by Rae Carson
“Two mounted cannons are pointed at us,” Qi’ra said.
Tsuulo yelled something, and Han yelled back, “Good thinking, pal. Okay, hold on.”
Han swerved from the thoroughfare and onto one of the lawns, aiming for a stand of trees. Turret fire clamored in their wake, slinging up chunks of sod.
“We’re almost there,” Han hollered.
Something growled, sending shivers up her back, and she turned again. It was the Wookiee, thrashing in his seat. He was waking up.
Han swept from side to side, wrenching Qi’ra’s neck but making them a tougher target. Gunfire erupted all around them. A sickening ping!-crunch sounded. The back end of the speeder scooted sideways several meters, nearly sending them into a tailspin, but Han righted them and accelerated toward the trees.
“We’ve been hit,” Qi’ra said, trying to assess the damage. The Wookiee groaned, but Qi’ra breathed relief when she didn’t see an injury. The speeder was another matter. The right rear fender was a mess of warped metal. Dark liquid like syrup leaked from an exposed pipe. “I think we’re leaking fuel.”
They reached the copse of trees, and Han steered the speeder in and out of tree trunks as if he’d been doing it his whole life and not just a few days. The blast cannons went quiet. The lull was only temporary, Qi’ra knew. As soon as they were clear of foliage, it would start up all over again.
Tsuulo pointed to a structure ahead. The trees parted to reveal a large pool cabana, open on two sides, with a sparkling blue pool beyond. Han aimed right for it.
Fire erupted around them again. Han flew them straight into the cabana and out the other side. The ship dropped down, nearly on top of them.
Han plunged toward the pool, and they skimmed over the water. The air they displaced kicked up a huge wake, flooding the craft on their tail.
The patrol craft hung back to get its bearings, and Han sped for another copse of trees. “Almost there!” he said again.
Another estate opened up before them, even vaster than the last, with rolling hills, an artificial lake, and a huge curving ramp that led to a landing pad high on the rooftop.
Tsuulo pointed, jabbering excitedly. They had arrived.
But there was no shuttle in sight.
Something heavy flopped onto Qi’ra’s shoulder, making her jump in her seat and making Tsuulo squeal. It was the Wookiee, flailing awake.
“Hurry, Han!” she said.
“I don’t see a shuttle!” he shouted. “Do you see a shuttle? It’s supposed to meet us on that landing pad.”
“Just the patrol craft, already catching up,” Qi’ra said.
“Should I head up there?” Han asked. “Even though we don’t see the shuttle?”
Qi’ra had no idea what to do. Police speeders and fake uniforms and starships and fancy estates were all so outside her range of experience. Maybe Han could give her just a little more time with his fancy piloting, and she could come up with a plan and…Oh, screw it.
“Han, I’ve got nothing. What do your instincts say?”
He grinned—that cocky, smug grin she was maybe starting to like a little—and said, “We should go for it. I’m feeling lucky!” And he aimed for the curving ramp that would take them to the top of the mansion.
The patrol craft was nearly on them again. Han sped around and gained the top. The view from up here was beautiful; in any other circumstance, Qi’ra would have stopped to drink it in. Instead, she leaped from the speeder yelling, “Help me with this giant hairy thing!”
Han and Tsuulo jumped out and grabbed for the Wookiee, who flailed back at them. “Careful, he’s waking up!” Han yelled.
The patrol craft swooped toward them. But behind, barely a mote on the horizon, was another craft.
“I think I see the shuttle,” Qi’ra said. They managed to get a grip on the Wookiee and drag him to the ground. “Over here,” she ordered, “behind the speeder. We’ll take cover until the shuttle gets here.” Which had better be soon. It would be no trouble at all for the patrol craft to readjust its position and come up behind them.
Something sharp assaulted her nose. Chemical fumes, all around them. Rising up from the growing puddle caused by the speeder’s fuel leak.
Qi’ra realized she had made a terrible mistake.
“Back!” she screamed. “Get back! Away from the speeder. It might blow.”
They hustled backward, the Wookiee’s heels dragging on the ground. Qi’ra had no idea what kind of ordnance the patrol craft had been firing at them, but laser blasts would ignite that fuel easily.
