The following day Mrrov and Muuurgh made ready to set off on their “honeymoon” and Bria and Han prepared to raise ship for the Corellian system.

At their final moment of parting, Muuurgh grasped Han by the shoulders and shook him, very gently. “I will miss you,” he said in his halting—but much improved—Basic. “Must you go? You like Togoria, you said so. Without you, I would never have found Mrrov. The Margrave of all Togoria has asked me to tell you that you and Bria are welcome to stay forever. You can hunt with us, Han. Fly mosgoths. We would be happy.”

Han smiled at the big alien. “And see Bria only once a year? I’m afraid that’s not the way we humans do things, pal. But thanks for the invite, Muuurgh. Maybe I’ll come back and see how you and Mrrov are doing someday.”

“Han do that, and soon,” Muuurgh said, his Basic disintegrating in the face of strong emotion. He grabbed the Corellian in a hug, scooping him clean off the ground. Han hugged him back.

Bria and Mrrov also exchanged a fond farewell. “You will conquer your need for the Exultation,” Mrrov told Bria, earnestly. “I did. For a long while after I made myself resist it, I grieved for it. But after many days, the longing eased, and now I never feel it. I let my anger against those slavers help me wipe the longing from my spirit.”

“I hope I can be as strong as you, Mrrov,” Bria said.

“You already are,” the Togorian female assured her. “You just don’t realize it yet.”

Once aboard the Talisman, Han lifted the Ylesian yacht into the clear skies of Togoria with a genuine feeling of regret. “This is a good world,” he said to Bria, who was sitting beside him in the copilot’s seat. “Good people, too.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “It was certainly good to us. I’ll never forget yesterday, if I live to be a hundred.”

Han smiled at her. “Me neither, sweetheart. All my life I wanted to go to the beach and just be able to act like a regular citizen—no scams, no security forces to worry about, no contraband burning a hole in my pocket. Thanks to you, I know what that’s like, now.”

She gave him such a tender smile that he leaned over and kissed her. “Bria … I …” Han hesitated, took a deep breath, and then shook his head.

Squaring his shoulders, he turned back to his controls and grew very busy with his piloting. Bria sat there watching him, never taking her eyes off him as he calculated their jump to hyperspace, and fed the coordinates he’d chosen into the navicomputer.

When the stars streaked by them, and they had safely made the jump, she swiveled her seat toward his and put a hand on his arm. “Yes?” she said. “Go on. You were saying?”

Han tried to look innocent, and failed. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“You were about to tell me something, when you got busy piloting. Well, we’re safely in hyperspace now, so there’s no reason you can’t tell me.” She smiled slightly. “I’m waiting.”

“Well, I was just thinking … that I’m hungry,” he finished in a rush. “Really hungry. Let’s go get some lunch.”

“We ate before we left, barely an hour ago,” she reminded him. Her expression gentle, she reached out and captured one of his hands and held it in both her own. “Tell me,” she said.

“Well …” He shrugged. “I’m telling you I’m hungry again.”

“Are you?” she asked quietly.

“I …” He shook his head, obviously ill at ease. “Uh, no. Hey … Bria, honey … I’m no good at this.”

“You’re good at some things,” she said, smiling impishly.

“Like what?” he challenged, grinning back.

“Like … piloting. And fighting. And rescuing people.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.” He looked at her again, and all the sudden rush of bravado faded. “Bria … what I was trying to say was that I …” He cleared his throat. “This is not easy.”

“I know,” she said. “I know.”

Raising his hand to her lips, she kissed it, then said, “Han … I love you, too.”

He looked both pleased and surprised. “You do?”

“Yes. For a long time, now. I think I fell in love with you that day in the refectory, when you wouldn’t go away, no matter how much I told you to.”

“Really? I didn’t know until … I don’t know when I knew. But when I figured it out … it scared me, Bria. Never happened to me before.”

“Loving someone? Or being loved?”

“Both. Except for Dewlanna. She loved me, I guess. But that was different.”

“Yes.” Her eyes were shining. “This is different. I just hope we can be together, Han.”

Now it was his turn to take her hands in his. “Of course we’ll be together,” he said. “I won’t let anything get in the way of that. Count on it, sweetheart.”

·  ·  ·

Han set a course for the Talisman that took them far away from Hutt space and brought them in a leisurely three-day trip to the Corellian system. He was deliberately prolonging his and Bria’s time alone together. Inwardly, he was dreading having to go back to Corellia and meet her family. He knew almost nothing about how “citizens” lived, and he was pretty sure he would have trouble fitting in.

He also knew that once they reached Tralus, he’d have to get busy. Han was all ready to change identities as soon as they landed on Corellia. But Bria would be wanted by the t’landa Til and the Hutts, too, and they knew her real name. The first thing Han planned to do as soon as he had credits available was to equip Bria with a fake ID.

Besides, he was trying to give her as much time as he could to heal. He knew she still pined for the Exultation, though she no longer broke down in panic attacks or fits of sobbing. But several times he’d awakened in the night to find her gone.

When he searched for her, he usually found her in the control cabin, sitting in the copilot’s seat and staring out at the stars with such wistful longing in her eyes that Han felt a pang of jealousy.

Why can’t I be enough for her? Why isn’t our love enough? he wondered. He wanted to be enough for her, wanted her to be happy and content—but he could tell she wasn’t. It grieved Han, and it made him angry, too.

Once he tried to talk to her about it. “It’s been almost ten days! Why do you miss it so much, still?” he demanded, hearing the edge of anger in his voice and unable to stop it. “Tell me, Bria. Make me understand!”

She gazed at him, her blue-green eyes very sad, almost haunted. “I can’t explain it, Han. It’s like they took a piece of me … a piece of my spirit. It’s not just missing the Exultation itself, the pleasure, the warmth. I’m getting past that. It’s the …” she faltered, then fell silent.

He was sitting beside her in the pilot’s seat, and he reached out and grasped her hands. They were cold, and he warmed them gently in his. “Go on …” he said quietly. “I’m here. I’m listening.”

