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“Take it?” Monarg blinked. “Well, yes, it’s for sale. What are you offering?”

Dyon shook his head. “No, it’s not for sale.”

Monarg glared at him. “I decide that.”

Tarth Vames gave him a puzzled look. “No, the owner does.”

“I’m the owner!”

“You are?” Vames brought out his datapad, opened it. “Let’s see. A SoroSuub yacht of this type has been reported by the Skywalkers here as having traveled from the Maw cluster to Dathomir within the last several days. Such a vehicle was reported as having crashed, obviously erroneously. I see no sign that anyone has put in a claim for recovery of the vehicle, either in the Maw cluster, or here, as a salvage vessel.”

Monarg felt his stomach sink. “Wait …”

“Of course, the vehicle could have been dropped off here and repaired by you for resale. But that would mean you intended to sell it without filing claim documents, presumably to avoid paying the port, that’s Dathomir Spaceport, all appropriate fees for transfer of title. Which is a criminal offense, leading, if there is a conviction, to a minimum term of one to three years for a vehicle of this value. So I certainly hope you didn’t do anything like that.”

“I … didn’t.” The words emerged from between Monarg’s clenched teeth.

Vames scrolled down on his datapad screen. “Earlier today, Dyon Stadd put in a claim document on this vessel, supported by the Skywalkers here, and paid all pertinent fees. He now has the title. It’s his. I don’t see a name for the yacht, Dyon.”

“Bright Sun.”

“Nice name. Catchy. Monarg, he’ll need the access codes.”

“But … my repairs …” Monarg had sunk a tremendous number of credits into the repair and refurbishing of the yacht, money he would make back and more when he sold the vehicle … if only he could sell the vehicle.

Vames looked blank. “Dyon, did you authorize any modifications to your yacht?”

“I did not.”

Vames shook his head. “Sorry, Monarg. Something for you to work out with the yacht owner at some later time. Now, are you going to hand over the access codes, or face criminal prosecution?”

All his available funds, including the rewards he’d received from the GA government for reporting on the whereabouts of the Solos, had gone into that yacht. Monarg felt like crying. He suspected that later, outside the view of his artificially cheerful visitors, he would.

He tried to glare at Vestara but knew he only looked hurt. “I gave you money …”

“Which I turned around and paid back to you for a hypercomm message. A pittance, far less than the yacht was worth.” She shrugged. “Sorry. I’m not part of this arrangement. The Skywalkers and their friends are acting totally independent of my wishes.”

His movements slow and painful, Monarg dug through the data-chips in his desk drawer. He found the one he needed and handed it to Dyon.

“Thank you.”

“Just get out.”

Dyon took the chip to the main boarding hatch of the yacht, plugged it in, let it transmit its security code. The hatch cycled open, and internal systems begin activating. Dyon waved to the Jedi.

Luke Skywalker waved back. “See you in orbit.”

Outside Monarg’s, Luke clapped Vames on the back. “Well done. And thank you.”

Vames looked pleased. “I’ve been wishing to wipe that man’s smirk off his face for many years. And although my powers are nothing like a Jedi’s—”

“They’re powers most of us Jedi don’t have. Tarth, we’ll stop in and see you the next time we’re on Dathomir.”

“In the meantime, I’ll transmit your deed to your Temple, and hold the speeder bikes for your Bright Sun friends.”

“Much appreciated.”

Luke led the way to Jade Shadow. He, Ben, and Vestara boarded. The Skywalkers settled Vestara into a rear seat in the cockpit and began their preflight checklist.

In minutes, Ben announced, “Everything’s in the green and Dyon reports ready to go.”

“Take her up, Ben.” Luke gave Vestara a confident look. “Your Sith friends may have a few hours’ head start, but I’ve been in and out of the Maw many times. I know quite a few routes in. We’ll head them