Han Solo Book 2

The Hutt Gambit

Han Solo, former Imperial officer, sat despondently at a sticky table in a dingy bar on Devaron, sipping an infe-rior Alderaanian ale and wishing he were alone. Not that he minded the other denizens of the bar horned Devish males and furry Devish females, plus a smattering of nonhumans from other worlds. Han was used to aliens; hed grown up with them aboard Trader Luck, a large trading ship that wandered the spacelanes of the galaxy. By the time he was ten, Han had been able to speak and un-derstand half a dozen nonhuman languages.

No, it wasnt the aliens around him. It was the alien beside him. Han took a swig of his ale, grimaced at the sour taste, then glanced sidelong at the cause of all his troubles. The huge, hairy being gazed back at him with concerned blue eyes. Han sighed heavily. If onhj hed go home! But the Wookiee---Chew-something-utterly refused to go home to Kashyyyk, despite Hans repeated urging. The alien claimed he owed something called a life debt to former Imperial Lieutenant Han Solo. Life debt . . . great. Just what I need, Han thought bit-terly. A big furry nursemaid trailing after me, giving me advice, fussing over me if I drink too much, telling me he gonna take care of me. Great. Just great. Han scowled into his ale, and the pale, watery brew reflected his countenance back at him, distorting his fea-tures until he appeared nearly as alien as the Wookiee. What was his name? Chew-something. The Wookiee had told him, but Han wasnt good at pronouncing Wookiee, even though he understood it perfectly.

Besides, he didnt want to learn this particular Wookiees name. If he learned his name, hed likely never get rid of his hairy shadow.

Hah rubbed a hand over his face blearily, feeling several days stubble. Ever since hed been kicked out of the ser-vice, he kept forgetting to shave. When hed been a cadet, then a junior lieutenant, then a full lieutenant, hed been meticulous with his grooming, the way an officer and a gentleman should be . . . but now . . . what difference did it make?

Han raised his glass in a slightly unsteady hand and gulped the sour ale. He put the empty tankard down, and glanced around the bar for the server. Need another drink. One more, and Ill feel much better. Just one more . . .

The Wookiee moaned quietly. Hans scowl deepened. Keep your opinions to yourself, hairball, he snarled. Ill know when Ive had enough. Th las thing I need is a Wookiee playin nursemaid for me. The Wookiee-Chewbacca, that was it-growled softly, his blue eyes shadowed with concern. Hans lip curled. Im perfectly capable of lookin after myself, and dont you forget it. Just cause I saved your furry butt from being vaporized doesnt mean you owe me a thing. I tol you before-I owed a Wookiee, long ago. Owed her my life, coupla times over. So I saved you, cause I owed her. Chewbacca made a sound halfway between a moan and a snarl. Han shook his head. No, that means you dont owe me a thing, dont you get it? I owed her, but I couldnt repay her. So I helped you out, which makes us even . . . square. So will you please take those credits I gave you, and go back to Kashyyyk? You aint doin me any favors staying here, hairball. I need you like I need a blaster burn on my butt.

Affronted, Chewbacca drew himself up to his full Wookiee height. He growled low in his throat. Yeah, I know I tossed away my career and my livin that day on Coruscant when I stopped Commander Nyklas from shootin you. I hate slavery, and watchin Nyklas use a force whip aint a particularly appetizing sight. I know Wookiees, you see. When I was growin up, a Wookiee was my best friend. I knew you were gonna turn on Nyklas before you did it-just like I knew Nyklas would go for his blaster. I couldnt just stand there and watch him blast you. But dont go tryin to make me out as some kinda hero, Chewie. I dont need a partner, and I dont want a friend. My name says it all, pal. Solo. Han jerked a thumb at his chest. Solo. In my language, that means me, alone, by myself. Get it? Thats the way it is, and thats the way I like it. So . . . no offense, Chewie, but why dont you just scram. As in, go away. Perma-nently.

Chewie stared at Han for a long moment, then he snorted disdainfully, turned, and strode out of the bar. Hah wondered disinterestedly if hed actually managed to convince the big hairy oaf to leave for good. If he had, that was reason for celebration. For another drink . . .

As he glanced around the bar, he saw that over in the corner several patrons were gathering around a table. A sabacx game was forming. Han wondered whether he ought to try to get in on it. Mentally he reviewed the con-tents of his credit pouch, and decided that might not be a bad idea. He usually had very good luck at sabace, and every credit counted, these days. These days . . . Han sighed. How long had it been since that fateful day when hed been sent to assist Commander Nyklas with the crew of Wookiee laborers assigned to complete a new wing on the Imperial Hall of Heroes? He counted, grimacing as he realized that hed lost days on end in there . . . days probably spent in a dark haze of ale and bitter recrimina-tion. In two days it would be two months. Hans mouth tightened and he ran an unsteady hand through his unruly brown hair. For the past five years hed kept it cut short in approved military fashion, but now it was growing out, getting almost shaggy. He had a sudden, sharp mental image of himself as hed been then-immacu-lately groomed, insignia polished, boots shining-and glanced down at himself.

What a contrast between then and now. He was wearing a stained, grayish shirt that had Once been white, a stained, gray neo-leather jacket hed purchased secondhand, and dark blue military-style trousers with his Corellian blood-stripe running down the outside seam. Only the boots were the same. They were custom-fitted when each cadet was commissioned, so the Empire hadnt wanted them back. Han had been commissioned just a little over eight months ago, and no junior lieutenant had ever been prouder of his rank-or of those shining boots.

The boots were scuffed now, and worn. Hans lip curled as he regarded them. Scuffed and worn by life, all the spit and polish gone . . . that about described him these days, tOO. In a moment of painful honesty, Han admitted that he probably wouldnt have been able to stay in the Imperial Navy even if he hadnt gotten himself cashiered for rescu-ing and freeing Chewbacca. Hed started his career with high hopes, but disillusionment had quickly set in. The prejudice against nonhumans had been hard to take for someone raised the way Han had been, but hed bitten his tongue and remained silent. But the endless, silly bureau-cratic regs, the blind stupidity of so many of the officersHah had already begun to wonder how long hed be able to take it. But hed never figured on a dishonorable discharge, loss of pension and back pay, and worst of all-being black-listed as a pilot. They hadnt taken his license, but Han had quickly discovered that no legitimate company would hire him. Hed tramped the permacrete of Coruscant for weeks, in between alcoholic binges, looking for work and found all respectable doors closed to him. Then, one night, as hed taveru-hopped in a section of the planet-wide city near the alien ghetto, a huge, furred shadow had flowed out of the deeper shadows of an alley and confronted Han. For long moments Hans ale-fogged brain hadnt even recognized the Wookiee as the one hed saved. It was only when Chewbacca began speaking, thanking Han for saving his life and freeing him from slavery, that Han had realized who he was. Chewie had been quite direct his people didnt mince words. He, Chewbacca, had sworn a life debt to Han Solo. Where Han went, from that day forward, he would go, too.

And he had.

When Han had finally gotten them passage off Corus-cant, piloting a ship with a load of contraband to Tralus (the cargo had been magnetically sealed into the hold-Han hadnt had the equipment or the energy to break in and find out exactly what it was he was smuggling), Chewbacca had gone with him. On the week-long voyage, Han began teaching the Wookiee the rudiments of piloting. Space travel was boring, and at least that gave him something to do besides brood over lost futures . . . Once on Tralus, he turned over his ship and cargo, then went looking for another assignment. He wound up at Truthful Toryls Used Spaceship lt, asking the Duros for work. Toryl was an old acquaintance, and he knew Hah was a reliable and expert pilot.

The Empire was tightening its grip all the time, taking away the rights of its worlds as well as its citizens. Duro had a shipbuilding industry nearly equal to that of CoreIlia, but they had recently been prohibited by Imperial direetive from placing weapons systems in their ships. Hans clandes-tine cargo proved to be a shipment of components useful in outfitting ships with weapons.

By the time they reached Duro, Chewie was becoming a fair copilot and gunner. Han hoped that teaching the Wookiee these skills would make it easier to get rid of him on some world. If he knew the Wookiee could hire on as a skilled pilot or copilot, he wouldnt hesitate to dump him in some port and then lift ship-or so Han told himself.

Once on Duro, Han drank up some of the profits from his mission, while waiting to be contacted for another pilot-ing job. His patience was rewarded one day when a Sullus-tan approached him and offered him good pay to take a ship from Duro, avoiding any Imperial ports of call, a third of the way across the galaxy to Kothlis, a Bothan colony wodd.

Of course the sleek, swift little craft was hot-stolen from some wealthy owners landing pad. Han had to re-mind himself that he was no longer in the business of keep-ing the law he was in the busine ss of breaking it.

So he set his jaw and piloted the stolen vessel to her new home on Kothlis. Then he went looking for another assign-ment, and eventually found one. On the surface, this job seemed legit. Hah was to ferry a large halargon from Koth-lis to Devaron.

Han had never heard of a nalargon before, which wasnt surprising, as his exposure to music had been limited. A nalargon proved to be a very large instrument that was operated by a keyboard and foot pedals. Pipes and sub-harmonic resonance generators produced sound on many wave bands. The instruments were in demand for the jizz craze that was sweeping the galaxy. Accordingly, the huge instrument was brought aboard the ship Han had been assigned, bolted to the deck, then left sealed in the cargo compartment.

Han investigated the instrument once he and Chewie were safely in hyperspace. He tapped it, poked and nudged it, turned it on, then tried pressing the keys and pedals. No sound, except the sound he made trying to make it work.

But his tappings proved it wasnt hollow. Han sat back on his heels, gazing at the huge instrument. The thing was obviously a dummy-a shell, with something inside. What?

Han knew from his stint in the Imperial Navy that Devaron was a world in turmoil. Not long ago a group of rebels had risen against the Imperial governor, demanding independence from the Empire. Hans lip curled disdain-fully. Stupid fools, thinking they had a chance against the Empire. Seven hundred of the rebels had been captured when the ancient holy city of Montellian Serat had been overrun by Imperial troops a few months ago. Theyd been summarily executed without trial, killed without mercy. The remaining rebels were still hiding out in the hills, hold-ing out, attacking commando fashion, but Han knew it was only a matter of time before they, too, would be ground beneath Palpatines heel, their world rigidly controlled by the Empire, as so many other worlds had been.

Eyeing the nalargon, Hah made some mental calcula-tions based on the instrument being hollow. Yeah . .

. a short-bore mobile laser cannon would just about fit inside that shell. The weapon could be mounted on the back of a landskimmer, and was capable of blowing small targets-a building, or a short-range Imperial fighter-into very small pieces.

It could also be blast rifles, of course. Ten or fifteen would fit inside there, if they were cleverly packed. Whatever was inside the nalargon, Han had a bad feel-ing about the assignment hed taken on. He resolved to land the ship, then walk away from it and not go back. He had fake landing codes, provided by the Bothans. Hed use them, and then get away as quickly as he could . . . Hed landed yesterday, and for all Han knew, the ship was still sitting on the field with the nalargon in her cargo hold. But he had a hunch that the rebels on Devaron hadnt wasted any time . . . Han shook his head a little blearily, half wishing he hadnt had that last ale. The sour taste was still in his mouth, and his head bused. Han looked from side to side, testingly, and the room stayed still. Good. He wasnt too drunk to play sabacc and win. Let get on with it, Solo. Every little credit helps . . . The smuggler rose to his feet and strolled quite steadily across the room to the table. Greetings, gentles, he said, in Basic. Got room for another player?

The dealer, a Devaronian male, turned his head with its waxed, polished horus to regard Hah questioningly. He must have decided that the newcomer looked okay, be-cause he shrugged and gestured at the vacant seat. Wel-come, Pilot. As long as your credits hold out, so does your welcome. He grinned, showing sharp, feral teeth. Han nodded, then slid into the seat. Hed first learned to play sabacc when he was about fourteen. Han anted credits into the high-stakes pot, the sabacc pot, then picked up the two cards hed been dealt and scanned them, all the while covertly studying his oppo-nents. When the bet for the hand pot came round to him, he tossed the requisite number of credit disks into that pot, too.

Han had the six of staves and the Queen of Air and Darkness, but at any moment the dealer could push a but-ton, and all the card-values would change. Han eyed his opponents a tiny Sullustan, a furry Devaronian female, the Devaronian male dealer, and a huge female Barabel, a rep-tiloid being from Barab One. This was the first time Han had seen a Barabel up close, and she was an impressive sight. Over two meters tall, covered with tough black scales that would repel even a stun blast, the Barabel had a mouthful of daggedike teeth and a clublike tail that report-edly made them nasty customers in a fight. This one, who had introduced herself as Shallamar, seemed peaceful enough, though. She picked up the newest card-chip shed been dealt and studied her hand intently through narrowed slit-pupiled eyes. The object of sabacc was to get cards to equal, but not exceed, the number twenty-three-either positive or nega-tive. In case of a tie, positive totals beat negatives.

At the moment the cards in Hans hand had a numerical value of positive four. The Queen of Air and Darkness had a value of minus two. Han could throw that card into the interference field, which would freeze its value, then hope to get the Idiot and a card with the face value of three. Since the Idiot had a value of zero, this would give him an Idiots Array, which would beat even a pure sabacc . . . that is, cards whose value added up to either positive or negative twenty-three. As Han hesitated, gazing at his Queen, the card-chips rippled and altered. His Queen was now the Master of sabers. The six of sabers had become the eight of flasks. His total was . . . positive twenty-two. He waited while the other players examined their card-chips. The Barabel, the female Devaronian, and the dealer threw in their hands disgustedly-theyd bombed out by exceeding twenty-three.

The Sullustan raised the bet, which Han matched and raised. I call, the little alien said, laying down his card-chips with a flourish. Twenty, he announced.

Han grinned and put down his own. Twenty-two, he announced casually, laying down his own hand. Afraid that hand pots mine, pal.

The other players grumbled a bit as he scooped up their money. The Barabel female hissed and gave him a look that could have melted titanium, but said nothing.

The Sullustan took the next hand, and the Devaronian dealer the one that followed. Hah eyed the growing sabacc pot, and decided to try to go for the bigger payoff. They continued to play for several more hands. Han won the hand pot again, but nobody had gotten the sabacc pot. Han tossed the three of coins and the Idiot into the inter-ference field, and his luck held the very next change of cards left him holding the two of flasks.

Idiots Array . . . Han said casually, tossing the two down next to the other two cards in the interference field. The sabacc pot is mine, ladies and gentlemen . . .

He bent forward to scoop up the pot, and the Barabel female let out a roar. Cheater! Hes got a skifter, he must have! No one can be so lucky!

Hah sat back and stared at her, outraged. He had cheated at sabacc plenty of times, using skifters-cards that would assume different values when their edges were tapped and in other ways. But this time hed won fair and square!

You can take your accusations and stick em in your ear! the Corellian burst out indignantly. Of course the Barabel didnt have any visible ears, but his meaning wasnt lost on her. Dropping his right hand down to his thigh, he silently unsnapped the strap on the top of his holster. Shak-ing his head vehemently, he added, I wasnt cheating! You were just outplayed, sister!

Left-handed, Han reached across the table, grabbed a fistful of credits, and stuffed them into his pocket. Nobody moved or spoke, so he reached for the remaining handful. In a blur of reddish fur, the Devaronian females hand shot out, grabbed his wrist, and pinned it to the table. Maybe Shallamar is right, she said, in strongly accented Basic. We should search him to make sure. Han glared at her. Take your hands off me, he said very quietly. Or Ill make you really sorry. Something in his eyes and voice must have impressed her, because she let go of him and stepped back. Coward! Shallamar snarled at the Devaronian. Hes just a puny human!

The Devaronian shook her head and backed away, indi-cating that she wanted no further part in the conflict.

Han smiled smugly as he reached for the last of the card-chips. Seeing that smile, the Barabel roared again. One armored, sharp-taloned hand came sweeping down in a mighty blow that smashed the table in two, sending board, credits, and card-chips flying. Shading, she ad-vanced on Han. No! Im going to bite your head off, cheater! Well see how good you are then !

Han took one look at her gaping maw, realizing that she was big enough to make good on her threat, and went for his blaster. His right hand dropped to his thigh with blur-ring speed, then the well-worn grip was there, nestled against his palm.

His hand, still moving with extraordinary speed, started back up as he began his draw----only to stop short when the blaster hung up in the holster!

Han had barely a second to realize that the blasters front sight, mounted on the end of the barrel, was caught at the bottom of his holster. He tugged, trying to free his weapon. The Barabel leaped for him. Han jumped back, but not

far enough. Shallamars huge, sharp talons grabbed the

front of his jacket, slashing the tough material as though it

were tissue. Still yanking at his trapped blaster, Han was

hauled toward the Barabels wide-open mouth so fast his

vision blurred. He let out a choked gasp as a blast of hot,

reeking reptiloid breath engulfed him.

Suddenly Han glimpsed a blur of brownish tan at the comer of his vision, just as a huge roar nearly deafened him. A long, furred arm snaked around Shallamars neck, jerking her back, away from Han. Chewie! Hah yelled. Hed never been so glad to see someone in his life. The Barabel roared hack at the Wookiee, dropping the Corellian as she swung around to grapple with her attacker.

Hold her for a second, Chewie! Han yelled, yanking at the bottom of his holster as he twisted the grip of his blaster. At last! He pulled it up and sighted at the Barabel as she wrestled with the Wookiee, but he couldnt get a dear shot.

The two huge beings, snarling and hissing, rampaged across the room, knocking over tables and chairs. The other sabacc players and denizens of the bar scattered before the fray, screaming advice and curses in multiple languages. The Sullustan sabacc player dropped his hand to his own blaster, but when he saw that Han was now armed, he turned and flung himself behind the bar. Shallamar and Chewbacca swayed back and forth, locked in a grim parody of a loving embrace, each testing the others strength, trying to get each other off balance. Chewie, cmon! Hah yelled. Lets get outta here!

Chewbacca and Shallamar whirled in a blur of brown fur and black scales, then Shallamar lowered her head and snapped at the Wookiees arm. Her needle-sharp teeth sheared off a chunk of fur and meat. The Wookiee roared in agony and, with a burst of strength, grabbed the Barabels arm and slung her around with dizzying speed, so fast that her feet slid out from under her. As she went down, Chewie also grabbed her tail, swinging her so hard she was airborne.

With a final howl of triumph, CheWbaca released his grip and sent the huge reptiloid flying across the room, while sentients scattered to avoid her trajectory. Shallamar landed on her back amid a ruin of chairs, tables, and sabacc card-chips.

Stun wont work, dont want to kiU-a jumble of thoughts raced through Hans mind as he thumbed the setting on the blaster, aimed, and fired at the dazed Shal-lamar, hitting her at half force just below one huge knee joint. She hissed in pain and sagged back, black scales smoking and steaming. Chewie, cmon! Han yelled, snapping off a stun shot at the sabacc dealer, who was aiming a blaster at the Wookiee. The Devaronian went down without a sound. Chewie, drip-ping blood, was right behind Han as they raced for the exit, knocking over chairs and tables.

The tavems owner, a Devaronian female, blocked his way, screaming curses and threats, but Hah slapped her aside with the barrel of his blaster and kept running. He slammed the door with his shoulder, then bounced off. Locked!

Swearing in six nonhuman languages, Hall thumbed the indicator on his weapon up to its highest power, and blasted the door. The proprietor howled in protest, but tile Corellian and the Wookiee were already gone.

Hah and Chewbacca pelted down the squalid alley, then swung out onto the street with its rustic-looking buildings made of blue native wood and stuccoed permacrete. A chilly breeze made the Corellian shiver. It was early spring here on Devarons souill polar continent.

Hah quickly holstered his blaster as he dropped his pace to a fast walk. Hows the arm, pal? Chewie groaned, ending in a shad. Han glanced down at the damage. Well, it was your choice to come back, he pointed out. Not that Im sorry you did, mind you. I . . . I want to say . . . uh . . . thanks for saving my rear.

The Wookiee made an interrogatory sound. Han shrugged. Well, sure, I guess . . . he mumbled. Ive never had a partner before, but . . . yeah, why not? It can get kinda boring on long space flights without someone to talk to, I guess.

Chewie rumbled with satisfaction, despite his pain. Dont push your luck, Han said dryly. Listen, we got to get that arm seen to. Theres a med droids clinic across the street. Lets go. An hour later the two were back on the street. Chewies arm, after a bacta treatment, was sheathed in a protective bandage, but the med droid had assured them that Wookiees were quick healers. The Wookiee had just finished commenting that he was hungry, when Hah heard a soft call from the shelter of a nearby doorway. Pilot Solo . . .

Han stopped in his tracks and looked over to find a Duros male beckoning to him. He glanced from side to side, but the Devaronian street scene was quiet and peace-ful. This section near the town square was reserved for pedestrian traffic. Yeah? he replied, in a low voice.

The blue-skinned Duros motioned for Han to follow him into a nearby alley. The Corellian walked to the mouth, turned the corner, then stood with his back against the wall, hand on the grip of his blaster. Okay, this is as far as I go without knowing what you want.

The Duros mournful expression lengthened even far-ther. You are not a trusting sentient, Pilot Solo. I was referred to you by a mutual friend, Truthful Tory[ He said you are an excellent pilot. Han relaxed slightly, but didnt take his hand off his gun. Im good, all right, he said. If Truthful Toryl sent you . . . prove it.

The Duros gazed straight at him with calm, moonstone-colored eyes. He said I was to tell you that the Talisman you brought him is no more.

Han relaxed and took his hand off his weapon. Okay, youve convinced me he sent you, he said. State your business.

I need a ship delivered to Nar Hekka, in the Hutt sys-tem, the Duros said. I am willing to pay well . . . but, Pilot Solo, you must not allow Imperials to board her should you run into any patrols. Han sighed. More intrigues. But the Duross offer inter-ested him. Hed been planning all along to eventually make his way to Nar Shaddaa, the Smugglers Moon that or-bited Nal Hutta. Now would be as good a time as any. From Nar Hekka, he could easily catch a ship to Nal Hutta or Nar Shaddaa. Tell me more, he said.

Only if you can raise ship within two hours, the Duros said. If not, tell me, and I will look elsewhere for a pilot.

Han considered for a moment. Well... I could maybe change my plans . . . for the right price. The Duros named a figure, then added, And the same sum upon delivery. Hah snorted, then shook his head, though inwardly he was surprised at how high the initial bid was. Cmon, Chewie, he said, weve got places to go, people to see. Too quickly, the Duros named another, higher sum. This guy must really be desperate, Han thought as he pretended to hesitate for a beat. He shook his head. I dunno . . . its not worth my butt if the Imperials are lookin for this ship of yours. Whats she carrying?

The Duross expression did not change. That I cannot tell you. But I will tell you that if you deliver the ship and its contents safely to Tagta the Hutt, he will be pleased, and pleasing a Hutt Lord is generally considered to he a good thing for ones financial well-being. Tagta is Jiliac the Hutts highest-ranking subordinate on Nar Hekka.

Hans ears pricked up. Jiliac the Hutt was a very high-ranking Hutt Lord indeed. Maybe this Tagta would give him a recommendation to the boss . . .

Hmmmmmmmm . . . Han scratched his head, then named a sum. And all in advance, he added. The Duross pale blue skin seemed to grow even paler, but then he nodded. Very well as to tile sum, but half up front. You will receive the rest from Tagta, Pilot Solo.

Hah considered, then nodded. Okay, youve got your-self a deal. Chewie-he turned to address the Wookiee, who was hovering nearby, listening intently-go on back to that lockbox where we left our stuff and get it, will you, while I conclude my business with our friend here? The Wookiee rumbled a soft assent.

Thanks. Ill meet you on the north side of the town square in an hour, okay? Chewbacca nodded and moved off down the street.

Han walked closer to the Duros, and said, Okay, youve got yourself a pilot. Well raise ship within two hours. Fill me in on the rest of it. Where do I find this Tagta the Hutt? Within minutes Han had all the details. The Duros handed over a sheaf of credit vouchers, gave him the ships security code, and the location of the vessel. Then the blue-skinned alien melted away into the dimness of the alley.

Han had a couple of minutes to kill, so he grabbed a quick bite at the cafe next door. He had to argue with the Devish female chef to get her to cook his meat. But it was worth it. The food drowned the last of the ale-induced muzziness. Clearheaded, his energy renewed, Hah felt con-siderably cheered. On his way to the town square, he stopped off at a secondhand shop that catered to spacers of all species. There he bought a beat-up black lizard-hide jacket to re-place the one the Barabel had shredded. Respectably clothed again, he started up the street toward his rendez-vous with Chewbacca. Hah knew something was up long before he reached the town square. The sound of a huge crowd was unmistakable. They seemed to be shouting in unison. The skin at the back of Hans neck prickled suddenly as he realized that there was something familiar about those words. They werent in Basic, but hed heard those simple, repetitious phrases be-fore.

But where?

Ive got a bad feeling about this . . . he thought, turn-ing the corner and seeing the crowd. They were chanting. Chanting, swaying, rocking with religious fervor. Mostly Devaronians, of course, but there were a smattering of hu-mans and other sentients. Hans gaze raked the crowd, fol-lowing it to the front. A hastily erected dais stood there, and atop it, leading the revival, stood a figure out of Hans past. Oh, no.t he thought. This is a Ylesian revival, and that missionary is Veratil! I cant let him see me!

Five years ago, Han had spent almost six months on the steaming, fungus-infested wodd of Ylesia. Hed been work-ing as a pilot before taking the examinations to get into the Academy, practicing and honing his piloting skills. Ylesia was a world at the edge of Hutt space, whe re a race of beings called the tlanda Til-distant cousins of the Hutts-offered pilgrims supposed religious sanctuary. The tlanda Til sent missionaries to many worlds to preach about the One and the All. Han had known that for years, but hed never been unlucky enough to run into a Ylesian revival before now. For a wild moment the Corellian wanted to draw his blaster, shoot Veratil down, and yell to the assembled crowd of potential pilgrims, Go home! Its all a big fake! They just want you so they can enslave you, you fools! Get out of here!

But how could he make them believe him? To most sentients in the galaxy, Ylesia was perceived as a place of religious retreat, where the faithful gathered, and those wishing to hide from their pasts could find sanctuary.

The fact that the Ylesian sanctuary would turn out to be a trap was known only to the lucky few like Han-whod managed to escape. No doubt Veratil had a transport standing by to load the pilgrims on board. Unfortunate sen-tients who followed him would have no idea that their voy-age to Ylesia would lead only to slavery in the spice factories, then, when they grew too weak or sick to work, theyd face death in the spice mines of Kessel. Ylesia was a golden dream for the faithful, but the reality was a world of bondage and unending toil.

Teroenza, Veratils boss, was the High Priest of Ylesia. Before fleeing the colony, Han had robbed the tlanda Til leader of the most valuable pieces in a rare and extensive collection. Hed left Teroenza wounded, but alive.

Han had escaped Ylesia in Teroenzas personal yacht, the Talisman. Soon after his getaway, Han discovered that the tlanda Til and their Hutt overlords had placed a fat bounty on the head of Vykk Draygo-Hans alias. Han had to change his identity, even his retina/patterns, to es-cape detection and capture.

Now, seeing Veratil, Han ducked his head and turned away, wishing he had a hood he could pull up to hide his face. If the Sacredot saw him and recognized him, Hah knew that he was in for it. The chanting surrounding him intensified. Han began to sweat, despite the chill of the Devaronian weather, because he knew what was coming.

Across the town square, he saw a tall, furred shape standing on the edge of the crowd, watching the ceremony curiously. Chewie! Cant let him get drawn into this/The Exultation is going to come in just a couple of minutes!

Han plunged into the crowd, keeping his head ducked, fighting his way through the throng as he would have clawed his way through a heavy surf. He was breathing hard and his elbows and ribs ached by the time he reached the Wookiee. Chewie! he yelled, grabbing the big sen-tient by the arm. Lets get outta here! This is gonna turn into a mob scene any second now!

The Wookiee whined inquiringly. Never mind how I knowF Han yelled above the chanting. I just know!

Trust me!

Chewbacca nodded and turned away, using his huge size to part the crowd before him. Han started to follow him, then something caught the corner of his eye, and he turned his head. A gleam . . . a gleam of reddish gold on a stray curl.

Hah caught just a glimpse of her, but his whole mind and body jolted to a stop as though hed slammed into a stone wall while running at top speed. Bria? Bria!

He caught only that one brief glimpse of a pale, perfect profile and a stray reddish-blond curl, but it was enough. She was standing there, wearing a black cloak and hood, in this crowd. Memories came surging back, so strong that they scared him . . .

Bria, a pale ghost of a slave in the spice factories of Ylesia. Bria, scared but determined as they robbed Ter-oenza of his treamtres. Bria, sitting beside him on a golden sand beach on Togoria, her mouth soft and red and just begging to be kissed Bria, lying in his arms late at night . . . Bria, who had left him behind, saying she needed to fight her addiction w the tlanda Til Exultation by herself...

Han had spent the past five years convincing himself that hed forgotten her. After four years in the Imperial Academy, plus nearly a year of commissioned service, hed been convinced that he no longer cared. But now, in a single searing blaze of insight, Hah Solo knew hed been lying to himself. Without hesitating, he turned and plunged back into the crowd, heading for the woman in the black cloak. He was halfway there when the Exultation hit the crowd, and the throng of sentients collapsed onto the cobblestones of the town square as though theyd been stun-blasted. Han had forgotten how strong the Exultation was. Waves of intense pleasure rolled through his mind as well as his body. No wonder the Ylesian pilgrims thought the tlanda Til were Divinely Gifted! Even knowing, as Han did, that the Exultation was caused by an empathic trans-mission coupled with a subsonic vibration that caused a wave of pleasure that acted on the brains of most bipedal sentients, Han had to brace himself to resist it.

He knew without seeing it that the pouch beneath Vera-tils chin had swelled, and that the Sacredot was hum-ming those vibrations as he concentrated on warm, positive emotions. To anyone unprepared for the force of the Exultation, the effect was as intoxicating as any pleasure drug. The ability to produce the Exultation was one that all tlanda Til males shared-it was actually a sex-linked bio-logical ability they possessed that, in their natural habitat, was used to attract tlanda Til females. All around Han the crowd had fallen prone, and most of the sentients were writhing in pleasure. The sight sickened Han. Hed shaken off the effects of the Exultation now, and he concentrated on not stepping on bodies as he plunged toward the woman in the black cloak and hood. He could no longer see her face or that betraying tendril of hair.

His fingers remembered the soft silkiness of that hair . . he used to play with Brias curls, watching them cap-ture the light, bringing the reddish gold to vibrant life . . . The woman in the black cloak and hood disappeared behind a stone bench as the crowd heaved in a wave of ecstasy from the Exultation. Han swallowed hard. Bria had left him because she was addicted to the Exultation. Was that where shed been for the past five years? A willing slave on Ylesia, bound to her tlanda Til masters because she needed her daily dose of pleasure? Funny . . . hed thought Bria had more strength than that . . .

Han reached the stone bench, then stopped, staring around him. The woman in the black cloak was nowhere in sight. Whered she go? Bria/ Han thought, staring around him wildly. Froin all sides he could hear the gasps and moans of the crowd filling the air.

He jumped up on the bench, straining his eyes, trying to pick up and, trace of the woman in the black cloak. Han only realized what a terrible mistake hed made when he found himself staring across the crowd, straight into the eyes of Veratil.

The huge, four-legged creature with the tiny arms and the broad, single-horned head was staring back at him, his small, reddish eyes wide with surprise.

The Corellian had no doubt that Veratil had just recog-nized him as Vykk Draygo, the man whod wrecked the glitterstim factory, stolen Teroenzas treasure, and caused the death of the Ylesian Hutt overlord, Zavval.

All around Hah the moans of pleasure suddenly altered into cries of dismay and loss Veratils attention had been diverted, and the Exultation had come to an abrupt, jarring halt. Some of the throng wailed aloud, others jerked convul-sively. Still others dragged themselves to their feet with cries of distress and anger. Han ducked his head and bolted forward, determined to lose himself in the crowd And then, ahead of him, he caught a glimpse of black. Bria!

Forgetting Veratil, forgetting the danger he was in, Han plunged forward, slamming into would-be pilgrims, trip-ping over feet, elbowing his fellow sentients aside. Bria! he yelled. Stop!

Putting on a burst of speed, Han reached the edge of the crowd. The woman was running now, but Han was moving at top speed and he caught her in a dozen swift strides. Reaching out, he managed to grab the black fabric, yank her to a halt, then he grabbed her elbow and spun her around to face himonly to find that the woman hed chased was a tota] stranger How could he have mistaken her for Bria? This woman wasnt homely, she was even pretty in a rather worn way . . but Bria-Bria had been one of the loveliest women Hah had ever seen. This womans hair was dark blond, not gold with warm reddish highlights.

Bria had been tall. This woman was short.

She was also angry. What do you think youre doing? she demanded in Basic. Leave me alone or Ill summon security!

I . . . Im sorry . . . Hah mumbled, stepped back, holding up both hands in as nonthreatening a manner as he could manage. I thought you were someone else.

Well, I feel sorry for her, the woman said huffily.

With an ill-mannered, scruffy tout like ycm in her life!

Look . . . Han continued to back away, hands up. I said I was sorry, sister. Im going, okay? I think youd better, she said pointedly. That priest has summoned security, I think. Hah looked over his shoulder, cursed, then took to his heels, heading away from the crowd. He could see Chewbacca waiting for him, and waved to the Wookiee.

He lengthened his stride, and a glance back at his pursu-ers reassured him that he was losing them. Been drinking too much . . . he decided as he ran. Thats gotta be it. Im gonna be rrure careful from now on . . a lot more carefid . . .

Did Han get away? Bria Tharen asked her friend as Lanah Malo walked into the room, carrying Brias black cloak under her arm. Bria was seated on the single human-styled chair in the cheap room theyd rented for their short stay on Devaron.

I think so, Lanah Malo replied, tossing the cloak to her friend, then picking up her travel bag and dumping it o n the bed. The last I saw, he and that big Wookiee he was traveling with jumped into a public skimmer. Security was still on foot. My guess is, he made it. Hes probably off-world by now, Bria said softly, wist-fully. Rising, she walked over to the window, then stood for a moment gazing up into Devarons c)ral-tinted sky. Tears gathered in her blue-green eyes. I never thought Id ever see him again. I never thought it would hurt so much . . . The pain she felt completely eclipsed the triumph she should have been experiencing. Today shed faced the Ex-ultation and successfully resisted it. After years of fighting her addiction to it, now she finally knew for certain that she was a free woman. Shed looked forward to this day for a long time-but any joy she felt was drowned in her grief at seeing Hah again, and knowing she couldnt be with him. Couldnt you have talked to him? the shorter woman asked, almost echoing Brias own thoughts. Bria turned from the window and watched her friend and comrade-in-arms pulling on her battered, khaki-colored jacket. Quickly Lanah stuffed the last of her personal belongings into the small travel bag. What harm could it do? she asked, giv-ing Bria a sharp, quizzical glance. Bria shivered, then pulled the cloak around her shoul-ders. It was chilly, now that the sun was low on the horizon. No, she said in a low voice. I couldnt talk to him.

Why not? Lanah asked. Dont you trust him? Moving as methodically and carefully as a droid, Bria checked the charge in the blaster she wore strapped to her thigh-low-down the way Han had taught her, five years ago when theyd been partners, companions . . . lovers. Yes, she said, after a moment. I trust him. I trust him with anything thats mine. But what were trying to accom-plish thats not mine. Thats all of us. Betrayal at this point could mean the end of the entire movement. I couldnt risk it. Lanah nodded. Solo showing up when he did sure messed up our plans, she said. No telling when well get a clear shot at Veratil again. My guess is that hell hightail it back to Ylesia to tell Teroenza he spotted your ex-boy-friend.

Bria nodded tiredly as she ran her hands through her hair. Hah loved to do that, she thought with a sudden surge of memorY so vivid that it felt like a blow. Oh, Hah . . . Lanah Malo gave her an assessing glance that was half sympathetic, half cynical. You can fall apart later, Bria. Right now weve got to catch the transport back to CoreIlia. The Commanders going to expect a full report. Even if we failed to take out Veratil, we still succeeded in making con-tact with the Devaronian group . . . so the trip wasnt a total waste.

Im not going to fall apart, Bria said dully, holstering her blaster without looking at it-the way Hah had taught her. I got over Han long ago.

Sure you did, Lanah agreed, not unkindly, as the two women picked up their bags and headed for the door. Sure you did . . .

Han Solo shuffled into the tiny control room of the Duro-sian ship, cradling a mug of stim-tea. He glanced at the viewscreen, which showed the comforting starline pat-terns of hyperspace, then blinked blearily over at the big Wookiee who lounged in the copilots seat. I overslept, he said accusingly. You didnt call me.

Chewbacea made a short comment Well, yeah, I prob-ably did need the rest, Han admitted. But youre the one who got wounded. Hows the arm?

The Wookiee reassured Han that it was healing just fine. The Corellian glanced at the wound, and nodded, then he sank into the pilots seat. Good. Let me tell you, pal, its fortunate that you showed up when you did, yesterday. That Barabel wasnt messing around. Things could have gotten sticky. Chewie pointed out, truthfully, that things had gotten sticky. Hah shrugged. Youre right. And that reminds me of something. Getting up from his seat, he went over to the toolbox that was standard issue on every ship, and came back with a tiny lasertorch and a microfile. Tang his blaster out of the holster, he carefully sliced off the sight at the end of the barrel, then began smoothing the spot. Chewbacca wondered aloud what Han was doing. Fix-ing my weapon so it wont ever hang up in my holster again, the Corellian explained. That was a bad couple of seconds in that tavern, there, when I couldnt draw. Im a good shot losing the sight wont affect my aim.

Chewie watched as Han worked. After a moment the human spoke again. Bad enough that I couldnt draw. If it had been a blaster shoot-out, instead of a slugfest, I dont think either of us would have made it out of there alive. But I guess it could have been worse. We were actually in more danger at that Ylesian revival. If Veratils security people had grabbed us . .. believe me, pal, those tlanda Til dont mess around. If theyd caught us, wed be in deep humbaba manure, my friend.

Chexvie made an interrogatory sound. Yeah, I guess I do owe you an explanation about that, Han said with a sigh. Ysee, about five years ago I needed experience pilot-ing big ships, cause I was hoping to get into the Academy. So I took a job piloting for the tlanda Til on Ylesia. Ever hear of it before? Chewie whined, low in his throat. You got it. The pil-grim colony. Cept that it aint, pal. Its nothin but a big scam, a major trap. The Hutts control the place. Pilgrims travel there hoping to join with the cosmic All, or some such, but they turn em into slaves and make them work in the spice factories. Most of the poor fools dont last long. They had three colonies on Ylesia when I was there, but I heard theyve expanded to five or six, now. Chewbacca shook his head sadly.

Han grimaced as he sighted down the barrel of his blaster. Somebody ought to go in there and shut those creeps down, Chewie. Ive been a thief, a smuggler, a con man, a gambler, and some other things I aint particularly proud of, pal . . . but slavery-I cant stand it. Or slavers, either. Scum of the universe. For two credits, Id blast em all into oblivion . . .

Chewbacca, naturally, voiced vehement support for Hans opinion. The Corellian grinned crookedly as he ran his thumb over the now-smooth barrel tip. Satisfied, he replaced the weapon in his holster. Yeah, well, I kinda forgot who I was talkin to. But anyhow, its a long story. The end result was, I decided I had to get outta there, so I stole a bunch of stuff from the High Priest. He had a great collection of art objects, jeweled weapons, stuff like that. Only trouble was, Teroenza and his Hutt boss, Zavval, showed up at a real inopportune time. The shooting started, and Zavval died.

Chewbacca made an interrogatory sound.

Han sighed. No, I didnt shoot him. But you could sorta say it was my fault that he bought it. Chewie commented that from what he knew of Hutts, the fewer the better. Yeah, Ive thought that myself, Han said. But we may wind up workin for a Hutt, so youd better keep your opinion to yourself, pal. He sipped his stim-tea and looked out at the racing star patterns for a long second, lost in memories. So, anyhow, I got away. But I wish Veratil hadnt gotten a look at me yesterday. I got a bad feelin about that. The tlanda Til can be pretty nasty . . .

Chewie asked a question. Han looked down and cleared his throat. Whyd I go back into the crowd and give Veratil the chance to see me? Well, pal... there was this girl... The Wookiee grunted a phrase. Translated, it meant, Why am I not surprised? Well, this one was ... special, Hah said, feeling rather defensive. Bria Tharen. Yesterday, in that crowd, I thought . . . He shrugged, his eyes shadowed. I thought I saw her. I coulda sworn that was her, standing there in the crowd. Five years ago, we were . . . friends. Close friends. Chewbacca nodded. After only a month with Han Solo, the Wookiee was perfectly aware that human females al-most invariably found the Corellian attractive.

Hah shrugged again. But my eyes were playing tricks on me. When I finally caught up to her, she wasnt Bria. It was really aw-He cleared his throat self-consciously. Uh, that is . . . I was sort of disappointed. I really hoped Id found her again. He took another gulp of the cooling tea. I dreamed about Bria last night, he muttered, almost to himself. I was wearing my uniform, and she was smiling at me . . . Chewbacca made a sympathetic sound. Han looked up at the Wookiee. But, hey, Brias part of the past. I gotta look ahead. What about you, pal? You got a girlfriend?

The Wookiee hesitated. Hah grinned knowingly. Some-one special? Or someone youd like to be special?

Chewie fiddled with the STABILIZER CONTROl. button. Careful, dont push that, Han said. Okay, you dont have to tell me. But hey . . . I told you. If were gonna be partners, doesnt that mean we oughta trnst each other?

His hairy companion mulled that over for a moment. Finally he nodded, and began talking, slowly at first, then with increasing confidence. There was a young Wookiee female, Mallatobuck, that Chewie found attractive. She had come around several times to help care for elderly mem-bers of Chewies arboreal community on Kashyyyk, and had helped Chewbacca care for his father, Attichitcuk, an aged and rather irascible Wookiee.

So, you like her, Han said. Does she like you? Chewbacca wasnt sure. Theyd never spent much time alone together. But there was a warmth in her blue eyes that he remembered . . . So, how long has it been since youve seen her? Han persisted.

Chewie thought for a moment, then growled a reply.

Fifty years Han yelped. He knew Wookiees lived many times longer than humans, but still . . . He took another swallow. Hey, pal . . . I hate to tell you. Mallatobuck might be married with six little Wooks by now. You sure ask a lot, wanting a girl to wait for you that long. Chewbaeca agreed that perhaps he should return to Kashyyyk and reestablish contact as soon as possible.

Tell you what, Han said. When weve gotten our own ship, bought and paid for, Kashyyyk will be our first stop, okay?

The big Wookiee roared an enthusiastic agreement. Han glanced over at him, and found himself thinking that it was nice to have someone to talk to during voyages. Space travel, once you made the jump to hyperspace, could be pretty dull.

I saw that package you brought aboard, he said, changing the subject. What did you buy? Chewbacca fetched the bundle, and returned to the co-pilots seat. He opened the parcel. Inside was a jumble of various lengths of metal and wood, plus a handgrip and a powerful-looking spring attachment. Han eyed the assortment, puzzled. Whats that?

The Wookiee grunted a reply. Its going to be a bow-caster, Han repeated. Well, good luck puttin it together. That spring is so strong that no human would be able to draw a weapon like that. Chewie agreed and, taking out the toolbox, began put-ting his new bowcaster together. You a good shot? Han asked.

Chewbacca modestly allowed that among his people he was considered quite a marksman. Good, Han said. Were headin for Nar Shaddaa, so well need to cover each others back. Its a moon that orbits the Hutt planet, Nal Hutta. You ever hear of it? Chewie hadnt.

Well, Ive never been there, but from what Ive heard, it can be a little rough. Even the Empire doesnt mess with Nar Shaddaa. If youre hot, or you want to make some kinda deal that the authorities would frown on-you go to Nar Shaddaa. Its that kinda place.

Han began checking the controls, making sure every-thing was shipshape. Not much longer before they emerged into realspace, not far from Nar Hekka. Chewbacca watched him with bright blue eyes, then asked a quiet question.

Hah glanced up. I did try to find Bria, he admitted after a long moment. At first I was mad at her, for leaving me, but hey . . . she was going through a lot. A couple of years ago, while I was on leave from the Academy, I looked up her dad, Renn Tharen. He said he hadnt heard from her in a year. He had no idea where she was. Han sighed.

I liked her dad. The rest of her family was a pain in the

butt, but I liked Renn. He helped me out when I was in a

spot. Most of my first six months paychecks when I was

commissioned went to pay him back some money hed

loaned me. He wasThe ships hyperspace alarm sounded. Coming out of hyperspace, Han said, his hands flying over the controls. Next stop, Nar Hekka. Weve got to find us a Hutt Lord named Tagta, pal. After landing the Duross ship at the spaceport the alien had specified, Han and Chewbacca gathered up their scanty belongings and left it behind, under no illusions that it would be there when they got back. Together, they boarded a public tube-speeder that would take them into the city where Tagta the Hurt held court.

Hah had been to Nal Hutta, and found it an unpleasant world . . . damp, slimy, and smelly-rather like the Hutts themselves. Hed braced himself to endure more of the same on Nar Hekka, but he was pleasantly surprised. The planet was a cold world that orbited a dim red star on the edge of the YToub system, but Hutt credits and colo-nies of various galactic species had transformed it into a technological wonder. Beneath enormous hothouse domes, the skies shone blue with a faint tinge of violet. Although the planet had little indigenous plant life, vegetation from many worlds had been transplanted and carefully culti-vated. There were numerous parks, botanical gardens, and arboretums. Everywhere Hah and Chewie looked, beds of flowering plants boasted large, lovely blooms of differing hues. Once in the city, Han and the big Wookiee walked along enjoying file sights. Artificial convection currents wafted soft breezes that caressed their faces. Being outside on a balmy day was a wonderful change of pace from being cooped up in a cramped spaceship, Hah said, and Chew-bacca agreed with a throaty growl.

