Canto Bight [Star Wars]

by Saladin Ahmed

  The guard holstered his blaster. “In that case, I’ll just take that tray off your hands.”

  Lexo smiled, handing the tray over. “Please give the baron’s regards to everyone working hard tonight.”

  “Yeah, sure. Now go back the way you came.”

  “At once.”

  Lexo turned to go, but he listened carefully as the guard’s footsteps retreated in the opposite direction. When he was sure the way was clear, he turned back around and darted into the alcove.

  He had to move fast now. That refreshment tray wouldn’t occupy the guard for long.

  Lexo noted the deck number on the wall. He needed to contact Jerdon Bly. But how? Maybe Panpick could help. No, the countess was a better option. She knew everyone.

  He pulled out his disposable comlink and called the countess’s office, and without any questions asked, his request to connect with Jerdon Bly was approved.

  “Bly here. This is not a good time to—”

  “Good evening, sir,” Lexo said. “I’m the personal assistant to Lady Centada Ressad.”

  “Oh?”

  And just in case their connection was traceable, Lexo added, “Her great friend the countess was so kind as to connect me to you.”

  “Oh.”

  “Sir, my mistress regrets that she was unable to return your…kind attention in public. A matter of protocol, you see.”

  “I…uh…appearances matter, I suppose.”

  “You are wise. In any case, my mistress finds you…intriguing, and would very much like to continue the scintillating conversation begun on the observation deck.”

  “She would, would she?” Lexo could almost hear him preening.

  “Indeed. If you are still available, she has arranged a private space for you both.”

  “Where?”

  “Deck two, just below the galley. She is there now, with a one-hundred-fifty-year-old vintage of Gorvinian red, and she does not care to drink it alone.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Their communication clicked off.

  Lexo began warming up his fingers, using a grip-and-flex technique that would loosen the tendons and increase blood flow. The pain had returned in full force, and every motion was agony. At his peak, he could kill a human in seven seconds. Tonight he might need eight or nine.

  It seemed as though he waited forever before footsteps echoed on the nearby stairs. It could be wait staff approaching, or the security guard on his rounds again. Lexo didn’t know what excuse he’d use a second time. He peeked out from the alcove.

  It was Jerdon Bly, striding down the narrow corridor as if he owned the whole yacht.

  “This way,” Lexo said, gesturing. “Quickly.”

  “I’ve seen you before,” Bly said.

  “I’m certain you have not.” Lexo indicated the door to the supply closet. “My mistress is inside.”

  Bly hesitated.

  “I’m to stay outside and make certain you both are not disturbed. She wants you all to herself for a while.”

  That decided him. Bly stepped beyond Lexo, raised his hand to the access hatch. It was locked.

  “Here, let me help you with that.” Lexo made as if to reach down over Bly’s shoulder.

  He touched the man’s neck. A gentle touch only, right on top of the carotid artery. Chemicals seeped from his fingertips.

  Human skin was so porous. It only took one second for the chemical to reach Bly’s heart, another second to flood his entire bloodstream.

  Bly swayed on his feet. “I feel funny.”

  Three seconds.

  “You’ll be able to sit down soon,” Lexo said. “I will steady you.”

  Four seconds.

  Lexo leveraged Bly against the wall, then pressed down on both sides of his neck, digging deep, deep, deeper, cutting off all blood flow to his brain. The chemicals had done their work. Bly was too relaxed, too confident, too stupid.

  Five. Six.

  Bly’s eyes widened. He had finally realized something was wrong.

  Seven.

  Jerdon Bly dropped to the floor.

  Lexo felt the ligament in his right forefinger tear.

  Lexo knew he should flee, but he couldn’t risk an assassination gone wrong, so he squatted beside Bly’s body, continuing to press down a few seconds more—and oh, it hurt—just to make sure he was well and truly dead.

  Now to stash him somewhere and escape. No, that wouldn’t do. It was essential that Bly’s body be discovered. The countess had to know that the job was done in order to fulfill her end of the bargain.

