Fifthmonth 1103

"Should you be telling us this—isn't it classified?" Ari asked. I shrugged.

"You couldn't work out any details from what I told you. But button it, 'kay, Rix?"

The boy nodded, leaning forward.

"I wish I did exciting stuff like you, Keitin."

"I nearly died," I muttered. I was feeling miserable. We were headed for the ATT depot on Thura. I was always sent whenever Supply and Procurement had dealings with the remains of Avram Trade and Transport, and it hurt. The familiar architecture and logos and ships' insignia always underlined the fact that Shamma and Alderaan were gone, even if Avram's remained. I had been taking my mind off it by telling Ari and Rix about my recent adventures as part of the strike teams, and finished up with Mamrosp.

"You are cleared to land on Platform Seventeen," the comm chirped.

"Thank you."

"Thank you. Have a nice day, and enjoy your stay on Thura," the voice continued sweetly. Ari looked blankly at the comm.

"Force around, but she's cheerful! Rix, this is your home planet, yes? Anyone around here likely to recognize you?"

"No," Rix said, smirking. "I come from the far side, where the spaceport controllers are a bit more normal."

"All the same," I put in, "I want you to stay here, just in case. There's still a risk."

-~-~-~-~-

"It seems strange to see so many people with Rix's eyes and colouring," I said to Ari as we walked throught the spaceport together, as we had hundreds of times before.

"It's just one of those odd genetic build-ups in a population, like half of Alderaan being dark-haired."

We reached the ATT building than, and the conversation ceased. We rode the turbolift to the overseer's office. He was Corellian, but utterly trustworthy, as far as the Alliance was concerned anyway.

"I'm interested in a special consignment—usual rates," I opened the conversation. 'Usual rates' meant next to nothing. Evder Rolda, the overseer, glanced furtively around the office.

"You shouldn't be here, little lady—it's too dangerous. Last month the Imps were here, asking about you—they have a price on your head. I denied everything, of course, but—"

He pulled a sheet of flimsy from his desk. Beneath a blurred holograph was my name and a bounty of several thousand credits.

"This is not good," I said, biting at my bottom lip.

"You said it, Keit," Ari agreed grimly. I studied the holo. It looked like one taken by a security or spy cam. I was fairly certain that it came from Mamrosp—I recognised my shirt. If the Imperials had connected my face and Rebel activities to the Avram name—

"Is the company implicated, Rolda?"

"I don't think so, not yet anyway. I managed to put them off. But we'll have to be more careful in future."

I frowned. I realised my recklessness had destroyed most of ATT's usefulness to the Alliance. If the Empire was to turn its attention on the reduced Avram's traffic, it would have no opportunity to help the Rebels. I was kicking myself. Rolda was so eager to get me out of the building that he conceded to all my requests, but the success was bitter in my mouth. I followed Ari out, pulling my hood close round my face. It was lunch hour, and the hallways were all but empty. I had to trot to keep up with Ari's long stride.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. Something in my mind was whispering Danger, danger. I slowed, glancing around. I must have noted something subconsciously, and I had been in enough bad situations over the last three years not to ignore that nagging sense of danger.

"What are you stopping for?" Ari asked, annoyed. "You heard him, every second you spend here puts us at risk!"

We were in the circular entrance hall now. Sun streamed through the tall windows, onto the elaborate pattern of Alderaanian floor tiles, the busts of dead-and-gone managers, the pillared balconies. Hearing footsteps, I pulled Ari behind one of the busts on its pedestal—we had no time to make a dash for the door, and my sense of danger was increasing to paranoia proportions.

"You'd better be right about this—my foot's going to sleep," Ari whispered in my ear. I was not nearly frightened enough not to notice that we were pressed close together in our alcove, nor to enjoy it. Voices filtered through to us.

"...tell you, it was her!"

"But you can't turn her in, Antilles—she's the old lady's granddaughter!"

My eyes widened. Stang stang stang!

"The old lady's dead, and I could be doing with the money. With the new baby and my sister marrying and all..."

I peered round the bust, as the voices passed us. One of the two men I remembered seeing on our way in. All too evidently he remembered me too. I was sickened by the thought that anyone who worked for Avram's, my family's own company, could think of turning me in, or that anyone could raise their baby on blood money. My hand went to my blaster, but Ari's fingers grasped my wrist before I could draw. I knew he was right. The two men went out to the street as I watched. I craned my neck round to look at Ari. His face was set in its determined mode.

"Run," he said, pulling me out from the alcove. I skirted the wall, my boots skidding on the tiles in my haste. I paused in the pillared porch, looking both ways along the street.

"He's heading for the spaceport—alone!" I told Ari.

"What's the odds there's an Imperial outpost that way too?" he said, already heading after my betrayer. I outstripped Ari as I gained on Antilles. Perhaps Ari's foot hadn't woken up yet, or perhaps I was angrier. I slowed so Antilles wouldn't hear my footsteps, ducking into an entry as he looked behind him. He had a good eight inches of height on me, but my school combat training stood me in good stead. I got the feet from him, grabbing his hair. With my other hand I slammed the butt of my blaster against his skull. He dropped like a pole-axed nerf-calf.

