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It was all the distraction Luke needed.

He activated the hyperdrive, hoping they wouldn't end up inside a sun.

They jumped.

Light streamed past the viewscreen as they blazed through hyperspace. Smears of stars streaked across the black of space. And then, after an instant that felt like an eternity, the stars were stars again, points of light in the darkness. Space was silent, still, and empty.

They had arrived.

Somewhere.

"I hope you're right about this," Luke said nervously.

"Me? You're the one who powered up the hyperdrive and took a blind jump."

"You'd rather we sat waiting to be blown out of the sky?" Luke argued, annoyed. He knew that Div would have done the same thing if he'd had the chance. He was obviously just irritated that Luke had moved faster. "Besides, you're the one who said we could trust this guy."

"I don't trust anyone," Div said.

As he spoke, a TIE fighter appeared out of hyperspace.

"That's impossible!" Luke exclaimed. "TIE fighters don't have hyperdrives!"

"Feel free to complain to the Empire," Div said, manning the missile launchers. " I'm going to get the weapons ready. You know, just in case the impossible TIE fighter decides to blow us out of the sky."

It seemed likely the TIE fighter was the same ship that had sent them the coordinates, though there was no way to tell. But now it was battle-scarred, deep gashes running up and down its hull. It had clearly taken some heavy fire before jumping, which meant the pilot, whoever he was, must have been good. TIE fighters weren't built to withstand much fire. Imperial pilots, like their ships, were considered infinitely replaceable.

Of course, the ships also weren't built to make hyperspace jumps. Obviously this was no ordinary TIE fighter—which meant it was likely no ordinary pilot.

Ignoring them, the ship maneuvered into orbit around a nearby moon and disappeared into the thin atmosphere. A transmission came through on the same Rebel frequency used before. More coordinates, this time for a landing spot on the face of the moon.

Luke and Div exchanged a glance.

"We've come this far," Luke said, and took the Firespray down to the surface.

The atmosphere was thick enough that they could breathe but thin enough that they could still see the stars. The moon was dead, arid, flat, and small. In the distance, Luke could make out the curve of the horizon. They stayed in the ship, keeping their weapons trained on the TIE fighter. Its hatch opened, and a figure stepped out. He was dressed in the uniform of an Imperial pilot, but an Imperial pilot would never be so out of shape. As the man drew closer to the ship, Luke glimpsed his face. He nearly laughed in relief.

"Come on," he told Div. "It's okay. He's a friend." He flung open the hatch of the Firespray and hurried to meet their rescuer, a man he'd never expected to see again. Ferus Olin.

Div followed slowly.

"Luke," Ferus said when Luke had reached him. He didn't seem at all surprised.

"Ferus, I can't believe it!" Luke said. He'd met Ferus Olin on Delaya, the sister planet to Alderaan. The old man had known Leia when she was a child, and he'd quickly proven himself to be a brave and solid ally. Luke had hoped he would join the Rebel Alliance, but he had refused. He has a mission of his own, Leia had said, sounding skeptical. Or he's just too cowardly to fight. But Ferus hadn't seemed like a coward, not to Luke. He'd seemed wise and oddly trustworthy. His very presence was comforting, as if he always knew more than what he was saying, and was ready to face it. Just like Ben, Luke thought, not for the first time.

Ferus was the last person he would have expected to meet on this strange moon, especially piloting a TIE fighter and dressed in Imperial uniform. But there was almost no one else he would rather have seen.

"Div, this is Ferus—" Luke broke off as he spotted Div's ashen face. He was standing stiffly, like a soldier at attention. His hand twitched toward his holster, as if he was fighting the temptation to draw. "It's okay," Luke assured him. "Ferus is a friend."

"I'm