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Pause. “Shut up.”

Pause. “You see anything?”

Pause. “No.”

Pause. “But are you not seeing anything because there’s nothing to see, or are you not seeing anything because your eyes are frozen?”

Pause. “Shut up.”

Wedge asked, “Two, that interval—I assume it’s transmission lag?”

“Yes, sir. I calculate that they’re about a hundred and fifty thousand klicks apart. I’m pretty sure that ‘Is it cold’ is broadcasting from the largest moon, and ‘Shut up’ is in the asteroid belt.”

“An outpost of some kind.” Wedge considered. “Sound like a pirate nest to you, Captain Hrakness?”

The smaller man leaned back comfortably in the command chair. “Out-of-the-way system, unprofessional and credit-wasting exchanges between members of the group … Probably so.”

“Very well. Jesmin, set up the Captain Darillian simulator and call Face to the comm center. Falynn is to get into Imperial pilot gear and take TIE Two; I’ll be in One. All the other Wraiths to the X-wings. Tell Tyria to take her own snubfighter—she’s temporarily restored to duty—and Phanan to take Falynn’s. Captain Hrakness, call battle stations. I want everyone standing by hot as we go in, but looking cool; we don’t want them to know we’re ready.”

As he began his start-up checklist, Wedge heard the comm pop. Swearing in a female voice immediately came over the communications speaker. He took a look at his comm board. The TIE fighter was still docked, with external communications off-line; this had to be the direct connection to the other TIE fighter port. “Gray Two, is that you?”

The swearing broke off momentarily. “Yes, sir!” Then it continued.

“Refrain from personal comments over this channel.”

“Yes, sir!” Her voice sounded resentful.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing with the TIE fighter, sir. I just had a dead body drop on me out of my closet.”

“What?”

“A pressure suit. Sealed and inflated. With a knife taped to its glove. When I slid open my closet door to get my Imp flight suit out, it fell on me.”

“A prank?”

“What else?”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. But it’s not funny. And if I were as clumsy as some of the old men in this squadron it would have stuck me.

“I’ll do something about this when we get back.”

“I don’t need any help, sir.”

“Maybe you don’t, but your prankster does. Are you live?”

“Two engines green, weapons live.”

“Drop to a trickle charge and prepare for what may be a long wait.”

From his seat in the comm center, Face watched the monitor, saw the hyperspace’s lines of light shorten into stars. Directly ahead was the red and orange brilliance of the third world. Face nodded in appreciation; Night Caller had dropped out of this second hyperspace jump not far from the world, as close as its gravity well would permit.

Almost immediately the comm board lit up as the unseen parties out there began communicating. “Glit One, Glit One, we have unknowns.” Pause. “Got you, Nest. I read one Corellian corvette. Looks like Captain Dandy is back.” Pause. “Confirm one dandy, Glit One. Glit Five, are you online?” The next pause was much longer, then Glit One’s voice came back, resentful: “Shut up.”

Face scanned the comm equipment. He knew the basics of handling a comm unit, but didn’t have the training to try to seek and amplify what had to have been a third transmission point out there.

Then a new voice, a strong broadcast from the occupied moon: “Night Crawler, this is Blood Nest. Respond at once.”

Face toggled his comm and the switch governing the instant translation to Darillian’s voice. “Bloody Nose, this is Night Caller. What do you want?”

“We want to tear your face off and vent what’s left into hard vacuum.”

Face snorted. Was this piratical posturing, or did these people intend to attack Captain Darillian? “You’re welcome to if you can, Bloody Nose. But first, tell me about your wife. I want to know something about the woman I’ll be consoling tonight.”

There was a long pause. Then the voice returned, more somber than before. “Darillian, I told you not to come back.”

“I recall you requesting me