"How'd you find us so fast?" Han wanted to know.

"I received word of what markings your craft would have, and its estimated time of arrival. I came as soon as the data systems registered your approach. I've been waiting here for some time, with forged field-access authorization. I presume this 'droid is my computer-probe?"

"Sort of," Han answered as Rekkon upped the skimmer's speed to the legal limit, guiding it between rows of berthed barges. "There's another unit built into his chest; that's your baby."

The port was surrounded on every side by ripening grain, showing the ripples of the gentle winds of Orron III. While he glanced about, Han asked, "What're you looking for in Authority computers, Rekkon?"

The man studied him for a moment, then turned back to the controls as he pulled onto a service road. Except for the immediate area of the barges, Han knew the skimmer would have to adhere to authorized routes, and would be intercepted if it flew too high, too fast, or cross-country. Off in the distance, gargantuan robot agricultural machines moved through the crops, capable of planting, cultivating, or harvesting vast tracts of land in a single day.

Rekkon adjusted the polarization of the skimmer's windshield and windows. He didn't make it reflective, or opaque to outside observation, which might have been conspicuous, but darkened it against the sun. The cab's interior dimmed, and Han felt as if he were in one of Sabodor's pet environment globes. As they sped along the service road, cutting between seas of bending grain, Rekkon asked, "Do you know what my mission here has been?"

"Jessa said it was up to you whether or not to tell us. I nearly pa.s.sed up the bargain because of that, but I figured there must be a fair piece of cash involved for this kind of risk."

Rekkon shook his head. "Wrong, Captain Solo. It's a search for missing persons. The group I organized is made up of individuals who've lost friends or relatives under unexplained circ.u.mstances. Same thing's begun to happen with suspicious regularity within the Corporate Sector. I found that a number of others were abroad, as I was, seeking their lost ones. I'd detected a pattern, and so I gathered about me a small group of companions. We infiltrated the Data Center in order to carry out our search, with Jessa's help."

Han tapped his finger on the window, thinking. This explained Jessa's commitment to Rekkon and his group, her determination to see that he got all the required a.s.sistance. Doc's daughter obviously hoped that Rekkon and his bunch, in locating their own lost ones, would turn up her father.

"We've been here for nearly one Standard month," Rekkon continued, "and it's taken me most of that time to find windows of access into their systems, even though I'm rated as a contract computer tech supervisor first cla.s.s. Their security is diligent, but not terribly imaginative."

Han shifted around on his seat to look at the other. "So what's the secret?"

"I won't say just yet; I'd rather be sure and have absolute proof. There is a final correlation of data for which I need a probe; the terminals to which I have access at the Center have governors and security limiters built into them. I lack the resources and parts and time to construct my own device. But I knew Jessa's excellent techs could provide what I needed and thereby decrease the risk of detection."

"Which reminds me, Rekkon. You haven't told us that other very good reason why we should come with you to the Center."

Rekkon looked pained. "You're persistent, Captain. I selected my companions carefully; each of them was close to a lost one, yet-"

Han sat up. "But you've got a traitor in there somewhere." Rekkon stared hard at the pilot. "It wasn't just a guess. Jessa's operation got hit while I was there; an Authority corvette dropped a spread of fighters on us. The chances of them just stumbling onto us, out of all the star systems in the Corporate Sector, are so small they're not even worth talking about. That left a spy, but not one who was there at the time, or the Espos wouldn't have been scouting, they'd have come in force. They must've been checking out a number of solar systems." He leaned back, self-satisfied. He was proud of his chain of logic.

Rekkon's face was a mask cut from jet. "Jessa gave us a contingency list of places where we might be able to contact her if our lines of communication were broken. Plainly, that solar system was one of them."

That surprised Han. Jessa would never ordinarily have trusted anyone with that sort of information. She must be investing all hope of finding her father with Rekkon. "Okay, so you've got somebody who's on two payrolls. Any idea who?"

"None, except that it cannot be either of the two members of my group who have already perished. I believe they discovered who the traitor was. There were indications in the final com-link conversation I had with one of them before she died. And so, of course, I've told no one of your arrival, and came to meet you myself. I wanted your help, to make sure none of them can give the alarm before we depart. I have called each of them to my office, without telling them the others would be there."

