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Greedo tried to peer through the smoke to see if his family’s dwelling complex was on fire. The Rodians lived back near the refuse core. Greedo couldn’t see that far, but he guessed everything was okay. Only the Rebel warehouse and the buildings across the street were burning.

Greedo relaxed and began to enjoy the scene before him. He recognized Rebels helping the firefighters, and he began to wonder exactly what had happened here. The only stormtroopers visible were lying on their backs, helmets shattered.

Just then Greedo heard the sound of rending metal and he saw the firefighters all turn toward the flight shaft, which was out of his line of vision. The firefighters’ faces changed to fear, and a second later a massive black war machine hovered into view, spewing laser fire from ten different points on its convoluted surface.

The machine was a monstrous engine of death, shaped like a crab, with ripping claws left and right, a phalanx of blast weapons fore and aft, and a command cockpit secured behind heavy shielding in the center, about where a crab’s mouth would be. It floated on repulsor energy, it moved very swiftly, and it killed everything in its path.

Greedo pounded on the lift door. It still wouldn’t open. Part of him was glad it wouldn’t open. Part of him wanted to leave. That part of him punched the button for Level 92. My family will be okay. Only the Rebels are going to die.

As the lift rose away from the carnage, Greedo got a last glimpse of the Death Engine as it spewed a thick stream of white-hot energy into the Rebel warehouse. Then he was moving between levels and his vision was blocked.

A moment later the whole sector shook as if it had been hit by an asteroid.

Greedo stumbled out onto the Level 92 thoroughfare and promptly fell on his face. The street heaved and shook, and a terrifying rumble filled the air. People ran or grabbed onto vehicles as they careened past, heading for the flight shaft.

As he dragged himself to his feet, Greedo saw the bounty hunters moving together toward the reserved parking platform where they had all stashed their ships. He saw Dyyz Nataz, but he couldn’t make out Warhog Goa.

A gloved hand grabbed Greedo’s shoulder. He looked up into the broad-beaked face of his friend.

“If ya know what’s good for ya, kid, you’ll come with me and Dyyz. The Imps are in a bad mood about some-thin’. I think the Rebs gave ’em more of a fight than they expected.”

“My folks … I can’t leave my family … my people.”

“Don’t worry about the family, kid. If you’re goin’ to be a bounty hunter, you’re going to have to kiss off the family, sooner or later. Now’s as good a time as any … Besides, they’ll probably be okay.”

Warhog Goa gave Greedo a questioning look and then walked away, following Dyyz toward their ship.

Greedo stood and watched Warhog go, trying to make up his mind, trying to decide what he really wanted.

He wanted to be a bounty hunter.

The sleek cruiser Nova Viper lifted with the swarm of bounty-hunter craft that headed out of port, lining up for jump clearances.

No clearances came. Port Control was preoccupied.

So the ships jumped anyway.

The last thing Goa and Dyyz and Greedo saw was the collapse of an entire quarter of the Corellian Sector, floor upon floor, with a magnificent flash and rumble and roar.

“Wheez! Musta took out twenty levels!” shouted Dyyz. “A lot of good people just died, Goa.”

“And we’re alive … right, Greedo?”

Greedo didn’t answer. He just stared at the swelling conflagration, the succession of fireballs, the billowing black clouds.

The navicomp clicked in for Tatooine.

They jumped.

8. Mos Eisley

A massive armor-plated figure stood in the entrance of the dim and noisy cantina, surveying the motley crowd with glowing red electronic eyes.

“Hey—ain’t that Gorm the Dissolver? What’s he doin’ here? I thought we killed him!”

“Sure … my buddy Greedo decimated his motivator. But there’s biocomponents from six different aliens in Gorm. The only way to kill