by Rae Carson
Kaldana poured around the corner. The first one dropped to his knee and aimed his blaster.
Qi’ra dove for the escape pod. Her legs tangled in the cable. She tripped, lurching forward. Her temple banged against the side of the door, and she crumpled into a heap.
Blaster fire erupted where her head had just been.
She no longer knew up from down. Red tunneled her vision, and the side of her head throbbed. It hurt too much to even think. All she knew was that Han was inside the pod and she was outside and the Kaldana were right on top of them.
This was what it felt like to die. She reached feebly for the access panel. If she could jettison the pod, at least Han would get away. But she couldn’t find it. He’d probably jettisoned already. Left her behind. It’s what she would have done.
Qi’ra was alone. Totally, completely alone.
She closed her eyes, gathering strength. She’d get to her feet somehow. She’d go down fighting. She’d—
Hands grasped for her. Blaster fire sizzled the air. She felt herself being lifted, dragged over the lip of the doorway. Air hit her face as the hatch slammed shut.
“No time to buckle in,” came a familiar voice. A voice she liked. “So stay flat on the floor. Try to hold on to one of the chairs. This might hurt.”
Vaguely, through cloudy vision, she saw a fist hammer down on the eject button.
The ship expelled them with bone-numbing force. Her body slid across the floor and crashed into the wall. Then they were spinning, spinning, spinning. Her shoulder hit the ceiling, and her thigh smashed into a jump seat, and she knew, even with concussed thoughts, that one more bad blow would truly be her death.
And suddenly, arms were around her, cradling her, protecting her, and though she was still pummeled, the blows were softened. Survivable.
The escape pod leveled out as the maneuvering jets kicked in. Instead of being thrown around like rag dolls, they were floating through space, lighter than clouds in the wind.
“This pod doesn’t have grav, so we’ll have to strap ourselves in,” Han said.
Han. He’d come back for her.
Strong arms used handholds and the edges of a jump seat to guide them into place. He pushed her toward the seat, grabbed the straps, and gently, patiently belted her in.
He did the same for himself, settling in beside her. There was blood on his forehead. And his upper arm. She blinked, trying to clear her vision and assess the damage.
“Qi’ra? You okay?”
“You’re bleeding.”
“It’s fine. You hit your head pretty bad back there, huh? Maybe you should—”
“I think I’m going to pass out now,” she mumbled.
And that’s what she did.
When she came to, she knew for certain she wasn’t dead, because she had the absolute worst headache of her life.
“Qi’ra? Qi’ra! Holy moons, what a relief.” Hands grabbed her chin, turned her head. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Han, get your hand out of my face.”
He dropped his hand, but he was grinning so huge it practically split his dumb face. “I thought, I mean I was worried that…” His grin disappeared. “After Tsuulo, I couldn’t lose…”
“You came back for me. You didn’t leave me behind.”
Han gave her a strange look. As though she’d just said something ridiculous like “Wookiees have wings.”
“Of course I came back for you,” he said. “Qi’ra, you’re my friend. I would never leave you.”
His words gutted her. No one had ever done that for her. Ever. Everyone, given the right circumstances, had chosen to betray her, to leave her behind. But not Han. He’d come back. At risk to his own life.
She hardly knew what she was doing as she reached for his hand. His fingers entwined with hers and held tight. “Thank you,” she said.
“I’m just…” His expression grew agonized, and he whispered, “I wish Tsuulo…He was right there, Qi’ra. And suddenly, he wasn’t.”
“Me too.” For a brief moment back on the Kaldana ship, Qi’ra had entertained the notion that when this was all over and she was safely back on Corellia, she’d have two people in all the world she could consider true friends. Now there was only Han.
“Did you mean what you said?” he asked.
“About what?”
“To Tsuulo. About the Force being real.”
“No. I don’t know. It just seemed like the right thing to say.”
He sighed. “I figured. It was all just a bunch of mumbo jumbo.”
