“YOU THERE!”

“Me there,” Kanan said, emerging alone from the short hallway with a white towel in his hand. Less than a minute had passed—and two of the stormtroopers had reached the table he’d vacated.

“We’re searching this establishment,” the one with the female voice said.

“For what?”

“A spy, here to meet a traitor.” The male trooper shoved past Kanan and entered the short hallway.

“You’re kidding.” Kanan laughed. “Have a look around,” he said, picking up his empty mug from the table and rubbing it with the cloth. “If your spy’s here tonight, he’s blasted off his boosters!”

The female stormtrooper surveyed the cheering crowd. A blitzed Ugnaught, snout-faced and only a meter tall, was riding drunkenly around on the head of a similarly soused Ithorian. The brown-hided, hammer-headed titan had a pitcher in each long-fingered hand and was lumbering around trying to serve both himself and his small passenger at the same time without spilling any ale.

A normal night for The Asteroid Belt, in all respects.

“Maybe that’s your traitors there,” Kanan said, pointing to them with a smile.

“Never mind,” the stormtrooper said. “We’re also looking for a pilot from Moonglow. We don’t have pictures of him yet, but he’s a witness—the bomber stowed away on his ship. We were told he lives here.”

“On the floor, maybe,” Kanan said, walking to set the empty mug on the bar. “These pilots are in one night, out another.” He reached for an empty bottle and pitched it in the trash. “I’m just the bartender. Can I get you something?”

From down the short hallway, the other stormtrooper called out, “There’s someone behind this door!”

“Uh-oh,” Kanan said, stepping lively to get there first. There was a small door to the left at the end of the corridor, and the stormtrooper that Kanan had seen earlier was about to kick it in. Kanan stepped up and raised his hand. “You really don’t want to go in there.”

The stormtrooper looked up at Kanan, helmeted head tilted slightly in puzzlement.

And then they all heard it: the loudest, most sickening retching sound, coming from behind the door. Something metallic inside banged loudly against the wall, and then against the door, before the horrible heaving noise began again.

“It’s one of the Wookiees,” Kanan said, shaking his head. “Always thinks he can handle Trandoshan ale. That stuff can take the finish off a landspeeder.”

The female stormtrooper didn’t turn away. “But that doesn’t sound—”

She was interrupted with a horrific symphony of heaving, louder than before. Kanan looked behind the armored pair. “Bring the heavy stuff, Layda!”

“Excuse me!” Hera, wearing a long apron, appeared in the open doorway on the other side of the hallway. She exited the storage room holding a mop in one hand and a carrying case of industrial-strength cleansers in the other. While the stormtroopers watched, she set the case down outside the door and reached in to find several cloth face masks. She tied one over her face, and then another. “You’ll want to get back,” she said to the watchers as she placed the third shield over her mouth. “I don’t know if those suits will protect you.”

“Rrrraaa-arrghh-arrggh-arrrrgh!” came another miserable howl from behind the door. The pounding resumed.

“I think we’ll move along,” the female stormtrooper said. Her partner’s body language showed immediate relief. “If you see any suspicious characters,” she said, “call the authorities.”

“Gotcha,” Kanan said.

Once the front doors closed behind the stormtroopers, Kanan whipped out a key and opened the door. There, inside a small storage closet, squatted a terrified Skelly, holding a metal pail in his hands. “Was that loud enough?” he said, yelling into the pail and producing a noisy echo.

“Get out of there,” Kanan said, grabbing at him. “And get out of here!”

Keeping the hood pulled low over Skelly’s head, Kanan shoved him back into the main room, along the bar, and out the side door. The stormtroopers and their transport were gone; only Okadiah’s hoverbus remained.

Reaching the stoop, Skelly lifted his cowl and called back plaintively. “So, do I get that ID badge or not?”

Kanan answered by slamming the door and locking it.

Hera was leaning against the bar, apron removed, when he turned.

“Nice tactics, there, Kanan.” He could tell from her expression that she was impressed. “If you want them to leave, make them want to leave. Very smooth.”

“I’ve got a lot of experience avoiding stormtroopers.”

“Oh?” she said. “Why’s that?”

“I don’t like their fashion sense.”

