The passenger liner grew in the viewport. Almost show time.
Adrenalin quickened Sate's pulse, shortened his breathing to tight little huffs. He bent his fingers and cracked his knuckles, excited to be working with Lord Maul again. The apprentice was every bit as skilled and ambitious as his master.
It was like working with a younger Sheev again, only without the carousing and the humor. Better yet, Lord Sidious relied on his reports in order to evaluate his apprentice, which even gave Pestage a bit of influence over the future of the Order. A slight hand in Destiny.
Maul had procured them an Action III freighter, the same as Baylis Ascaris's hijackers were using. Some discussion had ensued about exactly how to proceed, since Sheev thought it best not to hire an entire crew. Save me the trouble of executing all of them when we're done, Sate thought. Yet, the target ship could not be destroyed at the end of the operation, either. Not when the whole thing was cover for the murder of just one person.
Neither of them could be recognized, in Sate's case, or holo'd and then identified in times to come, in Maul's. Sate had procured Mandalorian armor for both of them; it held the added benefit of looking much like what Ascaris's people used.
"Recheck the registry," said Maul next to him at the pilot's controls.
Sate did with a quick scan. Palpatine-pilfered equipment. "Yes, that's the one."
The liner's engines glowed in a quick power-up. Maul targeted them expertly and shot. Fireworks erupted from the tail of the liner and it skewed, dead in space.
Kaeko Adaria sat in her stateroom on her soft bed, fingering the folds of her wedding gown. The rest of her trousseau lay boxed in the hold, like her on its way back to Nemoidia, but her wedding gown, she'd carried with her and hung in her stateroom closet. Now she sat on her bed, contemplating her upcoming wedding.
She did not know precisely when her feelings had changed toward Rominger. She simply felt safe with him, and she believed he cared for her very much. She was getting older, and she could do much worse for a husband.
In the few days before this last trip to her former home, she had begun to care for him, too. There were worse ways to begin a marriage.
Considering her beginnings, she was a most fortunate female. Most fortunate.
A tremendous jolt threw her off the bed. Her gown floated down over her, blocking everything from her sight, just before the room went dark.
The lights flickered and came back on, but fear gripped Kaeko's heart, for she knew what this was.
Maul connected the airlock and Pestage checked it. "Ready," said Sate, and the Zabrak donned his helmet while Sate opened the hatch.
Of course the liner's hatch remained stubbornly closed, and Maul let out an irritated growl, not unlike his master. "Of all the places it would be most convenient to employ the lightsaber," he said, and placed a small charge there instead. Sate donned his own helmet, and they backed away.
A loud bang and a flash of light, and they were in.
Lord Maul said, "I will secure the bridge. Comm me when you are done."
Sate had perused promotional materials for the passenger line and attempted to book a reservation as research for this mission. A lavender-skinned Twi'lek with four lekku instead of two should not be hard to place. The problem was finding her before anyone came to rescue the passenger liner. Sheev had decided after some thought that if Kaeko Adaria were the only person murdered, it would look like quite the vendetta on the part of Baylis Ascaris, and that was what Palpatine wanted, so it must be carried out with surgical precision: Get in, murder, get out.
Of course a Trade Federation Directorate widow about to marry another Director would travel only on the most luxurious level. Sate glanced about the corridor past several screaming passengers to a lift some distance down. He sprinted and got on just as a family of well-dressed Nautolans got off and selected the top level. All the floor level indicators blinked and flashed red.
The bridge had already shut down all the elevators. No matter; Sate knew how to hot-wire many things, including an elevator panel. He took his tool kit off his belt. It took the work of less than five minutes to get the elevator moving.
The doors opened to a half ring of uniformed individuals—six males, two females—seven humanoids and a Thispiassian. A rustle and click as they all drew blasters and pointed them directly at Sate.
Ship's security. A formality, and a piss poor one at that. Sate's own blaster met his palm and an instant later three of them were headless. Blaster bolts zinged past him, ricocheting off the elevator walls and singeing him through his armor.
Sate sighted, fired. Bodies thudded to the floor, not a shot wasted. He stepped out and ran, finding himself on the highest and plushest residential level.
The fools had a placard on the outside of every door, announcing the occupant's choices for a room service breakfast in the morning. He had only to follow the corridor and look for Twi'leki foods.
He skidded to a halt in front of one door whose placard read gruuven shaal, and blasted the door open. An older, heavy Twi'leki male and a smaller, younger female twisted on the bed in flagrante delicto.
Sate resisted the urge for target practice and kept on running.
Another placard flashed past: rycrit stew. Sate stopped and blasted that door.
On the other side of it stood a stately Twi'lek female, a terrified look on her face, holding a long, frilly white dress to her breast as if it were a blast shield.
Lavendar skin. Four lekku.
Sate Pestage lifted his blaster and shot.
Blue blood and brains stained the frilly white dress.