“I need to eyeball the cargo. You don’t need to come.”

“I think I won’t.”

He nodded. “Medbay is forward and starboard.”

She smiled. “Kolto for your cuts.”

“Kolto for your cuts,” he echoed, a soldier’s phrase for medical care in the field.

“There’s food in the galley,” he said. “Protein bars and glucose supplements, mostly. Help yourself.”

“You’re still eating like a soldier.”

“I still do lots of things like a soldier.”

Just not the most important things.

She headed off and he headed toward the cargo bay, sneaking up on the crates as if they were an easily startled animal. They were small, maybe a meter on a side, tiny in the otherwise empty hold. He didn’t know what he had expected. Something bigger, he supposed. They seemed like a great deal of trouble for such small containers. He ran his hands over them and decided he did not want to see the spice after all.

He headed back to the cockpit to pilot his ship. The hail from Oren was already blinking. He punched it.

“Go,” he said.

“Our hackers have the film from the spaceport. I have seen your little incident.”

“Incident? I was shot. Twice.”

“Facial recognition on the apparent leader of the hit team gives an ID of Vrath Xizor.” Oren chuckled. “Apparently he’s an elementary school teacher from the Core.”

“I think we can safely assume that is fake. Who is he, Oren?”

“Free agent, we think. Probably works for the Hutts. They wouldn’t want the engspice to get to Coruscant. They’re … at odds with our buyer.”

The Hutts. It seemed they were into everything.

“Is that all you have?” Zeerid asked him.

“That’s all I have. How are you planning to get the spice to Coruscant, Z-man?”

“I’m not telling you a kriffin’ thing, Oren. You have a leak in your organization. I’ll get it there. That’s all you need to know.”

Oren chuckled. “Good-bye, Z-man.”

Behind him, Aryn cleared her throat. Zeerid could not bring himself to make eye contact with her. He started punching coordinates into the navicomp and Aryn eased into the copilot’s seat. It had been a long while since anyone had shared the cockpit with him. She had bandaged up her calf.

“Bandage looks good,” he said.

“Thanks.” She eyed the math in the navicomp. “That’s not going to get us to Coruscant.”

“No,” he said. “It’s going to take us to the Kravos system.”

“That’s a dead system,” she said. “On the edge of Imperial space.”

He nodded. “Supply convoys stop there to skim the gas giants for hydrogen.”

“I don’t understand. What’s the plan to get to Coruscant?”

“I thought you had the plan,” he said.

“What?”

He smiled. “I’m joking.”

“Not funny. The plan, Zeerid.”

He nodded. “It’s dangerous.”