Timothy Zahn - Scoundrels - Star Wars

Star Wars: Scoundrels is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously.

Copyright 2013 by Lucasfilm Ltd. & or where indicated.
All Rights Reserved. Used Under Authorization.
Excerpt from Star Wars: Crucible copyright 2013 by Lucasfilm Ltd. & or where indicated. All Rights Reserved. Used Under Authorization. Excerpt from Star Wars: Dawn of the Jedi: Into the Void copyright 2013 by Lucasfilm Ltd. & or where indicated. All rights reserved. Used Under Authorization.

Published in the United States by Del Rey, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

D EL R EY is a registered trademark and the Del Rey colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.

This book contains excerpts from Star Wars: Crucible by Troy Denning and Star Wars: Dawn of the Jedi: Into the Void by Tim Lebbon. These excerpts have been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.

eISBN: 978-0-345-53657-0

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Jacket art: Paul Youll
Jacket design: Scott Biel

v3.1

Han Solo; smuggler (human male)

Chewbacca; smuggler (Wookiee male)

Lando Calrissian; gambler (human male)

Bink Kitik; ghost thief (human female)

Tavia Kitik; electronics expert, ghost thief assistant (human female) Dozer Creed; ship thief (human male)

Zerba Cherdak; pickpocket, sleight-of-hand expert (Balosar male)

Winter; living recording rod (human female)

Rachele Ree; acquisitions, intel (human female)

Kell Tainer; explosives, droid expert (human male)

Eanjer Kunarazti; robbery victim, funding (human male)

Avrak Villachor; Black Sun sector chief (human male)

Qazadi; Black Sun vigo (Falleen male)

Dayja; Imperial Intelligence agent (human male)

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.

T he starlines collapsed into stars, and the Imperial Star Destroyer Dominator had arrived. Standing on the command walkway, his hands clasped stiffly behind his back, Captain Worhven glared at the misty planet floating in the blackness directly ahead and wondered what in blazes he and his ship were doing here.

For these were not good times. The Emperors sudden dissolution of the Imperial Senate had sent dangerous swells of uncertainty throughout the galaxy, which played into the hands of radical groups like the so-called Rebel Alliance. At the same time, criminal organizations like Black Sun and the Hutt syndicates openly flaunted the law, buying and selling spice, stolen merchandise, and local and regional officials alike.

Even worse, Palpatines brand-new toy, the weapon that was supposed to finally convince both insurgents and lawbreakers that the Empire was deadly serious about taking them down, had inexplicably been destroyed at Yavin. Worhven still hadnt heard an official explanation for that incident.

Evil times indeed. And evil times called for a strong and massive response. The minute the word came in from Yavin, Imperial Center should have ordered a full Fleet deployment, concentrating its efforts on the most important, the most insubordinate, and the most jittery systems. It was the classic response to crisis, a method that dated back thousands of years, and by all rights and logic the Dominator should have been at the forefront of any such deployment.

Instead, Worhven and his ship had been pressed into mule cart duty.

AhCaptain, a cheery voice boomed behind him.

Worhven took a deep, calming breath. Lord dAshewl, he replied, making sure to keep his back to the other while he forced his expression into something more politically proper for the occasion.

It was well hed started rearranging his face when he did. Barely five seconds later dAshewl came to a stop beside him, right up at his side instead of stopping the two steps back that Worhven demanded of even senior officers until he gestured them forward.

But that was hardly a surprise. What would a fat, stupid, accidentally rich member of Imperial Centers upper court know of ships protocol?

A rhetorical question. The answer, of course, was nothing.

But if dAshewl didnt understand basic courtesy, Worhven did. And he would treat his guest with the proper respect. Even if it killed him. My lord, he said politely, turning to face the other. I trust you slept well.

I did, dAshewl said, his eyes on the planet ahead. So thats Wukkar out there, is it?

Yes, my lord, Worhven said, resisting the urge to wonder aloud if dAshewl thought the Dominator might have somehow drifted off course during ships night. As per your orders.

Yes, yes, of course, dAshewl said, craning his neck a little. Its just so hard to tell from this distance. Most worlds out there look distressingly alike.

Yes, my lord, Worhven repeated, again resisting the words that so badly wanted to come out. That was the kind of comment made only by the inexperienced or blatantly stupid. With dAshewl, it was probably a toss-up.

But if you say its Wukkar, then I believe it, dAshewl continued. Have you compiled the list of incoming yachts that I asked for?

Worhven suppressed a sigh. Not just mule cart duty, but handmaiden duty as well. The comm officer has it, he said, turning his head and gesturing toward the starboard crew pit. Out of the corner of his eye he saw now that he and dAshewl werent alone: dAshewls young manservant, Dayja, had accompanied his superior and was standing a respectful half dozen steps back along the walkway.

At least one of the pair knew something about proper protocol.

Excellent, excellent, dAshewl said, rubbing his hands together. Theres a wager afoot, Captain, as to which of our group will arrive first and which will arrive last. Thanks to you and your magnificent ship, I stand to win a great deal of money.

Worhven felt his lip twist. A ludicrous and pointless wager, to match the