Han disliked the idea of going to the Center even more now, but saw it was vital that Rekkon have help, vital to the survival of Han Solo. If the traitor managed to turn in an alarm, chances were that the Falcon would never raise ship again. He made a mental note to bill Jessa and whoever else he could for additional services rendered. He angled around in his seat again. "Who're the other people you recruited for Amateur Night?"

Driving with only part of his attention, Rekkon responded, "My second-in-command is Torm, whose cover role is contract laborer. His family controlled large ranges on Kail, independent landowners under the Authority. There was some sort of dispute over land-use rights and stock prices. Several family members vanished when they wouldn't yield to pressure."

"Who else?"

"Atuarre. She is a female of the Trianii, a feline race. The Trianii had settled a planet on the fringes of Authority s.p.a.ce generations before the Corporate Sector was chartered. When the Authority finally annexed the Trianii colony world recently, they met with resistance. Atuarre's mate disappeared and her cub was taken from her and placed in Authority custody. They must have used some sort of interrogation procedure on the cub, Pakka, for when Atuarre finally managed to rescue him, he could no longer speak. The Authority is no respecter of ages or conventions, you see. Atuarre and Pakka eventually made contact with me; her cover here on Orron III is that of apprentice agronomist."

The service road, winding through the fields, had met a main artery leading toward the Center. The place was a small city unto itself, handling record keeping, computations, and data flow and retrieval for much of the Corporate Sector. It radiated from an operations complex that rose like a glittering confection from the rolling farmland.

Rekkon, lips pursed in thought, wasn't finished. "The last member of our group is Engret, who is scarcely more than a boy, but has a good heart and a kindly temperament. His sister was an outspoken legal scholar, and she too dropped from sight." He was silent for a moment. "There are others abroad searching for their lost ones, and many more, I'm certain, who've been frightened into silence. But perhaps we shall be able to help them, too."

Han half snickered. "No way, Rekkon. I'm just here as part of a trade-off. Save the old school fight songs until I'm clear, got it?"

Rekkon's face was sculpted in amus.e.m.e.nt. "You only do this sort of thing so that you can become a wealthy man?" He eyed Han up and down and went back to his driving, but added, "A callous exterior isn't an uncommon way of protecting ideals, Captain; it hides the idealists from the derision of fools and cowards. But it also immobilizes them, so that, in trying to preserve their ideals, they risk losing them."

What this big, bluff, amiable man had just said carried so much of hit and of miss, insult and compliment, that Han didn't take time to unravel it. "I'm a guy with a hot ship and places to go, Rekkon, so don't let yourself get carried away with the philosophy."

They entered the Center, maneuvering along wide streets between rearing buildings housing the various offices and storage banks, personnel dormitories and recreational areas, shops and commissaries. The traffic was thick-robo-hacks, ground-effect cargo lifters, skimmers, Espo cruisers, and innumerable mechanicals.

Making a final turn, Rekkon entered a subterranean garage and descended more than ten levels. Nosing the skimmer into a vacant spot, he cut the engine and stepped out. Han and Chewbacca followed as Bollux clambered down. The Wookiee and his partner affixed their badges to their chests and vests, respectively. Rekkon slipped out of his coveralls and tool belt and stuffed both into an equipment locker on the skimmer's side. That left him attired in long, flowing robes of bright, geometric patterns. His supervisor's badge was prominent on his broad chest. His feet were shod in comfortable-looking sandals. Han asked him how he'd gotten the skimmer and other equipment.

"Not difficult, once I'd made a partial penetration of the computer systems. A false job-request form, an altered vehicle-allocation slip-those things were elementary."

Chewbacca took up the tool bag again. Bollux, who hadn't had the chance before, now drew himself up before Rekkon. "Jessa has instructed me to place myself and my autonomous computer module completely at your service."

"Thank you-Bollux, isn't it? Your aid will be critical to us." At this, the old 'droid seemed to straighten with pride. Han saw that Rekkon had found the way to Bollux's heart, or rather, to his behavioral circuitry matrix.