All too soon, it seemed, they approached an imposing white stone edifice that theyd been told marked the home and business center of Tagta the Hutt. Even though Tagta worked for Jiliac, he was still a prominent and wealthy Hutt Lord in his own right.

They walked up the ramp (Hutt designs did not utilize stairs, for obvious reasons) and then paused outside the huge doorway, large enough to admit even a corpulent Hutt on an anti-grav sled. The majordomo was a diminutive Sullustan female. Her jowls quivered as Han introduced himself and requested an audience with Lord Tagta.

The Sullustan left, ostensibly to check out their bonafides, and returned a few minutes later. Lord Tagta will see you. He asks me to ask you whether you have eaten? He is partaking of the noonday meal. Han was hungry, and he suspected Chewie was, too, but the thought of eating with a Hutt was not appetizing. Hutt body odor was strong enough to turn a sensitive humans stomach. We just finished, Han lied. But we thank Lord Tagta very much for his graciousness in inquiring. After several more minutes, the two smugglers, escorted by three liveried Gamorrean guards, were ushered into the Hutts private dining chamber. The room boasted high, vaulted ceilings that reminded Han of cathedrals hed seen. A large, floor-to-ceiling window allowed reddish sunlight to flood in, making the white walls appear faintly rosy. Their host was reclining (Hutt anatomy didnt permit sitting, after .all) before a table, sampling various dishes.

Hah took one glance at the wriggling, squirming fare that comprised the noontime repast, and averted his eyes. He didnt allow his squeamishness to show, however, as he and Chewbacca approached the Hutt Lord.

Hah had learned Huttese while on Ylesia, and under-stood it well. He couldnt speak it, though, because the language depended on subharmonics for subtle nuances in meaning, and the human throat was not constructed to pro-duce those sounds. He wondered whether he and the Hurt Lord would need an interpreter droid. He glanced around, but didnt see one.

Tagta was reclining on a hovering anti-gray sled, but Hah got the impression that the Hutt could move around if he wished. Some Hutts, he knew, grew so corpulent that they c, uld no longer glide about under their own power, but Tagta didnt seem either that old or that fat.

Still, watching the Hutt delicately select yet another wriggler from a glass aquarium filled with viscous fluid and stuff it into his mouth, Hah figured that Tagta would proba-bly make it to tile fully corpulent stage of Hutt life. Green drool gathered at the corners of Tagtas mouth as he rolled the live treat around in his mouth before, finally, swallowing it.

Hah forced himself not to look away.

Finally, after several more minutes of gluttony, Tagtas hunger seemed to be abating. He looked up at his visitors and said, in Huttese, Does either of you comprehend the spoken communication of the only truly civilized beings?

Knowing that Tagta meant Huttese, Hah nodded and said, in Basic, Yes, Lord Tagta, I understand it. I cannot speak it well, though.

The Hutt waved a plump little hand and blinked his bulbous eyes in surprise. That is much to your credit, then, Captain Solo. I understand your primitive Basic, so we will not require an interpreter to converse. He waved at the Wookiee. And your companion?

My friend and first mate does not speak the language of your exalted people, Lord Tagta, Hah said. He hated hav-ing to stick flattery into each sentence, but he was highly motivated to stay on this Hutts good side. When dealing with Hutts, that was generally the best policy-and Han didnt forget that he wanted this particular Hutt to do him a favor.

Very well, Captain Solo, Tagta said. Have you brought my ship, as you were hired to do? Yes I have, Your Excellency, Han replied. It is docked in berth number thirty-eight, Starport Complex Q-7. Nar Hekka boasted a huge starport, since it was the main crossroads of trade into and out of the Hurt systems.

Excellent, Captain, Tagta said. You have done well.

He waved a dismissal. You have our leave to go.

Hah didnt budge. Uh, Lord Tagta, I am still owed half my payment.

Tagta reared back slightly in surprise. What? You came expecting payment from me? Hah took a deep breath. One part of him wanted to just beat a quick retreat. Angering a powerful Hutt Lord proba-bly wasnt worth it. But he held his ground, forcing himself to remain outwardly calm. He had a feeling he was being tested. Yes, Your Excellency, I was promised the second half of the payment when I successfully delivered the ship to Nar Hekka having managed to avoid any Imperial ves-sels that might be interested in the ship . . . or its cargo. I was told that you would furnish the other half of my pay-ment when I saw you.

Tagta huffed indignantly. How dare you imply that I would make such a ridiculous bargain? Leave me immedi-ately, human!

Han was getting mad now. Crossing his arms on his chest, he planted his feet and shook his head. No way, Your Excellency. I know what I was promised. Pay up. You dare to demand payment of me? When it comes to credits, I dare quite a lot of things, Han said imperturbably. Hrrrrrmmmmmph! Tagta was full of disdain. This is your last chance, Corellian, he warned. Leave, or I will summon my guards!

You think me and Chewie cant handle a bunch of Gamorreans? Han said scornfully. Think again? Tagta gazed at the Corellian balefully, but did not sum-mon the guards. Listen, Your Excellency, you want me to tell every other pilot I meet that Tagta the Hutt welshes on his debts? Han added with a curl of his lip. Youll have a tough time gettin anyone to work for you, when Fm fin-ished.

The Hutt Ird rumbled deep in his chest, a sort of hrrrrrmmmmmmmmpppppphhhhhhh! sound that made Hans mouth go dry. Ha d he pushed his luck too far?

Seconds ticked by in Hans head as he waited, forcing himself to remain immobile and silent. Then Tagta actually chuckled, a deep but unmistakable sound. Captain Solo, you are a brave sentient indeed! I admire courageF He fumbled amid the welter of items scattered among the squirming foodstuffs, and tossed Han a pouch. There, I believe the amount is correct. The old villain] Hah thought half admiringly. He had it ready all the time/He WAS just testing me . . . With the realization came a surge of confidence. Han bowed. Please accept our thanks, lord Tagta. And I wish to ask a favor, Your Excellency . . .

A favor? the Hutt boomed, blinking his bulbous eyes rapidly. You are indeed a bold sentient! What is this favor?

I understand that you know Lord Jiliac, sir?

The huge, slit-pupiled eyes blinked again. Yes, I do business with Jiliac. We belong to the same clan. What of it?

Well, I hear that theres work for good pilots to be had on Nar Shaddaa. And that Lord Jiliac owns or controls a lot of the Smugglers Moon. Im a good pilot, sir, I really am. If you could, Id appreciate a recommendation to Lord Jiliac. Chewie and I would like to work for him. Ahhhhh . . . The deep voice boomed in the massive chest. I see. What shall I tell my clan lord? Shall I tell him that you are brazen and greedy, Captain Solo?

Han grinned, suddenly daring. He was learning that Hutts had a sense of humor-twisted, but definitely a sense of humor. If you think it would help, lord Tagta.

Ho-HO! the Hutt leader boomed a mighty shout of laughter. Well, let me tell you, Captain Solo, there are not many humans with the intelligence to claim those qualities as virtues. But among my people-they are, indeed, ster-ling attributes.

As you Say, sir, murmured tlan, not quite sure what to reply to this. The Hurt lord bellowed, Scribe! in Huttese, and a bipedal droid came scuttling from behind the drapes in the cavernous room. Yes, Your Impressiveness?

Tagta waved a hand at the droid and gave it an order in Huttese so rapid that Hah had trouble following it. Some-thing about seals and messages.

Moments later the droid reappeared with a small, palm-sized holocube. After handing it to the Hurt, it stood back respectfully. Tagta took the little holocube, perused the message it contained, and grunted with satisfaction. Then, quite deliberately, the Hutt licked one side of it, leaving a green smear. After holding the cube for a moment, Tagta activated the side of it, and a clear film slid down to cover the green-ish smear. Here, Captain Solo, the Hutt said, handing Han the holocube. By this lord Jiliac will know that I sent you. He is indeed in need of good pilots. Work hard for him, and you will be rewarded. We Hutts are known for our generosity and beneficence to lower life-forms who serve us ably. Han took the cube rather gingerly, but it was no longer wet. He looked at the greenish smear, realizing that Jiliac would be able to do a sensor analysis and verify that the holocube had indeed come from his relative. Clever, even if it is disgusting, he thought.

He bowed deeply, and nudged Chewbacca, who also bowed. Thank you, Your Excellency!

Then, clutching his holocube, Han left the Hutt overlord behind. As they were walking down the ramp outside the Hutt mansion, Han insisted on divvying up the credits from the voyage. Just in case one of us gets robbed, he ex-plained, to quiet Chewbaccas protests. That way one of us is sure to have some money.

Once back out on the street, Han suggested that they get some food before heading to the shuttleport to catch the next ship for Nat Shaddaa. Stopping by a fiower-sellers booth, Han asked the proprietor, a spindly humanoid with long, wiry whiskers and tufted ears, whether there was a good restaurant in the vicinity. The sentient directed him to the Starfarer Diner, a few blocks away. They were halfway there, strolling casually and chatting, when Han suddenly stopped in midsentence and swung around, alarmed-and not even sure why. Out of the cor-ner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a pale-skinned hu-manoid with two long fleshy tails instead of hair. The Twilek was just stepping out of a doorway behind him. There was a drawn blatster in his hand. As Han turned, the Twilek shouted, in accented but understandable Basic, Halt, both of you, or I shoot you now!

Hah knew instinctively that if he obeyed the command to stop, hed wind up dead, sooner or later. He didnt hesi-tate for even a second. With an earsplitting yell, the Corel-lian threw himself to the side, hit the ground, rolled, and came up on one knee, blaster in hand.

The Twileks weapon spat a blue-green burst. Han dodged.

Stun blast/

Han aimed, fired, and the reddish beam struck his at-tacker mid-torso. He went down, dead or incapacitated.

The Corellian made sure the Twilek wasnt getting up anytime soon, then he turned to look for Chewbacca. The Wookiee was leaning heavily against a parked speeder,

dazed. Hed evidently been grazed by the stun beam. Hah

ran over to him, his heart pounding from the rush of adrenaline. Did he get you bad, palP

With a muffled growl, Chewbacca assured his partner that hed be fine. Han peered up into the Wookiees furry face, saw that his eyes were clear, the pupils even. Only then did he draw a long breath of relief. He hadnt realized until that moment that he was getting used to having the big hairy lug around. If anything had happened to Chewie . . .

Going over to the Twilek, Han knelt down. One glance at the huge blaster wound that had turned the Twileks chest to blackened slag was enough to tell him the being was dead. Han experienced a quick pang-hed killed be-fore, but he didnt like doing it.

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to search the dead sentient. There was a vibroblade strapped to the inside of a sleeve, another on the calf. On the inside of the other wrist the Twilek wore a wrist vac, a device that when triggered would send small, deadly blades flying into an opponents vitals. Shoved into his belt, covered by his tunic, was a sleep-inducer. A short-range weapon, but very effective. The Twilek could have simply walked up behind Han, stuck the sleep-inducer in his back, then pulled the trigger to send the Corellian off to dreamland.

Han stared at the weapon, his mouth dry. A bounty

hunter. Great. Why am I not surprised? This must be Teroenzas doing. Hes found out Im alive, and he wants If not for instinct and fast reflexes, Han knew, at this very moment hed be out cold and on his way back to Ylesia to face a terrible vengeance . . .

He heard Chewbaeea make an anxious sound, glanced up, only to find that the encounter had drawn a crowd.

Abandoning the Twilek where he lay, Han stood up, blaster still ostentatiously held in his right hand. The crowd backed away, muttering. The Corellian moved sideways with a dancers grace, never turning his back on the crowd, until he and Chewbacca were side by side. He knew some-one mustve summoned planetary security, but he also knew that since the Twilek was a bounty hunter, he was more or less outside planetary law. A bounty hunter was presumed able to take care of himself. If the intended prey fought back . . . well, tough luck.

Moving slowly, step by step, Hah and the Wookiee backed away from the crowd until they reached the closest alley. Then, moving like a single entity with one mind, they leaped sideways, and ran. No one followed them.

Teroenza, High Priest and unofficial master of the steamy world of Ylesia, a world that produced drugs and slaves in impressive amounts, lounged in his sling-seat in his sumptuous apartments while his Zisian majordomo, Ganar Tos, massaged his massive shoulders.

The tlanda Til were enormous creatures, standing nearly as tall as a human male on their four tree-trnnklike legs. With their barrel-shaped bodies, tiny arms, and huge heads that somewhat resembled those of their distant cous-ins, the Hutts-except for the enormous horn protruding from the middle of their faces-the tlanda Til considered themselves the handsomest sentients in the galaxy. The vast majority of other sentients would not have agreed with their assessment.

Teroenza raised one of his small, almost dainty forearms, and used his fingers to smooth a soothing oil into his leath-ery skin. He rubbed gently around his bulbous eyes. The sun on Ylesia was frequently sheathed in clouds, but it had enough strength to cause his skin to dry out unless he took care of it. Frequent mud baths helped, as did this expensive emollient. He began rubbing the oil into his horn, remem-bering the last time hed been home, on Nal Hutta. Hed attracted a mate, Tilenrta, and theyd spent hours together, rubbing each other with oils . . .

The High Priest sighed. Doing his duty to his homeworld and the clan of Hutts his family served called for sacrifices. One of them was that only male priests were needed on Ylesia, to provide the Exultation, so no female tlanda Til were here. No mates, no potentid mates . . .

Harder, Ganar Tos, Teroenza murmured, in his own language. I have been working too hard these days. Too much work, too much stress. I must learn to slow down, relax more . . . Teroenza glanced longingly at the huge door in his apartments that led next door, to his treasure collection. The High Priest was an avid collector of the rare, the un-usual, the beautiful. He bought and acquired rarities and art objects from all over the galaxy. His collection was his one pleasure on this steamy, backwater world that was populated mostly by slaves and inferiors. It had taken him nearly four years to restore the collec-tion after that vile, despicable excuse for a sentient, Vykk Draygo, had ransacked the place and stolen many of the rarest and most valuable pieces. Several days ago Teroenza had discovered that Vykk Draygo was still alive. A check of the Devaronian Port Authority records had shown that the Corellian scoundrels real name was Hah Solo. Remembering the terrible night when his collection had been violated, Teroenzas small hands clenched involun-tarily into fists, and his head lowered with the longing to impale a victim on his horn. Ganar Toss fingers dug into suddenly taut clumps of muscle, causing the tlanda Til to wince and curse in his own language. Solo had fired blasters in the treasure room, causing irreparable damage to some of Teroenzas finest pieces. The white jade fountain had been repaired by the best sculptor in the galaxy, but it would never be the same . . .

Teroenza was distracted from his memories when the front door to his apartments opened, and Kibbick the Hutt undulated in. The young Hutt was far from being old or corpulent enough to require an anti-gray sled-he got around fine under his own power, propelling himself for-ward in a series of glides by contracting his powerful lower body and tail muscles.

Teroenza knew he should rise from his lounge-sling, and greet his nominal master with deference, but he didnt. Kibbick was a young Hutt, barely past the age of full Hurt accountability, and he didnt want to be here on Ylesia. He was the nephew of the dead Zavval, Teroenzas former Hutt overseer. Zavvals sibling, the powerful Hutt clan leader, Lord Aruk, was his uncle.

The High Priest raised a hand and nodded politely enough, though. He certainly didnt want to alienate Kib-bick. Greetings, Your Excellency. How are you today?

The young Hutt glided up to the High Priest and then stopped. He was still young enough to be a uniform light tan in color, lacking the greenish pigmentation on the spine and down the tail that older, nonmobile Hutts frequently acquired. Since he was not fat, as Hutts went, Kibbicks eyes were not hidden in leathery folds of skin, but instead protruded slightly, giving him a rather pop-eyed, inquisitive air. Teroenza had good reason to know, however, that that wide-eyed, curious stare was misleading. The nala-tree frogs you promised me, Kibbick began in Huttese. Lacking the huge chest of older Hutts, his words were deep, but not particularly resonant. The ship-ment hasnt arrived, Teroenza! I was particularly looking forward to a repast of nala-tree frogs tonight. He gave a theatrical sigh. There is so little to look forward to on this benighted world! Can you see about it, Teroenza? The High Priest made soothing gestures with his tiny hands. Of course, Your Excellency. You shall have your nala-tree frogs, never fear. I do not relish them myself, but I know that Zavval did. I shall order an expedition of guards to collect some today.

Kibbick relaxed visibly. Thats much better, he said. Oh, and, Teroenza, I require a new bath slave. The old one hurt her back when she was lifting my tail to oil it, and I ordered her back to the factories. Her whimpering was getting on my nerves . . . and I have very delicate nerves, as you know. Yes, Im aware of that, Teroenza said soothingly. In-wardly the High Priest gritted his bite-plates. I have to rennember that Kibbick, although a whining nuisance, al-lows me complete autonomy. If I must have a Hutt over-lord, he is the best choice . . . I shall see to it right away. Privately, Teroenza knew that he could run the Ylesian spice and slave operation with no Hutt involvement. In the year following Zavvals untimely death at the hands of Han Solo, this had become clear to the High Priest. But the Besadii criminal enterprise, the kajidic, was ruled by a pow-erful old Hutt named Aruk, who clung to tradition. If a Besadii undertaking was to prosper, a Hutt from their own kin, the Besadii clan, must be in charge.

Thus, Teroenza found himself saddled with Kibbick. He repressed a sigh. It would not be wise to let his impatience show. Will there be anything else, Your Excellency? he asked, forcing himself to assume a servile, almost obsequi-ous demeanor.

Kibbick thought hard for a moment. Yes, come to think of it. I spoke with Uncle Aruk this morning, and he was checking last weeks accounts. He wanted to know what is this five-thousand-credit bounty youve placed on this hu-man, Hah Solo?

Teroenza rubbed his small, delicate hands together. In-form Lord Aruk that only a few days ago I discovered that Vykk Draygo, Zavvals murderer, whom we had presumed to be dead for the past five years, has resurfaced! His real name is Han Solo, and he was drummed out of the Impe-rial Navy just two months ago. Teroenzas protuberant eyes were suddenly moist and glittering with anticipation. By offering a sizable bounty and specifying no disintegra-tions, that will ensure that theyll bring this Hutt-slaying monster back here to Ylesia, so he may pay for his crimes. I see, Kibbick said. I shall explain that to Aruk, but I dont believe hell go along with paying the extra credits for a no disintegrations bounty. Thats not necessary, under the circumstances, really. Simple proof that its indeed Solos body-genetic material, for example-would suffice, wouldnt it? Teroenza lurched up out of his lounge-sling with an awk-ward, fierce movement. He began to pace his spacious, sumptuous apartment, his long, whippy tail slashing the air. You fail to understand the nature of Solos crime, Your Excellency! If only you had been here, to see what Solo did to your uncle! His death agonies were horrible! His moans! His spasms of agony! And all because of that wretched little human!

The High Priest took a deep breath, realizing he was shaking with anger. An example must be made, an exam-ple that will be remembered down through the ages by anyone of an inferior species who even contemplates harm-ing a Hutt! Solo must die, die in agony, die screaming for mercy!

Teroenza halted in the middle of his room, panting with fury, little hands balled into fists. Ask Ganar Tos!

he cried passionately, knowing he was making a spectacle of himself in front of Kibbick, but unable to stop. Ask him about Solos audacity, his arrogance! He deserves to die, doesnt he? The High Priests voice sealed up toward hysteria. The old Zisian majordomo bowed humbly, but his eyes were also glittering in their rheumy sockets. My master, you speak the truth. Hah Solo deserves only death, as painful and long-lasting a death as you can contrive. He has injured many sentients, including myself. He stole my mate, my bride, my beautiful Bria! I look forward to the day that a bounty hunter drags him into your presence, alive and awaiting your pleasure! I shall dance for joy while he screams!

Kibbick was reared back, upright, staring at the vehe-mence his companions had displayed with some consterna-tion. I . . . see . . . he said, finally. I shall do my best to convince Uncle Aruk. Teroenza nodded, and for once, his gratitude was not feigned. Convince him, please, he said, his voice low and harsh with feeling. I have worked hard for the Besadii clan and their kajidic for almost a decade now. You know, only too well, about the privations of living on this world, Your Excellency. I ask little . .

. but Han Solo-Han Solo, I must have. He will die at my hands, for a long, long time. Kibbick inclined his massive head. Ill explain it to Aruk, he promised. Hah Solo will be yours, High Priest

. . .

Before Han bought passage for himself and Chewbacca to Nar Shaddaa, he spent some time in a seamy section of the Nar Hekka spaceport, busily muddying their trail. A few judicious conversations in a couple of sleazy taverns gave him the name of the best ID forger on the planet. The forger proved to be a Tsyklen from Tsyk, a round, hairless being with taut, pale skin. She was admirably suited for her chosen profession, having large eyes that provided exceptional vision, and seven fingers so slender and delicate that they resembled tentacles. With two opposing thumbs per hand, she could actually manipulate two holo-scribers .at once! Han watched in fascination as she produced an ID naming him as Garris Kyll, and Chewbacca as Arrikabukk. Han had no idea whether Teroenza knew anything about Chewie, but he was taking no chances.

With the forged IDs in their possession, and their store of credits considerably lighter, the two boarded the Stellar Princess for Nar Shaddaa.

The trip was an uneventful one, though Hah couldnt shake his hyper-alertness. Being a hunted man again was something he hadnt wanted to deal with this soon in his new career as a smuggler. The trip took a little more than a standard day, even though Nar Hekka lay barely beyond the edge of the YToub system, because the trip had to be accomplished at sublight speeds. The Princess was an old vessel, and its antique navioomputer wasnt up to calculat-ing hyperspace jumps so close to the gravity wells produced by YToubs star and six planets. Gravity wells, as any pilot knew, made plotting hyperspace jump calculations tricky.

That night, asleep in his narrow bunk aboard the trans-port, Hah dreamed he was a cadet again, back in the Acad-emy on Carida. In his dream, he was hurrying to finish polishing his boots, then he was assembling in formation on the parade ground, his uniform impeccable, every hair in place, boots shining until he could see his face in them.

He stood there, shoulder to shoulder with the other ca-dets, just as he had in real life, looking up at the nighttime sky, seeing the Academys small mascot moon shining amid the stars. He was looking up at it, as hed once done in reality, when suddenly, in eerie silence, it blew apart in a fireball that lit up the night sky. A great cry of amazement and consternation went up from the assembled ranks of cadets. Han stared into file yellow-white fireball, seeing an expanding donut ring of incandescent gas that was accom-panied by chunks of debris flung before it. The cataclysm looked like a miniature exploding star . . . As Cadet Han stared into the fireball, with the sudden unpredictability of dreams, he was somewhere else facing a military tribunal of high-ranking Imperial officers. One of them, Admiral Ozzel, was reading aloud in flat, monoto-nous tones, while a young lieutenant methodically ripped every bit of military rank and insignia off Hans dress uni-form, leaving him standing in a tattered tunic that hung on him in rags. Coldly expressionless, the young lieutenant sol-emnly drew Hans ceremonial officers saber and snapped it over his knee (the blade had already been weakened by a laser score, so it would break easily). Then the lieutenant, still as blank-faced as a droid (though Tedris Bjalin had graduated a year ahead of Han and theyd been good friends), coldly slapped Han across the face, a stinging blow that was meant to express derision and scorn. Finally, as a last ritual gesture of ultimate con-tempt for one in disgrace, Tedris spat, and the glob of his spittle landed on Hans boot. Han stared down at the shin-ing surface, seeing the silver-white thread of saliva crawling toward his toes, marring the shining surface of his right boot . . .

At the time it had actually happened, Han had been vaguely grateful that Tedris hadnt actually spat in his face, as was his right if hed elected to do so. The Corellian had endured it all without expression, steeling himself to show no reaction, but this time, in his dream, he screamed a hot protest NO! and lunged at Tedrisand awoke, sweating and shaking, in his bunk.

Sitting up, he ran unsteady hands through his hair, tell-ing himself it was only a dream-that the humiliation was done, over, that he never had to go through that again. Never again. Han sighed. Hed worked so hard to get into the Acad-emy, so hard to stay there. Despite the lacks in his pre-Academy education (and there had been many) Hah Solo had worked to better himself, to be the very best cadet he could. And hed succeeded. Hans mouth tightened as he remembered commencement day. Hed graduated from the Academy with honors, and that had been one of the best days of his life. Han shook his head. Doesnt do any good tolive in the past, Solo . . . he reminded himself. All of those peopleTedris, Captain Meis, Admiral Ozzel (and what an old fool he was!)--all of his fellow officers were out of his life. Han Solo was a dead man to them, dead and gone. Hed never see Tedris again . . . Han swallowed, and it hurt. When hed entered the Academy hed had such dreams, such hopes for a bright and shining future. Hed wanted to leave the old life of crime behind him, to become respectable. All his life hed nurtured secret dreams of himself as an Imperial officer, esteemed and admired by all. Han knew he was smart, and hed worked hard to make good grades, to fill in the gaps in his education. Hed had visions of himself one day in the uniform of an Imperial admiral, commanding a fleet, or, if hed transferred to commanding a wing of TIE fighters, a general.

General Solo . . .Han sighed. It had a nice ring, but it was time to wake up and face facts. His chance at respect-ability was gone, ended when hed refused to let Chewbacca be blasted in cold blood. He didnt regret his choice, either. During his years in the Academy and in the Imperial forces, hed seen close-up and firsthand the grow-ing calloushess, the cruelty of the Imperial officers and those who served under them.

Nonhumans were their favorite target, but the atrocities were spreading to include humans, these days. The Em-peror seemed to be moving from being a relatively benign dictator to becoming a ruthless tyrant, determined to crush the worlds he ruled into complete subservience. Hah doubted hed have lasted much longer in the Impe-rial Navy anyway. At some point some officer would have ordered him to take part in one of the demonstrations designed to intimidate a dissenting world into submission, and Han would have told him what to do with himself. He knew that he could never have participated in some of the Imperial-ordered massacres hed heard about like the one on Devaron. Seven hundred people dead, mowed down without mercy.

Hah could kill, had done it coolly and without flinching, against armed opponents. But shooting unarmed prisoners? Han shook his head. No. Never. He was better off as a civilian, as a smuggler or thief. He began dressing. First his dark blue military-style trousers, with the broken red Corellian bloodstripe running down the outside seams. When hed been discharged from the service, Han had half expected them to deprive him of his bloodstripe, as theyd done with his other decorations and insignia, but theyd left it. Han guessed that was be-cause the bloodstripe wasnt an Imperial award. It was usu-ally earned through military service, and was a mark of unusual heroism, but it was awarded by the Corellian gov-ernment to a Corellian.

That had been a tough few days, all right, Han thought, remembering exactly how hed earned the decoration. ttis right thumb rubbed the bloodstripe as he pulled his right boot on. The bloodstripe was designed so it could be re-moved and reaffixed to each new pair of trousers. Hah had discovered that most non-Corellians had no idea what a mark of distinction it was-many just thought it was pure decoration.

Which suited Han just fine. He wore it, since it was his only remaining military decoration, but he never discussed where and how hed earned it.

Some things it was better not to dwell on. He finished getting dressed, pulling on a pale gray shirt and a darker gray vest. He hurried, knowing they must be approaching Nar Shaddaa by now. His small travel knapsack slung over his shoulder, Han went out into the corridor and moved toward file observa-tion lounge. This transport hauled both passengers and cargo, so it had few amenities, but it did have a large viewport. Watching the stars was something that amused and soothed most beings, and almost every transport ship had one.

When Hah reached the lounge, he discovered Chew-bacca was there already, staring out at the stars. Han went over to the viewport and stood beside him, looking at their destination. They were racing toward a large planet, bigger than CoreIlia, that boasted brown deserts, sickly green vegeta-tion, and slate-blue oceans. Han recognized it at once. Hed been there before, five years ago. He nudged Chewie. Nal Hutta, he told his companion. Means Glorious Jewel in Huttese, but trust me, pal, it aint pretty. Bunch of swamps and bogs, and the whole place stinks like a sewer in the middle of a garbage dump. The Corellian wrinkled his nose at the memory.

As the partners watched, the Stellar Princess swung past the Hutt homeworld, using the planets gravity to cut veloc-ity. Chewie whined a question. Nope, Ive never been to Nar Shaddaa, Hah replied. When I was here five years ago, I never even got a close look at it. They could see the edge of the big moon now, as it crept over the horizon. Chewie made an inquiring sound. Yeah, the planet and its moon are tidally locked, so they always keep the same hemispheres facing each other, Han replied. Synchro-nous orbit.

As tile Princess glided around the big world, Han saw that space on this side of the planet was studded with float-ing debris. As they drew closer, the debris proved to be derelict spaceships of .all shapes and sizes. Hans Imperial training allowed him to ID many of them, but there were some that even hed never seen.

The Smugglers Moon was a big moon, one of the big-gest Han had ever encountered. It was surrounded by the derelict spaceships, and they were numerous enough that the Princess had to change course several times to avoid them. Many of them were burned-out hulks, or shells with great holes blasted in their hulls.

From the amount of space-scarring on their sides, it was plain to Han that many of theln had been there for de-cades, even centuries. Han wondered why there were so many, but then he caught a faint glimmer of planet-light off an ephemeral field that enclosed the waiting moon. A mo-ment later a piece of space junk blazed up in a bright explo-sion.

Hey, Chewie... that explains these hulks, Han said, pointing. See that glimmer surrounding Nar Shad-daa? The place is shielded. These ships came calling, and if they-didnt want to let em land, they just refilsed to drop shields, then used ion guns to blast era. Guess they mustve had their share of pirates and raiders, huh?

Chewbacca made a low noise that sounded like Hrrrrrnnnn . . . and meant Right. The faint haze caused by the moons shield made it diffi-cult to see specifics about their approaching destination. But Hah could tell that the landscape was almost com-pletely covered with structures. Communication spires stuck up in spikes from the welter of buildings. Like a run-down version ofCoruscant, Han thought, remembering the wodd that was one vast city-a world so encased in layers upon layers of buildings that the natural landscape was al-most completely covered except at the poles. As Han stared out at the fabled Smugglers Moon, he found himself remembering his dream again. In the dream hed been looking up at another, very different moon. He frowned. Funny thing-that stuff about the mascot moon, that had actually happened. Han had stood in ranks with the other cadets and watched the little moon explode vio-lently in Caridas nighttime sky.

Perhaps his subconscious had sent him that dream to remind him of something important that hed forgotten. Hah hoisted his knapsack higher on his shoulder. Mako, he mumbled. Chewbacca gave him an inquiring glance. Hah shrugged. I was just thinkin that maybe we should look up Mako.

Chewie cocked his head and mhrrrrnnnnned a question. Mako Spince. I knew him when he was an upperclass-man cadet. Mako and me go back a long ways, Han ex-plained. Mako Spince was an old friend, and last H ah had heard, hed had ties to Nar Shaddaa. They said he even lived here at times. It wouldnt hurt to look up Mako, see if he could help his old buddy Han find work . . .

Mako Spince was ten years older than Han, and they couldnt have had more opposite childhoods. Han had been a child of the streets until the cruel, sadistic Garris Shrike had taken him in and introduced him to a life of crime. Mako was the son of an important Imperial Senator. Hed been brought up with every advantage---but hed lacked Hans determination. Makos main interest while at the Im-perial Academy had been in having fun.

Mako had been an upperclassman, two years ahead of Han. Despite their disparate backgrounds, the two had be-come good friends, racing swoops, hosting clandestine wild parties, playing practical jokes on stodgy instructors. Mako was always the instigator in their mischief. Han had been the cautious one, never forgetting how hard hed had to work to get into the Academy. The younger cadet was care-ful never to get caught but Mako, confident that his fa-thers connections would protect him from consequences, had dared anything and everything in his pursuit of the perfect joke, the most daring escapade.

Destroying the Academys mascot moon had been his biggest-and last-prank as an Imperial cadet. Han had known at the time that something was up, something big. Mako had tried to induce him to come along when hed planned the break-in to the physics lab. But Han had had a test to study for, so hed refused. If hed known what Mako was planning, hed have tried to talk his friend out of it. That night, while Han plotted orbits and worked on his Economics of Hyperspace Troop Movement presenta-tion, Mako broke into Professor Cal-Megs physics lab. He stole a gram of antimatter, then a small, one-man shutfie and a spacesuit from the Academy shuttle hangar, and took off. Landing on the small planetoid that was Caridas nearest of three satellites, Mako planted the antimatter capsule in the middle of the huge Academy Seal that had been laser-carved into the satellite decades ago, back when Carida was still a training planet for the troops of the now-vanished Republic. Mako triggered the antimatter explosion from a safe distance in space, intending to blast the seal right off the face of the little moon.

But Mako had underestimated the power of the antimat-ter hed stolen. The entire satellite blew up in a cataclysmic display that Hah and the other cadets witnessed from the planets surface. Mako was immediately one of the prime suspects. Hed pulled so many pranks in his time, caused so much may-hem, that the officers began checking on him almost before the debris from the shattered satellite had either plunged planetward or drifted into alignment, forming a disjointed ring around Carida. Han was also a suspect, but fortunately for him, a friend had come over to see him for some astrophysics coaching right at the time of the break-in. Hans alibi was airtight. But Makos wasnt.

At the hearing, the prosecution had alleged that Mako

was a terrorist whod infiltrated the Academy. Hah himself had volunteered to give testimony under truth drugs in order to clear his friend of that charge-and theyd had to accept his word that Mako had acted alone, intending only to play a prank. So Mako was spared the charge of terror-ism. In the end, theyd just expelled the senior cadet.

Makos father had come through one last time, and

given Mako the credits to set himself up in business. Little

did the Senator suspect that his only son would spend the

money on a ship, and contraband to stock it with. Then

Mako had disappeared, but Han knew that Mako Spince wasnt the sort to just quietly fade into the background. Not Mako. Where there was excitement to be had, and credits to be accrued, thats where youd find Mako Spince.

Hah was betting that someone on Nar Shaddaa would know where his friend was. Han watched as the Princess drifted closer and closer to the large moon. Nar Shadd was actually the size of a small planet, almost a third the size of Nal Hutta. It was hard to make out details through the shield, but he could see lights flashing.

As the Princess neared the Smugglers Moon, a section of the he that marked the shield suddenly disappeared, and Hah knew theyd dropped a shield to admit their ship. The transport went past the shield, and moments later they entered atmosphere.

Now Hah could see the source of the flashing lights-huge holosigns that advertised goods and services. As they came closer, he was able to read one. Sentients-Get It Here! Anything goes! If you have the credits, we have who-or what-you want!

Just a real classy place, Han thought sarcastically. Hed seen signs for pleasure-houses before, but never anything flis blatant.

As the Princess dropped down tow,rd - Icarge clear space atop a massive pile of permacrete, 1I, ,alized this must be their intended landing site. Hc ,, ,, about for a seat to strap himself in, but realized that ,,-; of the other passengers seemed concerned. They just dabbed a hand-hold affixed to the inside hull and hung on. Han shrugged, glanced at Chewbacca, and they did likewise. The Corellian discovered that it was much more dittqeult enduring a tricky landing as a passenger than it was as a pilot. When you were piloting, you were too busy to think about the possible danger.

A moment later there was a slight jar, and they were now-n.

Hah and Chewbacca followed the other passengers toward the airlock, and found a line ahead of them, waiting to disembark. Hah couldnt help noticing how hardened and seedy the other passengers appeared. Tough, space-scarred males, with a scattering of even tougher-appearing females. Sapients of assorted species, but no families, and no one was old.

That Barabel would fit right in, he thought, conscious of the comforting weight of his blaster against his thigh.

The airlock door slid open, and the passengers began filing down the ramp, onto the landing pad. Han took a deep breath of the local air, then wrinkled his nose in dis-gust. Beside him, Chewie whined softly. I know it stinks, Hah said, out of the side of his mouth.

Get used to it, pal. Were gonna be here awhile. Chewbaccas sigh was eloquent, and required no transla-tion.

Han didnt want to seem like too much of a newcomer, so he tried hard not to stare as they walked down the ramp. Finally, he was able to get a good look at his surroundings. At first glance, Nar Shaddaa reminded him of Corus-cant-there was no open land to be seen at all. Only build-ings, towers, spires, pedestrian glidewalks, shuttle landing pads, all of it blending into an unending vista of sentient-created construction. It resembled a permacrete forest studded with garish advertising holosigns.

But as he and Chewie walked slowly across the landing pad, Hah quickly realized that even though they were on the topmost levels of the moon, this place differed greatly from the topmost levels of Imperial Center, as it was offi-cially referred to these days.

Coruscants topmost levels were clean, tastefully lighted marvels of soaring, graceful architecture. Only when one traveled down, hundreds of levels down, to the deeper levels of the planet-wide tAty, did Coruscant appear dingy and seedy.

The topmost level of Nar Shaddaa looked like the deep-est levels of Coruseant. If this is a top level, Hah thought, catching a glimpse of a dizzying plunge down into an artifi-cial canyon between two massive, graffiti-emblazoned buildings, I hate to think what it must be like down there . . . Han had been down to the bottommost level of Corus-cant-once. It wasnt an experience he wanted to repeat.

Glancing surreptitiously around at the cityscape of Nar Shaddaa, Han made a mental note to NEVER

visit the bottom levels of the Smugglers Moon.

Overhead, the sky was a strange color, as though they were looking at a normal blue sky through a dark brownish filter. Nal Hutta hung there, as huge and bloated as the sluglike sentients that called it home. It took up at least ten degrees of the sky. Han realized that Nat Shaddaa must have two nights. One would be the norma] long night, when one side of the moon was turned away from the sun. The other relatively short night would occur when the sun was eclipsed by the enormous bulk of Nal Hutta. Total-ity would probably last a couple of hours, Han thought, running a rough calculation in his head. Chewie groaned and whined. Youre right, pal, Han said. At least on Coruscant they planted trees and orna-mental shrubs. I dont think anything could grow on this slag heap. Not even a lubellian fungus. The two headed for a ramp that led down off the landing pad. The ramp wound round and round, and was not well lighted. Although theyd landed in daylight, the towering spires and structures that flanked the building with the landing-pad roof blocked out most of the sunlight as they descended. The enclosed ramp quickly grew dark and shadowy. The rest of the travelers had long since departed, and they were alone in the echoing silence of the high-walled, roofed ramp. Wan glowlights provided dim illumi-nation. Han kept his back to the wall, thinking uneasily that this would be a real good place for an ambush. His hand dropped to the butt of his blasterjust as a blue-green splat of energy from a stun beam came out of nowhere!

Hans reflexes had always been quick, and weeks of liv-ing on the run had honed them to a sharp edge. Before the beam splashed against the wall, he threw himself out of the way, landing flat. He rolled across the permacrete, sideways and down. When he came up, his blaster was ready in his hand. Hah caught a quick glimpse of his assailant-a stocky inale humanoid, with a lot of hair on his face. A Bothan, probably. A bounty hunter, almost certainly. The Corellian snapped off a shot but missed, blowing a hole in the permacrete wall. He crouched beside the opposite wall, watching for the bounty hunter to reappear.

Chewbacca howled. Hah looked across the ramp at his partner, who was crouched against the curve of the wall, safe for the moment. He made an urgent stay still! sign with his hand. Chewbacca glared at him, and hefted his bowcaster emphatically.

Whats he trying to tell me? Hah wondered. Chewie roared, and to anyone who didnt understand Wookiee, the sound he produced would have seemed nothing more than a howl of rage. But Hah understood. He nodded at Chewie, then dived down-ramp, firing blindly as he went. Two shots sizzled into the wall, and chips of permacrete flew.

The stun beam screamed past him again, and Hah took a deep breath, then yelled with anguish, doubling over and dropping his blaster.

He hit the permacrete and lay there, as if stunned. This had better work . . . Steps approached, quick and decisiveand then came the whang of the bowcaster being fired. A loud, explosive whump and a short, choked-off scream followed.

Hah rolled over and leaped to his feet, just in time to see his assailant slump to his knees, anguish imprinted on every hairy feature. A Bothan, sure enough. His hands were clutching a smoking hole in his chest.

A Bothan bounty hunter. Hah recognized the type, if not the individual. As he watched, the Bothan pitched over on his face. He thrashed, gurgled, gave one final twitch, then lay still.

Hah looked over at his partner and nodded. Good shooting, Chewie. Thanks. Walking over to the dead Bothan, Hah used the toe of his boot to turn him over onto his back. The hairy features had gone slack in death. Hah eyed the wound. That doesnt look anything like a blaster shot. Cant be all that many Wookiees here on Nar Shaddaa, so I think we need to disguise how this guy met his end.

Drawing his blaster, Hah aimed, turned his head, then discharged it full force into the Bothans chest. When he looked back, the Bothan barely had a chest, and all signs of Chewies distinctive weapon were erased.

Han searched the bounty hunter, finding a few credits in his pockets, and a WANTED flimsy giving a description of one Hah Solo plus the information that the quarry was thought to be heading for Nar Shaddaa. The bounty posted for Hah was seventy-five hundred credits. Live capture only, no disintegrations.

Hah scanned it, then stuffed it into his pocket. Looks like things might get real exciting, Chewie, he said. Wed better stay sharp.

Hrrrrrrnnnn . . .

Hah wondered what to do about the Bothan. Should they try to destroy the body? Should they just leave him here, as a warning? Or should they find someplace to dump him where it would take him a while to be discovered?

After some consideration, Hah decided to just leave the Bothan. If the sight of one dead bounty hunter might deter another, so much the better. He and Chewbacca set off down the last part of the ramp together. Hah half expected the bounty hunter to have a partner, but no one bothered them. Minutes later they emerged onto a street in Nar Shad-daa. Hah stepped onto a lurching glidewalk and let it carry him along, while he looked around.

Nar Shaddaa resembled a tri-dee maze puzzle con-structed by a lunatic. Spidery walkways and precipitous ramps joined building to building. Architectural styles and designs from dozens of worlds jostled shoulder to shoulder. Domes, spires, arches, hulking squat rectangles, parabolas . . the jumble of shapes made his head spin. Durasteel and permacrete and glassine and other building materials Han couldnt even begin to identify were entrusted with filth and graffiti. Some of the scrawled names and images were stories high.

Many of the larger structures had obviously been built decades ago, when Nar Shaddaa was a respectable space-port, a pleasure moon where wealthy sentients came to play. Great buildings that had once been fine hotels were now gutted and reduced to multilevel hovels, housing the living detritus of a dozen or more worlds. The streets and alleys were subject to a constant bombardment of toxic and noxious wastes spewed down from higher up. The air was as bad as one of Nal Huttas bogs-or worse. The scent of food from multiple worlds warred with the stench of leaking sewers, mingling with the sharp odors of intoxicating spices and other drugs. The sharp reek of ship exhaust was ever-present, as were the ships themselves, roaring and gliding and swooping overhead, landing and taking off in an endless bizarre ballet.

Some of the hotels and casinos were still in business-most likely those owned by the Hutt Ix)rds, Han guessed. Sentients from dozens of worlds crowded the streets, avoid-ing eye contact, ever-alert, always poised to seek out and profit from another sentients mistake or moment of weak-ness. Nearly everyone Han saw went armed, with tile ex-ception of the droids.

Han was hungry, but he didnt recognize any of the wares the street vendors were selling They say theres a Corellian section, he muttered to Chewie. Thats proba-bly where we should head. He didnt want to admit that he was lost, for fear of attracting thieves or worse, but a few minutes later Han saw a banner hanging from an awning (most booths and building fronts possessed awnings-they helped shield the inhabitants from noxious spatters falling from above) that read in six languages and Basic mvonMa-TION

BROKER.

Han stepped off the glidewalk and headed toward the booth, with Chewie trailing behind. The Information Bro-ker proved to be an ancient Twilek woman, so old that her ropy head-tails were shriveled and knotty with age. She eyed Hah sharply, then spoke in her own language. What you wish to know, Pilot?

Hah took out a half-credit coin, and laid it on the edge of the booth, ostentatiously keeping his forefinger on it. Two things, he said, in his own language, knowing she must speak Basic. Directions on how to get to the Corel-lian section, by the safest and most direct route he paused as she keyed some information onto the ancient datapad before her, and then when she looked up againand... where can I find a smuggler named Mako Spince? The old Twilek grinned, showing stained and broken teeth For the first, she cried, take this. She shoved a flimsy into his hand. Han squinted at it, saw that it was a section of a map. One blinking red dot indicated, You Are Here. Directions to the Corellian sector of Nar Shaddaa were clearly indicated. Hah nodded. Okay. What about Mako?

She gave him an amused glance. Go there, Corellian sector, Pilot. Ask in bars, brothels, gambling dens. You not find Mako, no. But he then find you, Pilot.

Han grinned reluctantly. Yeah, that sounds like Mako. Okay, I guess you earned it. He lifted his forefinger off the credit piece, and she caused it to disappear so fast it was like a magic act. She was watching him, her little orange-red eyes bright in her wrinkled countenance. Pilot handsome, she said, giving her best approximation of a coy smile. The effect, with her teeth, was hideous. Oodonnaa old, but lots of life yet. Pilot interested? The tip of one head-tail lifted off her shriveled shoulder and twitched invitingly at the Corellian.

Hans eyes widened. Minions of Xendor, she proposi-tioning me.t The tip of her head-tail made a beckoning mo-tion. Hah backed away, shaking his head, feeling his cheeks grow warm. Uh, no thanks, madam, he said stiffly. Im honored, but, uh . . . Ive raken a . . . vow. Of absti-nence. Yeah. A vow. She seemed more amused at his discomfiture than an-gered by his refusal as she waved farewell. Han about-faced and marched away. Beside him, Chewbacca gave an unmis-takable Wookiee guffaw. Yuck it up, Han snapped. See if I stick my neck out for you again. Chewie just laughed harder. Two hours later they reached the Corellian sector. The old Twileks map and directions proved accurate, but street signs were often missing, or had been turned around by pranksters. Hah was relieved to walk into the Corellian sec-tor and see architecture that was plainly patterned on that of his native world. Scents wafting from the sidewalk cafes tantalized him, familiar and reassuring. Lets get some-thing to eat, Han said, waving Chewie to one of the bistros that looked marginally cleaner than the others. Chairs and tables that had once been white were ranged beneath one of the omnipresent awnings, a green and red one, this time.

