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Vendors wedged their carts into alleys under waterproof canopies that deflected the droplets drizzling from overhead gutters. A plantlike alien sold sizzling hunks of bluish meat on a stick; beside it, a fanged carnivore sold sliced vegetables. The two glared at each other with animosity.

They passed gambling establishments and card-reading cubicles, where fortunes were told, or made, or lost. Qwi blinked as she watched a random game of blinking lights and metal spheres hurled by the players. If the players managed to strike one of the lights while it was illuminated, they won some sort of prize, usually a coupon to play another round of the game.

Wedge found the nuances incomprehensible, but as Qwi absorbed them she slowly shook her head. “The probabilities make this game extraordinarily difficult to win,” she said.

Wedge smiled. “Now you’re starting to understand.”

A pair of rickety old starships roared overhead, and the sounds of explosions made Wedge glance up. The two ships fired upon each other, and the pursuing ship exploded into a cloud of shrapnel that rained down on the buildings. Across a yawning open space, Wedge watched patrons seated on an outdoor balcony run for their lives as smoldering chunks of metal pelted the building. The victorious ship continued to limp away, its damaged engines faltering; then, with a hollow-sounding boom, the engines gave out, and the ship spiraled down into the distance, where it crashed.

In a parking area for maintenance vehicles, Qwi stopped to inspect a vendor’s table of trinkets and exotica, including boots made from rancor leather and glistening claws that he claimed came from wampa ice creatures.

“How do we know these are real?” Qwi asked the vendor, a reptilian creature with a long tapering forehead and three eyes across his brow ridge.

“You have my word on it,” the vendor said.

“No thanks,” Wedge said, and took Qwi by the elbow, leading her to a small self-serve café under the fluttering awnings of an open-air bazaar. Wedge ordered samples from the few recognizable items on the menu, carrying a tray laden with fizzing colorful drinks and glossy dessert pastries.

“This place is different from Coruscant,” Qwi said, summarizing her feelings. “Much more … lived in, less polished.”

Wedge raised his eyebrows, “You can say that again.”

Qwi blinked at him. “Why should I?”

“Never mind,” he said, smiling indulgently.

They selected a table far from where two enormous, gray-skinned brutes were bellowing at each other in what seemed to be either a blood feud or an argument; the longer Wedge watched, however, the more he realized that this was merely their method of conversation.

The torn umbrella over their heads leaked some of the residue drizzling from above, so Wedge and Qwi moved to the opposite side where the table was relatively clean. They stared out across the crowded streets and saw a long wall of identical-looking warehouses, some guarded, some merely locked.

Qwi sipped her drink and sat up, startled, as the fizz bubbled around in her mouth. She swallowed, drew several quick breaths, and gasped, “That’s very good, but I shall have to restrain myself!”

“Just take a sip at a time,” Wedge said, “and you’ll enjoy it.”

Qwi looked at her dessert pastry and spoke distractedly. “You’ve shown me so many places, Wedge. Maw Installation is still a blur, though I can remember what it was like … at least since you took me back there. It was much smaller than this place, not so many people. Quiet and private and clean. Everything in its place, regimented, easy to find.”

“But without much freedom,” Wedge pointed out.

“I believe you’re right,” Qwi answered. “Of course, I didn’t know that at the time. I didn’t know much of anything. You’ve already given me far more worthwhile memories than I lost,” she said. “There are times when I think Kyp Durron simply removed the bad parts from my brain, leaving room for you to show me more wonders.”

“So you don’t think your past will ever