The Authority had spared no expense on this Center, and so, rather than to an elevator or shuttle car, it was to a lift chute that Rekkon led them. They stepped into its confluence and, seemingly standing on air, were wafted upward by the chute's field. Two techs drifted into the lift chute on the next level, and conversation among Han's group stopped. The Wookiee, the two men, and the 'droid continued to ascend, with others entering or leaving the field, for another minute and more, rising past garage and service levels, the lower bureaucratic offices, and at last through the levels where data processing and retrieval operations of one kind and another took place. Most pa.s.sengers in the chute wore computer techs' tunics. Occasionally, one would exchange a greeting with Rekkon. Han gathered, from the lack of curiosity he and his companions drew, that it wasn't unusual for a supervisor to have tech a.s.sistants and 'droids in tow.

Rekkon eventually tilted himself, to drift into the disembarkation-flow. Han, Chewbacca, and Bollux followed. They found themselves standing in a large gallery. Here, two floors had been combined, the upper one opening onto a balcony that ran around the gallery's midsection, looking down on the banks of lift and drop chutes.

Rekkon led on, down a hallway of darkly reflective walls, floor, and ceiling. Han caught sight of himself in the tinted mirror of the walls and wondered how he had ever wound up a reckless-eyed predator, contaminating these antiseptic inner domains of the juggernaut Authority. What he did know was that he would much rather have been hotting the Falcon along between the stars, unenc.u.mbered.

Rekkon stopped at a door and covered its lock face with his palm, then stepped through as the door swished open. The others followed him into a s.p.a.cious, high-ceilinged chamber, three walls of which were lined with a complex array of computer terminals, systems monitors, access gear, and related equipment. The fourth wall, opposite the door, a single sheet of transparisteel, gave a commanding view of the bountiful fields of Orron III from one hundred meters up. Han went over and took a bearing on the s.p.a.ceport across the gentle rise and fall of the land. Chewbacca, seating himself by the door on a bench that ran the length of the wall there, laid the tool bag down between his long, hairy feet. He watched the chatter and wink of sophisticated technology with only mild curiosity showing on his face.

Rekkon turned to Bollux. "Now, may I see what it is that you've brought me?"

Han clucked to himself softly, amazed that anyone should be so palsy-walsy with a mere 'droid.

Bollux's plastron opened as the stubby 'droid pulled his long arms back out of the way. The computer-probe's photoreceptor came on. "Hi!" he perked. "I'm Blue Max."

"You certainly are," Rekkon answered in his full, amused ba.s.s. "If your friend here will release you, we'll have a look at you, Max."

Bollux said an unhurried, "Of course, sir." There were minute clicks from his chest, the withdrawal of connector jacks and retaining pins. Rekkon drew the computer forth without trouble. Max was smaller than a voice-writer; he looked unimposing in Rekkon's big hands.

Rekkon's laughter rang. "If you were much smaller, Blue Max, I'd have to throw you back!"

"What's that mean?" Max asked dubiously.

Rekkon crossed to one of several worktables. "Nothing. A joke, Max." The table, a thick slab resting on a single service pillar, was. studded with outlets, connectors, and complex instrumentation. Along its front edge ran an extremely versatile keyboard.

"How would you like to do this, Max?" Rekkon asked. "I have background and programming data to feed you, information on systems-intrusion. Then I'll patch you into the main network."

"Can you feed it in Forb Basic?" Max piped in his high, childish voice, like an eager kid with a new challenge.

"That presents no difficulty; I see you have a five-tine input." Rekkon drew a five-tine plug and line from his table and connected it to Max's side Then he took a data plaque from his robes and inserted it into an aperture in the table, punching up the proper sequence on the keyboard. Max's photoreceptor darkened as the little computer gave his complete attention to the input. Several screens in the room came to life, giving high-speed displays of the information Max was ingesting.

