"You pay one-no, two-thousand, yes?"
"Seven hundred. Or I go find someone else who can help me."
"Okay, deal," the bartender blurted out, unwilling to barter for fear he might let a small fortune slip through his fingers.
To seal the deal, he extended his hand. Gritting his teeth Set returned the gesture. He clasped the other's palm for one quick shake then pulled back, mildly repulsed by the feel of the Rodian's scaly skin against his own.
"You have drink to celebrate," Quano declared. "On the house."
"Pass," Set replied.
"You got credits with you, right?" the bartender wanted to know. "You pay now, right?"
Set nodded. "I'll pay you as soon as we go."
"We go now. Quano just grab something first."
As the Rodian ducked back behind the bar, Set realized there was something off about his voice. Too eager.
So it's going to be like that, is it?
Slipping his hand into his vest, the Dark Jedi whipped out his lightsaber. He ignited it as Quano popped back up into view, just in time to deflect the bolt from the blaster pistol that was now pointing at him. The Rodian let out a shriek of surprise and disappeared back behind the cover of the bar.
He'd dealt with Quano's type before. Set would have been perfectly content to honor the terms of their agreement, but the Rodian had obviously come up with a different plan. Why risk your life and take someone to a hidden base for seven hundred credits when you can murder him in cold blood and take all his money instead?
Set respected the sentiment; after all, he lived by similar self-serving principles. But the bartender had made an unforgivable error by trying to use those principles against a Dark Jedi.
Keeping one eye on the bar, Set turned to face the two burly miners guarding the door. They had probably been expecting Quano's betrayal, but they were caught completely off guard by the failure of his plan. Now the grins had fallen from their faces, and they were clumsily scrambling to draw their own weapons.
Why are the big ones always so kriffing slow?
Set could have stopped them any number of ways: He could have used the Force to yank their weapons from their grasp, or unleashed a wave that would send the guards flying across the room. Given how long it was taking them; he could have leapt forward and sliced them both in half with his lightsaber before they ever fired a shot. Instead, he chose to simply hold his ground, waiting for the inevitable barrage of blasterfire.
His adversaries didn't disappoint him. Set easily caught the first round of bolts with his shimmering blade, sending them ricocheting harmlessly away. At this point a smart opponent would have made a break for the door. Quano's two thugs, on the other hand, simply kept firing, too dumb to realize the sheer futility of their attacks.
Set picked off a few more shots before growing bored with the game. Using the Force to anticipate the precise location of the next two incoming bolts, he angled his lightsaber so that they deflected straight back toward their point of origin.
The first miner was hit in the chest, the other in the stomach. Both died instantly.
Killing his enemies with their own blaster bolts was a longstanding tradition for Set. There were occasions when he needed to keep a low profile, and lightsabers tended to leave very distinctive wound patterns. This wasn't one of those times, but why pass up a chance to keep his skills sharp?
All this time, Quano hadn't reappeared. Set was unsurprised.
"Might as well come out. Don't make me come get you."
The Rodian's green head slowly rose up into view. He was still holding his blaster, pointing it at Set. But his hands were trembling so much he couldn't even keep the barrel steady.
Set shook his head. "If you're going to kill somebody so you can steal their credits, at least go after an easy target."
"You liar," Quano replied, his voice rising defensively. "You said you no Jedi."
With a flick of his wrist, Set used the Force to slap the pistol from Quano's hand. Another gesture lifted the helpless bartender off the ground and yanked him across the room, where he landed in a crumpled ball at Set's feet.
Reaching down to seize one of the Rodian's antennae, Set used it to pull his whimpering victim up to his knees. His free hand brought the blade of his still-ignited lightsaber to within a few centimeters of Quano's scaly face.
"Let's get one thing clear. I'm not a Jedi."
To emphasize his point, he flicked his blade, caressing it against the Rodian's cheek for a fraction of a second. The sizzle of smoldering flesh was drowned out by Quano's scream.
"No kill, no kill!" he blubbered.
The damage was minor; a burn that would heal within a week while leaving only a faint scar. But Set was satisfied his point had been made. Shutting off his lightsaber, he released his grip on the antenna and took a step back, giving Quano room to stand.
The Rodian stayed on his knees, his hand reached up gingerly to examine his wound.
"Now why would I want to kill you?" Set asked him. "You're the only one who can take me to the miners and their talismans. Until I have them in my hands, I'll do everything I can to keep you alive."
"What happen after you get them?" Quano asked, suspicious.
Set flashed him his most charming smile. "At that point, we'll just have to play it by ear."
Set could hear the voices of the miners echoing down the tunnel. He estimated they were only a few hundred meters away; from the tone of the echoes he suspected they were in a large, high-roofed cavern.
They live like vermin, huddled in underground warrens, afraid for their lives. Pathetic.
Ahead, his unwilling guide suddenly stopped and turned to look back at him. It wasn't easy to read a Rodian's expression, but it was clear what Quano was asking: I brought you this far-can I go now?
Set simply shook his head and pointed farther down the tunnel. Shoulders sagging, Quano continued to shuffle forward.
They were close enough now that Set could actually make out what the miners were saying to one another.
"You can't be serious!" a deep-voiced man shouted. "The nobles murdered Gelba! We have to make them pay!"
"If they got Gelba, they can get anyone," another man protested. "I think we should lay low for a while. Let things simmer down."
"I agree," a woman chimed in. "I know Gelba was your friend, Draado. But you're talking madness!"
Set could see light from the entrance to the cavern spilling around a bend in the tunnel just up ahead. Quano crept around the corner silently and crouched behind a rock that gave him a clear view of their quarry. He might have been a coward, Set noted as he moved up to join him, but he had a natural talent for sneaking and spying.
From their vantage point he could clearly see the cave. It was dotted with dozens of large stalagmites protruding up like ugly brown spires from the floor. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, looking ominously like the teeth of some ancient stone monster waiting to chomp down on the people below.
He counted an even dozen miners gathered in a loose semi-circle near the center of the chamber. All of them were armed, just like the four guards he had dispatched at the tunnel's entrance not ten minutes earlier. A few of the miners were sitting on short, flat-topped rock formations. Others paced nervously back and forth. One leaned against a nearby stalagmite. Two men and a woman appeared to be engaged in a heated argument. Four others were standing guard on the edges of the group, blaster rifles drawn while they nervously scanned the cavern's entrance, as if trying to pierce the shadows in anticipation of an attack.
Whoever killed Medd and your friends made you paranoid.
"With Gelba gone, I call the shots," a bearded man was saying to one of the women. "And I say Gelba's death calls for blood!"
"Draado," Quano whispered, speaking so softly Set had to lean in to hear it. "Him one who dig up stuff you want."