Most Wanted Page 14

  Han gasped.

  Slowly, her eyes not leaving the stormtrooper’s helmet, Qi’ra took the item from his hand.

  “The Engineer has been watching you,” he said. “She sends her regards, and she very much hopes you will be amenable to her message. Further, she hopes that you will not disseminate the method of the message’s delivery, not ever, not to anyone.”

  With that, the stormtroopers pulled their blasters back, turned, and disappeared into the darkness.

  “What just happened?” Han breathed.

  Qi’ra stared down at the thing in her hand. “Seems like the Engineer still has secret friends among her former employer,” she said. “It makes sense, I guess. She would never have defected without a solid plan. And that includes well-placed, loyal contacts. It’s what I’d do.”

  “What did he give you?” Tsuulo asked, pointing to her hand.

  “I think it’s a holoprojector,” she said.

  “What does it say?” Tsuulo said, at the same moment Han said, “Well, turn it on!”

  “Not yet,” she replied, glancing around. They were at the edge of the Foundry complex, out of sight of any floodlights. “Those stormtroopers worked for the Engineer, but I’m sure more are on their way. We need to get under cover.”

  For the first time, Han felt that they might have a chance of getting out of this mess alive. The Engineer had contacted them! In a way that proved she was even more powerful than they’d realized. She could help them, if she wanted to. Or she could easily have them killed. They’d just have to get on her good side. “Back to the safe house?” he said.

  “Back to the safe house,” she agreed. “I know you’re tired. Think you can handle driving the speeder back to the Bottoms?”

  “Always.”

  Qi’ra loved the freighter boneyard at night—the croaking bilgefrogs and creaking metal, the slap of wings on water, the pale moonlight against rusting hulks, the briny smell of fresh water meeting salt as the land sloped toward the ocean that she knew lay just over the horizon. More than anything, she loved the huge, ugly tree clinging stubbornly to her hill, and the way its roots had a strangling grip on the skeleton of her freighter. That tree was a survivor.

  Her tree, her hill, her freighter skeleton.

  This time, as they drove up to it in their stolen speeder, she was glad to have company. To share this place with…well, she wasn’t ready to say they were friends, exactly, but Han and Tsuulo were okay to have around in a pinch.

  “We’re going to have a frost tonight,” Han said as he parked the speeder. He blew on his hands as they all hurried inside her safe house. Qi’ra lit the lamp, noticing that the power was low. It would need a recharge soon.

  They huddled around the lamp at the table. Qi’ra pulled out the holoprojector and set it before them.

  She was about to thumb it on when she noticed Tsuulo shivering violently.

  “You okay there, pal?” Han said.

  Tsuulo blurted something, but Qi’ra only caught the word for “cold.”

  She grabbed the blanket from her cot and whipped it around his shoulders. “I wish we had more food,” she said.

  “I always wish I had more food,” Han grumbled.

  “It’s hard to keep warm when your body isn’t getting any energy,” she said, and then she wondered if she’d given too much away, approached her secrets a little too closely.

  Tsuulo chattered at them, and Qi’ra didn’t have to understand Huttese to know that his words were jumbling together. Something was wrong.

  “He’s sorry to be a bother,” Han said. “But Rodians don’t do so well with the cold apparently? Something about the Rodian homeworld being hot, I dunno, he’s not making much sense.”

  “I have a space heater,” Qi’ra said, rummaging on the top shelf. “It’s small, and it doesn’t hold a charge long, but it might warm us up for an hour or two. Enough to keep him from going into hypothermia.”

  She found the heater, placed it on the table in front of Tsuulo, and flicked it on. It glowed against Tsuulo’s face, turning his skin almost yellow. He sighed happily.

  Between the lamp and the space heater, the safe house was as bright as it had ever been. For the first time, she noticed the skin of Han’s face. It was bright red, as if he’d been standing in the sun for hours—all except for huge circles of white around his eyes where his goggles had been.

  “What are you staring at?” he said.

  “Your face,” she said. “It looks burned.”