“Both Mrrov and Teroenza were wrong when they said only weak-minded people fall into the trap of the Ylesian religion,” Bria said slowly, selecting her words with care. “Oh, some of the pilgrims may be discontented people who’ve never been successful in life and are looking for a way to escape responsibility. But not most of them. I got to know a lot of them, Han.”

“Yeah, you did,” he encouraged.

“Most of the Ylesian pilgrims were … idealists, I guess you’d say. People who believed that there was something better, some meaning to life. They went looking in the wrong places, they got fooled into believing the priest’s bilge about the One and the All … but that doesn’t make their goal—their aspiration—of believing in a higher power stupid.”

He nodded, and saw tears gather in her beautiful eyes and spill over. Concerned, he burst out, “Bria … sweetheart. Don’t tear yourself up like this! Just because this religion turned out to be a hokey fake doesn’t mean life isn’t worth living. We have each other. We’re gonna have money. We’ll be fine.”

“Han …” Gently she touched his cheek, caressed his face, and gave him a loving smile. “You’re the ultimate pragmatist, aren’t you? If you’re not getting shot at or caught in a tractor beam, life is great, right?”

He shook his head, a little stung. “I’m a simple guy, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I can’t understand what you’re talking about, Bria. It would be nice if there were some higher power, maybe. I just don’t happen to believe there is. And it hurts me to see you hurt.”

“Han … don’t you realize that the only person you can really take care of and protect is you—”

“And you, Bria,” he broke in. “Don’t forget that for one second. We’re a team, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” she said. “We are a team. But it’s hard for me to be content with not being shot at or having money. I want more.”

“You want some reason for everything that happens. You want to work to make your ideals real,” he said.

“Yes,” she agreed. “But I understand that you don’t let questions like the meaning of life torment you. You’re probably the smart one, Han.”

“Smart?” Han frowned. “I ain’t dumb, I know that, but I never pretended to be a philosopher or something.”

“Right. You don’t go around tearing yourself up over injustice and corruption and wrongdoing. You accept things as they are, and you figure out ways around them. Right?”

He thought about that, and finally nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. Maybe, a long time ago, I had some ideas about how I could become someone who righted wrongs and kicked the bad guys’ butts, but”—he sighed and gave her a wry smile—“I think I got those ideas beaten out of me by the time I was just a little kid. When you lived under Garris Shrike’s rule, you tumbled pretty quick to the fact that nobody was gonna look out for you except yourself—and that sticking your neck out for anyone else was a good way to get it whacked off.”

“How about Dewlanna?” she asked.

“Yeah, I knew you’d bring her up.” Han ran a hand through his hair and grimaced. “Dewlanna was different. We looked out for each other, yeah. But she was the only one, Bria. The only one who gave a vrelt’s ass if I lived or died. Knowing that made me a … pragmatist, I guess.”

“Of course it did,” she said. “That’s perfectly natural.”

“But go on,” he urged. “You were saying about how the pilgrims were … idealists. Are you one?”

She nodded. “I think so, Han. All my life I wanted to be more, to be better—to make the universe a better place because I was in it. When I found the Ylesian religion, I really, truly thought that was it. That I could somehow change the universe by believing and having faith.” She smiled wryly and shrugged. “Obviously, I picked the wrong thing to believe in.”

“Yeah,” he said, turning over in his mind what she’d said. “But there are other things to believe in, Bria. Maybe some of ’em are real. Maybe you just have to find out what the real things are.”

She stood up and came over to him, then bent down to kiss the top of his head. He stood up and slid his arms around her, held her tightly. “I know what one real thing is,” she said. “You’re real. You’re the most real person I’ve ever met. The most alive.”

He kissed her cheek, and she laid her head on his shoulder. They stood there like that for a minute, not speaking. Finally, he said, “Dewlanna told me about something she believes in. Some sort of life-strength shared by all creatures, all things. She believed in that. She swore to me it was real.”

“Maybe I should go off to Kashyyyk,” she said. “On a pilgrimage.”

“Sure,” he said. “Someday we’ll go there. I’d like to see it. Dewlanna said it was a beautiful world. They live in the treetops.”

“That would be nice,” she said dreamily. “Just you and me in a treetop. What would we do with ourselves all day?”

“I can think of one thing,” he said, and bent to kiss her with such passion that even the stars seemed to reel around her in long streaks, and her ears rang …

No, she realized, a moment later, it wasn’t Han’s kiss that had caused that reaction, it was the alarm beeping to tell them they were coming out of hyperspace. Han grimaced. “Talk about bad timing, sweetheart. But … later, okay?”

She smiled. “Later … I’ll hold you to it.”

He was already back in his seat as he checked their coordinates, but he spared a moment to give her a grin that made her heart turn over. “I can hardly wait …”

   Han set the Talisman down in a privately owned landing field on Tralus. “What is this place?” Bria said, following him down the ramp and looking around her in bewilderment. Ships of all sizes and descriptions were clustered together. Some were little more than rusted-out hulks … others looked almost brand-new. None had any identifying codes or names, however. Those markings had been scoured off by laser torches. “It’s like … a ship’s graveyard or something.”

“Yeah. Old spaceships never die … they just wind up at Truthful Toryl’s Used Spaceship Lot,” Han said. “When you need a ship, or you want to get rid of a ship, and you don’t want to leave a … trail … you come here.”

Her eyes widened. “These ships are all … stolen?”

“Most of ’em,” he said. “Ours is, too … remember?”

Bria grimaced. “I keep trying to forget.”

Han glanced over at the small office set in the middle of the vast landing field. “And here comes Truthful Toryl himself,” he said.

Truthful Toryl was a Duros, a tall, thin, blue-skinned humanoid. Completely bald, his face was quite human except for the absence of a nose—which gave him a mournful appearance. Han stepped forward, his hand held out. “Good day to you, Traveler Toryl,” he said. Duros loved to travel so much that the word “traveler” was their preferred honorific. “I’m Keil d’Tana, and this is my associate, Kyloria m’Bal. Very pleased to meet you.”

