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“We are looking for two droids, one bipedal and the other wheeled, traveling unaccompanied. Have you seen them?”

Not looking for us, no, by the Force, not looking for us. Looking for those two droids, like all the others … “No, sir. I haven’t seen any droids this morning. But if I do, Officer, I’ll let you know.”

“See that you do. All right, Talz, on your way.” As the trooper began to turn away, curiosity overcame Muftak’s caution. “Excuse me, sir,” he began, scratching his head nervously. “I noticed that you seem to recognize—”

There was a whooshing sound and an aircar appeared from around a corner. As it approached, Muftak saw two Imperial troopers, one dressed in the blue uniform and short-billed cap of an officer. The Talz took a cautious step back, but resisted the urge to run.

The sentry snapped to attention as the aircar stopped.

The officer, a pale, sagging man with a supercilious air, inclined his head briefly and commanded, “Your report, Trooper Felth.” His words sounded lifeless, barely different from the mechanically filtered voice of Felth.

“Nothing to report, Lieutenant Alima. It’s been very quiet, sir.” Muftak tensed. He recognized that name. His friend Momaw Nadon had told him about a Captain Alima, the butcher who’d decimated the hammerhead’s home world. Could this be the same man? His rank was different, but …

“Interrogate everyone you see, Felth. Don’t take any chance with this local scum … and keep your blaster ready. These bastards will as soon kill you as look at you.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

“What about that one?” Alima drew his pistol and pointed it at Muftak. “An ugly bug … has he seen the droids?”

“No, sir.”

Muftak gathered his courage. Things were becoming very interesting. Worth a little risk. “Sir, respected representative of our beloved Empire, I am well connected in the more … shall we say, obscure … sections of Mos Eisley. It would be my pleasure to uncover this information for you, if I can.”

The officer’s eyes were very dark as he stared hard at the Talz. “See that you do, four-eyes. Now get on about your business. Don’t dawdle … off with you!”

Kabe was only a little distance away, still hiding behind the dew collector, and Muftak walked in that direction without looking back. As he passed, the little one joined him, chattering happily. “They let you go! I thought they had us, didn’t you? What happened?”

“They weren’t looking for us, Kabe. Just two unlucky droids. But something very … important happened. A chance encounter. That trooper knew who … what … I am. I am a Talz! Kabe … this may be the clue I’ve been looking for.”

The Chadra-Fan looked up at Muftak, squinting her little eyes against the morning sun. “But, but … you’re not going away, now, are you? You can’t go. We need each other. We’re partners, aren’t we?”

Muftak gazed down at his friend, feeling a strange emotion, a distant tugging that he had never felt before. Gigantic hanging purple flowers filled his mind’s eye. He scraped a claw across his domed forehead. “Don’t worry, little one. I’d never leave you alone. Right now, we’re going back to get some sleep. Then I have some inquiries to make … and before evening, I must go to Momaw Nadon’s house, find out if he knows anything about the race called the Talz. And perhaps … give him some information in return.”

“But what about the cantina?” Kabe wailed. “You promised, Muftak!”

The Talz ignored this palpable untruth. “You will get your wish, little one. We’ll go tomorrow.”

Chalmun’s cantina was, as always, bursting with disreputable life. Momaw Nadon was already at their usual spot, and Muftak took the seat opposite, against the wall. The hammerhead pushed a drink across the table. “Welcome, my friend.” From the position of his eyestalks and the tone of his grayish skin, Muftak deduced that the Ithorian was glad to see him, but also apprehensive—not unexpected, in view of their meeting yesterday.

The Talz picked up his drink, a polaris ale appropriately tepid, and thrust his proboscis into the liquid, drawing deep. “Things are going well,