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“No, it isn't.” Luke pointed at Ben's seat. “Sit.”

“Huh?”

“Postflight checklist.”

“Oh.” Exasperated, Ben sat again and brought up his checklist on the monitor. “Engines cooling within standard rates. I notice there's no one here.”

“No one here, check.”

“Running engine diagnostics now. And the hangar doors are …” Ben bounced a comm query from his control board to the hangar's. “Locked. We're locked in.”

“Locked in, check.”

“Stop that.”

Luke smiled. “We're supposed to stay here until they complete a routine inspection.”

“Inspection.” Ben felt a touch of outrage. “You're the Grand Master of the Jedi Order.”

“And the brother-in-law of a smuggler.”

“Well, your rank should count for something. Uh, prelim diagnostics run checks out in the green.”

“Full diagnostics on all systems, please.”

Ben initiated the program. As he did so, he saw an oval section of wall stretch itself toward them, elongating slowly toward a side coupling ring. “Here they come.”

Ben and Luke met them at the air lock. It cycled open to reveal two humanoids, lean to the point of emaciation, dressed in black robes decorated in vertical black and sky-blue striping patterns. They were bald, with intelligent eyes that seemed very human, but their lower faces were obscured by breath masks. One carried an apparatus in a black backpack; a metal cable ran from it to a wandlike device, numerous sensor intakes along its length, which he held in his hand. The other had only a small card reader.

The one with the card reader extended a hand, palm up. “Identi-cards, please.” His Basic was unaccented.

Ben handed his card to the Kel Dor an instant after his father. The inspector slid each one for a moment into his reader. “I am Lieutenant Dorss, customs. This is Sergeant Vult. He will conduct a brief inspection of your craft. Are all compartments accessible?”

Luke nodded. “They are.”

Again Ben felt the urge to protest, to tell them, Don't you understand, this is Luke Skywalker. Why are you bothering? But his father seemed unperturbed, so he pretended to be as well. Still, he wondered what good it would do to travel under a name as famous as his father's if it didn't at least lubricate the wheels of bureaucracy.

The second Kel Dor disappeared aft, waving his sensor wand.

Now Dorss began his ritual interrogation. “Purpose of visit to Dorin?”

“Research,” Luke said. “We seek an audience with the Baran Do Sages.”

“Information brokerage, then?”

Luke frowned, perplexed. “I don't think so. I didn't plan to offer any credits for the information I'm looking for. Nor would I charge any for information I provide.”

“No trade goods?”

Both Jedi shook their heads.

The Kel Dor hesitated, then handed back the identicards. “Tourism, then.” There was an air of finality to his decision. “Will you require accommodations?”

“No, for convenience's sake, we'll be keeping quarters aboard the yacht.”

The Kel Dor nodded knowingly. There was something in the gesture, as if he had concluded long before that celebrities were tight with their credits and was happy for Luke Skywalker to reinforce the stereotype, that irritated Ben further.

The sergeant returned and spoke a few words to Dorss in what must have been the native tongue of Dorin. Dorss nodded. “All personal effects within categorical limits. Enjoy your stay on Dorin.”

“Thank you.” Luke waved agreeably as they reentered the air lock.

Ben frowned. “This is worse than traveling incognito. They acted like they'd never heard of you.”

Luke smiled, and there was just a touch of taunt to it. “You've been around, Ben. Wasn't that much nicer than arriving somewhere and finding that everyone is trying to shoot you?”

“Well … yes.”

“Don't get too used to the benefits of fame, son. You'll find yourself making mistakes in order to regain them when they're taken away from you.”

“I guess.”

“Now get on the planetary data grid and find us city maps, city directories, the location of the Baran Do headquarters, contact names, for our datapads. I'll check out our own breath masks to make sure they're up to