Apparently the pilot feels confident that he can complete the transfer to Millennium Falcon without suffering too much internal damage or...

perishing in the attempt." Han threw the droid a wide-eyed look.

"Perishing?"

"Certainly the odds are against him. If he were piloting a speeder bike, perhaps. But swoops are notorious for going out of control at the slightest provocation!" Han nodded grimly. A former swoop racer, he knew that C-3PO was right. Taking in the situation now, he wondered if even he could make the jump.

"I'm going to the bottom!" he shouted. C-3PO canted his golden head.

"Sir?" Han made a downward motion.

"The bottom of the ramp."

"Sir, I have a bad feeling..." The wind drowned out the rest of the droid's words. Han crabbed down to the base of the ramp, where he could hear the Falcon's belly turret slicing through the agitated peaks of the waves. A distinctive throbbing sound captured his attention. The swoop was beginning to angle for the ramp. The pilot-a Jenet, of all species-took his right hand off the handgrips just long enough to signal Han with a wave. Considering that even that slight movement sent the swoop into a wobble, there was simply no way the Jenet would be able to let go completely-especially not with the Falcon adding to the turbulence of the sea itself. Han reconsidered, then swung around to C-3PO.

"Threepio, tell Leia we're going with Plan B!" The droid raised his hands to his head in distress.

"Captain Solo, just the sound of that makes me worry!"Han raised his forefinger.

"Just tell Leia, Threepio. She'll understand."

"Plan B?"

"That was precisely my reaction," C-3PO said in an agitated voice.

"But does anyone ever listen to my concerns?"

"Don't worry, Threepio, I'm sure Han knows what he's doing."

"That is hardly a comforting thought, Princess." Leia swung back to the console and allowed her eyes to roam over the instruments. Plan B, she mused. What can Han have in mind? She placed him squarely in her thoughts, then smiled in sudden revelation. Of course... Her hands slid switches while she studied the displays. Then she sat away from the console in contemplation. Yes, she decided at last, she supposed it could be done-though it would mean relying largely on the att.i.tude and braking thrusters, and hoping that they didn't stall or fail. She looked over her shoulder at C-3PO, who had evidently followed her every move and manipulation.

"Tell Han I've got everything worked out."

"Oh, dear," the droid said, turning and exiting the c.o.c.kpit.

"Oh, dear." The four coralskippers were closing fast, lobbing plasma missiles into the bl.u.s.tery stretch of water between the swoop and the freighter. Thorsh dipped his head instinctively as one fireball plunged into the waves not ten meters away. The ferocity of the impact geysered superheated water high into the air, and sent the swoop into a sustained wobble. The freighter held to its course regardless, its top gunner keeping the coralskippers at bay with bursts of laserfire. A human male was crouched at the base of the landing ramp, his left arm wrapped around one of the telescoping hydraulic struts, and the fingers of his right hand making a gesture that on some worlds implied craziness on the part of its recipient. Just now, the twirling gesture meant something else entirely-though craziness was still a large part of it.Thorsh swallowed hard, just thinking about what the pilots were about to attempt. The human waved and scurried back up the ramp. Decelerating slightly, Thorsh fell in behind the freighter, giving it wide berth.

Above the strained throbbing of the swoop's repulsorlift, he heard the sudden reverberation of the YT-1300's retro - and att.i.tude thrusters.

Then, scarcely surrendering momentum, the freighter began to rotate ninety degrees to starboard, bringing the boarding ramp almost directly in front of the tottering swoop.

"Take the jump!" Han said, mostly to himself.

"Now!" He was back in the pilot's chair, his hands tight on the control yoke, while Leia feathered the thrusters, cheating the Falcon through its quarter turn. Flying sideways, Han could see the coralskippers that had a second earlier been "behind" the ship, as well as the swoop, which was flying just off the blunt tip of the starboard docking arm. Hoping to minimize the chances of the pilot's overshooting his mark and smashing headlong into the bulkhead at the top of the ramp, Han adjusted the Falcon's forward speed to match that of the swoop.

"He's accelerating!" Leia said.

"Threepio! Meewalh!" Han yelled over his right shoulder.

