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Vader didn’t stoop to haggling, Typho noted with relief. Still, the game had to be played out to avoid arousing the Sith’s suspicions. “How do I know I can trust you, Lord Vader?”

Vader seemed not in the least affronted. “You do not, and no guarantees I might make would reassure you. But money means nothing to me. I only want Pavan.”

“Then you shall have him. Tonight, at first darkness. There is a condemned transport hangar in Sector Four-Gee-Two. Come alone to the sixth floor. A dozen stormtroopers or so might make me nervous and put a premature end to our transaction.”

“I need no escort. I’ll be there. And remember: I want him alive.”

“No worries,” Typho said. “I’ve gained his trust, and when his guard is down, I’ll spike his drink with a double dose of dreamdust. By the time we three rendezvous tonight, he’ll be so happily deranged you could tell him you were his long-lost Jedi Master and he’d believe it.”

“A good plan.” Without another word, Vader severed the link. The image imploded and vanished.

So, then—the meeting was set. Darth Vader, the conscienceless murderer whom he had come to Coruscant to confront, would be there in person at the designated location.

“It won’t be long now, Padmé,” he murmured.

“I did,” the mild voice said. All eyes turned to the voice’s source—the Umber family protocol droid. The Baron and Baroness stared in shock at the domestic mechanical, who looked calmly back.

“Yes, you did,” Jax said. Through the Force he read surprise and curiosity from Haus. He looked at the stunned Vindalians. “I’m sorry, Baroness, to have accused you unfairly. It was the only way to induce your droid to confess.”

“But how? Why?” Umber asked.

“Your droid has been in the service of the same family for a very long time,” Jax said. “Much of the time we organics don’t even notice droids. We’ve developed the ability to ignore their presence even in intimate situations.” He smiled slightly. “I speak from experience. We know they’re there, but we don’t acknowledge them unless and until we need them. Yet that doesn’t mean they’re devoid of self-motivation.” He glanced at I-Five. “Take I-Five, for example.”

“But he’s an exception,” Den pointed out. “Your social and interactive programming and related circuitry were illegally modified,” he added to the droid.

I-Five looked down at his friend. “So naturally, you would assume that I’m the only one who can be or has been so modified?”

Across the room, Kirma Umber was moving slowly away from her droid. Away from the machine that had been in the service of the family Umber for longer than she could remember.

“It’s not possible,” she said. “There was no reason …”

“I saw your distress.” The silver protocol droid spoke calmly. “I perceived it silently for years, while the Baron paid his frequent visits to the artist Volette, and his partner, the Zeltron Dejah Duare. I stood in silence, not commenting, while you shouted aloud your fears and worries in the privacy of your chamber.

“The last night you went to see Volette, I followed. Security is, after all, part of my programming. I saw no need to concern you with my presence. I observed your argument with the artist. I registered your body language, the raw emotion of your tone, the heightened conductivity of your galvanic skin response. I determined then the way to best fulfill my programming and my obligation to the family Umber.

“I confronted the Caamasi and attempted to carry out this programming with words. I was ignored, of course.

“I decided at that moment that further action was required on behalf of my owner. I therefore stabbed Ves Volette in the anterior plex with this.” The droid held up its right fist and one of the digits shot up, transforming into a short, lethal-looking spike.

Kirma Umber gasped.

“Your data retrieval spike,” Jax murmured. “You had more than enough strength to penetrate the protective cartilege.”

“True. As there were no direct witnesses, once the Baron was cleared