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It worked, of course. He could feel his full objectivity returning. He did not have to glance in Laranth’s direction to know that she had resorted to the same tactic. He noticed that Dejah seemed slightly discomfited, as if she were aware that her aphrodisiacal scent was not having the desired effect. Jax thought none the less of her for trying it. It was natural for her to use everything in her physical and biochemical arsenal to persuade them to the greatest extent possible. Even though he had already agreed to help, she was just trying to finalize the deal.

After the near-disastrous episode with Prince Xizor, he had made a point of learning which sentients in the galaxy utilized pheromones to influence emotions and behavior. It had allowed him to anticipate the Zeltron’s effort. Forewarned was definitely forearmed in a situation like this. By the same token, he was not sure if her telempathic abilities were strong enough to project emotions into others’ minds without their consent. But if such were the case, the Force would warn him of any attempts by Dejah to influence him that way as well.

“Well, then,” he ventured, politely pretending not to notice her uncertainty, “let’s get started.” He turned to the Elomin, who huddled in a seat in a dark corner of the room. “Rhinann, you know who to contact at the ports. Start the process while I-Five and I go with Dejah to talk to her Caamasi friend. Laranth, you and Den—” He paused, looking around. “Hey, where is Den?”

“Here,” came the Sullustan’s voice as he stepped back into the room from the hallway. “Just needed some air.”

There was something in his tone that didn’t sound quite right to Jax. True, Den wasn’t always the most enthusiastic of participants in their various undertakings, but if he had doubts about the advisability of taking on a client or a case he also wasn’t reticent about letting his comrades know where he stood. Probing in the Sullustan’s direction, Jax sensed dissatisfaction and annoyance. He couldn’t tell what the source of the troubled emotions was, however, and didn’t have time to probe deeper.

Well, he told himself, if he’s got a real problem, he’ll mention it sooner or later.

“You and Laranth hit the streets,” he told Den. “You know what to look for.”

“Right.” Den sighed. Again he sounded uncharacteristically glum. Typically, Laranth said nothing, just nodded once and headed for the exit. Den trailed in her wake.

Jax glanced at I-Five as he and the droid accompanied Dejah out to her skimmer. Hard to tell what the droid might be thinking about Den’s moodiness. Although I-Five was extremely good at simulating emotions and thoughts by subtly manipulating the angle and intensity of his photoreceptors, as well as uncannily mimicking human body language, his ability to project nuance and subtext could extend only so far.

According to the Jedi’s chrono, it was just after sunset. For the most part the surface streets were already dark. Although the street sconces were designed to work for centuries, many had been in place for millennia and had either burned out, been broken, or been stolen. Most of what illumination there was came from glow rods carried by pedestrians or from fires in refuse barrels.

So much for the spread of advanced technology, he thought.

While the streets were dark, they certainly weren’t quiet. The constant babble of thousands of beings speaking hundreds of languages, patois, pidgin, and favored dialects blended together to create a rich basilect brew. Cheunh, Durese, Bocce, Hapan, and multiphonic other voices not only made it impossible for Jax to hear himself think, it sometimes made it impossible even to be certain in which tongue he was trying to think.

Dejah Duare’s skimmer had been parked three meters above the street, where it hovered, waiting for the return of its owner. Employing a secure remote, she brought it down within reach. The vehicle was an F-57 Nucleon, with inertial stabilizers and a Class