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The droid’s tone of voice combined anguish and wonder, but the change in him was so unexpected and remarkable that the Prelate and his bearers could only gape, as if a miracle had occurred in their midst. A babble of chitterings was exchanged, before the Prelate swung back to Obi-Wan and Anakin, raising the blasters once more.

“But they meant no harm, Excellency!” the droid intervened. “t’laalak-s’lalak-t’th’ak fled in response to their questions! Master Obi-Wan and Jedi Skywalker sought merely to ascertain the reason!”

The Prelate’s gaze singled out t’laalak-s’lalak-t’th’ak.

TC-16 translated.

“Master Kenobi, the Prelate advises you to pose your questions, and to leave Charros Four before he has a change of heart.”

Obi-Wan looked at t’laalak-s’lalak-t’th’ak, then at TC-16. “Ask him if he remembers the chair.”

The droid relayed the question.

“He remembers it now.”

“Was the engraving done here?”

“He answers, ‘yes,’ sir.”

“Was the chair brought to Charros Four by the Neimoidians or by another?”

“He says, sir: ‘By another.’ ”

Obi-Wan and Anakin traded eager looks.

“Was the hyperwave transceiver already affixed to it?” Anakin asked.

TC-16 listened. “Both the tranceiver and the holoprojector itself were already affixed to the chair. He says that he did little but inscribe the legs of the chair and tweak some of its motion systems.” Lowering his voice, the droid added: “May I say, sirs, that t’laalak-s’lalak-t’th’ak’s voice is … quavering. I suspect that he is hiding something.”

“He’s afraid,” Anakin said. “And not of Nute Gunray.”

Obi-Wan looked at TC-16. “Ask him who made the transceiver. Ask him where it shipped from.”

t’laalak-s’lalak-t’th’ak’s chitterings sounded contrite.

TC-16 said: “The transceiver unit arrived from a facility known as Escarte. He believes that the device’s maker is still there.”

“Escarte?” Anakin said.

“An asteroid mining facility,” TC-16 explained, “belonging to the Commerce Guild.”

Ten years ago it would have had all the makings of a fullblown diplomatic incident,” Intelligence officer Dyne was explaining to Yoda and Mace Windu in the data room of the Jedi Temple.

Filled with computers, holoprojector tables, and communications apparatus, the windowless chamber also housed an emergency beacon that transmitted on a frequency known only to the Jedi, allowing the Temple to send and receive encrypted messages without having to rely on the more public HoloNet.

“Since when are the Xi Char so forgiving?” Mace asked. Dressed in a brown belted tunic and beige trousers, he was poised on the edge of a desk, one booted foot planted on the shiny floor.

“Since they’ve been forced to make do with subcontracting work,” Dyne said. “What they want is to get back in the game by landing a nice fat Republic contract for starfighters or combat droids. It has to be driving them mad, knowing that Sienar is getting even richer on techniques he basically stole from them.”

Mace glanced at Yoda, who was standing off to one side, both hands resting on the knob of his gimer stick. “Then the Xi Char Prelate isn’t likely to report the incident to the Senate.”

Dyne shook his head. “Not a chance. No real harm was done, anyway.”

“Reach the ears of the Supreme Chancellor, it won’t,” Yoda said. “But surprised I was by Obi-Wan’s report. Losing some of his better judgment, Obi-Wan is.”

“We both know why,” Mace said. “He’s become Anakin’s partisan.”

“If the Chosen One Skywalker is, then a hundred such diplomatic incidents we should suffer without concern.” Yoda shut his eyes for a moment, then looked at the Intelligence analyst. “But come to tell us of these things, Captain Dyne hasn’t.”

Dyne grinned. “We’ve succeeded in deciphering the code Dooku—and, we have to assume, Sidious—has been using to communicate with the Council of Separatists. Using the code, we were able to intercept a message sent to Viceroy Gunray, through the mechno-chair.”

Mace came to his feet. “Your people have been working on cracking that code for years.”

“The chair’s