5/13/23: Edited and chapter order swapped

Chapter 19
…Comes a Good End

Hex paced the landing platform outside Jabba's main hangar, his nerves taut, annoyance barely feigned. Fortuna's half-disguised suspicion gnawed at him. Scratch's delay in delivering the droids, by design though it was, wore on him. Jabba's suspicion was clear—so why was he allowing them access at all? The suspense was intolerable.

His anxiety over Yenzon's safety and his uncertainty about her reliability under pressure only compounded the tension. Her peculiar reaction to Kraytrider's name had convinced Dash she would keep their secrets, but it was not much comfort to Hex—he couldn't shake the feeling that her involvement would lead to complications.

The two men had spent the morning ostentatiously conducting the next part of the audit, and Hex had disciplined himself to work as diligently as though their efforts were genuine. Now they were putting on a show of irritable impatience at an unanticipated delay. Dash glanced up, prompting Hex to stretch his ears. He sighed in relief at the welcome roar of approaching freighter engines.

"What happened?" Hex demanded once the ship landed. "You're almost three hours late and you haven't answered your comm."

"Didn't get any comms, vod," Scratch said placidly. "Had some problems with customs at Herdessa. Thought I could make up the time, so I didn't comm you. Didn't want you to worry. Then I was in hyperspace."

"Problems?" Hex snapped. "We've been moving merch through Herdessa for seven years."

Scratch shrugged. "The Guild's tightening their grip on trade through the system. I finally had to bribe somebody to get departure clearance." He raised a placating hand. "I know, I know. We've got a trade agreement with the Guild. But the more I reminded the dockmaster, the more he insisted the paperwork wasn't valid. You can take it up with the Guild later. I figured with the timeframe so tight, we could absorb the cost of the bribe. Speaking of, we'd better get these unloaded…"

Fortuna insisted on scanning the shipment while Hex made a show of fuming over the delay. Hex waited until the inspectors had cleared the crates to say, "Oh, yeah—we've been invited to the podrace as Jabba's guests. He wants us to monitor the droids on the trip. We'll meet you at the drop off when we're done. Oh—and you better notify Chatter we'll be a little late."

"Lucky you," Scratch said, tone admirably envious. "Why'd you take him instead of me?" He pointed at Dash.

"Get outta here. I don't want to hear it. We've got work to do." Hex summoned Dash and started to walk away. He turned back as if remembering something important. "I almost forgot. The estimate on the equipment we'll need next. Better get started on it—especially if the Guild is reneging on our agreement."

Dash handed Scratch the datapad containing a dummy equipment estimate and the genuine vault code. Then they hurried into the bay, accompanied by Jabba's ever-present droid observer.

Neither Dash nor Hex had seen the interior of the sail barge yet. It was stored (rather inefficiently in Hex's opinion) suspended by cables in the middle of the bay. He had to admit it was, at least, fairly secure from sabotage or theft in that position. The boarding ramp had been extended and they hurried aboard with their cargo. The interior of the barge stank, as did everything in this hellhole, of Hutt drool and unspeakable evil.

Without a word they set to work uncrating the droids. It was a curious fact of this business that where once the sight of droidekas would have sent a shiver of dread through Hex's heart, now he felt a sharp satisfaction. Particularly when he considered what use these droids would be put to.

The initialization process occupied a couple of hours, during which the chaperone droid monitored them closely. Fortunately, since Scratch had already installed the override chips and programmed the detonation coordinates, there was nothing in the startup sequence to provoke suspicion. The override chips were merely a failsafe in case anything happened to the control brain, necessitating remote destruction of the barge. Once the droids had activated, Hex led them in mapping the three decks. By this time, household slaves and droids had begun loading supplies, forcing Hex and his entourage to maneuver around the commotion to the muttered disgust of more than one overseer.

