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“They should have known better,” Seff said. “They were attempting to blackmail Captain Solo into procuring weapons for them.”

The agent stared at him. “Who are you?” Getting no answer, he turned to Leia for help. “Who is he?”

“Seff Hellin.”

Seff inclined his head. “Master Organa.”

The second agent made note of it.

“We've been watching this bunch for a couple of standard months,” the short one said for Han's benefit. “They're part of an illegal arms syndicate based on Denon. How did they know you were here?”

Han scratched his head. “Let me know when you find out.” He glanced at Allana. “They took our daughter hoping to force me into contacting Tendrando Arms about delivering twenty YVH droids.”

The agent nodded. “That figures. Of course, we were hoping to round everyone up at the same time, but your Jedi here has ruined that plan.”

“He's not my Jedi,” Han said.

“You have no law enforcement jurisdiction on Taris,” the other agent told Hellin. “I order you to surrender your lightsaber. We're placing you under arrest.”

“Do as he says,” Leia said. “I'll contact Master Skywalker—”

“I'm not surrendering my lightsaber to anyone,” Hellin said. “And you're not taking me into custody.”

“Seff!” Leia said sharply as the soldiers raised their rifles.

“Master Skywalker doesn't understand.”

Hellin took a sudden step backward and waved his free hand at the soldiers. Torn loose, the rifles flew to the far side of the room, hit the wall, and clattered to the floor. When the two intelligence agents moved on him, Hellin waved a second time, and the men froze as if paralyzed.

Then, moving with blinding speed, the Jedi was gone.

Han went to Leia and Allana, whose eyes were squeezed shut.

“He shouldn't have been able to do that,” Leia said in quiet astonishment.

“MOVE TO THE CENTER OF THE ROOM WITH ALL YOUR BELONGINGS and prepare to be scanned,” Carcel's Codru-Ji security officer ordered over the loudspeaker.

Jadak and Poste and a mixed-species group of two dozen other visitors moved deeper into the room. Positioning marks on the metal floor indicated where each of them should stand.

“You with the leg implants,” the Codru-Ji said. “Take two steps forward and raise your arms out to your sides.”

“Hope they don't find the laserfile you hid in the birthday cake,” Poste said as Jadak and a Gran separated themselves from the group.

“Just the human male,” the Codru-Ji said. “All right, you can rejoin the others,” he added a moment later.

Everyone waited while a quartet of archaic gatekeeper droids performed the scanning.

“Gather your belongings and report to visitor registration,” the guard said finally.

Having left their small packs in the prison's small hotel, Jadak and Poste were alone in being empty-handed; the rest of the visitors were bringing foodstuff, clothing, holozines, smokes of a wide assortment, and refresher flimsi to friends, family members, and former accomplices.

Carcel was the most miserable piece of rock Jadak had ever put down on, and perhaps the worst possible place for Poste to begin his galactic travels. Regardless, he was like a kid at an amusement park, soaking in every experience and elated to be away from Nar Shaddaa. Jadak had had himself fitted for a new identity and thoroughly scanned for locator implants. As a further precaution, they had booked passage on a merchant ship to Saleucami before hopping a passenger vessel to Roche and transferring to the dedicated shuttles that ferried visitors to and from Carcel. In their short time together, Poste had already shown himself to be a quick-thinking and amiable companion. Jadak had been mostly correct about the kid's criminal activities, but there was more to him than met the eye. Born in one of the Smugglers' Moon's deepest chasms, Poste had all but raised himself, learning the ropes of foraging, theft, and scamming early on. He had been jailed numerous times, and maintained a soft spot for kids growing up as he did, often to the point of sharing