“How’re you feeling?” he asked as he approached. She held out a hand, and he got her to her feet.
“Might be a little hard to fly one of these ships, but I’ll make it.”
“I’ll put her in a tow ship,” Raidah said as she joined him. “That way all she has to do is hold on.”
“You think you can handle it?”
Wesson’s eyes were flint. “Absolutely, Dross Leader.”
“Okay.” He gestured for Raidah to get on with it.
Raider helped load Wesson into the cockpit of one of the T-70s in tow, attached to the T-85, where she took the reins. Pacer was already waiting in the T-65B. With a shake of his head Shriv hopped in the T-70 he’d been working on. The platform continued its slow tilt, and Shriv gave the command for the others to go. Pacer and Raidah lifted vertically off the platform with no trouble. Their tows were attached at the nose and the rear, so that once the primary ship had enough lift, the secondary ship would follow like they were stacked one on top of the other. Shriv watched nervously as the cables reached their maximum stretch and pulled tight. Puwan wasn’t sure they would hold, but they did. Slowly, slowly they lifted off the platform.
With the other two clear, Shriv readied for liftoff.
The space in front of Shriv’s fighter exploded. Platform debris pattered down against the transparisteel of his cockpit and he involuntarily ducked. The canopy held.
“Where did that come from?” he shouted into his comm.
“Cannon fire,” Pacer’s voice answered. “Looks like they figured it out.”
“Want me to take them out…wait…” Cursing and what sounded like a fist against metal filtered through Shriv’s earpiece. “Weapons system down.”
“It’s fine,” Shriv said. “Your job is to get those ships out of here. Besides, you’re hauling a second ship and your maneuverability will be compromised. I’ll be fine. You and Raidah get those X-wings back and complete the mission.”
Silence on the other end, and Shriv felt a spark of frustration ignite. “Follow an order, Agoyo!” he shouted. “Get out of here.”
After a moment, Pacer answered. “Copy that. Dross Two and Dross Three away.”
Shriv grinned. “Dross Leader, copy.”
Another explosion, this one practically beneath him, and he realized the tilting platform must be moving him closer to the First Order cannon. The view outside his cockpit was also slanting increasingly toward rows of metal-grinding teeth, and the weight of the extra ship in tow at his back left him unsure if the T-70 would respond in time to get him clear. He’d waited too long, and now he was stuck. The only way out would be attempting a tricky sweeping maneuver down into the Ibdis Maw to avoid the cannon; if he tried a vertical takeoff, he’d do it directly into the line of fire. Slathering pit beast or First Order cannon? This scenario was feeling a little too familiar, but just like before, Shriv promptly decided he’d rather take his chances with the cannon. He flipped on the forward deflector shields, engaged the X-wing’s thrusters, and said a prayer to whoever or whatever might be listening.
As he rose, the world around him exploded. The ship rattled violently. His already injured head slammed against the transparisteel, and for a moment he saw stars. The shield indicator light blinked and then dimmed, and the engine whined under the stress of the slow lift. He gave it more power, but the ship didn’t respond. He needed an astromech to fix the shields, to boost the thrusters, but it was only him. He was all out of options, and he’d made a terrible mistake. The shield light went dark. Shields dead. “Shoulda went with the pit beast,” he muttered. He braced for the impact of cannon fire.
More explosions, but these were in the distance. A shadow fell over the cockpit and he looked up. The transport vessel they’d taken to Bracca hovered above him, blanketing the train station populated with First Order troops with fire. He laughed. The transport didn’t have much of a weapons system. It was only meant for limited defense against pirates and the like, but it was enough to decimate the train platform and the stormtrooper cannon.
“Zay!” he shouted into the comm. “Where did you come from?”
“You’re all over the newsfeeds. Rogue guilders stealing ships. Guild’s denying that you’re one of them, but the First Order swears! You’ve started a galactic incident!”
“Great!”
The transport pulled away, and Shriv cleared the platform. “Where are the others?”
“They’re away. I came back to check on you. Good thing I did.”
“Sure is,” he said, giddy with relief.
They passed through the thick atmosphere and above it, and Shriv had never been so happy to see the black of space. He spared a thought for Sanrec Stronghammer, like he said he would.
“Back to Ryloth?” Zay asked.
“You said it, space baby.”
And this time, she laughed.
CHAOS SWIRLED AROUND POE, a surreal overload of the senses as party guests panicked and ran for their lives. The crash of crystal cups and the shatter of fine furniture filled the air. Despite the edict against weapons, someone—several someones by the sound of it—must have sneaked a blaster in because soon the air was filled with laserfire, overturned tables, and chairs turned into makeshift shelters, as the people fought back.
The invading First Order had left open the grand doors and a wind straight off the sea swept through the building, slicking the white stone floors and leaving the salt and sea so thick in the air Poe could almost taste it under the acrid burn of smoke. All of it accompanied by the continuous sound of blasterfire and the strange illlusions of swimming fish and sea creatures. The scene was a nightmare mix of the surreal and the all-too-real, as people died on both sides.