Han ordered traladon goulash, and was pleased to find that it was good, almost like eating back home. He dug into his plate with relish, while Chewbacca attacked a large salad and a plate of bloody-rare traladon ribs.

When Han had fnished, he leaned back in his seat, sip-ping a local ale and trying to decide if he liked the taste. When the serving droid appeared to display his bill, Han asked, Mako Spince. Does he ever come here? Medium height, broad shoulders, short dark hair, graying at the tem-ples? The droids head swiveled side to side. No, sir, I have not seen the person you describe. Tell your boss I was askin about him, okay? Han said. He finished the last of his ale, then he and Chewbacca headed down the street toward the most garish of the bars. Short night was rapidly falling now, as YToub was eclipsed behind the bulk of Nal Hutta. The real night was still many hours away, and would last more than forty standard hours. As the artificial lights came up, Han wondered if hed ever get used to such long nights. It probably didnt matter, since the moon that was a city never really slept. At The Smugglers Rest, Han asked again for Mako Spince, and naturally, nobody had ever heard of him. They did the same thing at The Lucky Star, the tattered remains of what had once been an elegant casino, and then at two or three more bars. Han was getting used to the word no. He sighed and trudged onward.

The Smugglers Hideaway.

The Corellian Cafe.

T he Golden Orb.

The Exotic Exhibit (LIVE Dancers! LIVE Shows!).

The Comet Casino.

The Drunken Drummer.

By now Hans feet were beginning to hurt from pound-ing the permacrete, going up and down ramps. Places on Nar Shaddaa were often frustrating to reach unless one had wings, or a jet pak. You could stand on a balcony and look over at your destination, only ten meters away, and yet have to walk for fifteen minutes, up and down rampways, to reach it.

Some of the buildings had ropes or wires strung be-tween them, but Han wasnt desperate or foolhardy enough to trust himself to swing hand over hand across a twenty-or forty-or hundred-story abyss. The walkways between buildings were frequently in poor repair, and after an assessing look, Hah often decided to take the long way around. Some of them might have held him, but he doubted theyd stand up to the Wookiees weight.

He was beginning to wonder whether they should just give up their search and try to find a flophouse that would be a safe place to grab a few hours sleep. Thinking back, Han realized that it had been nearly twelve hours since hed awakened on the Princess.

He turned his head as they walked by the mouth of a smelly alley to suggest fitis to Chewbacca when a hand reached out of the alley and grabbed him by the throat. Half a second later, Hah was dragged up against a hard humanoid body. He felt the muzzle of a blaster press his temple. Not one step, a deep, congenial voice said over his shoulder, addressing Chewbacca, or Ill scramble his brains till they run out his ears.

The Wookiee halted, snarling, showing teeth, but obvi-ously unwilling to attack in the face of that threat. Han knew that voice. He gasped, but couldnt get any breath to speak with. The iron hand tightened on his throat. Mako! he tried to say.

Maa was all he managed to get out.

Dont cry to your mama to me, kid, the voice said. Now who in the Name of Xendor are you, and why were you askin about me?

Hah gulped, gagged, but still couldnt speak. Chewbacca growled, then pointed at Makos quivering captive. Haaaaannnn, the Wookiee said, twisting his mouth around the human name with great difficulty. Haaaannnn . . .

Huh? the voice said, sounding stunned. Han? Abruptly Hah was released, then swung around. As he gasped, hands to his throat, his captor, who was indeed Mako Spince, grabbed him in a hug so enthusiastic that it deprived him of breath yet again. Han! Kid, its great to see you! How ARE you, you old sonofagun? A hard fist thumped the younger Corellian between the shoulder blades. Han gasped and wheezed, only to lose his breath again. Mako helpfully slapped him on the back, which didnt im-prove matters.

Mako . . . he managed, finally. Its been a long time.

Youve changed.

So have you, his friend said.

They stood there studying each other. Makos hair was long enough to brush his shoulders now, and there were more gray threads amid the black. He wore a fierce, bris-tling mustache, and had gained some weight, mostly in his shoulders. A narrow scar ran down the line of his jaw. Hah decided he was glad Mako was on Iris side. He didnt look like anyone Han wanted to have as an enemy. He wore a scarred jumpsuit of spacers leather, hide so thin and flexi-ble, and yet so tough, that it was said it could maintain internal pressure even in vacuum.

The two friends stared at each other, sizing each other up, then both burst out with questions. They stopped, laughing. One at a time! Mako said.

Okay, Hah said. You go first . . .

Minutes later, they were all seated in a tavern, drinking, talking, and spouting questions. Han told Mako his story, and found that his old friend wasnt surprised to learn that hed left the service. I knew youd never be able to go along with the slaving, Han, Mako said. I remember how it used to set your teeth on edge to even see an Imperial slaving detail. Made you crazy, boy. I knew the first time they tried to get you to boss slaves, that would be the end of your brilliant career. Han looked sheepish as he raised his second tankard of Alderaanian ale to his lips. You know me too well, he admitted. But what could I do, Mako? Nyklas was gonna kill Chewie!

Makos ice-blue eyes were smiling with unaccustomed warmth. Nothing else you cou/d have done, kid, he said.

So, Mako, howve you been doing? Han asked. Hows the business?

Booming, Han, Mako said. The Empires restrictions are makin us all rich, runnin contraband of all kinds these days. Spice, yeah, thats still big. But we do nearly as well these days smuggling arms, weapons components, power paks, all that kind of thing. Luxuries like perfume and As-kajian fabric, too. Lemme tell ya, Hah, old Palpatine wouldnt rest nearly as easy nights if he knew how dissatis-fied with his rule some wodds are getting.

So theres work here? Han asked eagerly. Work for pilots? You know Im good, Mako. Mako signaled the server droid for another round of drinks. Kid, youre one of the best, and Ill let everyone know that, Mako said, slapping Han on the shoulder. Badure didnt name you Slick for nothin!

Tell you what, want to work for me to get your feet wet? I could use a good copilot, and while youre ridin with me, I can show you some Of the best runs. Ill introduce you to all the other runners, too. Some of em are bound to need help. Han hesitated. Could Chewie here come along? Mako shrugged and took a huge swig of ale. Can he shoot? I can always use a good gunner. Yeah, Han said, finishing his own tankard with more confidence than he felt. Chewie was a dead shot with his bowcaster, but hed only been training as a gunner for a month or so. He can shoot. Its all set, then, Mako said. Listen, kid, you found yourself a landing zone yet? A landing zone, in smugglers lingo, meant a room or fiat. Han shook his head and felt the room lurch slightly. I was hoping you could recommend a decent place, he said. Not too expensive. Sure I can! Mako said, slurring ever so slightly. But why don you two come stay with me for a day or so, till we cn get you set up.

Well . . . Han glanced over at Chewie, sure, wed love to, wouldn we, o1 buddy? Hrrrrrrnnnnnnnn!

Mako insisted on paying for the drinks, then the three left, heading for Makos digs. The two humans were rather the worse for the ale theyd consumed, but Mako assured them it wasnt far. They headed a few levels down, where the buildings were grimier and seamier. Don be fooled, Mako said, waving a hand at their surroundings. Ive got plenty of room, n my place is fixed up decent. But living down here, youre not as much a target for thieves and burglars as the folks livin topside. He jerked a thumb upward. Hah eyed their surroundings, and concluded that back in his days as a burglar hed have given this area a clean miss. It was unprepossessing. Drunks weaved along the permacrete, and the glidewalks down on this level were permanently broken. Beggars and pickpockets eyed them, but didnt approach the trio. Han figured that was because Chewbacca was wearing his fiercest Dont mess with me or Ill rip your arm off look.

But suddenly, what Hah had assumed was a heap of old, grimy rags stirred. From within the rags a skeletal human hand appeared, and Han caught just a glimpse of a beaky-nosed, nearly toothless face. An ancient crone, whose eyes shone bright with . . . what? Drugs? Madness? Oh, no! Not again! What is it with all the old women on Nar Shaddaa? Cant wait to get their hands on young pi-lots?

Hah drew back, but the liquor had slowed his reflexes, and he wasnt quick enough. A second talonlike hand shot out of the heap of tatters and grabbed his wrist. Tell your fortunes, good sirs? Tell your fortunes, masters? The voice was shrill and squeaky, and Hah couldnt place the accent. The descendant of Vima Sunrider has foreseen the future, good sirs! For a credit she will tell you what lies ahead. Lemme go! Han tried to yank his hand free from the filthy claw, but the ancient womans grip was surprisingly strong. He fumbled for a credit coin, just to make her let go of him. He didnt want to have to stun the crone-at her age a stun blast might kill her. ttere! Take th credit and lemme go! He dropped the money in her lap.

Vima no beggar! the old woman insisted indignantly. She earns her creditT Foresees the future, yesssss she does! Vima knows, yessssss . . .

Han stopped and sighed, rolling his eyes. At least she wasnt propositioning him. Go ahead, then, he snapped.

Ah, young captain . . . she half crooned, prying open

his fist and staring at his palm, then up at his face. So

young . . . so much lies before you. A long road, first the

smugglers road, then the way of the warrior. Glory you will

have, yessssss. But first you must face terrible danger. Betrayal, yessssss . . . betrayal from those you trust. Betrayal . . . Her eyes fixed for a second on Mako, and the older man and Hah exchanged exasperated glances.

So Im gonna be betrayed, Han said impatiently. Will I get rich? Thass all I care about. Ahhhhhhh . . . she cackled shrilly. My young cap-tain, yessssss . . . wealth will come to you, but only after you no longer care about it.

Han burst out laughing. Thatll be th day! Grandma, gettin rich is ALL I care about!

Yesssss, that is true. Much will you do for money. But more will you do for love. Great, Hah snarled, trying again to yank free. Thass it, Ive had nuff of this garbage, he growled, and with a hard flex of his wrist, he broke her grip. Thanks for noth-ing . . . nutty old witch. Dont ever bother me again.

Turning unsteadily on his heel, Hah stalked away, scowl-ing, with Chewbacca and Mako in his wake. He could hear Mako snickering, and Chewie was still chuckling. Han scowled. The crazy old thing had made a fool of him!

The permacrete be neath his feet seemed to lurch slightly, and all Han could think about was how good it was going to feel to stretch out on Makos couch, or floor, and grab some sleep. Behind him, he could hear the old woman cackling softly, crooning nonsense to herself. Han hardly remembered climbing the rampway to Makos flat, and he didnt remember falling onto the couch at all. He was instantly asleep, and this time, he didnt dream. When he awakened the next morning, hed forgotten all about the old woman and her foretelling. Aruk the Hutt was doing what lie loved most in all the universe . . . totaling his profits. The powerful Hutt Lord, head of the Besadii clan and its kajidic, bent over his datapad, his stubby fingers busy as he instructed the ma-chine to calculate a percentage of profits based on a twenty percent yearly growth in product, projected three years into the future.

The resulting graph and accompanying figures made him laugh softly, a booming Heh, heh, heh . . . in the solitude of his huge office. No other living thing was pres-ent, only Aruks favorite scribe, who stood poised in the corner, metallically gleaming, waiting until its master sum-moned it from its artificial repose. Arnk read the graph again, and blinked his bulbous eyes. He was an old Hutt, approaching his ninth century, and hed reached the corpulent stage that most Hutts achieved past middle age. It was now such an effort for him to get around under his own power that he seldom bothered any-more. Even the warnings of his persona] physician about impending circulatory problems failed to make him exer-cise these days. Instead, he relied on his anti-gravity repul-sor sled. With it, he could go anywhere. Arnks sled was top quality, the best money could buy. After .all, why should the head of the Besadii kajidic deny himself anything?

But Arnk was not one of those sybaritic Hutts who rel-ished the pleasures of the flesh. True, he was a gourmet, and often a gourmand, but he didnt maintain entire pal-aces filled with slaves to cater to his slightest-or most per-verse whim, the way some Hutts did.

Arnk had heard that Jiliacs nephew, Jabba, kept several female dancing humanoids-humanoids, of all things!--on leashes near him at all times. Arnk considered such indul-gences distasteful and extravagant. The Desilijic clan had always had a weakness for fleshly pleasures. Jiliacs taste was better than Jabbas, but he enjoyed hedonistic excess just as much as his nephew.

And that is why we will prevail, Aruk thought. The Besadii clan is willing to endure a bit of privation, if neces-sary, to gain our ends . . .

Aruk knew it wouldnt be easy, though. Jiliac and Jabba were clever and ruthless, and their clan was as wealthy as his own. For years the two richest and most powerful Hutt clans had contended with each other for the most lucrative ventures. Neither clan had eschewed methods such as as-sassination, kidnapping, and terrorism to gain their ends.

Arnk knew that Jabba and Jiliac would do almost any-thing to bring Besadii down. But the path to ultimate power was money, and Arnk was pleased with how many credits the Ylesian project was bringing Besadii every year.

Soon, Arnk thought, we will have so many credits that we will be able to wipe them off the face of Hal Hutta, eliminate them as we would, any blight on crops or pes-tilence in our people. Soon, the Besadii will rule Nal Hutta unopposed . . .

Aruk, and his dead sibling, Zawal, had been the ones whod thought of setting up colonies on Ylesia, and using religious pilgrims as slave labor to turn raw spice into the finished product. The only thing theyd feared was a slave uprising, and it had been Arnk whod come up with the idea of the One, the All, and the Exultation to tie it all together.

Most Hutts knew of the tlanda Til ability to project warm, pleasurable emotions and sensations into the minds of most humanoid species. But it had taken Aruks quick thinking, his cleverness, to come up with the idea of the Exultation as a mind-numbing reward for a days hard labor in the spice factories. Once hed realized how the tlanda Til ability could be utilized, it had been a simple matter for Arnk to make up some doctrine, compose a few hymns, and write several chants and litanies. And that was all it took to produce a religion that credulous fools belonging to inferior species could embrace. Production in the factories was excellent had been ex-cellent all along. Only once, five years ago, had the Ylesian enterprise not turned a tidy profit. That was the year that wretched Corellian, Han Solo, had destroyed the glitter-stim factory. And destroyed Zawal, too, though the finan-cial loss was the one Aruk regretted the most. He did not think himself unduly harsh or unsympathetic for caring so little that his sibling had died. No, he was reacting as any true Hutt would.

Aruk studied one item on the Ylesian colonys project budget. The sum of seventy-five hundred credits to be handed over to the person or persons responsible for Hans live capture. No disintegrations was the primary guide-line. Live capture and delivery.

Seventy-five hundred credits. A twenty-five-hundred-credit raise since the bounty was first posted. Apparently Solo was proving . . . difficult. Well, this new bounty was certainly large enough to tempt many hunters, though Aruk had seen larger ones. Still, for a man so young, it was a large bounty. Was it really necessary to pay extra for the live capture option? Aruk had supervised many torture sessions, coolly and efficiently, but unlike many of his people, he took no pleasure in tormenting sentients to gain his own ends. If the Corellian Solo were to be brought before him, Aruk would not bother to torture him before ordering his death.

But Teroenza was a different story. The tlanda Til were vengeful people, and it was obvious to Aruk that the High Priest of Ylesia would not rest until he could personally supervise the long and exceedingly painful death of Hah Solo. Moment by moment, scream by scream, groan by groan, Solo would die in the most exquisite agony, while Teroenza savored every second of it. But did Aruk want to pay extra, just so Teroenza could be satisfied? Aruk considered. Lines of concentration formed above his bulbous, slit-pupiled eyes. After a mo-ment he released his breath in a short, decisive hour. Very well, he would authorize the payment of the bounty. Let Teroenza look forward to his fun. The anticipation made the High Priest happy, and happy underlings were productive underlings.

Aruk was a bit concerned about Teroenza, actually. The tlanda Til was definitely running the Ylesian operation, no matter how much he and that idiot Kibbick tried to dis-guise that fact. Aruk frowned. Ylesia was a Hutt operation. It wasnt proper for anyone other than a Hutt to give the orders there. And yet . . . Kibbick was the only high-ranking Hutt in the Besadii elan who was available at the moment to take the Ylesian posting. And Kibbick, there was no denying it, was a fool. If only I dared send Durga, Aruk thought. He has the will and the intelligence to rule Ylesia properly, to remind Teroenza of just who his masters are . . .

Durga was Aruks only offspring. He was still a very young Hutt, barely past the age of legal responsibility and true self-awareness; only a hundred standard years old. But he was smart, ten times more intelligent and clever than Kibbick.

When Durga was born, all the other Hutts urged Aruk to roll over on the helpless newborn, smothering him, be-cause of the dark birthmark that spread like a foul liquid from his forehead down over one eye and cheek. They said that such a marred countenance would make the youngster socially unacceptable, and speculated that he would be feebleminded all his life. Ancient tales mentioned that such birthmarks were supposed to be omens of disaster, and the elder Hutts predicted all sorts of terrible things should Durga be allowed to survive.

But Aruk had looked down at his tiny, squirming off-spring and sensed that his child would grow up to be a worthy Hurt, intelligent, cunning, and, when necessary, ruthless. So he had taken young Durga up into his arms and solemnly pronounced that here was his offspring and heir, and warned the nay-sayers to be silent.

Aruk had seen to it that Durga was well educated, and had everything a growing Hutt could want. The young Hutt responded to his parents interest, and the bond between the two had become very close. Staring down at the graphs showing the Ylesian finances, Aruk made a mental note to share his findings with Durga later that day. He was grooming his offspring to take on the leadership of the clan after his own passing.

These figures are so encouraging, Aruk thought, that we should put some of this profit into founding yet another colony on Ylesia. Seven colonies can produce much more processed spice than six. And we can increase our mission-ary force by recruiting more tlanda Til males and sending them out to lure in more pilgrims.

Aruks greatest dream was to someday expand their spice-processing and slaving operation to a second world in the Ylesian system. He knew he probably wouldnt live to see two wodds producing at full capacity, but Durga defi-nitely would.

There was only one problem, and that was Desilijic. Aruk knew that Jiliac and Jabba watched every move he and his high-ranking clan members made, and they were ready to pounce at the slightest sign of weakness. They were ruthless, the Desilijic, and they were jealous of the Besadii clan and their success on Ylesia. Aruk knew only too well how much Jabba and Jiliac would give to destroy them all and take over the Ylesian operation.

Still, it was but a sign of the Besadii clans extraordinary success and accomplishment that they be so envied. Hutt life was full of move and countermove. That was the way of it, and frankly, Aruk thrived on the intrigue, the d anger. He wouldnt have changed things if he could have. With a sigh of contentment, Aruk the Hutt turned off his datapad and stretched, rubbing his bulbous eyes. Ahhhhh . . a good afternoons work. Time for dinner, and a chance to spend time with his offspring. How pleasant that he had such good news to impart!

Guiding his repulsor sled with minuscule touches from his thick fingers, Aruk glided from the room, in search of food and companionship . . .

Five months and six bounty hunters later, Han and Chewbacca had settled down into life on Nar Shaddaa. Han found them a little apartment in the Corellian sec-tor, a megablock or so from Makos place, and only one level below it. The little fiat was set up like a small suite, with two tiny bedrooms with foldout beds, a minuscule kitchen/living area, and refresher unit. But they didnt spend much time at home. As soon as Mako had intro-duced Han to his associates, the young Corellian found steady work. Good pilots were always valued on Nar Shad-daa.

During his first month, Han filled in as a shift pilot on the Nar Shaddaa to Nal Hutta shuttle, ferrying Hutts and their underlings back and forth from the Smugglers Moon to the Hurt homeworld. Han had hoped to meet either Jabba or Jiliac that way, but the two top Hutt Lords of the Desilijic clan had their own private shuttles and didnt need to take public ones. Han hung on to the referral Tagta had given him, but decided hed better learn his way around before he applied for jobs piloting for the Hutts. They were tough masters to please.

Just about the time Hans temporary job ended, the young Corellian went out with Mako on several runs, haul-ing loads of spice from the Twilek homeworld, Ryloth, to a staging area on Roon. There Han met up with an old ac-quaintance of Makos, a craggy-faced, aging smuggler named Zeen Afit. Zeen was heading off to Smugglers Run with a shipment of food, and when he mentioned that hed like company, Han and Chewbacca offered to ride along.

Smugglers Run was a hideout for sentients on the lam who were even hotter than the denizens of Nar Shaddaa. Smugglers Run was a series of hideouts-actually, artificial environments whittled out of several large asteroids located in the middle of a huge asteroid field. The main one was a smelly hole bored into a large asteroid that was known as SlOp 1.

Zeen Afit showed Han the way into the Run, through the treacherous, constantly changing asteroid field, though he wouldnt let him pilot his clunky old freighter, the Co-rona. Next time, kid, he promised, in his breathless, wheezy voice, as his fingers flew over the controls. I prom-ise you. This time, just watch old Uncle Zeen and enjoy the ride.

Han gulped as Corona narrowly missed colliding with a jagged, hurtling rock that would have reduced them and their ship to molecules. If Im still alive when the next time comes, he pointed out, involuntarily ducking as an-other asteroid nearly grazed their viewscreen. Blast it, Zeen, slow down! Are you crazy? Only way to fly an asteroid field is fast and by the seat of your pants, kid, Zeen Afit said, never taking his eyes from his instruments. If you try and tiptoe in, chances are youll get smashed before you can wipe your nose. I always just fly right in, keepin my eyes open, and Im still here. When they reached the fabled Smugglers Run, Han and Chewbacca warily followed Zeen Afit into Skip 1, to meet the gang, as he called his friends. Han was introduced to a sallow, thin man with scars on his face named Jarril, and another, older man with a receding hairline who incongru-ously went by file name Kid DXoln.

Skip i was a regular warren of rooms, dining halls, gam-bling dens, bars, and drug hideaways. Hah was frankly ner-vous, as he realized that here, even more than on Nar Shaddaa, there was no law. None. He could die here, and no one but Chewie (presuming the Wookiee was still alive himself, an unlikely assumption) would ever know or care. Han was careful not to let any of his nervousness show. He had grown up with lawless peo-ple, had seen plenty of degenerate spirits by the time he was ten. Hed just never encountered quite so many blood-thirsty, desperate lost beings in one place before. As he and Zeen headed for the bar, Hah noticed the runnel of greenish-yellow gooey liquid oozing along a chan nel cut into the middle of the stone floor. Chewbacca snuf-fled, then growled in protest. Yeah, that really stinks, Han said, his nostrils twitching. What the heck is that stuff, Zeen? Its on the walls, too . .

.

Oh, its just the ooze we gotta put up with, kid, the smuggler told him. Stinks, dont it? Every so often we get to thinkin we ought to find out where it comes from and dam it up. Its some kinda proto-organic compound, they say, mixed with sulfur.

Hans nose wrinkled. The ooze smelled like rancid meat mixed with rotting vegetation, laden with a liberal dose of sulfur. Hed smelled worse, but not recently.

As they stepped over the ooze channel and headed over to the bar, Hans attention was caught and held by a beauti-ful woman with long black hair who definitely stood out in the mix of unsavory smuggler types. She wore a short skirt that showed off magnificent legs, and a top that was little more than a cropped shirt tied tightly to show off her bo-som and midriff. Han stared at her, thinking that she was one of the most striking women hed ever seen. Suddenly he realized she was looking back at him. Hah quickly es-sayed his most charming smile.

She walked toward them. Hans pulse skipped a beat, but then he realized she was regarding him with a marked lack of enthusiasm, as though he were a side of traladon meat that had gone green around the edges. Hans smile stiflened on his lips. Guess the attraction isnt mutual . . . Han, Id like you to meet a friend of mine, Zeen said, indicating the woman. Sinewy Ana Blue, one of the top smugglers around. She also runs a wicked sabacc table. Blue, meet Han Solo, a new kid I brought along for the ride. And this is his pal, Chewie.

Hah nodded cordially. Pleasure to meet you-Noting his hesitation over what to call her, she smiled, revealing a shining blue crystal tooth in the front of her mouth. Call me Blue, she said, in a voice that couldnt help being sultry. Han Solo, you said? And-she turned to Hans companion-Chewie? Chewbacca, Han supplied.

Pleased to meet you, Chewbacea, she said. Have you met Wynni yet?

Chewie cocked his head and whined a soft question.

Sinewy Ana Blue smiled at him. Youll know her when you meet her, she promised cryptically. So, Han said, may I buy you a drink . . . Blue? She glanced at him, seemed to consider, then smiled faintly. No, I dont think so, she said. Youre cute, but not my type, Solo. I like them a bit more . . . seasoned.

Zeen snickered. Shes particular, our Blue, he said, noting Hans chagrin at the open rebuff. You young, single types dont offer enough . . . sport. She likes the lure of the chase, especially when its part of the thrill that comes from stealin what dont belong to you.

Sinewy Ana Blue gave Zeen a long, up and down stare. You like to live dangerously these days, dont you? she drawled. Then she turned back to Han. Do you play sabacc, Han Solo? Hah nodded. Ive tried it, he said cautiously.

She gave him a slow, alluring smile. Come around, then. Id love to have some fresh blood in my game. With a final nod to Chewbacca, she turned and walked away. Han watched her go with an admiring headshake. Minions of Xendor . . . that is one fine-looking woman, he muttered. Pure sabacc, Zeen agreed. Prime grade ore.

And she only goes after married guys?

Its just say she prefers the thrill of the hunt, Zeen said. Anyone thats too available, too eager to get caught, isnt challenging enough prey.

You make her sound like a Devaronian fur-spider, Han said, watching Sinewy Ana Blues eminently watchable backside vanish amid the crowd of talking, laughing, drink-ing smugglers. Not too far off, kid, Zeen said with a chuckle and a

wink. Our Blue is one of a kind. SheHe broke off and whirled as a loud roar reverberated through the bar. Han spun on his heel to find a Wookiee standing in the doorway. She was big for a Wookiee female, as tall and muscular as Chewie. Her blue eyes were fixed unblinkingly upon Hans companion, who was busily look-ing anywhere but at the newcomer. Whos that? Hah asked Zeen.

Wynni, the senior smuggler replied with a wink and a leer.

Han and Chewbacca watched as the Wookiee came over to them. She growled a throaty greeting at Chewie, totally ignoring his human companion. Then she reached out one hairy paw and ran it admiringly down Chewbaecas long arm.

Han turned to Zeen. I think she likes him, he said dryly, in Basic. Looks like, Zeen agreed. I think your buddy there is bein offered what you werent, pal. Cept he dont look any too happy about it.

The craggy-faced smuggler was correct. Chewbacca looked around wildly as the female Wookiee pressed up close to him, growling suggestively.

Catching Hans eye, Chewie shook his head in a slight but emphatic movement. Han took pity on his friend. Hey, Chewie, he said loudly, we gotta go.

Wynni turned around and snarled at him. Clearly, she didnt like having her seduction attempt interfered with. Han looked at her and shrugged. Sorry, he said. Weve got somewhere we have to be. A previous engagement.

Wynni plainly didnt believe him. She growled low in her throat.

Han realized that they were drawing a crowd. Kid DXoln, Zeens balding friend, stepped forward. It aint polite to accuse people of lyin, Wynni, he told the Wookiee. Hah here is tellin the truth. I just signed him and his Wookiee pal on to ride as copriot and gunner to Kessel aboard the Starfire. Matter of fact, my droids should be finished loadin our carg o by now, Solo. Lets go. Hah smiled sweetly at Wynni and shrugged, with a What can you do? expression. Chewbacca didnt bother trying to hide how glad he was to get away from the preda-tory female.

As they headed up the corridor toward Skip 1s landing bay, Han gave Kid a grateful smile. Thanks, he said. For a while it looked like I wasnt going to be able to get Chewie out of there without making her mad.

Kid DXoln grinned. Year, and upsettin a lovestruck Wookiee aint exactly a smart thing to do. So, what do you want to do now? You actually up for going on to Kessel with me.) Sure, Han said. Ive always wanted to go to Kessel. Are you going on the Run after you off-load your cargo there?

I dont know, Kid replied. Maybe, if theres a cargo waitin for me to pick up. But theres bound to be some-body you can catch up with wholl take you on the Run.

Hah had heard of the Kessel Run, that ultimate test of a smuggler pilots expertise. Traveling the Kessel Run al-lowed a pilot to shortcut across a large, uninhabited area of space that would otherwise have taken a vessel two days or more to skirt. But the direct route from Kessel back to the standard trade routes lay perilously close to the Maw, a massive collection of black holes that distorted both space and time. Many a ship had been lost to the Maw, lost with all hands.

Once they were safely aboard the Starfire, Kid waved a hand at the controls. I hear youre pretty good, Solo. Want to try takin her through the field?

Hah nodded, his mouth suddenly dry. Remembering Zeens advice, he forced himself to head confidently into the field, instead of holding back. He remembered stories told by the pilots whod been aboard Traders Luck that indicated Zeen had been right-most asteroid fields could be navigated by someone with steely nerves and quick re-flexes. Holding his breath, Han sent the beat-up little freighter skittering from side to side, not slacking off on their speed.

Kid sat back in the pilots seat and just watched. Only once did he interfere, and that was to increase the ships acceleration a notch, to avoid a smaller asteroid that was orbiting a larger one. The bigger asteroid had hidden its small companion. The Starfire zipped by so close that the deflector shields activated and the ship shuddered in pro-test. But they avoided the impact.

Han bit his lip when the chunk of rock, half the size of the ship, tumbled away behind him. Sorry, Kid. I shouldve seen it.

No way you couldve seen it, Solo, the older man said. I just been flying into and out of the Run for so many years that I practically got all these rocks memorized. I knew that one had a baby taggin behind, cause Ive seen it before.

When they finally emerged into clear space, Hah felt as though hed been piloting for a day instead of half an hour. He wanted to slump back into his seat, but a glance at Kid DXoln showed Kid, head tilted back, eyes closed, appar-ently asleep.

Han looked at Chewie, shrugged, and said, Take over a second while I plot us a course to Kessel, pal. Minutes later Han retrieved the final coordinates from the navicomputer, and then finalized his course. He looked over at Kid DXoln. One watery blue eye opened. Punch it, Solo, the raspy voice told him. Han grinned. Sure.

Moments later the bright pinpoints of realspace elon-gated before them, and the Starfire shot down a seeming tunnel of starlines. Han realized he was grinning like a kid. It had been a long time since hed done any real piloting that wasnt just drills.

When hed been in the Navy, hed served shifts as a helmsman on the big Imperial ships, but his favorite duty had been flying TIE fighters. Small, nimble, and deadly, they required pinpoint control to maneuver and fire, but they had no shielding at all, which made them very vulnera-ble. Few TIE pilots lived to grow old.

When the Starfire emerged into realspace, Han took one look at the Maw and drew a quick breath. Kid DXoln, who had finally awakened from his nap, stretched and grinned. Impressive, aint it, Solo? Ill say, Han muttered.

The Maw stretched before them, a collection of black holes that were sucking the life from the nearby stars. Long streamers of gas threaded their way into the monstrous whirlpools of gas and dust that marked the location of the black holes. The holes themselves were invisible, of course. The reason they were called black holes was that their gravity was so strong that nothing, not even light, could escape their pull.

But the gas and dust marked their location. There were quite a few of them. So far as Han knew, the Maw was unique in the galaxy.

Kessels right on the edge, Solo, Kid said. Here, Ill show you the coordinates on the screen. Han studied readouts on the lumpy, misshapen little planet that orbited a small, fierce, blue-white star. Kessel was orbited by its small, solitary moon. The planet isnt even spherical, he muttered. It doesnt mass enough to hold onto an atmosphere.

Yeah, I know. You gotta wear a breath mask there, but they keep a couple of atmosphere-generating plants run-nin, so we wont have to put on vacuum gear, Kid told him. Han frowned down at the readouts. I didnt know Kes-sel had a moon.

Yeah, theres rumors that the Imps have been scouting it, that they might actually build something there. Crazy, if you ask me.

There are Imperial ships around here? Kids revela-tion worried Han. Chewie was still an escaped slave, after all. Theyd just love to recapture him.

Yeah, I ran into a guy who works for Imp security as a snitch, and he told me the Imps are considering putting some kind of big hush-hush installation right smack in the middle of the Maw, Kid said thoughtfully.

Han stared at the whirling vortices of dust and gas that marked the black holes and shook his head. A base? In there? Theyre crazy, all right!

Kid shrugged. Theres more space than youd guess be-tween those black holes. Some smugglers say that you can actually shorten your Kessel Run by skimming close to the Maw. Han frowned as he studied his readouts. You mean make the Run in less time. Kid chuckled, a creaky sound. Well, that, too. But they say that both time and space get warped, distorted so close to the Maw. So you can not only make your run faster, but actually shave off part of the distance.

Whats the record? Han asked curiously.

Dunno, Kid DXoln said. I think its down below ten hours these days, but I never been crazy enough to try for it. Take my advice, and dont play games with the Maw, Solo. Han tended to think Kids advice was good. Skimming the Maw seemed like the act of an idiot-a suicidal idiot.

Hah set the Starfire down on Kessel, and the three smugglers donned breath masks and got out. There was a small cantina that served as a recreation area where pilots and crews could get something to eat and drink while wait-ing for the loading droids to fill their cargo bays. Kid DXoln stayed behind to oversee the loading, leaving Han and Chewie to grab a quick bite. Ten minutes later Han was halfway through a hasty meal and a glass of Po-lanis ale. Privately, he wondered what to do now. Kid DXoln had made it clear that he was bound for parts he preferred to remain unknown-at least to Han when the Starfire was finished loading. The older man had com-mented that he was sure Han could catch a ride back to Smugglers Run, or back to Nar Shaddaa, probably via the Kessel Bun, from here.

Kessel boasted no facilities for overnight guests. Han glanced around when the cantina door opened, and then his eyes widened as he beheld a familiar face.

Boa! he exclaimed, waving at the older man whod just entered and was removing his breathing mask. Hey, Boa!

Cmon over and Ill buy you a drinkV

Boa-if he had another name, Han had never heard it-was a big, stocky man with graying hair and a charming smile. He had a roguish twinkle in his blue eyes, and a sense of humor that made him friends easily. It seemed that everyone on Nar Shaddaa knew Boa, and he knew them. Roa and Mako were old friends, and Boa had been one of the first pals Mako had introduced Han to when hed arrived on Nar Shaddaa.

Boa had been in the smuggling business for more than twenty years, which made him the grand old man of the trade. He enjoyed playing the role of shepherd to some of the younger smugglers, and was generous about sharing what hed learned during his career.

Unlike many of the smugglers, who were little better than pirates, Boa had his own private code that he taught the young smugglers who rode shotgun with him on his old but meticulously maintained speedy freighter, the Way-farer. Roa had taught Han, as hed taught so many others never ignore a call for help . .

. never take from those who are poorer than yourself . . . never play sabacc un-less youre prepared to lose, always be prepared to make a quick getaway . . . never pilot a ship under the influence. Roas Rules, the smugglers called them.

Now, seeing his young friend, Roas friendly, open face broke into a wide grin. Han, whatre you doing here?

Han gestured to the seat beside him. Its a long story, Roa. Mostly we wound up here because a female Wookiee took too much of a liking to Chewie, here.

Roa chuckled as he threw a leg across the bar stool.

Chewbacca, dont tell me you got to meet Wynni!

Chewie moaned aloud, rolling his blue eyes expressively. Roa guffawed. Oh, cmon, Chewie, how bad could it be, entertaining an amorous lady Wookiee?

Chewbacca snorted, then launched into a vivid explana-tion of how strenuous-and, at times, hazardous-Wookiee romance could be. Han could understand him, of course, but it was obvious that Roa was barely getting the gist of it.

The older smugglers eyebrows went up, then he shook his head when Chewie finished. All right, sounds like you did the right thing by beating a hasty retreat, Chewbacca! Remi nd me never to attract Wynnis attention.

Han grinned. Me neither, he said, then sobered. Problem is, were stranded here now. Kid DXoln brought us, but hes heading out of here on some private business, and he doesnt need a crew. So Im lookin for a ride back to Nar Shaddaa. Any chance we can catch one with you, Roa? The older man smiled. Sure, Han. Only trouble is, were not going directly back. Ive got a load of spice to take on to Myrkr. How does Nar Shaddaa by way of the Kessel Run strike you? Hans eyes lit up. That would be great! I cant really get the top piloting assignments until Ive got a Run or two under my belt. Roa . . . any chance youd let me pilot, and coach me through it? The older man grinned. Depends, Solo.

On what?

How many drinks you buy me.

Han chuckled, and waved to the bar droid for fresh am-munition. Tell me about the Bun, he said. I think Im ready.

As Boa explained it, the Kessel Run took ships traveling in realspace from the Kessel sector past and around the Maw, then through a rough, uninhabited sector of space known as the Pit. The Pit wasnt as hard to navigate as the Maw, but more ships had actually been lost there than near the Maw, because after successfully making it past the black-hole cluster, pilots tended to be tired, their reflexes slowed. And just when they needed to rest, the Pit was waiting for them.

The Pit contained a scattered asteroid field that wasnt nearly as concentrated as the one surrounding Smugglers Run, but it was encased inside a wispy arm of a nebula. The gas and dust from the nebula tended to make most ships sensors imprecise, and the pilots line-of-sight was seriously compromised. Zigging in and out of the gauzy tendrils of the nebula was a confusing, ehancy business, and there was always the chance that when a pilot zigged to avoid one asteroid, hed zag right into another. Boa explained all of this to Han, then took him back to the Wayfarer and showed him a complete schematic of their course from the navicomputer. Han studied it all in-tently, then nodded. Okay. I think I can handle it, Boa.

The Wayfarers captain gave him a long, measuring glance, then nodded. Okay, son. Go ahead. Take us out.

Han nodded, then his world narrowed into the view-screen, his coordinates, his controls, and his hands and eyes. He felt almost like a bio droid, someone who could link his nervous system into the ship. It was as though Han had become the ship-as though they were one entity.

Flying past the center of the Maw, Hah was acutely conscious that the slightest mistake on his part could result in disaster for the Wayfarer. He felt sweat break out on his forehead as he manipulated the controls, avoiding gravita-tional eddies and anomalies. Beside him, in the copilots seat, he could sense Roas tension, though the stocky older man made no sound. Behind him, Chewbacca whined softly, a thin thread of sound in the otherwise silent control cabin.

The Maw was all around them now as they skirted the dangerous black-hole clusters. Han knew that it would be possible to make the Run by looping wide around this en-tire perilous sector, but the cost-m fuel, in time, and in the extra distance that had to be traveled-made negotiat-ing the obstacle course of the Maw worthwhile. Barely.

So far, Roa had not spoken as Hah took the Wayfarer along the twisting, tricky course that was the shortest safe way through the Maw. Han figured that must mean he was doing all right. He tried to take a deep breath as they sped past a whorl of bluish gas and dust, but it was as though a durasteel band was tightening around his chest.

When Roa spoke softly in the silent cabin, the sound made Han jump. Past the halfway point. Good job, lad. Watch this one coming up. Its a bit tricky.

Hah nodded, and felt a greasy drop of sweat slide past his eyebrow. He flipped Wayfarer up on her side as they hurtled past the whirlpool of cosmic dust that had once been a star. Nearly an hour later, when Han felt as though he hadnt drawn a deep breath for the whole trip, they were out of the Maw and entering the Pit.

An asteroid whizzed by. Han throttled back a bit as he tried to watch every direction at once, wishing for eyes in the back of his head like a Moloskian.

Roas voice was sharp. Hard to port!

Hah caught barely a glimpse of the onrushing asteroid, the size of a mountain. His sweaty hand found the control to implement Roas order-and slipped!

Panic erupted in Hans chest as he clamped slick fingers onto the controls, overcompensating and causing them to nearly skid into the path of yet another asteroid!

Chewbacca howled, and Roa cursed. Han managed to miss the chunk of rock by the skin of his teeth. Sorry, he said tightly. Fingers slipped.

Without another word, Roa reached into a storage bin and pulled something out. Here. My present for making it past the Maw. Ill take over while you put era on.

Han grabbed the pair of pilots gloves with their nonslip finger pads and tugged them on, snapping them securely into place. He flexed his fingers. Thanks, Roa.

Dont mention it, tile older smuggler said. I always wear em, and I suggest you do, too. Hah nodded. I will.

Several hours later, when Hah had finished his first Kes-sel Run, and they were relaxing in the relative safety of hyperspace, Roa leaned back in the copilots seat. So, he said, I have to say, Ive never seen anyone fly the Run any smoother on his first try, Han. Youre a natural, son. Hah grinned at his friend. Youre a good coach. Chewbacca commented sourly that he wouldnt have ob-jected to a bit more coaching from Roa-Han had fright-ened him so badly it was a wonder his hair hadnt fallen out. Hah turned around and glared at his furry friend. Hey, just keep it up, and Ill give Wynni our home address the next time I see her.

Chewie subsided into glaring silence.

So, what are you going to do now, Han? Roa asked. Not every smuggler can brag that hes flown tile Kessel Run, and you made it in excellent time. Whats your next move? Han had been thinking about that. I want a ship of our own for me and Chewie, he told Roa. First Ill have to lease one, of course, but then maybe someday Ill find one I can buy. But Ill need a pile of credits, Roa. So when I get back to Nar Shaddaa, Im going where the credits are. Roas eyebrows went up. The Hutts, he said.

Han checked his stabilizers. YealL the Hutts.

Roa shook his head, frowning. Vorking for the Hurts has its dangers, Han. Hutts make risky employers. Dis-please them, and you can end up swimming through vac-uum without a suit. Han nodded. Yeah, he agreed bleakly. Ive worked for them before. But to make the big money, youve got to be willing to take those risks . . .

Two weeks and yet another bounty hunter later, Hah and Chewbacca walked up to the largest building in the Hutt section of Nar Shaddaa. Once a luxury hotel, The Jewel was now headquarters to the Desilijic kajidic.

When The Jewel had been a hotel, the management had boasted that it could provide quarters for over half the known sentient races in the galaxy. Aquatic beings, meth-ane breathers, and beings who could only be comfortable in low gravity-The Jewel had accommodated them all, and more. As he approached the old building, Han could see that it had been vastly remodeled to suit its new tenants. The giant lobby area was now festooned with glide ramps lead-ing to higher levels. The carpeting had been pulled up, and the stone floors were polished to a brilliant shine to ease a Hutts passage when gliding along.

Han checked, for the fourth time, that he had Tagtas message cube safely in his pocket. He glanced over at Chewbacca. You dont have to come in, pal. I can probably handle this interview myself. Chewies only response was a firm shake of his head.

Han shrugged. Okay, then, but let me do the talking.

Jiliacs majordomo on Nar Shaddaa proved to be a hu-man woman, a striking redhead who was approaching mid-dle years. She wore a simple green gown, modest in cut. Hah was impressed by her dignity and presence as She introduced herself. I am Dielo, Lord Jiliacs assistant. You said that you had a letter of recommendation, sir?

Hah nodded, feeling rather shabby by comparison, even though hed worn his best pants, shirt, and jacket. Inside he felt defensive, but hed learned long ago never to show discomfort or nerves. So his insouclant smile never wa-vered, and not the slightest crack showed in his air of casual bravado. Yes, I do. May I see it?

Sure, long as you dont leave with it. Han produced the small holocube, handed it to her. She glanced quickly at the greenish smear on the side, scanned the message, then nodded. Very well, she said, handing the holocube back. Please wait here. I will call you in presently. Forty-five minutes later, she reappeared and ushered Hah into lord Jiliacs audience chamber. Han was a little nervous, wondering whether Jiliac the Hutt would recognize him as one of the messengers who, five years ago, had delivered a message to him in his palace on Nal Hutta. The message had come from Jiliacs arch-rival, Zavval. The Ylesian overlord had challenged Jiliac and threatened him with dire consequences. When hed heard it, Jiliac had flown into a rage and wrecked a large portion of his audience hall.

Han hoped the Hutt Lord wouldnt recognize him. Hed never told Jiliac his name, after all. Besides, he was no longer nineteen . . . he looked different. His face was thinner, older, and hed put on weight and muscle from his time in the Academy. Not to mention that in all probability most humans looked pretty much alike-to a Hutt.

Still, Hans mouth was dry as he stepped through tile door into the innermost chamber. Han was surprised to see two Hurts in the room. One was nearly twice the size of the other, which Han knew meant that it was older. Hutts grew throughout their life spans, and some of them reached impressive proportions indeed. The average Hutt underwent several growth spurts after reaching adulthood. Han had heard that some of them could more than double in size in a matter of a few years. Han squinted at the Hutts. He was pretty sure that Jiliac was the larger of the two. The room was huge and ornate; this audience chamber had evidently been the hotels main ballroom. Mirrors lined the walls, and Hah caught sight of himself on both sides. When Hah finally stood before the two Hutts, he bowed deeply. Dielo waved a hand at him and spoke in passable Huttese. Lord Jiliac, this is the Corellian pilot your cousin I_x)rd Tagta recommended to you. His name is Hah Solo. The Wookiee is named Chewbacca.

Han bowed again. Lord Jiliac, he said, in Basic, it is a privilege to meet you, Your Excellency. Your cousin Lord Tagta says that you are always in need of good pilots.

Pilot Solo-Jiliac turned bulbous eyes layered in fat upon Han, and peered down at him with faint curiositydo you speak and understand Huttese?

I understand it, Your Excellency. I do not speak it well enough to convey the beauty of the language, therefore it is not proper for me to attempt to utter it, Han said ear-nestly. Fortunately, Hutts were easy to flatter, and this one bought it. Ah, a human that understands the beauty of our language, Jiliac said, turning to the smaller Hutt. Truly an insightful and sensitive member of his species.

That isnt saying much, the other Hutt replied with a deep chuckle. I wonder if Captain Solo can pilot as well as he dissembles?

Han glanced over at the younger, smaller Hutt. Sharp intelligence shone in his narrow-pupiled eyes. He was about Hans height, and only about four or five meters long. Jiliac noticed Han looking at his companion.