“If it brought him comfort in the end, I guess that’s something, right?”
“Sure. I guess.”
Qi’ra would not cry. She would not. “I’m really going to miss him,” she managed.
“Yeah, me too.”
Before them was a small viewport. The pod’s jets were guiding them wide of the moon, and Corellia was already in sight. It was beautiful from here, perfect blue with swirling white clouds. In the southern hemisphere, where the clouds weren’t so dense, a city complex spread wide like a silver bug with multiple legs, hugging the continent.
“Is that Coronet City?” Qi’ra asked.
“I have no idea. Maybe.”
“You think the Kaldana ship will come after us?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Their ship wasn’t exactly maneuverable. They might decide we’re not worth the trouble.”
Qi’ra leaned back into her jump seat and closed her eyes. The banging in her head was awful. And with maneuvering jets only, their ride to Corellia could take hours. Maybe a day.
She almost jumped when Han spoke again. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why did you turn down Jenra’s offer?”
“It’s hard to explain.”
“I was sure you’d take it. I mean, you’re so practical. That job would have given you food and nice things and—”
“You’re a bad influence.”
“Huh?”
“I turned her down because of you, okay? Happy now? I’ve been running around with you too much. I didn’t like the way she looked at me…the way she looked at that Wookiee, talked about him like he was just a thing….It gave me a bad feeling. So I trusted my gut. Just this once.”
Han threw his head back and laughed.
“Shut up,” she said, trying to glare and failing. “Hey, I happen to believe you can tell a lot about someone by the way they look at you. Lady Proxima, for example.”
Han sobered and said, “Like you’re a tasty piece of meat.”
“Exactly.”
“What about me?” he asked, his brown eyes suddenly intense, that cocky grin curving his lips. She didn’t hate it anymore. She quite liked it, actually. Han had the face of a true friend. “How do I look at you?”
Qi’ra blinked. “Like you’re trying your best to annoy me.”
He shrugged. “Well, I can’t deny that.”
They were still holding hands, and neither seemed ready to let go. The fact that she could hold someone’s hand without wanting to wrench away, without feeling as though she was giving too much of herself, gave her the courage to say, “Han, I don’t want to be a White Worm anymore.”
“Me neither,” he said. “But it’s what we’ve got. It’s always been better than some—most? all?—of the alternatives.”
“Or being in the Silo.”
“Or that. I know what you mean, though,” Han said. “The galaxy is a wide-open place. Bigger and more amazing than I ever imagined. It’s going to be hard to go back down there, where everything is small and dirty and dark. Seems like there’s a lot more to life than that. Or there ought to be, anyway.”
She squeezed his hand. “I liked being up here. I liked being part of a high-stakes game. Making things happen. It was terrifying. But it was…fun.”
“You like being a player.”
“Yeah, maybe. Seems to me that being a player is the best way to survive. Having money. Influence.
That’s what keeps you flying.”
Han shook his head. “What keeps you flying is having one person in all the galaxy to fly with. Someone you can trust to have your back. I mean, we wouldn’t have survived any of this without each other.”
“And Tsuulo.”
“Yeah.” A muscle in his neck moved. “I just wish we could have…gotten”—he swallowed hard—“his body. Brought it back to his brother or something.”
They were silent a moment, considering. Then Qi’ra brightened with a thought. “Han, let’s escape.”
“Huh? Escape from the escape pod?”
“No, I mean from Lady Proxima and the White Worms. Somehow. We’re smart. If we make it back to the planet, I say we figure something out. It might take some time, but—”
“I’m in.” He was grinning again. “I’m totally in. In fact, let’s leave Corellia altogether. I’m sure if we keep our eyes open for a good opportunity—”
“Han, no! You have to let me plan this.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure.”
She glared at him, but she felt herself lighting up inside. They were going to get away. Leave the White Worms behind forever. Somehow.
“Wait,” Han said, pointing out the viewport. His shoulders slumped in despair.
