When Rella and some of the others had suggested striking out instead for nearby Dorvalla IV, it was Cohl who reminded them that salvage and relief ships would be on their way to Dorvalla, and a lone shuttle, crawling through space, would certainly attract unwanted attention.

In fact, salvage crews had arrived within local hours of the explosion.

Since then, Dorvalla Mining had been employing their ferries to gather up what cargo pods they could, though much of the lommite had plunged into the atmosphere, as if bent on returning home. The detached centersphere and the other hangar arm had been hauled off, in advance of Dorvalla's bringing them down. Soon the salvagers would turn their efforts to the starboard arm.

For Cohl, the long days were no more than tedious; nothing like the years of confinement he had endured after being imprisoned on false conspiracy charges by people he had fought beside and had counted as friends. Because the rest of the shuttle's crew trusted him implicitly, they, too, suffered the monotony without complaint. Most of them were stoic by nature and no strangers to privation, in any case. Anyone who wasn't wouldn't have been selected for the operation.

Only Rella was inclined to speak her mind. But she and Cohl had an understanding.

"Anything on the comm?" Cohl asked Boiny.

"Not a peep, Captain." Rella snorted. "Who are you expecting to hear from, Cohl? The Hawk-Batis long gone." Cohl looked past her to the Rodian.

"What's the status of the systems?" "Nominal." Rella growled impatiently. "You know, I can last in here as long as any of you, but this litany is driving me space happy." She mimicked Cohl's voice, "Systems status," then Boiny's, "Nominal." She gave her head a shake. "Can't you at least come up with other ways of saying it?" "Here's something that will cheer you up, Rella," Jalan said irritably. "The arm's orbit is deteriorating." She forced her eyes wide open. "If you mean we're actually in danger of falling from the sky, you're right: I'm thrilled!" Jalan looked at Cohl. "No imminent danger, Captain. But we should probably begin to think about leaving." Cohl nodded. "You're right.

It's time we bid good-bye to this place. Served us well, though." Rella raised her eyes to the low ceiling. "Thank the stars." "Where are we off to, Captain?

" Boiny asked.

"Downside." "Captain, I hope you're not thinking of riding this thing down to Dorvalla," Jalan said. "The salvage crews will-was Cohl shook his head negatively. "We're returning to base under our own power." The crew members traded uneasy looks.

"Begging your pardon, Captain," Jalan said, "but didn't you say the base was probably being watched?" "I'm sure it is being watched." Rella stared at him for a moment. "Are you scrambled, Cohl? We've been monitoring Judicial Department ships for the past four days, not to mention Dorvalla Space Corps corvettes.

If you wanted to be caught, why did you make us sit through-was She gestured broadly. his-comth?" The others muttered in agreement.

"Even if we make it to the base in one piece," Rella went on, "what happens then?

Without a spaceworthy ship, we'll be stranded." "Maybe Dorvalla IV'S worth a shot, after all, Captain," Jalan interjected. "If we manage to make it… I mean, with the Nebula Front likely thinking that we're dead, and all that au — rodium right here with us…" Rella cast Cohl a sly glance. "Are you listening?" Cohl firmed his lips. "And when the Nebula Front learns that we survived? You don't think they'll move planets to hunt us down?" "Might not matter, Captain," Boiny said guardedly. "That much aurodium could buy all of us new lives in the Corporate Sector or somewhere." Cohl's gaze darkened.

"That's not going to happen.

We took this job on, and we'll see it through. Then we collect our pay."

He swung angrily to Rella. "Begin your preflight. The rest of you, prepare for launch." The small ship burned its way through sunlit Dorvalla's nebulous envelope, red nose aglow and losing pieces of itself to the thin air. The crew cinched their harnesses tighter and focused silently on their separate tasks, even as items broke loose from the consoles and began to carom around the cramped cabin-space like deadly missiles.

Rella aimed the trembling shuttle for a broad valley in the equatorial region, defined by two steep escarpments. There, where ancient seas had once ruled and plate tectonics had wreaked havoc with the terrain, the land was blanketed by thick forest, with trees and ferns primeval in scale.

Massive, sheer-faced tors, crowned with rampant vegetation, rose like islands from the forest floor.

Blinding white in the sunlight, the tors were the birthplace of waterfalls that plunged thousands of meters to turbulent turquoise pools.

But for all the wildness, it wasn't a wilderness.

Dorvalla Mining had carved wide roads to the bases of most of the larger cliffs, and two circular landing fields, expansive enough to accommodate ferries, had been hollowed out of the forest. The tors were gouged and honeycombed with mines, and a thick layer of lom — mite dust blanketed much of the vegetation.

Likewise the product of outsize machines, deep craters filled with polluted runoff water reflected the sun and sky like fogged mirrors.

It was from here, with an assist from several disenfranchised employees of Dorvalla Mining, that Cohl had finalized his plans for boarding the Revenue.

But not all of Dorvalla expressed a loathing for the Trade Federation, much less a tolerance for mercenaries; certainly not those who saw the Trade Federation as Dorvalla's salvation, as the planet's only link to the Core Worlds.

The shuttle was leveling out of its bone-rattling ride down the well when a blunt-nosed ship tore past to port, intent on making its presence known.

"Who was that?" Rella asked, reflexively ducking as the sonic boom of the ship's passing overtook the shuttle.

"Dorvalla Space Corps," Boiny reported, his black orbs fixed on the authenticators. "Coming about for another pass." Cohl swiveled his chair to the viewport to watch the ship's lightning-fast approach. It was a fixed-wing picket ship, single — piloted but packing dual laser cannons.

"Incoming transmission, Captain," Boiny said.

"They're ordering us to set down." "Did they ask us to identify ourselves?" "Negative. They just want us on the ground." Cohl frowned. "Then they already know who we are." "That Judicial Department Lancet," Rella said, turning to Cohl. "Whoever was piloting it probably registered our drive signature." The picket ship screamed overhead, closer this time.

"Another pass like that and they're going to knock us to the ground, Captain," Jalan warned.

"Stay on course for the base," Cohl ordered.