‘We can’t call off the operation now. We’ve brought them all here, and bringing them back again would be just as dangerous as bringing them out on the Eggshell,’ Dyson’s voice floated into her consciousness.

‘The risk is too great.’ Lieutenant de Boeck.

‘It’s no use speculating,’ Rhun answered. ‘We don’t even know what happened.’

Dyson spoke again. ‘We can only hope she hasn’t led the Imps straight here.’

‘They’d be here already. And what do you think I should have done? Chase her out again?’

Samica made herself open her eyes—her right eye, anyway—and look up. She still felt dizzy, and there still was the pain in her face, but not as bad as last night. She noticed that Rhun must have taken her boots and jacket off. Outside, it was light already.

Rhun noticed she was awake and sat down on the bed, with a glance at Dyson to silence him. ‘How are you?’ he asked.

Instead of answering his question, she looked up at Dyson and de Boeck. ‘I don’t think they found out about the hotel,’ she said, a bit slurred, since the left side of her mouth felt a few sizes too big for her face.

De Boeck shook her head, but there was also compassion in her face for the younger woman. ‘That doesn’t mean anything, Captain,’ she said. ‘Don’t get me wrong, please—I’m glad you made it back here, but I’d feel a lot better if I knew just why they let you go.’

Samica turned towards Rhun. ‘Could it be Commander Tonkin just let me go?’ she asked, almost wishing for him to tell her yes, of course, he’d simply let her walk out like that because he was such a nice person.

Rhun looked at her unhappily. ‘I know he was your former commander, and of course you know him better than I do, but somehow I find that hard to believe,’ he answered.

‘So what are we going to do?’ Samica asked weakly.

‘We’ll get you back to the Eggshell. Under the circumstances, we can’t risk including you tonight. Someone may recognise you. The medical facilities there are better, too, so maybe we’ll find out more about what happened to you.’ Rhun paused. ‘Can you remember anything about last night?’

Samica looked down at her hands and forced herself to remember. ‘He asked me my name, but I think they knew that already. They might have done a retinal scan and compared it to the criminal records or something . . . maybe the Navy records, even. I don’t know.’

‘Who interrogated you?’ Rhun asked. ‘Tonkin?’

She carefully shook her head. ‘No, an ISB captain. I can’t remember much about him. Tonkin was there at some time, I think, but . . . all of that’s really hazy.’

‘Can you recall what they gave you?’ he asked softly.

‘I don’t know. It seemed to react when I was lying, so I tried not to answer at all, but when they asked if I was alone here . . .’ She broke off and bit her lower lip.

Rhun exchanged a glance with Dyson. ‘Do they know who you’re here with?’

‘No, but they know I’m not alone.’

Rhun turned to Samica again. ‘Do they know why we’re here?’ he wanted to know.

‘I don’t think so.’

He looked up again at Dyson and de Boeck. ‘We’ll have to take the chance, Cap,’ he said to the Corellian. ‘There’s really no other way we could get out of this without endangering the fugitives. You’ll stay on Eggshell, Sam, and we’ll come after.’

She only nodded, not feeling in any mood to protest.

Dyson brooded for a while, until, finally, he nodded as well. ‘Firia, I think it’d be best if you took her to the freighter and stayed there with her.’ He wasn’t saying ‘have an eye on her’, but they all knew that it was what he meant. ‘Rhun, I’ll need your help tonight.’

The young man nodded. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Originally, Firia was supposed to lead one of the groups of refugees to the spaceport, but now you’ll have to do that. But you know the area at least as well, don’t you?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Very well. We’ll separate them into three groups, one goes with me, one with Kjaer, and one with you. We’ve got fourteen, so you’ll take four. We meet at the ship at twenty-one hundred. See to it you’re there in time, because we won’t be able to wait long.’

Rhun asked, ‘You’ve done this kind of thing before, haven’t you?’

Dyson shrugged, then nodded.

‘I thought you always said the Rebellion paid so poorly,’ Rhun remarked with a grin.

‘A soft spot of mine. But don’t tell Commander Willard, or he’ll have me do it for nothing next time.’

It was almost dark already by 17.30, the time Rhun was on his way back to the safe house in Gerion to collect the second group of refugees. Kjaer had already left with his group, Dyson had to be leaving even now. Neither Kjaer nor Rhun knew who exactly was in each group, or which way the others would be taking, so that, if one of them got caught, they couldn’t reveal anything about the others.

