by Troy Denning
Chewbacca growled in victory, then leapt away from a flurry of incoming darts. He came down next to an over-muscled man in an unstained farmer’s tunic, then sent the Imperial flying in one direction and his weapon in another.
Darts started flying in Chewbacca’s direction again. Han traced them back to a booth opposite Horm’s and poured blaster bolts through the mirrfield. Finally, he hit the projector relay and revealed a glittergowned woman kneeling on the table with a dart shooter in her hands. She dived for the back of the booth, but Leia fired, and the woman hit the couch in a smoking heap.
Chewbacca roared his thanks. Grabbing an Imperial to use as a shield, he began to work his way toward Horm’s booth.
The remainder of Quenton’s infiltration squad emerged from the shrieking crowd and began to spray darts everywhere. The Gamorreans dropped without swinging an ax blade, and Han and Leia had to take refuge behind Horm’s repulsor chair.
Han reached around the side and found he could just reach the controls. “Stick close. I have a plan.”
“Han!”
Han stopped short of moving the chair. “Yeah?”
“What are you doing?”
“He’s dead anyway.” Han grabbed a thick wrist and tried to feel for a pulse. “I think.”
“I did—I married a gundark.” Leia pulled his hand down. “Use the detonator.”
Han shook his head. “You don’t want that. I know you.”
“And how do you think I’ll feel when the Imperials crack Shadowcast and start executing our agents?” Leia removed the detonator from Han’s pocket, thumbed the fuse to twenty seconds, and activated it. “Do I have to throw this myself?”
“And you say you married a gundark!”
Han took the detonator, peered over the top of the chair, and saw the first stormtrooper emerging at the rear of the stage. Killik Twilight still rested on its easel.
“Fifteen seconds, fourteen…” Leia counted.
“I hope those troopers like art, because it’s the last thing—”
“Han!”
Han stood and threw.
He did not see the Squibs until the detonator hit and began to roll toward Killik Twilight.
They were clambering over the other side of the stage.
Han rushed out of the booth. “Emala, Sligh—detonator!”
He pointed, and the Squibs’ eyes went to the silver orb rolling toward the painting. So did the stormtroopers’.
The Squibs dived over the front of the stage, and the troopers stumbled back through the cityscape holograph, firing wildly in Han’s direction. Then a dark-haired man rose into view, riding the same lift-platform Celia had used to escape.
“No!” Han yelled. “Det—”
The man sprang onto the floor, kicked the detonator toward the front of the stage, snatched Killik Twilight off its easel, and raced for the far corner.
Han glanced at the holograph above the stage and instantly recognized the immaculately groomed hair. “Kitster Banai?”
Leia caught Han’s collar again and jerked him into the booth backward; he did not see whether Banai made it out alive. All he saw was the white flash of the exploding detonator.
Chapter Five
The Weequay—Grunts—had been clever enough to bring Leia and the others into Espa Heights from the back side, so they were peeking down on the Banai household from a sand-choked alley directly above and behind the home. It was a typical house for this part of town, with one large dome and three smaller ones arranged in a diamond around a central courtyard. A tarnished maintenance droid was out using a shovelvac to clear the enclosure of the last of the storm deposits, so it was impossible to hear what sounds might be drifting out of the air vents in the roofs. But through the window bubbles in the dome walls, they could see flying dishes and overturned furniture.
Chewbacca glared at Grunts and growled.
C-3PO leaned over the shoulder of the crouching Weequay and translated this—rather diplomatically, Leia knew—as, “Master Chewbacca was under the impression that we would arrive before the Imperials.”
“Who says we didn’t?” Grunts retorted. “Even if they saw who took the painting, nobody is going to tell the Imperials where Kitster lives—not after Quenton crossed Mawbo like that.”
Chewbacca rumbled an opinion that made Leia thankful Grunts did not understand Shyriiwook.
C-3PO said, “Master Chewbacca wonders how you can be sure they aren’t Imperials? Our vantage point is rather limited.”
