The Steadfast settled down onto the natural rock moor within the mountain fortress of Trg'Siarairi beside a YT-1210 model freighter. Steam rose from the ship's pressure valves, which were wide open to blow compressed air into the YT-1300's support struts. Drake grabbed his comlink from the console and retreated into the flight corridor beyond the cockpit with Nikaede fast on his heels.

"Is that Ferdusi's ship?" Suhailya asked. "I don't recognize it." She cued the exterior hatch and waited impatiently for the ramp to lower to the ground.

"Except on rare occasions, bounty hunters are not welcomed on Socorro. As soon as they break into the atmosphere, they get painted with a digital tag that alerts every smuggler and pirate on the planet. Trust me. We left him in the storm."

"He can't be far behind."

"Far enough. Copy that, partner," Drake replied as Nikaede moved into the corridor behind them and out of sight. "Set the perimeter to 15 meters."

"Where's she going?"

"Not too many people get the chance to sabotage my ship." He chuckled as the movement of the lower sentry gun reverberated through the deckplates. A yellow beacon flashed along a sensor strip in the ceiling as an alert that the ship's defenses were active and functioning. "When we're not around, the Steadfast can take care of herself."

"Did you ever think to attach a 'Beware of the Wookiee' sign to the hatch?"

"Where's the fun in that? Here, you're going to need these." Drake handed her a pair of protective goggles and a scarf for her face, covering her lekku to protect them from the sandstorm. "Lead the way, Nikaede!"

Taking Suhailya's hand, he kept the other in the Wookiee's pelt for guidance and hurried down the ramp into the breath of the wind and blistering sand. As the storm intensified, they made a run for the gaping apertures of the interior landing bays. Together, they bolted up a winding flight of stairs, which were ornately carved from the natural rock. Steeply sloped at a 45-degree angle, they struggled upward, often on hands and feet, scrambling to reach the first landing above the docking moors.

At the top, Nikaede pointed to a Ghtroc Light Freighter coming in at full speed. The battered tramp freighter recklessly positioned itself above an empty moor and made a sharp, dangerous descent onto the landing pad between the Steadfast and the other transport.

"That's him," Suhailya said, her voice muffled beneath the scarf.

Drake watched the bounty hunter and two mercenaries in combat armor disembark from the Ghtroc. Blaster rifles locked in their hands, they raced up the staircase. "He's certainly not shy about killing off the competition."

"Nothing in the rules against it," said an armed guard at the hangar entrance. Burly arms crossed over a black and gray composite armor chestplate, he glared at them with a feigned smile of welcome. Carrying a blaster carbine, the Gamorrean across from him snorted in amusement, a trickle of snot dripping from its flared nostril.

"Are we the first ones?" Suhailya asked.

"No, he was the first," the Human said, pointing down the far side of the steep incline to another section of docking pads. An unmoving body laid at the base of the stairs. "Someone put a blaster bolt in him before he got here. Died trying to get up the stairs."

"And you didn't help him?" Suhailya said, eyes narrowed in fury.

"Was already dead. No medicine for that affliction. If you want to keep your position, I suggest you move along." He nodded to the landing pad where Ferdusi had just landed. "Until you reach the sanctuary and get verified, you're fair game, lady." He jerked back into cover as blaster fire erupted around them, blasting rock and debris into the teeming wind about them.

Drake drew his heavy blaster, knelt, and fired. His marksmanship at long range took Ferdusi's mercs by surprise. The Nduuati bounty hunter dropped behind a stonewall for cover. His Rodian companion collapsed beside him, a smoking hole in his chest. "Nik?"

The Wookiee responded, using their uphill advantage to pin down their rivals while Drake led Suhailya at a run up the next staircase, nearly tripping in his haste. Breathless and panting, they sprinted across the fortress' main hangar floor, directed to the sanctuary by a heavily armed contingent of guards along the way. Having spent much of his childhood playing at the fortress while his father conducted business, Drake knew the way without guidance and led them toward the inner sanctum.

