Star Wars_ Coruscant Nights 01_ Jedi Twilight - Michael Reaves [10]
“He was alive.” Jax kept his voice even, but it was a struggle. “He shut down the moment he laid eyes on you.” And who could blame him, he added silently. Rokko was notorious for being one of the most vengeful gangsters in the underworld. His invention and enjoyment of various forms of torture was the stuff of many a con being’s nightmares.
The Hutt’s two enforcers moved apart a bit, the better to flank him. Jax ignored them, keeping his attention focused on Rokko. The web-like strands that had been gathering about the Hutt since he’d first arrived were growing steadily thicker and darker; now the overgrown slug seemed almost enmeshed in a cocoon of thick black shimmersilk. Some of them had wrapped about his enforcers. Jax could “see” strands extending away from the giant gastropod as well, extending through higher dimensions where time and distance were meaningless, reverberating with their connections to still more beings, on this world and others: beings who had passed through the Hutt’s sphere of influence. Some were living; many were dead. Jax had no desire to follow any of the threads to see the fates of those snared by the Hutt’s web. Rokko was ruthless and thorough, and Jax doubted he would find many loose ends.
What galled him was that he had knowingly done business with a criminal. Rokko was a trafficker in stolen merchandise, a modern-day pirate who didn’t care under what circumstances contraband was produced and obtained, and who was definitely not above engineering such circumstances if he deemed it necessary. He was cruel and vengeful, and many beings had died so that he could keep smoking the finest mixes of spice in his hookah, and noshing on delicacies such as cho nor hoola and live, succulent nuna.
And Jax Pavan, who had once been a Jedi Knight, was facilitating this.
The Hutt made an abrupt gesture of dismissal and turned to slither back into the building. “We are done here,” he said over his nonexistent shoulder. “The contract was unfulfilled, therefore payment is not forthcoming.”
“This is unacceptable,” Jax replied. “The transaction was undertaken in good faith.”
“If you are dissatisfied,” Rokko said as he disappeared from view, “please feel free to discuss the matter with my business associates.”
Jax turned to face the Klatooinian and the Nikto. The former smiled, one leathery hand dropping to the low-slung blaster at his side. The Nikto fluttered his mouth flaps, which was the equivalent of a smile, and gripped his weapon as well. They moved forward together.
Jax stood in a relaxed posture, his hands at his sides. He was wearing no noticeable weapons, save for a vibroknife in a belt sheath, which he made no attempt to draw.
The Klatooinian nudged the Nikto. “Just like a human,” he said. “Brings a vibroknife to a blaster fight.”
There was only one way he would get out of this alive, Jax knew. It would all go down too fast for him to make them forget his presence, and he wasn’t sure if he could, anyway—their bloodlust was up, their primitive minds focused with the excitement of the potential kill. He would have to use the Force, and there was no time to be subtle.
The Hutt’s “business associates” cleared leather almost simultaneously, no doubt anticipating an easy kill. But their confidence vanished a moment later, along with their weapons, as Jax made two small, almost negligible gestures. The blasters leapt from the bullyboys’ grips and across two meters of air to smack solidly into his own hands. His expression was calm.
“Just like a couple of muscle-bound spiceheads,” he said. “Using blasters against the Force.”
The two enforcers stared at the blasters pointed at them, then at Jax, then at each other. Then they bolted in the same direction Rokko had taken, both nearly slipping and sprawling on the trail of slime the Hutt had left. Jax had to move quickly to get out of the way of their panicked flight.
As the rapid echoes of their boots faded,