-six
Typho’s hands did not tremble as he entered the electronic address. There was silence after he finished, save for the faint susurrus of static. He imagined an aide speaking deferentially to the Emperor’s second in command: Lord Vader, the communication you requested be brought immediately to your notice is retained for your attention on channel six. Or words to that effect. Typho wondered what sort of humor his attempt to contact Vader had left the Dark Lord in. His mind’s eye saw Vader alone in a dark chamber, surrounded by humming, flashing technology, no doubt far more comfortable in such environs than in the presence of servile organics. His aides were in all likelihood unable to keep from engaging in the most obvious sort of fawning and scraping in the hope of incurring some small smidgen of their master’s favor. Annoying as such types were, they were sometimes necessary; Vader couldn’t do everything by himself, couldn’t be everywhere at once, and seeing to the organization and consolidation of the Empire no doubt demanded every moment of his conscious hours.
Except for this one interruption. For something like this he would make time.
The holoproj flickered and took shape. Typho watched as the three-dimensional image of the Dark Lord swiveled around in a massive blue-black control chair and thoughtfully regarded him.
From Vader’s point of view Typho was merely a human male, with his face masked. Though he felt nothing, he knew that the Dark Lord was reaching out with the Force, trying to divine the entity behind the disguise. He could imagine Vader’s frustration as the latter found his attempt mysteriously blocked. He was betting everything on the taozin’s skin node working now.
If Vader was being stymied in his attempts to read him, the Dark Lord gave no sign of it. “You know who I am,” he said. “Who are you, who begs my attention?”
“My name is for my family,” Typho replied. “I have something you want.”
Vader nodded, the heavy helmet bobbing slightly. “So you claim. Whether you speak the truth remains to be seen.”
“Then see, and believe.”
The projection wavered slightly as a smaller image was superimposed within the first. It showed the end of some meeting that had just broken up, clearly recorded from a cloaked pickup. The assembly and its purpose would not concern the Dark Lord. What would catch his attention, Typho knew, was the figure of a young man coming toward the pickup’s viewpoint. Automatically adjusting for distance, the device kept the human in focus and proper dimensions. There was no question of the identity. The image’s voice—with that of the pickup’s owner carefully and professionally deleted—provided what further confirmation was needed.
“Ah.” Satisfied, Vader relaxed in his command chair. “The traitorous Jedi Jax Pavan.”
“You want him. I can give him to you.”
“And in return?” Vader sounded impatient. Whole worlds waited, no doubt, on his decisions.
“Nothing much. Five million Imperial credits.”
“You are bold,” Vader said, a note of amusement in his deep voice. “Resourceful as well, in your attempt to hide your mind from the Force. I find myself … intrigued.
“The credits will be transferred, according