  “Oh, that. Yeah, it feels like it’s going to crack. I got too close to the slag outtake.”

  “It’s going to peel off in a day or two,” Qi’ra said. “Unless we can find some bacta cream.”

  “At least I’ll be harder to recognize with my face peeling away.”

  “Good point,” she said, reaching for the holoprojector.

  “Wait, what’s that?” Han said, pointing to her right hand.

  She saw her fingers through his eyes. They were bruised and swollen, especially the second knuckle of her middle finger. It throbbed something awful, but she didn’t think it was broken. Besides, she’d had worse.

  Qi’ra shrugged. “From when I punched Reezo. I told you it hurt.” Next time she wanted to hit someone she’d remember to use a wrench or something instead.

  Tsuulo jabbered at them, pointing to the holoprojector.

  “Okay, okay, here we go,” Qi’ra said, thumbing it on.

  A figure popped up from the projector, limned in blue, barely taller than Qi’ra’s table lamp. A female biped. She was too tiny, and the holoprojector didn’t give them enough detail, to identify her species with certainty. Which was probably by design, Qi’ra figured. All they could tell was that she was slender, with long sweeping robes and a heavy cowl that completely covered her features. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and she bowed slightly, inclining her head just so.

  “Greetings,” she said.

  “Greetings,” Qi’ra replied. Her heart was in her throat. She was talking to an Imperial defector. Someone who was in the starry sky somewhere above them. It made her head swim.

  “I expected this first attempt at an auction to have complications,” she said. “I even expected to have to sacrifice some assets. But I did not expect my datacube to end up in the hands of three young scoundrels.”

  “Scoundrels?” Han said, appearing affronted, though Qi’ra had a funny feeling he was pleased.

  “You went to a lot of trouble and risk to contact us,” Qi’ra pointed out.

  The figure in blue waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve had eyes on the ground the whole time, of course. And a tracker in that cube. That’s another thing I didn’t expect: for my cube to end up in Corellia’s infamous freighter boneyard. Where starships go to die.”

  Tsuulo drew in breath. Han and Qi’ra exchanged an alarmed glance. The Engineer knew exactly where they were.

  Then why wasn’t she sending her pet stormtroopers after them? Why wasn’t she taking the datacube back by force?

  Qi’ra had the answer almost as soon as her mind formed the question: because it was unique. She had defected from the Empire. That meant she couldn’t leave copies behind. The datacube contained her life’s work, and she was worried they might destroy it.

  It’s why the stormtroopers at the Foundry had missed with their blasters. They didn’t want to damage the cube.

  “If you come after us,” Qi’ra said, “we’ll smash the cube to smithereens.”

  The figure nodded, “I’ve no doubt.”

  “But we don’t want to do that,” Qi’ra added hastily. “We’d rather agree to a better arrangement.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” the Engineer said. Her voice was low and husky, but it had a mechanical quality. Qi’ra didn’t know enough about holoprojectors to tell if it was merely a function of long-distance communication or if the Engineer was altering her voice on purpose.

  Qi’ra wasn’t sure what to say next, and she was a little irritated, a
little relieved when Han jumped in with, “So…should we meet up or something?”

  “What for?” the Engineer said carefully.

  She was being cautious, Qi’ra realized. She wasn’t as poised and confident as she appeared.

  Qi’ra smiled. “We want to give the cube back to you. But only you. Not an emissary. We’ve been running for our lives, you see, and I’m sure you understand how difficult trust can be in these situations.”

  Han was giving her a strange look. “You’re really good at this,” he whispered.

  “I would love to see my cube again,” the Engineer said. “I’d be happy to provide escort for you to my ship.”

  “You would?” Qi’ra said. “I mean, that’s good.”

  “On one condition,” said the Engineer.

  “There’s always a catch,” Han mumbled.

  “You must do something for me, first. To prove you’re legitimate. A tiny favor.”

  Tsuulo let his head fall to the table in despair. Even Han slumped over, saying, “A tiny favor? Yeah, I bet.”