The Weequay spun on his heels and sent C-3PO stumbling back. “He saying I don’t know what I’m talking about?”
Chewbacca snarled and started forward to explain himself in terms a Weequay could understand. Leia and Han rose and blocked his way. On the assumption that the Imperials would be watching for a Devaronian and a Twi’lek, they had both discarded their disguises and were now concealed only in heavy sand cloaks. Han turned to calm Grunts, and Leia stepped in front of the Wookiee, her neck craned way back so she could meet his gaze.
“Where do you think you’re going, big guy?”
He informed her he was going to rearrange a Weequay.
Leia knitted her brow. “Chewbacca, we don’t have time for this nonsense. We need to get down there and figure out what happened to Kitster and Killik Twilight.” She pushed him gently back toward his place. “Besides, Grunts is taking a big risk by helping us. I want you to apologize.”
Chewbacca grunted menacingly and glared at the Weequay over her head. Grunts glared back. Leia braced her hands on her hips and stood between them, silently demanding that the Wookiee do as she asked. Though she did not like to test him, she knew that he was almost as loyal to her as he was to Han. She gave Chewbacca her best stare, and finally he looked away, oowralling reluctantly.
“Master Chewbacca wishes to convey his awareness of Master Grunts’s fidelity in keeping the secret of our identities,” C-3PO said. “He also wishes to acknowledge that Master Grunts did not need to be asked twice when Captain Solo asked for help. He further explains that his temper is unusually difficult to control around Weequays, as their odor smells rather like a starved katarn coming up from the forest.”
Grunts eyed the droid doubtfully. “He said all that in one groan?”
“Of course,” Leia said. “Threepio doesn’t embellish. He’s a droid.”
C-3PO leaned closer to Grunts. “I believe it is quite an apology, for a Wookiee.”
Grunts murmured something that might have been acknowledgment or mockery, then looked back to the Banai house and said, “It isn’t Imperials. If it was Imperials, they’d have guards posted.”
Chewbacca snorted quietly.
Grunts was instantly on his feet, fists clenched. “What’d he say?”
Han grabbed his sleeve. “Take it easy. Chewie said you’re probably right.” He unholstered his blaster. “But there’s only one way to be sure. We need to go down and see.”
Grunts pulled a light repeating blaster from beneath his sand cloak. The fur rose along Chewbacca’s spine.
“Uh, Grunts, perhaps it would be better if you kept watch from here.” Leia passed a comlink to the Weequay. “Whether anyone wants to cooperate with the Imperials or not, it won’t take Quenton long to find out where Kitster lives. We can expect a squad of stormtroopers anytime.”
Grunts shot Chewbacca a baleful look, but clicked the comlink once to test it and nodded. He jumped up on a speeder-sized recycling bin and settled down on his haunches to keep watch.
C-3PO raised a hand. “Mistress Leia, perhaps keeping watch is a duty suitable for—”
“Forget it, Goldenrod.” Han stepped over the side and led the way down a short bank toward the Banai house. “We need someone to talk to that maintenance droid.”
Leia followed, with Chewbacca herding C-3PO down the slope behind her. Once they reached the house, Han jumped off the embankment and landed lightly on the roof. Leia went next, and together they scrambled to the top of the rear dome.
/> Behind her, C-3PO said, “Oh, my. I’m afraid I’m not equipped for such maneuvers. Without repulsorlifts—”
Leia turned to find Chewbacca gathering the droid up in a Wookiee hug.
“Help!” C-3PO cried. “I’ll be smashed to circuits!”
Chewbacca ignored him and took a running leap. He landed on the dome below the others, pinning C-3PO against the roof with his chest. He extended his climbing claws and pushed the droid up beside Leia.
Down in the courtyard, the maintenance droid’s photoreceptors were shining up in their direction. C-3PO spat a burst of static at it, and the droid replied with a similar burst.
“How interesting,” C-3PO said. “There are three Squibs inside. He says it’s going to take a week to clean up.”
“Squibs?” Leia looked at Han and shook her head, then grabbed his hand. “Cover us, Chewie.”
