Star Wars: Coruscant Nights III: Patterns of Force (23 page)

Yimmon’s eyes glittered with sudden mirth. “Pol asked me if I would be willing to expose our connection. I told him that if he’d be willing, I could do no less. Pol Haus was one of the original Whiplash operatives, Jax. One of the very first. Can you trust him? Yes. You can trust him to do what is best for the Whiplash and the people it serves.”

“Then if Kaj’s continued existence seemed not to be best for the Whiplash …”

Yimmon shook his head. “Perhaps you look for layers
of meaning where there are none. The Whiplash, like the Jedi Order, is built on the conviction that people must be trustworthy in their dealings with one another. He’s told me that he means no harm to the adept, and I believe him.”

“Why didn’t he say as much to us?” Jax asked. “He said nothing about protecting Kaj.”

“Not surprising. He’s an old hand at giving potential listeners nothing to hear. Meet with him where you can speak freely and plainly and ask your questions there. Even if I’m wrong about him, I think you’d know if he told an outright lie.”

If you’re wrong?
An unsettling thought. “Could you be wrong about him?”

The Cerean shrugged. “Anyone can be wrong about anything. But, while I have known Pol Haus to lie, I have never known him to be dishonest.”

Jax blinked at the seeming paradox, but realized he understood what Yimmon was saying. There were lies told with the intent to actively deceive and lies told merely to deflect or protect.

“And that,” Jax said, “brings me to my second question—Tuden Sal.”

“Also a trusted operative.”

“Has he told you about his plan?”

Laranth and Yimmon exchanged glances. Then Yimmon said, “We had spoken of him putting together a special cell that would undertake especially dangerous missions.”

Jax knew no other way to say it than straight out. “He wants I-Five to assassinate Emperor Palpatine.”

Laranth turned a deeper shade of green, and Yimmon’s eyes widened. Neither said anything, but waited for him to continue.

“The rationale is that a droid’s thoughts would not be readable by the Force, so his intentions would be
masked and his presence unnoted. He’d be disguised, of course, to look like a threepio or some other similar protocol droid. And since he has no programming to prevent him from doing an organic harm …”

Thi Xon Yimmon was nodding, his eyes veiled. “Yes, of course. The logic is impeccable.”

“But what do you think of the plan?”

“What do
you
think of it?”

“I’m of two minds—almost literally. First, understand that Sal has been less than trustworthy in … well, I can’t talk about my experience, but certainly as regards my father and I-Five.”

Yimmon looked genuinely saddened. “Yes, Tuden Sal told me quite openly of his betrayal. He feels compelled to ‘set things straight,’ as he put it.”

“He has very personal reasons for wanting the Emperor dead,” Jax said. “His family was torn apart over it. He had to send his wife and children away to save their lives—or so he says. And he lost pretty much everything, all in the course of an afternoon—the same afternoon he sold I-Five into service. In the end he didn’t even have the credits from that deal to sustain him. He blames the Emperor and Black Sun in equal parts, and since the Empire allows Black Sun to flourish …” He shrugged.

Thi Xon Yimmon nodded. “And to you these don’t seem like good reasons to put your friends in harm’s way?”

“To feed another man’s vengeance? No. But he’s also made some points about what the continued existence of the Emperor means to the Whiplash, to the Jedi, to the people who live under the Empire’s rule. Those are things I can’t ignore.”

“And those would be your reasons to allow I-Five to undertake what would almost certainly be a suicide mission?”

“He’s agreed to abide by my decision. I’m just not sure …”

“Are those your reasons, Jax?” Laranth asked, suddenly bristling with intensity.

“I … I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“You said Tuden Sal was a man bent on vengeance. What about you? Are you bent on vengeance as well?”

He stared at her, feeling as if she’d looked down into his soul and read his deepest fears. He felt Thi Xon Yimmon’s gaze on him, too, and resisted the impulse to shield himself from them both. Instead, he gave himself up for their scrutiny. Casting open his mind, holding Laranth’s gaze, he said, “You tell me. Please. That’s why this decision has been so difficult for me. I’m … I’m afraid that my reasons for seeking Palpatine’s death might be closer to Sal’s real reasons than I know. I’ve come to understand in recent times that I’m not always honest with myself about things.”

