Part 3 (1/2)

Kyle released his grip on the weapon and watched the droid place it on the far side of the table. ”Now, where were we? Oh yes, our friend Jerec. He has many plans, Jerec does. Unfortunately, you don't factor into any of them. But I'm not without a heart. Ooops! My mistake . . . I am without a heart! Still, I might allow you to live, if you answer my questions.”

8t88 held up a disk. It was approximately six centimeters in diameter and gleamed in the light. ”Look familiar? Well, it should. I found dozens of them in your father's home.”

Kyle made a grab for the disk, but hands held him back. The droid didn't seem to notice. ”I'm pretty good with codes, but this one eludes me. Perhaps you'd be so kind as to provide some advice. Or shall I allow my friends to indulge the darker aspects of their personalities?”

Kyle eyed the disk and wondered what was on it. ”The dark side? I've been there. Do your worst.”

8t88 shook his head. ”Too bad. What's the saying - 'Like father, like son'? Not a very pleasant thought, given the way your father ended his days. Have a nice evening.”

The droid slid sideways, got to his feet, and made for the door. Someone chuckled as another body took the recently vacated seat. It was a Gran, and all three of his stalk-mounted eyes were bloodshot. His voice sounded like a gravel crusher stuck in low gear. ”Remember me? It took three months for that blaster burn to heal.”

”Can't say that I do,” Kyle replied honestly, ”but the streets are filled with trash - and it's hard to tell one piece from another.”

The Gran was just starting to respond when Kyle reached over his shoulder, grabbed the second bounty hunter, a foul-smelling Rodian, and yanked. The diminutive alien arced through the air and slammed onto the table. The blaster took on a life of its own. It slid across the wellworn surface and into Kyle's hand. The Gran blinked in quick succession. ”You'll never leave here alive. Nar Shaddaa will be your grave!”

Kyle grinned. ”I'm not interested in leaving. Not till I conclude some business with 8t88 . . . . ”

The bounty hunters watched the Rebel slide out of the booth, get to his feet, and back away. ”Thanks for everything. Let's have lunch sometime.”

n.o.body laughed.

Jan Ors guided the Moldy Crow down through the upper reaches of the city. There were all sorts of navigational hazards - spires, gantries, platforms, and sky bridges - all of which had been constructed for the convenience of those who owned them, without regard for the public good. It seemed as though an entire constellation of red warning lights floated around her. Not to mention the sometimes deceptive signs that might guide pilots to their destination - or into an isolated cargo bay where they would be murdered and their cargos stolen.

Not that the Crow was likely to attract much attention, especially in light of her lowly status and battered appearance. Originally commissioned as a freighter, she had filled many roles since then and had suffered in the process. She was Corellian-built, though - faster than she looked, and armed to the teeth - just right for the sort of jobs the Alliance a.s.signed to its network of agents.

Jan frowned, bit her lower lip, and killed forward motion. The globeshaped drone-s.h.i.+p rose like a bubble from the bottom of the sea. Repulsors strobed the darkness below as lights circled its vast midsection. Static crackled over the c.o.c.kpit speakers as the other vessel climbed and cleared the nearby towers. Lightning stabbed a distant tower, causing the view screen to darken.

Jan checked her sensors, peered into the night, and eased the s.h.i.+p forward. The Rebel agent hadn't gone more than a hundred meters before a formation of three s.h.i.+ps hurtled past. Turbulence threw the Crow sideways, and Jan fought for control. A voice blasted her ears. ”This ain't no parking lot. Fly it or park it.”

The s.h.i.+ps, two TIE fighters and a TIE bomber, were gone before Jan could reply. The imperials - and there was no shortage - were as arrogant as ever. The Empire might be on the ropes somewhere, but there was no evidence of it in the vertical city. Fighting them, and what they represented, had consumed most of her life, a life that would have come to a premature end on Rebel-occupied asteroid AX-456 had anyone but Cadet Leader Kyle Katarn led the raid to recapture it.

