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Luke balled his left hand into a fist. His right hand reached for his lightsaber.

Leia grabbed his arm. "Luke, let it go," she urged him in a whisper.

He shook her off. "Say that again," he ordered Jaxson, in a low, dangerous voice. "I dare you."

CHAPTER FIVE

"Griggs Pe'et?" Han said, approaching a booth in the cantina's back corner inhabited by a grizzled Balosar. The creature wiggled its retractable antennapalps. Han had met a few Balosars in his day—it was a duplicitous, cowardly, greedy species, and he expected Griggs would be no exception. "Han Solo," he introduced himself, sliding into a seat. Chewbacca stayed on his feet, standing guard. "You said you wanted the best? You got him."

The Balosar had contacted the Falcon shortly after the ship jumped away from Yavin 4. He was looking for someone with "very particular skills" to acquire a "very particular package"—and he'd been told Han was the man to do it.

That was it. No details about the potential job or the potential fee. Just a name, Griggs Pe'et, and a time and location. Fourteen hundred hours, in a small gambling joint on Tythe, take it or leave it.

Han wasn't in the habit of taking jobs from just anyone.

Just anyone who could pay.

So he and Chewbacca had jumped to the Arkanis sector, and here he was.

Ready for something new.

Kislov's Gambling Palace was a dead end club on a dead end planet, filled with dead-eyed spacers looking to make a quick buck. The room was claustrophobic and musty, the muttering quiet punctuated by the occasional shout of protest about a cheating sabacc dealer. (In Han's experience, all sabacc dealers cheated—it was your own fault if you played without knowing the rules of the game.) A dour Ychthytonian sloshed drinks behind the bar, juggling mugs of grog and caf in each of his four hands. The club looked like a gundark nest and smelled like wet bantha fur.

Han felt right at home.

"As we speak, an Imperial transport is ferrying a valuable shipment to the Imperial satellite station in the Zorna system," the Balosar said in a hushed tone.

"Shipment of what?" Han asked.

"That is not your concern yet," Griggs Pe'et said. "Your only concern is that I want the shipment—and I'm willing to pay for it."

"Oh yeah? How much?" Han asked.

"Ten thousand," Pe'et offered.

Han laughed. "You want me to infiltrate an Imperial station for ten thousand?

You some kind of comedian?"

Chewbacca growled.

"Don't worry, buddy, I'm sure he was just kidding around," Han said. "No need to tear his arms off." He leaned toward the Balosar, "That's the thing about Wookiees. They can't take a joke. So how about we talk about the real price."

"What did you have in mind?" Pe'et hissed.

Han named a price that was double his usual—just enough to pay back Jabba, with a little leftover for a new exhaust port on the Falcon.

The alien's antennapalps began to vibrate, shuddering so hard Han half-expected his head to split in two. Pe'et frowned. "You drive a hard bargain, Solo.

I could get ten men to do it for half that."

Han shrugged. "You want the best, you pay for the best." He jerked his head at Chewbacca, and they stood up together. "But if you'd rather find someone else—"

"Wait," the Balosar barked. "I'll pay. When I get the shipment."

"You'll pay half up front," Han said. "Or no deal."

Pe'et nodded. "Then we have an agreement?"

"We have an offer," Han said, enjoying himself. It felt good to be back in his element, doing what he did best. "My partner and I will have to discuss it."

The alien nodded again, then stared at them, as if waiting.

" Alone," Han said.

Griggs Pe'et stood up, muttering something about why he hated dealing with humans. He tossed a datacard down on the table. "This will tell you how to reach me. I'll need a decision by tonight."

Once they were alone, Han kicked back in his chair, propping his legs on the table. "Looks like we got ourselves a job, buddy," he said contentedly.

Chewbacca barked a question.

"What's to