  More footsteps.

  The closet was locked. He had no place to hide.

  Lexo dashed from the alcove toward the stairs. But he was dizzy and weak from using his ability, and his shoulder crashed into the wall.

  “What are you doing?” came the familiar voice at his back. The security guard had returned. “Stop, or I’ll…Sands. Hey, are you all right? Sir?”

  Bly’s body had been discovered. Lexo regained his footing. He was almost up the stairs.

  Blasterfire erupted near his shoulder. The scent of burning fabric filled the air. The blaster had grazed his robe.

  He reached the galley level, and slammed the hatch shut behind him. He sprinted for the next stairway, too slowly. If he made it to the main deck, maybe he could figure out a way to escape. A yacht this size surely had safety measures in place. Floating devices, hovercraft, some kind of emergency egress. He just had to find one.

  A cheer went up as he was gaining the main deck. The yacht hit a wave, sending him into the railing, as spray drenched his face. Keep moving, Lexo.

  The baron’s guests would know where to go. He hosted parties on the Undisputed Victor constantly, and many of his guests came night after night.

  He jogged toward the stern, figuring it was the most likely location for an emergency craft, keeping an eye out for any stray partier. In the distance, fireworks lit up the horizon, painting the silhouette of the now distant city in rainbow colors. The first group of fathier races was at an end, and the guests had an intermission to buy more drinks and place more bets.

  “Why aren’t you at your assigned post? You should be on the observation deck.”

  Lexo whirled. It was the supervisor droid from the galley.

  He yelled the first thing that came to mind. “The yacht is on fire!”

  “What?”

  Lexo twisted to show him the blaster mark on his robe. “See? Get everyone to safety!” Lexo sprinted away, yelling over his shoulder, “And sound the alarm!”

  The railing curved around toward the stern and Lexo followed it. His back itched with the expectation of feeling a blaster bolt any moment. Every door he passed was sure to contain a horde of security personnel. Every alcove a Trandoshan guard.

  He reached the stern. Shapes huddled on couches, watching the horizon, surrounded by faint candles. It was darker here than on the observation deck, quieter, more private. Quickly, Lexo pulled his black, Dor Namethian robe over his head, turned it inside out so that the blue silk side showed, then re-donned it.

  Lexo strode forward, hands clasped. “Excuse me, gentlebeings,” he said.

  Several heads turned his direction. He could barely make out their features in the candlelight.

  He announced: “There is no reason to panic, but I’ve received word of a minor conflagration in the engine room.”

  Everyone jumped to their feet. And to Lexo’s very great relief and delight, the yacht’s alarm siren began to wail.

  Over the sound of the alarm, he yelled, “Please proceed in an orderly fashion to the life craft.”

  People started running.

  “The baron apologizes for the inconvenience, but he is concerned for your…”

  No one was left to lie to anymore. Lexo took off after the last straggler, knowing he would lead Lexo home.

  THE COUNTESS WAS STANDING ON her balcony, waiting for him. Makeup smeared her face, and a wine stain marred the front of
her gown.

  She opened with, “You look terrible.”

  He declined to note that the observation was mutual. “It’s been a long night,” he said. “You see, my patron for this assignation did not provide me with an egress, and I had to improvise.”

  “How did you get away?”

  She seemed disappointed. Maybe she had counted on him being caught. “I convinced a droid to sound a fire alarm, then followed several of the baron’s guests to an emergency life craft. Once we reached the mainland, I dashed away before I could be recognized. So I’m somewhat in disarray. By the way, Jerdon Bly is dead.”

  “Yes, I heard.” She leaned out over the railing. A glass was in her hand again. Full, again. “The news broke right away. The baron will stop at nothing to find the person who was uncouth enough to commit murder on his yacht. He has the Canto Bight police speeding everywhere, looking for a Dor Namethian in black robes.”

  “It’s a good thing these are bright blue.”