They slid into the courtyard together, then covered Chewbacca while he descended into the courtyard with C-3PO. The pair landed with only a minor amount of clanging, soft enough so the maintenance droid’s shovelvac concealed the noise.
Leia led the way to the primary dome and peered through a transparisteel door. A blond woman in her midthirties was squatting in the corner, covering her head and biting her lip as the Squibs raced around, touching objects to their cheeks, then smashing them.
“Doesn’t look like the Squibs found anything,” Han whispered. “How should we handle this?”
“Well, it doesn’t look like intimidation works,” Leia said. “And we’ve got to do something about those Squibs anyway. If we can win the woman’s gratitude, maybe I can get her to open up. She has to be worried about her… uh… father?”
Han pressed his brow to the transparisteel, then shook his head. “I don’t think so. Pretty old to be a daughter.”
Sligh sent a plate of blue alasl spinning into the wall above the woman’s head, and she finally screamed.
Grees jumped onto her knees and yelled so loud his voice was barely muffled by the door. “Where is he?”
“I told you, at the auction!”
“Liar!” Grees hopped down in front of a carved bantha bone cabinet, then opened a drawer and sent an empty flatware tray flying across the room. “That’s where we came from!”
Leia and Han checked each other to make sure their sand cloak hoods concealed their faces, then Leia opened the door.
Nobody inside seemed to notice.
“He m-m-must have left,” the woman said. “How would I know?”
Sligh went to her side and snatched a comlink from her tunic pocket. “I’m sure a bright woman like you knows how to work one of these.”
“You want me to call him?”
“Good idea!”
The woman extended a tentative hand, only to have Sligh slap it aside while he rubbed the comlink against his cheek.
“That’s enough, you three,” Han said, stepping into the room.
The three Squibs spun on their heels and, finding no sign of head horns or tentacles, did not seem to recognize their business partners. They immediately spread out across the cluttered floor and began to ease forward.
“Leave while you still can,” Grees said. He slipped a hand behind his back as though reaching for a blaster that Leia had already seen was not there. “This is no business of yours.”
“Actually, it is.” Leia waved Chewbacca and C-3PO through the door. “You might recognize our associates.”
Grees’s eyes narrowed. He barked something in Squibbian, and all three Squibs stopped advancing. “You.” He glowered at Chewbacca. “You took us for a thousand credits.”
Chewbacca showed his fangs and growled.
Grees was not intimidated. “There’s always a next time, Wookiee. Don’t think you’ve won this.”
“He didn’t do anything that wasn’t in the deal,” Han said. “You have a problem, you have it with all of us.”
“Oh, now I’m scared.” Sligh went over to Han and tipped his head back. The tip of his snout just reached Han’s belt. “What happened to the horns, Ace?”
“Lost them in a firefight.” Han tugged his hood forward, then pointed at the wide-eyed woman in the corner. “Why don’t you apologize to the nice lady and leave? We’ll take it from here.”
“Leave?” Emala shook her head and stepped to Sligh’s side. “That deal went sour. You tried to kill us. We’re all very disappointed in you.”
“If he had tried, you’d be dead.” Leia put her blaster away. “And we kept our end of the bargain. Your credits are still waiting at Mawbo’s, as soon as you want to go pick them up.”
“Mawbo’s?” Sligh scoffed. “Are you spacesick? Mawbo wouldn’t let us through the door right now.”
“Not our problem.”
Han holstered his blaster, then looked to Chewbacca, nodded, and turned his palms up.
Chewbacca tossed his bowcaster over, then dropped to his knees and lashed out with both arms, sweeping Grees and Sligh into his grasp.
Emala leapt instantly onto the Wookiee’s back, her sharp Squib teeth tearing out huge tufts of fur as she tried to rip her way down to his hide. He tucked the two males under one arm, then reached over his shoulder and plucked her off.
“Let go!” Emala ordered. “Don’t make me rip your throat out.”
Chewbacca rose, growling, and started for the front door.
“Stop!” Grees ordered. “You can’t cut us out like this!”
