“Not again!” he said. “All right, send a security team to watch him.”
Plagueis waited for an explanation.
“Another winning streak,” the Sullustan said. “A Kubaz this time!”
Plagueis stood up. “I wish to accompany the security team to the floor. I won’t interfere. I’m simply curious about your methods for detecting cheaters.”
“Of course,” the manager said, distracted. “Maybe you’ll spot something we’ve missed.”
Plagueis reached the turbolift simultaneously with the arrival of two Bothans dressed in business suits and remained with them as they weaved their way through the ground-floor gaming area to one of the casino’s Collider tables. Players drawn to the action were clustered three-deep around the table, making it impossible to catch so much as a glimpse of the lucky Kubaz until Plagueis and the Bothans reached the croupier’s pit. Pressed in among females of various species who were attempting without success to get his attention, the dark-skinned, long- snouted male insectivore was seated across from the croupier, behind several tall stacks of credit chits. The game was called Collider because players placed bets on the types and spiraling paths of high-energy subatomic particles created as a result of collisions occurring within the accelerator table and the random firings of deviating electromagnets surrounding it. Due to the unpredictable nature of the collisions, the house enjoyed only a small advantage — where the accelerators weren’t rigged — but the Kubaz was overcoming the odds by betting solely on the particle paths rather than the particle categories.
With the table accelerator humming to life and the Kubaz sliding some of his chits across the gambling grid, Plagueis stretched out cautiously with the Force, sensing intense concentration on the part of the Kubaz, and then an extraordinary surge of psychic energy. The Kubaz was using the Force — not to steer particles along certain paths but to dazzle the electromagnets and significantly reduce the number of paths the created particles were likely to take.
The gathered crowd applauded and roared another win, and the croupier pushed yet another stake of credit chits across the table, adding to the millions of credits the Kubaz had already won. In an effort to see deeper into the Kubaz, Plagueis opened himself to the Force again, and realized at once that the Kubaz had perceived the intrusion. Rising from the chair so suddenly that the females to either side of him were nearly knocked over, he ordered the croupier to cash him out. Without looking around him, he accepted the redeemable winnings chit and hurried off in the direction of the nearest bar. The Bothan security team fell in behind, after promising to alert Plagueis if the Kubaz attempted to leave the casino.
Returned to the upper-tier office where 11-4D was still waiting by the chair and the Sullustan manager was recovering from a flop sweat, Plagueis asked if Colliders maintained a database of players who had earned a reputation by breaking the banks of casinos, not only on Lianna but on other worlds where gambling was a popular pastime. On the wall screen moments later ran images of male and female Ongree, Askajians, Zabrak, Togrutas, Kel Dors, Gotals, and Niktos. Even a Clawdite shape-shifter.
“These are the most notorious of the lot,” the manager was explaining when the image of a Neimoidian came on screen. “The ones the Gaming Authority suspects of having developed surefire methods of cheating. Any who show up at Colliders will be denied entrance.”
Plagueis studied the final images and turned to the Sullustan. “You have been most helpful. We won’t trouble you any further.”
The turbolift had just lowered him and 11-4D to the casino level when he asked the droid whether it had noticed anything telling about the winners’ lineup.
“I find it curious that they are all, shall I say, Muunoid bipeds of roughly the same physical construction, and almost identical in height. One-point-eight meters, to be precise.” OneOne-FourDee looked at Plagueis. “Is it possible they are the same being?”
Plagueis smiled in satisfaction. “Perhaps a Clawdite?”
“I was about to suggest as much. However, it is my understanding that the Zolan reptomammalian shape- shifters are only rarely successful at perpetuating species camouflage for more than a brief time without experiencing intense discomfort. What’s more, the lineup featured a Clawdite.”
“What if it was a being taking the form of a Clawdite.”
OneOne-FourDee gave a kind of start. “A Shi’ido, Magister. The candidate Venamis was monitoring is a skinshifter!”
Little was known about the reclusive, telepathic species from Laomon, save that they were capable of imitating a wide variety of sentient species. The most gifted were said to be able to mimic trees or even rocks. A powerful female Shi’ido named Belia Darzu had been a Sith Lord in the pre-Bane era, creating armies of technobeasts she controlled using dark side energy.
“That would explain the negative blood test results,” 11-4D was saying.
Plagueis nodded. “I suspect that this Forceful Shi’ido has learned how to alter his blood. Or perhaps he merely clouded the mind of the analyst, compelling him to ignore the midi-chlorian count findings.”
They had just stepped down into the gaming area when one of the Bothans hurried forward. “Magister Damask, I’ve just received word that the Kubaz is leaving.”
“Did the Kubaz ask to have his winnings transferred to an account?”
The Bothan shook his head. “He preferred a credit chit. Many winners do, hoping to protect their privacy.”
Plagueis thanked him and swung to the droid. “Hurry, FourDee. Before he gets too much of a lead on us.”
They headed out into the glittering ecumenopolis, where cloud-scrapers and monads towered above them, pedestrian walkways were jammed with beings from up and down the Perlemian Trade Route, and the sky was crowded with traffic. And almost everywhere they looked, they saw the name Santhe — above the doorways to buildings, in advertisements that ran on giant wall screens, emblazoned on the sides of airspeeders and ships. The prominent family all but owned Lianna and had, for the past thirty years, wrested a controlling interest in one of Lianna’s principal enterprises: Sienar Technologies — representatives from which had been guests at the recent Gathering on Sojourn.
Maintaining a reasonable distance, Plagueis and 11-4D trailed the Kubaz from walkway to busy walkway, then across one of the ornate bridges that spanned the Lona Cranith River into Lianna’s sister city, Lola Curich. Past the headquarters of the Allied Tion Historical Society, Fronde’s Airspeeders, a cantina called Thorip Norr … All the while the Kubaz had been glancing over his shoulder and was now increasing his pace as he neared the entrance to a pedestrian tunnel.
“The Shi’ido behaves as if he is aware of being followed,” 11-4D said, photoreceptors fixed on their quarry.
“He’ll attempt to lose us in the tunnel. We’d do better to wait for him to exit.” Plagueis stopped to take a look around. “This way, FourDee.”
Hurrying through buildings undercut by the tunnel, they emerged just where the pedestrian bypass debouched into a public square fronted by restaurants and boutique shops. OneOne-FourDee sharpened his optical receptors and trained them on the mouth of the tunnel. “Based on the rate of speed at which the Shi’ido was walking when he entered the tunnel, he should have exited by now.”
“And indeed he has,” Plagueis said. “Direct your attention to the hefty Askajian who is passing by the Aurodium Spoon.”
The droid’s photoreceptors rotated slightly. “The Shi’ido skinshifted inside the tunnel.”
“I suspected he might.”
“Would that I had a tool comparable to the Force, Magister.”
They resumed their clandestine surveillance, shadowing the Askajian now, who led them on a convoluted tour of Lola Curich that ended at an automated InterGalactic Banking Clan kiosk alongside a PetVac franchise. Plagueis relied on 11-4D to furnish an update on the skinshifter’s activities.
“He has deposited the credit chit,” the droid said. “But I’m unable to provide the account number. Even my macrovision pickups have their limitations.”
Plagueis gestured in dismissal. “That won’t be a problem.”
They waited until the Shi’ido had exited the kiosk to dart inside. With the help of IBC codes Plagueis supplied, 11-4D soon acquired not only the account number but also the identity of the holder.
“Kerred Santhe the Second,” the droid said.