The uppermost deck was a simple matter, even the three steps between the foredeck and the afterdeck presenting no challenge to the droidekas. The middle deck was intended for Jabba and his guests. A galley lay amidships with the main cabin behind it in the stern. Given the size of the passageway beside the galley, it was obvious Jabba would be confined to the main cabin. Hex debated adding a couple of stationary bombs in the aft section, but the escort droid's presence discouraged the idea. A pair of staterooms occupied the space between the galley and the cramped bridge in the prow. Also in the forward section was a small locked room which both the droid and Fortuna refused to open.

Hex adopted the same "It's on your head" expression he had been employing throughout this audit and shrugged before proceeding to the lowest deck, which housed the engine and repulsorlift equipment. The droids that serviced the area ignored them as he and Dash installed the master droid brain near the prow under their escort's watchful visual processors, while the droidekas mapped the cramped deck in turn. The bypass mechanism in the brain was designed so that the droidekas should blow when the barge reached the designated coordinates, regardless of whether they were in active or standby mode. In light of Jabba's distrust, Hex had fresh doubts about this plan, but it was impossible to make adjustments at this point. Fortunately, they had brought a little extra insurance.

Dash was tasked with distributing a number of miniature bombs among the repulsorlift generators and beside the fuel tanks toward the aft of the deck. Each had a tiny receiver and would detonate at the brain's signal. Although the sabotaged droidekas had ample explosive power to destroy the barge, it was impossible to guarantee any of them would be on the lowest deck at the time of detonation. Rapidly igniting the fuel lines was key to ensuring none of the passengers had a chance to escape.

Hex ran the initiation sequence for the brain as Dash pretended a survey of the aft deck. This flustered their droid chaperone considerably. It darted back and forth in an attempt to monitor both of them, protesting all the while.

"All right, all right." Hex's tone was placating. He packed his tools and joined the droid beside the ladder to the upper decks. "No need to get excited, pistonhead. We're on a tight schedule, that's all."

Behind the droid, Dash shook his head slightly, expression apologetic. So he hadn't been able to place all the bombs. Well, it was a pity, but they'd done all they could.

"It's almost 1930. We'd better clear our stuff out." Hex led a final walkthrough, confirming that all slaves and non-GAR/IMP droids had debarked, then collected the shipping crates.

Once the crates were stowed in their speeder, he and Dash took a minute to check their gear. They had come prepared for anything and now Hex was grateful for that foresight. Not only had he stashed an extra case of grenades and bombs in the speeder, but they had also brought rappelling equipment. Just in case Jabba hadn't fallen in with the security audit, necessitating infiltration of the palace by stealth. As they stowed the compact cables and anchors in the compartments in their belts, neither acknowledged explicitly that they would almost certainly be escaping from the barge while it was in motion. Hex stuffed a couple of grenades and miniature bombs in his utility belt.

"My security blanket," he said with a droll air in response to Dash's inquiring look.

"We'll have to stay to the last possible moment. If our absence is discovered, it will cause suspicion."

"I know." Hex grimaced. "But you were there. Jabba wasn't going to let us skip the race. I thought he might lock us up if we didn't agree."

Dash nodded once in agreement. "I checked. Those portholes are large enough for a person, though the shutters snap down pretty quickly."

Hex shrugged. "At least one thing's going our way. I hope we can make a point of not spending most of the time in the main cabin. We can claim we like the pure desert air, or something. Hang out on the top deck. Maybe even escape from there if we're lucky."

From their speeder, they could see two skiffs being readied. They exchanged anxious glances.

"That could be trouble," Dash said.

"Yeah. You didn't use all your supplies, right?"

Dash nodded. They exited the speeder and ambled toward the skiffs. Their escort droid cut them off.

"You are to return to the barge."

Hex lifted his hands. "Okay, okay. We were just professionally interested." They turned to the stairs.

They had timed their return perfectly—or terribly, depending on the point of view: Jabba's hover platform was approaching the barge. Hex greeted him. "We do appreciate the invitation to the race." He nodded into the hangar. "Are you sending a supply run too?"

Jabba guffawed. The translator droid—the only non-GAR/IMP droid allowed on the barge—said, "No. They are extra security provided by the indomitable Jabba. He did not bother with an audit of them. The guards have been personally selected by his Greatness and in the case of a security breach could not do any significant damage to the barge."

