Star Wars - Love is a Warm Blaster - Unpublished by Paul Danner Page B

along the gleaming ridged surface. It had been erased. Cracken did love his irony, after all… “Wait.”
    One hand on the door, Daniera looked at him over her shoulder.
    He touched a finger to the wall and a secret panel slid away to reveal a recessed compartment. From inside Love removed a large replihide shoulder holster that cradled what was quite possibly the nastiest-Iooking heavy blaster pistol Daniera had ever seen. Surprisingly, its bulk slipped easily into place under Love’s left arm. He shrugged on a worn but expensive overcoat that easily concealed the huge weapon.
    “Okay. I’m ready.”
    It was Danlera’s turn to smirk. “For what?”
    “I don’t know, hon,” he said, patting the bulge under his coat, “but with the mood I’m in right now it had better involve shooting a lot of people.”

    The New Republic Security detail at the door watched quietly as Daniera and Love exited the turbolift and made their way down the hall. The pair of heavily armed troopers shifted their weight slightly, greeting the newcomers with the business end of two blaster carbines.
    Daniera flashed her identification and the guards immediately stood at ease, allowing them passage into the hotel room. She stepped in first, pulling on a pair of Duraguard examination gloves.
    Love paused, glancing back down the hall at the teams of NRI agents electronically sweeping the area for the tiniest clues. He shrugged as he followed Daniera into the room, closing the door behind them.
    She was already moving methodically through the living area. “The entire floor has been shut down by New Republic Security. As we speak, NRI agents are interviewing the entire staff, conducting molecular-level scans, and reviewing guest records for the past month.”
    Love nodded. “That’s good. A waste of time and money, but hey, a bureaucracy is still a bureaucracy no matter how high-minded its morals may be.”
    Daniera stared at him, her mouth struggling to catch up to her thoughts.
    He held up a hand. “Sorry. Just give me the specs, okay? Say, do you mind if I call you Dani?”
    “Yes.”
    “Good. Go ahead. Dani…”
    Daniera sighed. “Victim number four is Senator Luralon Odaay, near-human Turian from the Limbala sector. He was 47 standard years of age, married, with one child. Senator Odaay frequently returns to his homeworld when the Senate-in-whole is adjourned, so when it is in session, he only keeps a hotel room in lieu of permanent Coruscant residence.” She gestured at the well-kept room. “The Kaerlia Queen has been his favorite the last few years. In fact, he requested this same room last year.”
    Love absorbed the information. “No sign of forced entry and the murder took place…” His eyes searched out the entrance to the bedroom. “In there?”
    Daniera nodded her head slowly, apparently unenthused about revisiting the crime scene.
    He walked past her, slipping on a pair of Duraguard gloves. “How do you know it’s Grieve?”
    “Bloody and violent death.”
    “Most homicides fall into that category.”
    “And the Sithspawn left his calling card. Grieve,” she hissed through clenched teeth, “What kind of name is that, anyway?”
    “Latarzian. At birth we’re only given our first names. Our surnames are earned from our actions.”
    “But ‘Grieve’?”
    His voice became distant. “His parents probably lamented the fact that they gave birth to him.”
    Daniera gave him a look. “Then I’m not sure I want to know.”
    “What?”
    “About your surname… Love?”
    He offered only a leering smile and a wink. “Ask me again sometime.”
    Love flashed her a morbid smile of amusement, then entered the bedroom.

    Senator Odaay’s corpse was strewn face down across the emperor-sized bed. The thick sheets had absorbed most of the dark blue blood; the plush Tapani carpet had soaked up the rest. A gold-handled vibroknife was jutting out from the small of the victim’s back. Certainly not the killing blow,