She smiled. “Come here.”

Kanan did—and was pleasantly surprised when she reached out to touch him. “You’ve been holding out on me,” she said, running her finger along the collar of his shirt.

“I’d never do such a thing.” He sidled up closer to her, surprised by this new attitude. If excitement turned her friendly, he wasn’t going to object. “You can have anything you want.”

“Great,” she said. “I want your Moonglow pass.”

“I’d—” Kanan said, before her response registered. “You want what?”

“Your pass,” she said, and jabbed her hand inside his neckline to grab at something. She pulled out a gold-colored card, secured around his neck with a lanyard. “You work at Moonglow. I didn’t know that, until Skelly mentioned it. I want your pass to get on the grounds.”

“I don’t think you can just—”

“I’ve seen the gate. It’s automated.” She made a swish-swish motion with her hand. “Simple.”

“Wait. Why do you want to get into the factory?”

“Denetrius Vidian.”

“Ew,” Kanan said. He walked back over to the bar, where many of his friends beckoned in comforting glass containers. “Believe me, sweetheart, I’m much better-looking.”

“I know what he looks like,” she said, following him to the counter. “He’s the reason I’m here.”

“That’s even worse,” Kanan said. He began pouring them drinks. “Look, I know there’s no accounting for taste. But you’re way too good for someone like him.”

“I’m not in a relationship with him. I’m trying to find out why he’s here.”

“I’d have thought that was obvious. He’s here to get more blood out of stones—or thorilide out of crystals.” Handing her a glass, he joined her on her side of the counter. She was really serious about this—whatever that she was into. “I never have figured out why the Empire needs so much thorilide.”

Hera shook her head. “That’s not the mystery here. They’re building Star Destroyers at a rate to put one in every home. The mystery is why Gorse,” she said, “and why now.”

“What do you mean?”

“They were already kicking the stuffing out of you guys to speed you up before Vidian showed up. That’s why your pal Skelly—”

“Not my pal!”

“—it’s why Skelly and a lot of people like him have been so vocal. Gorse and Cynda were not worlds the Empire was honoring with its negligence.”

“Careful,” Kanan said, taking the excuse to lean closer to her and show her his winning smile. “Treasonous words, there.”

“I think I’ll trust Zaluna’s surveillance sweep. So explain to me this,” she asked. “Vidian’s administrative domain is centered on Calcoraan, sectors away. But lately, his whole Imperial career seems to have led him toward one goal: getting authority over Gorse and Cynda. And the second he got it, he called up an Imperial escort to take him here.” She ticked off the mysteries on her fingers. “Now, does that seem strange?”

“Strange that a smart person has nothing better to obsess over than the life of some Imperial weirdo,” Kanan said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Why do you care?”

“Because where Vidian goes, pain follows. Friends of mine have vanished, their worlds have suffered. But everybody wants something. If I can find out what he’s after, maybe I can do something about it.”

Kanan shook his head. What was she—eighteen, maybe? Taking on an Imperial power broker? “Seriously, how did you come up with all this stuff?”

“I have eyes and ears. I read. I talk to people. I listen.”

“You talk to people like Skelly and Zaluna, you really are desperate. Skelly’s a mess. And it didn’t sound like Zaluna was looking to be a part of any of this. She was fulfilling a last request, not picking up a cause.”

A distant look came to her eyes. A little sad, he thought. “No,” she said, “they’re not really the sort of people who could be—” She stopped herself and started again. “They’re not the sort I’m looking for.”

“I could have told you that. I did, in fact.” He put his hand to his chest. “I’m another story. Very reliable. And I’m about to be available.”

“Available for what?”

“For whatever.” Kanan stood upright. “I’m leaving this planet—and I recommend the same for you. You’ve been fun to be around, street fights notwithstanding. Forget this Vidian business, and we can go wandering.”

She regarded him with skeptical amusement. “I don’t think so,” Hera said. “We just met. I don’t even know what you are.”

“Ask anyone.” Kanan waved over the heads of the drunken mob. “Okadiah! Tell her about me!”

Unseen amid the drunken crowd, Okadiah called out, “A fine pilot, an occasional humanitarian, and a somewhat tolerable houseguest. Marry him, my darling!”

