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Kaird quickly divested himself of the Kubaz costume, which was useless now that the bolt had grazed it. He rolled to his feet. He was in an apartment that had once been some kind of service vendor—what kind, there was no way to tell. He was just glad it was deserted for the moment.

He’d blown the sanction.

He couldn’t believe what had just occurred. He had botched an assignment! This had never happened before. One didn’t get to work for the biggest and deadliest crime syndicate in the galaxy without being good, and Kaird of Nedij was the best. It was unbelievable. He would have to remedy it, or the only way he’d be going back to Nedij would be as free-floating cosmic dust.

He peered cautiously through the entrance. Being out of the costume had both good and bad features. The advantage was that he was no longer impeded by wearing the blasted thing; even though it was designed to be as comfortable and practical as possible, he was still faster and more accurate out of it.

The disadvantage, of course, was that as a Nediji he stuck out like a sore talon, and Xizor would spot him immediately. Well, there was nothing to be done about that. He’d lost the element of surprise, and it didn’t matter what came at Xizor now; the Falleen would fillet it first and ask questions later. The only difference was that he’d be more enthusiastic about killing Kaird.

Best get to it, then.

It would have to be a full-out attack—there was no way Xizor could be ambushed. Of course, Kaird could slink away with his tail feathers between his legs. He might even escape Xizor’s revenge—for the moment. But was it worth it, to be a fugitive for the rest of his life, either in the dank underbelly of Coruscant or running from planet to planet? He would certainly never see Nedij again. That would be the first place they’d look. And he knew that Xizor was fully capable of bombing his homeworld if he couldn’t have revenge personally on Kaird.

Kark it, he thought. Maybe it’s time to see how the warriors play it.

Kaird burst from his hiding place, racing across the wide esplanade. Besides the dart spitter, the only other weapon he carried was a small hold-out blaster concealed up his left sleeve. He snapped it into his hand as he ran.

Though he was many generations removed from his ancestors who hunted on the wind, his vision was still that of a raptor: keen enough to spot a shifter lizard blending into its background from a hundred meters away. His gaze found Xizor immediately, even though the latter was two levels below him and on the opposite side.

Xizor, Kaird knew, was the scion of a predatory species as well. Like Kaird, his vision scanned both vertically and horizontally with equal facility. He spotted Kaird almost as quickly as Kaird spotted him. He fired repeatedly, the blaster bolts striking the underside of the platform along which the Nediji was running.

Kaird realized his enemy’s strategy too late; the plasteel surface beneath his feet sagged, and then the piece he was standing on cracked and dropped abruptly. Screaming Ugnaughts and Kubaz scrambled frantically, trying to get to safety, and inadvertently blocking Kaird’s attempts to do the same.

He fell. He had time to seriously regret the decision of his ancestors’ genes, millennia ago, to abandon the skies. Then he managed to grab a falling power cable that had torn free from the collapsing platform. He clung to the wrist-thick, insulated shaft just a few centimeters from trailing bare wires that hissed and spat blue sparks in his face.

He managed to turn the fall into more of a swing, adjusting his trajectory toward a specific target. He caught a glimpse of Xizor’s astonished face as he hurtled toward the Falleen. Xizor raised his blaster, but Kaird realized with fierce satisfaction that the prince was too late. Kaird would almost certainly be electrocuted in the next moment, but he would take his enemy with him.

Good enough.

The world erupted in crackling blue flame as he collided, feetfirst, with Prince