“And I you,” Toryl said. “Greetings to two travelers. You have time for refreshment and sharing of stories?”

The Duros were famed for being wonderful storytellers throughout the galaxy. A Duros had a near-photographic memory for any story he or she heard. Most Duros “collected” stories, and apparently Toryl was no exception.

“I’m sorry,” Han said. “We are in a bit of a rush. There’s a passenger vessel we have to catch.”

“I quite understand,” the Duros said. “Since you are taking public transport, I gather you are here to sell, not buy, a ship.”

“You’re right, Traveler,” Han said. “It’s in prime condition, too. A lovely little pleasure yacht. Just needs a little refitting to be perfect for some rich Corellian family who wants to take the kids on the perfect vacation.”

“Yacht?” Bria thought Toryl’s voice sharpened on the word, but couldn’t be sure. “I will look and quote you a price, Traveler d’Tana.”

Han led the way to where the Talisman rested. The Duros’s normally mournful-appearing features lengthened even farther when he saw the Ylesian vessel. “Let me show you around,” Han said, pointing at the ramp.

The Duros shook his bald blue head. “No need,” he said. “I can offer you five thousand. Firm.”

Han gaped at the alien, completely shaken out of his normal confident demeanor. “Huh?” he said blankly. “What? That’s crazy! Five thousand for a ship like this? That’s scrap price!”

The Duros bowed slightly in Han’s direction. “Indeed it is, Traveler Draygo.” He bowed in Bria’s direction. “And Traveler Tharen.” Waving a hand at the Talisman, Truthful Toryl said sadly, “I agree that it is a shame to reduce such a beautiful vessel to scrap. But that is all I could do with her. The Hutts are searching for this vessel … searching intensively. As they are searching for the resourceful pilot Vykk Draygo, who stole her.”

Han turned away, and Bria saw his lips move in a scathing curse, but when he turned back to face Truthful Toryl, his composure was in place again. “I see,” he said. “Five thousand … firm.”

“Yes. I might be persuaded to raise that price slightly if you and your companion would tell me your stories …” Toryl added hopefully.

“Sorry, pal, no can do,” Han said. He shrugged. “Okay, five thousand it is. Cash.”

“Cash it is,” Truthful Toryl said.

   Later that same day, “Janil Andrus” and his wife, “Drea Andrus,” boarded an intersystem shuttle bound for Corellia. Bria had worried about posing as husband and wife, but Han had assured her that the Hutt SECURITY ALERT bulletins listed them as being single. Privately, he was worried about whether the Hutts would try to trace them, since they knew Bria’s last name, but he was also aware that the Hutts wouldn’t want a scene or their scam on Ylesia revealed to the public. He had to hope that would keep them from openly trying to have them arrested. Han wasn’t figuring on staying on Corellia long …

The pair arrived on their homeworld early in the evening and caught a transcontinental shuttle to the southern continent, where the Tharen home was located. When they arrived at the station, which Bria said was within walking distance of her home, they were tired and grubby, with no way to change clothes. Their only luggage was the backpack that held Teroenza’s treasures.

“So …” Han said, shifting from one foot to the other and looking out of the station window into a soft, foggy drizzle, “now what? Find a place to hole up until morning? Or should we call ’em and warn ’em?”

“I think I had better call,” Bria said, sounding uncertain herself. “Wait here.” She headed off to borrow the station master’s comlink. A few minutes later she was back.

Han saw how drawn and tired she looked and put an arm around her. “So … how’d it go?”

She smiled wanly. “My mother nearly fainted, then she started screaming at me.” She sighed. “I know she loves me, but the ways she shows it make me want to scream sometimes. She wants the best for me—as long as it’s her idea of what’s best!”

Han nodded, thinking for the first time in his life that perhaps he’d been lucky, in a way, never having to deal with parents. “So do we start walking?”

She shook her head. “No. My father is coming for us in the speeder. He’ll be here any minute.”

Even as she spoke, an expensive speeder pulled up outside of the station. A handsome, distinguished-looking man with gray hair and a heavyset build was at the controls.

As Han and Bria approached the vehicle, the man leaped out of the speeder and, laughing and crying at the same time, embraced his daughter. Long moments later he turned to shake hands with Han. “I’m pleased to meet you,” he said. “I understand from Bria that you saved her from … well, from terrible things. All I can say is … thank you. Thank you, er …”

“Solo, sir,” Han said. “Make it Han.”

Tharen’s grip was firm. “Please … call me Renn, Han.”

“Yes, sir.”

The ride to Bria’s home was short. They passed through a reinforced set of security gates, then headed down a road that seemed to have no other houses on it. Han glanced to each side and saw high fences, the type he’d used to sneer at back during his days as a burglar. “Not many people live out here,” he observed.

“Oh, this is our land,” Renn Tharen said carelessly. “Bought it years ago as a cushion between ourselves and our neighbors. I’m a man who likes my privacy.”

He turned the vehicle into a drive that was closed with a another, equally reinforced but more ornamental gate. Beyond it, Han saw the house and mumbled a virulent curse in Huttese under his breath. Bria, baby … he thought grimly, why didn’t you tell me your family was rich enough to buy and sell half of Corellia?

The house was huge … wings and modified towers, and landscaping to match. The Tharen house made cousin Thrackan’s place look like a cottage. Bria turned to Han and smiled tremulously. “Well, we’re here.”

“Yeah,” Han said, deliberately keeping his voice noncommittal. He could tell that Bria was nearly sick with anxiety, and he didn’t want to worry her more than she was. At least there was one advantage to Bria’s parents being rich—the Hutts would never dare to try to grab her while she was in her parents’ home. That would surely cause a major interstellar incident, and Hutts preferred to work clandestinely.

Before the party could reach the front door, Bria’s mother came bursting out, dressed in a flowing gown that Han could only recognize as “rich.”

