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A faint thread of expelled air, and Han recognized it as the ghost of a laugh. “Liar.… Han … got … to … tell you.”

Han swallowed. “Yeah? I’m listenin’ …”

“Name … my name … it ain’t … Solo. Lied to you.”

Han cleared his throat. “Yeah, I know, kid. That’s okay. I give it to you. Far as I’m concerned, you earned it long ago.”

“You … knew?”

“Sure. I’ve known from the beginning, Jarik.”

The lax fingers tightened once, and then released. Han leaned over, checked for a pulse, then gently released his grip and stood up. His eyes were stinging, and it took him a second to regain control. The medic bustled by, and Han grabbed her sleeve. “He’s gone. Where’s his ID?”

She handed him a com-chip. Han took it, then keyed in, “Jarik Solo,” under the “name of deceased” field.

The medic called for help, and two labor-droids trundled forward. Han watched as they efficiently wrapped the dead youth in the sheet, then carried him over to the row of bodies laid out neatly on the ground.

Before he could turn away, they were putting another wounded Rebel onto the stretcher. “Water …” the woman croaked. Han took out his flask. “You’re gonna be okay,” he said, as he helped her to drink. “Don’t worry.”

The woman drank thirstily. “Thanks.…” she slumped back onto the stretcher.

“That’s okay,” Han said. “What’s your name?”

“Lyndelah Jenwald.…” she muttered, and winced. “My arm hurts.…”

“We’ll get you some help,” Han promised, and went in search of a medic.

Satisfied that Jenwald was getting the attention she needed, he left the aid station and joined Lando, who looked at him sadly. “Han, I’m sorry. I tried to look after him, but they launched a grenade and I had to hit dirt, and the next thing I knew …” the gambler broke off, shaking his head.

Han nodded. “I know what it’s like. There wasn’t anything you coulda done, Lando. Don’t beat yourself up.” Han took a deep breath. “He was a good kid.”

“Yeah—” Lando broke off as both humans heard a familiar roar. Han hastily waved at Lando and went running away from the aid station toward Chewbacca.

The Wookiee, seeing that Han was still unharmed, grabbed Han’s shoulder and ruffled his hair in a Wookiee greeting. Han took a deep breath. “Chewie, pal,” he said, “brace yourself. Jarik bought it.”

The Wookiee stared at him for a moment, then threw back his head and voiced a roar of mingled rage and grief. Han silently echoed his friend’s distress.

Chewbacca pulled Han out of the way, began gesturing and growling emphatically. “Mrrov?” Han said. “Wounded? She gonna make it?”

Chewie wasn’t sure, but he thought so.

“I gotta go find Muuurgh,” Han said. “Tell you what, Chewie, you go get the Falcon, fly her over to that apron by the Admin Building. Then we’ll be ready to load ’er up.”

Chewie nodded and loped away. In moments his tall form was lost to view amid the hurrying troops, dodging between the parked shuttles and tramp freighters.

Han looked back for Lando, but his friend was gone. He went back to the aid station, asked where the Togorians were being cared for. The medic he questioned didn’t know. It took three tries for Han to find out.

Finally, he was directed to another auxiliary aid station, where most of the non-humanoids were being treated. Han saw Muuurgh’s huge black shape crouching beside a pallet, and hurried over.

“Hey, Muuurgh!”

The Togorian turned at the sound his voice, then leaped up and grabbed Han in a fierce hug. “Muuurgh is glad to see Han Solo. They are taking us up now, and Muuurgh did not wish to go without saying farewell.”

Han looked down at Mrrov. A bandage covered half her head. “What happened?”

“Muuurgh and Mrrov were on guard at the landing field, and three Gamorreans rushed us. She took two hits from a force-pike before Muuurgh tore her attacker’s throat out.”

“Oh, hey, pal … I’m so sorry.…” Han said. “She’s gonna be okay, isn’t she?”

“She has lost the eye,” Muuurgh said. “And medic says perhaps her hand must come off. He does not know. But she will live. And she will take pride in knowing