They made it all the way to the edge of the landing pad. Now they had no cover, and there was nowhere to go.
The patrol craft hovered before them. A ramp dropped, and stormtroopers poured out, blasters in hand.
Tsuulo prayed, harder and faster than Qi’ra had heard yet.
The second craft, which had to be the Engineer’s shuttle, zoomed out of the sky, swooping over the patrol ship, spinning one hundred eighty degrees to show them its rear, and touching down a hair’s breadth from their huddled forms. Blaster fire thundered, but the shuttle took it all, protecting the three of them and their drugged Wookiee. The shuttle had a forward deflector shield, Qi’ra realized. A really good deflector shield.
A ramp dropped down, and a man with cropped black hair and narrow black eyes beckoned. “Hurry!” he said.
He didn’t need to say it twice. The three of them lifted the Wookiee and stumbled up the ramp into a narrow cargo area. The ramp closed behind them.
The black-eyed man helped them lower the Wookiee into one of the jump seats and strap him in. “Buckle up,” he ordered. “We’re leaving hot.”
Qi’ra had no idea what “leaving hot” meant, but she buckled up as fast as her fingers would allow.
The shuttle was small, built for only eight passengers—fewer if one of those passengers was a Wookiee. Ahead of them was a cockpit with two pilot seats, facing a large viewing window. Stormtroopers continued to fire at them. The patrol craft still hovered above the landing pad, and its cannon turrets were rotating to give the shuttle a direct hit.
Their bright-green speeder reflected sunlight and laser bolts as it lay bleeding on the landing pad. Qi’ra’s chest twinged with something unfamiliar. It was as if she liked that speeder, as if she was sad to leave it behind.
A stray blast hit the speeder, tipping it violently. Seconds later, it erupted into a massive fireball, filling the viewing window with roiling flames.
Tsuulo let out a strange keening sound that made the hair on Qi’ra’s arms stand straight up. His snout trembled for a moment, then he turned his head to the side, refusing to look at the smoking scrap heap that was his brother’s speeder.
Then the shuttle’s thrusters kicked in, so hard and fast that they overcame the acceleration compensators, and Qi’ra’s rear pressed tight into her seat, the belt digging at her waist.
The estates fell away beneath them, growing smaller and smaller. The world widened to reveal all of Coronet City, with its industrial islands and muddy waterways, all cozied up to a vast ocean. Corellia itself became an immeasurable curved horizon, and then a vast bluish orb clothed in rusty clouds, and finally, a distant mote of white in an expanse of empty blackness.
It was like a punch to Han’s gut, watching Reezo’s speeder blow to smithereens. But as their shuttle left the planet’s atmosphere, regret gave way to breathtaking wonder.
Han was in space. He could hardly believe it.
He’d always thought it would be dark and black. Instead it was as bright as day, and he could see everything from the hull of the shuttle to Qi’ra’s face to Corellia’s nearest moon in bright relief and perfect detail.
The planet grew distant, becoming a tiny shining dot. Unlike the planet, the sun Corell didn’t seem any smaller from here, just whiter. Maybe brighter.
Space, it turned out, was huge. A man could have a lot of room all to himself out here.
The shuttle drifted into a turn,
aiming for the edge of the solar system. Han watched the pilot closely, watched how his hands danced over the controls—so many of them! Piloting a starship was completely different from piloting a speeder, apparently. You had to think in three dimensions. Even though the ship itself had artificial gravity, out in the black of space, there was nothing to tell you which way was “down.”
The proximity sensor pinged.
“What was that?” Qi’ra said.
“We’ve got Imperials on our tail,” said the pilot. “They followed us from Corellia.”
The shuttle shook with an impact.
“They’re firing on us!” Tsuulo said.
“Preparing to jump to hyperspace,” said the copilot.
Han’s heart was a drum in his chest. He was finally going to see hyperspace.
A second impact wrenched his neck. It would have thrown Han across the shuttle if not for the harness of his jump seat.
“In three,” the pilot said, “two, one.” He pulled back on a lever.