Rekkon joined Han Solo at the window-wall and handed him another plaque, one he'd taken from his worktable. "Here is the new ship's ID for your Waiver. Alter your other doc.u.mentation accordingly, and you should have no further problem with mandatory-performance profiles within the Corporate Sector."

Han bounced the plaque once or twice on his palm, visualizing enough money to wade through with his pants rolled up, then tucked it away.

"The rest of this shouldn't take terribly long," Rekkon explained. "The others in my group are due to show up in short order, and I don't expect someone with Max's brainpower to find this task too difficult. But I'm afraid there's nothing in the way of refreshment around here-an oversight of mine."

Han shrugged. "Rekkon, I didn't stop off to eat, drink, or observe quaint local ceremonies. If you really want to make me dizzy with delight, just wrap it up here as fast as you can." He glanced around the room, with its perplexing lights and racing equations. "Are you honestly a computer expert, or did you get the job on sheer charm?"

Rekkon, hands on lapels, gazed out the window. "I'm a scholar by trade and inclination, Captain. I've studied a good many schools of the mind and disciplines of the body, as well as an array of technologies. I've lost track of my degrees and credentials, but I'm more than qualified to run this entire Center, if that's of any importance. At one point I specialized in organic-inorganic thought interfaces. That notwithstanding, I came here with forged records, playing the part of a supervisor, because I wished to remain inconspicuous. My only desire is to locate my nephew, and the others."

"What makes you think they're here?"

"They're not. But I believe their whereabouts can be discovered here. And when Max over there has helped me do that, by sifting through the general information here, I shall know where I must go."

"You never did get around to mentioning your own lost one," Han reminded him, thinking that he was beginning to sound like Rekkon. The man was infectious.

Rekkon paced to the opposite wall, stopping near Chewbacca. Han came after him, watching the man lost in thought. Rekkon took a seat, and Han did the same. "I raised the boy as if he were my son; he was quite young when his parents died. Not long ago, I was hired as instructor at an Authority university on Kalla. It is a place for higher education, mostly for Authority scions, a school rooted in technical education, commerce, and administration, with minimal stress on the humanities. But there were still some vacancies for a few old crackpots like me, and the pay was more than adequate. As nephew of a university don, the boy was eligible for higher study, and that's where the trouble began. He saw just how oppressive the Authority is, stifling anything that even remotely endangers profit.

"My nephew began to speak out and to encourage others to do the same." Rekkon stroked his dense beard as he thought back on it, "I advised him against doing so, although I knew he was right, but he had the convictions of youth, and I had acquired the timidity of age. Many of the students who listened to the boy had parents highly placed in the Authority; his words could not go unnoticed. It was a painful time, for although I couldn't ask the boy to ignore his conscience, I feared for him. As an ign.o.ble compromise, I decided to resign my post. But before I could do so, my nephew simply disappeared.

"I went to the Security Police, of course. They made an appearance of concern, but it was clear that they had no intention of exerting themselves. I began making inquiries of my own and heard accounts of other disappearances among those who'd inconvenienced the Authority. I'm accustomed to looking for patterns; one wasn't long in emerging.

"Picking carefully-very carefully, I a.s.sure you, Captain!-I gathered a close group of those who'd lost someone, and we began a careful penetration of this Center. Word had come to me of the disappearance of Jessa's father, Doc, as he's called. I approached her, and she agreed to help us."

"All of which leaves us sitting here," Han interrupted, "but why here?"

Rekkon had noticed that the race of characters and ciphers across lighted screens had stopped. Rising to return to Max, he answered. "The disappearances are related. The Authority is attempting to remove those individuals who are most conspicuously against it; it has decided to interpret any natural, sentient individualism as an organized threat. I think the Authority has collected its opponents at some central location that-"

"Let me get this straight," Han broke in. "You think the Authority's gone into the wholesale kidnapping business? Rekkon, you've been staring at the lights and dials too long."

The man didn't look offended. "I doubt that the fact is generally known, even among Authority officials. Who can say how it happened? Some obscure official draws up a contingency proposal; an idle superior takes it seriously. A motivational study crosses the right desk perhaps, or a cost-benefit a.n.a.lysis becomes the pet project of a highly placed exec. But the germ of it was in the Authority all along-power and paranoia. Where no real opposition existed, suspicion supplied one."

