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“I'll keep that in mind, sir. But we've a slight problem. Your gravity-well projectors have made it impossible for us to maneuver. We need to effect repairs.”

“Here? You can't be serious.”

Quip dropped his voice a notch. “Sir, when I said we were empty I neglected to mention that we are carrying several crates of fine brandy and superior tabac. As a way of thanking you for your hospitality we would very much like to donate the cargo to the commander and yourself.”

The officer lifted an eyebrow. “Just how long will it take you to effect repairs?”

“Not more than a local day.”

“You have twelve hours. Then I want you and your … crew on your way.” He motioned for the stormtroopers to break formation and beckoned four of them to his side. “Captain Fargil will be offloading some cargo. Have it conveyed to my cabin immediately.”

He spun on his heel and marched off, the rest of the stormtroopers falling in behind him.

Zenn Bien watched him go and swung to Quip. “I don't know whether that was bold or just plain insane, but nice going, either way.”

Usually quick to smile, Quip was all business. “Show these troopers to the cargo. We have work to do.”

The troopers wasted no time loading six crates of brandy and tabac onto a repulsorsled and escorting it into the innards of the ship. Zenn Bien had located a cache of power tools in one of the cabins and was preparing to haul them into the main hold maintenance bay when she heard Quip call from the starboard ring corridor. “First things first. Give us a hand with these things.” He and Luufkin had their hands gripped on the corridor deck plates when Zenn Bien joined them.

“The access bays are in the main hold,” Zenn Bien started to say when Luufkin interrupted.

“Help lift out.”

Without further word, she put her back into it. The alloy plates had well-concealed handholds and were not nearly as heavy as Zenn Bien had anticipated. The surprise came when three Jawas, two Chadra-Fan, and a quartet of Squibs emerged from secret compartments beneath the plates. Each of the rodent-like beings wore a utility belt and breather mask, and carried toolboxes, work-arounds, and an assortment of canisters of a type that typically housed knockout gas.

“They boarded at Sriluur,” Quip said by way of explanation.

Zenn Bien regarded the beings, all of whom approximated her height. “Something tells me you didn't bring them along in case of breakdowns.”

“No,” Luufkin said. “They come to steal parts from cruiser's hyperdrive.”

Angry, insulted, hurt that she had been manipulated, Zenn Bien returned to the tools she had found and disappeared into the maintenance bay to repair the thruster system. It didn't take long for her to realize that the YT's contingent of little folk had engineered the system to fail on the ship's being pulled into realspace. Repairs, such as they were, wouldn't take more than a couple of hours. She was laying out the tools when Quip wriggled down into the bay.

“I'm sorry I couldn't let you in on it.”

“What, you were under orders?” she said without looking at him.

“It's true.”

She lowered the hydrospanner and turned to him. “This isn't just another heist?”

He shook his head. “The hyperdrive parts are for upgrading this ship.”

“I don't understand. We're not chopping it? That was never part of the plan?”

“Afraid not.”

“Then why do you need …” Zenn Bien allowed her words to trail off as it came to her. “You've joined the insurgency.”

“For over a year now.”

“The warrant officer at Nilash? Luufkin?”

“They're the ones who conscripted me.”

“The Jawas and the rest?”

“They're being paid. Just like you'll be paid.” He paused. “Plus a bonus if you help us.”

“Help how?”

Quip prized a flimsiplast from his shirt pocket and unfolded it. “A schematic of the Interdictor.”

Initially Zenn Bien refused to look, then thought better of it. “Got it,” she said.

Quip grinned. “You know, we could sure use people like you.”

“Just this once,” she warned.

Wearing a breather mask, Zenn Bien guided the team of Jawas, Squibs, and Chadra-Fan through a labyrinth of narrow, long-ceilinged