"Our guest's coming aboard!" Glancing out the right side of the viewport, he saw the Jenet leap the swoop toward the ramp-the Falcon's narrow but open mouth.

"Now!" he told Leia. Deftly she fed power to the att.i.tude thrusters, allowing the ship to complete a full clockwise rotation, even as a series of crashing sounds were echoing their way into the c.o.c.kpit from the ring corridor. Han winced and scrunched his shoulders with each clang! and crash!, mentally a.s.sessing the damage, but keeping his fingers crossed that the Jenet pilot was faring better than the interior of the docking arm. No sooner did the ramp telltale on the console flash red-indicating that the docking arm had sealed tight-than Han yanked back on the control yoke, and the Falcon clawed its way into Selvaris's open sky, dodging volleys of molten fire from pursuing coralskippers. The quad laser replied with packets of cohesive light, brilliant green even against the backdrop of the heaving sea.

"Captain Solo, he's alive!" C-3PO called with dramatic relief.

"We're all alive!" Exhaling slowly, Han sank back into the seat, but without lifting his hands from the yoke. The coralskippers were already lagging behind when the Falcon rocketed over the summit of the volcano, straight through dense clouds of gritty smoke, climbing rapidly on a column of blue energy. The ship was halfway to starlight when the shaken Jenet appeared at the c.o.c.kpit hatchway, one bare arm drapped over Meewalh's shoulders, the other around C-3PO's.

"You must have a hard head," Han said. Grinning faintly, Leia looked at her husband.

"He's not the only one." Han glanced at her in false chagrin, then nodded his chin to the female Noghri.

"Take our guest to the forward cabin and provide him with whatever he needs."

"I'll get the medpac," Leia said, leaving her chair. She set her headset on the console and looked at Han again.

"Well, you did it."

"We," Han amended. Casually, he stretched out his arms.

"You know, you're never too old for this sort of thing."

"You haven't outgrown it, that's for sure." He studied her.

"What, you have?" She placed her right hand on his cheek.

"You're a danger to yourself and everyone around you. But I do love you, Han." He smiled broadly as Leia hurried from the c.o.c.kpit.

FOUR.

In a leafy bower that supplied the only pool of shade in the prison yard, Yuuzhan Vong commander Malik Carr permitted himself to be fanned by two reptoid Chazrach whose coral seed implants bulged from their foreheads. Exceedingly tall, and thinner than most of his peers, Carr wore a bone-white skirt and patterned headcloth, the ta.s.sels of which were braided into his long hair, forming a tail that reached his waist.

His glory days as a warrior were evidenced by the tattoos and scarifications that adorned his face and torso, though the most recent of them revealed for all to see that he had once held a more lofty rank.

Even so, the prison guards were unfailing in the deference they showed him, out of respect for his steadfast devotion to the warrior caste, and to Yun-Yammka, the G.o.d of war. Moving briskly and in anger, Subaltern S'yito approached the bower and snapped his fists to the opposite shoulders in salute.

"Commander, the prisoners are awakening." Carr looked over to the center of the yard, where Major Cracken, Captain Page, and some fifty other officers sat on their haunches, their hands secured behind them to wooden stakes that had been driven into the soft ground. Indeed, eyelids were fluttering; heads were nodding and swaying; lips were smacking in thirst. Selvaris's suns were almost directly overhead, and heat rose from the glaring sand in shimmering waves. Sweat had plastered the prisoners'

soiled clothing to their scrawny bodies. It fell in fat drops from unshaved faces and matted fur. Carr pushed himself upright and stepped into the unforgiving light, S'yito and a dozen warriors flanking him as he crossed the yard and stood with his hands on his hips in front of Cracken and Page. A priest joined him there, black head to toe with dried blood. Carr refrained from speaking until he was satisfied that the two prisoners were attentive and aware of their circ.u.mstance.

"I trust you enjoyed your naps," he began.

"But look how long you've slept." He raised his face to the sky, pressing the inner edge of his right hand to his sloping forehead.

"It is already midday." He clasped his hands behind him and paced in front of the prisoners.