As he spoke, he paced back to the worktable, unplugging Max. "That stuff was really interesting," the little computer bubbled.

"Please show a little less enthusiasm," Rekkon entreated, taking Max up from the table. "You give me the feeling I'm contributing to the delinquency of a minor." The computer's photoreceptor zeroed in on him as he continued. "Do you understand everything I've shown you?"

"You bet! Just give me a chance, and I'll prove it."

"I shall. The main event's coming up." Rekkon took Max over to one of the terminals and set him down by it. "You have a standard access adapter?" In reply, a small lid in the computer's side flipped down, and Max extended a short metal appendage. "Good, very good." Rekkon moved Max closer to the terminal. Max inserted his adapter into the disklike receptor there. The receptor and the calibrated dial around it circled around and back as Max accustomed himself to the fine points of the linkup.

"Please begin as soon as you're ready," Rekkon bade Max, and took a seat again between Han and Chewbacca. "He'll have to sift through an enormous amount of data," he told the two partners, "even though he can use the system itself to help him at his work. There are numerous security blocks; it will take even Blue Max awhile to find the right windows."

The Wookiee growled. Both humans understood the expression of Chewbacca's doubt that the information Rekkon wanted would actually be found in the network.

"The location as such won't be there, Chewbacca," Rekkon responded. "What Max will have to do is find it indirectly, just as you must sometimes turn your eyes away to locate a dim star, finding it out of the corner of your eye. Max will a.n.a.lyze logistical records, supply and patrol ship routings, communications flow patterns and navigational logs, plus a number of other things. We'll know where Authority ships have been stopping, and where coded traffic has been heaviest, and how many employees are on payrolls at various installations, and what their job categories are. In time, we'll find out where the Authority is keeping the members of what it has come to believe is a far-flung plot against it."

Rekkon got up again to pace the room briskly, clapping his hands with sounds like solid-projectile rifle shots. "These fools, these execs and their underlings, with their enemies' lists and Espo informers, they're creating just the sort of climate to make their worst fears come real. The prophecy fulfills itself; if we weren't talking about life and death here, it would make a grand joke!"

Han was reclining against the wall, watching Rekkon with a cynical smile. Had the scholar actually thought that people were any different from the Authority execs? Well, anybody who let his guard drop or wasted his time on ideals was in for just the same sort of rude shock Rekkon had gotten, Han thought. And that was why Han Solo had gone and would always go free among the stars.

He yawned elaborately. "Sure, Rekkon, the Authority better watch out. After all, what's it got going for it except a whole Sector's worth of ships, money, manpower, weapons, and equipment? What chance does it have against righteous thoughts and clean hands?"

Rekkon turned his hearty smile on Han. "But look at yourself, Captain. Jessa's communication mentioned a little about you. Just by living your life the way you chose, you've already committed deadly offenses against the Corporate Sector Authority. Oh, I don't look for you to wave a banner of freedom or to mouth plat.i.tudes. But if you think the Authority's the winning side, why aren't you playing its game? The Authority won't meet with disaster because it abuses naive schoolboys and idealistic old scholars. But as it increasingly hampers intractable, hardheaded individualists such as yourself, it will find its real opposition."

Han sighed. "Rekkon, you'd better take it easy; you've got me and Chewie confused with somebody else. We're just driving the bus. We're not the Jedi Knights, or Freedom's Sons."

What Rekkon's rejoinder would have been became academic. The door-lock buzzed just then, and a man's voice at the intercom demanded: "Rekkon! Open this door!"

With a cold feeling in his stomach, Han caught the blaster Chewbacca tossed to him as the Wookiee leveled his bowcaster at the door.

VI.

REKKON interposed himself between Han and Chewbacca and the door. "Kindly put your weapons up, Captain. That is Torm, one of my group. Even if it weren't, would it not have been wiser to find out what was happening before preparing to shoot?"

Han made a sour face. "I happen to like to shoot first, Rekkon. As opposed to shooting second." But he lowered his weapon, and Chewbacca did the same with the bowcaster. Rekkon worked the door controls.

