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Where Lucazec was rustic, Teyr was bureaucratic.

Located near the juncture of three busy spaceways and wearing a spectacular four-thousand-kilometer-long canyon like a dueling scar, Teyr was one of the New Republic’s boom worlds. Most of the boom was in visitors and vacationers. Fearing unbridled growth, Teyr’s leaders purposefully discouraged would-be immigrants with a maze of regulations, a series of successively higher application hurdles, and a determinedly officious Citizen Services Corps. The unofficial tourism motto was “Come see spectacular Teyr Rift. Then go home.”

While still inbound, Luke and Akanah were offered the unattractive choice of parking their craft at one of the vast orbital parking areas and shuttling down to the surface, or paying four times as much in landing fees to bring the skiff down at a spaceport of Teyr’s choosing.

“I don’t like the idea of being down there and having to depend on third parties to get back to our ship up here,” Luke said. “If someone should decide they want to delay our departure, I like our chances better if we don’t have to jump quite so high.”

“But I don’t have that kind of money, Luke,” said Akanah. “You know that.”

“I think Li Stonn is good for it,” Luke said. He flashed a wry smile that disappeared behind his illusion of age, then tapped the comm key. “Teyr Flight Control, this is Mud Sloth—I’d like to request landing authorization.”

“Copy, Mud Sloth, your queue number is alpha-three-nine, confirm.”

“Confirm, alpha-three-nine,” Luke said. “Could you tell me, is there any chance that we could possibly put down at Turos Noth? We’re going to be meeting some friends—”

“Landing sites are allocated on a space-available basis according to standard protocols. Ground transportation is available at all spaceports. The Rift Skyrail connects all spaceports with all major population centers and with visitor centers, trailheads, and resort destinations in the Rift Territory. Monitor this channel for further landing instructions. This is Teyr Flight Control, end transmission.”

Luke and Akanah exchanged bemused looks.

“They wouldn’t have dared give Luke Skywalker number thirty-nine,” she said.

“Too bad he couldn’t join us for this trip,” Luke said, allowing his disguise to dissolve.

“I wonder how many times a shift they have to recite that,” Akanah said.

“I don’t think they care,” said Luke, then explained, “It was a droid. I couldn’t touch it.” He nodded past Akanah. “Are any of the stuffed koba left? I think we might have time to eat before the skids get dirty.”

As Luke had suspected, there was more than enough time. Following directions from Flight Control, Mud Sloth joined a long queue of yachts and liners in a high orbit over Teyr. Six full revolutions later, they were still there, though most of the ships in front of them—and several behind them as well—had already made their descent and been replaced by newer arrivals.

“Nice view,” Akanah said. “Do you think they’ll ever let us any closer?”

“No,” said Luke. “I knew we should have told them we had eighty-two paying customers aboard, all eager to start shopping.”

“Eighty-two?” she said, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

“Ewoks,” Luke said, shrugging. “You should see the way they live. It’s nothing like in the holos. Twenty-four to a room, stacked in layers, boy, girl, boy, girl—”

“You’ve been in space too long,” she said, with a disapproving frown. “Maybe we didn’t hear our call.”

“—Queue number alpha-eight-one, proceed to approach—”

“Eighty-one!” Akanah exclaimed indignantly. “Why is everyone going before us?”

“Because whatever kind of priority list they’re using, they put people who own Verpine Adventurers at the bottom of it,” Luke said.

“Will you please stop making jokes?”

“Sometimes there’s no other recourse,” said Luke. “What happened to your implacable calm?”

“This is making me crazy,” Akanah said.

“I can tell.”

“Can’t we just disguise ourselves as some other ship and take its landing instructions?”

“There’s a little problem about two objects occupying