Kyle's act of mercy and their subsequent friends.h.i.+p had formed the basis of a successful partners.h.i.+p, one in which he always found new ways to get into trouble - and she to bail him out. When she was allowed to, that is ....

The trip to Nar Shaddaa served as an excellent example. Jan had opposed the idea and believed she had talked Kyle out of it only to discover that he had gone without her. What would she find? Some crusty remains? A full-fledged firefight? Or the little boy ”why worry about me?” act? There was no way to know. Kyle was good at any number of things, but teamwork wasn't one of them.

A remote-controlled landing drone appeared, ordered Jan to follow, and drew her toward the public landing platforms. Lights strobed, and she followed it in.

Kyle pulled a small comm set from his hip pocket, put the plug in his ear, and heard a clicking sound. It grew weaker when he turned right and stronger when he angled to the left. 88 and the tracker that had attached itself to his leg were on the move. There was a steady flow of foot traffic, and the Rebel shouldered his way through.

A Twi'lek pa.s.sed by his robes s.h.i.+mmering as he argued with an Ithorian herd merchant.

There was no way to know who or what rode in the heavily curtained sedan chair, only that he, she, or it must have been heavy, judging from the construction droids chosen to support the load.

An Imperial officer appeared, his rank hidden beneath a cloak, closely followed by his Commando bodyguards. Kyle felt his stomach muscles tighten and allowed his hand to stray toward the cross-draw holster at his waist. The vertical city recognized no authority save its own, and the Empire wanted him for desertion, treason, murder, and other crimes too numerous to mention.

Kyle b.u.mped into a long-nosed Kubaz, ignored the invective directed at his back, and pa.s.sed a bank of turbolifts.

The clicking lost some of its urgency. The Rebel did an about-face, forced his way onto an already packed platform, and felt his stomach do a somersault as it surged upward. Where was 88 headed, anyway? There was no way to be sure, but the launch platforms were up above, and that suggested a s.h.i.+p. Once 88 was gone, it would be next to impossible to recover the disk.

The clicking grew louder and settled into an unbroken tone. The droid was close, very close, yet beyond his reach. The agent swore under his breath as the platform coasted to a stop and paused while a female Whiphid stumped aboard. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the turbolift resumed its journey.

Kyle waited for the words ”Launch Deck Three” to appear on the entry arch and jumped when they did. The tracker was so loud that Kyle removed the receiver from his ear. The tiny comlink made an excellent subst.i.tute. There was no way to tell if Jan was in the vicinity. But he would hear when and if she called. The Rebel craned his neck, saw his quarry disappear through a circular portal, and hurried to intercept.

8t88 had composed five different lies to account for his failure. Which would Jerec believe? The droid wondered as he stepped through a portal and descended a short flight of stairs. He was forced to pause. The clones were human, wore little more than rags, and were linked by short lengths of chain. They were miserable creatures with even less freedom than the average droid. A Gamorrean guard issued a steady stream of grunts, snorts, and burping noises. The prisoners kept their eyes on the deck.

While 8t88 waited for the slaves to pa.s.s, the brighter of his two bodyguards, a heavily muscled specimen who went by the name of Grentho, saw something and bent to examine it. The tracker clung stubbornly at first, popped free, and tried to escape. The human clamped the scorpion-shaped device between a heavily callused thumb and a nic-i-tain-stained forefinger. ”Hey, boss! Look what I found on your leg!”

8t88 recognized the tiny machine instantly, instructed the bodyguard to destroy it, and took a quick look around. Kyle Katarn appeared as if on cue, moving to intercept.

The tracker squealed as Grentho ended its mechanical life. Windblown grit peppered 88's alloy skin. Klaxons sounded as an Imperial shuttle invaded the bay. Like most of his kind, 88 liked precision. The fact that the s.h.i.+p was on schedule pleased him. Various kinds of comm units had been incorporated into the droid's body and he used one of them to make contact with the pilot. ”Punctuality is a virtue, Lieutenant. I shall see that your superiors hear of it. There's no need to land. Just lower the ramp.”

