Ty threw back a hand, parting the smog like a curtain. Sure enough, the Kuranu girl was ahead of them, shrieking as a Nihil raider tried to pull that damn bangle from her wrist. Breaking into a run, Ty brought up the carbine and fired.

Nothing happened.

Ty squeezed the trigger again, but no bolt brought the Nihil down. The damn thing was out of gas. Never mind. There was more than one way of skinning a tooka.

“Hey!” Ty shouted, her voice coarse from the smoke. The Nihil turned, and Ty flipped the carbine in the air, grabbing its still-warm barrel. She swung hard, and the Nihil’s head snapped around, taking at least two of his vertebrae with it. The impact shattered the blaster, the rusty barrel snapping off in Ty’s hand, but the Nihil was down. Ty gave him a sharp kick just to make sure.

“You’re safe, you’re safe,” Mantessa wheezed, pulling her daughter into an awkward hug. It was clear the pair never usually touched, and Klerin froze, not quite knowing what to do.

“I was looking for you …” the girl said, her eyes streaming, more from the cloud than emotion. “I went to the meeting place and then when I couldn’t find you there, I came to the park. And then, when those ships came in, I didn’t know what to do.”

Ty had been checking the Nihil’s respirator, but now that she had realized it was too big for her, it was time to nip this touching reunion in the bud.

“We need to move,” she told the Kuranu.

“Back to the spaceport?” Mantessa asked.

Ty shook her head sharply. “No.”

The Kuranu looked at her as if she was mad. “But we’ve already found Klerin.”

Ty didn’t have the time or the inclination to admit that she hadn’t been looking for the girl.

“Follow me,” she barked and ran toward the harbor.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

The Arts and Culture zone

“Hurry up! They’re coming!”

Stellan couldn’t protect anyone from the smog now, not if he was going to protect them from the far more pressing threat of rampaging Nihil. Luckily none of the chancellor’s group needed persuading to clamber up the steps to the walker, especially when they were being urged by Conserra’s unparalleled vocal talents.

“Mooove!”

Soh and Yovet had immediately shepherded the Krantian mother and child ahead of them, a selfless act that only seemed to infuriate the Mon Calamari opera singer. Living up to her title, the diva all but barged the Togruta monarch out of the way, but neither queen nor chancellor complained. The slate of rank and privilege had been wiped clean by the choking smoke.