Captain Solo, this is my nephew, Jabba. He has become indispensable to me in rnnning the Desilijic kajidic.

Han bowed to the younger Hutt. Greetings, Your Ex-cellency.

Greetings, Captain Solo, Jabba replied with a gracious wave of his small hand. Your reputation precedes you.

Jiliac held out his own hand. Enough chitchat. Tile holocube, Captain? Certainly, Your Excellency. Han produced it, handed it to Jiliac.

The Hutt Lord examined the holocube for several min-utes, then passed a small scanning device over the green smear. Finally satisfied, he looked at Hah. You come highly recommended, Captain. We can always use expert pilots.

Han nodded. Id like to work for you and your nephew, Your Excellency. Very well, then you are hired, Captain. But what about your companion here? Jiliac indicated Chewbacca. Were a team, Your Excellency. Chewie is my copilot. Indeed? said Jabba. He looks more like a bodyguard to me.

Han could feel Chewie stiffen next to him, and he felt, more than heard, the soft rumble of anger emanating from his furred chest. Chewies a good pilot, Han insisted. These are perilous times for honest business persons, Jiliac pointed out. Is one of you trained in weapons sys-tems?

Im the gunner, Your Excellency, Han said. Chewie is a pretty fair shot, I admit, but Im better. Ah! Jabba sounded delighted. Finally, a human who does not deluge us with his silly notion of modesty. Glad you approve, Han said dryly.

Kessel, Jiliac said thoughtfully. Our sources say you have been to Kessel. Han nodded. Yes, Your Excellency. And I did the Run in nearly record time, my first time through. Excellent! boomed Jabba, who had a voice nearly as deep as his far larger uncle. He chuckled, a low ho-ho-ho sound. Then you are willing to tackle the Kessel Run while hauling cargo for us? Depends on the cargo, Your Excellency, Han said.

We have no way to determine, at this time, what the

cargo will be, Jiliac said. Obviously, you will leave Kessel

carrying a cargo of spice, probably glitterstim, for Kessel is

where that spice is mined. But as to what you will be carrying when you land on Kessel, that is bound to vary a great deal. Food, luxuries, a shipment of slaves, orNo slaves, Han interrupted curtly. He had to make this clear. If they dumped him over it, hed keep on looking for work. Ill haul most anything for you, Your Excellency. But not slaves. Both Hutts stared at Hah, obviously taken aback by his temerity. Finally Jabba spoke. Why not, Captain Solo?

Personal reasons, Your Excellency, Hah said. Ive seen slavery up close-and I didnt like it. Oho! Jabba chuckled again. Our brave captain has scruples . . . morals, even, perhaps!

Han refused to be baited. He just stood his ground. Jiliac made a curt gesture to Hah to stay where he was, then he and the younger Hutt wriggled toward each other. Watching them move, Han couldnt decide whether they reminded him more of a snake or a slug. They undulated along, using muscular contractions to move.

The two Hutts put their heads together and conferred. After a couple of minutes, they broke apart and turned back to Han and Chewie. Very well, Captain Solo, Jiliac boomed, we will not assign you to transport slaves.

Thank you, Your Excellency, Han said, feeling a wash of relief.

Slaving is not a large part of our business, Jabba said, with a touch of scorn in his voice. We leave most of that trade to the Besadii kajidic that operates out of Ylesia.

Have you ever heard of Ylesia, Captain Solo? Jiliac asked.

Han tensed, but kept it from showing. Yes, Ive heard of it, Your Excellency. Our main shipment these days is ryll, Captain, Jabba said. We have just discovered a new source to trade with on Ryloth, the Twilek world. Have you been there?

Yes, Your Excellenc I have. I know the spacelanes in that area.

Good, Jabba said. He studied Han closely with his huge, rarely blinking eyes. Tell me, Captain, have you ever piloted a space yacht?

Han had to stifle an ironic grin. The reason all these bounty hunters were after him was that in addition to swip-ing the cream of Teroenzas treasure, hed stolen Zavval and Teroenzas personal space yacht. Yes, Your Excellency, Han said. I have.

Jabba regarded Hah thoughtfully. I shall keep that in mind.

Jiliac made a dismissive gesture. We shall be in touch, Captain. At the moment, you have our leave to depart.

Han bowed to the Hutts, and as he did so, he surrepti-tiously gave his Wookiee friend a poke. Chewbaeca growled softly, but he, too, bobbed his upper body forward. Han left the audience, feeling sweat trickling down be-tween his shoulder blades. Slowly, carefully, he let out a deep sigh of relief.

This had better be worth it . . .

During the next three months, Hah worked for Roa on and off, but he also flew many missions for the Hutts. He developed a reputation for being able to coax top speeds out of even inferior vessels, and for being willing to do whatever it took to get his smuggled cargo through to its destination. He flew the Kessel Run so many times he lost count. There were times when the Hutts didnt need him for days or weeks at a time, and he took assignments from Mako, Roa, or other employers. But Jiliac and Jabba pro-vided him with fairly steady work, and most of his income. Both Jiliac and Jabba had personal space yachts. Han discovered that each of them had sizable holdings on other worlds than Nal Hutta-matter of fact, Jiliac was the de facto ruler of Dilbana, and Jabba was the top crime lord on a backwater world called Tatooine.

One day Han and Chewie were called upon to pilot Jabbas personal yacht, the Star Jewel, to Tatooine. Hah wouldve rather hauled spice, frankly. Jabba was tempera-mental and used to getting his own way, and made a de-manding, irascible passenger. Han was glad that the Hutt had brought several of his personal servants along to tend to him, so that all he, Hah, had to do was pilot the ship. Foremost among Jabbas entourage was a Twilek valet named Lobb Gerido. Jabba treated Gerido terribly, order-ing him around, snapping at him, and insulting him. Han was just glad that he didnt have to put up with that sort of thing. Jabbas entourage also included several humanoid dancing girls, a nalargon player nicknamed Whizz-Bang and Jabbas and Jiliacs chef from their residence on Nar Shaddaa, an Ishi Tib named Totoplat.

The purpose of Jabbas voyage was to transport a pet hed recently acquired to his palace on Tatooine. The thing was a nightmare-slashing claws, a huge suckerlike mouth, and an insatiable appetite. Han discovered it was called an Oskan blood eater. Hans stomach turned over the one time he watched its keeper feed it. The entire hold area stank from the creatures occupation. It was a messy eater, and its effiuvia was enough to gag a Corellian corpse-grub.

The yacht was a big ship, a Ubrikkian cruiser. It was fast, powered by a pair of Ubrikkian N2 ion engines, with auxil-iary power provided by three smaller Kuat T-c40 ion en-gines. It was also well shielded and heavily armed with six turbolasers. In its docking bay was space for six Z-95 Head-hunter fighters, as well as two small landing shuttles.

This trip, as happened frequently, Star Jewel was down to two Headhunters, with two pilots to crew them. The little fighters were tough, but they had no hyperdrive, and Jabba was known to order them deployed as a rear guard while he took off into hyperspace. Jabba was tough on Headhunters and their pilots.

Tatooine was a remote world, back of beyond, and Han had to make several hyperspace jumps to reach it. His next-to-last jump put him into a little-traveled spacelane, but it was the most direct route to Tatooine.

Thats where the pirate ships were waiting for them. Four Drell teardrop-shaped vessels, sleek and shining, small but deadly. Hah had faced their like before, when hed been piloting for the Ylesians. The moment he saw them his mental alarm bells went off. Pirates!?! They cntM be! Be tter to be safe than sorry . . .

Chewie, shields on maximum! Han snapped, sending the yacht into an evasive maneuvering pattern while his copriot adjusted their deflectors to maximum strength. Han flipped on the comm unit. Attention!

Gunnery crew, stand ready! We may be seeing some action! He switched fre-quencies. Headhunter pilots, report to your snubs! This is not a drill!

Even as the words left his mouth, the closest ship spat a salvo of quad laser fire at them. I was right! Han mentally congratulated himself. Thanks to his caution, the Drell ships fire went wide. The ships were only a third the size of Jabbas massive space yacht, but their quad laser cannons spat deadly bursts at the bigger ship as they rushed in at top speed. They were so small they were going to be difficult to hit. Han banked the Star Jewel around and yelled, Gunnery crew . . . fire at will!

Even as the crews manning the yachts six heavy turbo-lasers began returning fire, Han switched to another corem frequency. Attention, passengers and crew-we are under attack! Prepare for evasive maneuvers. Activate your re-straint systems.

Beside him Chewie was performing his job ably, leaving the piloting mostly to Han, but busy balancing and distrib-uting power to their shields, monitoring the ships status, checking on how much power they could channel to the weapons. The Hutt yachts turbolasers, mounted discreetly beneath the ridge of the yachts superstructure, actually tapped directly into the ships power core, thus giving them far more destructive capability than any opponent would expect.

Hah dodged an incoming DreU ship, saw the turbolasers fire a vicious burst at the oncoming vessel, but at the last moment it dodged the fire. Blasted little ships are too fast!

His comm unit crackled. Heaclhunters here. Ready for launch.

Chewie opened the cargo-bay doors, and dropped one shield amidships so the two fighters could launch.

Han activated the comm. Pilots . . . launch on my or-der! Three . . . two . . . one . . . NOW!

Jabba was hollering over the cornre, demanding an ex-planation. Han could hear wails and curses from the Twilek and the dancing girls. Totoplat, the cook, was fuss-ing that Jabbas dinner was ruined, just ruined!

With a muttered curse, Han spared half a second to close the comm channel from the passenger section. When he looked back up, he paled.

Incoming amidships, Chewie! he yelled, knowing this time he couldnt evade fast enough. The Star Jewel shud-dered violently, then shuddered again. Han realized the first ship had swung around and was now firing on their stern! He cursed when he saw that his rear deflectors were nearly gone. Chewie! Im coming about! Compensate for that shield!

Activating the comm, Han shouted, Im coming about, hard to port! You guys get that blasted pirate off my rear!

The Wookiee snarled as he worked frantically on the shields. Han sent the Star Jewel into a hard port turn, then a second later he felt the faint jolts as the gunners fired. Another miss!

Han cursed and activated the comm. Listen up, you guys! I want portside gunner one to target the following coordinates, and fire on my order!

Glancing at his sensors, Han located the position of the first Drell ship, saw that it had swung far out, then turned and was coming back for another run. Han checked his X-Y coordinate grids and made a rapid calculation. He spat out a string of coordinates.

Coordinates acknowledged, sir! the portside gunnery chief said.

Gunner two, target the following coordinates and fire your burst five seconds after gunner one! Got that.; Han reeled off another string of coordinates. We copy, Captain!

Gunner three, target the following coordinates and fire your weapon five seconcks after gunner one. Again, Han gave the prescribed coordinates. Yes, Captain! Ready! Okay . . . gunner one . . . prepare to fire!

What Hah was attempting was a military technique called a limited barrage pattern. It was designed to make a ship dodge a burst of fire, only to run right into another blast. Tricky, but if they could get the timing right . . .

Han counted seconds in his head as he angled his stern slightly toward the Drell, offering the most tempting target he could. Three . . . two . . . one/ Portside gunner one-fire!

The deadly beam shot out, but as Hah had figured, the agile Drell vessel evaded the blast. Fimr. . . three... two... one... Han counted, watching the portside viewscreen. Yes! he shouted as the evading ship ran straight into the blast from portside gun two!

Incandescent white fire blossomed against the black-heSS.

You got him!

Cheers erupted from the corem unit.

The Headhunters were zeroing in on another of the Drell ships. Stuttering bursts from their lasers shone red against the star-speckled blackness.

Han could only spare a glance for the snubfighters and their battle. He sent the Star Jewel hurtling toward the two remaining Drell ships, then spoke into tile comm. Star-board gunners, prepare to fire continuous bursts on my order. Coordinates are . . . Glancing at his board, he gave them a string of numbers. He watched as the two Drell ships came about for an-other attack run, then began hurtling toward the yacht at full speed. Starboard gunners, fire at maximum... not/3!

The three powerful turbolasers blasted away into empty space. Those captains are gonna think Ive lost my mind, Hah thought as he counted the bursts from his starboard battery, mentally timing their pounding rhythm. What he was planning required pinpoint timing.

As the Drells reached firing range, Han wrenched his controls, rolling the big ship to port, turning it up on its side.

Seeing that Han hadnt lost his mind after all, the Drell pirates scattered wildly, trying to evade the bursts from the turbolasers that were now aiming directly at them!

One Drell pirate managed to evade, but the other one was trapped in the middle of the full barrage pattern. The blast from starboard gun two caught it dead center.

This time, the Star Jewel was close enough to the explo-sion to lose a starboard deflector when it was repeatedly pummeled by wreckage. Han watched the indicators on his instruments leap as the Hutt yacht sheered through the zone of destruction, then out the other side.

He glanced at the port viewscreen. The other Drell ship was slowly spinning, a huge hole blown in its side. Only one of the Headhunters was visible. The fourth Drell ship, the one that had escaped tile barrage pattern, was hightailing it.

Han considered giving chase, but he knew the pirate had too much of a headstart. Instead he turned the yacht and headed back to pick up the remaining Headhunter.

By the time he remembered to flick the comm unit back on, Jabbas threats and imprecations had died away. Han cleared his throat. Were okay, Your Excellency. Hope I didnt jounce you around too much back there.

My precious cargo is upset! Jabba grumbled. I may have to sacrifice one of my dancers to appease his appetite. Blood eaters are sensitive creatures, Solo!

Uh . . . yessir. Sorry about that, sir. But I had to fight. Otherwise wed have been blown out of space. Those pi-rates werent just looking for loot and salvage, Your Excel-lency. They knew we were coming. They were waiting at exactly the right spot to intercept a ship making the last leg of a trip to Tatooine. Really? Jabbas petulant tones suddenly hardened. Now the crime lord was all business. What do you think they were attempting to do, Captain?

Disable or destroy us, Your Excellency, Hah said, opening the landing-bay doors so the one remaining Head-hunter could limp in. I believe they were after you, sir.

Another assassination attempt... Jabba sounded very thoughtful. Han knew that devious mind was working at lightspeed.

I think so, sir.

Interesting, Jabba grunted. Captain, may I ask where you learned those . . . unorthodox . . . maneuvers? At the Imperial Academy, Your Excellency.

I see. They proved most useful, I must admit. You are to be doubly commended for foiling this cowardly attempt to murder me, Captain Solo. Remind me of that when we return to Nar Shaddaa. You bet, Han promised.

Solo knows something, Jabba the Hutt said to his Un-cle Jiliac two weeks later as they shared a light repast in the small lounge that adjoined Jiliacs audience chamber on Nar Shaddaa. Jiliac reached into his elegant combination snack-quarium and water pipe-a gift from the tong-dead Zav-val-and extracted a wriggling morsel. Holding the frantic creature in midair, he regarded it absently. Really? he said after a moments silent consideration. Knows what?

Jabba wriggled closer to the snackquarium and, at a wave from his clan lord, reached in for a choice little snack. Green slime gathered at the corners of his mouth as he anticipated the delicious rubbery warmth of the little am-phibian sliding down his gullet. Even with this distraction, he was still able to focus on Jiliacs question. Jabba was nothing if not practical.

I dont know, he said. I suspect the only way to find out is to ask him. Ask him what? demanded Jiliac as Jabba popped the treat into his mouth. Glunk . . . Jabba swallowed noisily before answering, Ask him how he knew to react so quickly with those Drell ships. Ships log showed he was tracking with his weapons systems and taking evasive maneuvers even before they fired on us. How did Solo know those DreU ships meant trouble? We have hired Drell pirates ourselves, in the past, Jiliac reminded him. The question we must ask is, was this attack one from within our clan, or from outside? He folded his small hands together on the swell of his belly-folds. Make no mistake, nephew. There are those within Desilijic who would wrest the leadership of the kajidic from me . . .

True, Jabba agreed. But I do not think this was an attack from within the kajidic. My informant s assure me that the entire clan was pleased with our profit ratio last quarter. Then who do you think was behind the attack? Jiliac asked.

Besadii, Jabba replied flatly.

Jiliac cursed. Naturally. They are the only ones who have sufficient funds to hire the Drell pirates. Blast them! The Hutt Lords massive tail whipped back and forth on the polished floor. Nephew, Aruk grows above himself. Ylesian trade is making Besadii so wealthy they are becom-ing a personal danger, not simply an economic threat. We must act . . . and soon. This threat to Desilijic must not go unpunished. Agreed, Uncle, Jabba said, after swallowing another Serendina wriggler. But what should we do? Ve need more information, Jiliac decided. Then we can plan our retaliation. Flicking on the comm unit, he said, Dielo!

Immediately the response came back. I am here, Your Magnificence. What do you wish? Summon Solo to us, Jiliac ordered. We wish to speak with him.

Immediately, Ird Jiliac, Dielo replied.

It was several hours before Solo appeared, and Jabba and Jiliac were growing increasingly annoyed at having to wait by the time the Corellian entered the audience cham-ber. He was accompanied, as always, by his tall, hairy com-panion.

Both Hutts looked him over in silence for several min-utes. Solo shifted a little, and Jabba sensed that he was uneasy, though, for a human, he hid anxiety well.

Greetings, Solo, Jiliac finally intoned in his deepest, most intimidating voice. The Corellian Captain bowed. Greetings, Your Excel-lency. What can I do for you? We want the truth, Jabba said, not waiting for Jiliac to mince around the subject. Jabba enjoyed being direct, and putting other sentients on the spot. You can give us the truth. Jabbas eyesight was sharp, and Hutts could see farther into the infrared than humans could. He watched the blood ebb from Solos face as he paled, though his expression did not change. The Wookiee shifted uneasily and whined softly.

Uh, Your Impressiveness . . . Solo wet his lips. Im

afraid I dont understand. Tile truth about what7

Jabba didnt mince words. Ive reviewed the Star Jewels log. Captain, how did you know the Drell pirates were waiting to attack us?

Solo hesitated, then drew a deep breath. Ive run into an ambush from pirates in Drell-built cruisers before, he said. And I know that you, Jiliac, and you, Jabba, have enemies that are wealthy enough to hire assassins.

Jiliac was staring hard at the young Corellian. When did you encounter such an ambush, Captain? he asked slowly. Five years ago, Your Excellency.

Jabba leaned forward. And who were you working for when you encountered them, Solo? The Corellian smuggler hesitated, then said quietly, I was working for Zavval, sir. On Ylesia. Jiliacs eyes widened. Yes . . . my memory is stirring. Was it ym that brought me my snackquarium? I remember the Sullustan, but humans look so much alike . . .

Yes, sir, that was me, Han said. Jabba could tell that it cost him something to admit the truth. Why didnt you tell us this before? Jiliac asked, his voice as cold as a Hothah glacier. What are you hiding, Captain?

Nothing! Solo protested, shaking his head. Listen, this is the truth, Your Excellency! I wanted to work for you, but I thought you wouldnt like it if you knew Id worked for Besadii clan---even just piloting spice freighters. So I didnt mention it, thats all! His brown eyes blazed, and he waved his arms to emphasize his point. Truth is, I actually worked for Teroenza. I barely knew Zavval. Im sorry if you thought any different, Your Excellency.

Jiliac gazed down at the Corellian from his dais. You are correct, Solo. I would not have hired you had I known this.

Silence. Solo had no answer save a shrug.

Jiliac considered for a moment. Are you still working for them?

No, Your Excellency, Solo said. Im willing to testify to that under truth drug. Or you can take glitterstim and scan me. I left Ylesia five years ago, and I never want to go back. Jabba turned to his uncle. Uncle, it occurs to me that Solo is probably telling the truth. If he were still working for Besadii at present, he hardly would have fought so val-iantly to save the Star Jewel and me, would he? Instead our brave captain would have heaved my ship to and allowed it to be boarded and me killed. The smaller Hutt gazed at the Corellian solemnly. Therefore, unless Besadii is far more subtle and clever than I believe them to be, our cap-tain is telling the truth. Solo nodded. I am, Your Excellency! Matter of fact, I got no use for Ylesia and those who run it. You know what I think of slavers and the slave trade-and Besadiis the big-gest exporter of slaves in the galaxy.

True, Jabba said. Captain Solo, now that my uncle has identified you as one of the messengers from Zavval, my own memory has been refreshed. Very soon after that threat from Zavval, we received reports that there had been an uprising on Ylesia. The glitterstim factory was destroyed, Zavval was killed in an armed attack, and severa] slaves were rescued. Two ships were stolen. Jabba watched Solos face intently for his reaetion, but the Corellian smuggler revealed nothing. Captain, Jiliac said, we were told that a human . . . one Vykk Draygo, was single-handedly responsible for the conflict on Ylesia. We were also told that Vykk Draygo was reported killed by bounty hunters soon afterward. What do you know of all this?

Solo shifted, and now Jabba could tell he was struggling

to make a decision. Finally, he nodded. I know a lot about

it, he admitted. Im Vykk Draygo,

Jabba and Jiliac exdmnged a long look. Did you kill Zavval? Jabba said, in his deepest, most intimidating voice.

Not really . . . Solo wet his lips. I just . . . it was an accident, sort of. Hey . . . it wasnt my fault!

Both Hutts looked at each other again, then burst out

into boonling roars of laughter. Ho-ho-HO! Jabba

shouted. Solo, for a human you are a rare sentienfi

The Corellian seemed taken aback. Youre not mad cause I caused a Hutt to die? Zavval threatened me, Jiliac reminded the Corellian. He and his clan caused Desilijic many problems, and cost us some lives. Hurts prefer to ruin enemies by stripping them of their wealth, Captain, but we are not above assassi-nation as a means to rid ourselves of a problem.

Jabba watched as Solo visibly relaxed. Oh. Well, hu-mans do that, too, sometimes. Really? Jiliac seemed surprised. Then perhaps there is hope for your species after all, Captain Solo. The Corellian smiled wryly. Jabba recognized the ex-pression because he was so used to having humans attend him.

However, Jabba said, waving a cautionary finger, it would not do for it to become generally known that a hu-man killed a Hutt and remained unmolested, Captain. If you ever divulge the truth to anyone else . . . we will have to see that you are silenced. Permanently. Do we under-stand each other? Solo nodded silently, obviously impressed by Jabbas threat.

So... Jiliac was all business once more. You worked for Besadii, Captain Solo. What can you tell us about them?

Well, I was there about five years ago, Solo cautioned.

But living on Ylesia is something I could hardly forget.

Who gave you your orders, Solo? Jabba asked.

Teroenza, the human replied. He really runs the place, being High Priest and all. Teroenza? Tell us about him, Jabba instructed.

Well, hes a tlanda Til, the Corellian said. You know what they are, right? Both Hutts indicated that they did. Well, Teroenza re-ports to his Hutt overlord, the way he did to Zavval when I was there, Solo said. But hes the one who makes the decisions, and who oversees the day-to-day administration of the Ylesian colonies. Teroenzas pretty smart, and hes an efficient administrator. I gather profits were pretty good-though Im sure they had a bad year after I destroyed the glitterstim factory.

At the thought of the destruction of so much valuable property and spice, both Hutts winced. Solo shrugged again. Yeah, it bothered me, too. But I needed a diver-sion. How did Zavval really die?

The ceiling collapsed on him, Solo said. While we

were raiding Teroenzas treasure room we got caught,

and--Jabbas eyes narrowed. Treasure room? What trea-sure?

Thats what we called it, Solo explained. Teroenzas a really single-minded collector of rare things-art, antiqui-ties, weapons, musical instruments, furniture, jewelry. You name it, and hes got some. Hes built a big room to house his collection down in the bowels of the Administration Building on Ylesia. He lives for his collection, cause theres not much to do on Ylesia. Its mostly jungle. I see . . . Jiliae said thoughtfully, with a sideways glance at Jabba. The younger Hutt could tell that his un-des mind was busily churning out a plot based on the information Solo had just given them. Jiliac continued to question Solo about the spice facto-ries on Ylesia, how the operation was set up, how many guards there were, etc. Jabba listened with interest. His uncle was an experienced and devious leader of the kajidic. What did he have in mind now?

Finally, Jiliac dismissed the Corellian, and Solo and the Wookiee turned and left the audience chamber. So, Uncle, Jabba said, what are you thinking? Jiliac slowly took his hookah out of the bottom of the snackquarium and began puffing on it. Jabba smelled the sweetish odor of marcan herbs, a mild euphoric drug. It was several minutes before the kajidie leader spoke. Jabba, my nephew, I am thinking that all this enmity between Besadii and Desilijic must cease. Sooner or later one of their attempts against us will succeed, and that would be a tragedy.

I agree, Jabba said, feeling his hide prickle as he imag-ined what an assassins vibroblade would do to him. Or perhaps theyd just du mp him into vacuum without a suit . . he shuddered at file thought. But what can we do? I believe we should call for an inter-clan meeting, to be held on neutral ground, Jiliac said slowly, between puffs. And that we should offer a nonviolence pact to Besadii. Will they accept it? Jabba couldnt see why they should.

Aruk is no fool. He will at least appear to accept it, Nephew.

Jabba knew there had to be more to it than that. What is behind this request? he asked slowly. Jabba knew he himself was a clever Hutt, but sometimes Jiliac could be downright devious. My agenda for this meeting will include a request for up-to-date profit disclosure on both sides, Jiliae said. And a request for income equalization.

Besadii will never agree to that!

I know. But it is a valid reason for requesting profit disclosure, and Besadii will recognize that. And you think Besadii will share their information with US?

I believe they will, Nephew. Aruk will enjoy the chance to flaunt their profit margins before Desilijic. Jabba nodded. He will, you are correct.

I believe that he will take this chance to bring in the leadership of Ylesia in order to validate their figures, so Aruk can boast about their profits. Who is the current overseer? Kibbick is in charge of the Ylesian operation.

But Kibbick is an idiot, Jabba pointed out. Hed met the younger Hutt before, at an inter-kajidic conference.

True, Jiliac said. My guess is that the true leader of Ylesia will also be summoned to report. Jabbas eyes widened, then narrowed, at the thought. He chuckled aloud. I begin to see your drift, Uncle

. . .

Jiliac puffed serenely on his hookall. The corners of his wide, lipless mouth turned up. Teroenza was relaxing in his sling when the most famous bounty hunter in the Empire arrived to see him. Ganar Tos came hurrying into the tlanda Tils inner sanctum, twisting his warty green hands anxiously. Sir!

Your Excellency! Boba Fett is here, and says you are paying him to come for a personal interview! Is that true, sir?

Yesssss . . . the High Priest of Ylesia said, his breath puffing out in a long hiss as he struggled up out of his sling to stand upon all four pillarlike feet. Anticipation pounded like a drumroll in his two hearts and three stomachs.

The sentient who entered the room wore battered, greenish Mandalorian battle armor. Two braided Wookiee scalps, one black and one white, hung from his right shoul-der. His features were completely masked by his helmet. Behind the eye slit, Teroenza thought he could make out the glint of his eyes. Greetings, Master Fett! Teroenza boomed, wondering whether to offer his hand. He had a feeling that if he did, Fett would ignore it, so he didnt. I would like to thank you for coming so promptly! I trust you had no problems with our treacherous Ylesian air currents and storms on your way through our atmosphere.

Lets not waste time, Fett said, his voice fiat and inhu-man as it came through the helmets speaker. You men-tioned Mandalorian wrist-darts in your collection as my fee for coming here for a personal interview. Take me to see them. Now.

Oh, certainly, certainly, Master Fett, sir, Teroenza cried. He had a sudden cold certainty that if Fett were to decide for some reason to kill him, there would be little he could do to prevent it. Despite Teroenzas massive bulk, easily five times that of the human, he felt naked and vul-nerable in the presence of the notorious bounty hunter.

Quickly he ushered Fett through the door in his private apartment that led into his treasure room. Theyre rigtit here, he said, having to forcibly stop himself from talking too quickly, almost babbling. Fett moved beside him, his progress as silent and deadly as a poison dart.

Opening a case, the Ylesian High Priest seized the wrist-lets. Each contained a spring mechanism that would shoot a profusion of tiny, deadly darts when the wearer moved his fingers in a certain way. A matched set, Teroenza gab-bled. I was assured theyre in perfect working order. Ill determine that for myself, Fett said, his voice, as always, flat and emotionless. Sealing the wristlets on, he turned in one smooth, lithe motion, and fired both of them into a thick tapestry that adorued the wall. Teroenza squeaked in protest, but dared not say more.

Only after Fett had collected the darts from the tapestry did he turn to face the High Priest. Very well. I am paid for my time, Priest. What is it you wish?

Teroenza pulled himself together. Fett was about to be-come his employee, after all . . . in a manner of speaking. He summoned as much dignity as he could, despite the racing of his pulses. There is a smuggler, Han Solo by name. You may have seen W^NTED posters for him. Fett nodded once. Solo travels with a Wookiee, they say, these days. Hes been reported seen on Nar Shaddaa. They say that nine or ten bounty hunters have tried for him, but hes been too quick for all of them. Fett nodded again. Teroenza found his silence un-nerving, but he continued doggedly, I want him. Alive, and relatively unharmed. No disintegrations.

That makes it harder, Fett said. For seventy-five hun-dred credits, its not worth my time. Teroenza had been afraid of this. Inwardly, he quaffed at the thought of what Aruk would have to say about this. Aruk liked to call himself frugal. Teroenza thought of him as a cheap old miser But . . . he had to have Solo. Should he try raising the bounty credits himself?. He didnt want to sell part of his collection

. . .

Ylesia will increase the bounty on Solo to twenty thou-sand credits, Teroenza said firmly. He resolved to talk Kib-bick and Aruk into approving the increase. Hed manage . . somehow. After all, it was Aruks responsibility, as head of Besadii.

Fett remained motionless, then, finally, just when Teroenza thought hed say no, he nodded again. All right The High Priest had to resist the urge to babble thanks at the bounty hunter. When do you think you can have him? Teroenza asked eagerly.

Thats not enough of a bounty to make me put aside my other commitments, Fett said. Youll have him when I get to him, Priest.

Teroenza fought his disappointment. But . . .

Make it a hundred thousand, and Ill put Solo as my first priority, Fett offered. A hundred thousand credits! Teroenzas mind reeled. His entire collection wasnt worth much more than that Aruk would have him drowned in Ylesias oceans if he promised such a bounty. He shook his head. No. Just put him on your list. Well wait.

And youll have Solo, Fett promised.

As Teroenza stood watching, Boba Fett turned and walked away. Teroenza strained his excellent hearing, but he could hear nothing. Soundlessly, Fett vanished through the door. The High Priest knew he wouldnt see him again, until the day he brought Han Solo back to Ylesia, to face a terrible fate. Just wait, Solo, he thought. You are a dead man. You just dont know it . . . yet. Two months and three bounty hunters later, Han and

Chewbacca were well on their way to saving the credits

theyd need to lease a ship of their own. Jabba and Jiliac

were sticklers when it came to keeping schedules, but they

paid well if their orders were followed to the letter

There were no further attacks on the Hurt yachts. But it was obvious to Han that a confrontation was brewing be-tween Desilijic and Besadii . . . he knew that Jiliacs mes-sengers had made some kind of proposal to Aruk the Hutts representatives Aruk had come back with a request for a face-to-face conference Han gathered that such confer-ences were highly unusual in Hutt society. He kept his eyes and ears open, wondering if hed be ordered to fly Jabba and Jiliac to attend the meeting. Han and Chewie worked long hours, but sometimes days went by between missions. During their off-hours, they hung out with the other smugglers in the Corellian sector, playing sabace and other games of chance.

Always ready for entertainment, and intrigued by nov-elty, Han was attracted one day by a huge holosign on one of the ancient, though still maintained, hotel-casinos. Headlining at The Chance Castle was a stage magician who was, by all reports, one of the best illusionists in the galaxy. Her name was Xaverri. Han checked out the admission pride, and when he discovered they could afford it, he sug-gested to Chewbaeca that they attend a magic show that night. Han didnt believe in magic any more than he believed in religion. But hed had some experience at sleight of hand in learning pickpocketing and card tricks, and he enjoyed trying to figure out how each trick was done.

Chewbacca proved strangely reluctant to go. He whined and shook his head, telling Han that they should go out with Mako that night, or over to see Roa, who had bought a small, one-man snubfighter that pirates had salvaged, and was working on it. Several times Han and Chewie had given him a hand fixing it up.

Han pointed out that they could help Roa any night, but that Xaverri was only scheduled to appear for a weeks run.

Chewie shook his head, silent, but obviously unhappy. Han stared at the Wookiee, wondering just what in the name of blazes was wrong with him. Hey, pal, whats the matter? This would be fun!

Chewie just grunted and shook his head, not answering. Han regarded him, puzzled, when suddenly he had a flash of insight. Wookiees were still a primal people. Theyd in-corporated and adapted advanced technology so it fit into their society, but they werent naturally technological. Wookiees were a very intelligent species who had learned to pilot spaceships through hyperspace, but theyd never built any of their own. Wookiees who left Kashyyyk---though that was rare now that the Empire had declared Kashyyyk a slave-labor world-did so on ships built by other sentients than themselves. Wookiee society still contained rites and customs th at many citizens of the Empire would consider primitive. Chewie had his own beliefs, and they included a certain amount of what Han regarded as superstition. Wookiee leg-ends contained frightening tales of supernatural beings that prowled, hungered, and thirsted by night, as well as stories of evil magicians and sorcerers who could work their will on others for nefarious purposes.

Han stared at his hairy partner for a long moment. Hey, Chewie, he said, finally, you know as well as I do that what theyre calling magic in Xaverris act aint nothin but a bunch of simple tricks and nonsense, right?

Chewbacca hrrrrnnnned, but he didnt sound too posi-tive about it.

Hah reached up and ruffled the hair on the top of the Wookiees head. Dewlanna had often caressed him in just that way. It was the Wookiee equivalent of a comforting pat on the shoulder. Believe me, Chewie, he oontinued, these stage magicians dont actually do real magic. Not the kind in Wookiee legends. What this Xaverri does is all sleight of hand, like what I can do with card-chips. Either that or its done with holo-projections or mirrors or some-thing like that. No real magic. Nothing supernatural. Chewie whined, but he was beginning to look reassured. Ill bet you that if you come with me tonight, I can spot how this Xaverri does all of her tricks, Han said. How bout it, pal, is it a deal? The Wookiee wanted to know what Hah was willing to bet. The Corellian thought for a moment. Ill fix breakfast and clean up for a month if I cant figure out how she does em, he promised. And if I do manage to do it, you pay me back for your own ticket, hows that? Chewbacca decided that was fair. The two smugglers got to the performance early enough to get seats close to the stage. They waited restlessly until there came a blare of fanfare, and the holo-curtain van-ished, to reveal the stage and its sole occupant.

Xaverri proved to be a voluptuous, attractive woman sev-eral years older than Han. She had long, heavy black hair that she wore in an elaborate coiffure. Her eyes flashed silver from the iris-enhancers she wore. The magician wore a costume of violet silk, slashed in strategic places to permit occasional tantalizing glimpses of the golden skin be-neath it.

She was an exciting, exotic-looking woman. Han won-dered what planet she came from. Hed never seen anyone who looked like her before.

After she was introduced, she went straight into her act. With a minimum of stage patter, she performed increas-ingly difficult tricks. Both Han and Chewbacca were capti-vated as they watched her illusions. Several times Han thought he might be able to guess how a trick had been engineered, but he was never able to spot any flaws in her routine. He knew hed lost his bet with Chewie. Xaverri performed all the traditional illusions-and then improved on them. She Iascred a volunteer from the audi-ence in half, then lasered herself in two. She teleported not only herself but a small flock of Rodian batwings from one glassinc cage to another one across the stagemall in one burst of smoke and flame. Her illusions were stylish and imaginative-and so well done it appeared she really possessed supernatural powers.

When she seemingly released a flock of Kayven whistlers to attack the audience, even Han flinched, and Chewie had to be restrained from trying to attack the illusionary beasts, so real did they appear. For the grand finale of her act, Xaverri made the entire wall of the hotel ballroom disappear, replaced with a star-flecked blackness of space. As the audience oohed and ahhhed, suddenly the emptiness of space was filled with a terrifying vision of a rogue dwarf star rushing headlong at them. Even Han couldnt stop himself from crying out and ducking as the enormous illusion dominated the room; Chewie howled in terror and nearly crawled under his seat. It was all Han could do to drag him back upright when the illusion abruptly vanished, and there, replacing it, was a huge image of Xaverri, bowing and smiling.

Hah clapped until his hands were sore, yelling and whistling. What a show!

After all the applause had died away, Han made sure that he found his way backstage. He wanted to meet the lovely illusionist, wanted to tell her that she was extraordi-narily talented. Xaverri was the first woman hed found himself really attracted to in a very long time. Since Bria had left, matter of fact.

After a long wait amid the stage-door crowd, Han saw Xaverri emerge from her dressing room. The silver iris-enhancers were gone, and her eyes were now their natural dark brown. She wore a stylish street outfit instead of the silk costume. Smiling warmly, she scribed her signature and personalized messages to her fans, then thumbprinted them onto tiny holocubes as a memento. She was gracious and pleasant to her admirers.

Han deliberately hung back until everyone except her assistant, a surly Rodian, was gone. Finally, he stepped forward, smiling his best, most charming smile. Hi, he said, looking her in the eye. Xaverri was nearly as tall as he was, and her high-heeled, elaborately decorated boots made them the same height. Hah Solo, Lady Xaverri. And my partner, Chewbacca. I wanted to tell you that I thought that was the most original and exciting magic act Ive ever seen.

Xaverri looked him and Chewbacca up and down assess-ingly, then smiled a very different sort of smile, cold and cynical. Greetings, Solo. Let me guess, she said. Youre selling something? Han shook his head. Very perceptive of her. But it been a long time since Ive been a con man. These days Im just a pilot . . . Not at .all, lady. Im just a fan who admires stage magic. Also, I wanted to give Chewie a chance to see you and smell you so hell know youre as human as I am. Im afraid you more than impressed him. When you filled the air with those Kayven whistlers, it was like something out of a Wookiee night-flyer legend. He didnt know whether to dig a hole in the floor or fight for his life. She glanced up at Chewbacca, then, slowly, slowly, her cynical smile faded, to be replaced by the real thing. Pleased to meet you, Chewbacca. Sorry if I scared you, she said, holding out her hand. Chewie engulfed her hand in his two hairy paws and spouted Wookiee at her, which she seemed to understand perfectly. He told her that her show had amazed and terri-fied him, but that now it was over, he found that hed really enjoyed himself.

Why, thank you? she exclaimed. Thats the reaction a magician hopes to get Han was almost jealous to see how she and the Wookiee seemed to hit it off. Xaverri re-sponded to Chewies open admiration with genuine warmth.

Before the moment could be lost, Han stepped forward and invited the illusionist to go out with them for a post-performance snack.

She eyed him, the caution back in her eyes. Han studied her, and suddenly realized that this was a human who had suffered a terrible loss in the past. It had made her cau-tious, protective. Shell say no, he thought, disappointed. But, to his surprise, after a moments consideration, Xaverri agreed to accompany them.

Han took her to a little bistro in the Corellian sector where the food and drink were good and cheap, and a woman with a lute-pipe alternately strummed and sang softly.

It took a while, but Xaverri slowly relaxed, and even smiled at Han as well as Chewie. After they walked her back to her hotel, the magician took Hans hand in both of hers and gazed at him earnestly. Solo . . . thank you. Ive really enjoyed meeting you and Cbewbacca. She looked over at the Wookiee, who gave her a pleased whine. I find Im sorry to have to say good-bye, and its been a long time since I could say that to anyone.

Han smiled at her. Then dont say good-bye, Xaverri.

Say, Ill be seeing you, because its true.

She took a deep breath. I dont know if thats a good idea, Solo . . . t do, Han said. Trust me.

Han was back at file stage door the next night, and the next. He and Xaverri got to know each other, little by cau-tious little. She was uncommunicative about her past, even more reticent than Han himself. By listening and asking roundabout questions, Han managed to diseover a few things about her she hated the Empire and Imperial offi-cials with a single-minded quiet ferocity that he found dis-turbing, she was proud of her skills as a magician and couldnt resist a challenge, and . . . she was lonely. It was a hard life, traveling from planet to planet, playing to cheering crowds, but always winding up alone in some hotel room. Han got the impression that it had been a long time, perhaps years, since Xaverri had spent time with a man. She had many opportunities, but her natural reserve and suspicion made her resist involvements.

For the first time in his life, Han found that he was the person who had to open up, to try to get past barriers that made his own considerable emotiona] defenses seem puny. It was hard to do-several times he was tempted to quit, to give up his pursuit as hopeless.

But Xaverri intrigued and excited him. He wanted to get to know her, and he wanted her to trust him . . . even a little.

The third night he spent time with her, Xaverri gave him a quick kiss at the door to her room, before vanishing in-side. Han went home smiling.

When he got ready to go out late the next night, Chewbacca rose to accompany him. Han held up a warning hand to the Wookiee. Chewie, old buddy, you dont have to cme with me tonight. Chewbacca made a derisive sound. Han would get into trouble without him, he just knew it. Han smiled, a slow, irresistible smile. Yep. Thats what Im hopin, pal. Im goin alone tonight. See you later. Much later-I hope.

Smiling and whistling the beginning notes from Xaverris opening number, Hah left his apartment and headed for The Chance Castle.

When he waited outside the door this night, Xaverri emerged, wearin g a simple black and scarlet jumpsuit that set off her hair and skin. She looked pleased to see him, but glanced around, obviously searching for Chewbaeca. Wheres Chewie?

Han took her arm. He stayed home tonight. Tonight its just you and me, babe. If thats okay. She looked at him, trying to look stem, then suddenly she smiled at him knowingly. Solo, youre a rogue, you know that?

He smiled back. Im glad you noticed. That means Im your kind of guy, right? She shook her head. You never know.

They went to one of the Hutt-owned casinos, and thanks to Hans privileged status as Jabba and Jiliacs pilot, they were given special treatment-free drinks, admission to special high-stakes games, plus good seats at the shows.

It was late before they left, and true night still reigned over this section of Nar Shaddaa. Han walked Xaverri back to her hotel. She asked him how hed become partners with Chewie, and he found himself telling her about his time as an officer in the Imperial Navy.

And so, after they threw me out, he finished, I found that I couldnt get honest work as a pilot. I was blacklisted. I didnt know where my next meal was coming from. But even though I got mad and ordered Chewie to go, he wouldnt. Said a life debt is the most serious obligation a Wookiee can have. Even takes precedence over family ties. He glanced at Xaverri. Does that bother you that I was an Imperial officer? I know you hate the Empire.

She shook her head. No, it doesnt bother me. You didnt stay in long enough to get corrupted. For that, you should give thanks to whatever gods you believe in.

Han shrugged. Im afraid thats a real short list. Not even one entry, he said, keeping it light. What about you?

She glanced at him, and her eyes were haunted. Re-venge is my religion, Solo. Revenge against the Empire for what they did to me . . . and mine.

Hah reached over and took her hand, gripped it strongly. Tell me . . . if you can. She shook her head. I cant. Ive never told anyone. I will never talk about it. If I did . . . I think it might kill me. I really do, Solo.

The Empire . . . Hah was guessing, they killed your family?

She drew a long breath, nodded, lips tightly pressed to-gether. Husband. Children, she said flatly. Yes. They killed them.

Im sorry, Hah said. I never knew my family. Im not sure I had one. Sometimes, like now, I think that might not be such a bad thing.

Xaverri shook her head. I dont know. You may be right, Solo. All I do know is that I never miss an opportu-nity to hurt them. My work takes me through the galaxy, and, believe me, this is the first engagement Ive had in a long time where I havent spent every free moment figuring out a way to hurt the Empire.

Hah smiled wryly. Thats because there are no Imperi-als here on Nar Shaddaa. Which wasnt quite true, but it might as well be. There was an Imperial Customs office on the Smugglers Moon. The office was staffed by an old man named Dedro Needa_lb, who basically worked for the Hutts. He bore the title of Imperial Customs Inspector, though. He transmitted data about ships and their cargoes to the local Sector Moff, Sam Shild, when he felt like it. No one ever verified whether the data he transmitted were accurate.

Basically, the Hutts had their own arrangements with Sam Shild. They made political contributions and per-sona] gifts to Shild as gratitude for being such a good Imperial rep. Shild, in turn, left the Hutts and their hold-ings pretty much alone.

Each prospered from the arrangement. Like a symbiotic organism, Hah thought. Exactly, she said. Theres no point in harming old Dedro Needalb. Hurting him would hurt the Hutts and Nar Shaddaa, and it might actually benefit the Empire. Thats the last thing I want. So how do you hurt themY Han asked, wondering whether she was an assassin. She was an accomplished gymnast and contortionist, and some of her tricks involved weapons such as daggers, sabers, and vibroblades. But he had trouble imagining her in the role of an assassin. Xaverri was smart, very smart. Probably smarter, Hah had to con-cede, than he was. Shed be more likely to use brains rather than weapons in her one-woman vendetta against the Em-pire.

She gave him an enigmatic smile. That would be tell-ing.

Hah shrugged. Hey, I got no love for the Empire my-self. Theyre slavers these days, and I hate slavery. Maybe I could give you a hand sometime. Im pretty good in a fight.

Xaverri regarded him thoughtfully. Ill consider it. Ive been thinking about replacing old Glarret soon. Hes not quick enough anymore to be a good assistant in the act, and he cant pilot. Its hard on me to do all the piloting myself.

Well, lady, let me tell you, Im a first-elass pilot, Hah said with a grin. Matter of fact, Im good at a lot of things.

She rolled her eyes. And modest, too.

By now they had reached the door to Xaverris room. The illusionist looked at Hah for a long level second. Its pretty late, Solo.

He didnt move. Yeah.

She pressed the doorlock with her forefinger and thumb, and it opened silently. Xaverri hesitated for a second, then walked into her room.

Leaving the door open.

Han smiled, and followed her in.

Han awoke after a few hours, and decided to leave Xaverri, who was still deeply asleep, to finish her rest. Qui-etly, he dressed and let himself out of the room, after leav-ing a message on her comlink that hed see her later that day.

