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Maul spun the lightsaber and angled it slightly. Stopping the blasterfire was easy. Redirecting it properly was a bit more difficult, but certainly not impossible. The bolt bounced from the potent energy lance and ricocheted into the nearest Squid Head, striking him on the thorax. The Quarren collapsed.

Maul allowed himself a slight frown. The deflected beam was two centimeters lower than he had aimed. Poor control on his part.

A second blaster bolt from the Trandoshan seared its way at him, and another quick shift, guided by the dark side, caught that bolt and returned it to the sender. The Trandoshan took the deflected beam in the face. He went down, twitching in his death throes, his face a blackened ruin of flesh and scales, at the horrified Neimoidian’s feet.

Better.

Maul leapt at the remaining Quarren, who had his blaster halfway up. The Squid Head fired a panicked round, far too low to do any damage save to the floor. Then the lightsaber arced, and with a snap of his wrists, Maul lopped the Quarren’s tentacled head from his neck.

The battle had begun and ended far too quickly for the Neimoidian to even think about running. He cowered in the chair, hands uselessly raised to ward off danger. He didn’t even have a weapon.

Maul shut the lightsaber off and hooked it back on his belt. He spared a contemptuous glance at the three corpses. His dueling droids had given him a better fight than these three had. Pitiful.

He turned toward the terrified Neimoidian. Slowly he raised his gloved hands and slipped his cowl back and off, revealing his frightening visage. He smiled, showing his teeth, adding to the effect.

A pungent reek became noticeable over the stench of death in the room. The Neimoidian’s bladder sac had let go its contents.

“Hath Monchar,” Darth Maul said. “We have things to discuss, you and I.”

As Lorn and I-Five reached the cube complex, the droid said, “Approximately one hour and thirty-three minutes left. Speed is of the essence. As it is, even assuming the meeting with the Hutt goes smoothly, the police will probably be searching for us while we’re en route to the spaceport.”

“Don’t worry about me, just you be ready to—Hey, what happened to the door?”

“It appears to have had a disagreement with somebody,” I-Five said. “Not a big surprise in this neighborhood. In any event, that’s not our concern, is it? Now hurry!”

Lorn nodded and entered the building. In the small lobby he paged the lift tube to take him to the fourth level, where the Neimoidian supposedly had a residence. Monchar must be low on funds to be staying in a dive such as this—or perhaps trying very hard not to be noticed. Either way, the quicker Lorn could make the exchange and leave, the happier he’d be. He kept his grip on the blaster in his pocket and tried to look nonchalant as he waited for the lift tube to arrive. Nonchalant was hard to pull off at this juncture. The credit tab in his wallet felt like it was made of fissionable material. It wasn’t every day he tried to scam a million-credit deal.

Caught in the power of the dark side, the Neimoidian struggled to breathe. Maul’s left hand, raised before him, tightened into a fist, and the Neimoidian’s throat constricted even more.

“Ready to talk?” Maul asked.

The Neimoidian could not speak, but he managed a nod. The crimson sclera of his eyes had darkened several shades due to blood congestion.

Maul relaxed his fist and his concentration. Hath Monchar collapsed on the floor, wheezing as he tried to suck in a breath.

“Who else knows?”

“No—no one, except a human, Lorn Pavan.”

Maul sensed the truth of Monchar’s words. This was good. All he had to do was kill the Neimoidian, then find the human and kill him. And then this dreary chore would be at an end.

“Where can I find the human now?”

“I don’t know.”

Maul’s hand clenched again. Monchar choked, gasping once more for air. Maul released him.

“Where?”

“He—he’s coming here to buy the holocron!”

“When?”

“Any time now!”

Maul smiled. He had all the information he needed.

“Excellent.