The vestibule of the fortress was immense and well defended by guards and turrets mounted in the ceiling. A crowd of more than a hundred people were waiting inside, cheering as Suhailya and he came sprinting from a secondary docking arena, where private ships were permitted to moor. Popping corks of Mandalorian wine, Corellian brandy, and Socorran raava, the well wishers showered them with the expensive liquors and cheered as they ran for their lives to a table in the rear of the room.

Drake recognized the man seated at the table on a raised dais above the main floor. Berhanu Gloke—one of the members of the Black Bha'lir Tribunal, the men who ruled Socorro with such influential dominance that even the Empire gave the planet a wide berth.

"Welcome to the winner's circle," Berhanu said. "Please present your cards for verification."

Drake threw down the Idiot, the Maw, Moderation, and the Queen of Air and Darkness."

Scanning the cards, a woman glanced up at Drake, suspicion in her eyes, and then stepped back, announcing, "The codes are authentic. This winner is verified." A thunderous eruption of applause and shouted accolades went up in the hall, sending vibrations through the earthen foundation of the fortress.

"Talk about beating the odds," Berhanu said. He spread his arms in welcome and grinned majestically as he came from behind the table. A swath of brown hair, lightly peppered with gray at the temples crowned his head, becoming neatly trimmed side burns that tapered to the goatee on his chin. "After that sabotage fiasco on Kuria, I was worried. But then Fortune brought you a Socorran, and not just any Socorran, the Little Prince of Socorro. Well done, Drake."

"Uncle Berhanu?" Drake said, remembering to mind his tone. The man before him was considered infallible among their brethren. "You knew?"

"It's my business to monitor the race. Can't interfere, of course," he said with a shrug, "not even for a fellow Black Bha'lir. Nearly gave up when you drew the Maw card. Thought you were a goner, kid." Berhanu winked at them and blew a ring of smoke into the air. But two had the grit and the pluck. Thanks to you, I'm 150,000 credits richer."

Drake listened to Nikaede's angry retort and translated. "While you were betting on the race, people died, Uncle Berhanu. They were murdered. And for what? So you could make a few credits?"

"Spoken like a true Socorran," the Corellian smuggler replied. "It's why you will always be just our country cousins. People die all the time, Drake. That's life—some go sooner, some later. We all make that Final Jump. Difference is ... in making it on your terms. Not everybody gets that chance. Though I was sorry about your father, Suhailya. He was a good friend of the Bha'lir and—" He was interrupted by the sound of loud, angry voices in the outer hall. "What's all that racket out there! Can't hear myself think!"

"It's Feyyaz Ferdusi, the Nduuati bounty hunter who rigged my ship and murdered my father, as well as those other racers, desecrating the Judges of the Dead," Suhailya said. She reached for the lightsaber in her boot.

Drake grabbed her hand, intending for the gesture to be mistaken as concern. He propped the heel of his blaster in the holster, and subtly shook his head. The Bha'lir were smugglers and pirates by trade, with a ruthless reputation that was well earned, but they were also a superstitious bunch. They cared little for Imperial authority, Alliance sympathies, and even less about Jedi on either side of the light.

"Put your rulebook down, boy. Keep it holstered. You're the winners fair and square, and I won't have any of this nonsense in my place. If the blood banker's got a protest, I'll hear him out." He cocked the heavy blaster Caelli-Merced in his holster and whistled for an additional contingent of armed guards to come into the room.

Feyyaz Ferdusi stormed into the hall, the flush of rage adding a hint of color to his gray skin. Framed by a braided mane of blue hair, his handsome face showed the spoiled whims of a man used to having it all his way. "Your animal destroyed my droid," he said to Drake through clenched teeth. "Ripped it to pieces. I want compensation."

"Actually, she blew it up with a thermal detonator, and then she ripped it apart." The Wookiee confirmed her actions in a boastful growl and punctuated the confession with a prolific string of profanities.

Ferdusi turned to Berhanu. "Have you declared a winner?"

"Check your cards, tracer," Berhanu replied. "Should have gone dark. These two have been verified as the victors. There is no prize for second place."