  She smiled slightly. “Indeed. You should be careful, though. There are only a few Dor Namethians in Canto Bight at any given time. You’re sure to be questioned.”

  “You wouldn’t allow that. And I can’t imagine that this tiny incident will hold their attention long.”

  “It’s true. Sooger, you did me a great favor tonight. I’ll do what I can to protect you.”

  “Thank you. About our bargain…”

  Fireworks flooded the sky again. The main fathier races were officially over for the night, though some gamblers would linger for the after-hours races. Lexo thought of Joris, who was probably on her way to the track now to bet on the red-eye runs.

  “I did as you suggested,” the countess said. “I broke from my usual tradition and bet on a long shot. A creature named Shifting Sands. He placed second.”

  Was that good or bad? Lexo knew little about racing. “I’m…glad for you?”

  “I won enough money that I no longer need to sell my share of the spa.”

  “That’s wonderful news. How did Hard Luck do?”

  “He placed sixth in his race.”

  “Impressive.”

  “It is?”

  Lexo smiled. Lula would be so glad to hear her favorite fathier was all right. “He had some extra obstacles to overcome tonight. In any case, our bargain—”

  “I’ve told you how Big Sturg Ganna is a great friend and close ally, yes?”

  “Yes, Countess,” he said, warily.

  “Well, as a gesture of friendship between us, and to show what a good sport I am about selling my share of Zord’s Spa to him—”

  “I thought you had decided not to s—”

  She raised a hand to silence him. “Ganna has been struggling with the climate lately. As a gesture of friendship, I’ve arranged for you to attend Ganna tonight in his own suite at my expense. I’ve promised him the very best massage, using a technique reserved only for the most elite guests. For royalty, like me.”

  “I won’t kill him for you,” Lexo said. “I can’t. His is one of the few species I have no effect on.” The truth was he didn’t know if he had the strength. Not without food, rest, a splint for his injured finger, and another series of injections.

  “Has this city made you so obtuse? So cynical? I’m not asking you to kill him, Sooger. I’m fulfilling my end of the bargain.”

  He stared at her. The Onyx Bands glittered at her chest, reminding him how far above him she was in station. “Apologies, Countess,” he managed. “Please go on.”

  “He doesn’t know it’s you. He thinks I’m sending one of the other masseurs. I was concerned that if he knew you were coming, he’d remove your daughter to another location. So the moment you’re inside, I’ve arranged for the hotel to cut all utilities to Ganna’s suite—even his emergency generators will go down. Routine maintenance, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “A fan will come on, pushing hot dry air into the suite. Ganna will be forced to shelter in his regen aquarium for safety until the issue is resolved. You will have a very short period of time to find your daughter and escape.”

  Lexo breathed relief, his shoulders swelling with hope. “A short period of time is all I need.”

  “I’ve arranged a speeder to transport you there.”

  “Thank you, Countess.” He turned to go.

  “One last thing.”

  Lexo stopped. “Yes, Countess?”

  “You did me a favor with that racing tip, so I have a tip for you, too. When you are at Ganna’s, if you have a spare moment, even the sliver of an opportunity, it would be worth the risk to investigate his personal library.”

  “Oh? What will I find there?”

  “Nothing, of course. If you do not find it, I certainly did not know about it. And if you are caught, you won’t be able to say what you’re looking for.”

  Lexo’s eyes narrowed. “But it’s something you can’t retrieve yourself.”

  “Ganna is my great friend and closest ally, after all. Now go. I don’t want to see you in my office ever again.”

  AFTER SNEAKING AROUND THE CITY all night with hardly any resources, it felt strange to arrive at someone’s front door in style. The luxury speeder the countess provided had a fully equipped bar, vidscreens, and a temperature and humidity perfectly adjusted for Dor Namethian physiology. Two of the countess’s sentry droids accompanied him into the hotel and down the lift to the front door of Ganna’s suite.

  One of the sentry droids said, “The masseur from Zord’s Spa and Bathhouse is here, as expected.”

