I know that, Ben thought. Your face and your name are on the company’s public page. And a whole long list of your likes and dislikes. “Then this is for you.” He put the beribboned box on the desk top.
Gilthor looked closely at Ben, then subjected the box to the same scrutiny. He pulled the ribbon end to untie the bow, then opened the box and gave a brief, uncertain smile when he saw the variety of sweets within. “Uh, is there a note?”
Ben checked his datapad again. “No note. She just left a short message. `Two days.’ “
“`Two days.’ She. Who’s she? What’s her name?”
Ben shrugged. “She didn’t leave one. But she was very short, with long black hair and black eyes. And cute, really cute.” This was a description of Aliniaca Verr, a young holodrama actress currently in vogue. She was from the world of Balmorra, like Gilthor himself, and she was his favorite actress, three facts that Ben had found on Gilthor’s personal page. Ben wasn’t going to try to persuade Gilthor that his admirer was Verr herself; it just seemed reasonable that if Gilthor admired Verr, he’d also be interested in a woman who looked like her.
Apparently he’d guessed correctly. Gilthor practically began to vibrate in his chair. “Two days,” he said. “Until what? Maybe she’ll be in touch again. That’s it.” Abruptly realizing that Ben was still present, he dug into a pocket and drew out a credcoin. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Um, can I use your refresher?”
“Of course, of course. Decor, refresher.”
A melodious droid voice to Ben’s left said, “Here I am,” and when Ben glanced toward it, he saw that one of the silver panels was now cycling between silver and black. Ben smiled and trotted that way.
He spent little time in the refresher, just long enough to determine that its jet-black tiled floor and blue tiled walls seemed content to stay in their respective colors, and that there were exterior windows on one wall. That’s what he needed to know.
Moments later he trotted out to the silvery turbolift access and waved good-bye to Gilthor. The man gave him a distracted nod and spoke a couple of words Ben couldn’t hear. The lift doors opened.
Now was the moment of truth. Ben took half a step forward but did not quite enter the turbolift. He concentrated on Gilthor and imagined, in some detail and with great conviction, himself getting aboard. As the doors closed, he tried to project the image of the doors closing with him on the other side. I got on the turbolift, he thought. Think about the girl.
Gilthor leaned back in his chair and put his feet up again. He seemed to be whistling.
Slowly, quietly, Ben moved at a crouch back toward the refresher. I got on. I went away. I’m gone.
By the time he reached the refresher door again, he was sweating through his garments, but Gilthor never looked his way.
Ben set himself up in one of the stalls, hand-lettering a sign that read IN NEED OF REPAIR. MAINTENANCE HAS BEEN SUMMONED. REPAIRS SCHEDULED FOR TOMORROW. This he placed on the front of the stall, and he kept his Force-senses and more ordinary senses sharp, straining to hear or feel anyone who might approach this refresher chamber. But no one did, and he could feel Gilthor outside, seated at his desk. He could also feel a steady stream of life moving up and down the turbolift, mostly down as the offices were depopulated by the late hour. But no one came to this refresher before Ben was done.
With his tools, Ben unscrewed one viewport panel from the wall and carried all his equipment through it to rest on the planetary ring structure beyond. Twilight was gathering outside, and from here Ben could see all the lights of the city, the majority of them pale blue, pale green, or white, a striking difference from the nighttime skies of Coruscant in all their spectral beauty.
The decorative ring turned out to be made of plasteel, mounted sturdily to the building exterior. It shifted not at all under the occasional breeze. A gap of about ten centimeters separated it from the building edge, and through the gap Ben could see the regularly spaced mounting struts that held the ring to the building exterior.
Though in the growing darkness Ben didn’t think he could be seen, he kept his movements to a minimum as he repositioned the transparisteel panel he’d removed and carefully dogged it back into place.
Then he knotted the cable he’d brought at one-meter intervals. He tied it at about the middle around one of the support struts visible through the gap. He threaded one half down through the gap, tossing the other over the edge.
Carefully he lowered himself over the edge and climbed down the cable.
This put him directly opposite one of the viewports the Tendrando Arms offices. It was only dimly lit, and hangring there Ben could see it was furnished mostly with sturdy looking stand-up lockers as tall as a human man. Weapons lockers, he guessed, given that Tendrando was an arms manufacturing firm, and wondered if he should help himself to a weapon or two. But he shook his head. Jedi weren’t supposed to need anything but their lightsabers-except when they piloted warcraft, of course.