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officer ordered. “And give me your identichip.”
    The Arcona reached for a pocket as though to obey, then fluttered his fingers in the agents’ direction. “I’m not Corellian,” he said. “I don’t need an identichip.”
    “He’s not Corellian,” the subordinate said.
    “He doesn’t need an identichip,” the officer added.
    Leia’s jaw was already hanging open, but Han was not so easily impressed.
    “Cute trick. Now move along—and take your buddies.” He jerked his thumb at the two CorSec agents. “We’re not taking riders.”
    The Arcona showed a row of crooked fangs in what was probably a smile. “I’m willing to earn my keep, Captain.” He glanced in Leia’s direction, then his tabard fluttered open to show her the lightsaber hanging on his belt, and she felt something warm slither over her in the Force. “I’m a first-class YT-1300 copilot. Have one of my own, if I can ever get back to the blasted thing.”
    “Han.” Leia grabbed her husband’s arm. “I think—”
    Han pulled away. “In a minute.” He continued to glare at the Arcona. “I don’t care if you fly Star Destroyers, you’re not getting on my ship.”
    “Han!” Leia snapped. “Yes, he is.”
    Han started to argue, then seemed to see something in Leia’s eyes that made him think better of it. “He is?”
    Thankful she could still reach him, Leia nodded. “I think you should give him a chance,” she said. “I’m certainly not going to be much of a copilot.”
    The fact of the matter was that C-3PO, still hiding aboard the
Falcon
, could help with most of the copilot’s chores, but Han seemed to realize Leia was trying to tell him something else. He turned to the Arcona and studied him from top to bottom, contemplating his ashen complexion, threadbare clothes, and listing features.
    “Well, you look like a pilot,” Han said. “What’s the sequence for an emergency ion drive engagement?”
    “Warm circuits, actuate, power up,” the Arcona answered.
    Han raised his brow. “Emergency shutdown?”
    “Power down,
then
disengage.”
    “And where’s the vortex stabilizer found?”
    The Arcona’s flat head folded slightly inward at the center, then he raised his three-fingered hand and said, “You already know where the vortex stabilizer—”
    Han slapped the hand down. “Don’t try that stuff with me. Who do you think you’re dealing with?”
    The Arcona shrugged, then complained, “How should I knowwhere the vortex stabilizer is? That’s not a crew-serviceable part.”
    Han actually smiled, then slapped the Arcona on the shoulder. “You’ll do.”
    “Thanks, Captain.” The Arcona did not seem all that relieved. He pushed between the CorSec agents toward the portable bacta tank. “I’ll take it from here, fellas.”
    The officer stepped aside, but the subordinate stood fast. “Our orders are to load the patient ourselves.”
    “That was before we had help,” Leia said. “And your orders were to see us off. No one said anything about snooping around on the
Falcon
.”
    She cast a pointed glare at the pocket containing her datapad. The subordinate’s face turned bright red, and he stepped aside so quickly he nearly fell.
    “Hmmm.” The Arcona smiled and, out of the corner of his tilted mouth, whispered, “Interesting technique.”
    He retrieved the repulsor gurney, then the agents returned Han’s blaster, and the group boarded together. C-3PO was waiting for them atop the ramp.
    “Oh, thank the maker you’re back!” he said, arms pumping madly. “I can’t tell you how many times I was forced to lower the retractable blaster—”
    “Not now, Threepio,” Han said, brushing past and starting for the cockpit. “Secure yourself for launch.”
    “But Captain Solo, you and Princess Leia have been all over the newsvids. They’re saying you killed three people, and quite a few of the commentators seem to think there should be some sort of legal inquiry—”
    “See-Threepio, we know,”