They weren’t supposed to face any problems until they came to the spaceport, which was very difficult to enter without being ID-checked, so they had separated as far as possible, in time as well as place, so that, if one of the groups was caught, the others would be far enough away to avoid being detected as well. Dyson would have preferred to leave in the dead of night, but there were two children among the refugees, who had no business out in town so late, thus making it even harder to go unnoticed.

Some of the refugees were politically prosecuted, for sympathising with the Rebels, mostly. Rhun had learned many had started sympathising after the news about Alderaan and the Death Star, and Rebel fractions and resistance organisations had mushroomed everywhere in the galaxy. There weren’t too many on Garon II, but the destruction of Alderaan had not passed unnoticed and unquestioned here, either.

Sam was back on Eggshell with Firia de Boeck, but scanning her with the transport’s equipment hadn’t yielded anything, no foreign bodies or anything else. Rhun desperately wanted to believe that nothing was wrong with her, but he could also understand Dyson’s suspicion where she was concerned. To make sure she couldn’t endanger the mission, she didn’t know where the fugitives would be taken, but Rhun could tell Dyson was not very comfortable with the knowledge that the Empire might have bugged her or something like that. He couldn’t have put the captain at ease with the reassurance that he thought it would be all right, after all. But Rhun was certain, at least, that she hadn’t tried to lie to him.

He reached Kjaer’s house and buzzed. There was a male voice from the inside, asking, ‘Who’s there?’

‘Time to get ready,’ Rhun answered; that was the agreed-on password.

The door opened, and Rhun slipped inside. The man who had opened him was heavy-set, around thirty, with brown hair and an untidy brown beard. Behind him, there was a young woman maybe a bit older than Rhun, and his mother and Ren.

The man nodded at Rhun. ‘We’re going?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ Rhun agreed. ‘Kjaer’s left already?’

The woman nodded. ‘Around fifteen minutes ago; later than expected.’

‘It’ll be better if we wait for half an hour or so, then,’ Rhun decided. ‘We’ve got enough time, and we don’t want to run into them.’

‘Where are we going?’ Ren wanted to know.

Rhun shook his head, but he was grinning. ‘I told you yesterday, you’re going to like it. I can’t say how it’s called, but we’re going to the spaceport first. Then we take a ship to that place. Have you ever been off Garon II?’

‘No. But we went over to the seaside last summer, didn’t we, Mommy?’

The man had listened to the exchange, looking at the child, then at Rhun, then asked, ‘Are you related, anyhow?’

Rhun grinned more widely. ‘Yep. But sorry, I didn’t remember to introduce myself. I’m Rhun.’ His first name would have to do; if anyone got caught, the name van Leuken would certainly mean something to some people over at the garrison.

The couple then introduced themselves as Trenc and Kiriali. They’d been staying with Kjaer for almost a month, after the Army had broken up a demonstration against the Empire following disconcerting rumours that the Empire was responsible for the destruction of Alderaan.

‘We only barely got away before the others were taken into custody,’ Kiriali said. ‘Before that, I’d taken the whole thing as something like an exciting activity, something to do with your time when your life got too boring, but I never realised how serious it was, and how serious the Empire took the affair.’

‘What happened to those who were taken into custody?’ Rhun asked.

Trenc shrugged. ‘Some got off with imprisonment, but I don’t know about one or two others, the more radical among us. The place was swarming with ISB and COMPNOR for two weeks, and we haven’t been out a lot lately. We knew they were looking for those who got away, and Kjaer told us he knew how to get away from here.’

‘Will you join the Rebellion or just live away from it all?’ Rhun’s mother now asked.

Kiriali pursed her lips. ‘If it’s true what they say—that the Empire is responsible for blowing up Alderaan—they have to be stopped. I don’t know what I can do yet, but I’m certain the Rebels need all sorts of people for all sorts of jobs.’ Rhun nodded. ‘So maybe I’ll wait and watch until I decide how I can help the Rebellion. I’m not a pilot or a soldier, but I suppose there are lots of things everyone can do.’

‘Not voting for them in the next elections, for starters,’ Trenc quipped.

‘I’ll join the Rebellion,’ Ren declared. ‘I’m going to be a pilot, and I’ll make the evil Emperor go away.’

