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“A calculation of some sort. A mathematical equation, perhaps.”

“There it is,” Page shouted. “He told you. Now kill that blasted thing before it’s too late!”

Carr firmed his scarred lips. “Yes, he’s telling me something—but what?”

The Bith repeated the formula.

“Is it a code?” Carr asked him. “Listen to your commanders. You’ve already been a hero. You’ve no further need to prove your dedication.”

All color drained from the Bith’s head, and a prolonged rattle escaped his puckered mouth.

Carr shook his head back and forth, as if in sadness. He drew a coufee from the belt that cinched his skirt and plunged it into the tkun, which straightened briefly, then died. Standing up, he looked directly at Page. “Your comrade appears to have taken your secret to his grave.”

Page had murder in his eye, but Carr only shrugged and turned to S’yito.

“Escort the prisoners to the immolation pit where we incinerated their infernal machines. Fill it to the top, and make certain that they remain inside until midday tomorrow. We’ll let Selvaris’s suns sort out which of them are worthy of continued life.”

A brigade of guards hurried into the yard. Carr waited in the shade for the prisoners to be hoisted to their feet. Then he followed the procession through the prison gate to the pit where the dozens of droids had been slagged.

“Subaltern, it’s obvious that our captives had help engineering the escape,” Carr said. “Take a complement of warriors and execute everyone in the surrounding villages.”

S’yito saluted and trotted back through the bone gate.

Captain Page insisted on being the first to walk the wooden plank that extended out over the deep hole.

“A moment, Captain,” Carr said, from the edge of the pit. “I offer you a final chance to pass this night on a bed of leaves rather than atop the skeletons of your droids.”

Page snorted. “I’d sooner die.”

Carr nodded pensively. “You’ll die soon enough in any case.”

Without another word Page dropped into darkness. Carr turned away from the pit and set out for his grashal.

A code, he told himself.

He was certain of that much. But, deciphered, what information would it reveal? He gazed at the blinding sky, wondering where the rescue ship was bound.

FIVE

Proximity alarms hooted insistently in the cockpit of the Millennium Falcon. Irritated by the distraction, Han muted the speakers, while Leia concentrated on making certain that the ship steered clear of the cause of the alarms.

“Seismics?” Han asked.

Leia shook her head. “Hapan pulse-gravity interdiction mines. The latest thing.”

Seen through the curved viewport, the explosive devices might have been asteroids, basking in starlight. The Falcon’s scanners had said differently, though they had only reinforced Han and Leia’s initial hunch. Beyond the rocky field appeared the bright side of a brown-and-blue world, circled by satellites and gifted with two fair-sized moons.

“Guess you can’t be too careful nowadays,” Han said.

“Especially this close to the Perlemian Trade Route,” Leia added.

Han pointed to an orbital facility of spherical modules and multiple docks. “The shipyard.”

“It looks abandoned.”

“Deliberately, would be my guess.”

Weaving a sinuous path through the minefield, they maneuvered the Falcon closer to the planet. The freighter was midway between the moons when a voice issued from the comm.

“Millennium Falcon, this is Contruum control. On behalf of General Airen Cracken and the rest of the command staff, allow me to be the first to welcome you.”

Contruum was the homeworld of Airen Cracken and his equally illustrious son, Pash. An industrious planet with ore-smelting plants and a modest shipbuilding franchise, it was often touted as being the most Core-like world outside the Core, in a class with Eriadu, though not nearly as ecologically devastated. Certainly there was no planet in that part of the Mid Rim to rival it. The fact that it had thus far escaped enemy attention was nothing short of marvelous. That Contruum had continued at its own peril to contribute generously