The panel snapped up, revealing a man of about Han's height, but bulkier through the torso, with brawny arms and wide, blunt bands. His face was fine-featured, with high cheekbones and alert, roving eyes of a liquid blue. His hair was a long shock of bright red. His darting eyes found Han and Chewbacca first, as his right hand made a reflexive spasm toward the thigh pouch of his coveralls. But he arrested the motion, turning it into the rubbing of palm against trouser leg on seeing Rekkon. Han didn't blame the man for being skittish at this point, with several of his teammates already dead.

The man's mind worked quickly. "We're leaving?" he was asking, even as he stepped through the door.

"Presently," Rekkon replied, gesturing over to where Blue Max sat linked to the data system. "We'll soon have the data we require. Captain Solo there and his first mate, Chewbacca, will be transporting us offworld when we're ready. Gentlemen, may I present Torm, one of my companions."

Torm, his poise recovered now, inclined his head to the two, then went over to inspect Blue Max. Han followed; someone in this band might be an informer, and he wanted to acquaint himself with each one of them, to do all he could to safeguard himself and his ship.

"Not very impressive, is it?" Torm asked, staring down at Max.

"Not too," Han answered fake-pleasantly.

A nod from Torm. "You think Rekkon'll find what he's looking for?" Han asked. "I mean, this long shot's your only hope of finding your folks, right? Or shouldn't I ask?"

Torm fastened a frank gaze on him. "It is a personal matter, Captain. But since your own safety is at stake, I suppose you're within your rights. Yes, if I can't locate my father and brother in this way, I'll have no idea how to proceed. We've fixed all our hopes on Rekkon's theory." For a moment he glanced over to Rekkon, who was showing Chewbacca features of the room's equipment. "I didn't throw in with him lightly, but when I saw that the Authority was dragging its feet in its investigations, and my own inquiries led me to him, I knew I must commit myself to follow Rekkon's belief."

Torm's voice had drifted as his thoughts had. Now he came back to himself. "It's most unselfish, very admirable of you, Captain Solo, to take on this mission. Not many men would willingly risk-"

"Jet back: you got it all wrong," Han interrupted. "I'm here 'cause I struck a deal, Torm. I'm strictly a businessman. I fly for money and I look out for number one, clear?"

Torm reappraised him. "Quite. Thank you for clarifying that, Captain. I stand corrected."

The door was sounding again. This time, Rekkon admitted two of his co-conspirators. There were Trianii, members of a humanoid species of feline. One was an adult female, trim and supple, who stood just about the height of Han's chin. Her eyes were very large, yellow, with vertical slits of green iris. Her pelt, a varied, striped pattern along her back and sides, lightened to a soft, creamy color on face, throat, and torso front. It tufted out to a thick mane around her head, neck, and shoulders. Behind her curled and swayed a meter of restive tail, mixing the colors of her pelt. She wore the only clothing her species required, a belt at her hips to support loops and pouches for her tools, instruments, and other items. Rekkon introduced this being as Atuarre.

With Atuarre was her cub, Pakka. He was a miniature copy of his mother, standing half her height, but his coloring was darker, and he wasn't as slender or as graceful. He still had some of the fuzzier fur and baby fat of cubhood, but his wide eyes seemed to hold an adult's wisdom and sorrow. Though his mother spoke, Pakka said nothing. Then Han recalled Rekkon's saying the cub had been a mute since enduring Authority custody. Like his parent, Pakka wore a belt and pouches.

Atuarre pointed a slim, clawed finger at Han and Chewbacca. "What are they doing here?"

"They're here to aid our escape," Rekkon explained. "They brought the computer element I needed to extract the final data. The only one yet to arrive is Engret; I couldn't contact him, but left a message on his recorder with the code word for him to contact me."

Atuarre seemed agitated. "Engret didn't make his check-call and didn't answer his com, so I stopped by his billet on the way here. I'm sure his quarters are under surveillance; we Trianii do not mistake such things. Rekkon, I believe Engret's been killed, or taken."