  Qi’ra wanted to scream with frustration. They’d been through so much already. What more did she want? But another part of her acknowledged the Engineer’s sound strategy. In her place, Qi’ra would require a loyalty test too. Or at least a competency test.

  Qi’ra felt weariness in her very bones. “Just tell us what you want,” she ordered.

  “The Empire tracked me here to the Corellia system,” the Engineer explained. “I sent one of my crew members planetside to gather supplies, and CorSec recognized him and arrested him. He’s being kept in a holding cell in downtown Coronet City.”

  Tsuulo swore, and even though his voice was muffled by the blanket, the sound must have carried, because the Engineer said, “Your Rodian friend is…colorful.”

  “You want us to retrieve your crew member?” Han guessed.

  “I do.”

  “How?” Qi’ra said. “You can’t just walk into a holding area and grab a prisoner.”

  “I’ll provide uniforms and identichips that will get you through the door,” she said. “The rest will be up to you. You three have proven very resourceful so far. I think your chances of success are…acceptable.”

  That didn’t sound good at all. “What about your stormtrooper friends?” Qi’ra said. “They seemed pretty loyal to you.”

  The Engineer’s chest rose and fell with a deep, controlling breath. “I’m sure a smart girl like you understands how imperative it is to use one’s assets strategically and with circumspection.”

  Qi’ra’s eyes narrowed as she puzzled that one out. “You…can’t risk using them too often?” she guessed.

  “Exactly. They veered off patrol once already today. Several of them discharged their blasters. It will be weeks, maybe months, before I can use them again without risking their posts. And I need them to stay right where they are, safe and above suspicion.”

  Han crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “This seems like a very bad idea.”

  “If you do this for me,” the Engineer said, “I’ll arrange passage to my ship, get all three of you safely offworld.”

  Han sat up a little straighter, his eyes wide.

  “How will you deliver uniforms and identichips?” Qi’ra asked.

  “I’ll give you the coordinates for a drop location. It will be someplace out of the way. I’ll throw in a little surprise.”

  “I hate surprises,” Qi’ra said.

  “You’ll like this one. It’s something I cooked up in the lab. Should come in handy.”

  Qi’ra looked to Han and Tsuulo. “What do you think?” she said.

  Tsuulo nodded, saying something that sounded affirmative.

  “It’s our best shot,” Han said. “I’ve been in lockup a few times myself. I know my way around the place.”

  “Then we’re agreed,” Qi’ra said. “Give us the coordinates of the drop point, and all the information you can about the holding area, and we’ll get your crew member back.”

  “I dare not risk using the holonet,” she said. “So everything you need will be left at the drop point.” She rattled off a set of coordinates, which Tsuulo typed into his datapad.

  That meant they’d have to retrieve the Engineer’s resources and then make a plan. Qi’ra would just have to work with that. “We have a deal,” she said.

  The Engineer inclined her head in acknowledgment, and the hologram winked out.

  The three of them were silent a long moment. The lamp on the table sputtered. Not much time left before it went out completely.

  “Well, that was interesting,” Han said.

  “I guess,” said Qi’ra.

  “You can come up with a plan, right?” he said. “No problem.”

  “Sure,” she said weakly. “No problem.” The truth was she was exhausted and hungry and totally out of her league. A weight pressed on her shoulders, crushing her down, making her feel small and helpless. She hated that feeling.

  “You knew exactly what to say to her,” Han marveled. “You’re a natural at…well, not at talking to people in general. You’re too stuck-up and detached for that.”

  “It’s a wonder you don’t have more friends, as encouraging as you are.”

  “What I mean is you’re really good at the business side of things. And you sound like all those”—he waved a hand in a vague gesture—“important people. You’re a player, Qi’ra, just like them.”

  “Thanks? I think?” But a little of that weight lifted, making her feel as though she could breathe.

  Tsuulo said something about sleep.

  “Yeah, maybe a couple of hours?” Han suggested.

