Star Wars_ Rebel Force 04_ Firefight - Alex Wheeler [17]
A flicker of movement along the water caught his attention. But nothing was there.
Trick of the light, he told himself. Must have been. But he wasn't convinced. "We all want off this planet," Div said, feeling a sudden urgency. "Let's make that a priority, and deal with this—"
" This? " Luke said angrily. "That's what you call it? You attack us for no reason, you make us crash—"
"Hey, slime-suckers like that couldn't 'make' me do anything," Han protested.
" Riiiight," Clea drawled. "You wanted to crash-land on this moldy rock."
"No more or less than you, sweetheart," Han said.
She narrowed her eyes, and her grip tightened around the blaster.
"Clea," Div said quietly. She didn't acknowledge him. But she didn't shoot, either.
"What the shunfa are we waiting for?" Grish growled. "I say we blast this scum.
There's a reward waiting for us. Just because we're stuck here, no reason not to get the job done."
"Enough!" Div snapped.
But it was too late. "Reward?" Luke said. "So someone hired you to come after us?"
"Jabba," Solo muttered in disgust. "I told him he'd have his money soon. Why can't that fat slug just trust me?"
But Div could see that Luke wasn't convinced. "Who was it?" Luke asked Div. "Who wants us dead?"
"That's not your concern," Div told him.
"Then let's start with an easier question," Han said. "Who are you? "
Div shrugged. "What's the difference? All that matters is that we have a job to do. A job that requires us to be in the air," he reminded his allies. "We're pilots, not bounty hunters. Not assassins. We don't stalk our prey on foot and shoot them in the back. We're better than that. I say we work together. Once we're back in space, we do what we were hired to do—best them in a firefight. Up there, where we belong."
"You think we're some kind of laserbrained nerf-herders?" Han asked. "I put this blaster down, what's to stop you from shooting the minute I turn my back?"
"I don't know if you're a laserbrained nerf-herder," Div said, although he had his suspicions. "But I give you my word that we won't harm you, not until we're all back in the air."
"Your word?" Han's mouth puckered. "What good does that do any of us?"
Not much, Div was about to admit, realizing that this was a losing battle. He had nothing to bargain with but his words, and they'd never been worth much. But before he could speak, he spotted Luke's glance flicker toward something on the other side of the room—the same place Div had imagined he'd spotted a shadow in motion. Div followed Luke's gaze and saw nothing. But Luke's face was draining of color. He leaned toward Solo and whispered something, but the older man shrugged him off. Div searched in frustration for some sign of what had made the Rebel turn gray with fear, but there was nothing. It was as if Luke were in a different room, a different world than the rest of them.
What does he know that I don't? Div thought.
Something was naggingly familiar about the way the young Rebel stood, visibly extending the reach of his senses as far as he could, opening himself up to the room. His eyes narrowed and turned toward the pool of black water.
What? Div thought, his stomach twisting with sudden anxiety. What is it about you?
What do you see?
The cold pressure of alloy against his temple snapped his attention back to matters at hand, but it was too late.
"The nerf-herder's right," Clea snarled, her blaster muzzle digging into his forehead.
"They have no reason to trust you. And neither do we."
Div cursed under his breath. It wasn't like him, letting an enemy sneak up on him like that. What good were his lightning reflexes and impeccable instincts if he was going to let himself be so easily distracted? "There's no need for this," he told Clea.
"Either you join us, or you die with them," Clea said. "And you die first."
Div turned to the Chistori, without much hope. "Grish—"
"Choose, human," Grish said. "Or