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“I’ve often wondered,” the protocol droid said as they entered, “if your clientele all subscribe to the same service—the one listing the most disgusting and disreputable places in the galaxy to meet.”

Lorn made no reply. He had wondered the same thing on occasion himself.

Inside was a small lobby, most of its space taken up by a ticket booth made of yellowing plasteel. In the booth a balding human male lounged in a formfit chair. He looked up incuriously when they entered. “Booth five’s open,” he grunted, jerking his thumb at one of a series of doors lining the lobby’s circular wall. “One credit for a half hour.” He looked at I-Five, then said to Lorn, “If you’re taking the droid in, you gotta sign a release form.”

“We’re here for Zippa,” Lorn told him.

The proprietor glanced at them again, then shifted his bulk and pressed a button with a grimy finger. “Booth nine,” he said.

The holobooth was even smaller than the lobby, which meant it was barely big enough to contain the four who were now crowded into it. Lorn and I-Five stood behind the single contour couch that faced the transmitter plate. Zippa hovered slightly above the plate, facing them, the sound of his rapidly beating wings providing a constant background buzz. The dim light darkened his mottled blue skin to an unhealthy shade of purplish-black.

Behind the Toydarian stood another, bulkier form; Lorn could tell that it was nonhuman, but the light was too faint for him to guess its species. He wished that Zippa would stop hovering: Whatever the being behind the Toydarian was, it stank like a silage bin at high noon, and the breeze generated by Zippa’s wings wasn’t helping matters any. It was obvious that Zippa hadn’t been any too fastidious about bathing lately, as well, but fortunately the Toydarian’s body odor wasn’t offensive; in fact, it reminded Lorn of sweetspice.

“Lorn Pavan,” Zippa said, his voice somehow sounding faintly of static, as if it were tuned just a hair off true. “Good to see you again, my friend. It has been too long.”

“Good to see you again, too, Zippa,” Lorn replied. Thinking, you really had to hand it to the old crook. Nobody could fake sincerity like he could. In reality, the best thing that could be said about Zippa was that he would never stab you in the back unless it was absolutely … expedient.

Zippa changed the angle of his wings slightly, rotating to one side as he gestured to the shadowy mass in the corner. “This is Bilk, an … associate of mine.”

Bilk stepped forward slightly, and Lorn could now see him well enough to recognize him as a Gamorrean. That explained the stench.

“Pleased to meet you, Bilk.” He gestured at I-Five. “This is my associate, I-FiveYQ. I-Five, for short.”

“Charmed,” I-Five said dryly. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll shut off my olfactory sensor before it overloads.”

Zippa turned his bulbous gaze toward the droid. “Chut-chut! A droid with a sense of humor! This I like. You want to sell him?” The Toydarian drifted closer and slightly higher, the better to evaluate I-Five’s worth. “Looks pretty cobbled together. Are those Cybot G7 powerbus cables? Haven’t seen them used in years. Still, he might be worth something as a curiosity. I’ll give you fifty creds for him.”

Lorn kicked the droid in his lower left servomotor coupling before I-Five could voice an indignant protest. “Thanks for the offer, but I-Five’s not mine to sell. We’re business partners.”

Zippa stared at Lorn for a moment, then broke into a wheezing laugh. “You got a weird sense of humor, Lorn. I never know when you’re kidding. Still, I like you.”

Bilk suddenly narrowed his beady eyes and rumbled deep in his throat, leaning truculently toward I-Five. Probably only just now realizing that the droid’s earlier remark had been an insult, Lorn surmised. Gamorreans weren’t the brightest species in the galaxy, not by several decimal places.

Zippa drifted in front of his hulking bodyguard. “Relax, Bilk. We’re all good friends here.” He turned back toward