Aftermath: Empire's End (Star Wars: Aftermath #3)(86)

“Are we ready?” Jas asks.

“I don’t know that there is such a thing as ready.”

“Hey,” Jas says, offering a steadying hand. The worry on Norra’s face must be broadcasting loud and clear. “We’re doing the right thing. We’re paying our debts. We’re finishing the job. There’s no greater honor.”

“Jas, I know you’ve given up a lot to be here. This isn’t what you do, and you put your life on hold to do it. I don’t think I’ve ever said thank you. You’ve taken up a cause that isn’t yours and—”

“Stop. It is my cause because I’ve made it my cause. My aunt was a bounty hunter and she used to help people. She’d abandon jobs to save some group of farmers or help free a bunch of Wookiees—and when I was young, I heard all those stories and I thought she was na?ve. I said I’d never be like her. But here I am. And you know what I realized? She had it right. The job isn’t anything. The job is just a job. And those debts don’t mean as much as these debts—the ones between you and me, the ones between…” She seems almost flustered now, like she’s exposing too much of herself and can’t find the words. “The ones between regular people and the whole damn galaxy. Crewing with you has changed me, Norra Wexley. And I owe you for that.”

She offers a hand. Norra takes it. They pull each other into an embrace. Norra says over the bounty hunter’s shoulder: “This sounds suspiciously like one of those talks you give before you die.”

“I don’t know that we’re going to die, but we’re about to head into the dragon’s den and we’re doing it on a world now smashed between two warring forces. I think it’s best to assume we may not make it.”

“Good pep talk.”

“Could be worse. I could be Sinjir.”

“Gods, I miss him. And I miss my son.”

“I miss them, too. So let’s stop chatting and do the work.”

Together they leave this small grotto and head back toward where the shuttle awaits. As they get closer, Jas spins around suddenly, clamping a hand over Norra’s mouth and hissing for her to shush.

What the—?

Emari touches a finger to Norra’s ear. A sign to listen.

So she listens.

Voices. They float through the passageways—and instantly she recognizes one of them: Mercurial Swift.

Jas waves them forward, whispering for Bones to be quiet. The droid’s legs bend inward and he eases forth on the tips of his skeletal toes. Together they gather around the bend just before the passageway empties out into the smooth, sculpted cavern mouth where the shuttle is parked. And it’s there they see Swift.

He’s not alone. With him are three others: a broad-shouldered Kyuzo, a round-bellied human with a filthy head swaddling, and a tall Rodian with antennae so long they almost droop over her bulbous blue-black eyes.

They stand before Niima. The shuttle waits just beyond them.

Which means the path is blocked.

Mercurial is saying to Niima: “I know she’s here, Hutt. We saw our ship land. Point us to the Zabrak and we go in peace.”

“AND IF NOT?” the Hutt asks.

It’s the man in the head-swaddle who answers: He points a long-barreled rifle and growls, “Then you go in pieces.”

“IT IS UNWISE TO THREATEN A HUTT.”

“That’s Dengar,” Jas whispers in a hushed voice.

Mercurial leans in, his chin up and out. “And it’s unwise to disappoint me. I’m on Black Sun’s payroll, slug. I matter. You’re just some backwater worm with no power in the galaxy. It looks like somebody already shot you up good and I’m happy to finish the—”

Niima’s hand darts out, catching him by the throat. She lifts him up high. His legs dangle as his cheeks bloom red, then purple.

“Grrk!” is the sound he makes.

“YOU INSIGNIFICANT SPECK OF INSECT WASTE—”

Dengar thrusts his rifle up into Niima’s face. The barrel presses hard against her nose-slits. “Careful, love. I don’t much like Swift, either, but I’m going to have to ask you to set him gently down. I’d hate to spray your head-slime all over the pretty rock, hm?”

Norra’s heart sinks. She hoped that Niima would be able to handle this. But the Hutt does as commanded—she drops Mercurial.

“I have a plan,” Jas whispers.

“I’m all ears.”

“I’ll distract them. You and Bones take the ship and go.”

“What? You must’ve given yourself a concussion when you broke those spikes off your head, Jas. I’m not leaving you behind.”

Jas eases Norra back and gets in close, nose-to-nose. “Listen, Norra. Those bounty hunters are skilled. If we leave them alive, they’ll alert the Empire that we’re coming and our cover will be blown.”

“Bones can handle them.”

The rattletrap B1 nods furiously at that.

“You’ll need him,” Jas says. “We can’t risk it. They want me. So they’ll get me. I’ll catch up later.”

“Jas, wait—”

But it’s too late. She goes back the way she came.

Damnit, Emari.

Next thing she knows, it’s happening. Jas yells from somewhere deeper in the passageways, and with that, the bounty hunters turn toward the noise—and true to the plan, they bolt in her direction. The sound of blasterfire fills the temple, echoing through the chambers.