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Han brought the Falcon in to a smooth landing there. The repulsors kicked up large clouds of sand, sending a miniature dust storm flowing toward the main body of waiting onlookers. The two Alliance shuttles settled in behind the Falcon.

The GA Security detail emerged first, its commander trotting over for a quick consultation with her opposite number among the Klatooinians, while other uniformed personnel took up positions around the Falcon.

After a few moments, the security captain’s voice crackled over the comm board. “Mither here. Your crowd is made up of armed belligerents from a dozen worlds, some portions of the crowd are already pulling out anti-Jedi chants, and local security is a joke without a punch line. Recommend you dust off and return to orbit. Over.”

Leia smiled and activated her personal comlink. “Thanks, Captain. We’ll be right down.”

Han sighed and rose. “Seemed like good advice to me.”

Leia stood. “Since when do you listen to good advice?”

“Point taken.” He sounded resigned.

Allana hopped up, careful not to startle Anji. “Can I come, too?”

Leia shook her head. “Not right now, sweetie. Your grandpa and I need to do this alone. We’ll let you know when you can come down with your own security detail.”

Allana’s sigh was as put-upon as Han’s had been.

They descended the boarding ramp of the Falcon and stepped out from under her shadow into glaring sunlight. A contingent of onlookers, all dressed for desert weather, none wearing rank insignia or other markings, stepped forward.

The leader, a tall Klatooinian male bristling with holsters and bandoliers, stopped a meter in front of Han and Leia and offered a minimal bow. “Welcome to Klatooine.” His voice was deep, an articulate growl. “I am Padnel Ovin, strike commander, now leader, of the Sapience Defense Front.”

Leia returned the bow. “Leia Organa Solo. I bring greetings and wishes for success from the Galactic Alliance. And allow me to express my personal sympathies for the circumstances that have brought you to your new duties.”

Padnel offered up something that sounded like a cough.

Leia gestured toward Han. “My husband, Han Solo.” She omitted Han’s various ranks and titles. Such things wouldn’t impress a mob of rebel warriors, while Han’s history of accomplishments would.

Padnel gestured to the bright-eyed, intense Chev female to his left. “My aide, Nialle Aker.” He turned to indicate a Klatooinian female, as tall as he was or taller, to his right. “Reni Coll, leader of the Freedom Advocacy Movement.”

The Klatooinian bowed. She had old scars on her right cheek, her canine-like muzzle, and down her neck, burn scars from the looks of them, that were lighter than her olive-green skin and made it appear as though she were wearing camouflage-pattern makeup. “I am honored,” she said in unaccented Basic. She sounded polite rather than honored.

Padnel half turned to his left and gestured to a droid—a protocol droid identical in shape and size to C-3PO but painted an arterial blood red, with photoreceptors that shone in the same color. “Naysay of Clan Vacweld, of the Manumission Mandate Militia.”

Leia’s heart sank, but she maintained her smile. “I’m delighted to see manumitted droids represented at this meeting.”

Naysay cocked his head. His voice was sharper, less cordial than C-3PO’s. “I was, of course, absolutely certain that a longtime, incorrigible slave owner such as yourself would be ecstatic at my inclusion in these affairs.”

Padnel continued as if he had not heard, and pointed out other members of the delegation. “Azmar Huun, of Tatooine, reporting to Freedom Flight.” This was a small, sandy-colored human male with a wispy mustache and impassive features.

There were other names. Leia smiled, nodded, memorized them all. Beside her, Han shook hands all around and could be counted on not to remember a single name, unless it was someone he’d played sabacc with or traded blasterfire with in the past.

Finally Padnel gestured toward a distant tent, one large enough to shelter two squadrons of X-wings and support