Revenge of the Jedi/Part 35

"Has our guest found his tongue yet?" Celop Faro asked.

"Not yet, my lord," his Zeltron interrogator replied.

"You've baited him with references to Milagro, I trust?"

"Of course, my lord." Celop sensed her pheremonal attempts to ease his concerns. "He's careful not to give much away, even when I mention the cyborg. I'd almost believe it was genuine, but it's…too perfect, if you know what I mean."

"A story so well-rehearsed it becomes his truth?"

"Yes, my lord, that's the perfect phrase." She smiled, and Celop allowed himself to be eased, even though his heart belonged to another. "But it's too good. He could be the genuine article, but I have a hunch he's just superbly trained.  And apart from us, nobody can train spies that well except the Republic, and maybe Aresh."

Celop took her hunches seriously, because she had a touch of the Force. Not enough to be trained, even as an adept, but enough to be useful; he had carefully shepherded her into his service before another Sith Lord could perceive her gifts and snatch her away. His datapad vibrated with an incoming message, and he said, "Well, continue your work; employ whatever means you see fit. If it goes on too long, I'll do some work on him myself.

"Yes, my lord."

After Celop finished reviewing the decrypted message, he permitted himself a tight smile and turned to one of the other technicians in the Kiss of Death ' s Intelligence section. "Assume a light freighter is traveling at standard hyperdrive speed for a ship of that class. How long will it take to travel from Pelagon to Allanteen, using the fastest route, with no stops?"

The Bothan pulled up the data. "Approximately eighteen hours, my lord."

"Now assume travel at military speed."

"…between ten and twelve hours, depending on the military vessel, my lord."

"Excellent. Carry on."

As he transmitted the call signal to his team and collected the special parcel his slicer droids had prepared, Celop felt triumph flow through him. He had the Jedi now, he was sure of it; when the Second Chance landed on the shipyards, they would be taken and slain—all but those whose survival had been guaranteed by such a useful betrayal, for Lady Gasald was not ungenerous to those who served her best. And when Celop had well and truly masterminded the demise of these would-be assassins, Vedya would have no choice but to see how his competency demonstrated the depth of his feelings for her.

He was pleased all the more to find them assembled and awaiting instructions in a hangar bay normally reserved for Sith Lords—nine killers of nearly as many species, dressed down to blend in with the rabble of any spaceport in the galaxy. At a glance, Celop saw two disruptors, a flamethrower, a high-precision sniper rifle that cost more than a starfighter, sonic blasters, some automatic slugthrowers and flechette launchers, and more grenades than an infantry platoon might carry.

The huge Houk had a Kowakian monkey-lizard on his shoulder. Celop had questioned the wisdom of that particular approach the first time he had brought the team together; the thing squawked and laughed almost continuously, and even the other team members seemed to hover on the edge of shooting it at all times. When Celop had pointed out the problems, the Houk had merely whispered to the creature, which had scampered down his body and across the deck in the flash of an eye. Celop only had time to recoil in horror before the monkey-lizard leapt onto his belt and backflipped off, carrying his lightsaber with it. A simple tug of the Force had torn the weapon away, but that had been more than enough time for two of the other killers to take aim at Celop's face. Containing his unease and glad he had not brought Jaigan along, Celop had let the monkey-lizard go.

Best and most disturbing of all, far more than specialized weapons or bizarre fauna, each killer's mind was little more than a buzz of nonsense: one worked through the parts of a hyperdrive system, another translated the Imperial Anthem into Bocce, and still another worked through multiplication tables on the Huttese counting system. An insectoid in the unit even kept up a low-level mental drone. The end result was that Celop could get no sense of any of their thoughts without pressing on their minds with considerable Force; if he passed them in a spaceport crowd, he would never look at them twice.

And the Jedi would never have the chance for the second look.

"They're inbound," he announced. "Approximately ten hours from now; no more than eighteen."

A Human marked the time while the Rodian team leader said, "That's quite a range, Lord Faro."

"We know they're inbound on the Second Chance; our surveillance droids will watch for a freighter of that class and inform you. The corridor between Cresh and Dorn Quadrants might present a useful ambush point—"

"You don't need to tell us our business, Lord Faro," the Rodian said. "Every being here has killed Force users before."

Celop was not used to being interrupted, and neither did he care for the way the Rodian said Force users instead of Jedi. Nevertheless, so close to triumph—so close to Vedya—he let it go. "Kill Kal-Di first, if at all possible. And be sure you don't harm—"

"We know, my lord. What civilian casualties are tolerable?"

Celop pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes just long enough to convey the point, then said, "These Jedi are here to assassinate Lady Gasald; do what must be done. But the beings on the shipyards are considerably more expendable than the shipyards themselves."

"I understand, Lord Faro."

"I hardly need remind you of the importance of this mission," Celop noted, eyeing each one in turn. "Should you fail—"

"We'll fail only if the Jedi kill us all, Lord Faro," the Human said. "Lady Gasald has other layers of protection; we don't."

"So we appreciate the seriousness of the stakes," a Bothan added.

The Houk pounded one fist into the other, and as his monkey-lizard cackled, he said, "We've got this."

Celop crossed his arms. "I hope so. Check in regularly, and inform me when the Jedi are dead."

The Rodian leader gave an abbreviated bow, then turned away, his team falling in step with him. Celop opened his mouth to call him back—to remind them all that he was not some regional bureaucrat to whom they'd been loaned out, but a Sith Lord. But he held his tongue. He needed them in good form, with no focus but the destruction of the Jedi assassins.

He did, however, have one more task. "Commander, a private word."

The Rodian waved off his comrades, who walked some distance away but waited. The Rodian neither showed nor felt any fear Celop could detect. "Yes, Lord Faro?"

Celop took his special parcel off his belt. "After the Jedi are destroyed, I'll need you to locate their ship, and replace its navicomputer with this one."

The Rodian took the case. "Where have they been?"

"That's classified. Just see to it that it's done.  And tell no one about this."

After a moment, the Rodian shrugged. "Too easy, my lord."

He walked away, and Celop smiled. He had already picked the Intelligence team he would send down to the shipyards to dissect the Second Chance—solid but unimaginative beings, who would be clever enough to understand the implications when it emerged that the Jedi had passed through Sullust on the way to Allanteen, but not inquisitive enough to discover the replacement navicomputer core. It would have been more damning to have them go through Eriadu, of course, but far too convenient; less was more in intelligence work, and a stop at Sullust for reasons unknown would be more than enough to finish the usurper.

When the Jedi were destroyed, and the usurper tainted forever, Vedya would take him as her consort to conquer the Core together. Cheered by that prospect, Celop turned back toward the turbolift, wondering what to wear when he told Vedya the good news…something cut well to his figure, but which he wouldn't mind being on the floor…