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The Chadra-Fan’s shoulders sagged. “Bantha dung!”

“Kabe … you came back …”

It was Muftak, and he was regarding her incredulously, his eyes still clouded with smoke. “I thought you’d be halfway home by now.”

Kabe kicked the crumbling garden wall disgustedly. “Muftak, you’re so cursed stupid! Of course I couldn’t leave you in there, when you’re too dumb to get out of there by yourself. You’d have been bantha fodder for sure!”

The Talz regarded her quizzically, then, suddenly, he buzzed with soft amusement. “Kabe … you saved my life. You and Kay-eight. You came back to save me.”

The Chadra-Fan put both hands on her hips and glared at him. “Well, of course I did, you idiot! We’re partners, aren’t we?”

Muftak nodded. “That’s for sure, Kabe. Partners. Come, let’s get out of here.”

The two began skulking along, automatically moving in shadows, avoiding passersby. Behind them, the blaze was spreading. “The walls won’t burn,” Muftak observed, “but the interior is going to be gutted, at this rate.”

“Jabba’s so rich he’ll fix it up, no problem,” Kabe said truthfully. “Muftak … one thing puzzles me. Who opened the door?”

“It must have been the droid,” the Talz replied. “I only hope that Bib Fortuna didn’t see it helping us out. If he did, there’s no hope for Kay-eight Ellarr.”

“Where will we go now?” Kabe, ever-practical, asked.

“Momaw Nadon’s house. He’ll hide us … if he’s alive. And there were no reports of his death, so he must have managed to outmaneuver Alima somehow.”

“But we can’t stay here …” Kabe wailed. “Our lives won’t be worth Sarlacc spit if Jabba finds out who messed up his house!”

Muftak gave her a long look. “You’re right … we can’t stay here. We’re getting out of Mos Eisley and off Tatooine before anyone can inform on us.”

“How, Muftak? We lost almost all of our loot!” Which wasn’t quite true … Kabe could feel the small bulges of half a dozen gems in her robe.

“Have you forgotten the datadot?” Smugly, the Talz patted his furry belly.

Kabe stared at him, wide-eyed, then began to chatter happily to herself. “Thirty thousand! And it will all be ours! And you didn’t even want to go into that room … I practically had to drag you! I told you you’d never regret this night, Muftak, didn’t I? Didn’t I?”

Silently, the big Talz nodded agreement.

Two nights later, in the secret hiding place beneath the roots of the Ithorian’s carnivorous vesuvague tree, Muftak faced the Mon Calamari that Momaw Nadon had conducted there to meet him. “Barid Mesoriaam said this was to be for General Dodonna’s eyes only,” the Talz said.

“I understand,” the fish-being said, holding out a finned hand. “The datadot, please?”

“First, our payment,” Kabe piped up. “Do you think we’re stupid?”

Silently, the Mon Calamari produced credits from a pouch that made the Chadra-Fan’s eyes gleam avidly. Muftak hastily counted it. “There is only fifteen thousand here,” he complained. “We were promised thirty.”

“I have something better than credits, to make the rest of the payment,” promised the Rebel contact, reaching into his pocket.

“What could be better than credits?” scoffed Kabe, openly contemptuous.

“These—” the spy said, holding up two official-looking stamped and sealed documents. “Two letters of transit, signed by Grand Moff Tarkin himself. With these, you can go anywhere!”

Muftak stared at the documents, all four eyes huge. Letters of transit! With these they’d be able to reach Alzoc III—and then, perhaps, Chadra, Kabe’s world of origin.

“But obtaining passage out of Mos Eisley is still no easy task …” Muftak said, taking the precious documents and stowing them, along with the credits, in his pouch. Gravely, he handed over the datadot.

“Passage has been arranged, my friend,” Momaw Nadon said, stepping out of the shadows. “You leave tonight. Perhaps, now that you have those …”—the Ithorian cocked one eyestalk in the direction of the letters of transit—“you will one day be able to aid the Rebellion again.”

“Don’t count on it, Momaw,” Kabe squeaked. “We’re in this for ourselves, not for any Rebellion, right, Muftak?”

The Talz scratched