The sun had set hours ago, leaving only harsh artificial lights and their shadows—good for an ambush, terrible for a chase.
Shae Vizla sparked her jetpack, but it sputtered and didn't ignite. Broken or burnt out, it was done. She cursed. Twice now, Gauss—a recruiter for the most dangerous people in the galaxy—had slipped through her fingers. Once on Taris, where she learned that limitless credits could buy you a ticket into a no-fly zone after a chemical spill, and once on Hutt-controlled Darvannis, where an unexpected squad of well-equipped guards kept Gauss out of reach. That was when Shae decided she needed a new plan.
Now she was running across rooftops in the slums of the Duros Sector on Nar Shaddaa. A place so unplanned, mashed together, and chaotic that, with the right paint job, you could hide an Imperial Cruiser in a back...
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