“Darling!” she gasped, enfolding Bria in her arms. Han stood off to the side, glad to be out of the way until Bria and her parents were finished with their greetings.

Midway through the whole hubbub of greetings, recriminations, tears, embraces, and excited questions and answers, Bria’s brother came home. Han recalled Bria saying her brother’s name was “Pavik.” Unlike his sister, Pavik Tharen took after his mother; short, slender, with dark hair and green eyes. He was a handsome youth, and seemed genuinely fond of his sister.

It was a long time before Bria could disengage herself from her family to introduce Han. Eyes shining, she took his hand and led him over to meet her mother, Sera Tharen, and her brother.

“Pleased to meet you, Lady Tharen,” Han said, shaking hands and putting on his best manners. “And you, Pavik.”

Bria’s mother’s handclasp was limp and unenthusiastic. She studied Han, and he gained the quick impression that she didn’t much like what she saw. He sighed inwardly. I’ve got a very bad feeling about this…

“Well, please come in,” Sera Tharen said. “Let’s all sit down. I must say, this has been a shock. I never thought I’d see my baby again, I really didn’t. Bria, darling, how could you do this to us?”

Still murmuring recriminations, Sera Tharen led the way inside.

When Han reached the parlor of the house, and they all sat down, he had to repress the urge to leap up and stride out. I don’t belong here, he thought. I know it, and they know it.

The thought made him angry. Refusing to let his discomfort show, Han sat down and lounged back against the opulent cushions with a deliberate show of ease. He looked around, his professional eye automatically assessing the credit value the knickknacks and decorations would have to a fence. “Nice place,” he said casually.

“Well, er—” Sera began.

“Han. Call me Han, Lady Tharen,” Han said.

“Very well, Han,” Bria’s mother said stiffly, “I gather we have you to thank for Bria’s return.” Her eyes were fixed on Han’s blaster, and he realized that, like most citizens, none of Bria’s family went armed. Tough, lady, Han thought. I don’t take off my blaster for you or anybody. Live with it.

“Well, I tried to be helpful, Lady Tharen,” Han replied. “But I couldn’t have managed without Bria. She’s plenty tough when she wants to be. Good in a fight.”

Lady Tharen stiffened, and Han realized that the woman would not regard what he’d said as a compliment. “Oh, dear …” she murmured. “Bria, darling, before you sit down, why don’t you go and change? Really, dear, where did you get those dreadful clothes?”

“The tailor droid at the Ylesian Colony,” Bria said quickly, and she cast an appealing glance at Han, as if to ask whether he’d be all right.

Han gave her a reassuring wave. “Run along, honey.”

Lady Tharen stiffened again at the casual endearment. Bria smiled at Han, gave her mother and brother a doubtful glance, and went quickly from the room.

“So, Han,” Pavik Tharen said, “what do you do?” He was staring closely at Han, his eyes assessing in a way that made the pilot uncomfortable.

“Oh, whatever it takes to get by,” Han replied carelessly. “Mostly I’m a pilot.”

“In the Navy?” Lady Tharen asked, brightening slightly. “Are you an officer?”

“Nope. Freighters, ma’am. I can fly most anything, anywhere. That’s why I was on Ylesia, running—” Han broke off, remembering for the first time in a long while that the contraband spice trade was highly illegal, “That is, hauling cargo.”

“Oh,” murmured Lady Tharen, obviously not understanding, but uncomfortable with Han’s answer. “How interesting.”

“Yeah, it has its moments,” Han said.

“I started out as a pilot, many years ago,” Renn Tharen said, a note of approval in his voice. “When I was about your age, Han. Worked my way up until I owned the shipping company. That’s how I made my first million.”

Han thought of telling Renn Tharen that he was intending to enter the Imperial Academy, but the habit of not revealing any personal information was too ingrained. He just smiled and nodded at Bria’s father. “Those were the exciting days, sir,” he said. “Lots of pirates back then, right?”

Renn Tharen smiled. “I had a few run-ins. I imagine you have, too.”

Han smiled back. “A few.”

Sera Tharen looked from one to the other, vaguely disturbed. “Oh, dear. That sounds … dangerous.”

“Comes with the job, Lady Tharen,” Han said.

“But I’m forgetting my manners!” she said. “Captain Solo, can I get you something to drink or eat?”

“I wouldn’t mind an Alderaanian ale,” Han said. “And some flatbread with meat and cheese. We’ve been traveling all day.”

“I’ll tell the cook,” Lady Tharen said. Han was astonished to realize that the “cook” was a living being, a female Selonian, instead of a droid. This further evidence of wealth impressed him more than anything he’d yet encountered.

By the time Bria reemerged, Han was sitting out in the dining room, eating. He saw her walk out and paused in midbite.

She wore a plain blue-green dress that matched her eyes. The soft fabric had a faint sheen and clung to her in all the right places. And, for the first time since he’d known her, Bria’s hair was attractively styled, brushed out into a halo of soft red-gold curls. She looked so different from the blaster-toting thief of a few days ago that it was as though she’d stepped out of another universe.

It’s a good thing Ganar Tos can’t see her now, he thought wryly. “You look beautiful, honey,” he said. “That’s a pretty dress.”

Han was sophisticated enough to realize that dress probably cost more credits than the average space pilot earned in a week. She’s been raised to have so much, he thought uneasily. How is she going to react to living on the salary of, first, an Imperial cadet, then an Imperial officer?

Bria smiled and sat down beside him. “Mother, could I have something to eat, too? I’m starved!”

As Han and Bria munched their late-night snack, her family gathered around the table and sipped expensive vine-coffeine from fragile Levier-made porcelain cups, while the butler, another Selonian, waited on them.

“So, Captain Solo … you’re Corellian?” Lady Tharen said, raising a delicate eyebrow to indicate that she was pretty sure he was. Han, still chewing, nodded, then swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And your family?” she asked. “Are you one of the Sal-Solos?” There was a touch of hope in her voice. “They have a lovely old estate, I understand. I’ve met the son a few times, but Lady Sal-Solo is very reclusive. I understand her health is not robust.”

