Chapter Eight:
Luke was beginning to wonder if he was just lucky enough— as Han would have said— to pull this gig off without too many hitches when a shout sounded behind them. Luke craned his neck to find a trio of armed men racing their way. They had been walking at a steady pace for a solid five minutes, and Arica's breathing was not within Luke's comfort zone.
"Time to move faster," he said, turning toward Arica.
Before she could protest, he picked her up and was now dashing away. She opened her mouth to rage at him, but caught sight of the men trailing them and snapped it shut again. Luke felt a warning in the Force, and ducked as the men began to shoot at him.
It was only a tiny bit of a relief that they were shooting to stun, not kill, as Luke knew he'd be in for a wallop of trouble if they caught him. And he didn't want to think of what they would do to Arica.
He opened himself to the Force, dodging their incoming fire: left, then right, then right again. Pedestrians along the walkway scrambled out of his way even as Luke strove to weave a path through their numbers. But it seemed the guards from Garris's company didn't care about hitting innocent bystanders.
Luke put on a burst of speed in the Force, and ducked into a deserted alleyway. Once he was deep within he stopped, carefully setting Arica down behind a dumpster and turning around. The men were just ducking around the corner, weapons still raised as they approached determinedly to where Luke waited in the dark end of the open air corridor.
"Give us the wench, and you can go on your way," the lead man said. He was smoking a pipe casually, the thick smoke clouding his face whenever he gave a puff.
"You really expect me to believe that?" Luke replied brusquely.
"What happens to our property is our business, not yours." The man shot back.
Luke felt a flash if indignation swell through him, and he tempered it. "This woman is not anyone's property, no matter if a kill-chip sits in her neck. No one should be forced to give sexual favors like that."
Pipe, as Luke dubbed him, laughed caustically. "You are a saint, aren't you?"
Luke shook his head. "No, just a man: but thank you for the compliment."
The man sneered contemptuously. "Give it up, Treg… if that's even your name. The wench comes with us now, or we kill you and then take her back."
The trio was now only a few paces away, and well out of sight of the alley's mouth. Luke shifted his weight, prepared to fight. The men saw this and laughed openly at him.
"You're outnumbered and outgunned." Pipe remarked scornfully. "You don't stand a chance with an injured wench to help you."
Luke waited for the right moment, trusting the Force to lead him. "I'll take my chances."
The other man shrugged. "It's your funeral Bub."
He signaled to his other men, and they fanned out as much as the alley would allow while their point man took aim at Luke. When he fired his shot, Luke was already in a different place, having sensed where the man would shoot.
With a surprised shout, the man took aim again but Luke dodged still, moving fluidly. His attacker snarled and shouted to his men.
"Take him down!"
Three blasters took shots at him, and Luke gave himself over to the Force. Time seemed to slow for Luke, and he felt as though he were an action-holo actor, dodging slow-moving lasers at leisure. His body twisted, ducked, and swerved in an intricate dance, moving faster than the men's' eyes could follow until he stood just before their leader.
As he'd predicted, the other two stopped firing to avoid hitting Pipe. Luke slapped the man's blaster aside and drove a heel down on Pipe's toes. He yelped, even as Luke stepped in to land an elbow to his ribs.
Pipe caught Luke about the wrist of his free hand, using Luke's position against him. Pipe shoved Luke face-first into the wall, slamming the butt of his weapon into Luke's right shoulder.
Luke jerked in pain, feeling it down to his toes.
"Get the female!" Pipe barked at his henchmen, who nodded to each other and strode confidently toward Arica.
Luke used Pipe's split attention against him, snapping his head back into the man's face. Pipe screamed as blood spurted, splattering the back of Luke's neck. He spun, grabbed Pipe by the arm, and yanked him forward to slam into the wall.
The other man rebounded horribly, and fell with a sickly thud to the pavement. Luke pulled out his blaster and aimed for the remaining men. The first saw this and ducked Luke's shot, returning fire.
