It was obvious he didn't belong with the rest of the crowd in the cantina, but Set wasn't trying to blend in. It was common knowledge that mercenaries could find high-paying jobs here on Doan. Set figured anyone who saw him would assume he was just one more soldier-of-fortune hoping to cash in on the escalating violence between the rebels and the nobility.
They'd be wrong, of course. Set was here hoping to cash in, but it had nothing to do with Doan's inevitable civil war. Less than a week ago his former colleague Medd Tandar had been on this world, and there was only one reason he would ever come to a pit like this.
Master Obba sent you here to find some dark side talisman, didn't he? Only you got more than you bargained for. Always suspected you were soft.
Whatever Medd had come in search of, he had died before retrieving it. That meant the item was still here, just waiting for someone to claim it. Someone like Set.
For the past two days he had traveled the scarred surface of Doan, moving from one cantina, barracks, or work site to another. At each stop he asked questions, trying to find someone-anyone-who knew something about the Cerean who had been killed along with the rebel leaders. More importantly, he needed to find someone who knew what Medd had been looking for.
To anyone who asked, he explained that he was interested because he was a collector of rare artifacts. But the people here were wary. Some of them suspected he was working for the royal family. It wasn't easy to get the answers he needed. Still, over the years Set had learned that everyone had their price:or their breaking point.
His investigations had led him here, to this nameless cantina owned by a Rodian bartender named Quano, one of only a handful of nonhumans who chose to try to make a living on Doan.
Eager to get away from the blowing dust clouds rolling across the surface, Set pushed open the door and entered the cantina. He immediately began to regret his decision. It was clear that the crowd in this particular establishment comprised the lowest dregs of Doan mining society. Most of the people here were bent and twisted; the hard-timers, hunchbacked and half crippled by a lifetime of digging up ore for the profit of others. Their clothes weren't just shabby, but filthy, and the acrid stench of sweat and unwashed bodies nearly brought tears to his eyes. Exactly the kind of people Set would expect to find in a Rodian's bar.
The furniture was as wretched and broken-down as the clientele: glasses disfigured by chips and cracks; discolored tabletops tottering on three rickety legs; rusting stools that looked as if they would crumble if given one good kick. Against the far wall was a long, wide bar covered by a slap-dash coat of peeling paint that did little to hide the rotting wood beneath. The row of bottles perched on the shelf behind the bar were covered in a thick layer of dirt and grime, but Set didn't need to read the labels to guess they were all brands that readily sacrificed quality for price.
He noticed two heavyset thugs loitering on either side of the door and quickly sized them up: typical goons-big, strong, and stupid. He could tell from the awkward way they stood that each had a small pistol jammed down the front of his respective belt.
Leaning against the wall behind the bar was the green-skinned proprietor himself, his arms crossed in front of his chest. His insect-like eyes glared at Set from across the room, his tapir-like snout twisted into what the former Jedi could only assume was meant to be a sneer.
Ignoring the uninviting greeting, Set made his way slowly toward the Rodian. Two dozen eyes gave him the once-over as he passed the bar, their collective gaze cold, appraising, and ultimately uncaring as the owners turned their attention back to the brackish sludge swirling around in their mugs.
'Bar for miners only,' Quano muttered in heavily accented Galactic Basic once Set was close enough to rest an elbow on the bar. 'You not drink. Go away.'
Set reached out and casually dropped a pair of hundred-credit chips on the counter. The Rodian tried to act nonchalant, but Set could sense that he was suddenly holding his breath.
'I was hoping we could have a little chat,' Set told him, getting right to the point. 'Alone.'
In a flash the chips disappeared and Quano was standing on top of the bar.
'Cantina closed!' he shouted at the top of his lungs. 'Time to go! Back to work! Everybody out!'
Most of the crowd rose grudgingly from their seats, muttering darkly as they shuffled to the door. One stubborn soul stayed sitting, doing his best to keep his wobbly chair from being knocked over by the other patrons heading for the exit. The bartender clapped his hands together twice, and the bouncers by the door quickly moved in.
They grabbed the man, each one seizing an arm, and yanked him from the chair. Too drunk to even struggle, the customer hung like deadweight between the two hulking brutes, his feet dragging limply on the floor as they forcibly ushered him out. Upon reaching the exit, the bouncers rocked their human cargo back and forth several times in a surprising display of coordinated effort, building momentum before hurling him through the doorway and onto the hard ground outside. It would have been a lie for Set to say he wasn't impressed by the distance they achieved.
With the last customer gone, one of the bouncers slammed the door and latched it shut. Then they both turned to face Set, grinning as they resumed leaning against the wall on either side of the room's only exit.
Set couldn't help but admire the Rodian's utter and complete lack of subtlety. Most proprietors would have invited Set into a back room to chat rather than shutting down their entire establishment for only two hundred credits. Judging by the general decor, however, the establishment was barely profitable.
Not that Set really cared. He wasn't trying to keep a low profile. He was used to leaving memorable stories in his wake; if anyone ever came to investigate he would be long gone, so what did it matter if he had another tale to add to his legend? Over time the details would inevitably become exaggerated, and one day people would marvel at how Set had been so wealthy that he had paid thousands of credits to shut down an entire cantina just so he could speak to the owner.
'Nobody bother us now,' Quano said from behind him, hopping back down onto the floor. 'You want drink?'
'I'm a collector interested in rare artifacts,' Set replied, ignoring the question and cutting right to the chase. He wanted to spend as little time here as possible. 'Rings. Amulets. That kind of thing.'
Quano shrugged. 'Why you tell Quano?'
'Word around the camp is you sometimes have these kinds of items for sale.'
The cupped antennae on the bartender's head twitched ever so slightly. 'Maybe,' he whispered, leaning forward so Set could hear him. 'Miner finds things. Him wants to sell it offworld. Maybe Quano help him.'
'Then this is your lucky day,' Set replied, somehow managing to flash a dazzling smile despite the pungent aroma of alien pheromones wafting off the Rodian. 'Like I said-I'm a collector. A wealthy collector.'
Quano cast a quick glance around the empty room, almost as if he expected someone to be listening in on their conversation. Set recognized it as a nervous reflex developed after years of making shady deals in public places.
'What you interested in?'
'I think you know what I'm looking for. The same thing as the last collector who came here. The Cerean.'
'Him not collector. Him Jedi. You Jedi, too?'
Set sighed. This was going to drive the price up. Never did understand the value of keeping a low profile, did you, Medd?
'Do I look like a Jedi?'
The Rodian tilted his head from one side to the other before answering. 'No. Look more like bounty hunter.'
'Does it really matter? I want to buy what you're selling. And I've got plenty of credits:if you've got the merchandise.'
'Stuff not here. Quano just middle-being. Miner have it.'
'Can you take me to whoever has it?'
Quano shook his head. 'Miner change his mind. Not for sale no more.'
'Everyone has a price. I'm a wealthy man. If you take me to him, I'm sure we can come to some agreement.'
Another shake of the head. 'Last time Quano take someone to meet miners, everyone end up dead. Too risky.'
'I'm willing to take that chance.' The Rodian snorted. 'Quano not care about risk for you. Miners say if Quano show up again, they kill him.'
