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The droid’s lights flashed frantically. Han’s finger tightened on the trigger as he wondered whether he’d have the strength to crawl to the airlock. Blackness hovered at the edges of his vision.

“Yes, sir,” the R2 said. “I am doing as you request.”

Moments later Han felt the concussion as air whoomped into the Dream with near-explosive force. Gasping, he counted to twenty, then, with the last of his remaining strength, wrenched off his helmet. He let himself sink back down onto the deck.

He gasped, found he could breathe, and gulped huge lungfuls of fresh air. Warm air, humid air, air laden with smells he couldn’t identify. But it was rich with oxygen, eminently breathable, and that was all he cared about at the moment.

Closing his eyes, Han concentrated on simply breathing, and felt exhaustion overwhelm him. His head throbbed, and he needed just a moment to rest. Just a moment …

When Han swam back up to full consciousness and opened his eyes, he found he was staring into a face out of a nightmare. That is the ugliest critter I’ve ever seen! was his first thought. Only years of experience in dealing with nonhumans of all varieties made him able to control his initial reaction.

The face was broad, with two bulbous, protruding eyes, and covered with leathery grayish-tan skin. No visible ears, and only slits for nostrils. Above the nostril slits was a large, blunt horn that was nearly as long as Han’s forearm. The mouth was a wide, lipless split in the huge head.

Han shook his own pounding head and managed to sit up, noting from his surroundings that he appeared to be in some type of infirmary. A medical droid hovered across the room, lights flashing.

His host (if that was who the creature was) was big, Han realized. Much bigger even than a Wookiee. It somewhat resembled a Berrite, in that it walked on four tree-trunklike legs, but it was far larger. This creature’s head was appended to a short, humped neck that was attached to a massive body. Han figured its back would reach his shoulders when he was standing up. The leathery skin covering its body hung in creases, wrinkles, and loose folds, especially on its short, almost nonexistent neck. The skin shone with an oily gleam.

The four short legs ended in huge, padded feet. A long, whippy tail was carried curled over its back. For a moment Han wondered if the creature had any manipulatory limbs, but then he noticed two undersized arms that were folded against its chest, half-hidden by the loose folds of neck skin. The being’s hands were delicate, almost feminine, with four long, supple fingers on each hand.

The being opened its mouth and spoke in accented, but understandable Basic. “Greetings, Mr. Draygo. Allow me to welcome you to Ylesia. Are you a pilgrim?”

“But I’m not …” Han muttered, his head spinning. For a moment the name didn’t connect, then things snapped into place. Of course. He clamped his mouth shut, thinking that maybe he’d gotten a worse knock on the head than he’d realized. Vykk Draygo was the alias whose ID he’d currently been carrying.

Han had several alter egos, with proper documentation to back them up. Ironically, he had nothing by way of ID under his true name.

“Sorry,” he muttered, holding his hand to his head, hoping his slip would be excused as a result of his head injury “I’m still kind of shaken up, I guess. No, I’m not a pilgrim I came here to answer a job advertisement for someone—preferably a Corellian—to do the piloting here.”

“I see. But how did you happen to be aboard our ship when it crashed?” the creature inquired.

“I wanted to reach Ylesia as quickly as possible, so I tool the opportunity to stow away on the Ylesian Dream,” Han said. “I’d have had to wait a week for a commercial flight and the ad said a pilot was urgently needed. Did you get my message?”

“Yes, we did,” the being said. Han watched it intently wishing he could read its expression. “We were expecting you—but not in the Ylesian Dream.”

“See, I brought the ad with me.” Han reached for his jumpsuit that was hanging over a