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“Sown with obstacles.”

Nas Choka turned slightly to favor Nom Anor with a faint smile. “It appears that you have been successful in persuading them that we plan to attack Corellia.”

Nom Anor inclined his head in a nod.

“Then it shouldn’t matter if we advance the attack.” Nas Choka swung to his subaltern. “Apprise all commanders that we launch for Fondor as soon as the final coralskippers are docked.”

In the passenger hold of the Trevee, Gaph danced while he sang:

Life is a journey without end,

for the Ryn more than any.

From a home unknown we wander,

Star to star in a constant quest.

We abhor the stars for what they have wrought:

Instigators of our ill-fortune,

Grave sentinels of our fate.

But we load our packs with joy;

And song and dance follow at our heels.

Now Abregado-rae awaits;

Home for a time,

Until we are forced to wander anew.

Melisma and the other Ryn capered with him or accompanied his improvised song on musical instruments. Some hummed and tooted through their perforated beaks, while the rest played drums, finger cymbals, and flutes fashioned from scavenged parts of machinery, pilfered gear, or whatever was handy.

The fact that the festive melody of Gaph’s song belied an underlying melancholy was lost on those non-Ryn refugees who clapped in time to the music and applauded the dancers’ graceful leaps and fleet pirouettes.

Gaph was only a stanza into a second verse when the Trevee shuddered abruptly.

“We’re reverting from hyperspace,” one of the refugees said when the musicians had stopped playing.

Melisma, Gaph, and some of the other Ryn hurried excitedly to an observation blister, eager for a first glimpse of Abregado-rae. But in place of the light-green sphere they had expected to see was a brownish world, partially eclipsed by clouds sullied with industrial pollutants and surrounded by hundreds of enormous orbital construction platforms.

“This isn’t Abregado-rae,” someone behind Melisma said.

“Then where are we?” she asked.

“This is Fondor,” a human male supplied in understated astonishment.

Surprised murmurs began to spread through the crowd. Then all at once hatches throughout the passenger hold hissed open, admitting a score of heavily armed crew members. Agitated by misgiving as well as concern, the refugees backed away from the bulkheads, forming a ragged circle in the center of the hold.

“Slight change of plans, folks,” the crew’s obvious spokesperson announced when the murmuring had ceased—the same human Melisma and the other Ryn had come to call Tall. “Turns out we’re going to have to drop you here.”

“But you promised to deliver us to Abregado-rae,” someone thought to point out.

Tall grinned. “Let’s just say we overshot our stop.”

Impassioned conversations broke out. In some ways Fondor was preferable to Abregado-rae, but the blaster rifles and the tone of Tall’s announcement contributed an undercurrent of foreboding to the unforeseen development.

“Has Fondor agreed to accept us?” someone demanded.

“That’s not our concern.”

“Then where on Fondor will we be off-loaded?”

Tall stared at the Bimm who had asked the question. “Who said anything about Fondor?” He moved to the observation blister and pointed to a crescent-shaped shipbuilding platform. “That’s where you’re getting off. The facility is temporarily unoccupied, but at least you’ll have breathable air and artificial gravity.”

“What about provisions?” a human asked above the increasing turmoil.

“Do you plan to inform the authorities?” someone else asked.

Tall waved everyone silent. “We’re not barbarians. We’ll provide you with enough flash-dried nutrients to last you a couple of local days.”

“A couple of days?” a voice squeaked. “It could be months before anyone finds us!”

“Oh, I sincerely doubt that,” Tall said. “The Tapani sector is about to become very crowded. Someone’s bound to notice you.”

“Couldn’t you at least bring us to Fondor?” a human female pleaded.

Tall gave his head a firm shake. “We can’t afford to be here when the fireworks begin.”