"So I changed the pickup time."

"And Aunt Nell..."

"Doesn't know a thing."

Boo was astonished. "The kid set this up? I'm impressed.

Great cousin you got here, Deen. Though it would've been nice if she'd gotten the techs here sooner."

"Sorry, Boo, I, uh, sort of forgot to change their orders," said Shannon. "How long 'till we can jump?"

"We've just cleared tractor beam range-let me get past that one drive craft... Aw, no, I don't believe it!"

"What?" asked Shannon.

"See ahead? That's the real barge driver 36DD, come to pick up the generator."

"You sure?" asked Deen.

The comm light flashed. "Unknown Driver," said the controller, "return to dock immediately."

The three Rebels looked at each other.

"Keep going," said Deen.

"Repeat," said the controller, "unknown Driver, return your barge to dock and you will not be harmed."

"Yeah, right," muttered Boo.

The Imperial drive craft positioned itself between the Rebels and the spacelane.

"Get around it!" said Shannon.

"How?" said Boo. "The Long Run ain't no snub-fighter linked to a loaded barge, it moves like a drunken Hutt..."

"What's its shield tolerance like?" asked Deen, pointing out the viewport, where at least a dozen TIE fighters were converging on them.

"Oh, beautiful," said Boo, "I knew this was too easy."

The comm light blinked again. "Unidentified Driver," said a familiar female voice, "this is Senior Controller Voorson with your final warning. Reverse your heading and return to dock 42, or our security forces will open fire."

"Lovely," Boo muttered. "Deen, take the guns. Blast anything between us and freedom."

"Wait," said Deen, "I have an idea-Shannon, follow my lead," he said, slapping the comm panel.

"Controller Voorson," he said, "call off your attack. We have your daughter." He nudged Shannon.

"Mom, Mom, it's me! Don't shoot!" she said.

The comm panel was silent.

"You think that'll stop 'em?" Shannon asked.

Laser blasts bounced off the driver's shields.

"There's your answer," said Boo. "Take the guns, Deen!"

Deen hit the firing buttons. The small turbolasers managed to hit two oncoming TIEs, and three more were disabled by flying debris. Deen kept firing.

"Rebel Driver," said Nell Voorson, her voice touched with panic, "turn back now. Security will not permit you to escape."

"We ain't askin' for permission!" shouted Boo, continuing to plow forward. A TIE's solar panel clipped their shields; the TIE flew apart, colliding with one of its fellows.

"Boo, the shields are gonna go any second," said Deen, still blasting at their attackers.

"Rebel barge driver," said Nell Voorson, "this is pointless.

Stop now or be destroyed..."

"Sorry, Auntie, there's no going back now!" said Boo.

"Rebel... Deen!" Nell pleaded. "Deen, think of what you're doing-think of Shannon - - Security won't listen to me!" she shouted, "they won't let you go! "

"I'm sorry, Aunt Nell," Deen began.

"Watch the TIEs!" Boo warned; the stream of tiny fighters continued to pour at them.

"We're gonna hit that driver!" Shannon cried as the Imperial barge 36DD loomed before them.

"Not if they're smarter than we are," said Boo.

Deen bit his lip and Shannon covered her eyes as the drivers converged.

Nell Voorson's voice continued to beg for' sanity over the comm panel.

A bead of sweat rolled down Boo's face. "I don't think they're gonna .

At the last moment, the Imperial driver ducked beneath the Long Run.

Their shields brushed, buckled, and collapsed as they zoomed past the other ship and into clear space. Four laser bolts from four different TIEs burst past the Long Run just as Boo pulled the jump levers; all three Rebels held their breath as the starlines merged into the blur of hyperspace.

"Are we safe now, Boo, are we safe?" asked Shannon.

"Depends on two things," said Boo. "First, whether or not your mother called ahead to Venir or Renegg for Interdictors..."

"And whether or not we hit somebody," Deen finished.

Shannon crept into her cousin's lap and laid her head on his shoulder.

All three Rebels remained tense, silent, waiting for either a fatal crash or a jerk out of hyperspace into Imperial custody.

The minutes dragged on. Shannon realized that, whether she lived or died, she would never see her parents again; she began to cry. Deen held her close, wiping her tears and rocking her.

"Hey," said Boo softly, "it's been 30 minutes. We're clear."

"We're away?" said Shannon.

Boo nodded. "Free and clear, kid welcome to the Alliance."

"Little Bit," said Deen, "I'm sorry I got you into this..."

"I'm not," said Shannon, putting on a smile. "Come on, now, Deen-let's go slay some dragons."

Do No Harm

by Erin Endore

It all seemed pretty straightforward the day I was called into Commander Briessen's office. "Temporary detached duty," he called it. Naturally I wondered what kind of detached duty a hospital-ship medic warranted, but I didn't have to wonder very long-only until Lieutenant Haslam showed up: I have to say he didn't look like a topnotch commando.

A couple of centimeters taller than I, light brown hair thinning on top, pale blue eyes, roundish face, slender build; he looked like an accountant. But everyone in the Rebellion knew his reputation by then..What could he possibly want with me?

