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Reck frowned. “A man has to work.”

Han lunged for him, barely managing to wrap his hands around Reck’s neck before someone knocked him to the deck.

“I don’t mind a turncoat, Reck,” Han said, gazing up as he got to his feet, “but I draw the line at second-rate ones. You’re going to give mercenaries a bad name.”

Reck’s rejoinder was a sneer. He pulled out his personal comlink and thumbed it on. “We’ve got them,” he said into the pickup. “We’ll be heading back to the ship momentarily.”

“Won’t do you much good,” a brittle voice replied from the unit. “We can’t detach from the airlock. All systems, even sublight and repulsors, are down. No response at all from the dovin basal. It’s like the thing’s gone into stasis.”

Reck swung to the unmasker’s handler, who looked mystified.

“Have you attempted to contact the Yuuzhan Vong ship?” Reck said into the comlink.

“No response.”

Reck cursed. “All right,” he said after a moment. “I’ll take her to them in my shuttle.”

The man at the other end of the link laughed. “It’s doomsday out here, Reck. You’ll be lucky to clear the launch bay without getting yourself wasted.”

“Are the weapons operating?”

“Affirmative.”

“Then you just clear a path for me. The New Republic’s not going to interfere while we’re holding several thousand hostages. Once I make the Yuuzhan Vong ship, I’ll see to it that the rest of you are brought over.”

Reck switched off the comlink. He had his mouth open to say something to Han when another Peace Brigade contingent arrived on the scene, making haste for the docking bay. Supported by two of them was a wounded Rodian who had to be Capo.

“You people are supposed to be on the bridge,” Reck bellowed.

“This is your operation, Reck,” the largest among them answered. “You want to stay and feed refugees to the vacuum, that’s your business. But we’re out of here.”

The man who had discovered Han and Droma started to raise his disruptor rifle, but Reck restrained him.

“Knock it off. Fighting among ourselves isn’t going to do any good. We’ll pack the shuttles and convoy for the Yuuzhan Vong ship.”

Han smirked. “Proverbial droch in the ointment, huh, Reck?”

Reck gestured two of the men to take charge of Vergere, then he turned to Han. “You know, I’m less worried about interference from those starfighters than I am about interference from you.”

He drew his blaster and ordered Han to move to the nearest drop shaft. Droma followed silently. At the blaster’s insistence, Han backed himself to the edge of the tube, then he held his hand over it.

“Not much of a breeze,” he thought to point out.

Reck grinned. “You always were a funny guy, Han.”

Han shrugged. “You know what they say about a punch line being the best revenge.”

Reck considered it. “If we’d met somewhere else, we could be sharing ice-cold Gizers right now. But I can’t have you trying to follow us or talking to your New Republic friends. You’ve got way too much good fortune on your side. You always did.”

“Seem’s my luck’s run out,” Han and Droma said at the same time.

Reck looked from one to the other, then laughed shortly. “You two make quite a pair. Too bad I’ve got to split you up.” He lifted the blaster’s barrel. “Down you go, Han. Next stop, the cargo hold.”

Han gulped. “Come on, Reck, you don’t need to do this. For old times’ sake.”

“Oh, but I do, old friend.” Again, he motioned with the blaster. “Be a good sport. Don’t make me shoot you.”

Han tightened the straps of his travel pack, thinking that it might somehow cushion his fall. Then he squared his shoulders and blew out his breath. Narrowing his eyes at Reck, he took a backward step into the abyss.

Droma let out an anguished shriek and went rigid with shock.

TWENTY-FIVE

Relayed to Obroa-skai by signal villip, the fierce fighting at the Rimward edge of the Bilbringi system unfolded in real time for commanders Malik Carr and Tla, tactician Raff, and Harrar, aboard the priest’s faceted starship.

“The Peace Brigade gunship has made several attempts at communication,” a villip of Nom Anor reported, “but we have refused