“No, Lady Tharen,” Han replied. “No relation.”

“Oh,” she said, visibly disappointed. “What branch of the family are you from, then?”

Bria was looking very uncomfortable, Han noticed, but he couldn’t tell whether she was ill at ease for him, or because of him. “Don’t know, Lady Tharen,” he said honestly. “I’m an orphan, most likely. Traders found me wandering in an alley down by the waterfront near Capital Spaceport when I was a little kid. I was raised by ’em. Spent most of my time in space.” Part of him took a perverse pleasure in watching her reaction to this information.

“That’s odd,” Pavik Tharen said. “You look so familiar. I know I’ve seen you somewhere before. Somewhere … at a barbecue, I think. I have a mental picture of seeing you at a barbecue that followed a swoop racing meet.”

Han stiffened inwardly. Now that Pavik mentioned it, Han remembered him, too. Pavik was probably two or three years older than Han, and Bria’s brother had been a frequent competitor at some of the swoop races. Due to the age difference, they’d never raced against each other, but Han remembered seeing him.

And, of course, every time he’d done major swoop racing, Han had been part of a “family unit” created by Garris Shrike to scam wealthy Corellians out of their money.

“Sorry, don’t remember you,” he said casually. “I’ve been off-world for the past several years. Afraid I ain’t been to a Corellian barbecue since I was a kid.”

“But I remember it distinctly …” Pavik said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “You were leaning against a swoop, eating a plate of barbecued traladon ribs. The picture in my mind is very clear.”

“Funny thing about that,” Han said, leaning back in his seat with a smile. “People are always saying stuff like that to me. I must have one of those kinda faces—so ordinary that lots of people confuse me with other folks.”

“I don’t think you’re ordinary-looking, Han,” Bria said, not understanding what was going on, but trying to be loyal. “I don’t think anyone who ever met you could forget you. You’re … unique.” She gave him a smile. “Handsome, too.”

Han took a deep breath and managed to smile blandly at the assembled Tharens. “Thanks, honey,” he said. “But I’m really just an ordinary kinda guy.”

Bria finally caught the subtle hint and fell into silence. Pavik Tharen continued to study Han suspiciously.

“Well,” Sera Tharen said too brightly, “I’m sure you’re both tired. Captain Solo, I’ll have Maronea prepare one of the guest rooms for you. Bria, obviously you’ll want your room back, and, dear, I haven’t changed a thing. I just knew that someday you’d come to your senses and return to us!”

“I really couldn’t just decide to leave, Mother,” Bria said quietly. “Once you go to Ylesia, they won’t let you leave. There are no ships, and there are armed guards. If it hadn’t been for Han … I would never have been able to escape.”

“Oh, dear …” Lady Tharen said, distressed and looking as if she didn’t know what to believe. Han had the impression that the woman’s entire exposure to the seamier side of life probably occurred through the tri-dee action-adventure serials.

“I understand that, Bria,” Renn Tharen said, holding Han’s eyes with his own. “And I’ll never forget it. Han is a hero, Sera, and we owe him more than we can ever repay. If it hadn’t been for him, we’d never have seen Bria again. He probably saved her life.”

“Oh … oh, dear …” Lady Tharen was increasingly unnerved by these allusions to the danger her daughter had been in. Pavik Tharen was looking increasingly skeptical.

Han followed the Selonian maid, Maronea, to the room on the far side of the house. He was amused to note that his room was as far as it could possibly be from Bria’s and that the master suite occupied by her parents lay between the two rooms. Bria’s mother, it seemed, had decided to nip any chance of wee-hours assignations between her guest and her daughter in the bud.

Can’t wait until we sell Teroenza’s stuff and get outta here, he thought as he undressed and crawled into the bed. Bria’s dad ain’t so bad, he seems like he used to be a regular guy, but her mom and her brother …

Han sighed and closed his eyes. Tonight, at least, Lady Tharen need have no fears. He was so tired that the only thing on his mind was sleep. Funny thing about that … in some ways, spending two hours in the company of Bria’s family had tired him out more than that whole escape from Ylesia …

   Bria’s mother came into her room to say good night and give her a last hug before she fell asleep. It was a tearful time for both mother and daughter. They hugged and cried a little, then hugged again. “I’m so glad to have my little girl back,” Lady Tharen whispered.

“It’s good to be back, Mother,” Bria said, and at that moment she sincerely meant it. The evening had been a strain, no doubt. But things will get better, they’re bound to, she thought, trying to comfort herself. Han is so lovable. She’s bound to fall for his charm and see how wonderful he is …

“This young man you’ve brought home …” her mother said, almost as though she’d been reading her daughter’s mind. “It’s fairly obvious that you’re not just … friends, dear. Exactly how … involved … are you two?”

Bria gazed at her mother unflinchingly. “I love Han, Mother, and he loves me. He wants me to stay with him. Nobody has mentioned marriage, yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the subject came up.”

Her mother took a quick, sharp breath, as though her worst fears had been confirmed. But something in Bria’s choice of words alerted her, and like a hungry vrelt, she pounced. “I see. Well, he seems like a nice young man, though somewhat … rough around the edges, dear. But you say that he wants you to stay with him. Is that what you want?”

Bria nodded her head, then shook it, then had to fight back tears. She shrugged miserably. “Mother, I’m not sure. I know I love him, really love him, but … it’s been hard for me. Leaving Ylesia, finding out that the religion I believed in and was devoting my whole life to was nothing but a lie. That hurt … a lot. I feel as though part of me is missing, Mother. And I also feel that I can’t really promise to stay with Han when I’m not … whole.”

“Does he know you have these doubts?” her mother asked, smoothing Bria’s hair back tenderly. The young woman didn’t miss the spark of happiness that had flared up in her mother’s eyes when she’d spoken of her uncertainty about staying with Han.

She doesn’t want me to stay with him, she realized with a dull ache of expectation fulfilled. I knew she’d be like this. It’s so unfair! The only reason I’m uncertain about staying with Han is because of ME, not how I feel about him! But she doesn’t understand—she’s incapable of understanding.

