“Honey, I’m home!” Ducking under the doorpost as he was forced to do, Hart Aris lumbered into his home with an icebox under his arm. He threw his rawhide jacket onto a nearby sofa; the Alderaan sun beamed into the house from several wide windows, and it was far too warm for the jacket he had brought to work that morning. Scratching the dark beard resting beneath his chin, Hart walked into the kitchen to see his wife and young daughter. “Daddy!” his daughter shouted. “I didn’t even hear you come in, dear,” his wife admitted. “You’re home early.” “The fish?” “Indeed. I’m certainly not complaining.”