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“Luke—”

The tone of her voice made him look toward her. He saw anguish on her face, anxiety in her pleading eyes. “Do you think they might be holding us up here until they can get everything ready to grab us, or follow us?” Please do something! her expression cried.

“No,” Luke said, and reached across to touch her hand. “Teyr runs the shuttles themselves, and the space-lines have contracts with Teyr for priority landing access. They get to go first—we get to wait for an opening. It’s all right—they’re treating us the way we want them to. No special treatment, no special notice. They’ll get around to us soon. They want our money, too.”

“—Queue number alpha-three-nine, proceed to approach corridor for landing at Prye Folas—”

“There—see?” He squeezed her hand reassuringly, then moved his own hands back to the flight controls.

Relief was evident on her face. “Prye Folas—that’s good. It’s a long way from the Rift, but that doesn’t matter to us—it’s only one stop east of Turos Noth.”

“I’m glad someone studied their geography,” Luke said. “Snug up those straps, Lady Anna. Did you know that most crashes take place within sixty seconds of liftoff or touchdown?”

She frowned crossly at him. “Did you need to tell me?”

“I think I did,” Luke said, firing the braking thrusters to drop the skiff out of her parking orbit. “You seem to need something to worry about—I thought it might as well be something real.” He looked sideways at her and grinned. “One way or another, we’ll be on the ground in ten minutes.”

“You think this is helping, don’t you?”

“It’s just my way of saying, relax—”

“I can’t,” she said with a nervous sigh. “I’ve been waiting too long. I have too much at stake.”

Luke nodded understandingly. “In that case, I promise to try for the soft landing.”

For just a moment, he thought Akanah was going to punch him.

Luke’s landing at Prye Folas was better than soft. It was flawlessly smooth, the kind pilots call a first kiss.

It also put Mud Sloth right back in a line—this time, the long taxi line leading to the vast field of open-air tie-down berths. Teyr’s exorbitant landing fee didn’t buy “Li Stonn” a spot in a docking bay, or even secure covered stowage, for his ship.

“One good storm, and the shipbuilding trade has a record year next year,” Luke said, surveying the expansive, and expensive, assortment of vessels.

When the tow droid finally reached the assigned berth and backed Mud Sloth into its space, its port wing nestled under the thrustpods of a big Toltax Starstream, the port manager’s official voice—another droid—came over the open channel.

“Welcome to Prye Folas. In order to help ensure the safety of all visitors to Teyr, port regulations forbid occupancy of vessels in tie-down berths,” the droid said. “Please remove whatever personal articles you will need during your stay and seal your vessel, then wait for the arrival shuttle. In order to help ensure the safety of your vessel, access to this parking area is limited to arriving and departing visitors. This area is patrolled by port security. Thank you for including Teyr in your travel plans—”

“I’m ready,” Akanah said impatiently.

Luke powered down the skiff’s primary bus. “Let me grab my bag and put on my face.”

The arrival shuttle, a low-riding, slow-moving landspeeder, was piloted by still another late-model droid. Akanah and Luke caught two of the last three open seats, and the third was taken by the Elomin who emerged from the airspeeder parked across the towpath from Mud Sloth. When the shuttle was full, it rose several meters above the ground and sped off in the direction of the terminal. An empty shuttle immediately moved in to take its place.

“Quite an operation, don’t you think, dear?” Luke said. The voice of “Li Stonn” had a little tremble, a little added huskiness. “When you see this many droids, you know someone’s doing well.”

Akanah seemed inhibited by the other travelers close around them—the Elomin, immediately to her right, towered over her by more than a head. She answered only with a glance and