“We’ve talked,” Bria said, unwilling to confide in her mother any more than she’d already done. “And I can’t imagine life without Han, so I’m going to do the best I can to stay with him and be a help to him.”

Her mother looked troubled, but said no more. Bria lay down and tried to sleep. Being in her old bed was a luxury after sleeping on the hard Ylesian bunks, and in the ship. She missed Han’s warmth, though. Her bed seemed cold. Bria tossed and turned, thinking of Han, wondering what she should do.

He deserves someone better, she thought sadly. Someone who can be there for him one hundred percent …

Pounding her pillow in frustration, Bria felt tears well up again. Why can’t anything ever be EASY? I found a man I can love, who loves me—why can’t that be enough?

But it wasn’t. Alone in the darkness of her childhood room, Bria acknowledged that.

She began to cry softly, aching with misery. After a long time, she cried herself to sleep …

   The next day Han left the Tharen house shortly after breakfast and headed off to catch the shuttle to the nearest large city. He carried with him the backpack containing the items he and Bria had stolen from Teroenza. After the disappointing revenues received from the sale of the Talisman, Han knew he had to get top price for their small treasure trove.

He disembarked from the shuttle in the port city of Tyrena and went to a lockbox office, where he retrieved a few hundred credits and a set of “clean” IDs for one “Jenos Idanian.” Then he went off to a branch of the Imperial Bank and opened an account, using the credits and ID.

When that errand was finished, he went in search of an antiquities and art store he recalled from past escapades. It had been several years since he’d visited it, and for all he knew, the little store might have closed.

But no, the place was still there. The sign above the door was picked out in subdued holographic lights, opalescent against the plain gray stone of the storefront. Han, toting the backpack, went inside. As he opened the door, he could hear a soft chime from deep within the store.

Han saw the clerk behind the counter, but he ignored the female Selonian. Instead, he walked as directly as possible through the labyrinthine paths between the displays of merchandise, until he reached a small door set inconspicuously at the back. It was covered with an ancient tapestry depicting the founding of the Republic, and only certain “customers” ever discovered the door was behind it.

Once there, he looked around to make sure he was alone and unobserved, then he knocked sharply, in a preordained pattern. He waited, and after another minute the sound of an electronic lock being released sounded from the other side of the door. Han raised the tapestry, slipped under it, and walked through, into the back room.

The proprietor was an old, old man, still spry despite his stooped body, wrinkled face, and wispy yellow-white hair. Galidon Okanor had looked exactly the same in the five years since Han had first met him. Now he looked up and smiled at Han. “Well, it’s … um … who, today, son?”

Han smiled. “Jenos Idanian, sir. How are you?” He genuinely liked the little man, who was, at one and the same time, a genuinely respected art assessor and appraiser, and a very competent and trustworthy fence.

“Oh, can’t complain, can’t complain,” said the little man. “Because if I did, what good would it do me?” he added, emitting a wheezing chuckle.

“You got a point,” Han said.

Okanor sat down on a high stool before a table that was lit with a jeweler’s and appraiser’s light, specially angled and illumined to show flaws in gemstones and cracks or flaws in antiques. He waved to a seat opposite his. “Sit down, sit down, Jenos Idanian. What have you brought me today?”

“Lots of things,” Han said. “I’d like a price for the lot, and I’d like the credits deposited immediately in the Imperial Bank on Coruscant.”

“Fine, fine,” said Okanor. He rubbed his aged, veiny hands together. “You usually have good taste, Jenos. Now let’s see what you’ve brought me!”

“Okay,” Han said, and began unloading the knapsack, placing each item on the table beneath the light. He held back his favorite treasure, though, a tiny golden statue of a long-extinct Corellian paledor. It was beautiful, and its eyes were flawless Keral fire-gems.

Okanor watched avidly, occasionally uttering a soft “oh” or “ahhh,” but he forbore to speak until Han was finished. Then he carefully picked up each piece, studied it intently, sometimes through a jeweler’s glass, then placed it on the table again and went on to the next.

“Remarkable, most remarkable,” he said, finally. “I am going to break a rule of mine and ask you where in the name of the galaxy you found all of this? In a museum? I do not approve of stealing from museums, you know.”

Han shook his head. “Not a museum.”

“A private collection?” Okanor pursed his lips. “I am most impressed, lad. The collector in question is a sentient of taste and discrimination. I will also tell you, young man, that he is not very particular about his acquisition sources. I recognize, from their description, that at least half of these items have been reported stolen. Some have been on WANTED lists for years.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Han said. “And you, you’ll sell ’em to museums, won’t you?”

“Most of them, most of them,” Okanor agreed.

“Okay, then, that’s good,” Han said, thinking that would please Bria. “That’s where they should be. So … how much?”

Okanor named a figure.

Han gave the old man a look of withering contempt and reached for his knapsack. “There’s a guy over in Kolene who will be thrilled to get a look at this stuff. I can see I should have visited him first,” he said, reaching for the scrimshawed bantha tusk from Tatooine.

Okanor named another, higher figure. Silently Han began stowing items in the backpack.

Okanor sighed as though he’d just breathed his last and named another figure, considerably higher than the previous sum. “And that’s final,” he added.

Han shook his head. “It better not be, Okanor. I need at least five thousand more than that.”

Okanor clutched his chest and watched with anguished eyes as Han continued to stow items away in the backpack. Finally, as Han reached for the last, the tiny sculpture carved from living ice, he squeaked, “No! Don’t! You are killing me! Impoverishing me! I shall be naked in the streets, Jenos, lad! Would you do that to an old man?”

Han gave him a feral grin. “In a heartbeat, Okanor. I know what I need to get out of this deal, I have a pretty good idea what it’s worth, and I ain’t taking less.” He gave the old man an intent stare. “Frankly, Okanor, I can’t afford to take less. I’ve got something important to spend these credits on. If what I’ve got in mind works, you won’t see me again. I’ll be outta all this for good.”

