[Adventure Journal](8)

“People have mentioned that before,” Corran spoke up. “Actually, it’s just coincidence. As far as we know, we’re not related.”

Kast nodded once, slowly. “Ah.”

“The table seems ready,” Hal said, pointing in that direction.

“Shall we go sit down?”

“Oh, sure,” Hal said, taking a sip from his second drink.

“Everyone around here has heard of Borbor Crisk. Fairly small-time criminal, though, as criminals go-strictly local to the Corellian system. Of course, if you’re looking for impressive intersystem criminals, we’ve got some of those, tOO.”

“We’re not interested in impressiveness,” Trell pointed out.

“Criminal or otherwise. We’ve got a cargo to deliver to this Crisk character, and then we’re out of here.”

“Yes, you mentioned that,” Corran agreed, eyeing the other and trying to read him. It was hard to believe these people were really the simple errand boys they appeared, especially after the incident with the mercenaries. But if this was some kind of deeply clever plan, he was blamed if he could figure it out.

At least, not from the outside. It was about time he made his pitch to get a little closer to the middle. “The thing is this,” he went on, looking around the table.

“Two things, actually. Number one: considering who Crisk is, your cargo is probably illegal and certainly valuable.

That means that you not only have to worry about Corellian Security coming down on you, but also other criminals who might try to take it off your hands. And number two-” he hesitated, just slightly “the reason Hal and I came to CoreIlia in the first place was hoping to find jobs with Crisk’s organization.”

“You’re kidding,” Riij said. “Doing what?”

“Anything, really,” Hal said. “Our last job went really sour, and we need to recoup our losses.”

“That’s why we were following you, see,” Corran said, trying for the proper balance of assertiveness and embarrassment. “I overheard Trell talking about Crisk, and thought-well-” “We thought maybe we could go with you when you went back to see him tonight,” Hal took the plunge.

Trell and Maranne exchanged glances. “Well-” “We don’t actually know we’re seeing him tonight,” Riij pointed out. “That other booth owner may not know anything more about Crisk than Sajsh did.”

“That’s a good point,” Trell agreed, throwing an odd look at Kast.

“This could be nothing but a blind alley.”

“Well, in that case, you’ll need help finding him,” Hal said with a wonderfully genuine-sounding eagerness.

“Corran and I are locals-we have all sorts of contacts around the area. We can help you find him.”

“One of you can go,” Kast said.

Corran looked at the bounty hunter, blinking in mild surprise. It was the first time he’d spoken since they’d sat down at the table.

“Ah-good,” he said. “Just one of us?”

“Just him,” Kast said, nodding toward Hal. “Trell and the Tunroth will go with him. I’ll be behind as rearguard.”

“What about Riij and me?” Maranne asked.

“You two and Corran will go back to the ship,” Kast told her.

“You’ll transfer the cargo onto the ship’s land-speeder so it’ll be ready for delivery.”

Trell and Maranne eyed each other again, and Corran could see neither was particularly happy with the arrangement.

It was equally clear, though, that neither was all that eager to argue the point with the bounty hunter. “All right,” Trell said with a grimace. “Fine. What happens if no one at that other booth knows where Crisk is either?”

“That won’t be a problem,” Kast said. “Trust me.”

“Interesting person, Jodo Kast,” Hal commented as the three of them headed back toward Sajsh’s booth. “Have you worked with him long?”

“This is the first time,” Trell told him, looking around uneasily.

There were far fewer shoppers at this hour than there had been earlier, and despite his innate dislike of crowds he found himself feeling unpleasantly exposed right now. “Actually, we’re not working with him so much as we are working for him. Pairor, can you see where he’s gotten to?”

“No, don’t turn around,” Hal said quickly. “We might be under observation, and we don’t want to tip them off that we’ve got a rearguard.”

Trell threw him a sideways look. There was something in his voice right then that emphatically did not belong in a down-luck drifter. A tone of authority, spoken by a person who was used to having his orders obeyed…