"That's good," Hex said as enthusiastically as he could manage. "Well—everything's ready on our end. The droidekas are booted up and running."

Once Jabba was settled in the main cabin, he boomed something in Huttese. It must have meant, "Let the party begin," because immediately the band struck up. The volume of conversation rose in direct proportion. The barge shuddered and jerked into motion. Hex had planted his feet in anticipation. Some of the more impaired members of the party had not had such foresight and tumbled into one another. Judging from the hilarity that ensued, this was a regular feature of these parties.

Dash and Hex exchanged disgusted looks.

"If you don't mind, we'll go back on deck to keep watch," said Hex.

Jabba rumbled jovially. "That is unnecessary," the droid translated. "Your work is finished, unless, of course, your droids malfunction. Until then, you are the guests of the benevolent Jabba. He wishes you to rest and relax. He offers food suitable for humans and an array of alcohol. Spice is available to smoke or drink or inject. Tell Master Bib Fortuna what you wish and he will direct you."

Hex desperately wanted to refuse all of it, but Jabba was suspicious enough already. "I'm hungry—dinner sounds good."

Fortuna directed them to a small alcove where a wide variety of food was spread on tables and shelves. Hex had learned in the past three days not to examine most of it too closely. Or at all. Equipped with plates and ale, he and Dash took up posts near a porthole. Dash reached out to prop one of the shutters open and Hex gratefully inhaled air that was slightly less toxic. Now came the hard part. The waiting.

Over the next three hours, Hex did his best to remain unobtrusive. He envied Dash's skill at fading into the background. Every so often Jabba called out jests in their direction and Hex smiled and joked back. Fortunately, the bounty hunters, thieves, and smugglers who comprised the rest of the guest list were uninterested in pursuing an acquaintance. The setting suns bathed the landscape in a wash of gold and purple. At least the landscape gave him something to look at.

The hours passed at a crawl. Sometime after sunset they reached Mos Eisley and half a dozen additional thugs joined them. To Dash's eyes, there wasn't anything to choose between the newcomers and the rest of the guests. As soon as the boarding ramp had retracted behind the last flunky, the journey resumed. There was no sign of the new heading belowdecks; nevertheless, Dash knew they had begun the long journey west through Slauce Canyon toward Mos Espa. Standing beside the open shutter, he was grateful for the cooler draft as the temperature dropped outside.

One of the moons rose, then a second. The canyon walls gradually widened into a broader vista. The lights of Carnthout and then Bestine appeared to the south before dropping away in their wake. All the while, a skiff, manned by guards scanning the landscape for threats, escorted the barge off its port side. Presumably the other mirrored it on the starboard side. Behind Dash and Hex, the guests, indifferent to the progress of their rolling party, grew ever more riotous.

Although he could not put his finger on the precise threat, Dash's nerves were screaming at him. Something was about to go south. Jabba appeared friendly and overbearing, much as he had presented himself for the past three days; nonetheless, Dash was certain it was as much an act as his own pretense of being a grateful guest.

Reluctantly, he accepted another plate of food at Jabba's urging.

"His Stupendousness remarks that these droidekas make excellent servants. However, they aren't as satisfying as slaves."

Dash tried to smile at Jabba but feared his smile was rather anemic, so he glanced toward the three droidekas currently serving drugs and drinks. The other two were making patrol rounds on the upper deck.

"The jocund Jabba urges you to have more food, and wishes you to know that it is a pity you do not choose to enjoy the other pleasures he offers. Your faces are not the only similarities between you and Boba Fett; he does not drink or take spice either. Perhaps it is something about the Fett line? Yet the splendid Jabba observes that Jango never refused alcohol or girls. He believes it may have been something the longnecks did in the cloning process." The slug's laugh boomed through the room and his sycophants sniggered along with him. The annoying Kowakian monkey lizard leaped through the rafters above the clones' heads, screeching with glee.