Okanor nodded. “All right. You’ve broken me, Idanian. I’ll meet your price.”

“Good,” Han said, and began taking the items out of the backpack again.

He left the store with a satisfied smile, and carefully stowed his “Jenos Idanian” IDs and the bank record into his credit pouch. He’d travel under different IDs and leave “Jenos Idanian” “clean,” only using him for the bank withdrawal. He planned to store the golden paledor in a safe place he knew about. It never hurt to keep a little something in reserve for emergencies …

Knowing that Okanor’s credits would be waiting for him on the capital world of the Empire, Han headed down the street toward the shuttle station, whistling.

   When Han walked up to and through the gates of the Tharen estate, he noticed a small, very sporty landspeeder hovering in the paved courtyard. He approached the door and found a young man standing inside, in the parlor. Pavik Tharen and his mother were there, talking to him. When Sera Tharen saw Han, her face fell. She was hoping I’d cut and run, Han thought sourly.

“Hi, Lady Tharen,” Han said. “Is Bria around?”

The young man turned to regard Han. He was a good-looking fellow, perhaps a year or so older than Han himself, and he was tastefully but fashionably dressed for an afternoon of net-ball.

“Hello,” the young man said pleasantly, holding out his hand. “I’m Dael Levare, and you are—” His gaze sharpened, and before Han could speak up, he exclaimed, “Wait a minute! I thought you looked familiar! Tallus Bryne, right?”

Han could think of no curse profound enough. He smiled weakly and shook hands. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

“Tallus Bryne?” Pavik Tharen said sharply.

“But he’s—” Sera Tharen stopped abruptly when her son nudged her, none too gently.

Dael Levare was oblivious to the byplay as he wrung Han’s hand. “What an honor this is! I still remember the day you set that record, and you did it by flying through the tunnel on Tabletop Mesa rather than over it! Everyone thought you were a goner, but you pulled it off!” He turned to Pavik. “You mean you didn’t recognize him? Is this Bria’s new suitor? The swoop racing champion of all Corellia! Your record still stands, Bryne. Or may I call you Tallus?”

“Tallus is fine,” Han said with a mental shrug. The vrelt’s in the kitchen for sure, this time …

Bria’s entrance was a welcome interruption. Han tried to catch her eye and give her a “look sharp” high-sign, but all her attention was for the newcomer. “Dael! What are you doing here?”

“Your mother invited me over,” Dael said. “You’re looking wonderful, Bria. I’m so glad to see you back safely—and with such a distinguished escort! I’ve wanted to shake this man’s hand ever since he won the swoop racing championship, last year!”

She looked at her mother. “You invited him over, Mother? How nice …” Han didn’t miss the edge in her voice, and the flash of guilt in Sera Tharen’s eyes. I get it, Han thought angrily. Mama here wanted Bria to see me next to her rich-guy ex-fiancé, figuring I’d come out looking like some kind of low-life jerk.

“Well, yes, dear … I knew Dael would be able to catch you up on all the news with the young crowd … much better than I could …” Sera Tharen twittered nervously. Bria’s lip curled, and she turned away from her mother to smile at Dael.

“Well, Dael, it was lovely of you to drop by. Perhaps we can all get together for lunch someday. Who are you seeing these days?” As she spoke, she moved toward Dael, and in one smooth motion took his arm and started him moving toward the door. Han smiled inwardly. Slick, Bria, honey … nicely done.

“Sulen Belos,” Dael said. “She’d love to meet Tallus, too. She’s quite a swoop racing fan.”

“Tal—” Bria caught herself immediately, and laughed. “Well, she always was!” She cast a flirtatious glance at Han. “I’ll have to watch you, won’t I, Tallus? Sulen Belos is gorgeous, and she’s never been able to resist a swoop racer.”

Han smiled at her good-naturedly. Great. Just great. From bad to worse. “You gotta watch us swoop racers, too. We live for danger.”

Half out the door, Dael Levare laughed, as though Han had said something clever. “Well, I’ll call you. Nice meeting you, Tallus!”

“Nice meeting you, too,” Han said.

“Don’t forget to call,” Bria urged, and then she shut the door behind Levare and leaned against it.

Silence ensued.

Han had never heard such a profound silence, even inside a spacesuit in vacuum. He glanced quickly from Bria, to Pavik, to Sera. All three were staring at him grimly. Han cleared his throat. “Think I’ll take a little walk,” he announced. “Get some air.”

Not meeting anyone’s eyes, he left.

   Bria felt like screaming, then sobbing, but she struggled to control herself. The situation was bad enough without her dissolving into hysterics. She was pacing back and forth in her mother’s dressing room. Pavik was sitting on the couch, waving his arms and raising his voice, and her mother was sitting in a pink brocade chair, alternating between gasped exclamations of “Oh, dear!” and “Bria, your brother is right, we must do something!”

“You heard him last night!” Pavik shouted. “He denied having swoop-raced, and he gave us a fake name! Han Solo—right! Who knows what his real name is?”

“Stop it!” Bria cried. “Han Solo is his real name!”

“Then why is ‘Tallus Bryne’ listed as the swoop racing champion of Corellia last year?” Pavik said. “He can’t be both, Bria. Face it, the guy’s using an alias, and the only reason to do that is that he’s got stuff to hide! And this is the guy you want us to accept with open arms, just because you say so?”

“Oh, dear!” Sera wrung her hands.

Bria bit her lip to keep from shrieking.

“And another thing,” Pavik said. “My memory is starting to come back on this, and ‘Tallus Bryne’ wasn’t Solo’s only alias. The time I remembered was about three years earlier. He was just a kid, eating barbecue after a swoop race. That time, ‘Solo’ was ‘Keil Garris,’ the son of Venadar Garris. Remember him? That guy who went around one summer selling shares in that duralloy asteroid, and the whole thing turned out to be bogus? A scam?”

