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Cautiously avoiding the sand, he crawled close to the guard tower. He chose an explosive quarrel from his bandolier. Keeping his elbows low, he fitted it to his bowcaster, aimed carefully, and let it fly.

The tower erupted in orange flame. A human voice shouted. Chen sprang up and dashed for the promontory. He’d’ve liked to have seen how that explosion looked on Bossk’s sensors, since it would show up in the middle of a scene that didn’t exist.

As he jogged up, Tinian stood close to the Pup’s boarding ladder. “Don’t step on that sand!” she cried. “It—”

He roared agreement and a query as he clambered aboard.

“I’m fine. But are you?”

He vaulted into the cockpit and almost slipped in a red puddle. Tinian had lain the dead Wookiees between hatch and crew chairs. “No place else to put them,” she apologized, climbing in after him. “As soon as I brought them out of freeze, they started bleeding.”

He demanded to know what she’d done with the carbon freeze units.

“I lugged them up into the forest. I don’t think Bossk will find them there.”

And hauled two Wookiees up the boarding ladder? She should’ve let him do that. Chen dropped into his chair and grasped the controls.

Once berthed on the Hound, Tinian sprang the Pup’s hatch. Bossk stood below her, silhouetted by lights that looked almost normally bright. “Now the Wookiee criminals know that we’re here,” the Trandoshan snarled. “Is that all you accomplished?”

“No,” Tinian snarled back. That wasn’t difficult; her back hurt. “We also performed our evaluation. Solo and Chewbacca can’t escape overland. There’s a colony of living, eating sand all along the shoreline, so they’ll have to take off upward if they try to escape us. Allies and resources? Plenty of Wookiees, but not as many as there were yesterday. Help us offload these pelts. There’s still meat on them.”

“Pelts?” Bossk shuffled up to the main hatch and peered in. “Did you actually—”

He fell silent. The fresh-looking corpses still lay bleeding on the deck. Chenlambec sat his station, baring his teeth in a howl. Tinian translated accurately this time. “Criminals. A gift,” she added, “just in case you still doubt us. Chen knocked off two sentries.”

Bossk reached down. He stroked one pelt, a rich brown tipped in black. “I had doubted that you would kill free Wookiees,” he answered. “I believe you now. I accept your gift.”

Sure you believe us. Tinian let Bossk manhandle the cooling bodies off the Pup. Chen remained in his seat, curling his lip. He blinked rapidly, a sign of nausea. He asked her to tell Bossk something convincing.

“He wants me to say,” said Tinian, “that he finds your end of the Hunting trade repugnant. But we understand financial necessity.”

Bossk summoned X10-D as they climbed down. “Excellent pelts.” He stroked the other, which was solid black. “Prime condition. Maybe one hundred and fifty years?”

Chen turned his head.

Fortunately, X10-D rolled into the docking bay and stopped Bossk from making Chen feel any sicker. The draft droid dragged both corpses up the passage toward the aft hold. Bossk followed, stepping lightly. Tinian recalled the skinning rack and dip tank.

Chen slumped, shivering and keening.

Hesitantly Tinian laid a hand on his shoulder. When he didn’t brush her off, she tightened it. Chen felt her strongest grip as a gentle caress. “They would rejoice,” she whispered, “to know that in death they are helping end this carnage.”

He laid back his head and cried out softly.

“And we’ve seen the way Bossk covets your pelt, Ng’rhr.” She squeezed his shoulder again, then walked away from him, struck by the thought that if she lost Chenlambec, she would be orphaned again. Her mother had abandoned her as a newborn. Her grandparents had been coldly murdered. Daye lay crushed under tons of rubble.

The Hound’s deck blurred.

She mustn’t let him see her like this. “You’ll notice he didn’t order us back to our cabin—and we can see,” she muttered. “Let’s get something to eat.”

She set