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Still, it was Alema’s Jedi powers that gave Lavint the edge at the betting tables. Whenever Alema watched from a shadowy place, and communicated with Lavint with little telekinetic prods, giving Lavint a much-improved sense of how good the other players’ hands were, Lavint won big. She won enough to maintain a cabin aboard this pricy flying hotel, enough to buy cargo that would make her next smuggling run a very profitable one, enough to surround herself with the trappings of a life well misspent.

She just wished that Alema weren’t one of those trappings.

But now, as she weaved her way to her door, a shadow seemed to flow off the opposite wall of the passageway and stand over her.

Lavint reached for her hold-out blaster and was bringing it in line to fire, or at least threaten, when the stranger snatched it from her hand. He didn’t aim it back at her; he just held it, barrel down.

Lavint peered at him, alarmed and suspicious, for the seconds it took to bring his face into focus. Then she recognized him and laughed. “Colonel Solo,” she said. “Here to kill me?”

He shook his head and handed her the blaster. “No, I need you.”

“Well, I’m not at my best right now, but I’m up for it if you are.”

An expression of distaste crossed his face. “Not what I meant.”

“I didn’t think so. I was just checking.” She replaced the blaster in its hideaway holster—on her third try—then drew her datapad from its pocket and used it to open the cabin door. Beyond was a small chamber, minimal furniture, and no Alema, unless she was under the bed or up in the ceiling somewhere.

Lavint led her visitor in and immediately sat on the chamber’s one chair, leaving Jacen to decide whether to take the bed or stand. He elected to stand.

“I have need of your services.”

“I don’t think so.” She started to shake her head but, as the motion caused the cabin to sway violently, thought better of it and stopped. “I distinctly remember you saying, ‘I’d never prolong a business relationship with someone who sells the Falleen.’”

“Sells out her fellows,” Jacen corrected. He looked annoyed. “Circumstances change.”

“And ethics with them. Congratulations! That makes you a smuggler.”

He was quiet a moment, as if settling his emotions, then continued. “It’s your services as a smuggler I need. Most people connected with the smuggling culture are either staying clear of the war or siding with the Confederation.”

“And with good reason. You want to put us out of business.”

“No, I want you all to take up a legitimate business. And if you help me, I’ll help you do just that.”

“Keep talking.”

“There’s going to be a gathering of Confederation warships in a few days. From different systems. Their leaders will meet, they’ll elect a joint leader, and then they’ll launch against a common target. I need to be at the meeting site to find out who’s there…who’s a conspirator.”

“Just ambush the fleet and sort them out when they’re dead.”

He waved her suggestion away. “What will it cost me for you to get me there?”

“I won’t do it. You can’t be trusted. You sabotage hyperdrives.”

A flash of anger crossed his face. “Your hyperdrive did fail.”

“Of course it did. And I spent several long, long hours thinking I was going to die alone in space. Considering that was on top of having my ship stolen—by you—it wasn’t a good day. Really it wasn’t.”

“I ruined two good men because you lied to me the last time we talked.”

Lavint shrugged. “They weren’t good men. They were saboteurs. Incompetent ones, too, since I eventually fixed the drive they sabotaged. They were scum. Like me, remember? You shouldn’t rely on scum, nice boy like you.”

Jacen closed his eyes and seemed to be counting. Finally he opened them. “Whatever price we agree to, I’ll deliver fully, in advance. To you or your agent of choice. Irretrievably.”

“All right.” Lavint didn’t have to think for long. “I want the Breathe My Jets back.”

“I can’t do that within our time frame. It’s been overhauled, recommissioned, put into service as a GA transport. It would take weeks or