She tumbled down, flipping to land in the middle of the Drengir’s remains. She killed her blade, wiping mud from the hilt before slipping it back into its holster. Slowly, she pried the vines from around her wrist, careful not to get scratched. It wasn’t over, that she knew from reports she had intercepted back and forth from Starlight Beacon. Cut a Drengir down and it would regenerate. All it needed was one tiny scrap of its former self. But Ty had promised the Safrifans they would be free of the thing and would be good to her word, another old lesson from Caratoo, even if he hadn’t believed it himself.

Now came the hard work, hacking the dormant Drengir into strips, hanging them from the branches of the nearest tree, and then waiting for them to dry out enough to catch light. She probably had enough fuel in the microflamer in her belt to start a small bonfire. That would be enough, until every scrap was burned.

The harvest was hers.

The walk back to the marsh-farm took longer than Ty wanted, especially stinking of charred Drengir. She had recorded the blaze on a holo, evidence of the kill now that the body was gone. The farmers were waiting for her, relief on their faces and their meager offering still in its malligator purse. But that’s not all that was waiting for her. Ty’s hand dropped to her lightsaber when she spotted the spacecraft next to her own ship. A figure swept down its ramp, as tall as the Safrifans were short. Ty recognized the species—a Kuranu with their smooth light-purple skin and large pupil-less eyes. The newcomer was female, wearing a pristine flight suit, a small spherical droid hovering at her elbow. The unit served only one purpose, to deliver an anti-bac solution into the Kuranu’s palm whenever required. The species had almost a pathological fear of germs, which explained the look of disgust that she tried to suppress as she took in Ty’s swamp-encrusted outfit.

“You are Ty Yorrick,” she finally stated, “the so-called Saber for Hire.” Her tone was blunt and to the point, as functional as the tight smile she flashed in greeting.

“It depends who’s asking.”

“My name is Mantessa Chekkat.”

Ty glanced over at the small ship. “Looks like you’ve come a long way.”

“I have,” Chekkat acknowledged. “Looking for you. I was hoping that you could help me.”

And the cycle began again.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Beneath the Golamaran ice flats