It was just after sunrise on Nar Shaddaa, though the activity on the Smugglers Moon had little to do with the unnaturally (to most sentients) long days and nights. Nat Shaddaa was always awake, always active. Hah walked toward home through crowded streets, hearing the cries of the street vendors selling their myriad wares.

Han whistled a few bars of an old Corellian folk song as he walked. He felt great. He hadnt realized how lonely hed been for female companionship. It had been a long time since hed met a woman he really cared for, and Xaverri obviously found him as attractive as he found her. The memory of her kisses still had the power to stir him.

Hah found himself counting the hours until he could see her again, and chuckled to himself, shang his head. Get hold of yourself Solo. Youre no moony-eyed kid anymore, you reWithout warning, something jabbed him in the right buttock. At first Han thought hed staggered and bumped his rear against a sharp piece of glassinc protruding from the half-ruined building beside him. Then a rush of strange, tingling warmth engulfed him.

His steps faltered, and his vision blurred, then cleared.

Whats happening?

Steely fingers clamped on to his arm and dragged him into the alley. Han realized, with horror, that he couldnt fight back. His hands wouldnt obey the commands of his brain. Drugged? Oh, no/

A fiat, inhuman voice spoke to him from just behind his right shoulder. Stand still, Solo. Hah discovered that he could do nothing else than stand perfectly still. Inwardly he was raging, his anger as hot and explosive as star-plasma, but outwardly his body was com-pletely obedient to that artificially amplified voice. Whos got me? What cbms he want?

Hah concentrated every muscle, every sinew, every neu-ron of his being into moving his hands, his arms, his legs. Sweat gathered on his forehead, trickled down into his eyes. But he couldnt so much as twitch a finger.

The hand left his arm, went down to his thigh to unfas-ten the leather strap that held his blaster secure in its hol-ster. Han could feel the weight against his thigh lighten as his attacker disarmed him. Raging, he tried again to move, but he might as well have tried to push a ship into hyper-space using his own muscle power.

He tried to speak, tried to say, Vho are you? but that proved beyond him, too. All he could do was to breathe, in and out, blink his eyes, and obey.

If Hah had been a Wookiee, hed have howled, long and loud.

After relieving Han of his blaster, his captor walked around him. Finally, Han got a look at him. Bounty hunter! his mind screamed.

Beat-up greenish-gray Mandalorian armor, a helmet that completely hid his features, and armed to the teeth. He even had black and white braided scalps of some kind hanging from his right shoulder. Hah wondered what the mans name was. He must be one of the elite-a bounty hunter who only went after tough cases.

The Corellian supposed that he ought to be flattered, but it seemed a dubious honor at best. The bounty hunter went on to pat Han down, looking for more weaponry. He found Hans multitool in his pocket, and confiscated that. The Corellian tried again to move, but he could do absolutely nothing but inhale and exhale. His breathing was loud and harsh in his own ears. The figure in the Mandalorian armor glanced up at him. Dont waste your energy, Solo. I jabbed you with a dose of a handy little potion theyve come up with on Ryloth. Ex-pensive, but for the bounty theyre paying, youre worth it. You wont be able to move, except at my command, for several hours. It varies from subject to subject. By the time you can move under your own power, well be aboard my ship and halfway to Ylesia.

Han stared at the bounty hunter, suddenly realizing hed seen that figure in Mandalorian armor before, a long time ago. Where? He concentrated, but the memory wouldnt surface. Having finished his search, the bounty hunter straight-ened. All fight. Turn around. Han found himself turning. Now walk. Turn right at the mouth of the alley.

The Corellian raged helplessly as his body obeyed every command. Right-left, right-left. He was walking, and the bounty hunter was right behind him. Han could catch occa-sional glimpses of him with his pefipheral vision.

They walked down the street of Nar Shaddaa, and for a moment Han hoped that they might encounter one of his friends, even, possibly, Chewie. Surely someone w ould no-tice what was happening to him!

But although many of the denizens of Nar Shaddaa watched bounty hunter and prize walk past, nobody even spoke to them. Hah didnt really blame them. This bounty hunter, whoever he was, was a different sort than the ones hed dealt with before. This guy was skilled, clever, and extremely dangerous. Anyone who interfered with him would undoubtedly suffer dire consequences. Right-left, fight-left, fight-left. The bounty hunter turned right at the intersection lead-ing to the nearest transport tube. Han knew where they must be heading-the closest public landing platform. The bounty hunter must have a ship waiting there.

Obediently, Han stepped into the transport tube. He tfied again to move. Just let him wiggle even a finger or a toe! But it was hopeless. The public transport system con-sisted of small capsules that would hold four or five individ-uals, all strnng together in a line like beads on a string. Hans captor did not sit down, but he ordered Han to do so. The Corellian sat there, fuming, imagining all the things he would do to this bounty hunter if only he could move. The man did not speak. Han could not. It was a short, silent fide.

When they debarked from the tube capsule, Han found himself, as hed suspected, at one of the public rooftop landing fields. The field was huge, broken only by several airshafts that gave light to the buildings beneath the plat-form. The airshafts yawned, with no railings to protect a careless walker from plunging to his, her, or its death hun-dreds or thousands of stories below.

Han had a sudden vivid memory of the night Garris Shfike had chased him across the topmost platforms on Cornscant. Hed barely escaped with his life then. The Corellian had a bad feeling that this time he wasnt going to be so lucky.

Han found himself wondering what fate held in store for him back on Ylesia. Teroenza didnt have a molecule of kindness or mercy in his entire enormous body. Hed see that his prisoner met a slow and agonizing end.

For a moment Han wished he could get control of his body just long enough to make a running dive down one of those airshafts. But no matter how he struggled to move, he could do nothing except obey orders.

Han and his captor strode between the grounded ships, heading Han knew not where. Right-left, right-left, right-left . . .

The bounty hunter pointed, his arm coming into Hans view. Head for that ship. The modified Firespray class.

Han could see it now. The bounty hunter wasnt kidding when he said modified. The patrol and attack ship was very unusual, obviously heavily modified. Unlike other ves-sels, it landed with its Kuat Engineering Systems F-31 drive engines down against the permacrete. Roughly egg-shaped, when those powerful engines were engaged, the ship would stand up on end to fly. Han had never seen anything quite like it, but the vessel reminded him of its owner-powerful and deadly. For a moment, forgetting his predicament in his interest in the ship, Han found himself wishing he could get a look at the interior---only to catch himself in disgust. He was going to get a look at the interior, all right. Hed spend several days aboard that modified Firespray as it took him to certain torture and inevitable death.

They were walking down the ragged aisle between two huge Durosian-built freighters now. In just a few steps, theyd be at the bounty hunters ship, and that would be it. Han knew better than to imagine hed be able to somehow overpower this guy, seize control of the Firespray, and save himself. He wished he could swallow. His throat was so dry it ached.

Right-left, right-left, right-left . . .

This is it, Han thought. This is really it . . .

As Han marched woodenly forward, he caught a blur of motion out of the corner of his eye-a figure stepped out from behind the freighters massive stabilizer fin. A voice hed never heard before, low, pleasant, but holding plenty of authority, said, Freeze, bounty hunter. Move and youve had it. The hand that had been resting lightly on Hans arm fell away. The Corellian, of course, was unable to stop walking. He marched forward into the sunlit expanse between him-self and the modified Firespray, leaving his captor and his unknown benefactor behind him in the shadow of the ship. Relief washed through him. Im saved/only to be re-placed with terror. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the sudden change from shadow to sunlight, he could see there was an airshaft between him and the Firespray. Unable to stop himself, he was going to walk right off the edge! Then the voice called after him. Hey, you! Solo! Stop! Hah felt himself halting, and was again flooded with re-lief. Fortunately, his body would obey orders from anyone, not just the unknown bounty hunter. Turn around and come back here! the voice added. Joyfully, Han obeyed.

As he walked toward his former captor and his rescuer, he stared into the shadows, but could make out little except that someone stood half behind the bounty hunter, holding the muzzle of a blaster shoved up under the edge of the Mandalorian helmet, so it dug into the mans neck. As he walked back into the shadow of the freighters stabilizer fin, and his eyes adjusted from full sunlight, Han finally got a good look at his rescuer.

He was a male, human, approximately Hans age, maybe a couple of years older. Slightly shorter than Han himself, he was slender and fit. He was clean-shaven, with curling black hair, dark eyes, and skin the color of vine-coffeine lightened with traladon mfik.

The man was dressed in the height of fashion, a pale gold shirt that laced up the front, accented with black em-broidery on the wide collar and cuffs. His narrow black trousers were impeccably pressed. A wide, cummerbund-like embroidered belt accented his narrow waist and flat stomach. He wore black softboots, which explained why hed been able to ambush the bounty hunter so sound-lessly. A short, black cape hung from his shoulders.

As Hah approached him, he smiled, an exceptionally charming smile that revealed excellent white teeth. You may stop now, Solo, he said, halting Hah well out of range of his erstwhile captor. Han stopped, and stood watching as his rescuers thumb moved on the firing control of the blaster as he pulled his hand back slightly. Feeling the newcomers grip slacken, the bounty hunter started to swing around, raising his wrists. The bounty hunter wore Mandalorian wristlets that were undoubtedly loaded with deadly little darts!

Hah tried without success to scream a warning, but it was unnecessary. The newcomer was already firing. The stun blast hit the bounty hunter, and at such dose range, even his Mandalorian armor couldnt deflect its effects. The bounty hunter went down bonelessly. The edges of his ar-mor clattered on the permacrete as he landed.

Hans rescuer replaced his small but deadly holdout blaster in a concealed holster attached to the ornamental belt. He gestured to Hah. Help me pick him up. Naturally, Han did as he was told. Together, he and the newcomer carried the unconscious hunter toward his ship. Han wondered what they were go-ing to do with him. It wouldnt be long before he regained consciousness. I wonder how long that stuff will affect you, the res-cuer said thoughtfully. Can you talk, Solo? Han felt his lips moving. Yes, he said. He tried to say more than that simple assent, but he couldnt. The man glanced over at him. I get it. You can respond to orders, but no more, rightY I guess so, Hah found himself replying.

Nasty stuff he shot you with, the man said. Ive heard of it, but never seen it in action. Ill have to investigate getting some of it. Could come in handy in a pinch.

When they reached the ramp leading to the airlock of the Firespray, they laid the bounty hunter on the permacrete. The newcomer then proceeded to search his pockets and all the concealed places in his armor. Hello, what have we here? he exclaimed as his deft fingers en-countered several vials in the bounty hunters belt pocket.

After holding each vial up to the light so he could read the label, Hans rescuer flashed him a roguish grin. Youre in luck, Solo, he said. This is the stuff he shot into you-he held up a blue vial-and heres the antidote. He held up a green vial.

Han waited impatiently as the newcomer loaded the in-jector with the substance. Im having to guess at the dos-age, he said. Ill give you the minimum, and if that doesnt help, Ill try a bit more. He placed the injector against Hans torso and then triggered it.

As soon as his rescuer depressed the trigger, and the substance flooded his body, Han felt himself tingle all over. Moments later he could move and speak.

Pal, I owe you one, he said, extending his hand to the other. If it hadnt been for you . . . He shook his head. So who are you and why did you rescue me? Ive never seen you before in my life. The other grinned. Lando Calrissian, he replied. And as to why I saved you, its a bit of a story. Lets deal with Boba Fett here, and then well talk. His gaze sharpened. Hey, Solo, you okay? Han felt diz,y. He dropped to one knee beside the prone figure of the bounty hunter and shook his head. Boba . . . Boba Fett? This is Boba Fett?

The most famous bounty hunter in the galaxy had been hired to bring him in? Han felt himself tremble in reaction to the news. Oh, man . . . Lando . . . he said. I didnt knOW . . . Well, youre safe now, Calrissian said cheerfully. You can get the shakes later, Solo. Right now we have to figure out what were going to do with Master Fett, here. He thought for a moment, then a slow, unpleasant smile stole across his hce. He snapped his fingers. Got it!

What?

Calrissian was already loading the injector again, this time with the other vial, the blue one. He shook the bounty hunter, who groaned and stirred. Hes coming around, so here goes nothing, he grunted. Han, who had reap-propriated his blaster, kept the bounty hunter covered while Calrissian lifted the front of Fetts helmet, exposing his throat. The bounty hunter suddenly struggled violently. Freeze! Han ordered, holding the blaster against his helmet. This isnt set on stun, Fett, he snarled. After what you almost did to me, Id cheerfully disintegrate you,

Boba Fett lay quiet as Calrissian shoved the injector against his neck and triggered it. Moments later Fett shivered. Lie still, Calrissian or-dered.

The bounty hunter obeyed. Han and Lando grinned at each other . . . slow, nasty grins. All right, sit up, Calrissian said.

Boba Fett did as he was told.

You know what we ought to do, Calrissian said thoughtfully. If we had any idea of how long this stuff stays in the system, Id say take him down to one of the local bars for a couple of hours and collect fees from folks whod pay well to humiliate this guy. Hes taken a lot of bounties. Hes got to have lots of enemies.

He said it would last several hours. Theres no way to tell exactly, Hah pointed out. Personally, he wanted noth-ing more than to get as far away from Fett and Slave I as he could. For a moment he considered ordering Fett to march himself across the permacrete and down an airshaft, but a moments reflection convinced him that even though it might be the smart thing to do, he just couldnt do it. Kill-ing someone in a blaster fight was one thing, but callously ordering a sentient to kill himself-even when that sentient was a scummy bounty hunter-was quite another. True. Calrissian stood up. Well, I think maybe my first idea is the best one. Stand up, Boba Fett, he com-manded.

The bounty hunter stood up.

Disarm yourself. Now.

Minutes later Han and Lando regarded a largish pile of assorted weaponry of all different kinds that lay before them on the sunlit permacrete. Minions of Xendor, Han said, shaking his head, this guy could have set up shop with just what he had on him. l_okit those Mandalorian wristlets. Bet the darts are poisoned, too.

One way to find out, said Lando. Boba Fett, answer me. Are these darts poisoned? Some of them, the bounty hunter replied.

Which ones?

Left wristlet.

Whats on the right wristlet darts?

Soporific.

Nice, Han said, fingering the wristlets carefully. These oughta be worth quite a bit to a collector. So, now

. . what do we do with him?

I think we set his autopilot to blast out of here, and set a oourse for some far system. Then we order him not to interfere with the course weve set. If this stuff takes hours to wear off, by the time it does, he could be sectors away. Calrissian paused. Hes killed so many people, Im almost tempted to just shoot him. But Ive never killed anyone in cold blood like that. He frowned, almost seeming embar-rassed. Im not eager to start now, I have to admit.

Me, too, Han said. Your plan sounds fine. Lets get him aboard.

Obediently, Boba Fett opened up his ship, and the three of them walked into Slave I. Han and Lando strapped Fett into one of the passenger seats. Are you a pilot? Han asked. No, Im not, Calrissian admitted Matter of fact, thats why I was looking for you. I need to hire a pilot. You got one, Han said. Anything I can do to help you out. Like I said, I owe you, pal. Well talk about that later. Lets get rid of our friend here.

Han quickly set the autopilot to take the ship up, and prerecorded all the necessary responses Slave I would need to make to Nar Shaddaas sector traffic control. Then he chose a course that would take Slave I clear across Imperial space in a series of bewildering hyperspace jumps. With any luck, Boba Fett would be unable to regain control until he was tens of thousands of parsees away. Were ready, Han said, finally. Shell lift in three min-utes.

Okay. Lando turned back to the helpless bounty hunter. Fett, listen to me, and do exactly what I say. You are to sit in this seat, strapped in, and not go near the controls of your ship until you reach the destination Solo has set for it, or until your obedience drug wears off, whichever cmes first. Do you understand? Yes, said Fett.

Good. Calrissian waved a jaunty good-bye to the bounty hunter and headed for the ramp. Han stared hard at Boba Fett. Have a nice trip, bounty hunter. I hope I never see you again. And you can tell Teroenza from me that the next time I come back to Ylesia, hes one dead tlanda Til. You hear me? Yes.

So long, Fett, Han said. He could hear the engines whine, and the ramp trembled beneath his feet as he ran down it, pressing the CLOSE button as he did so. He had to jump down from the ramp as it rose beneath his feet.

Lando had already scooped up Boba Fetts weaponry, and together, the young men jogged to a safe distance. They turned back to watch Slave I rear up on its end, then take off, its powerful engines flaring. Only when it had disappeared into the distance did Hah finally draw a long, deep breath and then let it out slowly. Whew. Close call, he said.

Ill say, Calrissian agreed. Youre lucky I spotted you, Solo.

Han nodded and held out his hand to the other. Call me Han. I owe you, Calrissian. Call me Lando. The other mans irresistible grin flashed. And . . . dont worry. Ill see you pay up. Whatever you want, pal. You dont know what would have happened to me if Boba Fett had succeeded. The Corellian shivered, even in the suns warmth. Trust me, you dont want to know. I can guess, Land said. Boba Fett doesnt work cheaP. If somebody wanted you that bad, chances are it wasnt just because you welshed on a debt, or anything minor.

Han grinned. You are an insightful guy, pal. He beck-oned to the other, and they began walking back across the landing platform. Want to get some breakfast? I find Im really hungry. Nearly meeting a fate worse than death has that effect on me.

Sure, Lando said. You buying?

You bet.

By the time they were settled at a litfie cafe Han knew, sipping cups of stim-tea, Han was beginning to feel as though hed known Lando for years, instead of just an hour.

So, tell me, he said, finishing off the last slice of flatbread,

how did you find me? And why were you lookin for me7

Well, Ive actually seen you a time or two before, Lando admitted. You were pointed out to me in a couple of night spots as a fair sabaec player, a good smuggler, and an excellent pilot. Han tried, without much success, to look suitably mod-est. I dont recall seein you, Lando, but I didnt have any reitson to remember, I guess. So, okay, you knew what I look like. What happened this morning?

Well, last night I went by your place to talk to you, and your friend told me that he didnt think youd be home that night. Lando gave Han a knowing smile. But he told me youd probably be staying with a . . . friend . . . at The Chance Castle. So, when I finished the nights work, I dropped by on my way home. You work at night? What do you do? Han asked. Gambler, Lando said. Mostly. Though Ive been known to try my hand at various schemes as they come along.

I see. So you hadnt been to bed yet, but you came by The Castle on the way home. It wasnt far out of my way. Most of the big casinos in

that section of Nar Shaddaa are within walking distance of

each other. Anyway, when I got there, I saw you on the

street, ahead of me. I followed you, intending to catch up

and introduce myselfOnly to see Boba Fett get the drop on me, Hah guessed. Exactly. I dont much like bounty hunters, so I followed you until I was pretty sure where he was heading. Then I managed to slip around the perimeter of the landing field and get ahead of you. You were walking pretty slowly, you know. I recognized Slave I, so I was able to hide between you and the ship, then get the drop on Fett when he walked past.

Hah nodded. And Im real glad you did, pal. He shook his head. Listen, dont tell Chewie about this, okay? Hes sworn something called a life debt to me, cause he thinks he owes me, you see. I had a hard time talkin him out of coming with me last night. He was sure Id get myself into trouble . . . Well, you did, Lando said, chuckling.

I know I did, Han admitted ruefully. But if Chewie ever finds out about it, hell never let me out of his sight again. And, hey . . . there are times when a guy would like some privacy, you know? Lando shook his head ruefully. I get your point. Okay, Han, Ill keep your secret. He leaned forward and poured himself another cup of stim-tea. Is she pretty?

Han nodded. I know youll appreciate what I mean when I say that shes almost worth what I went through this morning.

Lando looked impressed. Maybe you should introduce me, old buddy.

Han shook his head. I dont think so . . . old buddy. You strike me as a bit of a ladykiller. Youd probably try to charm her away from me.

Lando shrugged and sat back, smiling smugly. You never know.

Han grinned. The operative word here is try, Lando. So why were you lookin for me in the first place? You mentioned needing a pilot?

Thats right. I was playing sabacc over on Bespin a week or so ago, and one of the players threw in a marker for his ship. High-stakes game, it was.

And you won the ship, Han guessed.

Thats right. But Ive never piloted one. I need to

learn-especially now, with a chance that Boba Fett will

come looking for me. Im going to head for greener pastures and fresh sabacc tables for a while, and I thought it would be fun to travel in my own ship. I had to hire a pilot

to fly me back here, and it was expensive. So I want you to

teach me to fly my ship,

Okay, Han said. I can do that. When do you want to start?

Lando shrugged. My adrenaline level is still pretty high after dealing with Fett. Im not sleepy at all. How about nOW?

Han nodded. Sure.

They took a different tube to a different landing plat-form. Side by side, Han and Lando walked across the wind-swept surface of the platform, through ranks of parked vessels, until Lando stopped and pointed. There it is. The Millennium Falcon.

Han stared across the permacrete at the modified light stock freighter, Corellian made and engineered, model YT-1300 Transport. Hed seen plenty of them before, and had always liked them-Corellians were good engineers as well as good pilots.

But, as Han stared at this particular ship, something strange happened. Without warning, he fell suddenly, irrev-ocably, irretrievably in love. This ship called to him, she sang to him a siren song of speed, of maneuverability, of narrow escapes and adventures and successful smuggling runs galore. That ship is going to be mine, Han thought. Mine. The Millennium Falcon will be mine . . . The Corellian suddenly realized he was staring, his mouth agape. Lando was looking at him, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. Hastily Han closed his mouth, and tried his best to purge the sudden yearning, the wanting from his mind. He had to play it cool. If Lando knew how much Han wanted the ship, hed surely jack the price up . . . So, what do you think of her? Lando asked.

Han shook his head. Vhat a hunk of junk? he ex-claimed, mentally begging the Falcons pardon. That game wasnt nearly as high stakes as youre tryin to make me believe, old buddy. Hey, the pilot who flew it back here for me said its a really fast ship, Lando said, sounding defensive. Really? Hah looked doubtful. He shrugged. Well, you never know till you try her out. Shall we go for a spin? Sure, Lando said.

Minutes later Han sat at the controls of Landos new

acquisition, savoring the Falcons response as she lifted on

her repulsors, then he engaged the sublight drive. He still

couldnt believe what hed seen in her engine room-this

ship boasted a military-grade hyperdrive! Oh, you honey[

Her sublight speeds were good, too. Han sent the Fal-con hurtling upward in a steep rush. The resulting surge of power exhilarated him, but he was careful not to show it. Not bad, he said indifferently. But Ive seen better.

Lets see how she maneuvers.

Quickly he took the Falcon up out of Nar Shaddaas atmosphere, then through the opening in the shield, all the while giving the correct responses to traffic control. Once free of the gravity well and past the floating obstacle course of the derelict ships, Han sent the Falcon into a dizzying series of spins, rolls, and flips.

Hey! Lando protested, gulping audibly. You got a passenger here, dont forget! You want me to lose my breakfast?

Han grinned at him. He was tempted to ask Lando how much he wanted for the ship, but he knew it would be more than he could possibly afford. Wild schemes about getting the Hutts to buy the Falcon so he could fly it regu-larly-and then maybe steal it, someday-raced through his mind. But he didnt want Jabba or Jiliac owning tile Falcon.

They wouldnt appreciate this beauty, this work of art.

Han quickly checked out the weaponry. Her legs are good, but she could use more muscle . . . Only one light laser cannon, in a top gun turret. Not enough, Han thought.

As though Lando were reading Hans thoughts, the gam-bler said, The pilot that brought me here said it might need some more weaponry to be a really good smuggler. What do you think? I think if this were my ship, Id install another gun turret and some quad lasers, as well as a repeating blaster in the belly, to cover quick getaways, Hah said. Maybe some concussion missiles, too . . . Huh, Lando said. Ill have to think about that. But it is a fast ship, isnt it? Han nodded grudgingly. Yeah, shes got a pretty good set of legs on her, Lando. He surreptitiously patted the pilots console. Oh, you sweetheart . . .

A few minutes later Lando cleared his throat. I thought the object of taking it out was that you were going to start teaching me to pilot, Han.

Oh . . . oh, yeah, Han said. I was just . . . check-ing her out. So I could teach you all her little quirks and stuff.

You sound like this thing is alive, Lando said.

Well, pilots get to think of their ships sort of like that, Han admitted. They become like a . . . friend. Youll see.

Dont forget, the Falcon is my ship, Lando said, with a slight edge in his voice. Of course, Han said, carefully casual. Now, listen here. Were going to start at sublight speeds. Thats where most of the maneuvering expertise comes. See that lever? Pull that lever and well go into hyperdrive, and thats not something you want to do less youve got a course laid in. So . . . dont touch that lever. Got it?

Lando leaned forward intently. Got it . . .

Thousands of light-years away, Teroenza, High Priest of Ylesia, stood in the middle of Colony Three, surveying the damage from a dawn terrorist raid. Nearly a dozen bodies were sprawled around, most of them his own security guards. Blaster marks scored the factory buildings. The door to the mess hall was slagged. A crew was finishing putting out a fire in the Administration Building. The smell of burning fought with the hothouse odor of the wet, steaming jungle.

The High Priest snorted nervously. All this from a slave raid. Not a raid to gain slaves, a raid to rescue them.

The troops had been human, most of them. Teroenza had seen their images on his communications monitors from his headquarters at Colony One. Two ships had spi-raled down through Ylesias treacherous air currents, but only one had managed to land safely. The other vessel had gotten caught in a wind shear, and was destroyed.

Which was only justice, Teroenza thought grumpily as he surveyed the damage the remaining ship had caused. Meddlers! The group had landed, then armed troops dressed in green and khaki uniforms had leaped out and attacked the Ylesian guards. A firefight had ensued, and more than a dozen guards had been killed.

Then the attackers had stormed the refectory where the pilgrims were having breakfast. Theyd entreated them to come with them, saying they were here to rescue them from slavery. Teroenza made a soft whuffiing sound that was his spe-cies equivalent of a chuckle. Stupid raiders!

Stupid to think the pilgrims would renounce the Exultation for freedom. Only two pilgrims out of the two hundred in the mess hall had run to join the invaders.

And then Teroenzas expression darkened she had stepped forward to address the assembled pilgrims. The High Priest had thought her dead long since. He remem-bered her very well. Pilgrim 921, birth name Bria Tharen. A Corellian . . . and a traitor.

Bria had argued with the pilgrims, telling them the truth about the Exultation. Shed told the group that someday theyd thank her-and then shed given the order for her troops to turn stun beams on the crowd. Pilgrims had fallen in their tracks.

The group of Corellians had gotten away with nearly a hundred prime slaves. Teroenza cursed softly. Bria Tharen! He couldnt decide which Corellian he hated more, Bria or that accursed Han Solo. Teroenza was worried about this raid. There was money behind this group. Ships and weapons cost money. They were well organized and efficient, like a real military cadre. Who were they? Teroenza had heard of various rebel groups rising against the Empire. Could the squadron of soldiers that attacked Colony Three today have been part of such a group?

The High Priest experienced a flicker of satisfaction, though, when he imagined how miserable the rescuers would be when the stunned pilgrims awakened. The tlanda Til knew only too well how addicted most humanoids quickly became wben exposed to the Exultation on a daily basis. By now the pilgrims must be missing the Exultation a great deal. They would be screaming and wailing and mak-ing threats, begging to return to Ylesia. They might even commandeer the rebel ship and bring it back here, like faithful pilgrims. One thing was certain . . . tonight the Corellian rebels would have their hands full. The thought made Teroenza smile.

Several days after Boba Fetts attempt to capture him, Han went to see Jabba and Jiliac to tell them that he would be scarce on Nar Shaddaa for a while. Hed decided to take Xaverri up on her offer, and become her assistant during her next tour. He had a feeling Boba Fett wouldnt be easily discouraged, and it wouldnt hurt to get off Nar Shaddaa for the next few months.

But the words died unspoken on his lips. The moment he was ushered into their presence, Jabba hailed him with impatient cries, ordering him to prepare the Star Jewel for an immediate trip to Nal Hutta. The emissaries sent from the Desilijic and the Besadii kajidics had convened a meet-ing of the Hutt kajidics for the next day. Apparently Besadii had been holding up the negotiations, but had suddenly made several important concessions, in the interest of hold-ing the meeting quickly. Today? Hah said, thinking that hed have to cancel his lesson with Lando this afternoon. Thats pretty short no-tice, isnt it?

Yes, Jiliac agreed. We know of no reason for things to have been speeded up, but something must have hap-pened.

Okay, Ill take you down this afternoon, Hah said. Just give me an hour or so to get the ship ready, and check out our course.

And, Captain Solo, you must be prepared to give us your smoothest flight, Jabba cautioned. No turbulence. My aunt is in a delicate condition, and she must not be jostled. Han glanced around for another Hutt, but saw only Jiliae. Your aunt? I beg your pardon, Ird Jabbe? There will be three Hutts for me to transport?

No, human? Jabba was impatient. Jiliae and myself, as

always! Dont you have eyes? Didnt you notice her skin

texture? Her condition is plainV

Han looked over at Jiliac, and suddenly realized tha t the Hutt did appear different. Warty excrescences had erupted on the beings face, and purplish patches mingled with the greenish ones on the leathery tan skin. Jiliac also appeared bigger, and rather lethargic. Oh, wonderful, I get to play nursemaid to a sick Hutt? Great!

Uh, Lord Jiliac, are you feeling-Hah began, only to have Jabba round on him with withering scorn. Human idiot! Cant you see that Lord Jiliac is now Lady Jiliac? She is expecting! In her delicate condition, she really should not make this effort, but we Desilijic are noth-ing if not faithful to our duty!

She? Pregnant? Hans mouth dropped open, and Chewie roared softly in surprise. Han recovered quickly, and bewed to Jiliac. Your par-don, Lady Jiliac. I am not familiar with your species . . . uh, er . . . reproductive habits. I meant no offense. Jiliac blinked at Han sleepily. No offense taken. My people reproduce as they will, and I decided it was time for me to do so. My child is due in a few months. I will be able to make the trip safely, my nephew Jabba is merely over-protective. But a smooth flight would be advisable. Yes, lady, Han said, bowing. Smooth flight to Nal Hutta. Leaving this afternoon. Ill get right on it. Very well, Captain. You are dismissed. We wish to leave as soon as possible. Hah bowed again, and left, with Chewie trailing behind him. As soon as he was out of sight, he shook his head. Hutts! The more I get to know them, the weirder they are . . . A veritable tide of Hutts wriggled and glided toward the large Hutt Grand Council Hall on Nal Hutta. Jabba and Jiliac undulated along, side by side, accompanied by the Desilijie security guards. Most of the Hutts preferred to move under their own power if they still could. It was per-missible to show weakness before humans and other under-lings, but in the company of their own kind, Hutts preferred to appear strong and fit. All of Desilijic moved under their own power, and among the Besadii clan, only Aruk was too old and corpulent to manage without his sled.

As the Hutts moved toward the council chambers, they and their guards passed through multiple security and scan-ning devices. None of the guards was allowed a weapon, and each attendee was scanned, internally as well as exter-nally, to make sure no dangerous substances were being smuggled into the hall. Hutts were not trusting beings, es-pecially in the company of other Hutts-and with good reason. Long ago, every prominent Hutt on Nal Hutta had been eliminated en masse by a single ingenious assassin. Hutts were determined that nothing like that would ever happen again. The Grand Council Hall was a huge room, big enough to comfortably hold nearly fifty Hutts. At the moment twenty-seven Hutts were gathered-representatives of all the ma-jor clans and kajidics, as well as neutral parties from the Hutt government who would be overseeing and administer-ing the conference. The Hutt homeworld was governed by the Grand Coun-cil an oligarchy composed of one representative ap-pointed by each major Hutt clan. In reality, though, the power of the crime syndicates---the kajidics-was far greater than that of the Grand Council.

Jabba and Jiliac had summoned two other Desilijic members to attend them. Aruk had brought the Besadii contingent, consisting of himself, his offspring Durga, and his nephew Kibbick. Jabba was pleased to note that a tlanda Til trailed in Kibbicks wake. Jiliac was right, Besadii had indeed summoned Teroenza.

After the mass of Hutts had arranged themselves in a circle around the speakers platfornl, the conference was brought to order by the Executive Secretary of the Grand Council, a Hutt named Mardoc. After each of the clans had officially identified itself and its contingent, Mardoc spoke again Comrades-in-power, siblings-in-profit, I have convened you today to discuss some very serious developments on the Besadii colony world of Ylesia. I ask Lord Aruk to speak. Aruk moved his sled closer to the speakers platform. He waved his small arms at his fellow Hutts for emphasis and began, Fellow Hutts. Two days ago Colony Three on Yle-sia was attacked by well-armed terrorists. Kibbick and our overseer, Teroenza, barely escaped with their lives. Much destruction was done, and the attackers made off with neady one hundred valuable slaves. A ripple of consternation ran around the conference room as the assorted Hutts reacted to Aruks news. Jabba realized that Aruk was staring straight at him and Jiliae. Gauging our reaction, he realized. For just a moment, Jabba wondered if Jiliac had decided to play it ultra-subtle, and had arranged the raid, but not told him. After a mo-ments thought, however, he rejected the notion. His Aunt was so caught up in her recent pregnancy that she had little energy for plotting-especially commando raids. Besides, Jiliae normally eschewed direct assaults, preferring to work against enemies in more subtle ways. Hutt brethren, we of the Besadii clan demand that Jiliac, as head of clan Desilijic, personally assure us that this terrible raid, this theft of valuable Besadii property, was not done by Desilijie! Otherwise, this means war between our kajidics!

A collective gasp echoed through the Grand Hall. Aruks challenge hung in the air like the smoke from the hookahs some of the Hutt Lords were smoking.

Slowly, Jiliac pulled herself up, appearing almost regal in her new maternal dignity. Fellow Hutts, she said. Desilijic is innocent of any taint of aggression in this mat-ter. As a guarantee of this, Desilijic pledges that if any link can be discovered between the raiders and Desilijic, Desilijic will remit to Besadii the sum of one million cred-its.

Silence for a beat, then Arnk inclined his head in the Hutt equivalent of a bow. Very well. Never let it he said that Desflijie refused to back its integrity with money. We ask that the Grand Couneil investigate and give us their findings in one month.

Mardoe agreed, but then yielded the floor to Jiliac when she indicated that she had more to say. However, I wish that I eould say the same for Besadii. Just a few months ago, my nephew here-she indicated Jabba-was bru-tally attacked by hired mercenaries. Only the fact that we cannot definitively state who sent them keeps us from level-ing accusations at our rivals! Unlike Besadii, we do not make accusations unless we have prooff.

Another ,hubbub of voices and whispers erupted in the Grand Hall.

Aruk drew himself up to his most impressive height, his rheumy old eyes red-rimmed. Besadii has done nothing wrong!

Do you deny that you sent Drell pirates to assassinate my nephew?

Yes! thundered Aruk.

The resulting barrage of threats, insults, and rhetoric from both sides made it neeessary for Mardoe to call for a recess. Jahba watched the Hutts around him, talking in small groups, and began wondering just who it was who had attacked Ylesia. If it wasnt Desilijie, then who? Did Ylesia have a new rival in the slave trade?

Durga the Hutt lay stretched beside his parent on his repulsor sled during the afternoon session. He was con-cerned about Aruk. The conference had been going on for hours, and Aruk had been in the middle of it the whole time. Durga knew that his parent wasnt up to this level of stress. Arnk was a very old Hutt, nearly a thousand years old.

The young Hutt listened intently, aware that his parent would quiz him point by point on the conference. Beside Durga, Kibbick blinked slowly, obviously fighting sleep. Durga looked at his cousin scornfully, Kibbiek was an idiot. Didnt he understand that these kinds of meetings, these feints and counterfeints, thrusts and parries and ripostes, constituted the lifes fluid of Hutt society? Didnt he tinder-stand that power and profit were food and drink and breath to their people?

This was the first ttutt conference to be held in Durgas short lifetime, and he was pleased that his parent had al-lowed him to attend. Durga knew that because of the birth-mark hed been born with, some of the Besadii kajidic would question whether he was fit to lead Besadii when Aruk died. Durga knew that he had all the most essential qualities to lead Besadii. He was smart, scheming, devious, and rnth-less. All estimable qualities in a Hutt. But he had to dem-onstrate those qualities to Besadii, before Aruk died, or hed have trouble succeeding his parent.

If only I ctmld take over Ylesia, ira, read of Kibbick, Durga thought. He knew that his hther had spent a good part of yesterday evelfing raging at Kibbick for allowing Teroenza to take over the running of Ylesia. Arnk had also sternly advised the tlanda Til that he must know his place, lest he lose his position as High Priest. Teroenza had cow-ered before the old Hutt Lord, but Durga thought hed caught a flash of anger from him. He resolved to keep a careful eye on Teroenza.

Kibbick, on the other hand, had simply whined about how unpleasant life was on Ylesia, and how hard he was working. Aruk had let him off with a stern warning. Durga privately thought that Arnk should have relieved him of his post. Idly, he wondered whether assassinating his cousin was a good idea . . . But he had a feeling that Arnk wouldnt like it. So that meant he couldnt do it while his parent lived. Not that Durga wished Aruks death. He was genuinely fond of his parent, as he knew Aruk was fond of him. Durga knew only too well that he owed Aruk his life in every possible way. Most Hutt parents would not have allowed a child with a birthmark to live.

Durga also wanted to make Aruk proud of him. That motivation was even stronger in him than his need to gain power and profit-something that he knew would be seen as practically sacrilegious by other Hutts, so he never re-vealed it.

Durga watched as Jabba the Hutt wriggled forward to take the floor. The second-in-command of Desilijic was said to be an exemplary Hutt in many ways, but most Hutts found his preoccupation with humanoid females both per-verse and inexplicable. Still, Jabba was sharp, Durga had to grant him that, as he listened to him speak.

Honored Hutt Lords, listen to me[ Besadii claims that their recent expansions on Ylesia are just good business, but shall we allow good business for one kajidic to undermine the financial underpinnings of our world.9 Besadii has grabbed such a large share of the spice trade, and the slave trade, that we must all make them see reason! What does it profit them to fill their own coffers if their policies bring disaster to our world?

Disaster? Aruks voice boomed ()lit so deep and au-thoritative that Durga felt a ripple of pride. His parent was a.s fine a Hutt leader as had ever been born! Disaster, my friencks? We had one hundred and eighty-seven percent profit in the past year! How could this possibly be con-strued to be anything but something to be praised and hon-ored for? I ask you that, Jabba! How could it? Because some of your profit has cme out of the coffers of your fellow Hutts, Jabba pointed out. It is fine to take from others, from humans and Rodians and Sullustans and from all the other creatures of the galaxy. That is why they are there-so that we Hutts may profit from them. But there is a danger in pulling away too much income from Nal Hutta and your fellow Hutts.

Oh? sarcasm tinged Anlks voice. And what is that danger, Lord Jabba? Too much conspicuous profit may bring us to the atten-tion of the Emperor or his minions, Jabba pointed out. Nal Hutta is far from Imperial Center. Out here near the Rim Territories, we are protected to some extent by dis-tance, and protected even more by Moff Sam Shild, whom we generously support in the style to which he has become accustomed. But if any one Hurt clan makes a point of having tremendous wealth, it may bring all of us to the attention of the Emperor. And that, fellow Hutts, is an attention we do not want.

Durga heard the other Hurts murmuring, and had to admit that Jabba had made a good point. When the Empire took a close interest in any one world, it was always unfor-tunate for that world. Durga wondered how Jabba and Jiliac had discovered that Besadii was behind the attack of Drell pirates. Too bad theyd missed their chance to rid Nal Hutta of Jabba. With-out Jabba, Jiliac would be easier to get out of the way. Jabba was a crafty Hutt, who was protective of his Aunt. His security forces were better than Jiliacs.

The Hutt Lords were unable to reach a conclusion about Besadiis off-the-scale profits. The discussion rambled on, degenerated into personal insults, then ended with no con-clusion. Aruk took the floor again. He was still concerned about the recent violence. Jiliac acknowledged that she was con-cerned, too. Durga was surprised that they could agree on anything. Finally, Desilijic and Besadii united to put for-ward an unprecedented proposal.

I propose, Aruk said, in summary, that the Grand Council declare a moratorium on violence between the kajidics for at least the next three standard months! Who will support me in this? Jiliac and Jabba voiced their enthusiastic approval, then, one by one, the representatives of the other clans chimed in. Mardoc declared Aruks proposal adopted.

Durga looked up at his parent and felt another wave of pride. Aruk is a giant among Hutts!

Much later that night, as both Hurts prepared to sleep in Jiliacs Nal Hutta mansion, which was located on an island / in one of Nal Huttas more temperate zones, Jiliac turned/ to Jabba. Aruk is dangerous. I am more convinced of i than ever.

Yes, he was quite impressive when he managed to rally the clans, Jabba agreed. He has . . . charisma. He can be very persuasive.

It is truly ironic that it was Arnk who wound up propos-ing my idea about the moratorium, Jiliac said. But as the meeting progressed, I realized that if I hoped to convince the others of the wisdom of the moratorium, the idea would have to come from Aruk.

Jabba nodded. He is a forceful orator, Aunt.

An orator who must be deprived of his voice, or Desilijic will suffer even more, Jiliac said soberly. A three-month moratorium on inter-kajidic violence will free our minds so that we may look at the problem of Arnk without distractions.

Jabba blinked his bulbous eyes at his aunt as she settled herself comfortably on her padded resting spot. What are you thinking, Aunt?

Jiliac was silent for a momenL then said, I am thinking that this is our chance to strike at Aruks weak spot. His weak spot?

Yes, Nephew. Aruk has a weak spot, and it has a name.

And that name is . . .

Teroenza, Jabba said.

Correct, Nephew.

When Teroenza boarded Kibbicks space yacht for the trip back to Ylesia, he was in a very bad mood. Aruk had not permitted them to have any kind of a holiday on Nal Itutta, stressing that they must get back to Ylesia to see to the rebuilding after the raid.

Teroenza had been profoundly disappointed. Hed hoped to see his mate, Tilenna, while he was home. But Aruk had said no, and said it with such stern dis-approval that Teroenza hadnt dared to ask again. So here he was, stuck with that idiot Kibbick for com-pany. When he could have been sporting with his lovely mate in a delicious, sensual mud wallow.

Disgustedly, Teroenza plodded into his large, well-appointed cabin, and sank into his resting sling. Blast Arnk! The Hutt Lord was getting irrational in his old age-irra-tional and mean. Meaner, that is, than hed been before.

The High Priest still smarted from the financial review

hed been forced to sit through. Aruk had questioned every

expenditure, carped about every extra credit. Hed gone on

and on about how the bounty Teroenza had posted on Solo

was completely unnecessary. Let Boba Fett blast him into

atoms! hed raged. Disintegrations are much cheaper! Allowing yourself personal revenge on Solo is simply selfindulgenff Grumpily, Teroenza reached out and turned on his comm unit. Words in Huttese formed on the screen, even before he could key in his personal code.

Eyes widening, Teroenza read the following message

This message will vanish in sixty seconds. Attempting to save it will destroy your comm unit. Memorize the follow-ing comeode and reply to it.

A complicated comeode followed.

Intrigued, Teroenza memorized the code. As promised, in sixty seconds, it blinked off, to be replaced by the words What do you want most? Wed like to know. Perhaps we can help each other. The message, of course, was unsigned, but Teroenza had a good idea of who had sent it. As he sat watching it blink off, to be replaced by his corem units standard greeting and request for ID code, Teroenza realized what this meant.

Would he reply to the message?

Was he a traitor?

What did he want most?

Cnn nams

Then Han flew Jabba back to Nar Shaddaa following the big Hutt conference (Jiliac had decided to stay on Nal Hutta for the length of her confinement) he immedi-ately sought out Lando Calrissian. During his trip to Nal Hutta, Chewbacca had been con-tinuing the young gamblers piloting lessons, and Han was encouraged at his new friends progress. Youre coming right along, old buddy, he said as Lando, his mouth tight with concentration, executed a perfect landing. The ship settled into the Millennium Falcons assigned berth with nary a wobble. Another week, and youll be ready to solo. Lando glanced up at Han, his dark eyes very serious. I think Im ready now, Hall. Fact is, Ive got to be ready now. Im leaving tomorrow. Ive heard theres some good gam-bling and pleasure wodds out in the Oseonian system, and Im heading out to see for myself. Or maybe Ill hit the Corporate Sector. Lando, thats clean out of Imperial space! Han ex-claimed. Youre not ready to navigate this ship that far!

Especially flying ,done!

Want to come with me? Lando offered.

Han thought about it, and for a moment was tempted. But hed given his word to Xaverri, and . . . he shook his head. Cant, Lando. Im signing on with Xaverri to work for her during this next tour. I promised her, and shes counting on me.

Not to mention that shes a lot prettier than I am, Lando added dryly. Hah grinned. Well . . . there /s that. He sobered. Just wait a couple more days, Lando. Trust me, pal, youre not ready yet to go that far, especially with no copriot. Inwardly he was thinking, Im losing the Falcon . . . what if I never see her again ?

Chewbacca here has been giving me good lessons, the gambler insisted. Hes barely had to touch the controls the last couple of times Ive taken us out. But-Han began.

No buts, Lando said. Im living on borrowed time here on Nar Shaddaa, Han-and so are you. Boba Fett isnt one to forgive and forget. Im making myself scarce for at least six months. When does Xaverri leave? Next week, Itan said. Her engagement was held over am)ther week. By popular denrand. Have you told Jabba that youre leaving?

Yeah, I did. He wasnt happy about it.

Chewie interjected a comment.

Hey, Jabba was born cranky, Han said defensively. Hes one of the orneriest Hutts Ive met-and thats sayin something.

Did you tell him why youve got to leave?

Yeah, I did. That was the only thing that calmed him down. I think even Jabba might be a little nervous if he knew Boba Fett was gunning for him.

Well . . . if I were you, Id get out of here as soon as you can, Lando said. And until youre off Nar Shaddaa, youd better watch your back.

