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"Um, shuttle Tryst?" Jaina's voice came over the speaker. "We were under the impression that this was the rendezvous point."

"That was the impression we intended you to have," Captain Prack said.

"This was just an intermediate stop to make sure no one followed you."

"What if it's a trap? I've barely met most of my second cousins," Raynar said in a low voice. "We, uh, have a large extended family. Half of them left Alderaan decades ago when the Emperor came into power."

In spite of the relaxation exercises he'd been doing, Raynar looked agitated again.

"Can you confirm that she really works for your family?" Luke asked.

"Is there a question you can ask her?" Jacen added. "Maybe some kind of secret code your family uses in emergencies?"

Raynar thought for a moment, then said in a loud voice, "Captain Prack, which of our great family 'treasures was saved by a fortunate coincidence when the Death Star blew up Alderaan?"

"Simple enough," Prack answered, her voice casual and confident.

"The Dro ceremonial fountain had been sent to Calamari to be repaired by the renowned artist Myrrack. Therefore the Dro family's great treasure was safely off-planet and spared from destruction."

Raynar's ruddy face beamed. "That's it.

No one but a member of my family would know the answer to that question."

"You're sure?" Luke asked.

Raynar nodded. "Trust me."

"Raynar says you passed the test," Jacen said into the comm speaker.

"We're slaving the Shadow Chaser's navigational computers to yours."

"Rock Dragon slaving over to Tryst," Jaina's voice said.

"All right, everybody," Captain Prack answered, "hold on to your seats."

Starlines swooped and stuttered around the Shadow Chaser as the Tryst took them on three consecutive jumps through hyperspace, none more than a minute long.

Then, suddenly, they were there.

A ragtag assortment of merchant vessels, security shuttles, cargo ships, star skimmers, and scout cruisers drifted before them in space.

The fleet held ships of all sizes and manufactures, designed for versatile operations in different shipping environments. Over the years, Bornan and Aryn Thul had expanded their merchant operation into a massive undertaking. But now, out of concern for their safety, the Thul family could not allow their fleet a permanent base.

"This is it," Raynat said. "My real home."

RAYNAR FILLED HIS lungs with the cool, recycled air on the Tradewyn, flagship of his family's merchant fleet. His father had always insisted that the Tradewyn have the finest filters and recyclers available. For business reasons,: the fleet's headquarters remained on Coruscant, but this vessel more than any other place in the galaxy--had become the family's home.

His mother claimed that the air on Al-deraan had been sweeter, though by the time of Raynar's birth that planet had already been space rubble for years. He had been born here, on the Tradewyn itself.

For him, no place could feel safer or more welcoming in a time of danger.

Raynar closed his eyes, taking a second deep breath, and a third.

For so long he had smelled the humidity and the lush, thick jungle scents of Yavin 4. This seemed so much purer.

Behind him, he heard Luke and the young Jedi Knights climb out of the Shadow Chaser and the Rock Dragon, then thump to the deckplates, but he did not allow that to distract him from his enjoyment. He had so many memories of this place.

To Raynar's embarrassment, he was dangerously close to tears when he heard the docking-bay airlock whoosh open. He felt a comforting hand on his shoulder, and Master Skywalker said in a low voice, "It's always good to feel that you've come home.

Are you all right, Raynar?"

Dismayed that Master Skywalker had sensed this weakness in him, Raynat's first impulse was to draw himself up and make some sort of haughty reply to indicate that he was fully in control of himself. But instead, he took another deep breath, this time a calming one, as part of a Jedi relaxation technique-- opened his eyes, and nodded. A true Jedi had little need to lie, or even pretend.