Jenna’s arm went rigid against Malik’s. “Shouldn’t we contact the garrison?” she whispered. Her voice was hoarse, subdued, as if she was on the verge of tears and only just holding it together. Malik didn’t blame her. He was a trained warrior, but even he was reeling from seeing Jenna’s aide and his team mown down in cold blood.
“It’s not safe,” he replied tersely, glancing around him as he walked, steering her through the crowd. “They’ll be stirred up like sand-stingers right now … I’d prefer to get you back to the shuttle … and off Aura Terminal.”
They kept walking. The aroma of roasting nuts, blended with incense from streetside shrines, wafted over the street, and the chatter of excited voices rose and fell around them.
Malik frowned. News of what had happened in that plaza was rippling through Aura Terminal with frightening speed.
“However, before we return to the spaceport, I need to get us some kind of camouflage.” He gestured to their blood, dust, and sweat-stained clothing, which was drawing looks from passersby. “We’re attracting too much attention.”
Jenna’s throat bobbed, before she nodded, accepting his plan. Malik hoped that if they moved fast, they could escape on the shuttle. The pilots would still be onboard; the pair of them would be residing on the shuttle during the negotiations.
They had to reach their ship.
Halfway along the street, Malik pulled Jenna toward a clothing store crammed next to a shrine to Aura. An elderly human male knelt before the statue of the deity, murmuring a prayer as he lit a candle at the feet of the Goddess of Prosperity.
Malik’s mouth thinned as they moved past. Aura wasn’t much good to them right now. Instead, he could do with protection from Jidea, Goddess of Fortune. Reaching up, his hand pressed briefly against the amulet he wore around his neck—a reminder to the goddess that they could do with her blessing.
A short while later, Malik and Jenna emerged wearing matching deep-green hooded cloaks. Malik had tossed his helmet and plate-armor aside—they were too distinctive—although he kept his close-fitting body-armor on under the cloak. Jenna had lost her suitcase during the attack, yet she still carried her bag slung across her front. She’d dug into it for some hard credits to pay for their new clothing. The cloak was long enough to cover her golden robes, with a deep cowl that shadowed her face. Malik would have preferred a better disguise than just donning cloaks, but it would have to do.
Farther along the street, they entered a transpod station, where a brightly lit underground passage led to a row of platforms. Climbing the stairs and stepping out onto a crowded platform, Malik spied grey-clad figures sporting laser-rifles, on patrol.
His pulse quickened. Jenna’s earlier suggestion wasn’t a foolish one—theycouldgo to the Aura garrison for help. However, Malik had just thrown a pyro-grenade into an upper-side plaza, causing extensive damage. Even though, as a diplomat’s bodyguard, he was permitted to be armed, they wouldn’t have expected him to carry something so dangerous. The garrison wouldn’t be happy with him at all.
No, it was best they stuck to his plan and got off Aura Terminal. They needed to catch a transpod before one of those guards spied them.
Jenna squeezed his arm, letting him know she’d seen them too.
A pod arrived then, and they stepped aboard. The doors whispered closed, and they were off, beginning the long journey back down to the spaceport.
Seated next to Jenna near the front doors, Malik glanced her way occasionally during the journey. He couldn’t see her face, although he could feel the tension vibrating off her. They didn’t speak for the duration of the trip—instead, Malik kept a close eye on the surrounding passengers, and who was getting on at each stop—but when they finally exited the transpod, he leaned close to Jenna. “Walk slowly,” he murmured. “Before we head through the gate, I need to make sure it’s safe.”
Jenna nodded.
Grateful that she was letting him do his job without interference, Malik guided her out of the transpod station and into the spaceport terminal.
If anything, it was even busier in here than when they’d arrived. However, the crowds worked to their advantage. As earlier, grey-clad members of the Aura Garrison lined the vast green space, their helmed gazes surveying the throng.
Malik led Jenna into the terminal, and they did a slow circuit, weaving in and out of seats and crowds of travelers waiting for the next passenger liner to depart. Moving close to the viewing platform that looked out over the landing bay, Malik’s gaze swept the docking area, traveling over ground staff and droids to where the gleaming ambassadorial shuttle sat.
However, the moment his attention rested on the ship, his stomach clenched.
Bright orange tape covered the door of the shuttle, and a pair of grey-clad guards stood in front of it.
“Shit,” he muttered. “They’ve impounded your ship … we won’t be getting off Aura that way.”
Panic beat in Jenna’s breast. The sense of disconnection that had settled over her since they’d narrowly escaped death shattered. Once again, she felt hunted.
“Come on.” Her bodyguard turned from the window. “We need to get out of here.”
“Wait,” she gasped, reaching out and grabbing his arm. “There has to be another way … what about a passenger liner?”
Her bodyguard halted, his hooded face turning toward the queue of passengers that had formed at one of the gates. They were about to board. “We can’t travel on our IDs,” he said, stepping close to her and lowering his voice. “The garrison will stop us from boarding.”
“Why are you so worried about them?” she hissed back. “They’re the good guys, aren’t they?”
“They are … but they’re upset right now and will have a lot of questions for us. I just set off a pyro-grenade, after all.” He paused then, his gaze boring into her. “Besides, once we’re in custody, your husband will know exactly where we are. What if they hand you over to him?”
Pulse roaring in her ears, Jenna considered his words. “They wouldn’t do that … would they? I’ve got diplomatic immunity, anyway.”
