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Bossk adjusted his rifle sling. “I refuse to travel in any ship but my own. I have a YV-666 light freighter modified for Wookiee hunting. Do you have a problem traveling in that?”

Chen bared his teeth and answered evasively. It would’ve been easy to take Bossk down if they could talk him aboard their ship, but obviously Bossk was too intelligent to fall for that.

“He doesn’t,” Tinian translated. “Neither do I, if it means getting the price on Chewbacca.”

Bossk finally stretched the lower half of his face in a reptilian smile. “I must warn you: If you tamper with any of my onboard systems, the Hound’s Tooth will retaliate.”

Of course it would. It was undoubtedly equipped with multiple defenses against Wookiees’ strength.

He told Tinian to inform Bossk that traveling with him would keep their expenses down, since they were only getting fifteen percent apiece. As she translated, Chen sniffed the air. Bossk smelled as bitter as pain and as foul as death, but he hadn’t become defensive. From that subtle clue, Chen guessed that Bossk already intended treachery. He wouldn’t miss thirty percent of his take because he had no intention of paying it.

Fair enough. If Chen had his way, Bossk would not collect one limp credit. Chen knew about the Trandoshan religion. Having his jagannath score zeroed would hurt Bossk worse than ambushing and killing him.

That would be a pleasure.

To Tinian, Bossk looked impatient: He flexed his claws in rhythm, occasionally darting glances up the corridors. “I also expect you to pay half of my fueling costs,” he said.

In three years with Chen, Tinian had matured from a spoiled but sincere little rich girl into a seasoned resistance fighter. She sensed that Bossk was testing. “Ten percent,” she countered. “You’d make this trip without us, if you knew where to go.”

Bossk frowned. “Twenty. Programming my onboard systems to watch you will take time I could spend hunting Chewbacca.”

“Then don’t program them,” she snapped.

He curled a lip and hissed.

She’d heard that Trandoshans found mercy, graciousness, and other weaknesses contemptible. “Ten,” she repeated, “and that’s generous.”

“Why did you enter the Trade, Human? Your kind generally hasn’t the stomach for it.”

Tinian narrowed her eyes, an expression Trandoshans understood. “My capacity for kindness died three years ago. Criminals murdered my grandparents and my lover, my home was destroyed, and I put groundside life behind me. I don’t mind risking my life if the stakes are rewarding.”

Bossk stared, obviously thinking that through. Trandoshans took no lovers. Whenever they came back to Trandosha, they mated with a clutch mother who struck their fancy, then returned to their work.

But she’d had a lover. A fiance. Tinian tried to keep the image of Daye Azur-Jamin out of her mind’s eye. Daye’s had been a gentle face full of intelligence, with an odd silver streak marking one eyebrow. He’d been sensitive to the Force, a shrewd judge of character. Hard-working, too. And loyal to the death. Daye had sacrificed himself to help her escape the Imperial takeover of her grandparents’ armament factory. Since that day, she had dedicated her life to helping bring down the Empire. The sooner she died, the sooner she’d rejoin Daye.

Meanwhile, she had a job to attempt.

“Fifteen percent of fuel.” Bossk thrust out a clawed forearm.

Tinian sensed that she’d won as much as Bossk was willing to give. She reached out and touched his scales. Bossk swung his arm against a bulkhead, pinning her hand. Chenlambec extended a paw and got the same treatment: Bossk demanded command, two against one … and his ship. Those odds favored Bossk.

“Now,” said Bossk, “we will evaluate our resources.” He enumerated the Hound’s Tooth’s firepower. Before he finished, Chenlambec tapped the floor with one foot, and even Tinian felt nervous, even though she had practically grown up in her grandparents’ armament factory. Since leaving Druckenwell, she’d become even more competent with weapons, explosives, and armor. Knowledge helped make up for her