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Only the stragglers of the last watch to be recalled from liberty were aboard the tail-sitting shuttles that rose from the surface to the station. Only the most urgent supplies joined the stragglers aboard the tenders and tugs that moved back and forth between the station and the Fleet like scuttling insects.

“You should have just gone on up without me,” said Skids, peering worriedly ahead through the viewport for the carrier Imperious.

Tuketu’s long limbs were sprawled casually across three of the tug’s tiny passenger couches. “The heck with that,” he said, his tone light. “I never go anywhere without my triggerman.”

“We’re both going to get black-marked for sure. We’ll be lucky if we both don’t get taken off the flight roster.”

“Well—we’ve been pretty lucky together, right?”

Skids shook his head, only half listening. “I had it all timed out to the minute—exactly when I had to leave Noria’s to get back to Newport. How was I supposed to know that a Duraka gang was going to hit the resort exchange?”

“No way you could, Skids. So stop sweating it.”

“The police kept everything bigger than a bird on the ground for almost eleven hours, till they caught them. And then I get pulled down over Surtsey for speeding, trying to make up time—over Surtsey, mind you. If they’ve got enough aircops to patrol Surtsey, you think they’d be able to catch a couple of four-foot-tall jewel thieves a little faster—”

“There she is,” Tuketu said, pointing toward the upper right corner of the viewport.

“What? Where? Oh—all right. Be there in no time now,” Skids said, settling down in an empty seat. “You think they’ll move Hodo up to squadron commander? I’d rather it was Hodo than Miranda, myself. I don’t know how you feel—”

“Skids—”

“What?”

“You’re babbling.”

“Am I? Okay. You’re right, I am. I’ll stop,” Skids said, his expression sheepish. “I just feel so bad about all this, is all. I can’t believe it happened.” He glanced at his watch. “Almost twelves hours late—the captain’s going to stuff us in a drone and use us for target practice. Next time, don’t wait for me. Just leave me there and go on up by yourself—”

Standing inside the hatch of the four-seat shuttle he had flown up to the Glorious, General Han Solo tugged unhappily at the stiff fabric of his uniform, vainly trying to make it more comfortable. He had gained weight on two months of regular family meals, which only made matters worse. He heard Leia’s voice telling him, You look dashingly handsome, dear. It’s your head that’s uncomfortable in uniform, not your body. Sighing, he surrendered and pushed the hatch release.

The flight-deck crew already had an egress ladder in place for him, and the deck officer was waiting at the bottom of it.

“Lieutenant,” Han said. “Permission to come aboard.”

“General Solo, sir! Granted—welcome aboard. I hadn’t heard that you were coming to see us off, sir.”

“I’m not,” said Han, smartly descending the ladder. “I’m coming along for the ride. Have my gear brought off, and then get one of your ferry pilots to take this thing back to the station before you lock down, would you?”

“Yes, sir, right away.” The lieutenant’s startled look quickly gave way to the slightly worshipful eagerness Han had learned to expect, but never to accept. “I’m just sorry you didn’t come up in the Falcon, sir. I would have liked to see her.”

“I’d kinda like to see her right now myself,” said Han. “Where is General A’baht?”

“The general is not aboard, sir. We’re expecting him at any time. Captain Morano is on the bridge. I’d be happy to show you the way.”

Looking past the lieutenant, Han scanned the cruiser’s bay, making a quick inventory of its contents.

“Looks like a tight pack,” he said with a nod.

“Yes, sir. Capacity plus. Took in half a dozen more E-wings this morning. But we can still get things moved around when we need to, so it’s not too bad.”

“Make sure you can get them launched in a hurry,” said Han. “That’s what counts most in a scrap.”

“Yes, sir. Would you