Over it all, the skeletal First Order officer yelled for calm, but the damage had been done. No one was listening.
Poe took the opportunity to move through the room, keeping low, Finn at his side.
“We need to find Suralinda and Charth,” he said over his shoulder.
“We need to find a couple of blasters,” Finn countered.
“Both,” Poe said. “Both would be good.”
“Look!”
Poe followed Finn’s directive and there, behind the artificial rocks of a waterfall, was Suralinda, returning fire with a fallen stormtrooper’s rifle. They wound their way over to her, ducking behind columns and avoiding the frightened crowd.
“Where’s Charth?” Poe asked as he reached her side, breathing hard.
Suralinda glanced his way, and they all ducked as another blaster shot shattered the rocks just above her head.
“He went for the ship. What happened?”
“They must have found out about the auction.” He gestured toward her blaster with his chin. “Don’t suppose you have another one of those?”
She smiled, showing fangs. “Go get your own. I did.”
“A little help, then?”
She leaned out, taking her time to aim despite incoming fire, and took down the stormtrooper closest to her. Finn darted forward to retrieve his weapon, Suralinda giving cover fire. He grabbed the blaster and ran to a large column a dozen meters away.
“Good?” she asked.
“We can’t leave yet,” Poe said. “We’ve got to get that list.”
Suralinda frowned. “The list is lost,” she said. “We’ve got to get out of here alive.”
Suddenly the lights went out, plunging the room into darkness.
“What now?” Poe muttered. Small floor illuminators blinked on around the room, offering just enough light to avoid tripping over his own feet, but not enough to see who was coming for them.
“At least that damn ocean holo is off,” Suralinda said.
She was right. For the first time since they’d arrived, the oversized room was devoid of its strange artificial underwaterscape.
Something caught his eye, a glimpse of glowing white hurrying up a flight of stairs behind Finn. It was Nifera Shu, still alive and likely running for her life. Her white shell dress glowed even in the darkness. And something else glowed, too. The serpent around her neck.
Of course.
“You and Finn find Charth and get to the ship,” Poe said, an idea forming in his mind.
“What? Where will you be?”
“I’m going to get that list.”
* * *
—
He caught up to Nifera Shu on the edge of a second-story balcony, frantically trying to reach someone with the comlink in her hand.
“Nifera!” he shouted.
She spun to face him, panic widening her eyes. The albino eel slithered around her neck, looking as distressed as its mistress. Poe eyed it warily.
“They killed my husband,” she whispered breathlessly. “They murdered Hasadar in front of me. In front of everyone.”
“I know,” Poe said. He’d spread his arms wide to show he wasn’t armed, that he meant her no harm. “Because of the list.” He glanced at the eel. He could see now that the creature had the stubs of tiny antlerlike horns protruding from its head. It was so similar to the creature that he had seen open the auction holo that it couldn’t be a coincidence. “Because of the Collective.”
Something in her face crumbled. “Because of me,” she said, her voice a low wail.
“And they’re coming for you,” he said. As if to reinforce his words, something below them in the main room collapsed, powerful enough to shake the balcony they stood on. Poe crashed shoulder-first into the wall. Nifera gripped the railing to keep herself from falling.
“I’ve got to get out of here,” she said. She lifted her comlink again, pressing the buttons. Nothing happened.
“They’ve blocked your signal,” Poe said, taking an educated guess.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I dropped it when they shot…” Her whole body heaved. “I-I think it’s broken.”
“And the list?” he asked, heart pounding.
She touched her hand to the head of the horned serpent. “Here.” She lifted the creature’s head and pressed gently on either side of its jaws. It obediently opened its mouth. Poe could see a tiny datachip resting on its tongue.
“I can get you out of here,” he said. “We’ve got a ship.”
“The Resistance?” she asked knowingly. “That is who you’re with, Lorell?”
He nodded. No reason to hide it now.
“And what will it cost me?”
He thrust his chin in the direction of the serpent.
She seemed to hesitate.
Footsteps sounded on the steps behind them, and Nifera’s face paled at whatever she saw behind his shoulder.
“Now or never,” Poe said urgently, eyes focused on Nifera, back itching from not looking behind him. “Give that list to the Resistance or take your chances with the First Order. Do we have a deal?”
She nodded sharply. “Deal.”
“Great.” Poe reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her to the edge of the balcony. Twenty meters below them was a dark pool of water, one of those that graced the ornamental gardens they had passed through on their way to the party.
“How deep is that water?” he asked.
“I-I have no idea.”
He climbed over the railing, and helped her follow, awkward in her shell dress. “Let’s find out,” he said.
And they jumped.
* * *
—
They hit the water together.
The cold enveloped him immediately, water rushing in to soak his limbs through his clothes and surge over his head. He felt Nifera’s hand start to slip from his, the weight of her dress dragging her down, and he tightened his grip, pulling her closer. He fought to keep his mouth closed, to hold his breath until he could get his bearings. He looked around frantically, his world an undulation of dark salty waters punctuated by blue beams of light.