Han felt a lurch in his belly, as if he’d just fallen. His ears popped, and the stars suddenly stretched into bright lines of light.
He could hardly breathe. It was like they were traveling through a tunnel of light, and it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life.
It was over in mere seconds. The ship dropped back into real space, and though the shuttle’s compensators made the transition as smooth as Corellian brandy, he felt the change in his very bones.
The pilot twisted in his seat to check on his passengers. “Everyone all right back there?”
Actually, Han thought he might be sick.
“You’re looking a little green, kid. First time in hyperspace?”
Han nodded, not trusting himself to open his mouth.
“You get used to it,” the pilot assured him.
The Wookiee whined, something about “wet” or maybe “water.”
“Didn’t think we’d see you again, Roo,” the pilot said to the Wookiee. “Glad to have you back. Though I have no idea what you’re saying.”
“I think he’s thirsty,” Han choked out through his nausea. He turned in his seat to find the Wookiee nodding vigorously.
“We’re almost there,” the pilot said.
“Thirst is probably a side effect of that gas,” whispered Qi’ra. “At least he’s not attacking us.” Then her eyes narrowed. “What are you staring at?”
He was staring at her, and her chin-length brown hair, and her eyes that seemed to change color with her mood. He said, “It just occurred to me…we’re alive! I mean, I really thought we were done for back there.”
“We’re not out of this yet,” Tsuulo pointed out, just as Qi’ra said, “The Engineer will probably kill us as soon as she gets the datacube.”
Han glared. “I’m surrounded by pessimists.”
“Hey, isn’t that the sun?” Qi’ra said, pointing. “I thought lightspeed would take us far away from Corellia.”
“It was just a feint,” the pilot explained. “To lose our pursuers. We’re heading for that asteroid cluster. The Engineer’s ship is hiding there.”
“You can do that?” Han said. “Exit hyperspace close to where you entered?”
“Well,” the pilot said, grinning, “not everyone can do it. And truth be told, we’re not that close; we traveled all the way across the system. We still covered a distance that would have taken days to travel at sublight speed.”
“So you’re a good pilot,” Han said.
“Kid, I’m one of the best.”
The Wookiee growled.
“Not as good as Kirroo back there,” the pilot amended hastily. “Roo might be the best pilot I’ve ever met. The Engineer is going to be really glad to get him back.”
The asteroid cluster he’d pointed to seemed like a jumble of whitish-gray pebbles floating in space, but as they neared, Han revised his assessment. The asteroids were huge, easily able to hide a starship. If you could somehow mash them together, you’d end up with a small moon.
The shuttle veered close to one of them, so close that Han could see its porous surface, along with several impact craters. It was the largest, vaguely round, and the shuttle rumbled a little, compensating for the asteroid’s light gravitational pull. The other asteroids nearby were irregular; one was even jagged, like a chunk of it had recently been sheared away.
“Tsuulo, you’ve been in space before, right?” Qi’ra said.
The Rodian nodded. “I was really young when we left Coruscant, but I still remember everything about that trip.”
Han translated, and Qi’ra added, “Yeah, I’m not going to forget this as long as I live.”
“Which might not be very long,” Tsuulo added cheerfully.
The shuttle swung around the asteroid, and a starship appeared before them. Han and Qi’ra gasped.
It was shiny and sleek, with curved lines and a reflective hull—totally different from the messy, irregularly shaped Corellian ships he’d seen his whole life. Several levels of viewing decks shone with artificial light. Bright red glittered along the edges of glowing blue drive units. The red was an aesthetic choice, Han realized. Like Reezo’s holo-flames attachment.
“That’s…beautiful,” Qi’ra breathed.
“That’s the Red Nimbus, an AC-Seventy-Five-P yacht liner,” the pilot said. “A luxury cruiser manufactured on Nubia.”
Han had heard of yachts, pleasure barges with every possible amenity, used by the galaxy’s richest citizens. He never dreamed he’d lay eyes on one like this, much less board it.
Though, looking at the Red Nimbus through the viewport, he couldn’t help thinking that it wasn’t for him. Those red lights, the shimmering hull, the overwrought name—it all spoke to form over function. His friend Bee at the garage would have hated it. Han himself would take a messy, jumbled, fast Corellian cruiser over a luxury yacht any day.