He didn’t mention that by
recent
he meant less than an hour earlier at Sil’s Place.

“I’m a Jedi, Laranth. If I want to stay a Jedi, I
can’t
be a man bent on vengeance. I don’t think that’s what I am, but I can’t tell I-Five to do this thing unless I’m sure. Or at least more sure than I am now. He’s ready to turn himself into a weapon and put the use of that weapon in my hands.”

Laranth held his gaze a moment longer, then lowered her eyes. “There are many reasons why Palpatine should die. He’s a blight on the galaxy—he and the Sith. Yes, I know the theories about cosmic balance and the philosophies about the duality of the Force—” She flicked a glance aside at Yimmon as if this was an ongoing discussion. “But I don’t believe them. Evil is as evil does.”

“Yes,” said Yimmon gently. “And if that’s so, and if Jax commits himself and his team in an attempt to take
Palpatine’s life, then what distinguishes him from those who represent the dark side?”

Laranth’s eyes flashed. “Then isn’t fighting evil itself evil? When Kaj killed that Inquisitor to save himself, wasn’t that act evil?”

“That was an instinctive act of self-defense. Tuden Sal is talking about premeditatedly entering Palpatine’s territory and killing him. Hardly an act of self-defense.”

“But haven’t you always told me that to do battle in defense of others is noble? That even anger can be positive if it is directed at injustice? The Emperor’s death would save uncounted billions from injustice, and from the horrors visited on the Jedi, the M’haelians, the Caamasi—and the Force knows how many others.”

Her voice was low but impassioned. Seeing again her aura composed of blazing, white-hot strands, Jax felt a resurgence of admiration for the Twi’lek.

Thi Xon Yimmon inclined his head slightly, then turned to Jax. “A quandary. I fear we have given you no solace.”

“I didn’t come for solace. I came for your thoughtful consideration—for your wisdom. For that, I thank you.” Jax stood, bowed respectfully, and left the Whiplash headquarters.

As he went, Thi Xon Yimmon’s softly spoken words still rang in his ears:
If Jax commits himself and his team to Palpatine’s assassination, then what distinguishes him from those who represent the dark side?

He had no answer to that.

“Do you think the Sullustan has it?” Rhinann pitched his voice low so that only Dejah, alone in the kitchen with him, would hear.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye as she continued to chop silverleaf into a salad bowl. “If he does, he’s taken it offworld with him,” she said. “And no, it’s not among his personal effects—I checked. If he has it, it’s on his person.” She looked at the wall chrono. “And along about now, I’m guessing that his person is on board a starliner headed back to Sullust.”

Rhinann felt a shot of cold run from his horned head to the soles of his feet. “Are you sure?”

“That he’s gone or that he’s gone with the bota?”

“Both.”

“I’m sure, on both counts. It took him quite some time to screw up his courage to leave, judging from the trace smells he left behind.”

Rhinann snorted an involuntary arpeggio. “Why would he have to screw up his courage to
leave?
It’s staying here that’s dangerous.”

“Yes, but that’s the problem inherent in attachment. He’s in love with the Sullustan woman he just heard from—or at least he thinks he is—but he’s also loyal to I-Five … and Jax, too, when it comes to it. He loves them. He’s attached. He was at home with them—at least he was before I came along.” She smiled and shook
her head. “That’s the problem with these so-serious species. They become attached to the things they love and never understand that if you lose one love object, you must simply find another.”

Rhinann tilted his head to one side. “Odd. I’d always thought of Zeltrons as beings of immense passion. Yet at the core, you’re quite bloodless, aren’t you?”

She didn’t seem insulted. “Not at all. But our passions are usually very immediate, and—” She sliced the last of the vegetation into the bowl and set down the knife, brushing her palms together to dust them free of residue. “—they are many.”

“Yet you seemed quite attached to your deceased partner. Or at least Jax imagines you were.”

The red eyes went out of focus for a moment and seemed to be staring at some point in space or time that Rhinann couldn’t see. “I was. Ves was a creator. He breathed out great pieces of art the way other beings breathe out carbon dioxide. It was exhilarating to be around him, to watch him work, play, whatever you want to call it. It’s also exhilarating to be around these Force slingers … when they’re not hiding out. I wish I could have been here while Jax was working with Kaj early this morning.” She shrugged. “But the Whiplash mission was pretty exciting, too …”

“You’re a thrill addict. Is that why you changed your mind about the Emperor’s assassination? Hungry to be in on a harrowing plot?”

