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forty-one

Kaird had known what was going to happen as soon as the human had opened that soft, fleshy mouth of his and spewed that babble about coming from Black Sun to warn Xizor. Even without Xizor knowing that Underlord Perhi, who had sent Kaird to kill the prince, wouldn’t be overly concerned about Xizor’s well-being, the human just didn’t fit the part. He was hard, yes, no question of that, but he didn’t have the ruthlessness, the certain type of emotional shielding, that marked one of the criminal elite. One didn’t need a connection to the Force, or even to be marginally empathic, to see that. This human wasn’t someone who enjoyed killing, as most of the enforcers did, particularly the human ones. There were exceptions, of course—Kaird liked to think he was one. But then, he wasn’t human.

And it had played out just as Kaird had expected it to: Xizor had pretended to go along, and, as the human led them back to the others, he had subtly, oh so subtly, begun using his endocrine arsenal to influence him. Though Kaird was walking behind Xizor, he could see the Falleen’s skin changing hue as he shed pheromones. And it didn’t take long at all for the human to fall under the spell; his change in body language was obvious, even to a nonhuman.

Kaird remained unaffected by the mind-altering molecular mist. Whether his physiology was sufficiently different in this case to protect him, or Prince Xizor simply hadn’t targeted him as well, the Nediji didn’t know. Come to think of it, why hadn’t Xizor simply mesmerized him back at the Ugnaught slum instead of having the droid zap him? Perhaps Xizor preferred the relative ease of using forcecuffs to constantly having to shed pheromones to keep Kaird under control. But Kaird thought the reason was much simpler—Xizor had liked seeing him suffer, and had wanted the avian in his right mind so as to fully appreciate it.

Prince Xizor now had two pawns—or at least, one automaton and someone favorably disposed toward him—and Kaird had none. The odds weren’t looking good.

It didn’t take very long for the human to lead them back to the rest of his party. Before they came within sight, Xizor bade them halt.

He turned to the droid and said, in a low voice that Kaird knew the human’s feeble hearing would not detect, “Proceed by yourself. When you come within range, stun as many as you can. Don’t kill them.”

Kaird could see the logic behind this. The Jedi wouldn’t, in all likelihood, be able to sense a droid’s surreptitious approach until it was too late.

As 10-4TO headed off around the corridor’s bend, the human said, “Why send the droid on ahead?” His tone was one of puzzled and polite interest, but no more. Xizor’s mesmerizing sweat had done its work well.

As much as Kaird loathed the Falleen, he had to admire Xizor on one level, at least. The prince was always thinking, always working the odds. Even without those controlling body chemicals, he was a formidable adversary.

As the Jedi would soon discover.

The droid disappeared around a turn in the corridor. A few moments of silence ensued, followed by the sound of its arm-mounted weapon firing.

The human blinked at the sound, and Kaird could see reason return to his expression. “Hey!” he shouted. “What the kark—!” He turned to run down the corridor after the droid, but didn’t get very far, due to the stun blast from Xizor’s weapon that hit him squarely between the shoulder blades.

The attack had been sudden and devastating. Den had heard the whine of a blaster, or something pretty much like one, and then twilight-colored agony had struck every cell in his body. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out, but it had been more than just a few minutes, considering how thoroughly he’d been tied up. Whoever did it must’ve thought Sullustans were as strong as Wookiees. Laranth lay perhaps two meters away, also forcecuffed and still unconscious.

Den could hear voices. He looked about, located their source—and felt his insides drop into free fall. On the other side of the chamber, maybe six meters away, stood Prince Xizor, along