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going around in circles or other random patterns to make

it seem that way. Memah didn't seriously believe that,

though. The Empire might be willing to expend drive fuel and pilot pay to confuse high-ranking officials or important civilian clients, but a tavern keeper, a bouncer,

a gamer, and a "dancer"? She doubted it.

And when all was said and done, it didn't really matter, did it? She was going somewhere, and when she got there, she'd be running a new place and getting paid pretty well for it. Things could be worse. Things could be-and had been-a lot worse. At least no one was likely to burn down a tavern run by the Empire.



Darth Vader emerged from his hyperbaric chamber, refreshed insofar as the word had meaning for him. He had been thinking about the incidents that had impeded construction of the battle station, and they seemed to him to be ill formed and poorly operated. This surprised him somewhat, as he considered the Alliance more of a threat than even the Emperor did. That said, he knew that the Rebel network, like any large group, mostly comprised those who were at best adequate to the jobs with which they had been tasked. There were always a few who were adept, even brilliant, of course, and Vader was sure there were those among the Rebels who qualified for that