I found out in short order. Gebnerret Vibrion, the political head of another Rebel cell, had been captured by the Imps and was undergoing interrogation on Selnesh, a notorious prison planet in the Irishi Sector. He knew too much to be left in custody; he had to be either broken out or killed quickly. Okay, I could understand that. I hadn't been with the Rebellion very long, but even I knew that given enough time, anyone could and would break under interrogation: physical torture, drugs, threats to loved ones-everyone has a breaking point.

So where did a medic come into the picture? It turned out Vibrion was a rather elderly human male with Zithrom's syndrome, a kidney problem requiring him to take continuous doses of Clondex in order to stay alive. It was a pretty sure bet the Imps wouldn't be taking tender care of his medical problems. Even worse, before he died he'd go into delirium.

And who knew what secrets he'd give away then?

So I reported to the mission briefing with no small amount of apprehension. I hadn't joined the Rebellion for a life of adventure; I'd signed on to save lives. (Skies, that sounds pompous. It's more accurate to say I'd signed on for a steady job doing what I'm good at, for the benefit of the Good Guys.) I felt even more out of place when I met the other team members, commandos all: Melenna, a tiny, cheerful, exquisitely beautiful woman with a cap of loose golden curls and the coldest blue eyes I've ever seen; Gowan, a big dark guy, definitely the strong silent type; Enkhet, a tall, skinny, pale kid whose appearance fairly screamed "slicer"; Liak, a (relatively) small Wookiee with long golden-brown fur and an almost palpable aura of calm about him; and Haslam, regarding us all with his coolly analytical gaze.

"The plan," he said after a long moment, "is to get in, get Vibrion, and get out as quietly as possible. We're not going to take down the Interrogation Center; we're not going to slaughter Imps; we're not out for glory. We're gonna get Vibrion. Period."

His tone of voice was making me uneasy. "Get him in what sense?"

I asked.

"In whatever sense we have to," Haslam replied calmly, "If we can evacuate him, fine. If we can't, we can give him a quicker and easier death than the Imps will, and we can keep him from talking. Have you got a problem with that, Doctor Leith?" He stressed the title just a little.

Actually, I did. I could see his point: burdened with a nonambulatory rescuee, there was almost no chance the team would make it out intact.

On the other hand, I was a doctor, and my job was to do everything I could to save my patient. I kept my mouth shut for the moment, but the twisting sensation in the pit of my stomach was picking up considerably.

"So," he addressed the others. "Basic very-dumb-orphan scoop-and-run-you've done it a hundred times.

We infiltrate the center incognito-Melenna, Liak, you're the prisoners; standard smugglers-suspected-of-Rebel-sympathies scenario.

Gowan and Enkhet are storm-trooper guards, I'm the officer in charge.

Aurin-" he turned to me, "you'll have to be another prisoner. You're taking passage with Melenna and Liak to Sestooine, you've been picked up by mistake, and you don't know anything about anything. Just keep your mouth shut and you'll do fine. How much equipment will you need to bring?"

Luckily I'd had the foresight to think this out ahead of time. "I can manage with one medpac," I replied a little shortly. "I'll need to pack it with extra Clondex and some special equipment."

"Good. We'll get to the prison sector, find out where he is, then get rid of the guards and break into his cell.

Once we get in, your job is to get him alert and moving quickly if at all possible. If you can't, we'll have to... break out without him." The others nodded casually; I had the feeling his hesitation was entirely for my benefit.

"Once he's up, we get back to the shuttle. For this part, we'll take the repair access tunnels." He touched a button on the tabletop console, and a holographic schematic of an Imperial-style installation leaped out of the center of the table; another adjustment, and a series of passages were outlined in red. The route from the prison cells to the docking bays was long, tortuous, and confusing.

Melenna chuckled. "This is where Liak comes in. His people are tree-dwellers; he can find his way through any strange maze of branches with never a wrong turn. For some reason it works on space stations as well. We don't understand it, but we don't argue with it."

"The tractor beam's just a single," Haslam continued.

"Weak design-says they don't think anyone can escape.

Gowan, you'll break into the main computer and disengage it while our medic here is fixing Vibrion. At full power and with some of Enkhet's fancy ship-handling, we should be able to break free long enough to make the jump to hyperspace. Questions?"

If anyone else had any, they weren't admitting it; the only response was a series of crisp nods from the other team members. I had one, and it was bothering me enough that I didn't even react to the interesting fact that Gowan and not Enkhet was the computer jock.

Haslam looked at me sharply, but only said, "Okay, dismissed.

We'll meet outside the shuttle at 0600 tomorrow, bay 36.

Get some sleep, everyone. Aurin, stay a moment, please."

Once we were alone, I said, "You left something out of the briefing.

What if I can't get him moving? I don't think you mean for us to just go off and leave him alive. Who gets to do the dirty deed?"

"Frankly, I'd rather have a medical droid along," Has-lam said coolly.

"Put a glitch in its programming, and it does exactly what the mission calls for and it doesn't develop any moral scruples at the last minute.

Unfortunately, Emdees are expensive. Human medics are a lot cheaper and easier to replace."

"Nice to know I'm expendable," I murmured under my breath.

Haslam ignored the comment, but after a moment some of the coldness faded from his face, leaving a look of almost-helplessness.

"Aurin, I don't get any thrill out of killing. I've got a job to do here, just like you. The fact is, we can't leave him to die at the hands of the Imperials, or of his disease.