by Rae Carson
“What do you mean, my dear?” Jenra said.
“To feel safe. To survive. To be free of the people chasing you once and for all.”
Jenra leaned forward. “Do you feel safe, Qi’ra?”
“Never.”
“You have your answer. I’ll try to sell the plans again, and once the deal goes through, I’ll disappear—somewhere on the Outer Rim where even the Empire doesn’t touch. I’ve been planning this a long time, and I have every confidence that things will go as I have foreseen. But I will never let myself feel safe.”
Qi’ra noted the slight contradiction. I have every confidence….I will never feel safe…. Maybe that was the trick. Be confident, but ever alert.
The next question on the tip of her tongue was, Why are you being so nice to us? Why didn’t you throw us out of the airlock as soon as you got your cube back?
But the answer came to her, and she kept her mouth shut. Jenra was showing them hospitality because she still needed them. But why? Something that had to do with selling her shield generator plans…
“How has that been going?” Qi’ra asked, probing. “Selling the datacube, I mean?”
“Oh, fine,” she said. “We will hopefully have another auction soon.”
Hopefully, not definitely.
“The Empire’s presence on Corellia has definitely grown since you arrived,” Qi’ra pointed out.
Tsuulo made a noise of agreement.
“They tracked you here somehow. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that all the potential buyers are a little gun-shy,” Qi’ra went on. “Or stalling while they figure out if it would be more beneficial to simply turn you in.”
“I bet there’s a huge price on your head,” Han said. “More money than I can imagine.”
Qi’ra gave him her best Be careful! look.
Han immediately put his hands up and said, “Not that we’d ever turn you in! We’re just glad to get out of all this alive.”
Jenra studied the three of them in turn, as if considering. After a moment, she said, “I admit, although there has been considerable interest in a second auction for the cube, buyers have been slow to come to the table.”
Qi’ra pondered this. And then she smiled.
“Uh-oh,” said Han.
At Jenra’s questioning look, Han explained, “That’s Qi’ra’s ‘I’m coming up with a plan’ face.”
“Oh?” She turned to Qi’ra. “Are you? Coming up with a plan?”
Qi’ra couldn’t stop smiling.
Han had to shake himself loose from the snare of Qi’ra’s smile. That smile did funny things to his head. For instance, earlier it had actually made him believe for a moment that he could pilot a starship someday.
Good thing he’d come to his senses fast.
“I know you’re having trouble finding buyers who will risk the Empire’s wrath without betraying you,” Qi’ra was saying to the Engineer. “But I know someone who can find them for you.”
“Who?” Han prompted.
Tsuulo let his head fall into his hands. He’d obviously figured it out already.
“Lady Proxima.”
Han frowned. “Not this again. Qi’ra, I’ve already told you, she doesn’t care about us. She just—”
Qi’ra put up a hand to forestall his protests. “Hear me out. If we—”
But Jenra said, “Wait. Last time, Proxima’s bid was the lowest. Insultingly low. Does she have any idea what she’s doing?”
“She had no idea what your shield tech was worth,” Qi’ra said. “But she knows everyone on Corellia.”
Han was warming to the idea. “As gangs go, the White Worms are nothing compared to one of the big syndicates,” he said. “But Qi’ra’s right. Lady Proxima knows everyone. The White Worms have deep roots on Corellia. Old roots. Proxima has more influence than money. She has connections.”
Tsuulo said, “And guards.”
“And guards,” Han added. “She has a whole army of White Worms, so she can make any meeting location secure. There’s no chance of the Kaldana Syndicate showing up and trying to blast their way to a winning bid again.”
“She can broker the deal for you,” Qi’ra said. “She can rally buyers, arrange payment and delivery, and keep everything secure. All under the Empire’s nose. For a small commission, of course.”
Jenra’s eyes narrowed. “How much of a commission?”
Qi’ra hesitated.
Han knew that if she picked a number that was too low, she risked being insulting again. But if she picked a number that was too high, Jenra would never take the deal seriously.
