of marvelous. That Contruum had continued at its own peril to contribute generously to the war effort had rendered the planet a model of courage and sacrifice.
“Sirs, General Cracken is eager to know if you were successful in retrieving any of our lost merchandise?”
Leia answered for them. “Tell the general we’re returning with only one of four that were originally available for pickup. Two were lost, and there is reason to believe that one may have ended up back at its point of origin.”
“We’re very sorry to hear that, Princess.”
“That makes it unanimous,” Han said.
“Millennium Falcon
is cleared for entry. Would you care to have us take you in, Captain?”
“I’d rather fly—if it’s all the same to you.”
“Of course, sir. Routing and landing coordinates are being transmitted to your navigation computer.”
Han and Leia watched the flight data come onscreen, then Leia enlarged the routing map.
Han laughed shortly. “Figures.”
“Can’t be too careful.”
Han adjusted the
Falcon
’s course. Outside of a few harmless-looking ships lazing in stationary orbit, local space was almost free of traffic. Instead of bearing straight for the planet’s heavily populated equatorial band, he banked the freighter for Contruum’s innermost moon, a silver sphere dimpled with impact craters and crusty with mountain ranges.
“The large crater just to starboard,” Leia said.
Han tapped the control yoke. “Got it.”
There was nothing to mark the crater as a berthing space; nothing to mark the moon as a military base. Han lowered the
Falcon
toward the crater, close to its upthrust eastern rim.
Leia shook her head in wonder. “You could almost believe it’s empty.”
“Holoprojection masking a magnetic containment field,” Han said. “That technique hasn’t been used in a long time.”
She nodded sadly. “There hasn’t been need for it.”
The
Falcon
passed through what appeared to be the rocky floor of the crater and into an enormous hollow below, ultimately settling down on a hexagonal landing platform emblazoned with well-worn markings and numerals. The interior of the hidden base hummed with activity. A nearby transport bore the name
Twelve Ton
, after a beast of burden indigenous to Contruum. Han recalled that the sleekly designed destroyers once produced by the now abandoned shipyard had typically been given virtuous-sounding names:
Temperance, Prudence, Equity …
It took several minutes to get the
Falcon
shut down. Leia asked Cakhmaim and Meewalh to remain aboard with C-3PO, who took the request as a personal affront. Then she, Han, and Thorsh—the Jenet they had rescued—headed for the landing ramp. At the top, Han paused briefly to assess the minor damage done by the swoop, which had been jettisoned above Selvaris shortly before the
Falcon
had made the jump to lightspeed.
An escort detail was waiting for them on the landing platform—security personnel, meditechs and a medical droid, and a sturdy, dark-complected young woman who introduced herself as General Cracken’s adjutant. The meditechs quickly surrounded Thorsh, inspecting his limbs, gently palpating his torso, and examining his vaguely leonine head.
“You look like you were dragged through a field of thorns,” one said.
Thorsh sniffed in sardonic derision. “More like propelled. But thanks for noticing.”
“We did what we could for him,” Leia said.
The same meditech glanced at her. “Any battlefield medic would be proud to have done as much.”
The droid finished its scans with a concluding melody of chitters and tones. “Malnourished, but otherwise fit,” it announced in a deep voice.
Major Ummar, Cracken’s adjutant, nodded in approval. “I don’t see any reason why we can’t proceed directly to debriefing.”
Han turned to Thorsh and smirked. “Good job, Thorsh. We’ll buy you lunch some other time.”
Thorsh shrugged. “We all play our parts. I go where I’m sent, I do what I’m
“Sirs, General Cracken is eager to know if you were successful in retrieving any of our lost merchandise?”
Leia answered for them. “Tell the general we’re returning with only one of four that were originally available for pickup. Two were lost, and there is reason to believe that one may have ended up back at its point of origin.”
“We’re very sorry to hear that, Princess.”
“That makes it unanimous,” Han said.
“Millennium Falcon
is cleared for entry. Would you care to have us take you in, Captain?”
“I’d rather fly—if it’s all the same to you.”
“Of course, sir. Routing and landing coordinates are being transmitted to your navigation computer.”
Han and Leia watched the flight data come onscreen, then Leia enlarged the routing map.
Han laughed shortly. “Figures.”
“Can’t be too careful.”
Han adjusted the
Falcon
’s course. Outside of a few harmless-looking ships lazing in stationary orbit, local space was almost free of traffic. Instead of bearing straight for the planet’s heavily populated equatorial band, he banked the freighter for Contruum’s innermost moon, a silver sphere dimpled with impact craters and crusty with mountain ranges.
“The large crater just to starboard,” Leia said.
Han tapped the control yoke. “Got it.”
There was nothing to mark the crater as a berthing space; nothing to mark the moon as a military base. Han lowered the
Falcon
toward the crater, close to its upthrust eastern rim.
Leia shook her head in wonder. “You could almost believe it’s empty.”
“Holoprojection masking a magnetic containment field,” Han said. “That technique hasn’t been used in a long time.”
She nodded sadly. “There hasn’t been need for it.”
The
Falcon
passed through what appeared to be the rocky floor of the crater and into an enormous hollow below, ultimately settling down on a hexagonal landing platform emblazoned with well-worn markings and numerals. The interior of the hidden base hummed with activity. A nearby transport bore the name
Twelve Ton
, after a beast of burden indigenous to Contruum. Han recalled that the sleekly designed destroyers once produced by the now abandoned shipyard had typically been given virtuous-sounding names:
Temperance, Prudence, Equity …
It took several minutes to get the
Falcon
shut down. Leia asked Cakhmaim and Meewalh to remain aboard with C-3PO, who took the request as a personal affront. Then she, Han, and Thorsh—the Jenet they had rescued—headed for the landing ramp. At the top, Han paused briefly to assess the minor damage done by the swoop, which had been jettisoned above Selvaris shortly before the
Falcon
had made the jump to lightspeed.
An escort detail was waiting for them on the landing platform—security personnel, meditechs and a medical droid, and a sturdy, dark-complected young woman who introduced herself as General Cracken’s adjutant. The meditechs quickly surrounded Thorsh, inspecting his limbs, gently palpating his torso, and examining his vaguely leonine head.
“You look like you were dragged through a field of thorns,” one said.
Thorsh sniffed in sardonic derision. “More like propelled. But thanks for noticing.”
“We did what we could for him,” Leia said.
The same meditech glanced at her. “Any battlefield medic would be proud to have done as much.”
The droid finished its scans with a concluding melody of chitters and tones. “Malnourished, but otherwise fit,” it announced in a deep voice.
Major Ummar, Cracken’s adjutant, nodded in approval. “I don’t see any reason why we can’t proceed directly to debriefing.”
Han turned to Thorsh and smirked. “Good job, Thorsh. We’ll buy you lunch some other time.”
Thorsh shrugged. “We all play our parts. I go where I’m sent, I do what I’m
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