He tried his best not to lean on Sumbakiri too much. The Pyke was so thin it was a wonder his bones could support his own weight, let alone Amasr's.
It was the right alley — the one that ran closer to the crater side. They were moving through backyards, falling over fences and stumbling over roots of dead trees. Beyond the buildings, the alley sounded livelier than the last one: Amasr could even hear a speeder or two. A speeder would come in handy… surely they could find one unguarded, with Fardalla's electrum right in the trunk.
Sumbakiri was right, though. The complex on the very top of the crater side was a cargo port. It must have a comlink. Amasr looked at the docking tower again. It couldn't be farther than a kilometer away… but that kilometer was spread over three more worth of winding hovel-ridden streets.
"They've left us alone, right?" the Pyke asked. "They won't come after us. We fight back. That makes us not worth it, right?"
Amasr looked down at him. "They're after you."
"No shit. And here I was guessing which one of us would yield them a better ransom. But we fought them off. I suppose they'll have to scavenge what they can from the cars."
"Did you miss the part when they were shooting at you? They aren't after any ransom."
"Could've been their nerves got the better of them."
"Before the ambush?"
They walked — he limped — in silence for a minute.
"You're right," Sumbakiri broke it. "Only who are these guys?"
"Do you care?"
"I do, matter of fact. I need to know that to know whom to call once we get there." He nodded at the docking tower.
He was right. Amasr knew it, but the heat took any certainty.
"Who do you think they are?" he asked.
"Not Fardalla's, I hope. The Hutt's the only one close enough to get us out of here in a timely manner. I mean, I have no idea who else the hoodlums on his planet can kick up to, but he didn't just whack me in the mansion, did he?"
"Maybe."
"You mean, he might want it to look like he had nothing to do with it?"
In truth, Amasr meant no such thing and no thing at all. He felt like the laser bolt had molten his brain.
"Still," the Pyke said, "he had better opportunities. Could have sent these goons to the mansion… I mean, what's the difference if I get capped in Fardalla's mansion or in his limo? Or hell, he could've hired you to kill me just as easily as to protect me."
The plateau had saved them, as none of their pursuers had proven eager to storm the slope, but now it dragged on and on alongside the crater side. They were increasing the distance from the spaceport at this point, but the alley separated them. And however much the heat and the blasted sun messed up with his perception, Amasr could still hear people moving there, moving and shouting and revving up their speeders. It was the kind of movement that disrupted the pond-like stillness of the air, the kind that promised to spill all over the city, the kind that Amasr was incapable of.
He chose a backyard — just so that he wouldn't have to choose the next one. "We need to get a look at it," he said.
They got closer to the house. This one was one-story, but dilapidated just the same as all the rest of them. No one inside seemed to notice their coming. No one seemed to be inside — whatever was happening in the alley must have been too crucial to sit out.
Along the adobe wall they sneaked to the front yard. The fence around it was broken down in a few places, leaving holes large enough for a Pyke to crawl through.
Amasr crouched. The pain hooked his flesh above and below the wound and pulled on the strings, sobering him up a bit.
He looked through one of the holes. The angle didn't let him see anybody, but he could hear at least half a dozen different voices very close by.
"Screw this shit, man," one was saying, "tomorrow is alright, but today? Nah."
"The more we sit here jerking off, the better they prepare," another answered.
"It ain't our fight," the third one said.
"And the last time was?"
"Should've stayed at home as well. Hell, bewteen the Hutts or the Empire, I see no difference."
"That's what I'm talking about," the second voice responded. "It's our fucking chance to get rid of both."
"Yeah, sure."
"They bit into us like two hawk-bats. Shaking them off is gonna be just as easy."
Laughter followed.
"A hundred years ago, we lived without any Hutts or Empires," the second man said in an almost insulted voice.
"There wasn't any fucking Empires back then, Arim."
"Well, we didn't bow to the Republic, either."
"It only appeared like twenty years ago."
"Whatever. What the hell, boys, we did start—"
The Pyke's poking him in the ribs made Amasr shed the lethargy.
"Look." Sumbakiri's whispers sounded like they were coming from inside Amasr's own skull. "We can get across just fine."
Amasr moved to the hole he had been pointing at. From there, he could see one-two-three-four men standing by a landspeeder with a flames paintjob. At least another one was inside, playing with the starter. They could just sneak past… if there weren't any more thugs around. Hadn't he heard another voice?
He looked again. He could just make out an opening between the houses on the other side of the alley. It looked like it was maybe going up the slope — how far, he could not tell.
Assessing risks felt strange now, yet he still was doing it. They could try another yard and another angle… but he was sure the boys from down below were making their way up right at that moment, and on their feet instead of climbing if Teso and he were lucky. Besides, who knew if other hovels were occupied?
"Let's go," he said. "Quiet."
He had to open the fence door to get through. The speeder stood closer than he'd estimated — maybe four meters away instead of six. The men at it were oblivious to the movement on the side of their alley — for now they were.
The alley went up on Amasr's left. It was wider here than down where it forked off the main one. He saw no one up there, but more voices and more engines could be heard from behind its curve.
He moved forward, keeping his eyes on the men and their speeder. Not a single one of them was facing his direction — but two could spot him with their peripheral vision. The driver, too, if he wasn't so captivated by the console.
Though the alley here was wider, crossing it normally wouldn't take more than a couple of seconds. The speeder hovering diagonally didn't leave much space on either side. But Amasr wasn't crossing it normally: he was wounded, he was overheated, and he had a panicking Pyke in his tow.