"As soon as our sentinel beetles alerted us to the fact that some of you were outside the walls, I ordered that sensislugs be placed in all dormitories. It is never an agreeable experience to awaken from their sleep-inducing exhalations. The headaches, the nausea, the irritated nasal membranes... But I take some comfort in a.s.suming that each of you luxuriated in pleasant dreams." Stopping in front of bearded Page, he allowed some of his anger to show.

"There will come a time when even your dreams won't provide you with escape, and you will look back on your days here as blissful." On first learning of the predawn escape, Carr had nearly hung a tkun around his neck and prodded the living garrote to choke off his life. It was because of his failure at Fondor, more than three years earlier, that he had been demoted to the rank of commander and placed in charge of a prisoner-of-war camp at the remote edge of the invasion corridor. Worse, on distant Yuuzhan'tar, his former peers-Nas Choka, Eminence Harrar, Nom Anor-had been escalated and made members of Supreme Overlord Shimrra's court. The prospect of further indignity had filled Carr with such self-loathing that he wasn't sure he could go on. Ultimately, however, he decided that if he was careful-and if he could keep Warmaster Nas Choka from hearing of the escape, or at the very least maintain that it was part of his plan to obtain information on local resistance groups-he might yet be released from the prison fate had fashioned for him. Toward that end, he had been relieved to learn that the search parties he had dispatched had been partially successful. Two escapees had been killed, and a third had been captured. But a fourth had been whisked offworld by an enemy gunship. Carr turned to S'yito.

"Fetch the prisoner." S'yito and two other warriors saluted and rushed off to the front gate. When they returned a moment later, they were dragging behind them a near-naked Bith, who, from the look of him, had fallen victim to a lav peq web. It pleased Carr no end to see expressions of surprised dismay flare on the faces of Page, Cracken, and the rest-even when those expressions were quickly transformed to scowls of hatred for the warriors who dropped the captive unceremoniously onto his face in the sand. Carr stood over the Bith, whose hairless cranium was scratched and bleeding, and whose arms and legs were shackled.

"This one," Carr began, "along with three others who failed to survive..." Deliberately, he let his words trail off, if only to observe the effect of the lie on the a.s.sembled prisoners.

"Well," he started again, "it's a pity, isn't it? So much effort expended for so little gain.

Still, I can't help but be impressed. A well-engineered escape tunnel, carefully concealed flying machines... It's almost enough to make me forget what cowards you were for allowing yourselves to be captured in the first place." He caught Page's eye and returned the stocky captain's glower.

"You sicken me. You bring your spouses, your mates, your sp.a.w.n with you into battle. You yield rather than fight to the last. You are crippled, yet you display no shame. You persist, but without clear purpose." He gestured to the Bith.

"At least this one showed that he still retains some shred of courage. " Carr began to pace again.

"But I admit to a certain curiosity. From what I know of the Bith species, he probably could have sustained himself in the jungle, subsisting on the natural foodstuffs I have permitted to be brought inside these walls. The question is, why would he choose to endanger the rest of you by his show of disobedience? It can only be that all of you conspired in his escape, perhaps to deliver a message of some import. Was such the case here?" Carr waved his hand in dismissal.

"We'll return to that shortly. Beforehand, those who were truly responsible must be punished." He looked hard at Cracken and Page, then swung to S'yito.

"Subaltern, order your warriors to form two rows. The smaller in one row; the taller in the other." S'yito relayed the order in Yuuzhan Vong, and the warriors obeyed.

"Now," Carr continued, "the smaller warriors will execute the larger." S'yito saluted, then nodded gravely to the warriors. Those sentenced neither protested nor defended themselves as they were run through with coufees or struck with amphistaffs. One by one, they collapsed, their black blood draining into the sand. Tonguelike ngdins oozed from niches in the yorik coral walls to sop up what the porous ground didn't absorb. Carr waited for the creatures to finish their work before striding over to the Bith and lowering himself to one knee.

"After the act of courage you displayed, it would pain me to condemn you to an artless death. Why not escalate yourself in the last moments of your life by telling me why you tried to escape? Don't force me to extract the truth from you."

"Go ahead, Clak'dor," Pash Cracken said.

"Tell them what you know!"

"He was following orders," Page added, gazing at Carr.

