Star Wars_ Coruscant Nights III_ Patterns of Force - Michael Reaves [13]
I-Five then shifted his attention to Tuden Sal so suddenly that Den felt as if a physical support had been knocked from under him.
“Obviously before we can entertain the idea of such a mission,” I-Five told the Sakiyan, “we need to understand it more fully and weigh its potential for good or ill. Who, precisely, do you want me to assassinate?”
Tuden Sal smiled, and there was an almost mischievous glint in his eye now. “Allow me to test your knowledge of arcane historical esoterica. Have you ever heard of the Monarchomechs?”
I-Five did not hesitate. “Yes. An obscure sect of fanatics out in the Eastern Expansion around four hundred standard years ago. They opposed the absolute monarchy of their system of worlds, and promulgated tyrannicide. Like the B’omarr monks of Tatooine, they were not droids but cyborgs—essentially encapsulated organic brains in robotic bodies. The name, in Middle Yutanese, is a play on the portmanteau, meaning ‘killers of monarchs.’ ” I-Five’s voice was somewhat more subdued, almost speculative, as he continued, “You want me to terminate Emperor Palpatine.”
three
“I beseech your courtesy,” said Haninum Tyk Rhinann as he seated himself in a formchair adjacent to the couch on which the Sakiyan sat. “I cannot possibly have heard you right. You want I-Five to assassinate Emperor Palpatine?”
“Yes. That is essentially correct.”
Rhinann turned his head slightly to look at Jax, who stood behind the couch, his face devoid of expression. Lacking the Force, the Elomin had no way of knowing what the Jedi thought of this mad idea—though the very fact of his having allowed the Sakiyan to present it proved that he did not utterly reject it … as he should have, in the Elomin’s opinion, had he even a milliliter of common sense.
“You realize, of course, that assassinating the Emperor is not exactly a new idea,” Rhinann went on.
The Sakiyan nodded. “Yes.”
“And that it has been tried—with disastrous results, I might add—by people with far greater resources than we have.”
Tuden Sal raised a stubby digit. “I beg to differ. None of the Emperor’s would-be assassins had any of the resources we possess. True, they had material means—perhaps even more than what you command.” He nodded at Dejah Duare, who had seated herself at the far end of the couch, a frown wrinkling her crimson brow. “But they did not have a Jedi Knight in their number, or the intelligence resources of the Whiplash, or the invaluable services of someone so recently close to Lord Vader as yourself. And they most certainly did not possess a droid with I-Five’s special talents.”
Rhinann blinked at the Sakiyan. All that he had said was true—which made it no less insane an idea. Certainly, with Rhinann’s knowledge of the internal workings of the Imperial Security Bureau they might get close to the Emperor’s foremost champion, and thence to the Emperor himself. And conceivably, with I-Five’s unique qualities they might be able to make it all the way to the core of Imperial operations … but no, it was still insane, there was no other term for it. If the droid were to be captured, his memory banks could and would be scoured for information that would bring down the nascent resistance in its entirety.
And as for what would happen to Rhinann himself—he trembled at the thought. The most meticulous and thorough of the Emperor’s truth-scan agents would happily don metaphoric duralumin-toed shock boots and kick their way through the gardens of his mind and memories, merrily trampling all the delicate neuronal sprouts and branchings underfoot until naught but a bloody marsh remained. Rhinann closed his eyes, wishing he weren’t cursed with such a vivid imagination.
He sighed gustily through his nose, rattling his tusks. “No,” he said. “This is not to be contemplated. It’s nerf-brained, preposterous, absurd. The risks are simply unacceptable.”
“And once again,