Moving with blinding speed, Ferdusi leveled his blaster rifle at Suhailya's face. But before he could squeeze the trigger, a dozen or more blasters were pointed at his head.

"We'll have none of that," Berhanu said, throwing his cigar to the floor and crushing the butt beneath his heel. "See out there, you can play by whatever rules you bring to the table. But in here, at my table," he indicated his small fortress, "you abide by my rules. Hope you understand Basic, son, 'cause I can't make it much clearer than that."

"What if I want to lodge a protest?" Ferdusi sneered. "On behalf of my sponsor."

"We're all civilized men here." Berhanu snapped his fingers and an associate, a Rodian, handed him a freshly lit cigar. "Let's hear it."

"The Twi'lek cheated. She finished in a ship with a pilot that did not initially start the race."

"And you murdering competitors—leaving my father for dead on Kessel ten years ago—isn't cheating?" Suhailya screamed. She struggled as Drake fought to restrain her.

"Three cards, three jumps. The invitation and last leg don't really matter," Berhanu said. "The Steadfast made all three jumps per the rules, but feel free to petition the Geimann. If he feels that your protest is in order, he can officially overrule my judgement and declare a new winner."

"I will speak with him. Now." Ferdusi threw the blaster rifle over his shoulder, eyeing the smugglers about him with malice.

Berhanu again snapped his fingers. A procession of eight men labored to carry a carbonite casket into the room, tilting it upright, and opened it to display the preserved body within it. "Make your peace, son. That there is the Geimann."

"That's your ward of petitions?" Ferdusi hissed. "He's dead."

"That he is. Shot him dead myself when he tried to cheat me at sabacc." Blowing several rings of smoke above his head, Berhanu grinned. "Felt terrible about it the next morning, so I had him fixed up so he could stay on as my silent business partner. See, I don't generally like being overruled by anyone, and no one's seen fit to relieve Geimann of his office. Unless, you'd like the position. Won't win the race for you, but I could sure use an independent thinker in this outfit."

"I'll notify my sponsor." Ferdusi's cold gaze fell on Suhailya. "And I'll be certain to give your regards to your family, Twi'lek."

"Not if you can't get off the planet. Boys, seems we have a bounty hunter in our midst who didn't pay the hazardous materials fee for entering our airspace."

"I'm not carry any hazardous materials," Ferdusi protested.

"You are the hazardous material." Berhanu flicked the ashes of of cigar at Ferdusi. "Boys, take load of bantha poodu down to my accountant to pay the toll. Be quick about it. He's stinking up the place."

Within seconds, the bounty hunter was beaten senseless, stunned, and dragged from the sanctuary. Nothing more than a blood trail was left as evidence of his presence.

"Now," Berhanu said, "back to business." He cleared his throat, pulling two silver credit chits from his breast pocket. "Took the liberty of splitting the purse 50/50. Should be more than enough to payoff your father's marker and give you and your family a clean slate with plenty to spare for a new life."

"How—"

"Told you, it's my business to know things. Make sure you show that giant slug the seal on the side." Berhanu pointed to the etching of a Black Bha'lir, a large black tiger straddling a worm that resembled a Hutt. "He'll know better than to renege on a verbal contract. If he tries anything, Jabba knows I'll pour a garbage scow of salt on his tail." Berhanu took a long drag on his cigar, savoring the spice flavor.

"Thank you," Suhailya whispered. She took Drake by the shoulders and planted a warm kiss on his cheek. "Thank you." She put the chit in his hand and curled his fingers around it and then tousled his first mate's mane. "Nik—" was all she could manage to say before tears drowned out her voice.

"Speaking of work," Berhanu mused aloud. "Wasn't lying when I said I could use someone with independent smarts in my outfit."

Taking a long, hard look at the remains of the Geimann, Drake shook his head and flashed his best smile. "Thanks, but no thanks." Tucking the credit chit in his pocket, he put his arm around Suhailya's shoulders. "Besides, I've already got a job and important cargo waiting at the destination. Doaba o'val tru. Clear skies, Uncle Berhanu."

"Can't argue with that, kid." The smuggler spread his arms in surrender. "Clear skies."