Dash inclined his head and checked that his stance was still relaxed. It wouldn't be long now, provided they could allay whatever suspicions Jabba had. Beside him, Hex was stony-faced. The man hadn't done too badly, but it was clear he was no actor. "You'll forgive us, Jabba," said Dash with the most casual air he could muster, "we're simple soldiers and what's more, we're working. We wouldn't be much use to you hung over or high. When we reach Mos Espa safely, maybe we'll accept some moderate alcoholic refreshment."

"His Mightiness will hold you to that, Master Clone. He suggests that it must be a boring party without any diversions."

"We don't mind. Like I said, we're working. We always put business before pleasure. I'm sure you understand—you do the same."

Jabba grabbed an amphibian and spoke around the mouthful, bones crunching audibly. Dash feigned a quick check of the room to avoid having to watch the poor creature's death throes. "The magnificent Jabba agrees that this is so. He jests that you are brothers under the skin."

"Something like that," Dash agreed noncommittally. "I've noticed you have your fingers in a lot of pies. Must be interesting work."

Jabba boomed jovially. "His Weightiness begs to disagree with you. This is not a saying his people employ."

"No doubt. What term do you prefer?" Dash's nerves twisted tighter as the minutes ticked down. Maintaining this ruse was getting more difficult by the second.

"The Hutts say that they grasp many frogs."

Dash chuckled and elbowed Hex, who made an effort to appear amused. They had taken care not to check their chronos often, but it must be less than an hour to detonation.

"The time has come, Master Clones; the sapient Jabba instructs you to show him how to deactivate the droidekas."

"I'm sorry," said Hex in confusion. Was it affected or genuine? "We showed Bib Fortuna and the captain of your guards. Fortuna said this wouldn't interest you."

"His Prodigiousness is interested in how easy it is to tamper with the system."

"Oh." Hex rallied. "It's as secure as the most up-to-date, two-way encryption can make it. In order to execute a command, authentication codes must be entered by two users. In addition, the brain must verify a unique code from the droid." He pulled a remote off his belt. "This controls the brain. It can be set to respond to a security code or to biometric data or both. Without proper authentication, it won't function. It isn't keyed to your biometrics yet, so you'll have to use the code. Switch modes from service to security or the other way." Hex showed Jabba the combination. "Shut down." Another combination. "Activation."

"The colossal Jabba will now take control of the droids, Master Clone, with his own security code."

Hex twisted his lips and spread his hands. "It's a little more involved than that. The new code has to be input directly into the brain. I can go do that if you want, but it's probably better to wait until there aren't so many people around to spy." He smiled winsomely, tension hiding behind amiability. Jabba probably couldn't see it, however—Dash hoped. "This is the one thing you have to be careful of with this system. Anyone with the codes and the remote can control the droids. The failsafe is that the system is set to industry standard to require that two users confirm all actions."

"Then you will show him the current code so he can deactivate these droids."

Hex tilted his chin to one side before giving a little sigh. "All right. It's your show. I am professionally obligated to state it's a bad idea. Your security will be compromised while the droids are shut down."

"The barge is guarded. The droids are merely here on a trial basis. If you offer further resistance, the sagacious Jabba will know you are up to something."

"I'm not resisting. See?" Hex handed the remote to Jabba, who entered the code with surprising dexterity. He gestured imperiously to Fortuna to confirm the action. They issued the command and the two droids on the far side of the cabin froze in place.

"You have surprised the perceptive Jabba, Master Clone. He thought you were planning an attack with the droids."

"Hey! I'm on this boat. You think I'd take that risk? If I wanted to kill you, I'd have done it the day we arrived. I served almost seven years, first in the GAR, later in the Stormtrooper Corps. I faced off against Gunray and Poggle and all the other Seppies. Afterward I spent five years under Lord Vader mopping up dissent. Compared to them, you're a big, soft target. If I wanted you dead, you'd already be dead." Hex had dropped the friendly retired soldier act and looked as dangerous as he actually was. After a moment, he resumed his genial professional persona. "All I want to do is sell some droids and make some money."