Qi’ra obviously didn’t share his opinion, though. She stared at the massive yacht, mouth agape, her heart in her eyes.
The pilot aimed directly for the side of the yacht. A small docking port jutted out of it. The pilot’s and copilot’s hands flew over the console, making adjustments as the shuttle slowed, pivoted, and backed into the port. It was going to be a perfect fit, like an identichip clicking into a reader slot.
The shuttle lurched, and a hollow metal sound echoed through Han’s chest. The docking clamps had engaged.
“You can unclasp your belts now,” the pilot said.
The back of the shuttle opened; the ramp lowered and hit with a thud. Light nearly blinded them.
The Wookiee was out of his seat and down the ramp faster than Han could blink. Several figures in white uniforms waited for them, standing in a small cargo bay. The Wookiee rushed over to them and gave each one a massive hug. One young man in particular was lifted from his feet, and he grinned widely, patting the Wookiee on his hairy back. “Good to see you, Roo!” he said.
Han, Tsuulo, and Qi’ra followed the Wookiee more slowly, the pilot at their heels. “That’s the servant staff,” the pilot explained. His expression saddened. “We already lost two of our own, cut down by Kaldana during the auction. So we’re very glad to have our friend back.”
“What now?” Han asked. The cargo bay contained a small freight lift for hauling supplies. The lift rose to a second level with a glass-encased booth perfect for overseeing the cargo bay, and—Han was willing to bet—sealed well enough that the bay could be vented in a pinch.
“I have to run a maintenance check on my shuttle,” the pilot said. “Standard procedure after taking fire. That’s the Engineer’s personal assistant there. He’ll take you to see her.”
“Thank you,” Qi’ra said, reaching for his hand and shaking it. “For getting us off Corellia. You saved our lives.”
“Yeah, thanks, pal,” Han echoed. “We owe you one.”
The personal assistant was a small, balding man with a very round belly that overhung the waist of his pants. “This way
,” he said. “My mistress is anxious to meet you all.”
They followed him up the lift, through the glass booth, and past a galley busy with three chefs. Something smelled amazing—warm and meaty and gently spiced. Han’s stomach growled in response.
“I’m so hungry,” Tsuulo whispered. “It feels like my stomach is eating itself.”
Han knew the feeling.
After the galley, they passed through a corridor with lush red carpeting, limned with red floor lights. Paintings hung on the walls at regular intervals. Maybe they were fine art, worth millions of credits each. If so, what a waste.
The corridor ended with a short stair, which took them to an elegant viewing deck. A fully stocked bar stretched along one wall. Beside it was furniture for lounging—a divan, a long couch, several reclining swivel chairs—all oriented to take best advantage of the glorious view.
Because the entire opposite wall was a viewport that looked right into the heart of star-studded space. A whole wall. Made of space-worthy glass.
Han couldn’t imagine how expensive that was. Or why it was even necessary. If this ship were his, he’d be spending all his time in the cockpit anyway. The only viewport he’d ever need was the one in there.
Standing before the giant viewport was a tall, slender woman. Her back was to them, and she wore a gauzy silver gown with a low back that exposed smooth dark skin. Her dense black hair gave her an extra half meter of height; it was wound high on the top of her head, held in place by a silver scarf, the end of which drifted down her long neck. She held a wine glass in her left hand.
“You have a plan for this part, right?” Han whispered to Qi’ra.
Qi’ra shook her head and mouthed no.
“Dear Force, please help,” Tsuulo muttered. “Don’t let this lady kill us.”
The lady in question turned and stared at the three of them. After a moment, her lips turned up into a smile—as choreographed and careful a smile as Han had ever seen.
She was extraordinarily beautiful, with full lips set off by a strong jaw and wide brown eyes that turned up slightly at the corners. Dollops of white makeup were painted on her cheeks in the shape of teardrops, a sharp contrast to her dark skin. The only thing giving away the fact that she was not human was her nose; it lay nearly flat against her face, and her nostrils were slit-like, almost Grindalid in nature.