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“His ship,” one of the Rodians scoffed. “He has dozens of ships. Let’s wait and see who disembarks.”

Three human males and a female appeared on the craft’s extensible boarding ramp. Moving with lithe economy, the first two men might have been brothers, though the taller one’s face was hideously scarred where the other’s was slim and angular. Dark-haired and willowy, the woman also moved with care, but there was a coiled wariness to her step and a vigilant gleam in her eyes. The last man out had an air of confident nonchalance. In one of inherited entitlement, the elevated chin and pocketed hands might have been perceived as arrogance, but he wore refinement well, as only one who had earned it could. In contrast to the shin-high spacer’s boots and long cloaks affected by his confederates, he was dressed in silk and leather.

“That’s him,” the other Rodian said, indicating the latter male with the tap of a long, sucker-equipped finger against the display screen. “That’s Karrde.”

The Twi’lek positioned his thick tattooed head-tails over his shoulders and leaned between the Rodians for a closer look. “You’re certain?”

The one who had made the identification twitched his short snout. “If not, it’s either his twin or a clone.”

The Twi’lek straightened. “I’ll alert the boss.”

Hurrying through the compartment hatchway, he entered a large hold, clamorous with activity. Stacked high throughout the space were alloy shipping crates recently ferried up Ryloth’s well from Kala’uun Spaceport. Two-legged binary loadlifters supervised by masked Twi’lek foremen were arranging the crates for further shipping and off-loading, while utilitarian-looking asp droids stenciled the crates with port-of-call information and applied laser-readable labels. Despite the forceful draw of overhead exhaust fans, dark motes danced and swirled in the recycled air.

One hand clamped to his mouth, the Twi’lek threaded his way through the maze of stacks, arriving ultimately at a laboratory isolated from the hold by tall permaplas window walls. Inside, two humans wearing goggles, rebreathers, and environment suits were assessing the quality of a fine black powder sampled from an opened shipping crate bearing the corporate logo of Galactic Exotics, alleged to contain edible fungi. The stockier of the pair removed his mask and goggles to reveal bulging eyes in an otherwise bland face.

“He just arrived,” the Twi’lek reported. “Docking Bay 6738. Two men and a woman accompany him. They are clearing contamination and control now.”

“You’re certain it’s him.”

“Certain. But we’ll run an identity scan just in case.”

The man peeled off elbow-length gloves, slipped out of the environment suit, and settled himself at a display console. “Keep the cam and scanner feeds open so I can see and hear for myself.”

“Will you be informing Borga?”

The man considered it. “We’ll see.”

The Twi’lek took the same route back to the compartment. By the time he arrived and was peering over the shoulder of the Rodian closest to the screen, Karrde and his companions were literally at the door.

“Positive identification on Karrde,” the Rodian said after studying the scanner readouts. “No information on the other men, but neither one is armed with blasters. The scanner matches the woman to Shada D’ukal, a known associate of Karrde’s.” The Rodian looked at the Twi’lek. “Lethal, even without weapons.”

The second Rodian lifted a blaster from his hip holster, checked the charge, and primed the weapon.

“Unnecessary,” the Twi’lek told him. “They’d be fools to try anything.”

The Rodian’s round black eyes fixed on him. “You pay me to be prepared.”

The Twi’lek nodded, grinning slightly to show filed teeth. “I stand corrected.”

“Look,” the Rodian’s partner interrupted. “He’s on to us.”

The Twi’lek glanced at the display screen in time to see Karrde waving at the optical scanner concealed in the bulkhead above the hatchway.

“I still don’t understand why Karrde would be interested in dealing with us,” the armed Rodian