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“I do … but it’s going to cost you.”

Zannah smiled, and tilted her head in acknowledgment. “Of course. Name your price.”

“Go big,” the Rodian chimed in. “Remember, Quano get half.”

Pommat shot his friend a disapproving look before stammering out his opening offer. “Uh … four hundred credits?”

She was in no mood to negotiate. “Deal.” From the crestfallen expression on the smuggler’s face, she knew he was suddenly wishing he had asked for a lot more.

Reaching into her cloak, she produced four hundred-credit chips and handed them over to the young man. “Start talking.”

“Ship’s registered to someone named Zun Haako,” Pommat answered glumly as he flipped two of the chips to Quano and slipped the remaining pair into his pocket.

“Haako’s a Neimoidian name,” Zannah pointed out. “The man I’m looking for is human.”

Pommat shrugged. “Maybe the shuttle’s stolen.”

“I’m starting to think this information isn’t worth what I paid for it.”

“The registered owner might be fake, but the nav data’s real,” the young man assured her. “That ship came from Nal Hutta.”

“You’re certain?”

“No doubt about it.”

“Just out of curiosity,” Zannah asked, “is he carrying a shipment for you?”

“No,” he replied, almost regretfully. “I don’t do any business there. The Hutts don’t like small-timers cutting in on their action, you know?”

“Probably a wise decision.”

Quano barked out a laugh.

“What about my ship?” she asked, keeping her tone light. “Any hidden surprises on board?”

“Nah. You’re the first ship that ever came here from Ciutric,” Pommat replied. “I don’t have any contacts back on your world.

“Unless you’re interested in establishing a more long-term relationship?” he added, leering at her.

Zannah answered by whipping out her lightsaber handle and igniting the red three-quarter-length blades protruding from each end. She moved with the blinding speed of the Force, her first vicious slash severing Pommat’s outstretched arm at the elbow and carving a lethal furrow across his chest while the second cleanly removed Quano’s head from his body. Both were dead before they even had a chance to register an expression of surprise.

The deed done, she shut off her weapon, the twin blades disappearing with a low-pitched hum. She didn’t kill without reason, but once Pommat revealed that he knew she was from Ciutric she had no choice but to eliminate both him and Quano. The Jedi might still come to investigate Medd’s death, and she couldn’t risk having them trace the shuttle back to her and Bane’s estate. She didn’t like loose ends.

Crouching down, she removed the datapad from Pommat’s pocket, along with the credit chips she had given him. Then she did the same with Quano before loading the bodies, along with the dismembered bits, onto a nearby hoversled used to move heavy baggage around the spaceport. If any Jedi did come snooping around she didn’t want to leave any signs that someone with a lightsaber had killed the two men.

Loading the corpses onto her shuttle, she took a last look around to make sure she hadn’t left any witnesses behind. Satisfied, she made her way to the cockpit to prepare for liftoff.

The remains of her victims could be jettisoned into Doan’s sun just before she made the jump to hyperspace, leaving behind no physical evidence that could connect her to the world. After that, it was off to Nal Hutta, though whether she was going to eliminate a rival or recruit an apprentice, Zannah couldn’t say for sure.

8

A soft beep from the console alerted Bane that the Triumph was at last approaching its final destination.

The journey to Prakith had taken longer than he had anticipated. Travel into the Deep Core was always dangerous; the densely packed stars and black holes at the galaxy’s heart created gravity wells capable of warping the space–time continuum. Under such extreme conditions, hyperspace lanes were unstable, shifting or even collapsing without warning.

The last known route to Prakith had collapsed nearly five hundred years ago, and nobody had bothered to plot a new one since. This happened frequently with worlds