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There was a cry from the Wookiee at the door, and then the achingly familiar roar of the Falcon’s engines.

“Enara—” Han said plaintively.

Then his legs buckled under him. Chewbacca caught him cleanly before he hit the deck, and would not listen to his protests as he carried him away.

Enara never looked up. Han’s last glimpse of her was of a tiny woman with tangled hair, sitting cross-legged beside the man whose life she had just helped preserve.

At just about the same time that the Millennium Falcon was roaring away from Pride of Yevetha behind a curtain of exploding firecracker mines, Mud Sloth was dropping out of hyperspace in front of the Fifth Fleet’s flag group.

Even as the forward pickets were relaying the contact to Intrepid, the gunship Warrior surged ahead, breaking formation to place itself on an intercept course.

“Contact ahead,” the tactical officer announced to the bridge. “Type not identified. Size class, F—possibly a probe of some sort. She came right out of the heart of the cluster.”

On the other side of the room, a blank display at comm three suddenly lit up with a string of numbers. “Receiving transmission from the contact—they’re attempting to authorize a link.”

That drew Warrior’s captain over to peer at the screen. “Sender code is valid, but it’s coming over the air, unsecured—that’s not a military transmitter,” said the comm specialist. “Same with the authorization code—checks as valid but not current. Someone’s trying to get in the front door without a key.”

“I’d like to know who,” said the captain. “Identify the sender code.”

“Sir, it returns as classified.”

“Really,” said the captain. “Take us to level two alert and authorize the link.”

The numbers vanished from the display, to be replaced by Luke Skywalker’s face.

“Captain,” said Luke’s holo. “Do you recognize me?”

“I recognize who you appear to be,” said the captain. “I have no information that that person was known or expected to be in this sector.”

“Very good, Captain. By now you should have an identification on this ship and an assessment of its threat potential.”

The captain looked away toward the tactical officer. “Transponder says it’s civilian, yacht, skiff class, unarmed—now confirming from direct scans. It’s a Verpine Adventurer, sir.”

There were several snorts and chuckles around the room.

“ ‘Unarmed’ is not confirmed, Lieutenant,” the captain said, turning back. “A ship of that size could easily carry tactical munitions in its passenger compartment.”

Luke nodded in agreement. “I’d appreciate it if you’d rendezvous with me and have your people inspect the ship. Once you’ve satisfied yourself that I am who I appear to be, and that we haven’t replaced the refresher with a fusion bomb,” he said lightly, “I trust you can arrange for a ride or an escort to the flagship. I am carrying some extremely important information for the fleet commander.”

The captain was well disciplined or stubborn enough not to bend. “Continue on your present course,” he said. “Keep this channel open. We will rendezvous with you shortly.” But when the link was closed, he turned to comm one. “Signal Intrepid, secure. Notify the general that Luke Skywalker is inbound.”

When the message had been sent, comm two craned his head around toward the captain. “This is good news, right, sir?”

“I hope so, Lieutenant,” the captain said grimly. “I dearly hope so.”

By the time Mud Sloth came to rest in slots thirty-nine and forty on Intrepid’s forward flight deck, everyone in that section of the ship—and many elsewhere, in every other section—knew that Luke Skywalker was coming aboard.

No official announcement had been made. The scuttlebutt spread among the officers and crew via two distinct chains of friendships and contacts—with equal rapidity, but slightly different flavors of meaning. Among the officers, it was styled as “Heard the big news?” To the crew, it was definitely good news.

Luke could see it in the grins of the deck crew as they