“That’s an endorsement?” Hera asked, straining to see where the voice had come from. “Can he even see me?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Kanan said. “Anyone will tell you. I can do anything.”

“I don’t want you to do anything.”

“I know the sector. I know people. I know people who know people.” He turned around. “Here, watch this. What was the name from Zaluna’s list?”

“The guy the Empire was inquiring about?” She didn’t miss a beat. “Lemuel Tharsa.”

His eyes scanned the room. “Hang on,” he said. “Okadiah!”

The old man stepped through the crowd toward them. “You beckoned?” Laying eyes on Hera, the old man bowed admiringly. “Oh, you definitely beckon.”

Hera lowered her eyes and grinned.

“Did you know a Lemuel Tharsa?” Kanan asked.

“I may have known several Lemuel Tharsas. Is there a shortage?”

“He was around twenty or so years ago,” Hera said. “I was wondering if you remembered who he was.”

Okadiah shook his head. “It grieves me to disappoint you, my dear. But no. Never on one of my crews.”

Hera nodded. “All right. Thank you.”

Starting to turn away, Okadiah looked back. “Now, if he worked for the refineries or the Guild administration, I wouldn’t have seen him unless he came into the bar. You might ask Boss Lal. She’s a lifer at Moonglow—from back in the days when it was Introsphere. She might have personnel records.”

“Thanks!”

“But please don’t look at mine,” Okadiah said. “I don’t want you knowing I’m too old for you.”

“Get out of here,” Kanan said, shoving his friend away. “He’s got kidney stones your age,” he told Hera.

“Your remark wounds,” the older man said, and drifted away.

Hera looked up at Kanan. “Well, now, I really want to get in over there. Will you give me the badge or won’t you?”

Kanan rubbed his forehead. “I knew you were going to say that. Look, it’s been a long day. In a few hours, I’ve got to run these people back to Moonglow for the morning shift—those that regain consciousness, anyway. I also need to pick up my final pay. You come with us. If you insist, I’ll take you to the grounds and get you in.” He put up his hands. “But that’s it, all right? No crazy stuff.”

She studied him for a moment. Finally, she nodded. “Okay. Just this one thing.” She raised her glass. “And no crazy stuff. That’s my motto.”

—

Hera returned to her ship, resisting Kanan’s offer of lodging at The Asteroid Belt. It turned out that “drunks sleeping on the floor” was more than a jocular expression; Okadiah Garson owned the building across the alley, where exhausted revelers, for the princely sum of a credit a head, retired to the luxury of mats on the hard floor. Kanan had offered to give her the more private room upstairs from the cantina—with him either present or absent—but she’d decided to pass. She had a lot to absorb.

Zaluna had never resurfaced, and Hera doubted there was any point in trying to make contact. If Hera had arrived earlier, or if the Sullustan woman hadn’t been scared off, she might now have the data cube from Transcept, obviously a treasure trove of information on people and Imperial surveillance methods. But Hera wasn’t angry at fate, or herself. Every plan ran the risk of failure due to the unexpected. Recriminations were a waste of valuable time.

But Kanan Jarrus had surprised her, and people seldom did. In Shaketown, she’d seen a brawler, a typical roughneck. But in the bar—beyond his romantic interest, which she had decided to find amusing—she’d seen him act with subtlety and cunning.

It was timely, but likely a onetime thing. She didn’t expect to have a chance to find out, in any event.

No, her real quarry remained. Vidian wanted increased production from the world, obviously, but the urgency of his visit had her thinking something else was going on. If Vidian was here on a secret mission—maybe a secret mission for the Emperor—then she wanted to know.

And then there was Lemuel Tharsa. From her ship, she’d checked the public HoloNet and found Tharsa was alive and well and living offworld as a mining consultant, doing freelance work for the Imperial government. Why, then, would anyone aboard Ultimatum want to check out his distant past on Gorse? Might he be a potential traitor in Vidian’s midst—and an ally for her, were she to warn him?

She would look for answers tomorrow, at Moonglow. She would find the truth—and the truth would tell her what to do. As it always did.

She forced herself to sleep.