"His Shrewdness is amused by your cheek, Master Clone. To show his appreciation, he informs you that you are off duty. He bids you enjoy the party." The translator paused, exuding smugness. "The glorious Jabba has prepared a stimulating surprise for you."

Jabba gestured and the crowd grew more raucous.

Dash and Hex exchanged uncertain glances. The guests were already intoxicated and drugged and gorged. What more could Jabba give them that would provoke such glee? The men were poorly positioned to determine what was causing a new wave of motion near the door.

The crowd parted and Pligu appeared with Yenzon on a chain, her eyes lowered.

Jabba leered.

"His Sensuousness is pleased you enjoyed her company last evening and wishes to know if you still desire her."

Dash's heart sank. There weren't supposed to be any slaves aboard. She must have been in that locked cabin in the prow. Now they had to get her away too. And if he was tracking the time correctly, they only had about half an hour to do it. The dancing master handed her chain to Jabba, who tugged her closer. She went reluctantly but without resistance. The crowd roared lewdly. Dash almost sprang forward to seize the chain, restraining himself with an effort. Rescuing her required subtlety—not flamboyant action, like some Jedi tumbling into the room in a blaze of lightsabers and glory.

Hex had tensed beside him and Dash discreetly nudged him with the elbow that was out of Jabba's direct line of sight. One tiny blessing in Jabba's disgusting assault on Yenzon—his attention was occupied. Dash turned his head slightly and slowly lowered his left eyelid. Hex inhaled sharply. Good. He'd probably play along. Dash pasted a lascivious expression on his face, stepping forward in assumed eagerness.

Jabba looked at him and laughed mockingly.

"You may have her, Master Clone." Dash had never hated the translator's falsely prim voice more. "The slave girl is his favorite today, and the bountiful Jabba will share her with you tonight."

Jabba held out the chain. Dash fumbled for it as if unable to drop his fascinated gaze from the beautiful girl.

The Hutt laughed again. Dash had never heard a sound more depraved. "The bawdy Jabba expects that you saw the staterooms in the forward section. You may take her there." Jabba gestured to Hex. Dash couldn't see the other man behind him but could sense how tautly he was holding himself. "Master Clone Hex as well. His Magnanimity bids you enjoy the rest of the night. He always rewards those who please him." Jabba licked a glob of drool off his lip.

Dash, reluctantly holding the chain, made his way toward the door. His skin crawled. Distantly, he hoped Hex was on their heels. He tightened his hand around the chain. Only a little longer. The crowd pressed around them, jeering and shouting unintelligibly, words whose meaning was nonetheless clear. He focused on breathing and kept his eyes on the exit. Behind him, Yenzon made no sound. His heart ached for the degradation she was suffering. After what seemed an eternity, they reached the corridor.

The hatch of the forward cabin slid open. A large bed was bolted to one wall. There was no other furniture. He glanced at his chrono. Haar'chak! Twenty minutes. He raced to examine the shutters. They were louvered and he looked out briefly, then turned his attention to the frame. Osi'kyr! The shutters were bolted heavily. And hastily. This had been done since their walkthrough.

He whirled toward Hex. "What are we going to do about the droids?"

Hex stared at him. "What?"

"The droids. You deactivated them."

"Oh. Right. No worries. They'll go off when they get the signal."

Thank the ancestors for small mercies. Yenzon stood where he had dropped the chain. She had looked up at last, eyes filled with fear but without tears. Her breath came fast and uneven. Dash gestured Hex over to the shutters. The other man pulled a manual wrench off his belt and began wrestling with the bolts. Unfortunately, Dash had no tools on him, let alone something that could attack the heavy-duty bolts. He approached Yenzon.

"It will be all right," he told her softly. "We still won't hurt you."

She worried her lip, dark eyes apprehensive. "I know. It's—" she swallowed heavily and tried again. "He—Jabba…" She worked her hands. "He's going to kill you," she whispered. "They asked me about you—I didn't tell them anything! I swear! But later I overheard him telling Pligu—"

At that instant the door burst open and a pair of inebriated guests staggered in. Dash was in motion before he had consciously registered Yenzon's words, yelling to Hex, "I'll deal with it. Get that shutter down."