Nothing Han said could change Landos decision. It was with a heavy heart that he stood on the landing platform the next morning and watched the Falcon take off. The freighter wobbled slightly as she went soaring into the sky. Han shook his head. Use your stabilizers! he said, aloud. Hes not ready, he thought dejectedly. Ill probably never see the Falcon---or Lando---again. Bria Thar en sat at her desk at the largest Imperial mili-tary base on CoreIlia, watching the screen of her datapad as she updated the food requisition lists for all troops sta-tioned in the Corellian system. Her reddish-gold hair, which had grown into a long, curly mane during the past five years, was swept up in a smart, businesslike style, and she wore a crisp civilian support staff uniform-black jacket and skirt, with black boots. The unrelieved black set off her pale skin and exquisite bone structure. Her blue-green eyes narrowed as she studied the screens of data. The Empire was definitely building up strength in this sector. Did that mean the Imperial com-manders were anticipating some kind of rebellion here in the Corellian system?

She found herself wondering how long her group could manage to hold off the Empire if it attacked in force. Two days? A week?

In the end, theyd all be slaughtered, she knew that. Their small group of rebels was growing every month, as the people of her world grew restive at being ground be-neath Palpatines relentless heel. But there was no way they were ready yet to take on the Imperial forces.

From a very small beginning, though, theyd made good progress over the past three years. Their movement had started with barely a score of unhappy dissidents gathering for clandestine meetings in cellars, and had grown by leaps and bounds, until they now had cells in most of the major cities on the planet. Bria had no idea how many rebels tilere were on CoreIlia, but it had to be several thousand. The reason she had no idea how many rebels were on Corelha was that it was not necessary for her to know. Even though she was fairly high-ranking in the rebel hierarchy, stle was not part of personnel or recruitment. Information about the rebel groups on her world was doled out spar-ingly. Only one or two commanders knew the whole pic-ture. Individual members were informed strictly on a need to know basis. The less they knew, the less they could be forced to reveal under torture. Brias current assignment was in intelligence. She didnt particularly like spying, but she was good at it. She pre-ferred her old job, though, that of mang contact with rebel groups on other worlds. It was obvious to her that if the rebels were to really oppose the Empire, theyd have to unite. But, so far, theyd barely begun reaching out to other groups. Communication was monitored, travel was re-stricted it was so difficult to maintain links between groups on different planets. As fast as their rebel group devised codes, the Imperials broke them.

Just last month one cell of rebels had been raided during a meeting on the eastern continent. Theyd disappeared as completely as though a krayt dragon had opened its mouth and swallowed them whole. Bria thought that shed much prefer to be gobbled alive by a monster than caught by the Emperors security forces . . .

Her friend Lanah had been one of those taken. Bria knew shed never see her again. Bria was worried that her entire homeworld would wind up as a police state. CoreIlia had always been an indepen-dent world, a proud world that governed itself. So far, the Emperor had not appointed an Imperial governor to usurp all power on CoreIlia. But that didnt mean he wouldnt someday. The Empire did not allow pride or independence in the worlds it claimed.

One of the reasons for Palpatines not overtly taking over the Corellian government was that Corellia had such a large human population. The Empire made no secret of the fact that it regarded nonhuman species as inferior, incapa-ble of governing themselves.

Two alien species shared the Corellian system worlds with their human inhabitants, the Selonians and the Drall. If CoreIlia had been inhabited solely by those nonhuman sentients, theyd have been a much more inviting target for repression-possibly even being declared a slave-labor planet. Look at what had happened to Kashyyyk. The proud Wookiees captured and led away in binders and shackles . . . Brias fingers tightened on the edge of her desk. She hated the Empire, but even more than the Empire, she hated slavery. Having been a slave on Ylesia (though at the time shed called herself a pilgrim), Bria was determined to do everything she could to destroy the Empire that al-lowed slavery, that used and owned beings.

When that task was done, she would devote whatever remained of her life to freeing every slave in the galaxy.

Her lovely mouth turned down at the comers as she thought about the raid six months ago that shed led on Ylesia. She and her rebel friends had managed to rescue ninety-seven slaves, mostly Corellians, and bring them back to their homeworlds and their families.

Within the next month, fifty-three of those freed slaves had run away and boarded ships to return to Ylesia.

In a way, Bria couldnt blame them. Living without the Exultation was difficult. It had taken her years to overcome her craving for the feel-good rush of euphoria the tlanda Td priests could project. But forty-four of the freed slaves are still free, Bria re-minded herself fiercely. And just yesterday Rion told me that one of the women had sent him a nvessage, thanking him for returning her to her husband and children . . .

Rion was Brias main link to rebel command now that shed taken this new position at lmperial headquarters. It was Rion to whom she reported every scrap of information she could glean. He took tile information that Bria could gather or construe, then relayed it to the leaders of the Corellian underground rebel group.

Bria hoped that soon shed have more than bureaucratic lists of supply requisition orders to relay to her group. Ever since shed taken this job last month, shed been careful to wear the most flattering hairstyles and makeup, hoping that her looks would bring her to the attention of a high-ranking Imperial officer. Her efforts were paying off, too. Just yesterday admiral Trefaren had stopped by her desk to ask her if she would accompany him to a reception that was being held by the Corellian government for the high-ranking Imperial of-ricers. Several Sector Moffs were supposed to attend. It would be quite a gala evening, hed assured her.

Bria had lowered her eyelids coyly, blushed attractively, and breathed a halting, girlish yes. The Admiral had beamed at her, the deep lines that ran vertically down his sallow cheeks appearing even more like canyons in the des-ert, and told her hed pick her up in his chauffeured speeder. Then hed reached out and touched one of her curls, letting it wind around his finger. And, my dear, hed added, wear something that will set off your beauty. I want the other officers to be jealous of the golden treasure Ive discovered. Bria hadnt had to feign her inarticulate response-which had only charmed him further!--because shed been too angry to speak clearly. The old lecher! she thought dis-gustedly, resolving not to forget to strap her dainty little vibroblade to her upper thigh . , . just in case. But usually, men of his age were more talk than action. What they mostly wanted, as the admiral had frankly admit-ted, was for other men to admire them-and any attractive young woman theyd managed to snare with their power and wealth.

Admiral Trefaren might be our key to learn more about these new Imperial weapons and ships weve heard rumors of, Bria thought.

So, when the evening of the reception came, shed don a lovely, elegant gown (shed grown up the daughter of a rich man, and knew how to dress for maximum effect), style her hair, tastefully paint her face, and spend the evening smil-ing warmly at Admiral Trefaren. Shed dance with him, give him admiring glances, and keep her ears open for every scrap of information.

And, just in case she needed help in fending off his advances, Bria already had a tiny drop of a substance she planned to wear beneath one manicured fingernail. All she had to do was touch the tip of her fingernail to the surface of his drink of choice, toward the end of the evening, and the old vrelt would swiftly become so pleasantly tired, sleepy, and drunk that shed have no trouble dealing with him. Bria could use that vibroblade, and use it well, but she had no intention of doing so. Vibroblades were for ama-teurs. She was an expert at not needing them.

For a moment she missed her battle fatigues, the weight of her blaster strapped to her thigh. Shed much prefer leading another armed raid against the Ylesian Hutts, or tile Imperial slavers (who were even worse than the Hutts), than she did the prospect of playing tabaga-and-vrelt all evening with Admiral Trefaren and his Imperial cronies.

Shed turned over her blaster to Rion when shed taken on this assignment. It wasnt improbable that Admiral Trefaren would have her apartment searched as part of the background cheek hed get his minions to perform, to en-sure that she was safe for him to be seen with. Bria al-ways kept the vibroblade with her, so she wasnt worried about searchers finding it. At least she knew her IDs would stand up to most secu-rity checks. Six years ago shed learned all about establish-ing new identities from an expert. Hah Solo had taught her much more than just how to fire a blaster effectively.

Her lips curved in a soft smile as she indulged herself in a moment of nostalgia for those days. She and Han had been on tile run together, living on the edge, never know-ing what would happen next. Those had been the happiest days of her life, she real-ized now. It had been worth every tense moment, every jolt of fear, every mad chase, every terrified escape, every blaster bolt shed had to duck to be with him . . . to be free to love him.

And she loved him stfik

Seeing him on Devaron a year ago had brought it all back to her so vividly. After years of denial, Bria had had to admit the truth to herself. Hain Solo was the man she loved, would always love. But they couldnt be to gether. Shed had to accept that. Han was a con man, a rogue, an outlaw who was out for himself. Bria knew hed loved her deeply-hed even asked her to marry him-but Han wasnt the kind of man to for-sake everything for a philosophical ideal.

During the months theyd spent together, Bria had sensed that someday he might have the potential to em-brace a cause, give himself to a goal. But it would have to be a cause that hed chosen for himself, in his own time. Bria knew she couldnt expect him to adopt her cause.

She wondered what he was doing right now. Was he happy? Was he with somebody? Did he have friends? When shed seen him on Devaron, hed been wearing typi-cally scruffy spacefarers garb-not an Imperial uniform.

But shed heard hed graduated from the Academy with honors. What could have happened to end his career?

On one hand, Bria was sorry that the dream hed pur-sued so single-mindedly had obviously come to a crashing end, but on the other, she was glad to discover that Han was no longer an Imperial officer. It had tortured her to tiNink that someday they might come face-to-face in battle, or, even worse, that she might give the order to fire on an Imperial ship and cause his death, all unknowing. At least she didnt have to worry about that possibility anymore.

I wonder if Ill ever see him again . . . she thought. Maybe . . . maybe when this is all over, when the Empire was no more . . .

Bria gave herself a mental shake, and told herself to get back to business. The Empire was firmly entrenched. Root-ing it out would require many years, and the sacrifice of countless lives. She couldnt let herself think about what might happen in the dim, distant future. She had to con-centrate on the here and now.

Resolutely, she activated her datapad again, and went back to work. At the same moment as Bria Tharen was wondering about him, Han Solo was not thinking about her. He was, however, feeling more wounded by a woman than he had at any time since Bria Tharen had left him. He sat on the edge of the bed in a hotel room on Velga, a luxury moon where the wealthy came to be entertained and play games of chance, scowling and reading Xaverris message on his datapad. It said Dear Solo,

I cant stand good-byes, so Im not going to put either of us through one. The tour is over, and Im off )qr a short rest before taking to the road again. I thought about asking you to go with me, but I think itk better that I make a clean break now.

The last six months have been wonderfi, l, among the best I can recall. During that time Ive grown very fond of you, clear. Too fond. You know me by now . . . I cant afford to get too fond of anyone. That would be danger-ous for both of us. Caring too much about another per-son makes you soft, makes you vulnerable. In my line of business, I cant afford that.

Ive paid the hotel bill through tomorrow for you and Chewbacca. Youve been two of the best assistants and companions Ive ever had. Tell him Im sorry I couldnt say farewell. There is a bonus fir you both in the local branch of the Imperial Bank, account code 6,51374, keyed to your retinal scan. lm going to miss you more than I can say. If you ever need to contact me, you can do so through the Galaxy of Stars booking agency. Maybe someday we can do it all again, when Ive gotten my perspective back.

Take care of yourself Hah. And take care of your Wookiee friend. Devotion like that is rare. Love,

Xaverri

Blast! Hah thought, not sure whether what he was feel-ing was anger or profound regret-some mixture of both, lie guessed. Why does thi ahcays happen to rm,?

For a moment lie remembered the anguish that had engulfed him when Bria had left him with just a good-bye note, then he wrenched his mind away from that memory. That was a brag time ago. Im not a kid anynwre . . .

He realized that hed have to book commercial flights back to Nar Shaddaa for himself and Chewqe. But that wouldnt eat into his savings too much, especially in light of Xaverris bonus. She paid well, tJlough she had high expec-tations.

During the past six months, theyd been more like busi-ness partners than employee and employer, Every time theyd pulled a successful scare on some puffed-up Impe-rial officer, or some smug, complacent Imperial bureaucrat Xaverri had shared the proceeds equally with Han and Chewie. Hans mouth curved into a reminiscent smile. Theyd had some exciting times. With all the experience hed had conning civilians while part of Garris Shrikes family, Hah had thought he had little to learn about the art of scamming people. But a month with Xaverri had convinced him that compared to her, Garris Shrike had been a clumsy, menda-cious amateur.

Xaverris schemes had ranged from elegantly simple to fiendishly complex. She seldom pulled exactly the same scam twice. Instead she tailored each caper to the mark, frequently using her skills as an illusionist to trick the pompous Imperials she preyed upon.

There had been that time theyd conned the Assistant Secretary to the DAelgoth Sector Moff out of most of his life savings-and put him under suspicion of committing treason to the Empire. Hans smile broadened into a grin. The guy was a venal jerk sooner or later he wouldve be-trayed the Empire anyhow.

Not that ,all their scams had been successful. Two had fizzled out, and one had blown up in their faces, forcing them to run from the planetary officials until Chewbacca had been able to locate them and pick them up.

Han would never forget that escape-running, dodging, pursued through the countryside by tracer droids and the local version of canold-hounds. The only way theyd been able to hide their scent was to spend the night up to their necks in a swamp.

Hed also enjoyed his work as Xaverris stage assistant. It had been fun, helping to create the illusions, finding out how it was really done, and taking a bow before cheering crowds, night after night. Even Chewbacca had gotten to enjoy the public attention, and Xaverri had worked up sev-eral tricks that gave Chewie a chance to show off his Wookiee strength.

The hardest thing for Han had been getting used to the skintight, spangled stage costume hed had to wear. Hed felt horribly self-conscious the first few times hed gone onstage wearing it. But eventually hed gotten used to it, and even learued to enjoy the hoots and whistles from some of the female audience members when hed make his entrance.

Xaverri had teased him about that, especially the time a girl had dashed up onstage and kissed him full on the mouth, making him blush. Hah had teased her back about her costumes, which were often daring. Han sighed. If only Id known she was planning this. I could have talked to her... Already he missed her, missed her presence, her smile, her affection. Her warmth, her kisses . . . She was a special woman, and Han knew now that hed loved her. Would it have made rely difference if hed told her? He decided that it wouldnt. As her letter said, Xaverri was not someone who wanted love. She didnt want to love, or to be loved. Love, shed discovered, made you too vul-nerable. Love makes you love life, shed told him once. And once you love life, youre in real danger. You want to hold on to it, and that wanting clouds your thinking.

You want to hold on to which? Han had asked her

Love, or life?

Both, she said. Love is the riskiest thing in the uni-verse.

Xaverri had risked herself more than anyone hed ever knoana in everything except love. If she hadnt been so coolly deliberate, hed have called her reckless. But she wasnt. Danger meant nothing to her, because she didnt worry about dying. Han had seen her stare death in the face without turning a hair. One time hed complimented her on her courage. Shed shaken her head. No, Solo, she said. Im not brave. Ymre brave. You have courage. I just dont eare. They arent the same thing. He sighed again, then rose froln the bed. Xaverri was gone. By now her ship, The Phantasm, was long gone from Velga.

Okay, he thought, reaching for his clothes, shows over.

Time to go back to the real world . . .

At least he and Chewie now had plenty of money to lease their own ship. For the first time in a long while, Hah wondered how things were going back on Nar Shaddaa. When they got back to the Smugglers Moon, Han was surprised to realize that it felt like coming home. He and Chewie went to see Mako first. They found him and Boa having a companionable drink together at one of the taw erns. Hah entered the place, grinned, and waved. Mako! Roa!

Both men turned at the hail and grinned broadly. Hah!

Chewbacca!

Hey, Roa! Hey, Mako, Han said. Hows business?

Not bad, Mako said. Jabba misses you, kid.

Oh, yeah, Im sure, Han said with a chuckle. Did Jiliac have her baby Hutt? Dont know, Roa said. She aint been around, though. So maybe not. Howre you doin, kid? Youve been gone so long, we thought Boba Fett had got you!

Hah grinned back. Not yet, he said. He been around much?

Mako glanced around reflexively, Well, they said he was here on Nar Shaddaa lookin for you, several months ago. But nobodys seen him lately.

Good. Keep me informed, Han said. So . . . anyone seen Lando? He tried to seem casual. He still got that old clunker of his, the Millennium Falcon?

Oh, yeah, hes still got it, Boa said. And, Han, youre not gonna believe this. Calrissian made a killing out there in the Oseon system. Picked up a load of life-crystals, and sold em for a bundle. Guess what hes into now?

Han made a ribald guess. Both Boa and Mako cracked up.

Chewie roared an interrogatory.

Hes bought himself a used spaceship lot! Mako said. Got it lock, stock, and barrel from a Duros whod decided to go back to Duro and tend the family farm.

Well, Im in the market for a ship to lease, Han said.

Guess Ill pay Lando a visit, see what he s got.

Better see Jabba first, Mako advised. Hes put the word out that as soon as you came back to send you on.

Han nodded. Okay. Ill do that. Where can I find Landos place?

They gave him the coordinates.

With a cheerful wave, Hah headed out of the tavern. He found that it was good to be back. The interval wSth Xaverri had been pleasant, and profitable, but his real calling was smuggling, and he was eager to get back to it.

Jabba was so pleased to see Han that he actually wrig-gled dom off his dais and undulated toward the Corellian. Han, my boy! Youve returned!

Han nodded, and decided not to bow. Jabba had obvi-ously missed him. Hello, Jabba... Your Excellency. Hows business?

Jabba sighed theatrically. Business would be much bet-ter if only Besadii would learn that they are not the only rightful destination for the credits in the galaxy. Hah . . . I must admit that I have missed you. We lost a ship in fire

Maw, and it cost Desilijic dearly. We need you, Ham

Well, this time youre going to have to pay me more, Jabba, Han said resolutely. Chewie and me are about to lease our own ship. Thatll be better for both of us-you wont risk your ships, and I wont have to take less cause Im flyin your ship.

Fine, fine, Jabba said. That is fine, Han.

But, Jabba, I gotta tell you, Hah said. Theres still a bounty on my head. Teroenzas got to have talked Besadii into a pretty big one. Most of these bounty hunters I can deal with, no problem. But if I get any hints that Boba Fett is back on my trail, I aint hanging around here. Im gone. Ill operate out of Smugglers Run. Even Fett isnt dedi-cated enough to head into the Run.

Han, lad! Jabba looked pained. We need you!

Desilijic needs you! Youre one of the best! Han grinned, liking the feeling of being on more equal footing with the Hutt Lord. Hey, Jabba, Im the best, he said. And Im gonna be provin it. Chewie roared. Jabba waved at the Wookiee. What did he say?

He said, Were the best, Han replied. Hes right.

Soon everyone is gonna know it.

Hans next stop, as promised, was Landos used ship-yard. He and Chewie went straight to the office, where they found a small, multi-armed droid with a single ruby-red eye in charge. Wheres Lando? Han demanded.

My master is not here at the moment, sir, the little droid replied. May I be of service? I am Vuffi Raa, his assistant.

Hah looked at Chewbacca, who rolled his blue eyes.

I want to speak to Lando, Han said. Where is he?

Out in the shipyard, Vuffi Raa replied. But . . . sir! Wait! Admittance to the shipyard is not permitted unless Master Calrissian has authorized it! Sir! Come back! Sir!

Hah kept on walking. Chewbacca, however, did stop. As the little droid approached him, arms flailing, he let loose with a snarl that swiftly built to a full-throated roar. Vuffi Raa stopped in his tracks so fast that he nearly fell over backward, then went scuttling off, calling Master! Mas-ter! in a plaintive voice. Hah found Lando out back, with the Falcon. He didnt know which one of them he was gladder to see. The Falcon was .all in one piece, he was pleased to note.

For once, the gambler wasnt his usual dapper self. Hah was surprised to see that he was wearing greasy mechanics coverails, and his hands were filthy as he gripped a hydros-panner. Lando! Han shouted.

His friend turned around, and his handsome features lit up. Han, you old pirate! How long have you been back? Just got home, Han said, shaking Landos hand. They grabbed each other, thumping each other on the back, then stood back, grinning. Hey, Han, its good to see you, man!

You, too!

Before the end of the day, Han and Chewie had leased their new ship from Lando. It was a small SoroSuub freighter, Starmite-class, heavily modified. The ship was about two-thirds the size of the Millennium Falcon, and had a blunt, rounded bow, thick, stubby wings, and a rounded, thick body that narrowed back to a flattened tail section. The ship resembled a coarse, unstreamlined tear-drop and, as one of Hans Quarren acquaintances later told him, looked like something we raise for snacks. Each of the wings ended in a gun turret that held two fixed laser cannons, and the pilot also controlled a set of laser cannons mounted on the bow.

Hah christened her the Bria.

Lord Aruk wishes to see you, Your Excellency, Ganar Tos, Teroenzas majordomo, said. He is waiting in your office.

The High Priest tensed. I dont think I can take any more of his criticism! he thought, hoisting himself out of his resting sling resentfully.

Lord Arnk and his offspring Durga had come for a spe-cial inspection tour of the Ylesian operation two days ago. Teroenza had been proud to show them the progress theyd made, the new factories, the productive pilgrims, the stead-ily growing supply of valuable spice that theyd ship off-world. Hed even been able to show them the new cleared plot of land for the new colony-Colony Eight. But the more Teroenza had shown the Hutt Lord, the more Aruk had nitpicked. The High Priest was beginning to feel a little desperate.

Now, as he lumbered down the hallway of the Administration Building in Colony One, Teroenzas mind was busy composing replies to any of the charges Aruk might fling at

him. Production was up. The workers were efficient. They

were exploring new exports . . . those nala-tree frogs, for

example,

Aruk had developed quite a tttste for them during his visit. Kibbick had introduced them to his uncle, insisting that Aruk had to try them. Durga had sampled them also, and had pronounced himself unimpressed, but Aruk had loved the ugly amphibians, and had commanded Teroenza to make sure he received a supply of live ones on every ship shuttling between Ylesia and Nal Hutta. Teroenza entered his office, tr4ng not to let his nervous-ness show. I am tiere, Your Excellency, he said to Aruk.

The Hutt Ixrd was accompanied only by his offspring, Durga. He looked up at Teroenza. We need to have a talk, High Priest, he said gruffly.

Oh, no. This is worse than I feared, Teroenza thought.

Yes, Your Excellency?

I am canceling your vacation, High Priest, Aruk said. I want you to stay here and bring Kil)bick up to speed on all Ylesian operations. His level of ignorance is shameful, and it is your fault! Teroenza, you have forgotten who are the true lords of Ylesia. You have grown arrogant, and think yourself in command. This is not permissible. You must learn your place, High Priest. When you have learned to serve, to take the subservient role in governing this world, you will be rewarded. Only then can you return to Nal Hutta.

Teroenza remained silent during Aruks tirade. When the Hutt Lord finally ran down, he found himself wanting to quit, to just walk away from the entire ridiculous opera-tion. Kibbick was an idiot, and no amount of coaching from his overseer was going to make the young Hutt into any-thing but an idiot!

And he hadnt seen his mate, Tilenna, in a year. What if she decided to mate with someone else because he had been gone so long? How could he expect her to remain faithful under these circumstances? Resentment boiled up inside the tlanda Til, but with a great effort of will, tie managed to conceal his reaction.

It shall be as you say, Your Excellency, he murmured.

I shall do my best.

See that you do, Aruk rumbled, in his deepest, most threatening tone. You are dismissed, High Priest. Teroenzas hot rage boiled and bubbled as he walked back to his quarters; but by the time he reached them, he was calm again. Strangely, coldly calm. He lowered himself into his resting sling and dismissed his majordomo.

If his thoughts could have been expressed in one word, it would have been Enough. After a few more minutes of consideration, the High Priest reached for his comlink. The code hed memorized all those months ago came readily to his fingers as he tapped it out. And then, he keyed in the following message

I am willing to talk. What do you have to offer?

With a triumphant, savage stab of his dainty, finger, he keyed the message to SEND. Teroenza leaned back in his resting sling and, for the first time in six months, felt at peace with the universe.

The man in the Mandalorian armor walked steadily down the dark, cavernous entrance hall of Jabba the Hutts palace on Tatooine. Once, years ago, the man had been a Journeyman Protector named Jaster Mereel. That had been before he killed a man, and paid the price for his crime. Now he had no name save the one he had adopted for himself---Boba Fett. Over the past ten years, hed become the best-known and most feared bounty hunter in the Em-pire. He was not an ImperiM bounty hunter, though at times he worked for the Empire. He was not a Guild bounty hunter, though he regularly took Guild commis-sions and paid dues. No, Boba Fett was an independent bounty hunter. He set his own hours, selected his own commissions, and lived by his own rules. He paused midway down the stairs leading to Jabbas throne room to survey what lay before him. The huge chamber was dark, cavernous, filled with booming music. Everywhere bodies milled and swayed. Fetts gaze followed the movements of several of Jabbas humanoid dancing girls, admiring their lithe suppleness. The bounty hunter was not one to indulge in sybaritic pleasures of the flesh, however. Boba Fett was far too self-disciplined to seek car-hal gratification. The joy of the hunt was his sole pleasure, what he lived for. The credits were an extra, a necessary bonus, a means to accomplish his ends, but it was the hunt that nurtured him, kept him strong and self-reliant and focused. As Fett descended the steps that led into Jabbas audi-ence chamber, the Hutt Lords Twilek majordomo, Lobb Gerido, bustled toward the bounty hunter, bowing unctu-ously and babbling greetings in his fractured Basic. Fett ignored him.

Rea lizing that he would never be allowed to approach Jabba carrying his BlasTech EE-3 rifle, Fett carefully laid it down on the bottom step. He was still armed dangerously enough to have killed Jabba and completely destroyed the audience chamber, and Jabba probably knew that, but the Hurt Lord also knew Boba Fetts reputation for honesty. Jabba had paid him to come he/e and speak with him, and it would have been a breach of bounty hunter protocol for Fett to accept such a meeting if hed had an outstanding bounty on Jabbas grotesque head.

Leaving his blast rifle on the stairs, Fett strode straight up to Jabbas dais. The Hutt Ixrd was reclining above the crowd, so hed be high enough up to have the best view of all the degenerate festivities. Even from inside the Mandalorian face mask, Boba Fett could whiff the pungent odor of the Hutt. Something between ancient mold and garbage . . .

At a gesture from the Hutt Lord, the band quieted down. Fett stood before Jabba, and inclined his head slightly. He spoke Basic. You sent for me?

I did, boomed Jabba in Huttese. Do you understand me, bounty hunter? Fett inchned his helmeted head in a yes.

Very well. Lobb Gerido, clear the room, and then make yourself scarce. Yes, Master, the Twilek babbled, and then he scuttled about, head-rails flying, shooing all tile sycxphants and hangers-on out of the audience chamber. Finally, with a last bow, Gerido himself vanished. Jabba glanced around, took a puff off his hookah pipe, then, when lie was sure they were alone, he leaned forward confidingly. Bounty hunter, I thank you for coming to see me. Your five thousand credits will be deposited before you leave this throne room. Fett nodded silently. I have already spoken to the Guild representative in this sector, and arranged a generous endowment of the Guildhouse, Jabba said. However, he told me that you are not governed by the Guild, though you sometimes take on Guild coalmissions.

Thats correct, Fett continned. He was becoming in-trigued. If Jabba just wanted someone dead, why this elab-orate buildup? What was the Bloated One getting at?

Jabba puffed thoughtfifily on his water pipe for nearly a minute, cogitating, his bulbous eyes with their slitted pupils blinking. Do you know why I have summoned you here, bounty limiter? Im assuming its becanse you want to post a bounty, so Ill hunt down and kill someone, Fett said. Thats why people contact me.

No, Jabba said. He put the hookah aside and stared levelly at Fett, obviously getting to the point. I want to pay you to not kill someone.

The macrobinocular viewplate that was built into Fetts Mandalorian helmet included infrared vision, plus motion and sound sensors. The bounty hunter could literally see Jabba tense, and change color. This is important to him, Fett realized, surprised. Most Hutts were such phenome-nally selfsh beings that hed never heard of one willing to stick his neck out for anyone.

State your offer, Fett said.

There is an outstanding bounty of twenty thousand credits on a human who has proven very useful to me. I wish to pay you twenty-five thousand to ignore that bounty until further notice. Fett had one word for Jabba. Who?

Han Solo. Hes a good pilot, the best. He runs our spice on schedule, and the Imperials can never catch him. Hes proven extremely valuable to Desilijic. Ill pay you to stop hunting him. Boba Fett stood there in silence, thinking hard.

For the first time in years, the bounty hunter was in a quandary, torn between his duty, his need for extra credits, and his own personal desires. Jabbas offer was tempting in many ways. Boba Fetts ship, Slave I, had recently been damaged in an asteroid field, and Fett needed some rather expensive repairs to get the weapons systems back up to full capability.

On the other hand, hed been looking forward to bring-ing Solo in for a long time, ever since he and that gambler friend of his, Calrissian, had captured, drugged, and robbed the bounty hunter. Boba Fett couldnt allow two space bums to get the best of him and live . . .

On the other hand, just last week, Lord Aruk of Besadii had contacted Boba Fett in an interstellar holo-communi-eation, and told him that he was no longer willing to pay top credits for Solo. Instead, he wanted a priority live deliv-ery bounty on a Corellian woman, Bria Tharen. Hed raised the amount, too. Tile bounty on her was fifty thousand credits. And the Hutt Lord had reduced the bounty on Solo to ten thousand credits, disintegration now permitted. Ter-oenza, Fett gathered, was unaware of this change. Fifty thousand credits was the biggest bounty currently on Boba Fetts list. Hed immediately begun searching for this woman named Tharen, whom Aruk had described as being a leader in the Corellian rebel movement. The Besadii Lord said she had led a raid to Ylesia to rescue slaves, and she was also suspected of leading several space raids to free slaves bound from Ylesia to the mines of Kes-sel. Fett had checked his sources, and traced the woman to CoreIlia, then to one of the Outer Rim sectors, but then shed dropped out of sight completely. There was one pos-sible lead linking her to a private yacht bound for Corns-cant, but that was an unconfirmed rumor at this point. But . . . Fett hated the thought of not bringing in Solo to face a humiliating, painful end at the hands of the High Priest, Teroenza. Fett had tortured captives, when neces-sary, to obtain information. He didnt take pleasure in it-or in their deaths, when that was what the bounty required. But for Han Solo, he was willing to make an excep-tion . . .

Well? Jabbas deep voice boomed, startling Fett out of his reflections. What do you say, bounty hunter? Boba Fett thought fast, and finally. arrived at a solution that was, he felt, the best under the circumstances. It al-lowed him to maintain his integrity as a bounty hunter, while .also allowing him to do the practical thing. Very well, he said. Ill take the twentyfive thousand. Aruk wants me to tmrue Tharen c a priority anyway, he told himself, so Hl be.fi, lfilling the client wish. And the bounty on the Tharen woman is fifty th,ntsand, so when Ive brought her in, Ill send Jabba back his twenty-five, then hunt and kill Solo. Honor is satisfied, Ill have Jidfilled my commissions, and gotten the chance to see Sob die. It was a good compromise, Fett decided. Everyone ex-cept Teroenza would be pleased-and, officially, Boba Fett wasnt working for the High Priest, he was working flit Lord Aruk. It was Aruks bounty, and the Besadii Lord had made it clear that all he wanted was Solo dead. Simple and profitable. Fett was satisfied.

Very well, Jabba boomed, obviously pleased. He. ,nadc a note on a pahn-sized datapad. A total of thirty thousand credits has just been added to your account.

Fett inclined his head in that not-quite bow. Ill show myself out, lie said. No, no, Jabba said hastily. Ibb will have to open the blast door for you. He pressed a button on his datapad, and the Twilek appeared seconds later, head-tails flying. Lobb bowed repeatedly. Farewell Fett, Jabba said. I shall keep you in mind for any further commissions Desilijic has. Boba Fett did not reply, only turned and followed the majordomo out, stopping on the way to pick up Iris blast rifle.

The bluing sands of Tatooine seemed doubly bright af-ter the darkness of Jabbas throne room, but Boba Fetts Mandalorian helmet automatically filtered out the harmful rays, allowing him to see clearly. Boarding Slave L lie took off, checking his departure vector, swooping low over the scorching desert. Fett glanced down at those featureless expanses, those dunes that rippled, almost like the waves of an ocean. Hed rarely been to Tatooine, and he couldnt imagine ever returning. What a desolate place He knew that there was supposed to be life in the deserts, but here, there was nothing. Just unmarked sand. But wait . . . what was that?

Fett leaned closer to his viewscreen as Slave I swooped over a huge pit that yawned open at the bottom of a de-pression in the sand. Fett thought he saw something mov-ing within the pit . . . spiky fronds or perhaps tentacles.

Wonder what that thing is? he thought, sending Slave I soaring up into the atmosphere. Guess there is something living in that desert, after all.

Moments later the stark brownish world was far behind the bounty hunter, so distant it was not even a mem-ory . . .

One week after leasing the Bria from Lando, Han Solo was cursing the little freighter, himself, Lando, and the universe in general.

Chewie, old pal, Han said, during a moment of un-compromising honesty, I am an idiot for picking this ship. Shes nothing but a pain in the ass.

Hrrrrrrrnnnnnn, rumbled Chewie, in complete agree-ment.

The Bria needed considerable work, they discovered from almost the very beginning. Shed flown fine during their test spin, but as soon as the lease was finalized, the problems erupted like geysers on the methane moons of Thermon. The first time they took their new acquisition out on a smuggling run, for the first ten minutes the ship worked fine . . . then the aft stabilizer shorted out, and they had to have her towed back to Nar Shaddaa via tractor beam. They fixed the stabilizer, aided by Landos little ten-tacled droidl Vuffi Raa (whom, it seemed, was the Millen-nium Falcons main pilot these days), and then tried again. This time the bow stabilizer blew.

Han and Chewie fixed the Bria again, cursing and sweat-ing through the repai, then tried again. And again. Some-times their little SoroSuub Starmite worked fine; other times they were lucky-if they could limp back to Landos shipyard for repairs.

The Brias navkmputer developed amnesia and her hyperdrive went on vacation. On her good days, Hah was such an expert pilot that he could coax a fair turn of speed out of her, but n earIv every time they took her out on a test run, some new problem surfaced in the strip. Hau complained to Lando, who only pointed out that the lease ttan had signed said as is, and that hed made no gnarantees about the ships spaceworthiness. Also, Lando pointed out-correctly-he was leasing the little Starmite to Hah at a very reasonable price.

Han couldnt argue with that, but it didnt help when the Bria just quit cold, as she did at least half the time. Han mentioned his ship woes to Mako, who introduced his friend to yet another of his acquaintances. Master starship mechanic, pilot, and repair tech Shug Ninx, meet Hah Solo and his partner Chewtacca. They got a ship needs some work.

Sting Ninx was humanoid, but though he looked mostly human, Han could tell immediately that he had some alien hlood. He was tall, with spiky brownish-blond hair and pale blue eyes. The sicin on the lower half of his face was mot-tled with pale spots, and his hands only had two fingers plus an extra joint in his opposable thumb. It gave him great dexterity when fiddling with machinery. Han could tell from the mans wary expression that Shug Ninx bad frequently met with suspicion because of his mixed blood. Most of that distaste had probably come from Imperial officials. They regarded anyone who was a half-breed as a lower-class citizen.

Hah held olJt his hand, smiling. Pleased to meet you, Shug, he said. Think you can help me get this bucket of bolts up and running?

We can sure give it a try, Shug said, visibly relaxing. Bring her over to my spacebarn today, and well check her out.

To reach Shugs facility, Hah had to fly the Bria down a narrow abyss between the tall, vertical towers of two huge, jumbled building complexes. When Hah and Chewie reached the spacebarn, Shugs huge spacedock and ga-rage, located deep down in the warren that was Nar Shad-daa, he was impressed with the facility. Wow, he said, looking around at all the ships in various states of assembly, this place beats any Imp spacedock I ever saw. Youve got just about anything you could want here. Equipment lined the walls, and was kicked into corners. At first glance the place seemed chaotic and cluttered, but as Hah was soon to discover, Shug Ninx could immediately locate any piece of equipment in the place.

Yeah, Shug said proudly, obviously pleased by Hans frank admiration. I saved for a long time to buy this place.

After Shug had a chance to check out the Bria, the half-breed shook his head mournfully. Hah, half your problem with this ship is that shes been modified using non-SoroSuub pas and components! Everyone knows that SoroSuubs dont take kindly to that!

Can you help us get her running? Hah asked.

Shug nodded. Wont be easy, but well try.

Over the next few weeks, Hah and Chewie helped Shug Ninx fix up their new ship. The two smugglers worked each day until they were exhausted, tinkering and learning the intricacies of starship repair from the master mechanic.

Han was so tired by all of the work, he almost quit going out, but one evening, on impulse, he stopped off for a drink in a local tavern he frequented in the Corellian sector. The Blue Light served only liquor, and was mostly a dive, but Hah kind of liked the dark little place with its holo-posters of Corellian cities and natural wonders on the wall. It was too dark to see them well, of course-especially after a drink or two. But it suited him better than the glitzier joints.

While he was sitting at the bar, sipping an Alderaanian ale, a fracas erupted in the back of the place. Hah jumped to his feet at the sound of a womans curse, then a mans drunken growl. Hey, baby, thats no way for a lady to talk!

Tm no lady, a woman said in a deep, angry voice. Peering into the dimness, Han could make out two strug-gling figures, hear the sounds of a scuffle, then a slap. Cmere, you tramp! the man said. The woman swore, then Han heard the meaty sound of a punch. The man yowled, then lunged at her. As he raced toward the back, Hah saw the mans feet leave the floor. The woman tossed him, using a single-shoulder throw that was accompanied by a popping sound. The man shrieked, a short, bitten-off scream, then thumped to the floor and lay there, sniveling and whimpering. When he reached the back of the dimly lit bar, Hah found a short, spindly smuggler and thug-for-hire he knew only as Jump moaning and writhing at the feet of a tall woman. As Jumps buddy (who had wisely not joined the fracas) helped the thug sit up, Han could see that his arm hung at an odd angle, plainly dislocated. The woman stood over them, hand on the grip of her undrawn blaster, eyes narrowed, not even breathing hard.

As Han approached, she turned on him. Mind your own business, man!

Han took a step back before her flashing amber eyes. She was as tall as he was, with skin the color of Landos, and a wild frizz of black curls standing out from her head like a brelets mane. She looked tougher than neutnmium, and mad clear through.

The Corellian hastily put lip both hands ill a gesture of peace. Hey, Im not one to interfere. lJooks to me like the situations been handled.

I can take eare of myself, she snapped, striding past him on her way toward the front entrance. Her boot heels clicked on the scarred floor. She wore a long, tan-colored skirt, a brown silk blouse, and a half carapace of black ar-mor, festooned with metallic studs. Her blaster rode her hip, and Han could tell by its worn grip that she knew exactly what to do with it.

Intrigued, he jogged up to tile front of the Blue Light, then, carefid not to stand between her anti the front door, Han gestured to a couple of empty bar stools. So . . . do you have to rush ofF? Cant I buy you a drink? he asked.

She studied him for a long moment, her anger fading. In the back, ]umps whimpers faded as the thug was led out the back way by his friends. Maybe, she said. Sticking out a gauntleted hand, she said, Salla Zend.

Han Solo. They shook, then Hah threw a leg over the nearest bar stool. What are you drinking? Salla sat down, tot). Mad Mrelf, straight up.

Right, said Han, carefully not showing any reaction to the strong liquor. He wouldnt have drunk Mad Mrelf on a bet-tales abounded of spacers w4o had gone on a Mad Mrelf spree, and wound up in Imp labor camps-or worse.

They talked, and Hah discovered that Salla was also a smuggler, newly come to Nar Shadtiaa. Ive got a ship, she said. The Rimrunner. But it needs some work. Ive got some inodificatiens Id like to make. Hey, Hah said, do I know a place for you. My ships getting some work done, too. The guys a real wizard. Name of Shug Ninx.

Im a pretty good mechanic myself, Salla said. Id like to meet your friend. Im going back to work on the Bria tomorrow morn-ing, Han said. If you like, why not meet me tomorrow, and we can go over to Shugs spacebarn together?

She gave him a measuring glance, then smiled, a slow, amused smile. Ive got a better idea, she said. You come home with me tonight. Can you cook?

Hans eyes widened. Well/Talk about being direct/

He smiled back at her, his slow, lopsided grin. He could tell that even Salla wasnt immune to its effects-or maybe it was the drink. Sure, he said. One of my best friends was a cook. Salla laughed. Hey, Solo, give a girl a break and turn off the charm. Want to break my heart? No, Han said, reaching out to touch the back of her hand with one finger, I want to fix you dinner. Sounds like a great plan to me. You like traladon steaks? Sure, she said lightly. Rare. Ill keep that in mind, Han promised.

When they finished their drinks, they went out into the squalid Nar Shaddaa street. Salla hooked her arm through Hans. Im glad I found you. I burn water, so I dont even try cooking anymore. I love the prospect of a home-cooked dinner.

Han smiled at her again, putting every bit of charm he possessed into it. Dinner it is. Then maybe . . . break-fast?

She laughed and shook her head. You are a rogue, arent you!

I try, Han said modestly.

Well, dont push your luck, honey, she warned, smiling to let him know she wasnt offended. I can take care of myself.

Remembering how Salla had handled Jump, Han had to agree. He nodded, and resolved to back off . . . for the moment.

Over the next few weeks, Han and Salla continued to see each other, and their relationship developed and grew closer. By the time thevd been dating for a month, ttan was fixing her breakfast, and everyone recognized them as a couple.

They had a lot in common, and Han enjoyed tile time they spent together. She was an exciting, vibrant woman, smart, sensual, and direct. As Han got to know her better, he discovered she did have a tender side, though it didnt surface often.

Hah introduced Salla to Shug, and the two of them hit it off immediately, too, though not romantically. It turned out that SMla was an expert technician, more at home with a lasertorch than most smugglers. She told them shed been a tech on a corporate transport before shed managed to ac-quire Rimrum;er. Salla occasionally ran spice, but her cargo of choice was weapons. She was an expert gunrunner, fear-less and efficient.

Soon Salla was a regular at Shugs spacebarn, where all the smugglers hung out, fixing their ships, swapping stories, and vying with each other to set new performance records. Han fimnd that, sooner or later, most of the human smug-glers, and many of the non-humans, wound up at Shugs spacebarn. Many of his pals from Smugglers Run ap-peared, even, on one notable occasion, XVynni. Zeen and Kid, a smuggler and thief named Rik Duel, Sinewy Ana Blue, Roa and Mako . . . all of them had good times at Shugs spacebarn. Shug had only three rults no intoxicants of any kind, pay promptly for use of tools or his or his techs services, and clean up after yoursell . Hah eventually wound up introducing Salla to Lando, and the two of them hit it off, also. Hah could tell they were attracted to each other, but Salla made it clear that Hah was her choice . . . for the moment. One day, when Hah was up on the top hull of the B,ria, working on the main defieetor, Chewbaeca roared at him, telling him to climb down, someone wanted to see him. Han scuttled down the ladder, to find a youth standing there, a handsome kid with brown hair and brown eyes. He reminded Han a little of himself, when hed been in his late teeus.

The young man held out a hand. Han Solo? Its an honor to meet you. Im Jarik. Jarik Solo. Hans eyes widened as he shook hands. Solo? he asked blankly.

Yeah, the kid answered. Solo. I think we must be related. Im Corellian, too. Since Hah knew of only two relatives he could e]aim (and he didnt choose to claim them-his aunt Tiion was a reclusive paranoid and her son, Hans cousin Thrackan Sal-Solo, was a sadistic creep . . . asstuning either of them was still alive), he wasnt sure how to reply to this. Really? he said finally. Thats interesting. What branch are you from?

Uh, well, I think that nay uncle Renn was your fathers second cousin, the youth said glibly. Renn was a eoxnmon name on CoreIlia. Han smiled.

Could be, he said. Cmon over here and lets talk.

Ite led the youth into Shugs cluttered office and poured them both a cup of stim-tea. Chewie followed thein in, and Han introduced the t, Vookiee properly. Chewie hrrrrrmn-ned at Jarik, and ttan couM tell he liked the young man. So, whyd you look me up? ttan asked.

Well, ld like to learn piloting, the boy replied. And I hear youre the best. Ill work, if youll teach me, sir. I promise Ill work hard.

Well-ttan glaneed over at die Wookiee-we conld use a hand with getting the Bria fixed up, I guess. You any good with a hydrospanner?

Yessir Jarik said. I sure am.

Well see, Hah said.

At first he invited the youngster to hang around because he wanted to keep an eye on him. Han didnt believe that the boy was from CoreIlia. He just didnt look right, some-how. He asked Roa, as the senior smuggler, whether he knew anything about a young man named Jarik.

It took a month, but Roa was able to discover that young Jarik was a street kid, born and raised in the depths of Nar Shaddaa. Hed grubbed for every mouthful, every credit, turning his hand to whatever work he could find. His par-entage was unknown, probably even to him. Hed always been a denizen of Nar Shaddaa, hanging out in the Corel-lian sector. It was possible that at least one of his parents was Corellian.

When Hah knew for sure that the youth had lied to him, he considered sending the kid packing, but by that time, hed gotten used to having him around. The youth hung on his every word, tagging along whenever Han would let him. The worshipful attention was flattering. And, after all, Han rationalized, it wasnt as though he himself had never told a lie to get his foot in the door . . . Jarik proved to be a fast learner. Han taught him to man the Brias portside gun turret, and he proved to have excel-lent reflexes and aim. Since pirate activity in Hutt space had been up lately, Hah wound up taking the kid on most of their runs. After discussing the matter with Chewbacca, Hah decided not to tell the youngster that they knew his name wasnt Solo. It was Chewie who pointed out that it obviously meant a lot to Jarik to finally have a surname. Wookiees were very family-oriented, and Chewie felt sorry for file boy.

Soon after Han and Salla started their relationship, the Bria was spaceworthy. Shugs modifications had increased her speed until she was a very respectable little vessel. But she was still, as Jarik put it, one unpredictable lady.