  The little Rodian hunched under his blanket, his bad antenna nearly flat against his head as he studied the coordinates on his datapad. He had to be just as exhausted as they were, maybe more so, given his difficulty with cold temperatures. Poor guy. She and Han had dragged him into this mess, and he had never once complained.

  “Tsuulo,” Qi’ra said. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Yeah, none of this is your fault,” Han agreed.

  He looked up at them, blinking his huge black eyes in confusion.

  “I mean, if you just want to stay here,” Qi’ra said, “while Han and I get the Engineer’s crew member, that’s fine. We shouldn’t have forced you to be part of all this, and…well, I’m sorry.”

  Tsuulo responded with rapid-fire words, and Qi’ra was pretty sure she’d made him angry.

  “He says of course he’s coming along,” Han translated. “He’s in it for the long haul now. Besides, you and I are…” Han’s voice trailed off.

  “What? What did he say?” Qi’ra demanded.

  Tsuulo gestured at Han to keep translating.

  “He says you and I are his friends. And Tsuulo never turns his back on his friends.”

  “Oh,” Qi’ra said. She could feel her face, her heart, her soul freezing solid. Tight. Impenetrable…

  Then Tsuulo smiled, that ridiculous Rodian grin that could only ever reach about the width of three human fingers, and Qi’ra realized with a thud in her chest that she liked the little fellow. She enjoyed his company. These past couple of days would have been unbearable without him. And without Han.

  She cleared her throat. Han avoided their gazes, looking as uncomfortable as she felt.

  “Well, Tsuulo,” she said at last. “I can see why you and I are friends, but I have no idea why you’d want to be friends with that guy.” She thumbed in Han’s direction.

  “Hey!” Han said, though he was smiling.

  Tsuulo laughed, then he said something else that made Han frown.

  “What?” Qi’ra prompted.

  “He says everything will be fine. The Force is with him.”

  “Huh. I guess I’ll take first watch,” Qi’ra said.

  “Wake me in an hour?” Han said, already heading toward the cot.

  After everyone had napped they jumped into the speeder, and Tsuulo directed them to
the coordinates of the Engineer’s drop location. They skimmed across the freighter boneyard to the edge of the swamp, where the freshwater bog gave way to salt marsh. Muddy estuaries swirled through windblown grass, appearing as silver ribbons in the moonlight. Night fishers soared overhead, occasionally diving into the water. Scavenge droids on long stilts waded through the water looking for salvage and recyclables.

  The three of them crested a small rise, and suddenly the sea stretched before them, a vast black expanse frothing with white. Tsuulo directed Han to stop.

  A few meters more, and they’d meet the cold sand and rock of Coronet’s harsh shoreline. To their left a wide creek emptied into the ocean, the surface oily with darkness and…something else?

  The wind blew into their faces, and Qi’ra nearly choked.

  “What is that horrible smell?” Han said.

  Qi’ra drew the lapel of her jacket over her mouth, but it did little good. The air was thick with sweet rot and sour garbage and something far, far worse. It was so strong it made her eyes sting.

  Tsuulo said something that made Han gasp.

  “He says it’s sewage!” Han told her. “But that’s not right. We practically live in the sewers, and it never smells this bad.”

  “Actually, I think it might,” Qi’ra said. “We’ve been topside for more than a day. Our noses have readjusted.”

  Han gaped at her. “You mean the White Worm lair smells like this all the time? That means we probably smell like this all the time.”

  “You know what they say: ‘You can smell a White Worm coming a klick away.’” It made her wonder how much perfume had originally been on the clothes that Lady Proxima left for her.

  “Well, let’s grab the Engineer’s package and get out of here quick.”

  Tsuulo led them to small mound of rocks and sand and gravel, piled up like a cairn. The speeder headlamps lit the space as the three of them set to work clearing it away, and Qi’ra found herself moving too slowly, the weight of her thoughts making her sluggish.

  The truth was, she didn’t want to stink like a latrine. She didn’t want to be dirty all the time. She didn’t want to crash back into the dark sewers when she’d had a taste of open air and fancy clothes and beautiful hotels and the attention of powerful people who believed she had something to say.