Chewbacca left the Banai house and started up the street toward the alley, where, Leia hoped, he would be able to intimidate the Squibs into leaving. She went to the woman in the corner and, electing not to kneel in the jagged shards covering the floor, crouched beside her and took her hand.
“It’s over,” she said. “They’re gone.”
The woman turned a pair of shocked blue eyes on Leia. The lines at the corners were deep and long, the lashes dark and carefully curled.
“Those… those terrors were yours?” she asked.
“We had a business arrangement.” Leia looked around the ransacked room, taking in the child-sized tunics, a speeder toy smashed under an overturned vidconsole, the four limbs of a stuffed bantha lying across the room from each other. “This was no part of it.”
Han picked up an overturned chair and brought it over. “Things kind of got out of hand at the auction.”
As Han said this, Leia watched the woman’s eyes and saw no sign of surprise.
“The Imperials were there.” Han brushed off the seat and offered the woman his hand, which she refused to take. “A fight started.”
Still no sign of surprise, but the woman asked, “Are you here to tell me something happened to Kitster?”
The question was a ruse, Leia realized. The woman’s composure so far suggested she already knew Banai was safe, which meant that she could probably lead Leia to him—and to Killik Twilight.
“We think Kitster escaped,” Leia said. She had decided that Han was right about the woman’s identity; a daughter probably would not call Banai by his first name. “Listen, we’re very worried your husband—”
“Tamora,” the woman put in. There was no hint of relief, only the quick information.
“I’m sorry,” Leia said. “Aren’t you married to Kitster?”
“More or less.” Finally, the woman allowed Han to help her into the chair. “My name is Tamora.”
“I see.”
Leia continued to study the room. Ransacked though it was, the house was too clean for Tamora to be the type who left her children’s clothes and toys lying around. Someone had warned her about the trouble at the auction, and that people would come looking for her husband. She had been rushing to leave when the Squibs arrived.
“Tamora, are your children safe?”
Finally, Tamora’s eyes betrayed some hint of surprise. “My children?”
Leia picked up one of the small tunics lying on the floor. “The little boy who wears this.” She pointed at the torso of the stuffed bantha. “And
the girl who plays with that.”
Tamora’s manner went from evasive to angry. She stood and crunched across the room in her bare feet, stopping in the kitchen entrance to turn and face Leia.
“Ji and Elly are safe,” she said. “They aren’t here—and they don’t concern you.”
“If you’re sure.” Leia was careful to avoid looking toward the locked doors of the plasteel pantry in the kitchen. She needed to win Tamora’s trust, and she was not going to do that by making the woman worry for her children. “You have nothing to fear from us, I promise.”
“That promise would sound a lot more sincere on your way out the door,” Tamora said. “Or at least coming from someone whose face I could see.”
“I’m sure.” Leia tipped her hooded head in acknowledgment. “But it’s safer for all of us this way.”
“If you say so,” Tamora said. “You’re the one with the Wookiee.”
Seeing that she was making little progress, Leia took a moment to circle the room, searching for another angle into the woman’s confidence. Had the reference to the Wookiee been a veiled suggestion that Tamora had guessed their identities? It was always possible, but Leia saw no advantage in pressing the point. Everything in the house hinted at the money troubles Banai had mentioned during the pre-auction inspection—an expensive durasilk-lined flatware tray lying on the floor among cheap plasteel utensils, the unfaded rectangles on the walls marking the pieces he had sold at auction, a corner left empty for an absent piece of sculpture.
Money was almost certainly the reason Banai had risked his life to steal the painting. In all likelihood, the promise of a big payoff was why Tamora had refused to be intimidated by the Squibs. To recover Killik Twilight, all Leia had to do was convince Tamora that she would pay more than the Imperials—more safely—and do so before Kitster sold the painting to Quenton.
Leia came to a transparisteel shelf hanging across from a pair of overturned reading chairs. There was only a little dust—probably just what had blown in through cracks during the storm—but enough to see that the empty place in the center had once been occupied by something square.