One rnn the Bria would perform perfectly, but the next . . . there seemed no end to the grief she gave Hah, Chewie, and Jarik out in the spacelanes. Han learned a whole new vocabulary of Wookiee swear words while he and Chewie sweated to fix their recalcitrant craft.

Once the sublight motivator burned out as they were skimming past the black-hole clusters o[ tlle Maw. That was interesting. For a while, Han didnt believe they were ever going to make it back to Nar Shaddaa. If it hadnt been fi)r Chewies quick repair work and Itans piloting expertise, the freighter would have been sucked into a black hole.

Han found them a new apartment, a bigger one, in a better part of the Corellian section. He was frequently not at home, stang over at Sallas place, so he allowed Jarik to spend the night so Chewbacca would have company.

Life, Hah reflected (when lie had time to reflect, which wasnt often), was good. It had been at least two months since any bounty hunters had surfaced, and there hadnt been anv sightings of Boba Fett. He and Chewie were earning a decent living, and they had a ship of their own. He had friends, and somebody special in his life, somebody who could talk the language of smugglers. ttan was as con-tent as hed ever been . . .

Deep in a remote area of space, between systems, two Hurt ships rendezvoused at a set of highly secret coordi-nates. Both ships belonged to members of the Desilijic kajidic, though neither ship was piloted by Hah Solo. One ship was Jabbas yacht, Star Jewel, and the other was Jiliacs yacht, Dragon Pead. Under the urnrig of their pilots, who goosed tile ships toward each other with little taps on their maneuvering thrusters, the two ships edged closer and closer, until they were in docking range. An umbilical tube extended from the airlock of Star Jewel, until it touched and anchored itself against the airlock of Dragon Pearl. The Hutt yachts hung in space, attached to each other by the tube. Jabba and Jiliae were aboard Star Jewel. Comfortably ensconced in the yachts luxurious salon, Jfiiae cradled her young offspring in her arms. As the ships instruments indi-cated that the two ships were successfully connected, Jiliae put her tiny, unformed grub of a baby Huttlet down near her pouch-slit, and allowed tile little creature to crawl in-side. Infant Hutts survived mostly inside their mothers pouch for the first year or so of their young lives.

As the two Hutts waited expectantly, they heard several sets of footsteps coming down the corridor. The door opened, and Teroenza, High Priest of Ylesia, entered.

The huge horned being was almost dwarfed by the enor-mous sluglike Hutts, but Teroenza didnt seem particularly overawed, Jiliae noted. She gestured graciously to a tlanda Til resting sling shed had specially installed. Welcome, Teroenza. Please make yourself at home. I trust you were able to camouflage your absence from your world?

My time is limited, Teroenza said. I set off in a land-skimmer this morning, with a Gamorrean pilot, ostensibly to make a personal inspection of the Colony Eight con-struction. Halfway there, in the deepest jungle, I knocked the guard out, then set the skimmer to crash into a jungle giant. Then I tossed a thermal detonator into the wreckage, and when it was burning well, I tossed the guard in. Your ship was waiting precisely where you guaranteed it would be. Tomorrow it can set me back in that area, and I shall suitably batter and dirty myself, then come staggering out of the jungle in time to meet one of the search parties. Aruk will suspect nothing.

Well done, Jiliac said. But, as you note, our time is limited. Let us get right down to business. Aruk has be-come a . . . nuisance. A nuisance we would like to dis-pense with. Teroenza snorted. No matter how high production is, he is dissatisfied. I have not seen my mate in over a year. He forbids me to take even a short visit home. And he has reduced the bounty on Han Solo, and altered it to a kill on sight, disintegrations okay bounty! He forbade me to raise it, even if I paid with my own credits. Said I was obsessed with Solo! When he did that, I could no longer support him. Contemplating the slow death of that Corellian space tramp has been my only pleasure for months. When I re-member how he . . . the High Priest went on with his litany of grievances against Han Solo. Jabba and Jiliac looked at each other during Teroenzas tirade. Jiliac knew that Jabba had made some arrangement with Boba Fett so Solo could continue to work for them without fear of bounty hunters. However, that was not in-formation Teroenza ever needed to know.

Seconds later Teroenza ran down. He bowed. My apol-ogies, Excellencies. As you said . . . to business. First, we need to determine a price for your . . . as-sistance, TeroenTt, Jabba pointed out. The tlanda Til named a sum. Jabba and Jiliac glanced at each other. Neither spoke. After a couple of minutes, Teroenza named a second, significantly lower sum. This one, while high, was not un-reasonable. Jiliac took a small crustacean from a tray near her resting dais, and contemplated it for several seconds. Done, she said, then popped the treat into her mouth. I want no one to suspect murder, she said matterof-factiy. It must be subtle . . .

Subtle... Teroenza murmured, absently stroking his horn, which already looked as though it had been freshly oiled. Not an armed attack, then.

Far from it, Jiliac said. Besadii security is second only to our own. Our troops would have to blast their way in, and the whole of Nal Hutta would know who started it. No armed attacks. An accident? Jabba wondered aloud. Perhaps with his river barge? I understand Aruk enjoys his afternoon excursions. He often entertains on the river.

Possible, Jiliac said. But such an accident is difficult to control. It might destroy Durga, to(), and I do not want Durga killed.

Why, Aunt? Durga is clever. He could be a possible threat to us, Jabba pointed out. Before Jiliac could respond, Teroenza did. Settling deeper into his resting sling, the High Priest picked a pick-led ruff-roach off a plate and sampled it. Because, the tlanda Til said thoughtfidly, Durga will have trouble con-trolling Besadii. There are many in the kajidic who feel he is not fit to rule because of his birthmark. They say he is ill-marked, and tiNus ill-fated. Do away with Durga, and the kajidic may well unite much more strongly behind the new leader.

Jiliac inclined her head to Teroenza. You reason like a Hutt, Priest, she said. Teroenza was gratified. Thank you, Your Excellency.

No assault, no accident, Jabba nmttered. What, then?

I have a possible plan, Jiliac said. A substance that Aruk can ingest. It has the advantage of being ahnost unde teetable in the tissues. And Mille it is working, it slows and dulls the tiNinking processes, so that the victim makes poor decisions. For Aruk to make poor decisions is to our bene-fit. Agreed, Aunt, Jabba said. But... poison? We Hutts are extremely resistant to poisons. For one of us, even an old one like Aruk, to ingest enough poison to kill us would surely be noticed and remarked upon. Jiliac shook her massive head, a mannerism shed picked up from humans. Not the way I am thinking of it, Nephew. This substance, when introduced into the body, gradually poisons the victim. It concentrates in the brain tissues of higher life-forms. Over a long period of ingestion, the victim becomes actually addicted to the poison, to the point where sudden cessation of the substance will cause withdrawal symptoms so severe, they will result in either death or such massive brain damage that Aruk will be of no further harm to any of us.

And you can get supplies of this substance? Teroenza asked excitedly. It is extremely expensive and rare, Jiliac said. But . . yes. I can procure sufficient quantities. But how do we get him to take it? Jabba asked. Your Excellencies, I can manage that! Teroenza was bouncing up and down in his sling, like a youngster in a game. The nala-tree frogs! Surely they would work! Explain, Priest, Jiliac commanded.

Teroenza went on to explain about the Besadii Irds predilection for the nala-tree frogs. Ever since he went home, two weeks ago, he has demanded an aquarium of live nala-tree frogs with every shipment of processed spice we send home to Nal Hutta! The tlanda Til rubbed his tiny, almost delicate hands together excitedly. And how would we use them?

The nala-tree frogs are far from being higher life-forms. They have almost no brain to speak of. I doubt expo-sure to your poison would kill them.

From what I know of this substance, that would be so, Jiliac said. Continue, please. I could raise the nala-tree frogs in water to which I have added your poison, Teroenza said. From the time they are small wigglers, they would be swimming through water containing concentrations of your substance. The nala-tree frogs tissues would be riddied with the poison-and Aruk will consume them greedily! As the months go t I illcrease the eoncentration of the poison in the water, and Amk gradually consumes more and more of the poison. Over time, he becomes addicted to it. Then, when hes thoroughly dependent on the substance-He made a quick yanking-away gesture. No more poison!

Clean frogs!

And he will die in agony, Jiliac said. Or suffer perma-nent brain damage. Either of which will serve our needs.

Jabba leaned forward. I say we do it. Jiliacs scheme fits all our requirements. I will transmit the first of your payments, Jiliac said.

You must tell me where you want the credits sent.

Teroenzas bulging eyes took on a crafty gleam. Rather than credits, 1 would mostly like items for my collection. That way I can hide the payments. When I need credits, I can sell off a piece, and no one will be the wiser.

Ve well, Jiliac said. You must provide us a list of acceptable items. If we cannot find them, we shall deposit credits instead. But we will try for the pieces for the collec-tion. Excellent, said Teroenza. We have a deal. A toast, cried Jabba. To our alliance, and to Amks end. A toast! echoed Teroenza, raising an ornate cup. My first use of my new wealth will be to place such a high bounty on Hah Solos head that eve boun hunter in the galaxy will be looking for him!

To the death of Aruk! Jiliac said, raising her cup.

The death of Arnk! Jabba exclaimed.

Teroenza hesitated for barely an instant, then said, with great resolution, The death of Aruk . . . and of Solo.

Together, they drank

After Teroenza had left, to be spirited back to Ylesia aboard the Dragon Pearl, Jabba and Jiliac began planning their strategy. When Aruk was gone, they would gradually take over the Ylesian operation. One by one, they would eliminate key Besadii, until the decimated clan would fall into penury and obscurity. The thought made them extremely cheerful.

Their good mood was broken, however, by Lobb Ger-ido, who appeared, wringing his hands. Your Excellencies . . one of your operatives on Regolith Prime has just for-warded a vid-cast to us. Most disturbing news from Impe-rial Center! The pilot has recorded it. If Your Excellencies will turn on your holo-projector . . .

Concerned, Jiliac did so. The three-dimensional scene built before them, and the Hutts recognized their local Moff, Sam Shild. This was obviously a formal press confer-ence setting. Behind Shild, they could see the familiar sky-line of Imperial Center, the planet that used to be called Coruscant. Citizens of the Inner and Outer Rim Territories, he said, his pale features beneath waxy dark hair set in grim lines, our exalted and wise Emperor has been forced to put down yet another insurrection in Imperial space. Vi-cious rebels, using weapons that have been traced to our sector, attacked an Imperial emplacement on Rampa II, wounding and slaying a number of Imperial troops. The Emperors reprisal has been immediate, and the rebels have been routed and captured. Many civilian lives were lost when the rebel butchers turned their weapons on innocent citizens. This outrage cannot be allowed to con-tinue!

Our Emperor has called upon all of his loyal sectors to aid him in cutting off the trafficking in illegal weaponry. I am proud to say that I am responding to the Emperors call in the most immediate and visceral terms. We all know that the source of much of the illegal gunrunning and drug traf-ficking emanates from Hutt space. To this end, I am calling on all citizens of our sector to support me as I shut down the Hutt scourge! It is my intention to wipe out the smug-gling trade, and bring the Hutt crime lords to their knees! Shild paused, as if suddenly recalling that Hutts did not have knees. Um. . . figuratively speaking, of course.

He cleared his throat. To reach this goal, I am autho-rized to utilize deadly force. The Hurts will learn that they cannot flout Imperial law with impunity. He raised a fist in a sweeping military gesture. Law and order will prevail once more in our Territories!

The holo faded out on Shilds ringing last words. Both Hutts looked at each other for a long moment. This is not good, Aunt, Jabba said, finally.

Not good at all, Nephew, Jiliac agreed. She cursed softly. How can Shild have found the courage to go against US?

Obviously, he is now more afraid of Palpatine than he is of us, Jabba said. We shall have to teach him his error, Jiliac said slowly. We cannot allow Nal Hutta to be governed by the Em-peror and his wretched minions.

Indeed not, Jabba agreed.

Jiliac considered for a moment. However, as a compro-mise . . .

Yes, Aunt?

Perhaps we can reason with Shild. Buy him off. Let him have Nar Shaddaa and the smugglers. We can always find more smugglers . . .

Jabba licked his tongue over the edges of his lipless mouth, as though hed tasted something particularly sweet. Aunt, I like the way you think.

We must send Shild a message, Jiliac decided. And gifts . . . expensive ones, so he will pay attention. You know how greedy he is. Surely he will . . . see reason.

Surely, Jabba agreed. But who will carry the mes-sage?

Jfliae thought for a moment, then the corners of her huge, wide mouth turned up. I know just the sen-tient

. . .

Han Solo stood before Jiliacs dais, eyes wide. His mouth dropped open. You want me to what? Careful, Captain Solo, Jabba cautioned. You must address the Lady Jiliac with respect. Han ignored the Hutt Lord. But . . . but . . . he sputtered, thats crazy! Thats like asking me to point a gun at my own head and pull the trigger! We all heard Shild, how he was cracking down on smugglers. In case its es-caped your notice, Your Ladyship, Im a smuggler-he jerked his thumb at his own chest and if I walk into Sam Shilds place to give him your gifts and your message, thatll be the last free walk I ever take! No! I aint doing it! Inwardly he was a little surprised at his own temerity in speaking to the powerful Hutt leaders in such a manner, but Jiliacs calm request had roused his temper. Just who did the Hutts think they were, anyhow?

Captain Solo. Jiliac did not take umbrage at Hans words or tone. Calm yourself. We will provide you with new clothing, the best of faked IDs, and one of our own courier vessels. No one will know you are Han Solo, smug-gler. All they will know is that you are a diplomatic envoy from Nal Hutta, duly authorized and designated to deliver our message and our gifts.

Han took a deep breath. Under those circumstances, maybe . . .

What is it worth to you, to get your message deliv-ered? he asked, finally. Ten thousand credits, Jiliac said, without batting an eye.

Hah gasped. That much! For just flying to Coruscant and back!

He stared at the Hutt leaders for a moment, then turned to Chewbacca What do you think, pal? Chewie was plainly as torn as he was. The big Wookiee grumbled and rumbled, then finally commented that with that kind of money, they could start saving for a ship they could buy. But it was Han whod be risking his skin, he added, so the final decision should be Hans.

The Corellian thought for another moment, then turned

back to Jfiiac and Jabba. All right, he said. Ill do it for

ten thousand. All of it in advance.

Jabba began to protest, but Jiliac shushed him with a gesture. Very well, Captain. Ten thousand in advance. When can you leave?

If you can get me the IDs and vessel today, Hah said grimly, well leave tomorrow morning. It shall be done, Jiliac said.

The Hutt leader was as good as her word. By the next morning, Hah had received excellent faked IDs, identifying him as one Jobekk Jonn, official Hutt diplomatic envoy. The ship was a speedy little Corellian courier vessel named Quicksilver. Hah was given a suit of clothing better than anything hed ever even touched before-a tomuon-wool jacket and trousers, cut in the very latest style. At Chewies suggestion, Hah cultivated a short beard during the time it took them to fly to Cornscant. When they docked at one of Coruscants many spacedocks, he slicked his hair straight back from his brow, and was amazed at how different he looked. The spiffy gray suit made him look like a bureaucrat, completely erasing all traces of the smug-gler.

I feel naked without my blaster, Han grumbled. But they restrict weapons here on Cornscant . . . I mean, Im-perial Center. Besides... I guess diplomatic envoys dont wear guns. Chewie commented sadly that Hah no longer looked scruffy, in approved Wookiee fashion. Instead he appeared as sleek and polished as lapistone.

Trust me, pal, I cant wait till I can turn back into my-self, Han said. Then, picking up his package of gifts, and the holocube message from Jfiiac and the Grand Councfi of Nal Hutta, Han left Quicksilver and took a shuttle down to Imperial Center. Being back in the Imperial capital city brought back a lot of memories, most of them unpleasant ones. Bria had left him on Coruscant. Here hed been hunted across the roof-tops by Garris Shrike. His court-martial had taken place in the headquarters of the Imperial Navy . . . Hah already had the address for the Moff. Shild main-tained several residences on different worlds, but at the moment, he was in Imperial Center, attending conferences on law and order in the Empire. Hah reached the Moffs residence, a luxurious pent-house in one of the citys most elegant buildings. After go-ing through multiple security checks, he handed his credentials to the majordomo, an elderly human male, and then sat down in the antechamber. Only a strong effort of will kept him from fidgeting. After waiting for nearly forty-five minutes, the major-domo appeared. My master can give you only a few min-utes, he said. He is departing this evening for Velga Prime.

Nice, Han thought. Velga Prime was the most opulent gambling planetoid in the known galaxy. He followed the majordomo down a succession of carpeted hallways. Automatically, Han memorized the way, just in case things went sour and he had to make a quick escape. Finally, the majordomo ushered him into an office big-ger than Hafts apartment back on Nar Shaddaa. Master Jobekk Jonn, of Nal Hutta, Your Excellency, the old man intoned. Moff Sam Shild was a tall, pale, ascetic-seeming man with oiled black hair and a thin, pointy mustache. Slender to the point of emaciation, he had pale, cold-looking hands with elongated fingers. He wore no jewelry except a black krayt dragon pearl in one earlobe. His suit was the same opalescent black as the jewel.

He gestured brusquely to a seat. Im afraid I must be brief, Jonn. I realize that the Hutts have been . . . gener-ous to my administration in the past, but the Emperor has made his wishes clear. My hands are tied. Lets not be hasty, Your Excellency, Han said, watch-ing his diction and grammar. Unconsciously, he slipped back into his speech patterns from when hed been an Im-perid officer. I believe you will find the Hutt offerings and message Ive brought to be of interest. May I? Shild nodded shortly. Han carefully placed the package on the table. Please open it, he said. Very well, the Moff said. Carefully he opened the package, and from the way his eyes lit up, Han could tell that the Hutt Lords knew his tastes well.

A smdl silver pipe, encrnsted with semiprecious gems. A miniaturized holo-projector so small it would fit into a hu-man palm. A necklace made of gold and platinum wire, encrnsted with golden cornsca gems. For your lady, sir, Hah said smoothly.

Yes, she will like this . . . muttered the Moff. A line appeared between his brows as he quickly scanned the holocubes message, which he trigged to display by means of his retind pattern. Look here, Jonn, he said when hed finished reading it, I wish that I could offer Nd Hutta more assurances, but as I told you before, I have no choice. The Emperor has cdled upon dl Imperid wodds to tighten down on smug-gling, gunrunning, and other illegd activities. My sector contains Hutt space, and unfortunately the Hutt reputation for dishonesty is so well known that I cannot possibly cover for them. I will, however, promise Nd Hutta no armed reprisals if they cooperate. Cooperate in what way?

Do their best to become loyd, law-abiding citizens of the Empire.

Thatll be the day, Hah thought. What about Nar Shad-daa? he asked, unable to help himself. Fear for himself and his friends made his mouth dry.

I shall have to make an example of Nar Shaddaa, Shild said. By the time I am finished with the Smugglers Moon, it will no longer support the smuggling industry. Its inhabit-ants will be lucky if it can still support sentient life.

Han tried to conced his shock. What are we going to do?

Shild shook his head. And now, Im afraid, I must de-part. I regret that you had to travel so far for only a short interview, but I did warn your Hutt masters that I would be unable to . . . bend . . . over this issue. Shild stood up, and automatically Han did also. Sam? came a voice from behind the door leading into the next room. Caught in the act of turning, Hah froze.

That voice/

My dear, I am in here, cdled Shild. I was just about to show the diplomatic envoy from Nd Hutta out. The door opened, and a woman stood there, smiling. Sam, darling, she said, we must hurry. The shuttle is waiting on the rooftop. Will you be much longer?

Han turned his head, and their eyes met for the first time in six years. Bria Tharen. This time, there was no mistake. Bria stood there, dressed in a flowing silken gown that made her seem just as much of an ornament as anything else in Shilds palatial home. The low-cut gown was turquoise, the color of her eyes. She was stunningly beautiful. As she stared back at Han, she blinked, and went a little pde. Her smile did not waver, though. Shes good, Itan thought. He knew hed betrayed his shock, but fortunately Shild wasnt looking at him. Han hastily pulled himself back together, composing his features into a polite, neutrd mask. Shild gestured at Bria. Master Jobekk Jonn of Nal Hutta, my... niece ... Bria. Only Hans years of playing sabacc saved him. As Bria composedly held out her hand with a throaty, Its a plea-sure to meet you, Master Jonn, Han was able to take it and bow over it with a suave smile. The pleasure is all mine, he said. Shild, you are a very lucky man, to have such a lovely . . . niece. He saw a faint wave of color brighten her cheeks at his gibe. You look familiar, sir, she said. Havent I seen you before? Her voice was cool and disinterested.

Han knew she was baiting him. Perhaps on WANTED posters, Han murmured, so quietly Shild couldnt hear.

Then bowing cx)ldly over her hand once more, he let go of her-though all he wanted to do was grab her and bring her with him!--and bowed formally to Shild. Thank you for your time, Your Excellency. Then, turning away, Han strode resolutely from the

room,

Later that same night, much later, Bria Tharen lay in her small bunk aboard the MoWs yacht, muffling her sobs in her pillow. Every time she recalled the look in Hans eyes, she wanted to wail aloud. It was only too obvious that hed thought the worst-that she was Shilds concubine. Sobs shook her. That was what he was supposed to think, after all. That was what Sam Shild wanted everyone to think. In truth, the MoWs sexual preferences did not run to human females. Bria traveled with him as a lovely show object, to be displayed to Imperial officials, just as Shild would display any trophy. She kept his home running smoothly, listened to him when he wanted someone to talk to, oversaw his household staff and office, and generally kept MoW Sam Shilds life running smoothly. But she had never shared his bed, which was the only thing that made this current assignment bearable. And now . . . now Han had seen her, and thought the worst. Even all the information Bria had been able to fun-nel to the rebel movement back on CoreIlia couldnt ease the grief and shame she felt. Her pillow was wet. Bria turned it over, and then lay there, staring into the darkness, as the Moffs yacht streaked through hyperspace.

Hah . . . she whispered brokenly. Han. . .

On the way back to Nar Shaddaa, Chewbacca flew the Hutt courier ship Quicksilver competently, but his mind was not completely on his work. The Wookiee glanced over at his partner, the human to whom hed sworn a life debt, and his blue eyes crinkled with concern. Han was slumped in the copilots seat, scowling blackly at the star-lined void of hyperspace. Hed been like this for days now, ever since hed boarded Quicksilver following his mission to the Moffs residence on Coruscant. He rarely spoke, and when he did, all he did was complain and make sarcastic comments.

And he complained about everything-the food, the speed of the little c ourier ship, Chewies piloting, the te-dium of space travel, the greed of the Hutts. . . any sub-ject the Wookiee had tried to introduce, Han had had a great many negative things to say about it.

For the first time since hed met the Corellian, Chewbacca actually wondered whether there might be cir-cumstances under which renouncing a life debt was the honorable thing to do. More honorable, say, than murder-ing the person to whom one owed the life debt . . .

This thing moves like a thousand-year-old Hutt, Han grumbled. Youd think with the size of the engines, shed be able to make some speed . , . think you could get her to go a little faster if I got out and pushed? Chewbacca restrained himself and commented that it wouldnt be too long now before they were back on Nar Shaddaa.

Yeah, and it cant be too soon for me, Han said bit-terly. He got up and paced nervously around the cramped Cabin. When he turned abruptly, he whacked his head on a low stanchion and began cursing a blue streak.

When he finally began to repeat himself, Han growled, then threw himself back into tile copflots seat. After we return the Hutts little bucket of bolts to them, I guess well have to head for Smugglers Run. If the Br-he seemed to choke on the word, then amended, if that blasted ship of ours will make it through the asteroid field.

Chewbacca asked why theyd be heading for Smugglers Run. Wynni, he pointed out, would likely be at Smugglers Run, and she was the last person he wanted to see. The Wookiee wasnt sure he could take much more of the way she was so free with her paws.

Listen, pal-Hans voice dripped sarcasm-in case it aint occurred to you, its all over for Nar Shaddaa. Moff Sam Shild has probably already ordered his fleet to assem-ble out near Teth. Were shakin the dust of that miserable excuse for a moon off our feet for good.

What fleet? Chewbacca wanted to know.

Oh, each Imperial Moff has his own discretionary peacekeeping squadron, Han said, propping his boots on the console, not bothering to look before he plunked them down. Chewie was relieved to see that he missed the DECZL-ER^TE control. Sudden decelerations while in hyperspace were not a good idea. No doubt Shild has one, too. His fleets probably not the best, but itll be more than enough for the mission.

Chewbacca was confused. Why wouldnt the Molls fleet be the best available? Oh, its just the way things go in the Imperial Navy. Since Hutt space is out here in the Rim, far from civiliza-tion that is, Cornscant-Id bet Sam Shild got stuck with all the older ships and weaponry, while all the newest, best stuff went to Rampa 1 and Rampa 2.

Rampa 17 Chewie asked. Hed thougilt only Rampa 2 lad experienced an uprising. Yeah, well, when the citizens of Rampa 1 heard about what was going on, they rose up, too, Han said. For all the good its gonna do cm.

Chewie commented that he hated the Empire that had enslaved him, and wished he could help bring it down.

Hah snorted. Hey, pal, dont hold your breath. Palpa-tines got more weapons and starships than he knows what to do with. Any rebellion against the Empire is doomed.

The Wookiee pilot did not believe his partners pro-nouncement, and said so. It made sense to him that at some point the Imperial worlds, tired of Palpatines iron fist, would unite and rebel. Hah shook his head sourly. Never happen, Chewie. And if it did, theyd be doomed. Just like Nar Shaddaa is doomed.

Chewie commented that it wasnt the Wookiee way to run away from a fight. Didnt Hah want to fight back against the Imperial fleet? He was certain that the smug-glers were much better pilots-and certainly better shots-than the Imperials. Maybe they could defeat the Imperial attack. Han laughed out loud at the suggestion.

Annoyed, Chewies lips skinned back from his teeth, and he snarled at his human partner. Han sat up in a hurry, looking startled. Chewie rarely showed temper to the Corellian, and Wookiee anger was not something to be taken lightly. Hey, no need to get sore about it] I cant help it if Nar Shaddaa doesnt stand a chance! It aint my fault!

The Wookiee growled, low in his throat.

Okay, okay, Han soothed. Ill definitely warn em, so they can get away. Ill talk to Mako about it, soon as weve reported in to Jiliac, okay?

Chewbacca subsided, and went back to piloting. But the Wookiee was still thinking, still adding things up. He com-mented on Hans ill temper.

Whaddaya mean, Ive been hard to live with? Han was indignant. Nothins wrong!

Chewbaccas comment was short and to the point. Han flushed. Whaddaya mean, this has somethin to do with a woman? he demanded indignantly. What makes you think that?

Chewie reeled off a list of reasons, then put forth his best guess as to exactly which woman Han was upset about.

Han cursed, scowled, then, finally, slumped down and put his hands over his face. He rubbed his forehead and groaned aloud. Youre right, Chewie, he mumbled. It was her. Bria. With Sam ShiM. Ieouldnt believe it. How could she?

Chewbacca noted that appearances could sometimes be deceiving.

Han shook his head. Not this time, he said miserably.

She called him Sam darling.

The Wookiee wondered whether Bria might be married to the Moff.

Han sighed. Nope. It wasnt that . . . formal . . . a relationship. Chewie, I cant believe shed do that! Its so

... cheap!

Chewbacca tried to be comforting, reminding Han that sometimes sentients had to do things they didnt particu-larly like because they were necessary. Maybe there were extenuating circumstances in Brias case, too.

Han tried to smile. Thanks, pal. I wish I could say I thougilt you were right. But . . . He shook his head, and subsided into silence.

It was a very silent flight back to the landing platform on Nar Shaddaa. Han and Chewie reported to Jiliac and Jabba the mo-ment they returned to Nar Shaddaa. The Hutts were not pieaxed to hear that Sam Shild was no longer in their pay. We shall have to do some investigating about this fleet and the situation, Jiliac said. Come back in two hours, Cap-tain Solo. Hah shrugged and agreed. He had his ten thousand credits, hed checked his balance before hed left Nar Shad-daa. So he was willing to do the Hurts bidding for a little while longer. Besides, in two hours, hed be able to find Mako and pass along the warning to the older smuggler. Mako was even more upset than Jiliac and Jabba when he heard the situation. Keep this quiet, Han, he said softly, staring out across the awnings and walkways of Nar Shaddaa. They were standing on his little balcony outside his ramshackle fiat. If the citizens get wind of this, therell be mass panic. An Imp fleet aint nothing to mess with.

But with enough warning, maybe they could evacu-ate-Han began, only to break off at Makos quick head-shake.

Not a chance, kid. Too many of era dont have any-where else to go. Take that Jarik Solo kid whos been riding with you and Chewie. Hes a rat from the deep-down streets, born and raised-not that anyone likely raised him here on Nar Shaddaa. Theres millions like him, Han. And if the Imps are out to teach Nar Shaddaa a lesson, then a whole lotta people are gonna die.

Han was considerably sobered by his talk with Mako. He hadnt thought of it in those terms before. He realized how lucky he and Chewbacca were, to be able to climb aboard their ship and fly away from the danger. He resolved that if it came to that, hed take Jarik with him. Hed grown to like the youth. But what about all the other sentients who wouldnt be able to get out? Nar Shaddaa had shields, but they wouldnt be able to stand for long against an Imperial bombardment. Hah had a sudden, vivid vision of these crumbling towers in flames from Imperial turbolasers. People would be fleeing, filling the streets, screaming, cowering, clutching children against them. Rodians, Sullustans, Twileks, Wookiees, Gamorreans, Bothans, Chadra-Fans . . . and more. Not to mention humans. Lots of humans. The Corellian section was full of them . . .

Han reported back to Jiliacs audience chamber in a very troubled frame of mind. The Hutt leader fixed him with a somber gaze. What you have said is true. We checked our sources on Teth, and the Moff has indeed ordered his discretionary fleet to as-semble there. Since some elements of the fleet have been out on patrol, it will take a week or possibly two for all the ships to converge on Teth, and then a minimum of several days to prepare for an assault on Nal Hutta. We are taking measures to ensure our safety on Nal Hutta.

But what abtn, t Nar Shaddaa? Han wondered. It was a pretty good bet that the self-centered Hutts would give the Smugglers Moon barely a thought, in comparison to pro-tecting their safety, and that of their homew0rld.

We have discovered that Shilds fleet is under the com-mand of Admiral Winstel Greelanx. You used to be an Im-perial officer, Captain. Do you know him?

No, Han said. Never heard of him. But its a big Navy.

True, Jiliac said. Our sources have assured us that

Admiral Greelanx, while a competent officer, has, in the

past, not been above furthering his own fortunes when the

opportunity arises. He was in charge of several Imperial

fleets doing customs patrol in the past, and we have confirmed that under the right circumstances he can be bribed.

Hah nodded, not really surprised, much less shocked. The pay scale for an Imperial officer wasnt that good. Hed heard of more than one Imp officer on the take.

With that in mind, we want you to go and see him, Captain, Jiliac continued. We want you to negotiate with him on our behalf.

Me? The thought of just marching right into the mid-dle of an Imperial fleet was not appealing. And offering a bribe to an Imperial officer carried the death penalty should he be caught. But-You are our best choice, Capt ain Solo, Jiliac said.

ButNo buts, Hah my boy, Jabba said, in those overly friendly tones hed adopted recently. You can handle this assignment better than anyone else. You were an Imperial officer. We will get you a uniform, forged orders, and a military ID. You can get in to speak with Greelanx, take him a small gift from us. You speak his language, Han. You can talk to him in terms he will understand. Credits are what hell understand, Han said. Lots of them.

We have been delegated to act on behalf of all Nal Hutta, Jiliac said. Money is no object to ensuring the Admirals ... cooperation.

But . . . Han was thinking fast, you cant expect him to not attack. The Moff would notice he hadnt fulfilled his orders. Theyd court-martial him. And then theyd send an even bigger fleet to wipe us out!

And the next Admiral they appoint may not be amena-ble to our . . . persuasions, Jiliac said, nodding her mas-sive head in agreement. That is why we want Admiral Greelanx to stay in command. But there must be some way for us to ensure an Imperial defeat.

Han frowned. The entire thrust of his education at the ImPerial Academy had been on ensuring victory for the Empire. I dont know . . . he said uncertainly.

Couldnt we pay the Admiral to put his ships in the wrong positions, so theyre not able to fire properly, or something of the kind? Jiliac asked. We Hutts are not military-minded sentients, Captain. What kinds of things would bring about the result we want? An Imperial defeat, without it being obvious that we paid Greelanx off.

Well . . . Han thought hard, maybe hell sell us his battle plan. With that in hand, we could create a defense that would put all of our ships in just the right spot to-maybe-defeat the Imperial fleet. Maybe. Especially if Greelanx had been paid to cut and run as soon as he could justify a withdrawal. Under what circumstances should we not attempt to engage the Imperial fleet? Jiliac a.4ked. If Shilds fleet has a Victory Star Destroyer or-worse-one of the Imperial Star Destroyers, forget it, Your Excellency. But the Imps tend to assign older vessels to duty out here in the Rim. So maybe theres a chance.

Jabba was obviously impressed by Hans knowledge. Another reason why you are the right person to undertake this mission, Han my boy. You will be able to assess the strength of the Moffs fleet, as few others could do.

Han looked over at Chewbacca. Even without asking the Wookiee, he could see that Chewie wanted to go for it-to do anything they could to help their adopted home. Hah thought about Shugs spacebarn, and

,all the good times hed had there with his friends. Sure, hed had dreams of living a respectable life, of becoming a real citizen-but those dreams were in the past. He was a smuggler now, and probably a smuggler forever. He liked being a smuggler.

Thoughts of the towers of Nar Shaddaa in flames, of innocent sentients slaughtered, decided him. All right. Ill get in to see Greelanx and talk to him.

Emphasize that this is an offer no sentient in his right mind could refuse, Jiliac said. We will pay well. Ill make sure he understands, Han said.

When can you leave? Jabba wanted to know. Time is short.

Get me the uniform and the ID and Ill leave tonight, Han said. All I have to do is get a haircut . . . It felt very strange to be back in uniform again, Han decided as he walked casually along the permacrete of the Imperial base on Teth three days later. He tried not to fidget in his gray uniform with its blue and red lieutenants insignia. Wearing the short-brimmed cap again felt odd, too. And he missed his old boots. These new boots werent properly broken in, and were a shade too small. They pinched his toes. The sentry at the gate had scanned his ID, then given only a cursory glance at Hans orders before saluting and waving him through.

Hah was watching for a special group of young officers. There should be shuttles going up to the Admirals flagship, the Dreadnaught Imperial Destiny, throughout the after-noon, filled with officers and enlisted men reporting aboard after their last few hours of leave.

Theyd be spending the next week preparing the big ship for its mission against the Hutt worlds. From what Han had been able to tell from passing the fleet while making their landing approach, Greelanxs force consisted of three Dreadnaughts-the Imperial Destiny, the Pride of the Sen-ate, and the Peacekeeper-four bulk cruisers, plus nearly a score of customs and patrol ships, including some Guard, ian-class light cruisers and a couple of Carrack-class light cruisers. l_ts of TIE fighters in the holds of the bigger ships, of course.

Certainly enough power to utterly destroy Nar Shaddaa, but it wasnt as bad as it could be. Hah had seen no Star Destroyers, and it was a safe bet that if Greelanxs squadron included one, that would be his flagship.

As he walked along, Hah noticed a milling group of young Officers queuing up before an Imperial shuttle. Here I go, he thought, walking purposefully up to them, then falling in at the back of the line. Now that he was back in the uniform, his shoulders were automatically straighter, his steps more precise, his eyes forward.

The young officers filed aboard the ship, and took seats in the shuttle, strapping in. Hans seatmate gave him a pleasant nod. Han nodded back and smiled. The crew com-plement of a Dreadnaught was 16,204, so it was highly unlikely that anyone would realize for a long time that Lieutenant Stew Manosk was an interloper. The flight up to the Dreadnaught was uneventful. Hans seatmate fell asleep. Hah smiled. Too much shore leave, perhaps?

After they docked with the Destiny, Han filed off the ship, then headed for the nearest unoccupied datapad. The ship was big enough that nobody would be too surprised to see him call up a schematic showing what was located on each deck.

There we go . . . level four, section three . . .

Hah quickly headed for the nearest turbolift. He boarded one, then was quickly shuffled into the back, as others crowded in on the next deck. Han was staring straight ahead when he suddenly realized to his horror that he knew the young officer standing near the door!

It was Tedris Bjalin, the young lieutenant who had, so systematically, stripped Hans uniform of rank during his court-martial.

Hah surreptitiously eased himself as far to the right as he could, behind a taller man, crossing his fingers that Tedris wouldnt turn around. The lieutenant didnt, and he got off at the next floor. Hah breathed a long, quiet sigh of relief. OfaU the lousy coincidences, one of the few guys who could ID me.t Actu-ally, it wasnt such an odd coincidence. Tedris was from the Outer Rim Territories. It wasnt too surprising that hed be assigned out here, since he knew these spaceways. Ill just have to make sure I stay out of his way . . .

Once on level four, Hah walked quickly along, looking for the corridor leading to section three. He found it, turned in, then walked down to the end. The highest-rank-ing officers always had offices with a viewport. One of the privileges of rank.

Han found the correct door, then hesitated, squared his shoulders, and felt in his pocket for the Hutt gift. It was a lovely (and quite valuable) mans ring, platinum, set with a large and flawless Bothan glitterstone. The anterior office was occupied by a silver droid, who was sitting before a desk, entering data on a datapad. The droid looked up as Han entered. May I help you, Lieuten-ant? I need to see Admiral Greelanx, Han said.

Do you have an appointment, Lieutenant?

No, not exactly, Han said. But I know hell want to see me. I have some . . . information . . . for him. You know what I mean? He leered, then winked, deliberately attempting to overload the inference circuits in the droids programming.

The silver droids green eyes flashed slightly as the crea-ture tried to interpret what Han was saying. Finally, it stirred. Excuse me, Lieutenant, perhaps you should speak with the Admirals aide. Sure, Han said, standing at ease.

The droid hastened into the next room, and Han could faintly hear it expostulating with someone inside. Finally, it came back out, followed by an extremely irritated-looking senior lieutenant. Han snapped to attention and saluted. Whats going on here, Lieutenant? the man snapped. Sir, Lieutenant Stevv Manosk, requesting to see the admiral, sir!

State your business, Lieutenant, the man, whose name badge identified him as Kern Fallon, ordered. Sir, I have a message for the admiral. Its a . . . per-sonal . . . message, sir. Han was taking a calculated risk that Greelanx was as morally corrupt as many of the high-ranking Imperial officers hed encountered. If the man took bribes, then there was a good chance that he was far from being an ascetic type where the ladies were con-cerned . . .

Fallon raised an eyebrow. I beg your pardon, Lieuten-ant?

Han sensed that he was being tested, and didnt change expression. Sir, she told me to give the message only to the admiral, sir.

She? Fallons voice fell until he was whispering.

You mean Malessa?

Hah allowed his eyes to widen and gambled. Sir, this message is from Lady Greelanx? he said, in shocked tones. Who is Malessa?

If Malessa is Lady Greelanx name, Im done for, he thought.

But his luck held. Senior Lieutenant Fallons eyes went wide. Lady Greelanx, but of course! I meant her, I just . . . slip of the tongue, Malessa is my wife, I just . . . slip of the tongue, I assure you, I was just thinking of her . . . wait just a moment . . .

Fallon bustled inside, and Han allowed himself a smug smile. Pure sabacc, he thought. It had been a fairly safe bet that good old Admiral Greelanx had a mistress or two on the side . . . Moments later he was in the admirals large inner office, with its tasteful furnishings and viewport that allowed the admiral to admire his squadron as they hung in orbit.

Greelanx was a stocky man of medium height, with thin-ning gray hair and a small, squarish mustache. He was standing behind his desk when Hah entered, looking some-what alarmed. Lieutenant? You bring a message from my wife?

Han took a deep breath and said, Sir, what I have to convey can only be said in utter privacy, sir. Greelanx studied him for a moment, then beckoned Han closer and slapped a control beneath his desk. Privacy screen on, and jamming activated, he said. Now, tell me what this is all about. Hah held out the ring. Admiral, I bring you a gift from the Hutt Lords of Nal Hutta. They want to deal. Greelanxs eyes lit up at the sight of the valuable piece of jewelry, but he did not touch it. I see, he said. I cant say Im surprised, either. The slugs dont want to have their comfortable, crime-ridden lives disturbed, eh?

Han nodded. Thats about the size of it, Admiral. And they are willing to pay well for the privilege. Were talking all the Lords of Nal Hutta, here. They are prepared to be very generous. Greelanx finally allowed himself to pick up the ring and examine it, then he slipped it onto his finger. It fitted per-fectly. Suits you very well, sir, Han said.

Yes, it does, Greelanx agreed. He toyed with the ring, sliding it back and forth thoughtfully. I must admit, I find the Hutt offer . . . tempting, he said, finally. Especially since I plan to retire next year. It would be nice to have a chance to... augment... my pension. I quite agree, sir. But my orders are clear, and I cannot go against them, Greelanx said, slipping the ring off and holding it out toward Han. Im afraid we cannot do business, young man.

Han tensed, but made himself stay calm. He could tell Greelanx was really tempted. Sir, what are your orders? he asked. Perhaps we can think of something that will benefit us both, and yet leave you free of any charge of wrongdoing.

Greelanx laughed bitterly, a short, bitten-off laugh. Hardly, young man. My orders are to enter the Hutt sys-tem, execute order Base Delta Zero upon the Smugglers Moon, Nar Shaddaa, and then blockade Nal Hutta and Nar Hekka until the Hutts agree to allow full customs inspec-tions and a complete military presence on their worlds. The Moff doesnt want to cripple the Hutts too badly, but he wants Nar Shaddaa reduced to rubble.

Hah swallowed, his mouth dry. Base Delta Zero was an order that called for the decimation of a world all life, all vessels, all systems-even droids were to be captured or destroyed. His worse nightmare come true.

Admiral . . . have you completed your battle plan?

Hah asked.

My staff has been working on it, Greelanx said. And I am reviewing it now. Why? The Hurts would like to purchase the detailed plan, sir, Han said. Name your price. Greelanx was obviously intrigued by Hans statement. Buy the battle plan? he said, his voice expressing sur-prise. What good will that do you?

Give us a fighting chance, perhaps, sir, Han said.

Us? the admiral looked sharply at Hah. Youre one of them? A smuggler? Yes, sir. Greelanx shrugged. Im surprised, he admitted. You wear the uniform well. Thank you, sir, Han said, and he meant it.

Greelanx paced slowly around the office, obviously thinking, tossing the ring up and then catching it. Finally, he came to stand before Hah again. Youre saying that your Hutt employers will pay me what I ask for my battle plan, he said.

Yes, sir, Han said. For that, and for taking the first reasonable, strategically justifiable opportunity to withdraw your squadron. Well take care of the rest.

Hmmmmmm... Greelanx thought some more, then, finally, as if mang a decision, he slipped the ring back on his finger. Very well, young man, we have a deal, he said. I want my payment in gems . . . small, easy to dispose of, and not terribly traceable. I shall make you a list of the types and weights I wish. Fine, sir, Han said. You do that.

Sit down, over there. Greelanx pointed to a couch across his office. Ill finish reviewing the battle plan, and then you can have it.

Han nodded, and went to sit down, as told. He was a little surprised that it had been that easy. He wondered if he should be suspicious of Greelanx, but the man seemed genuinely motivated by greed. But there was something else going on, too . . . something Han couldnt put his finger on . . . Greelanx worked for nearly two hours, then, finally, stood up and beckoned Han into the privacy field again. I have it, he said. Nothing terribly inspired, standard Im-perial tactics, but eminently workable. We should be able to cut any smuggler fleet to ribbons, Im afraid.

Thats our concern, Hah said. 3fou just stick to this, Admiral he indicated the battle plan-and when you can justifiably withdraw your squadron, you do it. Ill be back to pay you. You are a pilot, are you not? Greelanx asked.

You bet I am, sir, Han said. He grinned at the older man. Youre going to wish you had me on your side. The admiral chuckled. Cocky, arent you? But the best pilots always are. Very well, then, Ill leave a shuttle for you at these coordinates. He added a line to the sheet of flimsy containing the battle plan. Wear that uniform. All the docking codes youll need will be in the navicomputer. Ill expect you one week to the day and hour after the attack. Is that understood?

Han nodded. Yes, sir, I understand. Ill be back, count on it. The Hutts are only too aware of their danger. Theyll pay off, no complaints.

At least none youll hear, he added silently.

Very well. That concludes our business, Greelanx said. Although, young man, I believe you are overly optimistic about your chances against my squadron.

Han nodded. Noted, Admiral. But all we want is a fighting chance.

Youll get it, Greelanx said. But your people had bet-ter be prepared to defend themselves. My attack will be genuine.

Han saluted. Yes, sir.

Then he executed a perfect about-face, and strode from the room.

The corners of Aruk the Hutts wide, lipless mouth turned down as he squinted his protuberant eyes at the shipping report displayed on his datapad. He used to relish going over all the facts and figures . . . the quar-terly, semi-annual, and annual reports, the Ylesian profit statements, the prospectuses for new companies, his net worth statement, and all the other reports on the vast and varied financial enterprises of Besadii kajidic... but lately, it was becoming more and more of a chore to con-centrate on them. Abstractedly, Aruk reached for another of the nala-tree frogs that Teroenza shipped him from Ylesia. The tlanda Til had been faithful to his promise to provide only the biggest, tastiest, freshest frogs to his Hutt overlord.

