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But Probus Tesla was a professional. Despite his young age, he was a veteran of many such missions. He would perform whatever duty his lord deemed necessary, no matter how demeaning it was.

He raised his head to watch Darth Vader stride to the well-camouflaged window of his sanctum, where he looked out at the cityscape below and beyond. There was no reading the face hidden forever behind the obsidian mask, no body language to observe beneath the folds of the soot-dark robes. Nothing but that earlier pacing, which indicated a certain disquietude.

It occurred to Tesla that this was a test, not of his Force abilities, perhaps, but of his loyalty and his perseverance. He squared his shoulders and aligned his spine. One thing he was sure of—something about this particular quest agitated the Dark Lord. Perhaps if Tesla completed his mission, he would find out what it was.

With that in mind he bowed deeply from the waist, knowing that his lord could see his reflection in the window. “Regardless of what kind of droid it is, my lord, I will find it for you. And when I find it?”

“Bring it to me,” his master said shortly. “In one piece and operative. And if possible, bring Pavan as well—in the same condition.”

“As you wish, my lord,” Tesla said and bowed yet again. He did not let his emotions show—not his disappointment, not his curiosity, not his hope that this was merely a gateway to greater things.

The Force would be with him, as it always was. Perhaps it would help him find this droid, somehow. And just maybe, he’d get lucky and catch a Jedi as well.

four

Probus Tesla.

There it was again—that name. That face.

Haninum Tyk Rhinann increased the magnification of his holodisplay and peered at the freeze-frame image of the Inquisitor he’d heard other members of the Whiplash refer to as “the Bloodfiend.”

This was a human designation, originally a variant breed of terentatek used for tracking down sentients with an affinity for the Force—in particular, humans. The idea that humans hunted their own kind did not surprise Rhinann overly much, but knowing the provenance of the sobriquet in relation to Probus Tesla chilled him to the bone. Tesla was called the Bloodfiend because of his ability to “sniff out” his prey—Force-sensitive humans. He was steeped in the dark side, and it was said his sense of the Force was so delicately and exquisitively balanced that he could pinpoint its usage by a single being in a crowd of a million.

Rhinann didn’t believe it, of course, but he was self-aware enough to know that this was largely envy on his part. He was certain that, were he human, he could stand right in front of the Inquisitor and raise not so much as a ripple in the Force—no more, say, than a droid or a doorpost. The knowledge galled him.

He reapplied himself to his surveillance. Here was Probus Tesla entering the Imperial Security Bureau yet again. According to the scanner records Rhinann had accessed, each time Tesla passed through the various checkpoints in this hive of Imperial activity, he visited not the offices of the Inquisitorius, nor the administrative centers of the Emperor’s functionaries, but rather the palace quarters belonging to Darth Vader.

This was interesting to Rhinann because he had also recently discovered, via a combination of HoloNet research and scuttlebutt from the streets, that Tesla had been asking questions about one Jax Pavan, not to mention a droid who might be keeping company with him, as well as an erstwhile Sullustan journalist … and, last but unfortunately not least, an Elomin who might or might not be seen with one or more of these individuals.

Interesting was not the operative term, of course. The information he was uncovering was, in a word, terrifying, because it indicated that Vader knew more about the company Pavan kept than was healthy for any of that company—most of all Rhinann. Not to mention indicating that Vader had narrowed his search for the Jedi to this very sector of Imperial City.

Rhinann