A metallic monstrosity was sliding into view, ungainly with attachments, scarred by battle. Two huge turrets at the fore pivoted toward them.
“Oh, hells,” Qi’ra said as all the joy she’d briefly allowed herself evaporated. “Those guys don’t give up.” Well, that would teach her to embrace any kind of hope. Just when she thought they would actually make it back alive, here came the Kaldana to blow them to smithereens.
Han’s face was despondent. “This pod…it only has maneuvering jets. I guess I could make some small adjustments, but…” The hopelessness in his voice went straight to Qi’ra’s heart.
“But we can’t dodge torpedoes.”
“Not without thrusters.”
“So this is it, then.”
“Qi’ra, I’m sorry.” They were still holding hands. He turned his face to her and gazed deeply, as if memorizing her features.
“It’s not your fault. It just is.” Qi’ra reached up with her free hand and brushed her fingers along his cheek. Then she smiled.
“What’s so funny?” he barked angrily.
“The burn on your face. It’s finally peeling.”
“Oh. Yeah.” He reached up and scratched. “It’s been itchy.” Then he sighed dramatically. “At least I’ll die with my good looks returning.”
“I’m so relieved for you.”
“Qi’ra, I’m glad I’m not alone right now.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Light poured into their escape pod, drenching Han’s face in purest white. It seared Qi’ra’s eyes, sending tears streaming down her face.
Against her better judgment, she turned toward the viewport, expecting to see a torpedo exploding against their hull. If she was going to die here, she would do it with her eyes wide open, just like Tsuulo.
But instead of ordnance, she saw…nothing.
The Kaldana ship was no longer there. It had been blown to bits.
She had a split second to register a glittering wash of debris floating through space, along with the glorious realization that they were alive. Then a shock wave hit, knocking her head against her jump seat.
The flesh of her cheeks pressed against her skull as the pod flew backward into a tailspin. Her teeth ground together, and her spine felt as if it were collapsing. She wanted to tell Han to hold on, that the pod would right itself, but too much pressure on her diaphragm made it impossible to breathe.
Their spin slowed. Stopped. All the stress on Qi’ra’s bones lifted, her body becoming weightless once again. The jets reoriented, sending them back in the direction of Corellia, which the pod’s programming had identified as the nearest habitable celestial body.
After a moment spent sucking in air, Han said, “What the hell just happened?”
Qi’ra shook her head. “I don’t know. I just…” Her head was pounding, and every breath sent daggers through her neck and chest. But each pulse of pain felt like a gift. She was alive. “Maybe that junker was in even worse shape than we thought.”
Han’s expression seemed doubtful. “Maybe.”
Another ship slid into view, sleek and shimmering with reflection, a red glow lighting its undercarriage.
“The Red Nimbus!” Qi’ra said.
“The Engineer destroyed the ship,” Han said.
“Actually, I think she destroyed the entire Kaldana Syndicate.” With the loss of their flagship, and over a billion credits, only a few dregs of the pirate organization would remain.
Han whistled. “No more shield tech. No more Kaldana. The Corellian skies are safe.”
Qi’ra raised an eyebrow at him. “The Corellian skies will never be safe,” she said.
“Fair point. Though…” Han frowned, thinking hard. “That was an awful lot of people who just died.”
“Better them than us.”
The red lighting of the Nimbus flickered once, then twice. As if signaling them. Or maybe saying good-bye. Then space seemed to fold on itself for the briefest moment, and in a blink, the Nimbus was gone, disappeared into hyperspace.
“It was a brilliant double cross,” Qi’ra mused. “But I don’t see a benefit to her. Why did she do it?”
Han shrugged. “I think she liked us. Especially you. So she decided to save us.”
“Huh. Maybe.”
“You know, that was a pretty nice funeral pyre,” Han said. “For Tsuulo, I mean. Better than anything the White Worms would have done for him.”
That was a kind thought. “Maybe he’s back with the Force or whatever,” Qi’ra said.
“Well, he’s with the stars, at least.”
