It has come to my attention that I had the wrong Horn as being adopted. In the spirit of the Pro-fic books, I will now fix this 'error', which was not truly an error on my part at all, but an intentional part of the plot. This statement is The Truth From a Certain Point of View.

Epilogue to the Epilogue

Captain Ozzel hurried down the steps of the trendy bar in a tourist section of Coruscant. He grinned and waved at the patrons as he took his regular seat. "Hello, Narhm," he called over to the Besalisk sitting a few feet away and nursing a beer in each of his four hands. "How are things with you today?"

"Same old, same old," the gruff being replied. "So much beer to drink, too few hands to hold it."

"Ah," Ozzel said, nodding in understanding. "Give me a beer, Z'Arla."

"Say 'please', and I won't dump it on your head," the harried Twi'lik replied as she shook her head.

"I'm not one of your ten kids, Z'Arla. I shouldn't have to say please."

"Neither do they, and I won't give them a beer, either."

Disgusted, Ozzel yelled over to the bar's owner. "Cam! Tell Z'Arla to stop being rude to your customers."

Sitting in a corner booth was Cam, the bar's human male owner, and a former star smashball player. He looked up in annoyance from his make-out session with a blonde woman. "Put your attitude away, and serve the Imperial man a beer, Z'Arla."

The Twi'lik glared as she slammed the mug down on the counter in front of Ozzel. "There. Are you happy?"

Ozzel took the foamy beverage and gave it a long swig, shutting his eyes. "Ahhh. That's much better." He opened his eyes and looked at the waitress. "Oh, by the way, Z'Arla, please thank your eldest son for me. My Superior really appreciated that fast information he asked me to find out about Horn.'

The waitress shifted on her feet, and coughed. "Oh, yeah. About that."

The Imperial Captain looked up, alarmed. "What about it?"

"It might not have been completely accurate."

"What wasn't accurate?"

"Well, my boy Jez told me he found out later that Horn's age wasn't quite right," the waitress said.

"Oh. That's not so bad. I suppose it was a year or two off?"

"Or twenty or thirty…"


Z'Arla shrugged. "My kids aren't the brightest Twi'liks in the galaxy, Ozzel. In that way, they're a lot like you, actually."

"Was the rest of the information right?"

"Hmm," Z'Arla said, thinking. "Horn …CorSec officer. Adopted…. First name .. Hal…"

"HAL?" Ozzel yelled. "No! NO! The name was CORRAN Horn, not HAL!"

Narhm snorted in laughter. "That's close."

"You promised me that information was accurate!" Ozzel told Z'Arla, shaking in fear.

"I've been married five times," she replied, unconcerned. "What do I know about keeping promises?"

"What am I going to do?"

"If I were you, I wouldn't do anything," Narhm said.

"You never do anything, other than sit on that barstool and drink all day," Ozzel pointed out.

"True. And it's never gotten me in trouble, either."

"Look, Ozzel," Z'Arla said, patting the worried Imperial on the back. "So it was the wrong Horn. Does it really matter?"

"Probably not," Ozzel conceded as he drank down the mug of beer. "After I have a few more of these," he said, pointing at the empty glass, "it won't matter at all."

"That's my kind of attitude," Narhm stated, downing his own glasses of alcohol.

(and that's how Tarkin got the information he passed on to Palpatine...)