Luke dove behind the first spot of cover he could find, which was behind a stack of crates… and nearly jumped out of his skin to find Arica emerge from the shadows.
"How'd you get over here?" he asked her.
She gestured to the dumpster, which had a small amount of space between it and the wall: just enough for someone to crawl through.
"Oh. Good thinking." Luke ducked as blasterfire zinged by over the crates, and then leaned out to return fire.
Luke heard a yell, and then spotted one man looking down the narrow escape corridor Arica had used. Luke bit back a curse, taking a shot at him, and the man took cover behind the dumpster.
As for the man still in the open, he continued to lay down suppression fire, even as he moved to where Luke would be exposed. The Jedi sensed a warning in the Force, and jerked Arica down flat just as a blast blew by where her head had been seconds earlier.
The distraction provided by Arica's attacker allowed Luke's to move faster, and now he was staring straight at the Jedi. Gritting his teeth, Luke used the Force to jerk the blaster from the man's grasp, feeling as he did so a brief pressure on his left boot.
His attacker dove after his weapon, which allowed Luke to move as well. The two men ended up in a jousting charge; Luke held out one arm to clothesline his hit-man, and the guy went down with a crack of his head.
"Look out!" Arica called.
Luke spun in time to see the final man spring from his cover and charge Luke in a rage. Luke readied himself for the attack, wondering why the man didn't just shoot him. But the guy never made it.
Halfway there, a glint of light off hard metal shone, and then there was a knife in the man's chest. His eyes went wide with shock, while his momentum carried him staggering to Luke's feet, where he at last crumpled with his final breath.
Luke stared in shock, seeing the hilt of his own vibro-dagger sticking out of the man's body.
He glanced at his left boot, recalling the pressure, and then lifted his gaze to meet Arica's. She lay slouched against the wall now, but there was a hard glint to her eye just then.
"Did you throw that?" he asked in awe.
"Yes," she whispered, gesturing him forward. "Grab the knife so they can't I.D us, and let's go."
Luke nodded, knowing she was correct. He collected the knife, wiped it off on the dead man's clothes, and picked her up again. He sprinted for the mouth of the alley and then stopped to cautiously peer both ways.
He saw no one else, and so stepped out to rejoin the foot traffic; keeping his head low and using the Force to hide both their identities.
00000
"We've got their holos out to every port authority on this side of town, Sir."
Garris nodded, his face hard as he accepted the bit of news from his head of security. "That's good, Rogg."
"If they show up, they'll be stopped." Rogg went on to assure him.
"I want them alive, Rogg," Garris warned. "I will have my revenge. That woman will die slowly and painfully while the man watches."
"Yes sir." Rogg acknowledged.
00000
Luke didn't believe in luck per-se, but he didn't want to jinx their good fortune of having made it to the hangar without further tails. Yet something was niggling the back if his mind, a sensation of being watched without a source to locate.
His nerves were crawling when he at long last stepped inside the small hangar he'd docked in. It was quiet, almost too much so. Luke sent out a Force probe, checking the area before crossing the open hangar floor. He'd be vulnerable out there, especially with Arica unable to walk well.
When nothing immediate set off his senses, he took a few tentative steps forward. He was halfway to his ship when the danger sense in the back of his head blared into a klaxon. Luke glanced behind him to see a collection of hangar security men coming his way at a quick jog.
Luke sprinted the remaining distance, and then set Arica down. "Get it open!"
"Hold up there!" the deck officer called.
"What's the code?" Arica asked as he turned to face the men, calling his lightsaber to his hand from a hidden pocket in his pant leg.
"Seven-nine-zero-eight-five!" Luke called as the men opened fire.
Luke ignited his lightsaber with a snap-hiss, its emerald blade moving to deftly deflect the men's' shots away from Arica and himself. He felt her shock at his weapon, followed by a brief surge of something he couldn't identify.
But she was professional enough to open the hatch as he'd requested. She staggered up the ramp, Luke following backwards while he continued to repel the attacks. Arica raised the ramp again, and as soon as the blasterfire cut off, Luke grabbed Arica into his arms and sprinted for the cockpit.