‘First, young man, you’ll have to wait a bit before you’re able to reach the controls of a fighter anyway,’ Rhun damped his brother’s enthusiasm, ‘and I really don’t want to disappoint you, but flying does not run in the family, I’m afraid.’

‘I hope this war is over by the time he’s old enough to be of any help,’ Trenc muttered.

Rhun nodded. ‘So do I.’ He glanced at his wrist chrono. It was nearly eighteen hundred. ‘I think we’d better get going,’ he said to the others. ‘The first part shouldn’t be too difficult.’

They made their way along the blocks of flats, in and out of circles of light from the buildings. The four fugitives were travelling very light; the young couple had one backpack between them, and so did Rhun’s mother, for herself and for Ren. Rhun had offered to carry it for her; she’d looked at him as if he were a very young boy who’d said something very stupid. It was good to be home again.

As Rhun had hoped, the first part of the trip was relatively safe. If they had been carrying trunks or larger pieces of baggage, somebody might have become suspicious, but as it was, there were few people around anyway, and the few that were hardly took any notice. After half an hour, a slow, steady drizzle set in, further discouraging people to linger on the streets for longer than absolutely necessary. Rhun usually wasn’t very fond of rain, but tonight, he was grateful for it.

They had almost reached the edge of town and were approaching the starport area when Rhun suddenly stopped, stretching out a hand behind him to bring Trenc to a halt as well. Ahead in the street, around one corner, there had been voices, voices that sounded commanding. Voices he didn’t want to hear in a moment like this.

‘What is it?’ Ren whispered behind him; at least he had somehow realised speaking aloud would not be a very good idea.

Rhun silenced him with a gesture, then carefully leaned around the corner to look into the street. There were three men, one militia, two customs officers, some fifty metres away. One of them was speaking into a comlink. One more militia officer was standing fifteen metres away from the corner, but with his back to them, and he called back to the others, ‘Yes, but if they were seen on the Starport Road, we can cut them off this way.’

‘Come back here,’ one of the others called. ‘We’ll seal off this quarter; let the Starport Police worry with them.’

‘What if they’re not going to the starport at all?’ the one before them said. ‘The route would take them to the garrison. It could be another of those would-be-rebel sabotage assaults.’

‘The garrison can look after itself,’ the second speaker answered. ‘Come back here, that’s an order!’

Reluctantly, the first militia man started to go, but cast one more glance into their direction. Rhun jerked back behind the building, but too late.

‘Hey!’ the officer called at them, starting to jog into their direction. In the semidarkness, Rhun saw Trenc and his mother cast him a frightened glance, but he put on a reassuring look (he hoped) and stepped forward, Ren at his side. The officer came to a stop behind him, his hand on his belt.

‘How long have you been listening?’ he demanded.

Rhun put on a puzzled expression, sufficiently worried for someone who had never had trouble with any armed forces in his life. ‘Listening? I wasn’t listening, sir.’

The officer eyed him, then Ren, then the other three people behind him. The man’s colleagues were also approaching now. ‘May I see your ID, please?’ he said.

Rhun fervently hoped it would hold better than Sam’s had the night before, but he gave it to the officer, who ran it through his reader. To his relief, it seemed to work. ‘What’s happened?’ he asked, at the same time willing Ren to be quiet. So far, the boy hadn’t opened his mouth once.

‘Yours as well,’ was the officer’s reply, addressed to his mother, who hesitated. They were rescued by one of the customs officers, who had arrived at the corner now. ‘What is it?’ he asked his colleague, his tone indicating patience running out quickly.

‘These were lurking behind the building, sir, so I thought I’d better check what they were up to.’

‘Lurking?’ the other man repeated doubtfully, looking at the group before him.

‘Yes, sir. This man here . . .’ he glanced at Rhun’s forged ID, ‘Haaris . . . he was acting guilty, if you ask me, sir.’

The customs officer bent down to Ren. ‘What’s your name, boy?’

Rhun’s stomach sank. He should have spent more time going over situations like this with the kid. Come on, Ren, make up something, I know you can do it!

Ren hesitated. ‘Ren,’ he finally said.

‘Ren, and what else?’

Ren hesitated even longer, but when he answered, he didn’t even look at Rhun. ‘Ren Haaris,’ he finished, even refraining from grinning.

‘And what are you doing up so late, Ren?’

Rhun knew that the officer hoped to catch the child unawares, so it wouldn’t do if he answered instead. Ren, make something up, but keep it simple . . .

