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strange, metallic sigh issued from just inside the door to the opulent quarters, making both men turn. Leebo stood behind them, looking somehow bereft; an attitude communicated almost entirely by posture, as of course the droid’s facial features were immobile.
    “What’s wrong with you?” Dash asked him.
    “Like you care. So engrossed in your silly sentient squabbles while I stand here doing everything. I mean, really,
you
two may have jobs, but me? I might as well be turned off and used as a clothes rack.”
    “There’s a thought,” said Dash. “What do you want me to do?”
    Leebo’s head came up with a faint squeak. “Introduce me to the ship’s engineer. Tell him what a genius I am. That you’d never be able to keep the
Outrider
in trim without me, that—”
    “Excuse me,” Dash said, interrupting the droid’s recitation. “Okay, point one: I’d never be able to keep the
Outrider
in trim without you? I hate to spoil this droid fever-dream you’re having, boyo, but I kept the
Outrider
shipshape long before you came on the scene. And point two: may I remind you where the
Outrider
is at this moment? Hardly great advertising for your genius.”
    “That,” said Leebo, drawing himself to his full height, “was not my fault.”
    “Are you saying it was
mine
?”
    “
I
wasn’t the one who piloted the ship into an ambush then tried to get out of it by sideswiping a singularity … or three.”
    “Now, that just hurts. Look, you whiny bucket of bolts—”
    “Do you realize that you’re arguing with a mechanism?” Eaden said.
    Eaden’s question, mildly asked, brought swift embarrassment. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. I oughta just turn him off.”
    “Hey!”
    “When he might actually be useful?” Eaden asked. “Unwise. At the very least, he’s another pair of eyes—metaphorically speaking. And he doesn’t need to sleep.”
    Dash grinned. “Night watch, huh? Good idea.” He turned back to Leebo. “Looks like you’ll earn your keep after all.”
    “I’m ecstatic with relief.”
    The door chimed just then and, to Dash’s affirmative, slid open to reveal Kendara Farlion. She’d removed her pinwheel lenses to reveal deep violet eyes that exactly matched her sequined eyebrows. “You know, I can hear you arguing all the way out in the hall. And this ship is pretty well insulated. You sure you can all work together?”
    “We’re fine,” said Dash. “Just fine.”
    “Glad to hear it. Ready for a tour of the ship?”
    “More than ready,” Dash said, and followed her from the cabin.

SIX
    D ASH WAS PREPARED TO BE DISAPPOINTED IN, EVEN DISPARAGING of, the
Nova’s Heart
. It was, after all, not a
working
vessel. It was a yacht, which in Dash’s mind translated to toy. But five minutes after the tour began, he was grudgingly willing to admit that the ship was pretty well put together, and ten minutes in he’d decided that
Nova’s Heart
was a stunning piece of craftswork. He kept that assessment to himself, however.
    Every angle was precise and smooth, every curve delighted the eye, every joint was flush. The interior was a tasteful combination of brushed durasteel and fabrics that emulated the metal’s satiny sheen. He’d been aboard Lando Calrissian’s
Lady Luck
—a PLY-3000—and had been amused at the way the gambler had hidden the secret muscles of the craft beneath layer upon layer of opulent, even gaudy, luxury appointments.
Nova’s Heart
was a different sort of creature. Her trim, muscular, graceful frame was draped only lightly with opulence. She was, in a word, a lady: sleek, feline, and—though not afraid of showing off her strength—unmistakably feminine. Definitely not the transportation equivalent of an odalisque.
    Dash gave the quarters and living areas of the ship only the most cursory examination. It was the working decks, engineering, and the bridge that fascinated him. He assumed these also interested Eaden, but really, who knew?
    In engineering, Dash slowed