“One half of one percent of the gross sale price.”
Jenra raised a single eyebrow. “Hmmm.”
Han did the math in his head. If the Engineer received another bid as high as the last one—a billion credits—then Lady Proxima and the White Worms would come away from the deal with a cool five million. That was more money than Han had ever seen in his life.
“You know exactly what Proxima bid the last time,” Qi’ra said. “So you know that’s a lot of money for her. But it’s nothing for you. Both of you win.”
“What’s in it for you three?” Jenra asked. “What do you win?”
Han and Qi’ra looked at each other, and understanding passed between them. Tsuulo’s face was still in his hands.
“We get to go home,” Qi’ra said softly. “Such as it is.”
“It’s not like we have anywhere else to go,” Han said.
“People like us don’t survive down there without joining a gang or a syndicate,” Qi’ra said.
Han knew exactly what Qi’ra meant by “people like us.” People with no family, no friends, no resources.
“Proxima saves face,” Han added. “And she lets us back into the White Worms as heroes who saved the day and made her rich.”
Han could tell he sounded as glum as he felt. Two days before, he would have done anything to go back to the White Worms safely, resume his hardscrabble life of running errands for Lady Proxima while secretly working on his junker speeder. But now…
He stared out the window. The stars looked so different from up here than planetside, where clouds and smog and light pollution made a starry night as rare as a beautiful day. He’d always known in his head that the galaxy was a big place. But now he knew it in his gut, in his very being. There were billions of stars out there, maybe more, and he wanted to see them all.
“I suppose it’s worth a try,” the Engineer said at last, and her face was smug. Han had a feeling she’d gotten exactly what she wanted. Maybe that was why she was being so nice; she needed someone from Corellia to broker the deal. Naturally, Qi’ra had figured it out and taken advantage.
“Now we contact Proxima?” Han asked.
Jenra stood. “Come with me. My comm room on level three is equipped with a holotransceiver.”
Tsuulo finally looked up, eyes bright. He didn’t want to miss the opportunity to see a new gadget at work.
They followed Jenra out of the viewing lounge, down a short corridor to a lift. As they walked, he couldn’t help noticing the way Qi’ra was staring straight ahead, her face a mask of frozen perfection. That meant something was bothering her, but no way was she going to let on.
He leaned over and whispered, “This was a good idea.”
“I guess.” She frowned thoughtfully. “I mean, thanks.”
It took a while to coordinate with Lady Proxima. Jenra didn’t trust any of the standard Corellian transmission frequencies, so she had to contact the White Worm leader using assets on the ground, then arrange a secure line of communication. All that logistical stuff seemed boring to Han, but Qi’ra and Tsuulo drank it in—Qi’ra for the strategizing, Tsuulo for the tech.
Eventually, they worked it out, and Han found himself in the comm room with Jenra and his friends, staring at a pedestal. Atop the pedestal was a flat metal circle, studded with what looked like glass coins.
“Projectors,” Tsuulo whispered to him.
Jenra operated the console, firing it up. A form buzzed to life on the pedestal before them, glowing blue, hunchbacked with a beakish face and cloudy, wide-spaced eyes.
Lady Proxima.
“Han. Qi’ra. Tsuulo. My darling children,” she crooned. “It’s such a relief to see you all safe and hale.” The holotransceiver displayed the White Worm leader at only three-quarter size, but Han still fought the urge to recoil. “And you must be the Engineer I’ve heard so much about.”
Jenra inclined her head in acknowledgment but said nothing.
“It’s lovely to see you, my lady,” Qi’ra answered smoothly, but her hands were clutched tightly before her.
“Moloch and his scrumrats, Rebolt and his hounds, they’ve been all over Coronet City, looking for you, hoping to bring you home safely,” Proxima said. “Everyone is just so worried.”
“Yeah, we’ve been worried too,” said Han wryly. “Worried we were going to die.”
Qi’ra shot him a warning glance.
