Part One
by Timothy Zahn
The hazy edge of the planet was just disappearing from beneath the Hopskip’s control room viewport, and Ha-ber Trell was trying to nurse a little more power from the ship’s as-always finicky engines, when his partner finally reappeared from her tour aft. “Took you long enough,” Trell commented as she dropped into the copilot seat beside him. “Any trouble?”
“No more than usual,” Maranne Darmic told him, digging a hand underneath the silvered clasp tying her dark blond hair back out of the way and scratching vigorously at her scalp. “The cargo straps managed to hold through that classic signature liftoff of yours. I’d say we didn’t get rid of all the itch mites in the hold, though.”
“Never mind the vermin,” Trell growled. Next time they had a twenty-grade unbalanced cargo, he promised himself darkly, he’d make her do the liftoff. See how smoothly she managed it. “How about our passengers?”
Maranne sniffed. “I thought you didn’t want to hear about vermin.”
“Watch it, kiddo,” Trell warned. “They’re paying good money for us to smuggle these blasters out to Derra IV.”
“And obviously don’t trust us ten centimeters with them,” Maranne countered. “They wouldn’t be babysitting them like this if they did.”
Trell shrugged. “Can’t say I really blame them for being cautious.”
Ever since that big defeat or whatever it was out in the Yavin system, the Empire’s been spitting fire in ú fifteen directions at once. I’ve heard that some of the independents hauling Rebellion stuff decided it was safer to take the advance money, dump the cargo, and burn space for better havens.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t like hauling for desperate people,” Maranne said, shifting the focal point of her scratching to a spot farther down the back of her neck. “They make me nervous.”
“If they weren’t desperate, they wouldn’t be paying so well,” Trell pointed out reasonably. “Don’t worry, this’ll be the last time we have to deal with them.”
“I’ve heard that before,” Maranne said, sniffing again.
The proximity-sensor alert began to warble, and she leaned forward to key for a readout. “Sure, this’ll pay for the engine upgrades you want; but then you’ll want sensor upgrades, and-” She broke off.
“What?” Trell demanded.
“Star Destroyer,” she said grimly, activating the weapons section of her board and keying in the power boosters.
“Coming up fast behind us.”
“Terrific,” Trell growled, checking the nav computer.
If they could escape to lightspeed… but no, the ship was still too close to the planet. “What’s their vector?”
“Straight toward us,” Maranne told him. “I suppose it’s too late to dump the cargo and try to look innocent.”
“Freighter Hopskip, this is Captain Niriz of the Imperial Star Destroyer Admonitor,” a gruff voice boomed from the speaker. “I’d like a word with you aboard my ship, if I may.
The last word was punctuated by a single gentle shiver running through the deck beneath them as a tractor beam locked on. “Yeah, I’d say it’s definitely too late to dump the cargo,” Trell sighed. “Let’s hope they’re just on a fishing expedition.”
He keyed for transmission. “This is Haber Trell aboard the Hopskip,” he said. “We’d be honored to speak with you, Captain.”
“Well,” Captain Niriz said, his voice echoing across the vast emptiness of the hangar deck as he eyed the four beings standing in front of him.
“Most interesting. Our records show the Hopskip as having two crew members, not four.” His gaze paused on Riij Winward.
“Newly hired, are you?”
“Our previous ship had to leave Tramanos in something of a hurry,” Riij told him, striving to keep his voice casual. The fake ID the Rebellion had provided him was a good one, but if the Imperials decided to dig past it they would undoubtedly come up with his recent connection with the Mos Eisley police on Tatooine. That wasn’t a connection he was anxious for them to find. “We needed a ride to Shibric,” he continued, “and since Captain Trell was going that way, he was kind enough to offer us passage.”
“For a hefty fee, I imagine,” Niriz said, his eyes shifting to the muscular Tunroth standing at Riij’s right. “Rare to see a Tunroth in these parts. You’re a certified Hunter, I presume?”
“Shturlan, “Rathe Pairor rumbled, his voice almost sub-sonic.