Chapter 3.

The plan they agreed upon was to spend the rest of that day within the warehouse. Then, after planetary sunset, they would go out to reconnoiter the Imperial palace. Furthermore, they would each stand guard in shifts. With 21-B-19 naturally going first because he was a droid. But, sleep was slow in coming to Passel Atrubble. So, he turned to Nashira and asked her (point blank):

"Why, exactly, did you kill Jeely and Tuort? The contract promised _equal_ shares for all those who contributed to successfully killing Vader. The only non-negotiable condition being that. . ."

". . .his severed head is brought as proof of completion," Nashira finished quoting for him. "Well, let me put it this way for you. You recruited those two because of the way they took out Phylus Mon. Correct?"

Atrubble nodded. The aforementioned Chevin slave trader had been a documented Force-sensitive! So, it had seemed only logical to recruit his killers for an attempt on the life of Darth Vader.

"Well, the truth is," Nashira continued ". . .they had more than a little help from _me_ on that contract! And I agreed to let them take full credit for it in exchange for half the reward. Only trouble is, they _reneged_ on their end. So, in between all my subsequent hunts, I've kept tabs on them. And, when I learned why they were coming to Coruscant…"

She shrugged, as if to say that she had already explained that part. She then asked the Koorivar a question of her own. "Why'd you cut off your cranial horn? Are the rumors true? Do you really plan to. . .?"

Atrubble nodded. "Once, through each eye. After that? I'll use my share of the bounty to get my horn surgically re-attached. As the Mustafar Massacre will finally have been avenged!"

"What about you, Pappie?" Nashira now asked the Wroonian: "You in this just for the creds? Or, did bringin' them all back alive finally get too dull?"

Justin Papanoida's only response was to arch his right eyebrow. Making it difficult to determine whether that indicated her half-wild guess had been dead on target. Or, that he was just too tired and bemused to dignify her questioning as anything more than rhetorical.

"Probably a little of both," she finally (and wisely) decided before nodding off to sleep.

* * * * *

With the exception of the four humanoids periodically awakening each other, for their respective stints at guard duty, the rest of that day passed uneventfully. With the coming of planetary nightfall, however, everything changed.

Papanoida- -the last one to stand guard- -was trying to keep his mind from growing bored by multi-tasking. This included using his Biotech-6 cyborg headband to scan both the HoloNet News and the Imperial City Police band. And, as a result of the latter, he heard something that immediately made him start chanting: "Wake up. Wake up! WAKE UP!"

The other three humanoids sprang to their feet. Their weapons already drawn, before the first demands of inquiry had even entered their minds (let alone, passed from their lips)! But, Papanoida saved them even that much trouble.

"Darth Vader is no longer at the palace. He's on route to the spaceport, even as we speak!"

"What?!" exclaimed Nashira. "Why?"

"To meet some visiting dignitary from the Nautolan mining colony on Leritor."

Wurrrda the Wookiee growled something which 21-B-19 instantly translated.

"My owner wishes to know how large a retinue accompanies the Sith Lord?"

"At least one platoon of stormtroopers for an honor guard. The Nautolan travels only with his protocol droid. . .plus one bodyguard. A human merc from Ragith 3!"

This gave the other four momentary pause; as Ragithian Humans were close to ten feet tall! The result of genetic engineering, by their colonist ancestors, to cope with the intense gravity of that world. Nashira then looked at Passel Atrubble.

"This is your show. How do you want to proceed?"

"For now?" replied the Koorivar: "We just beat them to the spaceport. "Papanoida; think you can interface with that protocol droid, undetected? Give us some more specific intel?"

The Wroonian's grin was absolutely shameless: "Slice of pastry."

"Then, let's go!"

Thirty minutes later, a Lambda-class shuttlecraft landed at the Imperial City Spaceport. Debarking from the passenger compartment, Darth Vader was greeted, at the bottom, by a golden-yellow protocol droid who introduced itself as N-3PO.

"My master, Lord Garn," it added (pointing to the elegantly robed Nautolan to its right): ". . .thanks you for this gracious welcome. And, he hopes he will not need to impose on the Emperor's hospitality for too long."

"Please inform His Lordship," replied Vader: ". . .that there is no imposition. For we, too, wish a speedy end to the Sauvax insurgency. Indeed; we might have already accomplished the latter, if we had _more_ stormtroopers the size of your bodyguard."

The Ragithian Human just bowed in response. Prompting the Nautolan noble to grin before giving a more sonorous reply (which N-3PO instantly translated).

"Lord Garn says that is higher praise than you know. As he owes at least _half_ of his current longevity to the skills of Master Snoke."

tbc