“Well, I don’t deny that there is much I wished to discuss with you,” Proxima said. “Regarding that absolute debacle of an assignment. Perhaps our eagerness to retrieve you was misinterpreted.”
Fat chance of that, but this time Han kept his mouth shut and let Qi’ra take the lead.
“Speaking of our assignment,” she said, “we asked the Engineer to contact you for us so that we could complete it.”
Lady Proxima blinked, and the fingers of her left hand twitched. “You wish to complete your assignment,” she said flatly.
“Yes, my lady.” Quickly, Qi’ra sketched out the plan. Han admired the way she did it, adding lots of flattery about Proxima’s connections and influence, setting up the next idea and then dragging her heels just long enough that Proxima would suggest it herself—and think of it as her own. His own style was more direct and on the nose, the way a punch was on the nose. He could never do things the way Qi’ra did them.
“If you bring serious buyers to the deal and guarantee their discretion, the Engineer will award you a broker’s fee,” Qi’ra finished.
Lady Proxima’s eyes widened. Her fingers were twitching in earnest now. “And how big is the broker’s fee?”
“Based on the largest offer last time, it would be ten times the amount proffered by the White Worms,” Qi’ra said.
Proxima’s eyes narrowed and she leaned forward. The faint sound of her clicking came across the holoprojection like a burst of static. “What percent is that?”
“One half of one percent of the sale price.”
Lady Proxima recoiled as if she’d been physically struck by the size of the other bids.
Tsuulo tugged on Qi’ra’s sleeve and whispered something in her ear, and Han only caught the words for “home” and “White Worms” and “kill.” Han prepared to translate, but Qi’ra must have understood fine because she said, “Tsuulo reminds me: your commission is contingent upon you welcoming us back into the White Worms. You must agree that there will be no repercussions for…er, how long it took to complete our assignment.”
Lady Proxima pretended to consider, but Han could tell she was sold.
“So that’s all? I arrange buyers and let you back into the White Worms?”
“And you have to double our food rations!” Han blurted. “Not just us. For all the scrumrats. With the money you’re about to make, you can afford it, easy.”
“Yes, what Han said,” Qi’ra affirmed calmly, although she sent a quick glance and the flicker of a smile his way.
“And you, Madame Engineer,” Proxima said. “You’ve negotiated with my children and agreed to these terms?”
“I have,” Jenra said. “They are exceptional children. You should be proud.”
“Let’s make it six-tenths of a percent.”
“Five-and-a-half-tenths.”
“Deal.”
Lady Proxima opened her wide beak mouth in what passed for a grin. “I’ll get to work right away. Expect me to contact you on this frequency in exactly one Corellian day. And, Qi’ra, my darling…this had better work. If not, I’ll—”
“We look forward to hearing from you,” Jenra said. She hit a switch, and the projection of Lady Proxima flickered out. “Is she always so horrible?”
“Horribler,” Qi’ra said.
“She’s the horriblest,” Han said.
“All in all, I think that went well,” the Engineer said. “Let’s hope she comes through.”
“She will,” Han assured her. “There’s no way she’s letting all that money slip her grasp.”
Qi’ra wiped her hands on her skirt and took a deep breath.
“Were you nervous?” Han said.
“Maybe a little.”
“Well, you did great.”
“Thanks, you too. And thanks, Tsuulo, for suggesting we make our return an official part of the deal.”
Tsuulo bleeped happily about the Force being with them.
“I guess we have a day to kill,” Han said. “Can I maybe have that tour of the ship now?”
Jenra smiled indulgently. “I’ll have my assistant show you around.”
Han turned for the door. If this was his last day on an actual starship, he was going to make the most of it.
“Wait, Qi’ra,” the Engineer said. “I’d like a word with you.”
They all stopped.
“Just Qi’ra,” Jenra clarified.
Han had a bad feeling. And Qi’ra did too, judging by her narrow-eyed, cornered-rat demeanor.
“Whatever you say to me, you can say in front of my…friends,” Qi’ra said.