It was the light that helped him orient. The lamps were at the bottom of the pool, which meant down. Which meant swimming away from them was up.
So he kicked up, dragging Nifera with him.
Finally, his head broke the surface and he gasped, gulping in air as fast as he could.
Rough hands reached into the icy water, dragging him to dry land by the back of his jacket. He looked up, half expecting to see First Order troops, but it was Finn, a wide grin of relief on his face.“I can’t believe you jumped,” he said, laughing.
Next to Poe, Suralinda pulled Nifera to the sloping green shore.
“Your necklace!” Poe said, alarmed. She’d lost the eel creature somewhere in the water.
Calmly, the woman dipped a hand in the water and seconds later the serpent was slithering up her arm, all the way to its safe place around her neck.
“Cute trick,” Suralinda observed.
“A better trick would be to tell me we have a way out of here,” Poe said as Finn pulled him to his feet. “Where’s Charth?”
“Headed back to us,” Suralinda answered. “No luck on the ship. It’s locked down tight, the whole landing dock surrounded by stormtroopers.”
“I thought you were going to get me out of here, Lorell,” Nifera complained.
“I am. We are. We just…need to think of another plan.”
“Well, I suggest we do it quick,” Suralinda said. “I figure we only have a few minutes before we’ve got our own contingent of troopers to deal with.”
She was right. They were too exposed here. There were shadows in the garden, trees with arching canopies and shrubbery two meters high that would help hide them, but once the chaos inside was controlled, the First Order would be sweeping the grounds. Sooner if they realized that Nifera had escaped.
“What about Wedge?” Finn said.
Poe turned. “Go on.”
“He’s here, right? And he’s got a ship. We get to him, we got a ship, too.”
“Brilliant,” Poe said, meaning it. “Now all we need to know is where he is.”
“I’ll hail Connix back on Ryloth,” Suralinda offered. “Maybe she can pinpoint Wedge’s position.”
She turned away, comlink in hand, and Poe could hear her talking, relaying their situation.
“What’s going on?” Nifera asked, warily. She narrowed eyes at them. “Who is Wedge? And who are you…really?”
Finn stepped up. “We’re with the Resistance, ma’am. And we’re here to help.”
The woman frowned, a hand going to her pet at her throat. “Lorell said as much on the balcony, and you with your starbird pin. But if you think I’m one of you, you’re mistaken. The Collective doesn’t support any government.”
“We’re not a government,” Poe countered. “We’re more like…” his gaze traveled to Suralinda who was still engrossed in her conversation, “…a rag-tag group of heroes.”
Nifera pursed dubious lips. “Heroes? I suppose that remains to be seen.”
“Okay,” Suralinda said, cutting the transmission as she turned back to face them. “I’ve got coordinates on Wedge’s team, but we need to hurry. They’re on the move.”
“And Charth?” Poe asked.
“He’ll meet us on the way.”
“Where are we heading?”
“Corellian Engineering Corporation.”
“You know the direction?”
“I do,” Nifera offered.
“Then let’s go.”
They all followed Nifera across the garden, staying close to the shadowy greenery. Suralinda lingered behind, touching Poe on the arm to get his attention.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“I didn’t want to say more in front of Nifera, but there’s trouble on Ryloth,” she said, voice l
ow.
“What kind of trouble?” he asked, concerned. “Is Leia okay?”
“Connix didn’t go into detail,” she said, “but she said they are evacuating.”
“We’ve got to get back.”
“And we will. We’re trying. We need a ship for that. So we stick to the plan, get off this planet, and go rescue our people.”
There wasn’t much else they could do. A surge of helplessness rattled through him. He should be there to protect Leia, to help his friends on Ryloth. But he couldn’t be everywhere. Right now he was here, and he had to complete this mission. Ryloth or no Ryloth, Leia needed that list.
Poe quickened his pace, scared that failure even now dogged his steps. But he wouldn’t let Leia down again. He would not fail. He would get this right, even if it killed him.
WINSHUR DRAGGED AS FAR behind Colonel Genial as he dared. They had climbed considerably, up far enough that if he looked back the way they had come, he could see the government and business districts shrinking behind them. Why hadn’t they taken a transport to come this far? Maybe Genial thought the walk would be good for them. Maybe he hated public transportation, or maybe there were no transports available at this time of the night. Maybe walking simply gave him more time to berate Winshur.
The man had kept up a constant censure as they made their way through the streets of Coronet City to the wealthy district where Hasadar Shu lived. At first, Winshur had flinched every time Genial spit another insult at him. His words had cut bitter lines of shame across Winshur’s conscience as if they had been physical blows, and Winshur was back in religious school all over again, degraded and deserving of his degradation.
Winshur felt spent. Undone. And here he was marching willingly to his inevitable end on the weak promise of a merciful death from a man he did not trust to have any mercy in him.
But after the fifteenth biting remark about Winshur’s traitorous ways, something snapped. He began to see the lie in it. He was not a traitor to the First Order. He could not be. He loved everything it stood for. He had given everything of himself to the cause, upheld its values and beliefs.
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