The Gotal bawled something in Huttese—a ribald comment from the sound of it—and staggered, apparently accidentally, against the door's lock pad. It activated. Dash jumped toward him to release a sizzling uppercut while grabbing his sensitive cone-shaped horn. The Gotal staggered. Dash followed up the first blow with a second that dazed him and sent him staggering into his friend.

Taking advantage of their distraction, Dash snatched the concealed knife from his boot. The attackers were drawing their blasters. Dash pounced to slide the knife between the Gotal's ribs before he could aim. He went limp.

Dash tugged on the knife. The blue-skinned Twi'lek fired at him, grazing his shoulder. He abandoned the knife, grappling with the Twi'lek and scrabbling for the blaster.

The Twi'lek was slightly larger than Dash and shoved hard. The clone hit the bed with the back of his knees. The Twi'lek kicked his feet out from under him. Dash fell back onto the mattress, the other man half on top of him. He stretched to grasp the fellow's blaster, but he lacked the leverage to switch their positions. They struggled interminably until a clunk sounded and the Twi'lek grunted. His grip briefly relaxed.

Dash shoved him off. As he scooted away, Yenzon struck the Twi'lek again with the end of her chain. Blood gushed from a gash on his head. Dash yanked the blaster from his hand. Before he could even aim it, Yenzon had plunged Dash's knife into the Twi'lek's back. Dash stared from his knife to her set face in awe.

She pushed her chin up.

Dash bowed his head in respect. "You were saying Jabba was planning to kill us?" he said ironically, reclaiming his knife and wiping it on the sheet.

"He told Pligu. You must escape. It is many hours to Mos Espa. Jabba will not be fooled for long. He will expect them to report your deaths."

"No problem," said Hex, still wrestling with the bolts.

Dash stowed his knife and checked his chrono. They were down to fifteen minutes. It took over five minutes to get all the bolts off one shutter. Someone knocked heavily on the door. Dash and Hex exchanged concerned looks. Hex peered out of the shutter and swore.

"What?" asked Dash.

"See for yourself."

Dash stared out and cursed as well. The starboard skiff had pulled back beside the barge—and the guards' blasters were aimed at their cabin. Jabba wasn't taking chances with their escape, apparently. Whoever was outside the door pounded louder, calling something in Huttese.

The clones looked at Yenzon. "He asks whether you are dead and demands they open the door."

Hex began rummaging in his belt. "Seven minutes to go, but we're not going to make it past that skiff."

The pounding grew more insistent.

Dash hurried to inspect the lock. It was a standard keypad, meaning an override code would open it from the other side. He fired two shots at the panel and reached in to pull out wires, grateful for the protection his gloves offered. That might hold for a few minutes.

Knocking the Twi'lek's body aside, he tore the sheets off the bed, carving them rapidly with his knife. "All right—time to go. Yenzon, my harness is too big—and you aren't dressed for this. Pardon me." He wrapped the strips of sheets around her shoulders, waist, and hips, rapidly adjusting the rappelling harness to her smaller frame. "I'm going to lower you toward the ground." He handed her the knife. "When the cable runs out, cut it and go toward the front of the barge. Stay between the vessels—the repulsorlifts will kill you if you get underneath them. I'm sorry I can't give you better clothing. Hex. Wrench." The other man tossed the tool and Dash attacked the bolt on her slave collar. Yenzon grunted. "Sorry. I don't have time to be more gentle."

"It doesn't matter," she said softly.

"How are we gonna do this?" Dash asked, squinting through the slats at the guards on the skiff.

Hex fingered two devices. "I'll toss this to distract them. As soon as it goes off, she should climb out. I'll wait five seconds and throw a couple grenades to cover your descent. I'll follow. We'll find shelter and I'll blow the barge."

"Sure," Dash said skeptically. "No problem at all."

Hex ignore the sarcasm. "Ready?"