‘We were visiting family,’ Ren replied. ‘We had a—a family reunion.’ He seemed to remember something, turning around to his mother. ‘And Uncle gave me a giant cuddly toy, and Mommy is carrying it, do you want to see it? Can he, Mom?’

The customs officer laughed in an avuncular way and straightened again. ‘No, that won’t be necessary. Just see you get the boy into bed, ma’am, won’t you?’

Riga nodded, replying, ‘Yes, sir, of course. He really ought to be sleeping.’

Ren even remembered to protest, and Rhun couldn’t help but admire his brother’s presence of mind. ‘Sorry if we caused any trouble,’ he told the customs officer, but the man waved it off. ‘Good evening,’ he said, then turned around to his colleague, the friendliness gone from his voice. ‘Drunkards and children always tell the truth,’ he told him. ‘His ID was all right?’

‘Yes, sir,’ the other man said grudgingly.

The officer gave Rhun a nod to indicate they could go, and Rhun didn’t plan to wait until he had time to change his mind. As soon as they were out of sight as well as earshot of the group, he stopped in a deserted courtyard and pulled out his comlink to contact Dyson. The smuggler answered promptly.

‘Rhun here,’ Rhun said quietly. ‘Cap, did you run into any patrols along your way?’

There was a short pause at the other end. ‘Yes, once, but we thought we’d lost them successfully.’

Rhun nodded. ‘They’re still looking for you. They are not sure if you are on your way to the garrison or the spaceport, but they must have realised you were up to something. You don’t have any kids with you, do you?’

‘No, Kjaer’s got the other one. Why?’

‘Less conspicuous. Where are you now?’

‘About to enter the spaceport.’ Dyson paused, thinking. ‘We were delayed with losing those folks. Are you at the port already?’

‘Almost.’

‘But you didn’t attract any attention?’

‘Not too much. Ren helped us out.’ With a grin, he ruffled his brother’s hair, and the boy grinned back.

‘Hug him from me. Well . . . let’s both go in right now. We’ve only got an hour left before the cavalry arrives.’

‘Right,’ Rhun replied. ‘I’m out.’ He shut off the comlink and turned to the others. ‘We can reach the ship in half an hour,’ he told them. ‘Let’s move.’

‘Who’s the cavalry?’ Ren wanted to know.

‘A fighter pilot who’s going to help us if we are followed from the spaceport,’ Rhun replied. ‘By the way, Ren . . . you acted like a real pro back there. You sure you’re not going to be in Intelligence when you’re older? How did you think of that so quickly?’

The boy shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. I thought that’s what you would have said.’

‘Pretty much,’ Rhun admitted.

‘What do you do in Intelligence?’ Ren asked as they got going again.

‘Same thing you did back there, really. Sneak around places you’re not supposed to be and get out again.’

Ren shook his head. ‘No. I want to be a pilot. That pilot who will help us, what sort of ship does he have? A TIE fighter?’

‘No, Ren, only the Empire has TIE fighters.’ He took him by the hand. ‘And now I want you to be real quiet, okay? We don’t want anyone to see us, and in the spaceport, we can’t just talk our way out the way we did just now. They’ll want to see your IDs, and they mustn’t see Mom’s.’

‘Because of our surname.’

‘That’s right.’

Riga touched her older son’s arm and asked him quietly, ‘You don’t think it would be better to call it off for tonight? With some local militia people on alert . . .’

Rhun shook his head. ‘We’re almost there, and we won’t get a chance like this again. We’ll be able to lift off as soon as we’re there, with Dyson so close, and be out of here. There are guards at the starport, but the area is large, and it’s dark. As soon as we’re in, we’re almost safe.’

‘How do we get in, then?’

‘We’re almost there.’

Rhun led them to a massive three-storey building looking over the edge of the spaceport. The whole area was fenced off by three-metre duracrete wall; even if it was a civilian facility, there were enough smugglers and pirates in the system to warrant tighter defences than at normal spaceports. There were gates in the wall at five hundred metre intervals, but they were all guarded by customs points.

‘How are we supposed to get past the guards?’ the young woman, Kiriali, asked.

‘We don’t,’ Rhun said, looking up at the building. There was a dull stomping sound from inside, as if from music. The back wall had no windows, but as they stood there, something moved on top of the building. Then a durarope ladder was lowered down to the ground.

‘Who’s up there?’ Trenc asked, aghast, but he kept his voice low. ‘Why are they helping us?’

