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Lando continued. “We’ll rendezvous at Klatooine. It’s close to the Maw, part of the Si’Klaata Cluster,” Lando continued.

“Why do I know that name?” Luke asked. He wondered if it was only because it was so similar to “Tatooine” that it stuck in his mind so.

Lando grinned, showing perfect white teeth. “Because it’s the last stop on the famous Kessel Run. You can’t possibly have forgotten that.”

“Of course,” Luke said. “The Kessel Run. Han has to regale us at least once a year with that story.”

Lando chuckled. “Believe me, the Run was even more interesting when the place was crawling with Hutts,” he said. “Or slithering, since Hutts don’t have legs. It’s still Hutt space, officially, but they got badly hurt during the Yuuzhan Vong wars. It’s pretty quiet there now. You and your, uh, associates shouldn’t have too much trouble. A few days in orbit, maybe even a planet landing to stretch your legs, should be just fine.”

Luke touched the console and a map popped up on the transparisteel screen. There was the Maw, and near it was Kessel. Hutt space was clearly defined, and sure enough, there was the Si’Klaata Cluster, consisting of Klatooine, Nimia, Ques, Lant, Iotra, Yoruibuunt, and Sriluur. Klatooine was firmly within Hutt space, but Luke was not worried. Lando might be adventurous, but he would never deliberately put Luke in harm’s way for something as inconsequential as a rendezvous point.

“Thanks, Lando. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Luke. Just treat my old vessel with care and respect. And … watch your back, huh kid?”

Lando grinned, winked, and his image vanished.

“Threepio’s a protocol droid,” Ben was saying as he rummaged about in the galley. They had restocked somewhat on Dathomir after Ben had depleted their supplies by helping the Mind Drinkers in the Maw, but there was still not a lot to choose from. He selected some fruits and vegetables and began to cut them up into a sort of salad, tossing in a few chunks of cooked something-or-other. He hadn’t paid much attention to the flora and fauna of Dathomir, except to make sure it wasn’t going to try to sting, poison, choke, or eat him.

“He knows all about etiquette and stuff. Languages, histories, customs—”

“But not recipes,” Vestara said, smiling, as she reached for the salad he had made her.

“Definitely not recipes,” Ben confirmed, smiling back. So often, she seemed to hold herself rigidly in check, projecting a cool composure. When Vestara Khai did smile, she looked her age. Her face lit up and her brown eyes warmed and … well, he liked it when she smiled.

Ben realized she was looking at him expectantly and he blushed a little at where his thoughts were going. He returned his attention to making his own salad. “It’s not as if my aunt Leia hasn’t tried to improve on his programming. She does this spiceloaf that—”

He caught himself. This was not an ordinary girl, with whom he could chat casually about family recipes, good or bad. And he’d just named his aunt.

Vestara continued to smile and look at him curiously. “What about the spiceloaf? What kind of spices were used in it?”

“Uh, I don’t know, but let’s put it this way,” Ben said, glancing down as if the preparation of a salad was as important a task as navigating through the Kathol rift. “It would be nice if Threepio could learn how to cook.”

Vestara slid into a seat, folding her tall body in with feline grace, laughing a little. “You speak of this droid as if he were a family member.”

Ben poured them each a glass of blue milk—his dad hated the stuff, but Ben found he kind of liked it—and shrugged. He slid the glass over to Vestara, and as she grasped it, their fingers brushed.

“Well,” he said, “he kind of is. I mean, he’s got a personality.” He grinned suddenly. “He definitely has a personality. And he’s been with the family a long time.”

“How long?” Vestara took a sip of the milk and peered at Ben, apparently highly interested.

I bet you are, Ben thought. You’re just waiting for me to get too chatty and let something slip.

“Very long,” he