Dash attached his EM anchor to the hull, then tore the shutter off its hinges. Hex pulled his arm back and hurled whatever he was holding at the skiff. The guards had begun firing the moment the shutter tore away from the barge. The clones ducked out of sight, shooting blindly out the window.

An explosion was followed by a gout of flame erupting behind the guards. As one, they whipped around.

"Go," shouted Hex.

Yenzon clambered onto the broad ledge of the porthole. Dash played out the cable, praying the improvised harness would hold. The rope ran through his hands. When it reached full length, he climbed out, keeping his head below Hex's cover fire. Yenzon's weight below him made it impossible to rappel in the traditional fashion, so he simply let the rope slide through his fingers. He knew the instant she cut herself free because the cable began to sway below him. He kept sliding. A meter and a half above the sand, the cable ran out. He dropped to the ground. Winded, he scrambled in a crouch between the barge and the skiff. By the time he reached the prow, Hex was at his back. They raced ahead, feet slipping and sliding in the sand, and tumbled down a slight depression. An explosion boomed from the skiff.

Yenzon was already at the deepest point of the gulley. The two men shielded her with their bodies and Hex entered a command in his remote. There was a heart-stopping pause as nothing happened. Dash realized he was holding his breath. He pressed a little closer toward the sand. The hollow wasn't much shelter but it was all they had if the barge did blow.

Hex seized his arm and pointed to his ears. Oh, right. Explosion. Dash glanced down; Yenzon already had her hands clapped over her ears. Dash followed suit just in time. The night lit up bright as day as the barge was consumed in a fiery inferno. The blast seemed to go on forever, an unending holocaust of noise and heat and flying debris. The concussion wave knocked Dash off his knees. He fell against Hex and partially on top of Yenzon. The depression they were in was just deep enough that the debris mostly went over them, though they all would have small burns.

When the apocalypse finally subsided, Dash and Hex clawed their way to the ridge of sand above them. Their ears rang. It would be hours before it subsided completely.

The barge was a burning hulk on the sand. Beside it, the skiff burned too. A figure was staggering away. Dash drew his blaster. A bright flash and the figure dropped to the sand. Dash had barely heard the sound of the shot.

The two men staggered around the wreckage. The second skiff raced away toward the west. Even as they watched, laser fire erupted from a rock formation to the north. The skiff veered, but it was too late—another explosion illuminated the night. Scratch and Commander Cody had come through.

Yenzon had come up between them. She gestured at the moons and Dash noticed for the first time how bright the night was. "It's the Grand Assembly," she said in wonder. "I never thought I'd see it." She shivered in the chilly air.

Dash fumbled for his comm. "Chatter."

"Vod. You detonated early."

"Yeah. We know. There was no choice. It looks like we got everyone in spite of it."

"That's good. Scratch said to thank Hex for letting him have a little fun on this mission."

"We'd have been glad to trade with him. Say—think we could hitch a ride?"

"Commander Cody's on his way." Chatter chuckled. "I'd ask for coordinates, but you set off quite a beacon."

"Yeah, yeah—very funny. Dash out."

They were all shivering by the time the commander arrived. "You seem wrung out, Troopers. Rough mission?"

"You could say that, sir," Dash said somberly.

"It's over now. Well done. Hop in."

They didn't reply. Dash rummaged in the cargo area while Hex helped Yenzon into the speeder. She gave a small smile at the heavy blanket he handed her.

When they reached the cliff where the snipers had taken station, Scratch greeted them boisterously. "What a show!" He slapped Hex on the shoulder.

Hex made no response.

"Vod? Is something wrong?"

Hex shook his head wearily.

"What happened? I thought he'd be leaping for joy," he said to Dash.

"It was awful. Jabba deserved everything he got and then some."

Scratch stared beyond them. "You picked up a girl? Somehow I didn't peg you as the type."

"She's a slave." Dash's tone was heavy. "She risked her life for us."

"My respects, ma'am," Commander Cody said. "Welcome aboard. Let's get back to town, then. We have a report to deliver."