Star Wars_ The Dark Lord Trilogy - James Luceno [346]
“In crime, you mean.”
A fire came into her eyes. “We’re not criminals. All right, we’ve done some questionable things, but so have you, and that was in the past. If you come aboard, I promise we’ll stick to taking contracts that will allow you to keep on doing good deeds, if that’s what it’s going to take.”
“Such as?” Shryne said.
“Well, we already happen to have a good deed on deck. A contract to transport a former Senator from the Core to his home system.”
Shryne allowed his skepticism to show. “Why would a former Senator have to be smuggled to his home system?”
“I don’t have all the details. But my guess? The Senator doesn’t share the ideals of the new regime.”
“Is this a Cash Garrulan contract?”
Jula nodded. “And maybe that’s another reason for you to say yes to accepting the offer. Because you owe him for arranging for your escape from Murkhana.”
Shryne pretended scorn. “I don’t owe Cash any favors.”
“Okay. Then you’ll do it to honor his memory.”
Shryne stared at her.
“Imperial troopers caught up with him soon after all of you left Murkhana. Cash is dead.”
From the high-backed chair that was his seat of power, Sidious watched Darth Vader turn and march from the throne room, long black cloak whooshing, black helmet burnished by the lights, anger palpable.
Atop a pedestal alongside the chair sat the holocrons Sidious had asked his apprentice to search out and retrieve from the Jedi archives room. Pyramidal in shape, as opposed to the geodesic Jedi version, the holocrons were repositories of recorded knowledge, accessible only to those who were highly evolved in the use of the Force. Arcane writing inscribed on the holocrons Vader had fetched told Sidious that they had been recorded by Sith during the era of Darth Bane, some one thousand standard years earlier. Sidious didn’t have to imagine the content of the devices, because his own Master, Darth Plagueis, had once allowed him access to the actual holocrons. The ones stored in the Temple archives room were nothing more than clever forgeries—Sith disinformation of a sort.
Vader didn’t realize that they were forgeries, of course, although he was certainly smart enough to have puzzled out that the holocrons were hardly the reason Sidious had ordered him to return to the Temple. But Vader’s obvious anger hinted that something unexpected had occurred. Instead of helping Vader come to terms with his choices, the specious mission had muddled his emotions, and perhaps made matters worse.
What is to be done with him? Sidious thought.
Perhaps I will have to send him back to Mustafar, as well.
He mused on a strategy for a moment; then, depressing a button on the control panel set into the arm of the chair, he summoned Mas Amedda into the room.
The tall-horned Chagrian, now the Emperor’s interface with sundry utterly dispensable Senatorial groups, moved cautiously between the Imperial Guards who flanked the door, inclining his head in a bow of respect as he approached Sidious.
Through the open door to the waiting room, Sidious glimpsed a familiar face. “Is that Isard outside?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Why is he here?”
“He asked that I inform you of an incident that occurred while he and Lord Vader were in the Temple.”
“Indeed?”
“I’m given to understand that unknown parties accessed certain databases, by means of the beacon.”
“Jedi,” Sidious said, drawing out the word.
“None other, my lord.”
“And Lord Vader was on hand to witness this remote infiltration?”
“He was, my lord. Once the source of the transmission was located, Lord Vader ordered a local garrison of troopers to descend on the Jedi responsible.”
“The troopers failed,” Sidious said, leaning forward in interest.
Mas Amedda nodded gravely.
More of his fugitive Jedi, Sidious thought. He has not allowed himself to be done with them.
“No matter,” he said at last. “What business originally brought you here?”
“Senator Fang Zar, my lord.”
Sidious interlocked the fingers of his fat hands and sat back in the chair. “One of the more vocal of the illustrious two thousand who wished