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Kit did not expect to be noticed, for few people here had time for the destitute and unfortunate, and for the most part she was ignored. Now and then, though, a bite of food or a credit or two would fall into the little bowl she had set before her. Her eyes darted about, seemingly on the lookout for a kind face, but in actuality searching for one being in particular.

And there he was. A Bothan, swathed in dark, travel-stained robes with a cowl that hid most of his face. She could determine his species only when he glanced up and she caught the briefest glimpse of his feline features. They were a species that was widely traveled and not above less-than-reputable dealings, so they were not uncommon on Tatooine. Nonetheless, he was the right species, in the right place, at the right time, and that was good enough for Kit to focus on him.

She’d been listening to the chatter inside the cantina for a while now. The musicians, clatter of chairs, and clink of glasses had been tuned out, and she’d already gotten a good sense of who was present. There were a few Twi’lek females soliciting customers for acts best performed in private; the Toydarian gambler Yol Saan, who cheated brilliantly and who lost just often enough that he didn’t end up facedown in the alley behind the cantina; a couple of Jawas who were utterly drunk by this point and performing their species’ version of hysterical giggling; and several strangers of all species discussing the purchase of, or obtaining passage on, vessels. In other words, she had heard nothing out of the ordinary.

The Bothan stepped through the doorway, ignoring Kit completely. Kit continued to enact the charade of a poor, orphaned cripple, but her full attention was focused on what was transpiring inside.

The Bothan’s voice was soft and pleasant. He spoke in his native language, one that Kit understood completely, all soft, husky purring punctuated with the occasional growl. He approached Ackmena, the night bartender, and asked for a Starshine Surprise. She greeted him pleasantly enough, mixed up the drink, and turned her attention to other customers. The Bothan moved away, making idle chitchat as he settled on a table. One of the Twi’lek girls approached him, but before she could get well into the oft-rehearsed invitation, the Bothan cut her off.

“Not interested, sorry my dear. Not that you’re not lovely.”

Compliments, it seemed, did not equal credits in the Twi’lek’s opinion, for she responded to it with a vulgar phrase. Kit smothered a grin.

There was not a lot to be heard from the Bothan for some time. Kit began to grow worried. Maybe the information Truugo had on this being was inaccurate. If she came back without any information for him, he’d be very displeased. She shifted uneasily on her blanket.

“You’re late.”

Kit frowned. The voice was human, female and gravelly, and Kit knew it well. It belonged to Ackmena, the bartender. Ackmena was something of a celebrity on Tatooine. She’d started out as the night bartender, and gone on to fame with her singing. She’d come back awhile ago and had her own place now, but apparently she was still drawn to Chalmun’s, for it wasn’t unusual to see her tending bar, presumably just for the fun of socializing. While there was certainly a lot of traffic in the cantina, there were many regulars as well, and they adored the gruff but cheerful woman. While she never revealed her age, everyone knew she was well into her eighties by this point, but she still had the energy of a woman much younger. It surprised and saddened Kit to realize that Ackmena was involved in the sort of shady affairs that would interest her master.

“Unavoidable, I’m afraid. I appear to have attracted a bit of attention.”

The sound of fingers drumming gently on a table. “Attention on your company isn’t a bad thing. Attention on the pilots is.”

Kit gasped and then bit her tongue. She glanced around; fortunately, no one seemed to have noticed. Both the Bothan she had been sent to spy on and the beloved, famous bartender were members of the Freedom Flight!