Bria did remember. “But even if this Garris man was a con artist, that doesn’t mean that Han—”

Pavik threw up his arms in exasperation. “Sis, don’t you remember how a couple of our friends’ parents were nearly wiped out from buying worthless shares in that nonexistent asteroid?” He snorted. “That whole Garris family was nothing but a bunch of con artists—and that includes your new boyfriend, Bria!”

“This is terrible!” Sera Tharen said. “Perhaps we should do something!”

Both Bria and Pavik ignored their mother.

“But Han was just a kid then,” she pointed out, fighting not to give in to tears. “You admitted that. He can’t be held responsible for what you say his parents did.”

“But he doesn’t have any parents—or so he told us!”

Bria glared at him. “Well, maybe they were his parents, and he’s disowned them because they were crooked,” she said. “Pavik, Han is a good person! He’s had a tough life and wound up having to do things he didn’t like to survive, I already know that. But he’s turned around now! He’s trying to make something of himself, and you won’t give him that chance!”

Pavik snorted derisively. “If they even were his parents,” he said. “Sis … don’t be blinded by good looks and the fact that he rescued you! Face it, this guy may have romanced you because he’d checked our family out and found that Dad has money!”

“Oh, dear!” Sera said. “Do you mean that the boy is a thief?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Mother,” Pavik said.

“I should go and check to see whether anything is missing,” Sera Tharen gasped. “Oh, dear, oh, dear, where shall I have him sleep tonight?”

“Mother, he’s not going to be here, tonight,” Pavik said. “I’m calling security. I’m sure this guy is wanted for all kinds of things.”

“Don’t you dare!” Bria cried. “If you call security I’ll never speak to any of you again! You’re wrong about Han! He had absolutely no idea my family was wealthy when we met. I never told him until we got here!”

“A guy like that has sources to check,” Pavik pointed out. “He probably checked you out within days of knowing you, and found out everything he needed to know.”

“No, he didn’t!”

“Bria … I’m not trying to be an ogre!” Pavik said. “I’m just trying to make you see reason! I don’t want you to be hurt, and I don’t want you to get involved with someone who lives on the wrong side of the law!”

“Han isn’t like that!” Bria cried, then taking a deep breath, she amended, “Okay, I admit that in the past he probably was. But he’s different now. He’s going to enter the Imperial Academy and become an officer. Can’t you give him a chance? He’s trying to change his life!”

“That’s what he’s told you, Bria, but guys like that lie for a living,” Pavik said. “I’m calling security.”

“Oh, dear!”

“No!” Bria stared wildly at her brother, for a moment wishing she were wearing a blaster. She couldn’t let him do this!

Pavik’s hand was actually on the CONNECT button on the comlink, when a voice from the doorway stopped him in his tracks. “Don’t, Pavik. I forbid it.”

All of them turned to see Renn Tharen standing there.

“But, Dad, you don’t know—” Pavik began.

“Yes, I do,” Tharen said. “I’ve been in my study, and the door was open. I’ve been listening to this entire disgraceful scene, and I’m telling you, Pavik, you’re not calling security.”

“But, Renn …” Sera Tharen began. Her husband turned to her, his glance scathing.

“Sera, I’m tired of you trying to use our daughter as a pawn to further your social ambitions. You’re most of the reason she ran away last year. So stop it. Do you understand me?”

“Renn!” Sera Tharen gasped. “How dare you speak to me like that?”

“Because I’m angry, Sera, angry clear through,” Bria’s father snarled. “How can you be so blind? You don’t understand the danger our daughter was in on Ylesia! Look!”

Seizing Bria’s hand, her father dragged her over to stand before her mother. Taking her hands, he thrust them out before his wife’s eyes. “Look, Sera! See her hands? See these scars? Those people mistreated Bria, they made her a slave. She might have died, Sera, if not for Han. I’m grateful to him, even if you don’t have the common decency to realize that! He’s a good kid, and I say that Bria could do far worse.”

“But—” she whispered, wringing her hands and beginning to cry. “Oh, Bria, your poor hands, darling …”

“Not one more word, Sera. I forbid it.”

Sera Tharen subsided into her chair, weeping softly.

Renn Tharen whirled around to confront his son. “Pavik, you’ve become as judgmental and class-conscious as your mother. I’m tired of you, too.” Renn glared at the young man. “You’re talking about a man who risked his life to save Bria from slavery. Bria’s right about him applying to the Imperial Academy. Han Solo is a decent guy. He reminds me of myself when I was his age. There are some incidents in my past I’m not proud of, either. He deserves a chance, not jail. He deserves our thanks, not a call to CorSec.”

When Renn Tharen stopped speaking, silence reigned. Then, with a sobbing gasp, Bria ran to her father and threw her arms around him. “Thank you, Dad!”

   Han had walked the entire length of the Tharen estate, and was on his way back when he saw someone coming down the path toward him. It was Bria, and she carried a good-sized bag slung over her shoulder.

Han saw her expression and stopped. “What is it?”

“Come on,” she said. “Before we’re missed. We’re getting out of here. I don’t trust Pavik not to make that call to security behind Daddy’s back.”

Han turned back toward the transport station. “You sneaked out?”

“I left them a note,” she said defensively. “Did you get the money transferred to Coruscant?”

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Han said.

They walked for a few minutes in silence, then Bria said, “Someday, I’d like to know all the truth. I hate surprises of this sort, Han.”

He sighed. “I should have told you. I will tell you. Everything. I promise. I’m just not in the habit of trusting anyone.”

“I can tell,” she said grimly.

“Nice of your dad to stick up for me.”

“Daddy says you remind him of himself, when he was a young pilot.” She smiled faintly. “I gather he led a rather checkered existence for a few years, out on the Rim.”

Han nodded and, cautiously, reached for her pack. “I’m really sorry about this. Let me carry it?”

She sighed and surrendered her bag. “Okay. It was probably a bad idea to come here, anyway.” After a moment she reached over and took his hand. “Now it’s just the two of us again.”

Han nodded. “That’s the way I like it, sweetheart.”