Jenra shrugged. “Very well. I could use another assistant. Someone qualified to be my spokesperson, who will negotiate and entertain on my behalf on those occasions when it would be best not to show my face. I’m on the run from the Empire, after all.”
Qi’ra’s lips parted in surprise. Han felt the walls of the comm room closing in around him.
“You’ll need training,” Jenra continued blithely. “Definitely some grooming. But I believe you have tremendous potential.”
Qi’ra just stared. Tsuulo started jabbering about what a good spokesperson Qi’ra would be.
“What’s he saying?” Jenra asked.
“He says Qi’ra would be perfect for the job,” Han translated, and his words sounded far away, as if they were coming from someone else. Why was it suddenly so hot in here? He tugged on his vest, trying to loosen it.
“And what do you think, young Han?” Jenra asked.
“I think…” He could hardly get enough air. “I think Tsuulo’s right. Qi’ra can do anything, become anyone. That’s just who she is.”
“High praise indeed,” Jenra said. She turned back to Qi’ra, who hadn’t moved, much less said a word. She was like a frozen statue, or maybe a bird poised to take flight. “You remind me of myself, Qi’ra. When I was younger. Full of ideas and ambition, but short on opportunity. In another life, on another world, you might have been an engineer like me.”
Still, Qi’ra said nothing.
Tsuulo’s sturdier antenna drooped. Han remembered that he’d hoped to be an engineer himself someday.
Jenra pressed on. “You’d never lack for food. Or nice clothes. You’d see the galaxy. Surely life aboard the Red Nimbus is better than the one waiting for you back in the sewers.”
Qi’ra should accept. She’d be stupid not to. Right?
Finally, she spoke. “What about my friends?”
Jenra smiled coldly, in a way that Han thought was really no smile at all. “I don’t need three more assistants. Just one.”
“But what…what about…”
“Oh, my sweet, young girl, if you want better things—and I’ve been watching you; I know you do—you have to make sacrifices. That means leaving friends behind. They have their own futures. No doubt to rise high in the hierarchy of Lady Proxima’s little gang. We all take different paths. This is the one laid out before you.”
Qi’ra opened her m
outh. Closed it.
“I would have offered it to you privately,” Jenra said. “But you insisted that I do it in front of your…friends.”
Qi’ra looked to Tsuulo, and then Han, as if seeking answers. Or maybe permission.
Han pictured it in his mind: Going back to the White Worms. Descending into the sewers. Faithfully tinkering on his speeder that didn’t even have an engine yet. Running errands for Proxima day in and day out. Eating rat sludge.
All without Qi’ra. After today, he might never see her again.
He whirled angrily and headed out the door. He threw the words over his shoulder like weapons: “I’ll give you your privacy. I’m sure you have lots to discuss without me. I’ll find your assistant myself. Finally take that tour.”
Qi’ra watched Han leave the viewing lounge, feeling a sickness that had nothing to do with eating too much rich food. Tsuulo twittered something and left a moment later.
“That boy really likes you,” the Engineer said.
Qi’ra shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “We’ve been through a lot together the past few days.”
“Is that why you’re hesitant to accept my offer? Don’t let a boy hold you back, Qi’ra. The galaxy is full of boys, even attractive ones like Han.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Are you saying you need time?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.” Qi’ra wanted to be alone more than anything in the galaxy. She needed to think. The Engineer’s offer of employment was the most incredible thing that had ever happened to her. But something about it wasn’t right. And she couldn’t say what.
“Well, you only have a day. Then I’m gone.”
Qi’ra’s shock was wearing off, her survival instinct kicking back in. She realized she needed to say something placating. “I understand. And…thank you. It’s a very generous offer.”
She fled—walked purposefully—out of the viewing lounge and didn’t take a breath until the doors slid shut behind her and she was standing in the corridor.
Everything she had ever wanted, and more, offered to her on a silver platter.
And she had earned it.
She had earned this opportunity, not once, but over and over again.