"Good work!" Ari panted, coming level with me. "Now, run!"

We dived for the cover of my entry, as people were already hurrying to Antilles' unconscious form. Once we were back in a crowd, we slowed, glancing behind us nervously. I called ahead to Rix, and he met us anxiously at the top of the ramp.

"What's wrong?"

"Some nark at Avram's recognised her, and the Imps have a price on her head."

Rix gave an "Oooh," of horror as I shepherded the two of them into the cockpit.

"Strap down, we're going," I said, scrambling into my pilot's seat. We streaked away from Thura, Swift responding to my sure touch like a lover, bounding skywards eagerly. I could tell that the boys, like myself, feared a repeat of our pursuit from Ulasas, but we reached hyperspace without further incident.

-~-~-~-~-

"You understand, don't you? It's just too great a risk, both for you and for us."

I stared down at the floor of 'Grandfather's office.

"I can't help but feel it was my fault," I murmured. He shrugged, face grim.

"It's the luck of the draw, Avram. Consider yourself fortunate to be alive an not in an Imperial prison. You can still be of use to us here in the Coop."

He nodded dismissal. It wasn't of my usefulness to the Alliance that I was thinking, but of my impending separation from Ari. I felt as though I would rather have died. I found him outside with Rix, near Swift.

"Well, it's official. I won't be flying any more. You two are on your own. I'm giving Swift completely to the Alliance. I won't be needing her any more—"

A sob cut off my voice. I swiped angrily at my eyes.

"Hey," Ari said very gently, "she's just a ship—a good ship, but a ship."

"You think that's all I'm bothered about?" I retorted, drying my eyes. But I would miss Swift too. She held a hundred memories; Shamma and Dan and the house in Aldera, the Alderaanian sun on her copper flanks, Coruscant and Ulasas and Thura and a thousand worlds between. Ari.

"I'm going to miss you," I said, smiling weakly.

"I'm sure we'll see you again," Rix said bracingly; Ari looked uncomfortable.

"Clear skies—and blessings on your path." It was the old Alderaanian farewell. I hugged them both, and if I lingered longer in Ari's arms who could blame me? I heard the roar of the Swift's takeoff an hour later, but I did not watch her go. I had already said my goodbyes.

-~-~-~-

Sixthmonth 1103

"Two to the coop," I said into my helmet mike. "Nothing to report. You see anything, One?"

"Not a sausage," the voice crackled back over the comm. "Talking of sausages, meet you back at the Coop for lunch?"

"Surely. Two out."

I turned the fighter's nose towards the asteroid belt. Being the most junior member of the patrol, I had ended up flying the Coop's ancient Delta-Seven. At a guess it was older than I was, but it still served us for our patrols. My astrodroid warbled some comment. I glanced down at the screen.

"Yup, Arfour, I'm bored too. But look on the bright side—if anything unfriendly did come into the system, we would both be dead. I'm not much use in a combat situation—not in a starfighter anyway. And we can't escape to hyperspace in this thing."

Arfour opined that he would be better off without me as pilot, and I sighed. I must have the only hypochondriac astromech in the galaxy, I thought. I stared out at the starscape, under pretence of doing a visual scan. It was a long time since I had had an opportunity to simply look at the stars, and with only a transparisteel canopy between me and them, the view was glorious. Feeling slightly agoraphobic, I headed for the Coop, the Delta-Seven's sensors alert to asteroids, comets and incoming Rebel traffic.

Since our unlucky trip to Thura, I had knocked around the Coop, doing any odd jobs that came my way. Flying the routine starfighter patrols, working in the comm room, feeding coded messages into the decrypter, even refuelling and checking over the motley fleet. Even with this, I had a lot of spare time, much of which I spent gazing into nothing and missing Ari. He had been back once since then, and I had seen him briefly, but base rumour hooked him up with Suki Zerah. I was bitterly jealous, and with reason, for he spent as much time with her as with me.

I landed in the cramped hangar between the Headhunters, and headed for the canteen.

"Avram!" I turned to see 'Grandfather' hurrying down the corridor, juggling datacards.

"I wanted to see you, Avram. How would you feel about being transferred to the military?"

-~-~-~-~

A few days later, I found myself in an Alliance star frigate, undergoing a medical exam. I was feeling both apprehensive and nostalgic; my chances of seeing Ari had just been reduced to practically nothing. I had written a note to him, and swallowed my pride to ask Suki to pass it on. She had been so kind that I had been ashamed. I was worried about my future as well—being stationed in a military base would be on the the front lines of this strange war. But surely it couldn't be that much more dangerous than my experiences on Ulasas and Thura?

"Ensign Avram?"

I took a second to respond to my rank. No one in the Coop bothered with such niceties. The medidroid had changed its vocoder to the female range, presumably to make me feel more comfortable standing half-naked in front of it. Stripped to my skivvies, I was shocked at how much weight I had lost in the past few months.

"You are somewhat underweight, Ensign," the droid's opinion chimed with my own, as it churned around, analyzing blood samples.

"However, you are suffering from no disease or injury, and your pysch profile is stable. I report you as fit for service."

I redressed and went to pick up my kitbag from the locker where I had stowed it. I was headed for the military.