  The Gamorrean guards looked at Lexo, then at each other.

  “Isn’t that the drunk we chased off a few hours ago?” said one.

  The second guard wrinkled his nose. “Sure smells like him.”

  Lexo touched his translator necklace. “How do you feel when people say that all Gamorreans look alike or smell the same? I’ve been employed by Zord’s Spa for years, and I never drink. Please do call to check my credentials. And then explain to the councilor why you delayed his massage.”

  They let him pass.

  Ganna’s suite seemed like a lush cave. Potted ferns lined the entry, vines crept up the walls, fountains boasted flowering lilies and bioluminescent algae that cast a bluish glow over everything. The sound of tinkling water filled the cold, damp air. A few pale lights hung from the ceiling; Lexo guessed they were the same spectrum as the sun of Ganna’s homeworld.

  He would have found the place beautiful, were it not for the fact that it smelled of rotting vegetables. In fact, the scent was so strong, he’d be lucky to detect Lula’s trail of corwindyl. It had been hours since he was here, when he’d caught that barest whiff. The scent had since faded, possibly to nothing.

  He reached a vestibule with a low, domed ceiling. Doorways branched off in all directions; each doorway was enormous to accommodate Ganna’s large form. One of the Gamorrean guards grunted, indicating that Lexo should turn to the right.

  Lexo hesitated. The environmental controls would go out any moment, so he glanced around, breathing deep through his nose on the off chance that some corwindyl scent lingered.

  There! To his left. Faint but sure. Lula was that way.

  The guard grunted again. Lexo took a very slow, very small step in the indicated direction. He just needed to stall until—

  A loud whine. A thump. All the nearby doors slammed open—a safety precaution in times of mechanical failure.

  Something began to whir loudly—an environmental fan deep in the hotel ductwork. A breeze caressed Lexo’s face, bringing dryness and unbearable heat.

  “What is the meaning of this?” said one of the countess’s sentry droids.

  Lexo stepped quietly to the left. Only a few paces to get to the door.

  The Gamorrean guards began to argue. They were too far away for his translator necklace to work, but it was clear they would be charging into the room at any moment. He took another soft step.

  “Is this how the councilor treats his
guests?” the droid continued. “My mistress will hear about this, mark my words.”

  Lexo’s toe thumped the wall. He had misjudged the direction of the door.

  He inhaled through his nose. The corwindyl was just a little to his right…there. He felt around until he encountered the empty doorframe.

  He ducked inside. It was another hallway, long and low-ceilinged, with dim light and lush plants. A plush carpet runner woven with vines and flowers ran its entire length. The corridor was too long, too wreathed in shadow, for Lexo to see where it led.

  The countess’s sentry droids would keep the guards busy for as long as they could, but Lexo had little time. He moved forward as quickly as he dared, following the scent of corwindyl. The thick rug softened his footsteps.

  Abruptly, the scent of corwindyl disappeared. He stopped, sniffed the air.

  It was behind him now.

  But that made no sense. He hadn’t encountered another room, not even a bit of furniture. The only thing he’d found so far was a rug.

  He squatted, reached around for the edge of the rug, pulled it back. The scent became stronger.

  Lexo’s fingertips brushed cool metal, a sharp, surprising contrast with the stone floor. The colored lights of an access panel blinked up at him. It was a trapdoor.

  With the controls out, the panel wouldn’t work, so he rooted around until he found a manual lever. Wary of his throbbing finger, he yanked up with all his strength. The hinges creaked. He glanced around nervously.

  He propped the trapdoor open and probed the space with his feet until he discovered the lip of a stair. Lexo descended carefully, feeling out each step before settling his weight on it. He considered closing the trapdoor, but decided against it. Lula and he might need a quick egress.

  He reached the ground floor. Another dim room filled with plants, and Lexo vaguely noted shelves full of knickknacks on display. But he had more important things to focus on because the scent of corwindyl was stronger now. Much stronger. He dared to whisper: “Lula?”