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Lando fidgeted, anxious to see Mara again, anxious to sit back in the plush cushions of his own pilot chair, to luxuriate in the smell and feel of his own ship.

They entered the cave mouth of the moon garrison, flying past the thick blast doors into the garish light of a large landing bay. The atmosphere-containment fields closed behind them and repressurized the habitable area. The Falcon coasted in on its repulsorlifts and landed in a broad polished area beside the Lady Luck.

Mara Jade swung out, clad in a tight metallic jumpsuit with a helmet tucked under her right elbow. As she tossed her head to loosen her dark, reddish-brown hair, she narrowed her eyes. Lando stared with a warm-cold shudder at the energy and intelligence that radiated from this woman. He marveled at her generous curves, her tough exterior.

“Hey, Mara,” Han said, “where did you find Lando’s ship? We thought we were going to have to spend days combing the surface for it.”

“Right where Lando claims he landed it. Seems nobody had time to strip her down and remove the identification markings.”

Lando glanced around the garrison bay, but all the ships looked unfamiliar, custom designs—not the barely moving scrap heaps that had made up Doole’s fleet. These were emblazoned with markings unique to each vessel, though each carried a crosshatched design on the wing.

Mara noticed his inspection. “That’s our new insignia for the Smugglers’ Alliance,” she said. “Not too obvious, but enough for us.”

“What happened to all of Doole’s ships?” Lando sniffed the enclosed dry air, smelling the powdered rock and spilled hyperdrive fuel that made the air sour and unpleasant.

“Ninety percent of Doole’s ships were obliterated in their tangle with Daala’s Star Destroyers. Most of the surviving pilots took their ships and fled into hyperspace. No one knows where they are now—and frankly, I don’t really care.

“When a few New Republic relief ships came in, they evacuated most of the inhabitants, the prisoners in the Imperial Correction Facility, a few holdouts in the city of Kessendra. Nobody wants to make a life on Kessel if they have another option.”

“So what you’re saying,” Lando said, letting his hopes rise, “is that Kessel is deserted, ready for the taking?”

“Yes,” Mara said. “I’ve talked over your proposal with some members of our Alliance, and it sounds good to us. Not only have you proved your ability in your other ventures, but you’ve also got strong connections with the New Republic, which will allow efficient distribution channels for glitterstim. You’ve even got enough money to invest in the new infrastructure.” She shrugged. “Sounds like a good deal all around.”

Lando beamed. “I knew you’d realize that being partners with me is a very good deal.”

Mara turned abruptly and continued with her discussion, ignoring his insinuation. “But we need to move right away. We’ve heard talk of other, less-scrupulous crime lords arranging to take over the mines. The spice tunnels are empty, ripe for the plucking. Frankly, we’d rather deal with you, Calrissian, than someone who’s going to bring in his own teams and cut the Smugglers’ Alliance out of the entire operation. That’s why we brought our forces here to hold it, just in case some Hutt crime lord gets any ideas.”

“Makes sense to me,” Han said.

Lando rubbed his hands together, looking at the other ships in the bay. Various smugglers moved around, humans and aliens, burly-looking men and women, people he wouldn’t want to meet alone in the dim lower levels of Coruscant. “Should we go down and have a look at the real estate?”

“Fine.” Mara snapped to attention. “Let’s go ahead and take your ship, Calrissian. You pilot her.”

Lando reveled in the feel of his controls again, running his hands along the soft, polished seats. This was his own space yacht, specially built to his personal design. Now he was riding in the cockpit with a beautiful, intelligent woman, heading down to a planet where he intended to make a fortune. He didn’t think the day could possibly get better.

He was right.

When they soared low over