‘This is the "Stardust",’ Rhun answered, equally softly. ‘We’re getting help from here.’ He knew that Dyson knew the owner, who did the smuggler a favour from time to time. It paid to have acquaintances in all sorts of places, it seemed.

Kiriali made sure the ladder was secure, then grasped the rope and climbed up. Rhun carefully cast a look around. There was nobody to be seen, and he knew Dyson´s ‘acquaintance’ had an even better lookout from up there, and would warn them when anyone approached.

Trenc was next, then Rhun told Ren to climb. ‘You’re not scared, are you?’ he asked him softly.

Ren shook his head, but he didn’t look convinced.

‘I’m directly behind you, Ren,’ his mother reassured him. ‘You can’t fall. Just look up, not down.’

‘Okay,’ Ren said, still uncertain, but he closed his hands around the first rung and started to climb. Riga stayed close behind him.

They were halfway up when there was a low whistle from the roof, and Rhun froze when he heard the crunch of boots behind him, half expecting to see a customs officer—or worse—when he turned, but suppressed a relieved sigh when he saw that the man approaching them was dressed in civilian clothing and walking very shakily. Before he was closer than two metres, Rhun could smell the booze. From the corner of his eye, he saw that both his mother and Ren had frozen on the spot.

The man, somewhere around thirty, did not do Rhun the favour to just go past him, but stopped before him, swaying slightly. Rhun made sure he stood before the end of the ladder so the drunk couldn’t see it.

‘Tell ya, I showed ’em,’ the man blabbered.

‘You sure did,’ Rhun agreed, then turning away to make him lose interest. No such luck. The drunk eyed him, then remarked, ‘You were there?’

‘You bet I was,’ Rhun confirmed. ‘Really impressive.’ From above, he could hear what sounded like a moan from Ren; the boy wouldn’t be able to keep quiet up there much longer.

‘But I didn’t see you there,’ the man went on, and Rhun turned his face away in disgust. The man’s breath would have been enough to make you drunk yourself.

‘I was near the back,’ Rhun answered, then turned the drunkard by the shoulder. ‘But I bet they haven’t had enough, right? There—go back and show them what’s what.’

The man gave Rhun a long, searching look, and Rhun heard Ren whimper up on the ladder. ‘Go on,’ he encouraged him. ‘I’ll come after. If you show them again, I’ll buy you another drink.’

‘Corellian?’ the man asked.

‘Sure, whatever you like. Come on.’

Rhun heaved another sigh when the drunk finally wobbled away, still muttering to himself, then he looked up. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked softly.

‘Come on, Ren,’ he heard his mother’s voice. ‘It’s only a few more metres.’

Rhun began to climb up himself, after another careful look around, but then he saw someone coming down from the roof to help Ren: Trenc. As quickly as he could, he followed them up, then crouched on the flat roof and looked around. Ren was sitting near the edge of the surface, in his mother’s arms, Trenc standing by, with Kiriali helping another figure to pull up the ladder. It was a burly man, in his forties, with balding brown hair. Rhun recognised him as the bartender of the ‘Stardust’. It did pay to have friends in all sorts of places.

‘Gotta get down from here quick,’ the man said, pulling the ladder up the rest of the way and storing it in its hiding place in a small shed on the roof. There was a small window some five metres away, through which Rhun could see light.

‘Are the others here already?’ Rhun asked.

The bartender grunted. ‘Kjaer came through here an hour ago, but I haven’t seen Dyson. He’d told me he’d be here by twenty hundred, but that was an hour and a half ago.’

‘He got delayed,’ Rhun answered. ‘He’ll be here in a moment. Or maybe he knows another way in. Which way from here?’

The burly man indicated the window. ‘In there,’ he said. ‘There’s a ladder that leads down to the gents’ room—sorry about the inconvenience,’ he added to Rhun’s mother and Kiriali.

Kiriali raised an eyebrow. ‘As long as I don’t bump into someone when I climb down there,’ she said.

The barman shook his head. ‘I put up a sign saying "Out of order." Make sure nobody sees you coming out of there, though. But that shouldn’t be too difficult, what with the sign and all.’

‘Thank you,’ Rhun said. ‘Thanks for everything.’

‘That’s all right,’ the man replied. ‘Just remind me to get suspicious the next time Dyson asks me to return a favour.’

