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Of all ships, he said to himself as the vessel’s faded and battle-scarred legend came into view. The Queen of Empire.

Originally owned and operated by Haj Shipping Lines, a company whose loyalty to the Empire and the Alliance had varied in response to which side had the most to offer, the Queen had been the vessel of choice for passengers traveling between Corellia and Gyndine—with numerous ports of call en route—and occasionally Rimward as far as Nar Hekka, in Hutt space.

Slightly larger than an Imperial Star Destroyer, the ship was capable of carrying tens of thousands, but instead had restricted its passenger list to a mere five thousand, so as to provide unparalleled comfort, exceptional service, and more diversions than anyone had a right to savor. Species-specific pools, spas, restaurants, shopping malls, climate zones, and exercise rooms, tonsorial parlors for the hirsute and buffing stations for the smooth-skinned, jizz lounges and null-g ballrooms, casinos, observation blisters, and amusement areas … all on more decks than could possibly be explored on a single cruise. The plushest of her many nightclubs had been the Star Winds lounge, where fifteen-limbed Rughjas had played the finest in swing-bob, and affluent passengers had danced the margengai-glide till all hours.

In her heyday, the Queen had rivaled the older Quamar Messenger and the Mon Calamari starliner Kuari Princess and had been the template for newer vessels, such as the Tinta Palette and Jewel of Churba. But frequently the target of pirates, a magnet for meteors, and once stranded in hyperspace for five days, the Queen had fallen on hard times.

Han had never been aboard, but he had heard all about the ship from Lando, who had met Han’s first love, Bria Tharen, aboard the Queen. Bria was by then a high-ranking member of the Corellian resistance, and Lando, his usual dapper self.

Han was still deep in recollection when he transferred to the liner, and it wasn’t until he was aboard that he grasped just how far the Queen had fallen.

While he and a handful of others actually held tickets, the ship was overwhelmed with keelrunners, casualties of war, and refugees previously stranded on Ord Mantell and the Wheel and now on their way to various Colony and Core worlds, thanks in large part to Leia’s efforts.

A babel of languages and a dizzying amalgam of smells, the Queen’s once grand ballrooms and lounges had become temporary camps, where folks of a hundred different species huddled inside makeshift tents and shelters, carefully safeguarding children, pets, or what little foodstuffs and belongings they possessed. Among them roamed guards and soldiers, settling disputes over deck space or alleged theft, or breaking up vicious fights born of plain and simple discrimination. Also circulating were droids, vendors, and hawkers—many protected by bodyguards—charging exorbitant prices for quick-prep meals, derma supplements, dubious pharmaceuticals, and tickets to the portable refreshers that lined some of the passageways.

Picking his way among everyone, Han followed deck routing lines to the sour-smelling, cramped compartment to which his ticket entitled him. Perching himself on the edge of the tiny, swaybacked bed, he considered his situation. The cabin space didn’t bother him; Bilbringi was only two jumps distant, and the Queen was scheduled to arrive within three ship days. Once there—where Han had contacts and acquaintances—he would snoop around for Reck or other members of the Peace Brigade, and perhaps even get a lead on what had happened to victims of the Yuuzhan Vong attack on the Jubilee Wheel.

He dozed for a few moments and awoke ravenous—no surprise, in that he hadn’t eaten anything since bar snacks in the Lady Fate Casino.

Ticketed passengers were supposed to be afforded exclusive privileges to both an upper-deck cafeteria and the only restaurant that hadn’t been converted into living spaces for the refugees. But crowding had overtaxed whatever controls had once been in place, and the cafeteria had been set upon by near-starved passengers. By