"If you want to punish someone, punish us." Carr almost grinned.

"In due time, Captain. But I suspect that if you know what this one knows, you would have been the one to escape." He walked back to the bower. From beneath the seat, he pulled out the tkun he had nearly draped over his own neck that morning. Carrying the thick-bodied biot to the Bith, he arranged it around the prisoner's thin neck.

"This is a tkun," he explained for the benefit of the captives.

"Normally it is a docile creature. When provoked, however, it registers its displeasure by coiling itself around the object on which it rests. Allow me to demonstrate..." Carr prodded the tkun with his sharp forefinger. Page and the others cursed and struggled in vain against their bindings. The Bith began to gasp for air.Carr watched dispa.s.sionately.

"Unfortunately, the tkun cannot be persuaded to relax its grip once it has begun to contract. It has to be killed." Again he kneeled alongside the Bith.

"Tell me why you were so desperate to leave this wonderful home we've provided for you. Recite the information you carry." The Bith c.o.c.ked his head to the side and spat at Carr.

"Not unexpected," Carr said, wiping his face. Again he prodded the tkun, which contracted its body. The Bith's black eyes bulged; his wrinkled face and dome of a head turned color.

"I will gladly kill the tkun, if you tell me what I wish to know."

The Bith crawled forward, then flopped on the sand like a fish out of water. Carr poked the tkun a third time. A rasp issued from the Bith's throat; then he began to recite a formulaic series of numbers. Interested suddenly, Carr bent down to place his ear next to the Bith's lips. He glanced up at the priest.

"What is this?"

"A calculation of some sort. A mathematical equation, perhaps."

"There it is," Page shouted.

"He told you. Now kill that blasted thing before it's too late!"

Carr firmed his scarred lips.

"Yes, he's telling me something-but what?" The Bith repeated the formula.

"Is it a code?" Carr asked him.

"Listen to your commanders. You've already been a hero. You've no further need to prove your dedication." All color drained from the Bith's head, and a prolonged rattle escaped his puckered mouth. Carr shook his head back and forth, as if in sadness. He drew a coufee from the belt that cinched his skirt and plunged it into the tkun, which straightened briefly, then died. Standing up, he looked directly at Page.

"Your comrade appears to have taken your secret to his grave." Page had murder in his eye, but Carr only shrugged and turned to S'yito.

"Escort the prisoners to the immolation pit where we incinerated their infernal machines. Fill it to the top, and make certain that they remain inside until midday tomorrow. We'll let Selvaris's suns sort out which of them are worthy of continued life." A brigade of guards hurried into the yard. Carr waited in the shade for the prisoners to be hoisted to their feet. Then he followed the procession through the prison gate to the pit where the dozens of droids had been slagged.

"Subaltern, it's obvious that our captives had help engineering the escape," Carr said.

"Take a complement of warriors and execute everyone in the surrounding villages." S'yito saluted and trotted back through the bone gate. Captain Page insisted on being the first to walk the wooden plank that extended out over the deep hole.

"A moment, Captain," Carr said, from the edge of the pit.

"I offer you a final chance to pa.s.s this night on a bed of leaves rather than atop the skeletons of your droids." Page snorted.

"I'd sooner die." Carr nodded pensively.

"You'll die soon enough in any case." Without another word Page dropped into darkness. Carr turned away from the pit and set out for his grashal. A code, he told himself. He was certain of that much. But, deciphered, what information would it reveal? He gazed at the blinding sky, wondering where the rescue ship was bound.

FIVE.

Proximity alarms hooted insistently in the c.o.c.kpit of the Millennium Falcon. Irritated by the distraction, Han muted the speakers, while Leia concentrated on making certain that the ship steered clear of the cause of the alarms.

"Seismics?" Han asked. Leia shook her head.

"Hapan pulse-gravity interdiction mines. The latest thing." Seen through the curved viewport, the explosive devices might have been asteroids, basking in starlight. The Falcon's scanners had said differently, though they had only reinforced Han and Leia's initial hunch. Beyond the rocky field appeared the bright side of a brown-and-blue world, circled by satellites and gifted with two fair-sized moons.

"Guess you can't be too careful nowadays," Han said.