The engine sound on the left grew louder, rapidly. Amasr knew the heads turned away would now be turning back. He hit the ground and rolled towards the roadside. It hurt like hell, but he had done right: two airbikes swooped towards the parked speeder. Only a moment later did he see what Sumbakiri was up to: back to where they'd started, hiding by the fence.
He watched the bikers. Like it often happened, they didn't see what they did not expect to see.
"What's the shooting about?" one of them asked.
Now the heads turned.
"Somebody's fighting a good fight," one of the speeder men answered.
"Like hell," the biker said.
Amasr fixed his eyes on the Pyke. After a second, Teso noticed that — must have been looking out for him. Amasr tilted his head towards the direction the bikers had come from. Then he lowered it back beyond the street level.
"Screw that," he heard as he crawled, "yesterday wasn't fun at all. A fucking massacre."
"I heard them Fortsum's boys stuck that casino up in the 5th up."
"Like, ten people got mowed down. My brother-in-law didn't come back. The Hutt's security have guns we can't even imagine."
"We got some, too. The Street Lights brought that 64-H they done stolen two years back."
"Bunch of fartgas, this. They never had it."
"Oh yeah? I heard it not half an hour ago. Tell this fool, lads!"
"That thing? It wasn't no 64-H."
"Sure sounded like one. I remember the sound from the war. Can't mistake it for nothing."
The bikes and their bikers were left behind. Amasr raised his head again. The Pyke straggled in the back on the other side, getting over and through fences and piles of garbage and bricks. Amasr waited for him to get closer.
They needed to start going up towards the cargo port instead of dragging along the crater side. An alley — more of a bowel between two rows of shanties — was branching out and going upslope right where Amasr lay.
He raised his hand. The Pyke kept going for another ten seconds before noticing. Amasr pointed at the side alley. The Pyke pointed up the main one.
There were more people there, Amasr saw them, drinking on their porches or prepping their speeders or their guns or playing their cards, busy but not busy. One of them could spot the Pyke crossing the street, one or two or all of them, or someone Amasr had not even seen, someone up in the houses.
But snaking their way up the alley was no good either. They would get spotted sooner or later. What a meaningless death that would be.
He rose — on the second try. Teso's helm screen glistened in disbelief as Amasr started walking across the alley to him.
It felt like two extra stars targeted him with their radioactive attention. He tried not to gaze left and right once the men there fell off his view.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Teso whispered at him. He was half-cowering, half-springing away.
"Follow me. Walk, don't run."
"Are you crazy?"
"We're too far beyond their lines. They won't know a thing."
They walked back. Amasr was sure somebody must have seen them — but maybe his reasoning was not completely daft.
He fought the desire — the need — to look back once they were in the side alley. He kept walking instead.
This roadlet was nothing if not a promise, leading them up. Amasr knew how promises were, though. He also knew, and this knowledge stemmed from the last, that he should stop and meet his fate. He kept walking instead.
"Still no trace of them," Teso said. "I mean, those fuckers from below."
"Maybe you've gotten a few of them back at the house, after all."
"I didn't know Fardalla paid you to kiss my ass."
"It's probably just another gang's turf."
"Sounds like we're sitting out a sandstorm in a krayt's belly."
"You got a better solution?"
The Pyke chuckled. "Don't you doubt it, my friend," he said, "you will be rewarded well for what you've done. We don't forget anything, bad or good."
"Right now, rewards are the last thing I care for."
"Shit, you're not lying, are you? If they weren't, you'd just have surrendered me to them."
"They didn't ask me to."
"And if they did?" The Pyke chuckled again.
The alley's promise was of the cruel sort — the one that went on for a while. They met several locals on their way up, but other than suspicious gazes, there was no violence exchanged.
"So," Teso said, "you hunt Wookiees, right?"
"I used to. We can't do it anymore."
"Why? Your conscience got the upper hand?"
"Conscience?"
"You know, what with hunting sentient beings."
Amasr stopped. He was surprised he was still capable of rage, that not all of it had been burned out from his body by the Kunjagi star. "I'm not going to take this from a degenerate drug dealer."
"Alright, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to encroach on your traditions."
"Laugh all you want."
"I'm not! I said I'm sorry!"
"Your kind are like cripples to us, no, worse than that."
"As in Pykes?"
"All of you. You don't know what it is. To really live instead of… this."
They went on. The conversation had finally shut the Pyke up, but strangely, it brought Amasr no satisfaction.
The alley led them to a wide street — wide by the local standards, enough for two speeders to pass — going up to the spaceport. The ease of it didn't sit right with him. He tried to convince himself it was because of how open they would be in this street, but neither the convincing part of him nor the convinced liked this explanation.
Upstreet there were broken down barricades, some burned down. Nobody guarded the path now. The port looked dead too. Amasr thought back: he hadn't seen a single ship land or take off while they'd been walking here.
Nobody was in the street but them two. He looked back. It must connect to the one their convoy had been driving up at some point. Maybe they could just go back.
Just as he thought about it, two distant shots ripped through the air. More followed. Could be simply gangs going at each other. Could be the revolution: redux.
The cargo port was quiet. Amasr had known to avoid quiet places on Kashyyyk… but this was not Kashyyyk, and he was not the same Amasr.
"Come on," he told the Pyke, "let's get you to safety."