‘Do we have to climb again?’ Ren asked in a very small voice.

‘Yes, I’m afraid so,’ Rhun answered, squeezing his brother’s shoulder. ‘But it’s only down this time, and it’s only one level, not three.’ He looked at the others. ‘Ready?’

‘Let’s go,’ Kiriali said. Rhun remembered she had already indicated she might want to join the Alliance. She had said she didn’t know how to fight, but she had a lot of courage and determination. A good person to have around.

‘Okay, let’s go, then,’ he said.

‘I’ll wait for Dyson,’ the barman offered. ‘They won’t miss me downstairs; it’s not very full today.’

Rhun nodded, then hurried to follow the others down into the building.

They didn’t have any trouble getting down and out of the bar, and Rhun made sure nobody saw them, not only on their way from the ’freshers, but also when they left the ‘Stardust’. A child Ren’s age was bound to attract attention at this time, and attention was the last thing they needed. As soon as they left the building, there would be fewer people, but the people they were likely to run into out there were best avoided.

The place in front of the ‘Stardust’ was empty. The rain had increased in strength, puddles reflecting navigation lights, which suited Rhun fine. They had to cover about a mile to the place where Eggshell was docked, and they crossed from one shadow to the next, keeping close to buildings and sheds.

‘Rhun,’ Ren suddenly said, tucking his sleeve. ‘It’s not far anymore, is it? I’m so tired . . . and my side hurts.’

Rhun remembered the boy’s injured ribs. ‘Come on, Ren,’ he said, bending down to pick him up. ‘I’ll carry you for a while. But not the whole trip, okay?’

‘Okay,’ Ren agreed, looking a lot happier.

Shifting his brother’s weight (a bit more than he’d expected, actually) he looked around another corner, then considered retreating again when he saw an Imperial customs officer walking across the pad. But the man had already seen them, so he guessed attack was the best means of defence—figuratively speaking—and walked out, pretending to be intent on his way. It was good luck, Rhun thought, that it was Dyson who had been seen by the militia and not Kjaer, in whose group there had also been one child; at the moment, Ren’s presence might make them an unusual sight at this time of night, but also very unlikely candidates for anything untoward—he hoped.

The officer cast them only a cursory glance, then hurried on, doubtlessly wishing to get out of the rain, when he stopped and looked at them again. Rhun’s heart sank. The officer came towards them, eyeing especially Trenc and his mother, who were carrying their packs.

‘You’re out late,’ the Imperial observed.

‘We got a bit delayed shopping in town,’ Rhun replied.

‘And now we’re looking for our landing pad,’ Ren added. He seemed to have developed a taste for playing Intel agent, but right now, Rhun would have preferred him to keep quiet.

‘Which is your ship?’ the officer asked.

To Rhun’s relief, Ren kept shut. ‘The Easy Rider,’ he replied, looking around. ‘But I think I know where she is again. Over there, if I remember correctly. These hangars and stuff all look the same in the dark, don’t they?’

‘Now, I always say we should have a more thoroughly organised landing area,’ the official replied, without making any move to go away. ‘Like the military spaceport over at the garrison. Impossible losing one’s way over there. But the New Order is slow to catch hold in as out-of-the-way a place as this, unfortunately.’ Rhun nodded, getting ready to go, when the Imperial offered, ‘Well, I’ll see you over to your ship. Easy Going, was it?’

‘Ah—Rider,’ Rhun amended, cursing inwardly. He’d have to be really lucky if there was a ship of that name here, but maybe the man wouldn’t check that—and at least it would draw him away from where the Eggshell stood. But it would draw them away, too. If his reckoning was correct, they couldn’t have much more time left than maybe fifteen minutes.

They followed the Imp across the landing pad to the place where Rhun had said their ship was when Ren said sleepily, ‘The evil Emperor lied to him, too, didn’t he?’

Rhun’s blood froze, and the officer turned. ‘What did the boy say?’

Rhun’s mind raced. ‘Oh, that was a line from a holodrama we saw today,’ he said. ‘"With the genial Emperor lies the hope of the galaxy." It’s from Win or Die. He’s absolutely crazy about that holo, wants to join the Navy when he’s grown.’

The Imperial seemed pleased. ‘Oh, that’s good. We always need bright kids like you.’ He was just about to resume the way when a look that Rhun didn’t like at all crossed his face. ‘When did you say you saw the movie?’