“Now, that was insensitive.” Tuden Sal entered the room before Dejah could fire off a response that matched the look of annoyance on her lovely face.
A pity
, the Elomin thought. He enjoyed nettling her.

“I am simply grateful,” Sal continued, “that Dejah Duare has agreed to support my proposal.”

“Much good it will do you,” Rhinann said. “I suspect
that, when Jax Pavan returns and finds you here, he will feel ambushed.”

Before he could continue, Dejah’s chin tilted up and a smile curved her lips. “He’s here,” she said and hurried to the living room.

Tuden Sal and Rhinann followed. “This should be interesting,” the Elomin said casually, but the emotions roiling in his breast were far from casual.

You can get out
, he reminded himself before he started to hyperventilate.
You can get out anytime you want
.

As he entered the room, he saw to his surprise that Den was there as well.

Jax was both surprised and puzzled to find Tuden Sal and the others waiting for him when he walked in the door of the studio. He read the room quickly, noting that Rhinann and Den were arrayed at the rear of the group—separate from it in a way that it did not require a Jedi to interpret. The group had bisected along lines of conviction: I-Five’s point of view he knew, and Sal’s. Dejah …

He read her most carefully—the bright inquisitive eyes, the shimmer of agitation, the way her gaze darted from him to Sal. He saw the subtle threads now, too, as they reached out toward him. She was not simply exuding pheromones, she was
willing
them to affect him. How had he been so blind to them before?

“Where’s Kaj?” he asked I-Five.

“Dejah cooked him a meal. I expect that will occupy him for a while.”

There was no sense in prolonging this. Jax turned his attention to Tuden Sal. “A wise man asked me a question not long ago. He asked me if I countenanced the same sort of tactics that Palpatine and Vader would use, how I would distinguish myself from them. I didn’t have
an answer to that question. And, in the absence of that answer, I can’t give my active approval of this … mission.”

There was a flurry of startled words, and Jax found himself assailed anew by the strength of their emotional reactions. Rhinann and Den were literally gaping at him, while Dejah took a step backward, visibly stunned and bewildered.

Jax started for the entry to the gallery. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to call Pol Haus.”

On his way to his room, he glanced down to the studio floor where Kaj was in the midst of what seemed a very fine meal, indeed. The aroma alone made Jax’s stomach growl, reminding him how long it had been since he’d eaten. The boy paused long enough to smile up at him, a look of contentment on his face.

I’m glad someone’s happy
, Jax thought.

He went into his bedchamber, intending to close the door behind him, but Dejah took up a spot in the doorway before he could.

“You’re making a mistake,” she told him. “This plot of Sal’s is the best way of restoring the Republic and putting an end to Palpatine’s cruelty.”

“I-Five is an independent being, Dejah. He can make this decision on his own.”

“He refuses to. For all that he swears he’s owned by no man, he certainly seems to be owned by you.”

“That’s not fair to either me or I-Five.”

“So you’re just going to go along, like always, solving cases for Pol Haus and pecking at the Empire’s armored flank until you exhaust yourself?”

He met her gaze, feeling a warm rush of heat as he did. She was fully armed, he realized, and probably always had been where he was concerned. Why? Was it so important to her that she have a fleeting physical relationship
with a Jedi that she’d intentionally numb him to what was going on around him?

“Is that what I’m doing, Dejah?” he asked. “Is that what we are—me, Laranth, Thi Xon Yimmon, the entire Whiplash? Just annoying little gnats buzzing around a juggernaut we can never hope to bring down?”

She advanced into the room, fists clenched, fire sparking in her eyes. “I’m no military strategist, Jax, but even I know that if you want to take down a superior force—be it a beast or an army—you take off its head. No other strategy makes the least bit of sense when you have such meager resources.”

He smiled wryly. “You’ve been talking to Sal.”

“Yes. And I think what he says makes a lot of sense.”

Jax nodded. It did make a lot of sense. In fact, Sal was right. That was the textbook strategy under the circumstances. “Did you bring him here?” he asked mildly.