The shuttle roared obediently and moved in over the ramp. Kyle drew his weapon, made the leap to the platform below, and yelled over the noise. ”What? Leaving so soon?”

Sparks flew as the ramp touched the deck. 8t88 felt a sudden desire to taunt the human. He removed the disk from a storage compartment and waved it over his head. ”Is this what you want? Come and get it!”

The bodyguards were reaching for their weapons when Kyle fired. The energy bolt removed 88's arm with almost surgical precision. The droid watched in disbelieving horror as the now-severed limb cartwheeled through the air, spewing hydraulic fluid in every direction, and clanged on the deck.

Kyle watched the arm roll to the edge of the platform, wobble, and disappear. The disk, still contained within the droid's tightly clenched fist, went along for the ride.

8t88 grabbed for his stump, located the arterylike tube, and pinched it off. A stormtrooper appeared, wrapped an arm around 88's midsection, and helped the droid up the ramp. The walkway cleared the platform and started to retract.

An energy bolt blipped past Kyle's shoulder, grazed a pa.s.sing Weequav, and scorched the bulkhead beyond. The none-too-intelligent creature roared his outrage, swung his pike at a group of Bith sand artists, and triggered a stampede.

Kyle fired in return. Grentho threw his arms out as if to welcome a friend and toppled over backward. Smoke eddied from the hole in his chest.

The second bodyguard fared better at first. She made it onto the ramp and was headed for the lock when a stormtrooper shot her in the face. She tumbled backward, fell off the ramp, and smashed into the platform below.

The shuttle rose on brightly flaring repulsors, turned, and headed away. Kyle took a parting shot, saw movement from the corner of his eye, and dived for cover. He was flying through the air, wis.h.i.+ng that the deck was made of something softer than durasteel, when blaster fire scorched the platform behind him. The shuttle was clear, and an Imperial TIE bomber had been dispatched to even the score. The platform smashed into his chest, and he struggled to breathe.

All Kyle could do was watch as the TIE bomber rose - and swiveled in his direction. There was no place to hide. The Rebel stared into the laser cannon and waited for them to blink coherent light. He was still waiting when cannon fire struck the bomber from behind. It staggered and drifted into a wall. The resulting explosion lit the area, triggered various alarms, and activated the tower's emergency response systems.

Wall-mounted nozzles covered the wreckage with foam as rescue, medical, and hazmat droids walked, rolled, and, in one case, slithered to the rescue.

Still another s.h.i.+p descended into view, and Kyle, who was determined to go down fighting, lifted his weapon. He was about to fire when he recognized the s.h.i.+p's beaklike bow. Though not especially pretty, the Crow was a welcome sight. Jan was worried, relieved, and angry -all at the same time. ”You're always in trouble!”

The Rebel holstered his weapon. ”Not after you bail me out.”

The pilot grinned in spite of herself. ”I saw the vultures gathering over something and figured it might be you. How would you manage without me?”

Kyle scanned the still-smoking debris. ”Perish the thought. I wouldn't last long, that's for sure.”

c.o.c.kpit alarms started to sound, and Jan checked her screens. ”More company on the way. Jump on the ramp, and we'll make a run for it.”

Kyle shook his head. ”Thanks, but no thanks. Meet me at the top! The disk fell off the platform. I'm going after it.”

Jan wanted to ask, ”What disk?” Wanted to find out what made it so important. But she knew Kyle wouldn't take the time to tell her. Darn him, anyway. He was brave to the point of recklessness and eternally out to prove himself even when the tests were over - first, at the Imperial Military Academy, and later within the Alliance, where his long list of accomplishments was credential enough, or should have been.

All of this and more pa.s.sed through Jan's mind in the twinkling of an eye. Someday there would be time to talk - but not now. a.s.suming they lived that long. ”Roger that - be careful. I'll see you at the top.”

The Crow spun on her axis, paused, and moved away.