‘Uh—today,’ Rhun said. ‘This afternoon.’

‘The movie was dropped yesterday. He didn’t say anything about the genial Emperor at all, did he?’

The customs officer had his blaster out in an instant, but before Rhun could get rid of Ren, Trenc was there, grappling the Imperial from behind, his arm tight around the surprised man’s throat. He got off a shot, but it went wide; nonetheless, it had to have been heard or seen by somebody. Trenc fought to struggle the resisting officer down, and Rhun, who had finally put down his brother, came to his help. The Imperial gave a strangled sound, trying to cry for help, when Trenc got his hold on the man’s throat, and the Imperial slumped down.

Ren stared at the form on the ground. ‘Is he dead?’ he whispered, between fascination and utter horror.

‘I don’t know,’ Rhun answered truthfully, picked the boy up again and turned to the others. ‘Come on, this way, quick! If they see us running towards the Eggshell, we’re dead!’ He didn’t wait for a reply, only turned to make sure everybody was following him, then kept running along one of the hangar halls, on a roundabout course that would eventually lead them towards the freighter.

They hunched down behind a building when they saw a group of several militia men jogging across the field, glowrods in their hands, but they ran past without noticing them. Rhun was up again the instant they had turned a corner, running on. Ren seemed to be getting heavier every minute, but in his condition, the boy wouldn't be able to keep their pace.

Across the pad where Eggshell was docked, Rhun paused again, waiting for the others to catch up, and carefully glanced about him. They seemed to have succeeded in leading the police to the wrong area. He took out his comlink and cracked it two times, hoping de Boeck would be there to pick up his signal.

She was; an instant later, a double crack came back, indicating all was clear. Then the ramp opened on the Eggshell; the lights remained out, so nobody would see unless he looked that way directly.

Rhun nodded to the three others, then they all ran across the landing pad into the waiting freighter. Kjaer was standing at the ramp when they hurried up.

‘Is that all?’ he asked when Rhun, Ren, their mother, Kiriali and Trenc had entered the ship.

‘Yep,’ Rhun answered. ‘We’re all here. We can start if you’re ready.’

Kjaer’s face fell. ‘Dyson was not with you, then?’

Rhun stared at him, his stomach knotting. ‘You mean, he’s not here?’

‘Sithspit,’ Kjaer hissed. He closed the ramp, then keyed his comlink. ‘This is Kjaer. Do you copy?’

Rhun didn’t need his expression to tell that there had been no answer; the silence had been enough.

‘Are you all in?’ they heard Lieutenant de Boeck’s voice over the ship’s intercom. ‘We’ve got clearance for take-off.’

Rhun ran into the cockpit, after he’d handed Ren to his mother again. ‘We can’t lift off now,’ he panted. ‘Dyson’s missing.’

‘I thought he was with you?’ de Boeck said, turning in her chair. Samica was in the cockpit as well, as were several other refugees.

‘So did Kjaer,’ Rhun replied.

De Boeck shook her head. ‘We can’t stay, van Leuken. They’ll close the spaceport, and there’s Cargill waiting upstairs. They’ll get all of us if we don’t take off now.’

Rhun’s jaw was working as his mind raced. According to the chrono on the ship’s command console, they had six minutes left. Too little to go look for Dyson even without Imps looking for them, and with the Imps alerted to their presence, it could only be a matter of minutes before the starport was closed and all ships searched.

‘We can’t help him, Rhun,’ Samica said gently. Rhun looked up at her as if he saw her for the first time. Her face looked still puffy and discoloured, but her eyes were clear.

‘But I can’t leave him here,’ he said, helplessly, remembering another time, another ship, where he’d been forced to leave a man behind who’d been more than just a superior. From Samica’s expression, she was thinking the same. ‘And I must have led them straight into him . . .’

‘There’s nothing we can do.’ De Boeck’s voice was tight, but Rhun could already feel the engines working under him as the co-pilot prepared the ship for takeoff.

When Eggshell cleared the landing pad, Rhun pressed his face against the cool transparisteel viewport and looked out into the blackness, at the quickly receding lights of Gerion. Leaving Sergeant Haynes aboard the Star Destroyer Resolve had been one of the most terrible moments of his life, and he knew he simply could not leave Dyson behind now. I’ll get you out of there, Cap, he told himself as they entered atmosphere. I don’t care what it takes and against what orders I have to go to do it, but I will get you out of there.