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“You were having me on.”

“Just checking, kid. Making sure you really were still my son Jacen.”

“I am that—whoever he is, that’s me.”

Han looked down at the table. “Yeah. And … uh, whoever he is, I’m, uh, very proud of him.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Jacen said. He wanted, suddenly, to give his father a hug, but the newest cantina at Mos Eisley spaceport probably wasn’t the best place to do that.

“Anyway,” Han said. His gaze shifted about uncomfortably, then needled out someplace past Jacen. “There we go,” he said. “The rest of our dinner party.”

Jacen didn’t turn. One thing he’d learned around his father—if there were only two of you in a place like this, it was best if you weren’t both looking in the same direction.

“Well, well,” a profound bass boomed behind them. “Han Solo. And if I make my guess, one of his spawn.”

“Hello, Shalo. How are things?”

“I don’t believe it. The great Han Solo actually knows my name. I told you I was sending Terya.”

“I have a good memory,” Han replied. “And Terya is a Rodian.” He glanced around the cantina. “Looking good. How’s business?”

Shalo finally moved into Jacen’s field of vision. He was human and surprisingly small to have such a deep voice. Bald, craggy-nosed, about his dad’s age.

“Not bad,” Shalo said. “The Yuuzhan Vong snubbed their flat noses at Tatooine, so we’re the center of commerce out here on the Rim, these days.”

“Uh-huh. That’s pretty convenient for you, I guess. I hear you’re giving even Chalmun’s some competition.”

“Yeah, well, times change. Business changes. My drinks are cheaper.”

Han jerked a thumb toward the man. “Last time I saw Shalo here he was a petty thug at the bottom of Durga the Hutt’s food chain.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“Sure. And after that you worked for Hirth, out of Abregado-rae. That went sour, too, didn’t it? Then you got involved with the Hutts again, and they sent you here to manage one of their operations. Come to think of it, I guess the occupation of Nal Hutta is the best thing that ever happened to you, huh, Shalo? Now the operation’s all yours.”

“It ain’t been bad. Solo, you got a point? I’m a busy man. I’ve heard you’re back in business, so to speak. You have something you want moved?”

“Not exactly, Shalo. I need a little information.”

“So long as you’re willing to pay for it.”

“Sure,” Han said. “Like you said, I’m back in business now.” He passed a hundred credits across the table toward Shalo. “Gesture of good faith,” he said.

“Okay. What do you want to know?”

“There’s a certain shipping concern. I think you know the one I mean—has certain occupational interests?”

“I can’t say I know what you’re talking about. There are lots of shipping firms.”

Han leaned forward a little. “But this one—ah, c’mon, Shalo. Who do you sell all your slaves to?”

“Slaves? I’m not in that business, Solo.”

“You disappoint me, Shalo.”

Shalo smiled and shook his head. “No, you disappoint me, Solo. I guess everyone gets old. Now your son pays the price.”

Han looked at Jacen in mock surprise. “You’re picking up the tab, son?”

“My boss doesn’t pay me that well,” Jacen replied.

Han looked at Shalo. “I guess now we don’t know what you mean, Shalo.”

“I mean there’s no bounty in the galaxy higher than the one on your boy, here, and I’m collecting it.” He raised his hand and dropped it.

Nothing happened. Puzzled, he repeated the signal frantically.

A bright green shaft of light suddenly appeared, jutting out of the tabletop. It terminated a centimeter from Shalo’s throat.

“Urk,” Shalo said.

“Please don’t move,” Jacen requested sincerely.

“You get ’em all, Karrde?” Han called into the silence that now ruled the cantina. He kept his eyes focused on Shalo.

“Shada has it under control,” a cultured voice came back. “We’ll be right there. I’d like to make sure all of my people are in position.”

Jacen couldn’t glance around, but he felt a number of newcomers enter the cantina.

“Take your time,” Han called back. “I was just having a chat with my old buddy