"Get strapped in!" he told her as he set her in the copilots' chair.
00000
Mara did a double take when she noticed the lights were already green, indicating the ship was ready for takeoff. How had he managed that? Was he that proficient in the Force?
She jumped when a series of tootles and whistles emitted from her left, and Mara only then saw the silver and blue astromech droid. He was nestled in his alcove, obviously having readied the ship for departure… or more than likely keeping it warm per Treg's orders.
He'd probably planned for just this sort of an exit.
Mara frowned, recognizing the droid, but her thoughts were interrupted by Treg talking to his metal companion.
"Artoo, did you get the door's codes?" Treg asked.
An affirmative bleep from the astromech was all the man needed, and he lifted the ship from the deck, ignoring the men outside. The hangar doors trundled open, and Treg nursed the throttle until the gap was barely wide enough to admit them.
They shot from the hangar at a reckless speed, causing Mara to grip the seat's armrests in a white-knuckled grip. Treg expertly avoided hitting the nearby skyscrapers even as the security forces gave pursuit.
He wove among the buildings, hugging their curves to shave off seconds. They wove among the air traffic, swerving to avoid near-collisions that made Mara tense in terror.
And all the while Treg pulled for atmosphere.
Mara tried to steady her pounding heart, and found to her surprise that she was actually enjoying herself more than she'd thought. Treg was obviously an ace pilot, as he was giving the security forces a run for their money.
A few hits were scored on their aft shields, but Treg didn't relent his crazy flight, and soon they were clear of all buildings. Mara watched as the filthy skies of Nar Shaddaa became the clear vacuum of space.
Artoo squealed a warning just as a thicker white blast shot by… narrowly avoided when Treg jinked hard to port.
"Ion blasts!" Treg grated. "Artoo, how are shields?"
"Dooeep, treetle weet," the droid responded, and she noticed the man only glance briefly at the display. He evidently understood his droid more than she did.
"Okay, keep the rear shields at maximum capacity." Treg ordered as he again evaded more blasts.
Another affirmative beep from the droid, and then Treg's hands were flying over the navicomputer.
"Artoo, set a random jump to shake these guys if they try following us," Treg instructed.
Mara listened to the pair working together as would age-old friends; marveling at how efficiently they worked. She had never been allowed to work with any one person long enough to form such a bond, as she had been a solo agent.
The few times she actually had been ordered to work with a partner, she had nearly gone crazy. Mara had found that she preferred to work alone: it meant she didn't have to seek her partner's approval for anything.
She heard the droid whistle to the pilot, who nodded that he'd heard. Mara watched the stars outside the viewport whirl as Treg took the shuttle into a steep, spiraling climb. He straightened out, checked the navicomputer, and then shoved the hyperspace levers forward.
Stars stretched into starlines, and he sat back with a sigh. It was only a few minutes later when the shuttle reverted to realspace, and Treg took them through a second random jump before finally imputing the actual coordinates into the navicomputer.
Treg slumped wearily into the pilot's seat, running a hand through is hair.
Mara observed him quietly, feeling his exhaustion mirror her own. Finally the silence grew too heavy for her.
"Nice flying," she commented.
He shot her a sheepish grin, shrugging it off. "Thanks."
Mara smirked at his response and leaned into her seat, thanking the Force for finally getting her away from that hell-hole Garris had placed her in.
00000
Garris slammed an angry fist on his desk, having just dismissed Rogg after the man delivered the bad news.
He should have know something was up when that fellow came in, and now his blindness had cost him a wench!
Garris thought about placing a bounty on the couple's head, but he realized he didn't even know their real identities, which only made him fume harder. The man had obviously played Garris for a gullible fool, and his identity was no doubt a forgery.
Blast it! If I ever see those two again, they will die agonizing deaths!
Still…
Pursing his lips, Garris decided to place a bounty on their heads just in case luck decided to favor him.