Qi’ra put her head back, content for her hand to remain in Han’s as Corellia loomed larger and larger before them.
Han was late—again. This time Qi’ra was with him, and they had one last stop to make before returning to the White Worm den.
“This better be worth it,” Qi’ra warned as she jogged beside him through the sewer tunnel. Their boots splashed through water and muck, and the faint blue light of morning filtered down from the street drains above. “We’re already missing breakfast. If we’re late to the meeting afterward…”
“We won’t be,” Han said. “We’ll take the shortcut through Old Man Powlo’s territory. It’ll be fine.”
“If you say so.”
Han slowed his pace for her, hoping Qi’ra wouldn’t notice. It’s not that she wasn’t right; they were definitely late, and missing the meeting would ruin all their plans. But their ride back to Corellia in the escape pod had been rough—rough enough that Qi’ra now sported a sling for her left shoulder, which had been wrenched out of socket when they hit atmo. The pod had been as ancient and derelict as the ship it ejected from, without modern compensators and cooling protocols.
Now the pod was a burned-out husk, resting a few klicks east of the freighter boneyard. Bruised and battered, they’d stumbled to Qi’ra’s safe house. The next day, they made the slow journey on foot back to the White Worm lair, where, true to her word, Lady Proxima had welcomed them home.
That had been two days before, and they were still battered and exhausted.
Now that things were back to normal, Lady Proxima announced that she’d decided who would receive the promotion of Head. She would reveal the lucky Worm at a meeting after breakfast. All candidates were instructed to be present and on time.
For their plan of escape to have any chance of succeeding, either Han or Qi’ra had to win the position.
“Here we are,” Han said. He cranked the wheel of the blast door. It squealed like a dying rat, making Qi’ra wince. Together, they stepped inside and ascended the stairs. Han couldn’t help thinking of the first time he’d climbed these stairs, when a deal had gone bad and blaster fire had nearly taken his head o
ff. Tool had saved him that day.
The droid was inside waiting for them, standing tall against the wall, two of his attachments crossed like human arms. One of them was new. A golden alloy in bright contrast to the rest of his hulking steel frame. Most notable though were the holo-flames, licking and flickering all about his carapace, making the droid appear as though he burned with soft blue fire.
“Tool!” Han said. “You look great!”
“I do, don’t I,” he intoned.
“Glad to see you, Tool,” Qi’ra said.
“And you, Qi’ra. Please sit if it will make you comfortable.” Tool made a sweeping gesture with his lathe that Han assumed was meant to be welcoming. The room had been cleaned of blood and spilled guts, the chairs and table righted, but neither moved to sit.
“We’re good,” Qi’ra said. “You said in your message you had something for us? A reward?”
Han gave her the side-eye. It wasn’t like her to rush a deal. She must really be worried about being late. But she’d agreed to come because they needed that reward, whatever it was. The first step to escaping Lady Proxima and the White Worms was acquiring resources.
“Yes, you see the Kaldana Syndicate almost got away with that shield tech, which they would have used to utterly destroy our organization.”
“I’m glad that didn’t happen, Tool,” Han said in all sincerity. “Your cause is a lot safer now.”
“Only because after we lost the bid, we back-channeled the Engineer and cut a second, secret deal.”
Qi’ra leaned forward. “Oh? What second deal? I didn’t hear anything about—”
“Do you know the meaning of ‘secret,’” Tool said.
“Tool, what was this secret deal?” Han demanded.
“We offered her three hundred thousand credits to destroy the Kaldana ship as soon as the exchange was complete.”
Han’s mouth dropped open as Qi’ra sucked in breath.
Han recovered first. “So she didn’t come back to save us,” he said.
“She blew that ship to bits for money,” Qi’ra said. “Everything’s always about money, isn’t it?”
“She declined our offer at first,” Tool told them. “She had no interest in who ended up with the technology, so long as she was paid and could escape free. She believed that staying behind a little while longer put her ship at risk.”