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Tinian crouched alongside the communication console, steadying herself against the starboard bulkhead, wearing a lightweight headset. So far, she heard only static.

Bossk took the main chair with Chen as his copilot. Chen had told her that he thought Bossk was amused to let a Wookiee sit on his bridge. Bossk had brought up the bridge lights. His greenish scales showed orange undertones where the lights caught them.

Bossk killed the hyperdrive. The Hound cut in its sublights, and a star system appeared. According to the navicomputer readout, it had six planets in erratic orbits. They looked more like electrons’ orbitals than a flat planetary ecliptic, as if the Lomabu system had been stirred by a passing stellar giant. Bossk had oriented the Hound’s Tooth to the third planet’s orbital plane. From this distance, it looked like a small blue disk with one moon: According to scanners, its surface was almost entirely covered by ocean, with long archipelagoes marking arcs where tectonic plates collided.

“Excellent,” Bossk hissed. “Hound, establish a momentum course and cut engines.”

“Confirmed.” The ship fell silent. To casual scanners it would look like an eccentric asteroid passing the planet.

Tinian watched Bossk flick a control alongside one of his forearm troughs. He’d have to utilize shipboard scanners sparingly now. Stray transmissions would be picked up by Imperial sentries … though he thought he was hiding from Wookiee sentinels.

Chenlambec hooted. “Could the Falcon be in scanner range?” Tinian translated.

Bossk eyed the boards. “If the Falcon is here at all,” he said. “If you two have led me astray, I will sell you both to the highest bidder.”

The image of a colonial installation appeared on the Hound’s main scanner. Chen had told Tinian it would correspond closely to the layout of Gandolo IV. Bossk flicked the scan once more, narrowing its search band.

An irregular shape dropped toward the Lomabu “colony.”

“Corellian YT-1300 freighter,” announced the Hound’s baritone. “Modified. Heavily modified. Illegally modified. Crew and passengers: one Wookiee, two humans.”

Bossk snapped off the board with a left foreclaw. “We have them!” he exulted.

Tinian thought she heard something. She touched her headphones. “Listen!”

Bossk amplified the transmission over a bridge speaker. “Very funny,” drawled a male human. “But what we want is landing clearance. You going to give it, or shall I take this stuff and sell it back to Nada Synnt?”

“Solo,” Bossk hissed. “Shut down all power.”

The bridge went dark.

Tinian raised her tiny luma inside one hand. Red light welled through her fingers. Plan Three, then. She’d hoped not to run Plan Three. Chen, I hope you’re ready. She pressed to her feet. “Let’s go get them.” Trying to sound cocky, she slapped her blaster. “It’s time for a recharge, Bossk. And Chen needs his bowcaster.”

Bossk drew his forearms out of the troughs and rubbed them against each other. “Tinian, I want you and your Wookiee to determine Solo’s likely avenues of escape. Count his allies and resources. This will be excellent experience to round out your apprenticeship.”

“We don’t want to use those scanners again,” she objected.

Bossk flicked his tongue. “You’re right I’m sending you out in my scout craft, the Nashtah Pup.”

The Pup was as sweet a scout ship as Chenlambec had ever crewed, despite its unfamiliar controls … and it had broadband transceivers, including Chen’s personal favorite, single sideband. Its console curved around two black leather crew seats, with scanners mounted to create the illusion of looking out two trapezoidal windows, just as on the Hound’s Tooth’s bridge.

Chen steered it back toward the Hound to get the feel of maneuvering. The bigger ship had popped a dorsal hatch to launch the Pup; slowly it dropped shut behind them. Now it was easy to see that the oval Hound’s primary engines lay under its main deck, with exhaust ports across its aft quarter.

“Watch it,