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He had spent two days making info forays from a cubicle hotel in the heart of what was once known as the Red District. His research had returned a couple of promising leads, but he was hoping that Poste would have something substantial for him. Waiting for his eyes to adjust to the tapcaf's dim lighting, Jadak made a complete circuit of the large main room before heading for the table Poste was holding, a bottle of brew in front of him. Jadak got the attention of a waitress and told her to bring him a Meranzane on ice. He came up behind Poste, startling him, and slipped into the opposite seat.

“I wasn't sure you'd show,” Poste said in genuine surprise.

“Why wouldn't I?”

“I figured you might have found what you're looking for.”

“I haven't,” Jadak said. The waitress delivered the drink, and he took a sip, letting the liquor linger in his mouth. “This guy you mentioned …”

“He'll be here. But he's had to come a long way. I promised him you'd make it worth his while, no matter what.”

Jadak nodded. “I already told you I would. What do you know about him?”

“Not much, except that he had a reputation as being one of the best mechanics onworld until something went down that drove him into hiding for a couple of years. When he returned, he worked exclusively for Black Sun, keeping their cargo freighters shipshape. If he doesn't know whoever you're looking for, he'll probably know someone who does.”

Poste paused for a moment. “What's this all about, anyway?”

“That can wait till the mechanic gets here.”

“You know, I'm still not sure I want anything to do with you. The way you handled those goons. What are you, an undercover cop? Alliance agent?” He sniffed elaborately. “You've got that … aura about you. Who were they, anyway—rivals? Enemies?”

“Keep your voice down,” Jadak said.

“I'm just telling you, I don't have any big dreams. I'm content making a small living here.”

Jadak sat back into the chair. “Picking pockets? Making off with bags at the spaceport? Doing a bit of breaking and entering on the side? Some petty theft during power failures or while folks are attending funerals?”

Poste nodded knowingly. “See? You even talk like a cop.” He started to rise from the table, but Jadak grabbed hold of his sleeve.

“Sit down. I'll explain everything after we talk to the mechanic.”

“Bammy.”

Jadak looked up from his drink.

“Bammy Decree. That's his name.” Poste nodded with his chin toward the circular bar. “And I think this might be him.”

Jadak followed Poste's gaze to an elderly human, nicely dressed but somewhat stoop-shouldered and hobbling on perhaps century-old legs. “Are you Poste?” he asked as he approached the table.

“That's me.”

Poste stood, as if to offer to help him into a chair, but Decree waved him off and sat down unassisted, glancing uncertainly at Jadak.

“I've come all the way from the Duros Sector.”

“We know,” Poste said sympathetically, “and we appreciate it.”

Decree glanced at Jadak again. “Then let's get on with this.”

Jadak interlocked his fingers and leaned forward. “Bammy, I'm looking for information about a YT-Thirteen-hundred freighter that collided with a Corellian ship sixty-two years ago.”

Decree's jaw slackened and he stared at Jadak in astonishment. “Are you talking about the Stellar Envoy?”

Jadak practically came out of his chair and had to force himself to speak softly. “That's the ship, Bammy. How do you know about it?”

Decree smiled, revealing gaps in his yellowing teeth. “How do I know? I rebuilt that freighter top-to-bottom after the collision. Added parts to it from an old YT-Thirteen-hundred-pea, retooled the engines and power core, beefed up the plating and the hyperdrive, redid the entire interior, even installed a new droid brain.”

Jadak put his hand gently on Decree's upper arm. “Who bought it, Bammy?”

Decree gazed at Jadak's hand until he removed it. “A crime boss by the name of Rej Taunt.”

Jadak logged the name. “Is this Taunt still alive?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Does he still have