“I’m still negotiating with the Central Posting Service about the Stop Comm order,” Tyro said as Obi-Wan and Anakin greeted him in one of the Temple’s small meeting rooms. “The good news is that the order has gone through. The bad news is that I don’t know how long I can suppress the announcement of the arrest. But you might as well proceed to the Confiscation Station at the prison. You have a release for Slam’s vehicle. It’s an Ubrikkian star yacht.”
Anakin whistled. “Sweet.”
“All the data records, ID text docs, and wardrobes are onboard,” Tyro said. A small smile brightened his furry face. “I understand that Slam is a bit of a dandy.”
Obi-Wan was more concerned with other matters. “Give us as much time as you can. It will take us a standard day to travel to Romin from the prison.”
“You know I will do my best for you, my good friend,” Tyro said. “You go into danger, and I wish you safety and success. The Svivreni do not say good-bye. We consider it bad luck. We say, the journey begins, so go.”
Tyro raised his hand, fingers spread, in the Svivreni gesture of good-bye. Obi-Wan did the same. Tyro then pressed his palm against Obi-Wan’s. It was a gesture used by the Svivreni to those closest to them.
“So go,” Tyro said softly, and left.
Mace’s good-bye was not quite as fond as Tyro’s. He agreed to the necessity of the plan, but he didn’t approve of the rule bending.
“Just try not to alienate the entire Senate,” he said. “In other words, succeed.” He drew his robes together in dismissal. “May the Force be with you, and may I not hear from you until it’s safely over.”
The four Jedi had packed their gear and were streaking across the galaxy within hours.
At the Greylands Security Complex, they had no trouble with the papers Tyro had supplied them with. They were given access to the Slams’ ship.
The Ubrikkian star yacht was a light cruiser, built for quick getaways. Equipped with a hyperdrive, it carried no weapons except for two hidden proton torpedo shafts. It had also been modified to contain more secret compartments than Anakin had ever seen. Every time he thought he had found them all, he discovered another hidden within the various deck platings of the ship. The ship had been scanned by the authorities, in hopes of discovering the cache of crystalline vertex the gang had heisted on the Vuma job. No contraband had been found, and the rest of the gang’s possessions had been searched and then left intact.
Ferus went through the computer files. The gang kept meticulous records and multiple ID docs for false identities. Siri found a device to override iris scans and, rolled into a tiny hidden compartment under the cockpit dash, a detailed analysis of the accounting practices of the Senate Relief Fund.
Ferus whistled under his breath. “I could be wrong, but I think they were planning to rob the Senate depository.”
“That’s a big job, even for the Slams,” Obi-Wan said. “Good thing they landed in prison.”
Anakin flipped further through the file. “This is just speculation. They didn’t have a concrete plan.”
“We’ll go over the files in depth later,” Siri said, her head in the Slams’ personal wardrobe closet. “We’ll have to be up on the latest criminal tech scams. There’s a criminal gossip network. Our reputation will precede us. We have to be the Slams. Speaking of which…”
Siri pulled out a purple cloak made of vela cloth. It was embroidered around the collar with thick braiding in a bright shade of green. “For you, Slam,” she said, handing it to Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan eyed the garment. “Questionable taste, to say the least.”
Siri winked at Anakin, but the face she turned to Obi-Wan was serious. “Tyro said that Slam is well known as a dandy. You have to wear it.”
Obi-Wan’s face was a study in distaste as he slipped on the ornate robe. Siri adjusted the elaborate collar so it framed his face. Anakin bit his lip. It was hard to keep his laughter inside.
Siri nodded thoughtfully. “Now you need some boots to match.” She leaned over and pulled out a pair in red polished leather. “Here.”
Obi-Wan took a step backward. “No”
“Oh, for galaxy’s sake, don’t be such a stick-in-the swamp.” Siri tossed the boots at him. “You’re impersonating a criminal. You have to dress like him. Don’t you want to catch Zan Arbor?”
Siri turned her head slightly and winked at Anakin again. He turned away to hide his smile. Even Ferus looked as though he was suppressing a laugh.
Obi-Wan kicked off his travel boots and slipped on the soft leather boots. He turned to the large mirror on the inside of the closet door. “I really hate this,” he groaned. “I look like a full-feathered idiot.”