Star Wars - When the Domino Falls by Patricia A. Jackson Page A

tighter than a Coynite chastity belt!” he whispered, cautiously observing the stormtroopers “That’s why they need a smuggler and a good one.” Kaine recognized the explosion escalating in the old man’s eyes. “Ancher, I don’t need your permission to make this run!”
    “You don’t need my permission?” Ancher’s face flushed several shades of crimson. “What about those money-hungry sector officials? The ones who claim the rights to Thrugii, the asteroid belt, and even the open spaces in between. What about them. Kaine?” The Corellian propped his hands on his hip, visibly shaken by the Socorran pirate’s tenacity. “Even Abdi-Badawzi …”
    “Let’s leave Abdi out of this, shall we?” Kaine frowned with mention of his arch-rival, the Twi’lek crimelord who ran Socorro’s illicit underground. “Besides, he’s too busy filling his own pockets to bother with exploiting a humanitarian cause.”
    “Listen to me, Kaine!” Ancher snapped. “You’re ruffling the wrong tail feathers this time. Those private owners have money, political leverage, mercenaries; they might even have Imperial connections. You don’t want this one, boy.” Suddenly, his face softened as he attempted to change his approach. “You’ve got a good heart, Kaine. You’re a better man than me to even think about this run. But you better think long and hard about the folks you’re crossing and what you stand to lose.” Gently, he ran his fingers through Drake’s hair, clucking the anxious boy beneath the chin. “Swallow your pride. Loyalty is the worst vice a smuggler can fall into.”
    Cradling Drake against him, Kaine whispered evenly. “Maybe Corellians think that way, but Socorran integrity goes too deep for that garbage. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” He hesitated, stumbling over the insult. “It’s just an excuse for not getting involved, and why? Because there’s no money in it!”
    “Drake, scratch a little gravel,” Ancher growled, his eyes intent on Kaine’s face.
    Wanting nothing more than to stay between them, Drake hesitated. His father smiled, soothing reassurance into his rigid shoulders. “How’s your Wookiee?” he asked.
    Startled by the question, Drake stammered, “My Wookiee?”
    “There’s a problem over by the guard house. Go see if you can help them out,” he whispered, pushing Drake away. “Ask for Seth.”
    As he moved away, Drake glared at Ancher holding the Corellian solely responsible for the tension threatening to divide his loyalties. “Go on,” Kaine persisted.
    Reluctant to leave either of them, even the cantankerous Ancher, Drake walked toward the port entrance. “Are you so eager to make your fortune?” he heard Ancher hiss with venom. “What about the boy?”
    “Drake understands,” Kaine retorted, “just like his mother.”
    “That little girl twisted you up good, didn’t she?” Ancher barked. “She didn’t make her final jump soon enough to please me!”
    “You don’t mean that.”
    “Damn right I mean it!”
    “Watch your mouth, old man!” Kaine sputtered, fists balled against violence. “If you hadn’t tampered with the hyperdrive …”
    “I told you that drive was unreliable! How was I supposed to know she’d birth the boy right there on the deck plates! I didn’t tell her to get on that ship with you. She knew the risks and the consequences!”
    From a distance, Drake watched them arguing. Since early childhood, he had lived aboard ship with his father, flying the trade routes and learning the dangerous thrill of smuggling. When not accompanying his father, the young Socorran had spent his free time in strategic mental games with Ancher, plotting Kessel runs and cheating smalltime ganglords. He knew each man intimately, familiar with their moods and eccentricities.
    There had been other explosive quarrels between his father and the overly protective Corellian that were tantamount to similar arguments between Kaine and Drake. But none had