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“Something to look forward to, given the level of intellectual simulation around here,” the droid shot back. “Now, having disposed of the requisite badinage, perhaps we could return to the subject at hand?”

“By all means.” Jax stole another glance at Dejah. She was slumped in her chair, her eyelids fluttering and her breathing much heavier than what was required to keep her lungs expanded. “You might want to keep your voice down, though it doesn’t look like she’s all that aware right now.”

“She’s not,” I-Five confirmed. “My olfactory subprocessor has calculated the volume of alcohol in her blood. Adjusting for species-specificity, I estimate that she will shortly lapse into and then remain in a near-comatose state at least until dawn. Even her pheromone discharges are about twenty proof.”

Jax stuffed a cushion behind Dejah’s head, then leaned forward in his chair. With a hand he waved away a cloud of stimstick smoke that had drifted over from a nearby table full of raucous Kubaz.

“We know that Volette died of a single stab wound to the celiac plexus.” The Jedi stared into the distance. “If I remember my xenobiology classes back in the Temple, that’s the anterior part of the autonomous system node, right?”

“In most hirsute mesomorphic humanoids, such as Caamasi and Equani, yes. A puncture wound of any size there is almost certain to be fatal, much as a wound to the heart is to humans. According to the planetary police ’casts, they’ve hypothesized the murder weapon as a short-edged passive instrument.”

Jax nodded. In the context of the police report, passive meant something other than a vibroblade or other energized weapon. “Then Volette was killed by an extremely primitive knife or its equivalent,” he said. “Which leads us to ask, how was the act performed? If the police theorizing is accurate, something easily concealed but having to be used at close range seems most likely.”

“Which inversely presupposes someone of considerable strength. The anterior region of a Caamasi is protected by a layer of thick cartilage.” The droid gestured at Dejah. “That would seem to exclude her as a suspect.”

Jax nodded. It was certainly true that Dejah could have approached her partner Volette closely without arousing his suspicions, but there was no way she could have stabbed him hard enough to penetrate the protective carapace, especially with a nonvibrating weapon. The Zeltron simply did not possess sufficient musculature.

He realized he felt relief to know that Dejah was not a viable suspect. Had some of those pheromones slipped through to affect his wariness? He hoped not. Life was complex enough already. But even if Dejah Duare could be ruled out, she was only one suspect out of billions. They still had quite a way to go.

“There’s no escaping it, I-Five. We have to find the killer before the prefect’s investigation decides to focus on us. If the cools ever suspect we’re linked to the Whiplash, we’re plasma. They’ll lock us on a moon and throw away the moon.” Jax held up his right hand, showing the sparkling arc of the locator ring that banded his middle finger. “And there’s no way Duare or I can take this police jewelry off or deactivate it without the inbuilt circuitry paralyzing our motor responses while simultaneously communicating our whereabouts to the local cools.”

“Good point, if obvious,” the droid concurred.

“Don’t be so smug. As long as you’re wearing that bolt, you’re just as stuck as—” Jax stopped in midsentence and stared openmouthed as I-Five held up the restraint plug that the police droid had just recently flash-welded to his chassis. The Jedi’s mouth collapsed into a grin as he shook his head. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Yes,” I-Five replied. “Dance.”

Jax took the restraining bolt and examined it. “You never told me you’ve had bootleg anti-restraint programming installed.”

The droid shrugged metal shoulders. “What’s the point of being sentient if you can’t cultivate an air of mystery?”

Jax tossed the bolt back to the