Aruks hand dosed around the nala-tree frog. The terri-fied creature squirmed wildly in the Hutt Irds grip. Opening his mouth, Aruk tossed the wriggling morsel in, then rolled it around on his tongue, savoring its frenzied struggles for a long minute or two before finally swallowing the thing whole. Delicious . . . Aruk thought with a contented sigh. He frowned again at the datapad. These reports could wait. Perhaps hed rake a nap, though he knew he really shouldnt. His physician and the med droids had both in-sisted that he get more exercise. Every day that he didnt get off his sled and wriggle around under his own power, they complained and lectured. Every time he ate rich food, or smoked his hookah, they fussed, insisting that he was endangering his cardiovascular system. Aruk knew they were right, that his circulation was sluggish, he could tell because the greenish patches on his leather hide had dark ened. But he was old, blast it, and at his age, he should be allowed to do just as he liked which included smoking, eating what he wanted, and not exercising. And . . . not reading incomprehensible financial reports.

Aruk resolved to turn the financial report over to Durga. Time the youngster began taking some of the load off his parents shoulders.

The aging Hutt Lord took another nala-tree frog to sa-vor, then, with a sigh, he closed his bulbous eyes for a delightful afternoon nap . . .

All right, you sentients, settle down! roared Mako Spince. His amplified voice resounded off the walls of the large auditorium at The Chance Castle where Han had first seen Xaverri perform. The hotel-casino had generously do-nated the space, when Mako had called a meeting of repre-sentatives from every enclave, both humanoid and nonhumanoid, on Nar Shaddaa. I said, settle down!

Slowly the crowd quieted. Mako waited until he had

their full attention, then he said, Okay, guys. Im no politician, so I dont know how to make a speech. The best I can do is just tell you the facts as we know em. Okay?

The crowd indicated their approval of Makos words with a muted buzz of applause. In the front of the crowd, a Gotal yelled, Go on, Mako!

Okay. Mako held up his right hand, and used his left to tick off points on his fingers as he spoke. Fact number one. Fellow sentients and inhabitants of Nar Shaddaa . . . we are in a world of trouble. Within a week, a squadron of Imperial vessels is going to be dispatched from Teth, sent by our own beloved Moff, Sam Shild. This squadron has orders to wipe us out. Not give us a bloody nose, or destroy some of our ships. I mean theyre going to do their best to see that no more smuggling happens out of Nar Shaddaa-ever. The place will be a smoking ruin.

A murmur of fear ran through the auditorium as the assembled smugglers tried to assimilate Makos words.

Fact number two, Mako went on, were on our own for this one, folks. The Hutts have just spent a bundle of credits installing brand-new planetary defense shields so they can hide behind em on Nal Hutta, while the Imp fleet use s up their ammo on us. The Hutts have, by report, hired a small fleet of meres to come in and help defend them, but their primary strategy is just to let the Imps have Nar Shad-daa, and hope thatll satisfy cm.

Boos, hisses, and catcalls of all kinds filled the space, drowning Mako out. The smugglers howled their rage, their threats, their anger at the Hutts. It was nearly five minutes before Mako could make himself heard again.

Yeah, yeah! It makes me mad, too, friends, but what can you do? Theyre Hutts, so whaddaya expect, folks? But anyway thats the point. Whatever we do about this, its our call. The slugs aint gonna help us out. Grumbling, the crowd subsided.

Okay, fact three. We aint exactly helpless, fellow sen-tients. We have it on good authority that the Imp squadron doesnt include anything with super-heavy firepower. No Star Destroyers. Thats good news for us. That means we can fight back!

Mutters of consternation swelled, mingled with yells of determination Yeah! Well fight! Well kick their butts! We wanna fight! Those Imps cant shoot for sour trig-berries! We aint running from a bunch of Imps! Well make em, sorry they attacked us!

Mako grinned. Hey, fellow sentients, my thoughts ex-actly. I intend to fight this fleet, and if its just me out there in my one ship, so be it. Nobody is wiping me out without a fight! Nobody? This time, the cheers from the crowd were deafening.

Yeah! MakoT You lead us, Mako! Yeah, well fight!

Mako motioned for quiet. All right, those who want to fight, raise their hands, or paws or tentacles or whatever you got. Those who dont wanna fight-I suggest you take your belongings and your families and head out right now. Its gonna get dicey around here, real soon.

Hah, who was watching from the wings of the stage, was surprised to see that the vast majority of the assembled beings stayed. Only a couple of dozen sentients got up and left. Mako waited until they were out of the way before he started in again. Okay, folks. First thing we need is for everyone with some battle experience to come on down here to the front. Im not talkin about winging a pirate who got too close, Im talkin real combat experience in space, specially against the Imperials. Cmon down here.

Over the next several minutes about forty sentients, most of them humanoid, made their way down front. Okay, guys, Mako said. The first thing we need here in planning a counteroffensive is a leader. Anyone wanna vol-unteer?

One of the humanoids, a Bothan, pointed up at the se-nior smuggler. You, Mako! You be our leader! he shouted.

The crowd reacted enthusiastically to this suggestion, and soon a swelling chant was heard. Ma-ko!

Ma-ko! Ma-koll MA-KO!

The chanting went on, gaining in volume, until Hah wanted to put his hands over his ears. Mako waved his arms, and silence descended. Okay! Okay! he said, his teeth flashing in a wide grin. Im real flattered, folks. And I swear to you that Ill do my best for you. I swear it! Thunderous cheers erupted again. Okay, one more thing, then Im gonna dismiss you for now, Mako said. I want you to meet my right-hand man, folks. A lot of you know him as a smuggler with a cranky ship and a big, furry sidekick. Han Solo, cmon out here!

Hah walked out. He and Mako had basically figured that the senior smuggler would get tapped to lead the Nar Shaddaa forces. Things were going just as the two of them had figured they would. More thunderous cheers, and a chant of Ma-ko! Hah!

Mako! Hah! sprang up.

Hah waved at the crowd, feeling his cheeks grow warm. Hed never before had thousands of people cheering just for him before. When hed been Xaverris assistant, hed shared the spotlight, but it wasnt the same as this. Hearing all these people applauding him was a weird-but pleas-ant---experience. Okay, folks, Mako said, waving again for quiet. Im gonna ask my combat veterans down there-he indicated the little crowd to stay in close touch and check in here at Tile Chance Castle each morning. Well post notice of meetings or drills outside the auditorium, okay? Now lets have a round of applause for our brave volunteers Irere!

Cheers resounded. It was obvious that the crowd of sen-tients felt tremendously better, just knowing they were go-ing to do something, instead of tamely waiting to be slaughtered. Once the main crowd had left, Mako addressed the combat veterans. Okay, Han and me are gonna put to-gether a plan for our defense over the next day or so, and then well brief you on it, and begin battle drills. By the tinre those Imps get here, everyone is going to know just what to do, and thats a promise. If you folks know any other sentients with combat experience, bring em along to the briefing. Got that? The veterans all indicated that they did. Good, Mako said. Over the next couple of days, get your ships in prime fighting condition. Shields fully charged, armor reinforced, all lasers charged . . . you know the drill. We need .all our ships working at full capacity. So lets get started, right? Right! riley shouted. After Mako dismissed the cmbat veterans, he and Hah headed for one of the meeting rooms in the back of the casino, where they were joined by the rest of the smuggler High Command-as Mako and Han had jokingly dubbed their group. Chewbacca, Roa, Shug Ninx, Salla Zend, Lando Calrissian, Rik Duel, and Sinewy Ana Blue made up Makos elite group of experienced smugglers. Mako and Han didnt plan to tell anyone but the High Command that they were in possession of the Imperial bat-tle plan. They figured that might make the smugglers over-confident, and that would be disastrous for their side. Also, some smugglers would sell their grandmothers for enough credits, and they couldnt afford a security leak.

As Han sat beside him, Mako called up a holographic schematic on his datapad, and projected it above the table-top. All those present leaned forward to study the plan.

Look here. Mako used a laser pointer to indicate the small, holographic representations of the ships in question. Weve got the Imp capital ships coming out of hyperspace here, and advancing on Nar Shaddaa. And sixteen skirmish line ships, Guardian-class Customs light cruisers, theyll be coming out of hyperspace in a shell formation to surround Nar Shaddaa. Then weve got two recon line vessels, thatll be these Carrack-class cruisers, one on each side ... here and here. Everyone got that? Got it, Rik Duel said.

And then, back here in a wedge formation, are the three Dreadnaughts and the four bulk cruisers . . . the heavy stuff. Remember that these Dreadnaughts each carry twelve TIE fighters, and the Carrack-class light cruisers each carry four recon TIEs. Thats at least forty-four TIEs were going to have to deal with. The members of Makos High Command looked at each other with worried expressions. Smugglers Run is beginning to look better and better, Sinewy Ana Blue said. The Imps would never be crazy enough to send a fleet into an asteroid field.

Han was quick to reassure them. Hey, we can handle these TIEs, he insisted. No shielding, dont forget. Theyre fast little suckers, true, but even a brush with a quad or turbolaser beam and . . . He opened both hands and mouthed boom.

Mako nodded. Han used to fly TIE fighters in combat situations, and while I was in the Academy I trained in them. The only reason were still here is that were not still doing it. TIE fighter pilots are really, really good . . . but that doesnt keep most ofem from winding up really, really dead. Okay, Lando spoke up, so we know what the Impe-rial force is, and how theyre going to approach us. How do we fight back against them, using freighters and a few one-man fighters like the one Roas been building?

Everyone turned to look at the senior smuggler. Yeah, Ive almost finished work on her, Roa said. Shes gonna be a sweet little ship to handle.

What are you naming her? Blue asked, with an impish grin.

Roa grinned back at her. The Lwyll, of course, he replied.

Roa and his lady love, Lwyll, had been an on-again, off-again item on Nar Shaddaa for over ten years. Everyone knew Lwyll. The lovely blond woman was one of the few people on the Smugglers Moon who lived a completely legitimate life, earning an honest credit for an honest days work. Roa had been after her for years to come and live with him, but Lwyll would never do it. She saw him, but she saw other men, too, and Roa was wounded whenever she did it.

Still, hed never been able to bring himself to take the ultimate plunge and ask her to marry him. Han and the other smugglers had teased Roa about his indecision. All his friends could tell that Lwyll was the best thing that had ever happened to Roa.

Youre planning to fly LwyU against the TIEs? Mako asked. What does the real Lwyll have to say about that?

Roa sighed, and then gave his friends a rneful grin. Be-lieve me, she had plenty to say. You guys arent going to believe this . . . but last night I up and asked Lwyll to marry me. General murmurs of surprise ran around the table. Dont keep us in suspense, Blue cried, what did she say?

She said no, Roa said. The senior smugglers broad, open features sagged. She said she didnt want to wind up a widow.

Cant blame her for that, Lando said. None of the smugglers in the room was married, and it was no accident. Living bn the edge as they did, it was impossible for them to maintain anything approaching a normal family life.

Chewbacca turned to Han and spoke earnestly. The Corellian translated for those who didnt understand Wookiee. Roa, Chewie says that if you were a Wookiee, itd be time for you to settle down. He thinks Lwyll is too good to lose. He likes her.

Roa grinned. Hes right. Shes too good to lose. Thats why this battle is my last stand as a smuggler, guys. If I live through it, I m gonna quit this life and go straight.

Everyone was amazed to hear this from the senior smug-gler, knowing how much Roa loved the life hed chosen. Yep, Im gonna do it, Roa insisted. And Lwyll says if I do, shell be my wife. Well . . . congratulations! Lando said. Thats great news. Youre getting one wonderful woman, Roa. All the smugglers echoed the young gamblers senti-ments.

I know it, Roa agreed. So . . . all I gotta do is make it through this battle . . . Speaking of which, we ought to get back to it, Mako said. And figure out a way to beat these Imps. We have one big advantage, Roa said. The element of surprise.

Mako stared at him. We know when theyre coming, so theres no element of surprise there. But . . . theyre in-vading us. How are we supposed to surprise them?

Roa smiled genially and waved a hand at the ceiling.

Think, my friends, think! Whats up there?

A shield that needs fixing a lot, Mako said grimly.

Past that, Roa said.

Traffic buoys, Han said.

Farther, Roa said.

Han thought for a moment, then a slow smile crept over his face. Salla laughed. I get it! Space junk!

Dozens . . . hundreds . . . of junked spaceships and parts of space-ships. Roa was nodding at tile tall lady smuggler. Right. So much space junk in that ring around Nar Shaddaa that ships could hide behind it, or beneath it, or in its shadow-and then pop out and catch the Imp fleet by surprise. Chewie voiced a loud Hrrrrnnnnnnn!

Now it was Makos turn to nod excitedly. I think you got something there, Roa, he said. And it might work. Especially if we staged a couple of ships frantically running for cover freighters, theyll think theyre civs-and got the Imps to chase em until theyre right where we want them, then-he punched the air-wham!

We pop out of cover and clobber them!

Excitedly tile senior smuggler keyed the operation Roa had described into the datapad. The High Command watched as the ring of debris around Nar Shaddaa swam into view. As the Imperial skirmish ships zoomed in in pur-suit of two small freighters, converging on the rightmost hemisphere (if one were facing Nal Hutta), suddenly a multitude of assorted freighters and other ships zipped out of concealment in the debris ring and zeroed in on the Imperial ships, lasers flashing. Okay, that should enable us to take care of a good per-centage of those skirmish ships, Han said. But what do we do about the recon vessels, and that wedge of capital-class ships . . . the Dreadnaughts and bulk cruisers?

A gloomy silence fell. Finally Mako spoke up. I know the Hutts are hiring a mere force-probably pirates-to defend Nal Hutta. The slugs dont give a hoot about Nar Shaddaa, not in comparison to their own precious hides, but if that mere captain has any smarts, hell recognize that we could add significantly to his firepower. Maybe we can get him, whoever he is, to take part in the battle. Its worth a try, at least. Lando was staring morosely at the creeping holographic image of the bulk cruisers and Dreadnaughts advancing on Nar Shaddaa. Those pirates are apt to have superior fire-power, right? Mako nodded. Right. Theyll probably have some cap-tured Imp vessels that theyve modified. Maybe even some heavy weaponry like proton torpedoes. But their ammo would be limited. Its hard to just buy proton torpedoes to arm pirated Imp vessels. The Imps kinda frown on having their own ships used against cm.

He said this last so dryly that a chuckle ran around the table.

Han was studying the wedge of capital-class ships. All of these ships have forward-firing main guns, he said. Too bad we cant hit them with a flank attack. But we just dont have the ships to do it, if the main part of our fleet will still be engaging those skirmish ships and the TIEs. Maybe thats where we can convince the meres to help us, Mako said thoughtfully. If they attacked on the Imp flank, theyd stand a decent chance of crippling one of those big ships, and that would be a ship they could com-mandeer after the battle. Theyd love that!

Yeah . . . provided we could create some kind of di-version so the pirates could flank them, Han said. Rik Duel stroked his short, elegant beard while he thought. What we need is another fleet to come at them in a head-on run, he said.

But we dont have enough ships to dMde our forces

that much, Roa said. If we do, were likely to lose everything

If we dont, were likely to lose Nar Shaddaa, Lando pointed out. Im no ex-Imp officer like Han here is, but it seems to me that weve got to do whatever it takes to keep these big ships from turning and blasting away at our moons shields. Theyre old, and it wouldnt take too many salvos to disable them. Then theyd level the place.

Landos right, Shug Ninx said. We need something to keep those big ships occupied so the mercs---or whoever-can make a flank attack. Maybe we can . . . I dont know . . divert their attention somehow. Well, a formation of ships coming at them head-on would certainly get their attention, Salla said. Question is, where do we get them? Were going to have our hands full over here-she pointed into the holographic displayfighting these skirmish ships and TIEs.

Han had been staring into the holographic display, thinking how real the minuscule fleet appeared, down to the tiny TIE fighters. Too bad, he thougilt, we cant project a hologram at the Imps and nmke them believe theyre un-der attack . . .

The idea suddenly coalesced in his brain. Thats it! he shouted. That could work? Conversation around the table ceased, and everyone stared at the Corellian. Hah grinned at his friends excitedly. Hey, I think I may know somebody who can provide us with that head-on attack force. We can use them as a diver-sion, for long enough to distract those heavy cruisers!

Chewbacca had obviously followed Hafts thinking. The Wookiee banged his fist on the table and roared his ap-proval.

The remainder of the group, however, stared at Hah, confused, apparently completely in the dark. Huh? Lando said. Who? What?

Han ignored his friend. Leaping to his feet, he gestured at Mako. Ive gotta put in a call-does the manager here have a comm unit?

Tile manager of The Chance Castle was only too happy to allow Han to use his unit. All of the big casinos knew that a major Imperial raid would be very bad for business . . aria Tharen stood beside Sam Shild on the observation platform of the space station orbiting the planet Teth. The observation platform was enclosed mostly by force fields, so there was nothing visible between them and the surrounding vacuum. Bria could look straight ahead, to her left, her right, and overhead, and see nothing but naked space or the massive, turning shape of the planet. The young woman repressed a shiver as she thought of the cold, airless blackness scant meters away. Despite her unease, the brilliant, adoring smile on her face never wavered. When shed taken this assignment, Bria had already been a fairly good actress, able to conceal her true feelings automatically. But by now, she thought grimly, I probably tieserve an award. Too bad there isnt an Undercover Agent of the Year trophy . . .

The thought was so ridiculous that it made her smile genuine, for a brief second. Moff Shild put an arm around her and squeezed her shoulders, pointing. Look, my dear! Here they come!

The small contingent of VIPs on the observation plat-form began applauding as the Imperial fleet hove into view.

Bria smiled and clapped as the skirmish ships, the recon vessels, the bulk cruisers, and the Dreadnaughts glided slowly toward the reviewing platform. TIE fighters swooped and darted around the bigger ships like small in-sects poised to feed off a herd of grazers.

Shild was grinning ecstatically as he beheld his squad-ron. He gave Brias shoulders another hug, and she kept herself from shrinking away by an effort of will. Today marks the beginning of a new era of law and order in the Outer Rim, my dear! he said, in his political voice. Then he added, in a conspiratorial whisper, And the beginning of a new life for us, Bria!

Bria looked up at tile Moff inquiringly. Really, Sam?

How so?

He kept his voice low, but it was still intense, still force-ful. Once my fleet has wiped out Nar Shaddaa, and brought the Hutts to their... well, brought them to heel, my power in this sector will be unquestioned. And when I tap into the wealth of the Hutts the lesser dans and Desilijic, at least I will be able to afford to augment my military forces until I can take on much greater foes than a mob of thieving smugglers. Why does he always stn, nd like he g making a campaign speech? Bria wondered. Aloud she said, Desilijic? Why not Besadii, too?

In a private communique, the Emperor made it clear that Besadii is to remain unmolested, Shild said. Theyre useful to him, providing the Empire with trained slaves. Besadii must continue to prosper. Bria filed this information away as something to relay to Rion as soon as she could. Palpatine even has his fingers in Hutt internal politics? Is there anything the Emperor doesnt try to turn to his personal advantage? Aloud she said, Oh, well, that makes sense.

Yes, the Emperor is a canny fellow, Shild said, still speaking in that almost whisper. But . . . perhaps . . . not canny enough.

Bria was puzzled. What do you mean, Sam?

He smiled, his public smile, but there was something in his eyes that made Bria uneasy. I fear that between the growing rebellions on the innermost worlds and the inter-hal political squabblings in the highest echelons, our be-loved Emperor has overextended himself. He is losing his grip in the Outer Rim Territories. The Imperial forces are spread so thin in these sectors that a strong leader with a powerful military force to back him could simply . . . se-cede . . . from the Empire. Bria looked at him, her eyes wide with shock. He was talking sedition! Didnt he realize that? Shild mistook her look for amazed appreciation. He beamed at her. Oh, dont think I havent thought of it, my dear. Theres no reason that the Outer Rim Territories couldnt become another Corporate Sector, with no ties or allegiance to the Empire. If I had sufficient military might, I could lead the Outer Rim to independence and prosper-ity-it would be glorious!

Bria had to clench her teeth to keep her jaw from drop-ping. What in the name of Xendors Minions has gotten into him? I always knew Sam was arrogant, but he sounds like a madman!

Was it possible that the Moffhad fallen under some kind of . . . influence? Bria knew there were some telepathic species of aliens, but shed never heard of any that could do anything like this. Maybe Shild had simply gone crazy. That was one possible explanation.

But the light in Shilds dark eyes was not that of a mad-man, it was the light of a man with a mission. And after leading the Outer Rim Territories to glory, my d6ar-he gave her another one-armed hug-its pos-sible that I should turn my concentration . . . well, shall we say, toward more populated areas of the galaxy. There are unhappy worlds, here in the Empire, worlds that are looking for new leadership. I could provide that leader-ship.

I cant believe Im hearing this/Hes talking about chal-lenging the Emperor!

Bria was terrified to even stand here and listen to Shild. Palpatine had ears everywhere. Surely the Emperor would discover Shilds outrageous ambition, and eliminate him as casually as she might slap a stinging insect.

The Imperial fleet was moving magnificently past them now, passing in review. Shild dropped his arm from around Bria, stepped forward to stand on the very edge of the platform, looking slim and elegant in his Moffs uniform. He saluted his troops as they glided past him.

Bria stood back, near the entrance, feeling that coldness, that near panic grow, until it was everything she could do not to leave, to just run away and abandon Shild to face the consequences of his own egotistica] ambition.

Ill find out just what hes planning, if I can, she prom-ised herself, and then Ill go. Bria stared at Shild, realizing she was now regarding him the same way she would a man who had contracted a terri-ble incurable disease. A walking dead man. She found she was actually sorry that Shild had contracted this disease, this craving for power. The Moff had always treated her well, and her assignment could have been far worse.

For a wild moment she considered trying to talk some sense into Shild, but she quickly abandoned the thought. The Moff knew she was intelligent, and he valued that, but he had sufficient masculine arrogance that hed never listen to a woman he was using as a front to disguise his sexual peccadilloes. The fleet was nearly past the reviewing stand now. In minutes, as soon as theyd cleared Teths gravity well, theyd jump to hyperspace on the first leg of the long jour-ney to the YToub system. On the Outer Rim, systems tended to be spread farther apart than they were in the more crowded central portions of the galaxy.

Bria found herself, as she often did, thinking of Han. Surely he was no longer on Nar Shaddaa. Hed gone back to his Hutt masters, delivered Shilds warning, then taken off. Han was good at self-preservation. He wouldnt try any-thing crazy like trying tofight the Imperial squadron, would he? Would he?

Brias mouth was terribly dry. She licked her lips, forced herself to swallow, then drifted back through the massive door to the magnificent reception inside, in search of a cup of stim-tea. As she sipped it, Bria tried again and again to convince herself that Han was long gone from Nar Shaddaa, safe from Admiral Greelanx and his troops.

But, in her heart of hearts, she didnt believe it. Bria had a sudden vivid memory of the Corellian that time they were about to be boarded by slavers, remembered Hah drawing his blaster and squaring his jaw . . . remembered him vowing, Theyre not getting me without a fight! The odds against them had been approximately forty to three . . .

Brias hands were shaking so badly she had to put the cup down on the table. She closed her eyes, fighting for control. What if he tries to fight? What fi they kill him? I wouM probably never know . . . And that was the most terrible thought of all . . .

Captain Soontir Fel stood on the bridge of the Dread-naught Pride of the Senate, preparing to follow his com-mander into hyperspace. In his gray uniform, with decorations and rank insignia providing touches of color, Fel was an impressive sight that inspired confidence in those under his command. One of the youngest people ever to receive a captains conunission in the Imperial Navy, Fel was a tall, muscular man, broad-shouldered and exceptionally strong. Black hair, dark eyes, and rugged, almost handsome features made him look as though hed just stepped out of an Impe-rial Navy recrniting rolo-poster.

Fel was a good, conscientious officer, well liked by his men. He had a special camaraderie with his TIE fighter pilots. Soontir Fel had once been a TIE fighter pilot him-self, and his exploits and accomplishments were almost legendary.

In a way, Fel wished he could be back down there in the TIE fighter squad room fight now, relaxing, joking, and sipping cups of stim-tea with the others. Fel was unhappy with his current assignment. For one thing, this Dreadnaught was a clunky old wagon, especially compared to the new Imperial Star De-stroyers. Fel would have given a great deal to be able to command one of those ships!

But he was determined to do his best by the Pride; he just hoped hed get the chance. Fel had studied Admiral Greelanxs battle plan, and he was not impressed. Oh, it was by the book, all right, but Fel thought the battle plan was too inflexible, too dependent on several assumptions that Fel perceived as either shaky or outright erroneous.

In the first place, Greetanx was certain that the smug-glers were nothing but a disorganized rabble, who couldnt possibly mount a coordinated attack. Soontir Fel had com-manded Customs patrol ships (as had Greelanx), and he knew for a fact that many of these smuggler pilots were the equal of any Imperial pilot ever graduated. They had fast reflexes, were excellent shots, and possessed a reckless courage that made them dangerous customers in a fight.

They were tough and independent, but if the smugglers found someone to lead them wisely, Fel thought that they might well put together a defense to be reckoned with.

Secondly, Greelanx believed that since the smugglers could not possibly pose a threat to this force, there was no point in attempting surprise. The admirals plan called for their squadron to emerge from hyperspace well within range of Nar Shaddaas sensors.

Fel thought that assumption amounted to overconfi-dence, pure and simple. And overconfidence was fre-quently a disaster in combat.

The worst problem, as far as Fel was concerned, was implementing order Base Delta Zero on Nar Shaddaa.

Fel knew that last wasnt Greelanxs fault. The Sector Moff had issued that order. But in the admirals place, Fel would have at least tried to get Sam Shild to modify that instruction. The Emperors directive had been to shut down the smuggling operations out of Nar Shaddaa and other smuggler nests, especially the gunrunners. The direc-rive hadnt included anytiling about razing the entire moon. Fel had had considerable combat experience, and he knew that sentients of most spe(Aes would fight like cornered Corellian vrelts when it came to protecting their homes and families. There were millions of sentients on Nar Shaddaa, many of whom were only peripherally involved with the smug-gling business. Elderly sentients, children . . . Soontit Fel grimaced. This would be his first Imperial-ordered massacre. Hed been lucky to avoid such an order for this long, the way things were going.

Fel would carry out his orders, but he wasnt happy about them. He knew images of the flaming buildings would haunt him, as he gave each order to fire. And after-ward . . . theyd have to send down shuttles and ground troops to mop up, and he, Fel, being a conscientious com-mander, would have to oversee that operation.

Visions of smoking rubble strewn with blackened corpses filled his mind, and Fel took a deep breath. Stop it, he ordered himself sternly. There nothing you can do about it. Tormenting yourself over it serves no pur-pose . . .

As Fel watched, the Imperial Destiny suddenly acceler-ated strongly, then vanished from sight as it engaged its hyperdrive. Peacekeeper followed.

Fel was relieved to have something to do, anything to distract him from his thoughts. He glanced over at his navi-gator. Course laid in, Commander? Yes, Captain.

Very well. Commander Rosk, prepare to make the jump to lightspeed, on my order. Yes, sir. Fell watched the coordinates flash by on the navigational boards, then said, Engage hyperdrive. Yes, sir. Fel watched as the stars suddenly elongated, and there was, for the first time, a sensation of terrible velocity aboard the big ship.

The mission to wipe out Nar Shaddaa was under way.

Admiral Winstel Greelanx stood on the bridge of his own Dreadnaught, watching the star trails of hyperspace. The admiral had his own concerns about this mission, very different concerns from those felt by his captains, Reldo Dovlis and Soontir Fel.

Greetanx was aware that Fel did not think much of his planned strategy. Dovlis was a less imaginative, older of_ ricer, content to follow orders without question, so Gree-lanx expected no problems with him. Fel, on tile other hand . . . there could be problems there.

Greelanx sighed. If only this mission was as cut and dried as it appeared on the surface! Go to Nar Shaddaa, wipe out the wretc hed smugglers, and then blockade the YToub system. But it was far from being that simple.

Less than a full day after Moff Shild had called him into his office on Teth to give Greelanx his marching orders, file admiral had received a message in the most secret Imperial code, sent eyes only under the tightest security to Gree-lanxs persona] comlink.

The secrecy code on this message had bden so restrictive that the admiral hadnt even dared to have it decoded by one of his staff, even his top administrative aide or seere-tarial droid. No, hed laboriously sat down with a code key and translated the entire thing by himself, writing it out by hand onto a sheet of flimsy.

As directed, the admiral had kept no copies of the mes-sage, destroying the flimsy as soon as he was finished read-ing it through.

The admiral had checked and rechecked the codes, thinking there had to be some mistake. But they all checked out. This message came from the very highest ech-elons of Imperial Intelligence. Excomm was the branch of Imperial security that was answerable only to the Emperor himself, or to his top-ranking aide, Lord Vader.

Greelanx had never received such a message before in his career-and he had served over thirty years in the Navy.

He had memorized the message, and that was easy, for it had been short. The message had read Admiral Winstel Greelanx, eyes only, destroy after read-ing. Regarding Nar Shaddaa/Nal Hntta engagement.

You are advtsed for the good of your Empire to engage the enemy and suffer a strategic defeat. Minimize Impe-rim losses, and withdraw in good order.

Repeat you are to LOSE, Admiral. Do not attempt to confirm these orders. Do not discuss them with anyone. If you fail to comply, no excuses will be accepted.

Do NOT fail.

What did it all mean? Greelanx wondered. Someone very high up wanted Sam Shilds foray against the Hutts to fail. Who? And why?

Greelanx was not a particularly imaginative or intelligent man, but he was smart enough to realize that if he told Sam Shild about those orders, he would sound like a madman. He had no proof that he had received them. The encoded message had been time-sensitive impossible to copy, except manually, and designed to vanish within minutes after being downloaded.

And then had come the Hutt bribe. What a supreme irony, under the circumstances! A chance to increase his retirement nest egg by a thousandfold or more. Even if he hadnt gotten those secret orders, Greelanx would have found the Hutt offer difficult to reject.

Could the two things be related somehow? he won-dered. Or was it just an incredible coincidence? Greelanx had no way to tell.

The admiral was edgy and nervous about the entire ven-ture. Schemes ran through his head, only to be discarded as too risky. Should he try to contact the High Command? Tell the Moff? Take the Imperial Destiny to some remote location, then abscond in an Imperial shuttle? That last option seemed the most likely to ensure his continued existence. He could go to the Corporate Sector, perhaps. Somewhere far, far away.

But if he did that, Greelanx had soon realized, his family would pay for his escape. His son and daughter, his wife. Perilaps even his two mistresses.

Greelanx was not particularly fond of his wife, but he wished her no harm. And he loved his children, who were grown and married. He had a grandchild on the way.

No, the admiral decided, he could not risk them. If hed kept the flimsy and showed it to the Moff, Greelanx knew that hed have signed his and their death warrants. The hnperial security forces were swift and ruthless. Greelanx and his family could run to the ends of the universe, and the storm troopers would still hunt them down. All he could do was obey, and hope for the best. As he stood on the bridge of his ship, Admiral Winstel Greelanx thought of the young smuggler who had brought the Hutt offer. An offer he hadnt been able to refuse. Had the young man sensed filere was more going on than Gree-lanx was telling?

Hed seemed like an intelligent young fellow. Greelanx would have been willing to bet hed worn an Imperial uni-form before. Why had he left the service to become an outlaw? The admiral hated to think that young smuggler might be one of the sentients hed have to kill in order to make his attack on Nar Shaddaa appear legitimate.

Greelanx watched the star trails, thinking . . . and wor-rying. How did I get myself into this? he wondered. And how in the name of all thats sacred do I get myself out of it? Durga the Hutt was working in his office when a servitor droid rolled rapidly in. Sir! SirT The Ix)rd Aruk has been taken ill! Please come!

The young Hutt Lord abandoned his datapad and wrig-gled quickly after the droid, down endless corridors in the huge Besadii enclave. He found his parent lying limp, eyes rolled back in his head, sprawled across his repulsor sled. Aruks personal physician, a Hutt named Grodo, was work-ing over the unconscious Besadii leader, assisted by two med droids.

What happened? Durga demanded breathlessly as he undulated up to them, his tail pushing him along in long, swift glides. Is he going to be all right?

We dont know yet, sir, the physician said brusquely. He was working hard over the unconscious Hutt, giving him a jab with an injector, then administering oxygen. A circulatory pump stim-unit was adhered to Aruks misec-tion, automatically sending mild jolts into the massive body to keep Aruks heartbeat regnlar. Aruks green-slimed tongne lolled limply out of his mouth. The sight terrified Durga. The young Hutt forced himself to halt several meters away, not wishing to get in the way. He was talking to his scribe, giving an order about some work, when suddenly, as the droid reported, he just slumped over. What do you think caused this? Durga said. Should I summon security, have them seal off the palace? No, sir, Grodo said. This is the result of some kind of

brain seizure, I suspect due to poor circulation. You know I

have been warning your parent aboutYes, yes, I remember, Durga said. In his anxiety, he grabbed the edge of a low inlaid table, and only realized hed been twisting it when the heavy wood splintered in his hands. Minutes later Aruk suddenly blinked, stirred, and then slowly raised himself, looking very puzzled. What? he croaked, his deep voice raw. What happened?

You collapsed, Lord, Grodo said. Some type of brain seizure. Caused by lack of oxygen to the brain, I suspect.

Caused by poor circulation, no doubt, Aruk grunted. Well . . . I feel fine, now. Except that my head is pound-ing.

I can administer something mild for the pain, Lord, the physician said, triggering his injector. Moments later Aruk sighed with relief. Much better. Lord Aruk, the physician said sternly, I want you to promise me that you will take better care of yourself. Let this episode be a warning to you. Aruk grumbled deep in his massive chest. At my age, I

should be able to do--Please, Father! Durga blurted. Listen to Grodo! You must mend your ways? The Besadii Lord grunted, then sighed. Very well. I promise to exercise for at least half an hour each day. And I will give up smoking my hookah.

And the rich food! cried the physician triumphantly, seizing the moment. Very well, Aruk growled. All except my favorite nala-tree frogs. I will not give them up. I believe we can .allow Your Excellency one treat, Grodo said, now prepared to be magnanimous in light of his win. If you give up all other rich foods, you may have a sensible amount of nala-tree frogs each day.

Durga was so relieved to see Aruk recovering that he glided right up to his parent and placed his small hand on that massive neck. You must take care of yourself, Father. I will exercise with you. It will be more enjoyable that way.

Aruks wide mouth turned up as he regarded his off-spring. Very well, my child. I promise I will take better care of myself.

Besadii needs you, Durga said. You are our greatest leader, Father!

Aruk grumbled a bit more under his breath, but Durga could tell that he was pleased by his offsprings concern.

The young Hutt Lord left his parent to the care of the physician and his med-droid assistants, and went back to his office, badly shaken.

For a moment hed thought that Aruk was dying, and that he would wind up trying to run Besadii all by himself. Durga had received a frightening insight he wasnt ready.

Especially with this crisis coming, he thought. The Im-perial fleet may be on its way to attack Nar Shaddaa . . .

Aruk had told his offspring not to worry, that the Imper-ials would not harm Besadii, or Ylesia. We supply them with slaves, the elderly Hutt said reassuringly. The Em-pire needs its slaves. Therefore they need Besadii.

Durga devoutly hoped that his parent was right about that...

Han, Chewbacca, and Salla Zend stood together on the windswept landing platform, watching Phantasms ramp . extrude from the ship. Moments later a figure with long black hair appeared and started down the ramp. Spotting Han, she waved.

Thats her, cmon! Hah told Salla. Chewie was already loping forward, growling a friendly greeting. Solo!

the newcomer cried. Chewbacca!

Xaverri? Han called back, jogging toward her. It was so good to see her again!

When they reached each other, he grabbed her shoul-ders, but she flung her arms around him and hugged him, hard. Han hugged her back, but he carefully kissed her forehead, rather than her mouth. After Xaverri greeted Chewie with a big hug and a Wookiee head-rub, she turned back to Han and Salla. Xaverri, I want you to meet Salla Zend, Hah said as the two women stood regarding each other. Xaverri, this is Salla, smuggler and expert me-chanic.

Hi, pleased to meet you! Salla said, sticking out her hand.

My pleasure, Xaverri said, shaking hands. Any friend of Solos is a friend of mine. Han wa s vastly uncomfortable. Ive never had two girl-friends meet each other bere, he thought. The Corellian wondered whether Xaverri would want to take up their relationship wilere theyd left off, months before. Salla, he knew, would likely take a dim view of that.

But, hey, she doesnt own me, he thought defensively.

It not like were married or anything.

Still, he was careful to walk beside Salla as he picked up Xaverris bag and they started across the permacrete of the landing field together.

Later, over fiatbread and traladon-cheese appetizers at Hans favorite Corellian eatery, he explained his plan to Xaverri.

When hed finished, she regarded him searchingly. Let me get this straight. You want me to create a holo-illusion of a whole bunch of smuggler vessels coming straight at these Imperial Capital-class ships. You want the illusion to be rea] enough, and last long enough, to cause the Imp vessels to be fooled into turning to fire on the fake fleet. Have I got it right?

Thats it, Han said. As shed detafied the plan, hed realized just what he was asking. Xaverri had never created anything on this scale before. Probably no one had.

Xaverri shook her head, her long black hair sliding over her shoulders. You dont ask much, do you, Solo?

Hey, Han said, trying to grin, think of it as a chaL lenge. Your greatest illusion ever? Any holo-illusion requires projectors, Xaverri said.

What can we use for them?

I was thinking we could get all the tri-dee projectors from the casinos, Hah said. You know, the ones that they use to project shows onto the screens in the gambling ar-eas, so people can watch the shows while they lose their shirts.

Xaverri frowned. Maybe, she said. But even if we could create the image of the fleet, the Imp sensors would tell them right away it was an illusion. Theyd ignore it.

Maybe we could jam their sensors? Salla suggested. After all, we can jam transmissions going out. Isnt there some way to jam whats going in?

The magician was looking at the smugglers with her eyes wide. You know something, she said, I think Im getting an idea . . .

Han leaned forward. Yeah? What?

She sipped her drink, thinking, then replied, I think we may be able to use the traffic-control buoys to send false data to the Imps. So theyll see the holo-illusion, at the same time as their sensors pick up data that tells them what theyre seeing is real?

Salla was excited. Great! That sounds perfect? Xaverri smiled at her. But Ill need help building all this. Slicers to help reprogram the traffic-control buoys, techs to build the projectors for the illusion. Do you know any good slicers and techs?

Salla grinned back and impulsively reached out a hand. The two women clasped hands over the table. You bet I do, Xaverri, the tall smuggler said. Shug and I will help. Chewbacca let out a loud, emphatic roar that caused a passing wait droid to drop a food tray and scuttle back into the kitchen.

Chewie says, include him in, too, Han supplied the translation with a grin. Xaverri . . . I know you probably gave up a fancy booking to come here and help us. I want you to know I-we-all appreciate it. Hey, Solo, its a chance to hurt the Imperials, the ma-gician said. How could I refuse? When Han and Chewie arrived for the promised big briefing of their combat pilots, they found most of the smuggler pilots and crews assembled in the auditorium of The Chance Castle. Mako was already onstage, exchanging jokes and jibes with his audience. When he saw Hah and Chewie, the senior smuggler rapped his knuckles on the rostrum to get his audiences attention. Okay, all of you, listen up! he shouted.

Silence descended. Listen good, you spacebums, Mako said, the pride and affection in his voice as he re-garded his troops taking away any possible sting from his words. Cause your lives, and the lives of those youre flyin with, may be at stake here.

Mako paused, surveying them all, seeing that he did, indeed, have their full attention. Heres how were gonna pull this little trick off. We cant be sure when the Imps are going to attack, but weve got a pretty good idea of the battle plan theyll follow. Thats cause the Imperial Navy has standard battle plans for just about any situation, and theyre trained to follow them, no matter what. Old Han here used to be an hnp officer, and hell back me up on this. Right, Hah? Han walked out onto the stage and nodded exaggerat-edly. Makos right! he shouted, because his voice wasnt amplified the way Makos was. The senior smuggler mo-tioned to the Corellian to come over and share the podium. Hah did so.

So, the standard plan for this kind of operation has them rendezvous and deploy fairly far out. If were lucky, well pick them up on our sensors. If not, we may have to scramble to get to our ships. Everyone prepared to do that?

All the smugglers agreed, with a shout, that they were prepared.

Good, Hah said. So theyre gonna deploy, maybe fix any last-minute problems. Then the Imps should make a microjump through hyperspace, so theyll arrive pretty close to the far side of Nar Shad daa, but well out of weap-ons range. By that time, well be in our ships and launched. Each ship is gonna go to its hiding place among the debris, or lose itself in regular space traffic. A couple of smaller fighters, like Roa in his LwyU, are gonna do recon. The bigger ships will fly false transponder codes, and the fight-ers will be either in cargo bays of the big freighters or clamped on to their hulls. The rest of us will just be inno-cent litfie spacers, and properly panicked when the Imps zoom into view. Right, gang? Yeah! Right! they yelled, loving the idea of getting the drop on the arrogant Imperial Navy. Mako took over again. Okay, at that point the Imps will send in their pickets for a quick look around. One of the captains in the front row waved a taloned paw. Vhats a picket, Mako? Han and Mako looked at each other and sighed. Sorry, Mako said. Pickets are the bigger reeon ships and their reeon TIE fighters, okay? We expect there will probably be two bigger recon ships, probably Carrackclass light cruisers. Each can carry four recon TIE fighters. Taken together, theyre called the pickets. OkayY Okay! yelled the smuggler.

Mako grinned evilly. Now, the Imps arent expecting us to put up any kind of organized resistance, and we dont want to disappoint them, do we, fellow sentients?

No! shouted the smugglers.

Okay, then. We want to keep the Imps where we want

them, right? Right!

Okay, then. To do that, weve got to show them exactly what, they expect to see. That way we can predict what theyll do, because theyll follow those Imp guidelines I told you about. When the Imp Admiral sends in his recon ships and then the skirmish vessels, which will follow a few min-utes behind the recon ships, hell be expecting us to think that this is the big attack. Hes going to sit back with his big Capital-class ships in their nice little regulation wedge, and hell expect this dis-organized band of bozos to come out fighting with every-thing weve got, since were not smart enough to hold back. That Admiral is figuring well take the recon pickets the Carrack-class vessels-and the skirmish ships-most likely customs corvettes-to make up his whole attack force. Well show em were not dumb! yelled a smuggler from the back.

Thats right, were gonna show cm. What were gonna do is make it look like weve thrown everything we have against the first Imp ships to cruise up to Nar Shad daa. Thatll be those recon ships and, approaching more slowly, the skirmish ships. Look here, and well show you. Mako nodded at Han, and he took up the narrative, while Mako used a holographic image and pointer on the large tri-dee screen to illustrate the battle plan for their troops. All right, Hah said, as you can see from Makos dia-gram, were gonna split up our ships into two groups, the First Strike Element and the Main Strike Element. The First Strike Element will be all the small ships without exceptionally heavy armament, plus a couple of the merc captains with those modified Customs patrol ships. So, lis-ten up. Im going to read the ship and captain names of the First Strike Element, while Mako puts your names up on the display.

ttan read off the list. Okay, then. Before were through, you people will know where you have to go, and what you have to do, and when you have to do it. What were here for today, as we said, is to show you what part youre going to play in the Big Picture.

Mako handed Han the pointer, and then took over. Okay, now for the Main Strike Element. Thats gonna be all our big ships, plus the freighters with heavy weapons, and the starfighter squadrons. Weve got six Y-wings, some Cloak-shape fighters, and assorted types of Z-95 Headhunt-ers. Heres the list. As Mako read off the list of the Main Strike Element, Han kept augmenting the holographic display. Soon the huge tri-dee screen in the casino auditorium looked like an elaborate pattern of different colored lines and squiggles, interspersed with three-dimensional representations of ships. Okay, so now you people know which Strike Element you belong to. Anyone not know? Several newcomers raised their hands, or paws, or tenta-cles, and were hastily assigned to one or the other element. Mako then went on The First Element will attack first, just like it sounds. Stay in the pairs weve assigned you to, please! Two ships can cover each other and are more than twice as effective as two single ships!

Han leaned close to the podium. And, everyone . . . watch out for the turbolasers on the Imp cruisers. They can blast you out of space with one shot. Keep your ships dodg-ing whenever youre in range of the bigger Imp vessels. Got that?

Yeah! the pilots shouted.

Mako resumed. Remembe r, fellow smuggle, that mixed in with these bigger Imp recon and skirmish ships will be dozens of TIE fighters. Theyre fast, real fast, and they have okay lasers, but theyre fragile. One good hit, and theyre blown to pieces. Theyre too fast for a lock-on, so youll have to shoot by eye. Take your time and lead your targets. Since most of your freighters have some weapon that can shoot behind you, use that one to keep the TIEs off you while you hit the picket ships. You with me? Yeah! the crowd yelled. Kfil those TIEs!

Okay, so this is still early in the battle. Were gonna hit

the recon pickets with what theyre going to think is every-thing weve got. With luck, well drive off a couple of these Imperial picket ships, kill some recon TIEs, maybe even disable one of the Carrack-class ships, though even Lando wouldnt bet on our chances to do that.

Mako paused for the general laugh this remark occa-sioned. Someone yelled at the young gambler, Hey, Lando, what odds are you giving?

Han took over again. Somewhere in liere the Imp com-mander will commit his lighter skirmish vessels, order them to increase to full speed and attack, cause hes thinking that hes seen all weve got, and now hes going in for the kill. Hell most likely hold the big cruisers back for now, saving them, planning to bring them in when he goes to strafe Nar Shaddaa. When the pickets, then the skirmish vessels, engage you, its critically important for everyone to stay in your assigned position! Heres where you get your chance to hit them hard from one side to overload a shield. Then you or your partner can score some damage and then both of you get out! Those of you with missiles or torpedoes can really hurt these light Customs corvettes.

Han gave his troops a long, serious look. Guys, by now itll be pretty confused up there; civilian ships caught up in thisll be trying to run, and all of our lighter stuff except the fighters will be mixing it up with the Imps. Dont lose track of whats going on! Stay in position! Stay focused! Be sure to keep someone on your ship listening to the corem for instructions, in case we have to move you off your assigned positions. You got that?

Yeah, we got it! came a few voices. Han put on a very shocked face and cupped his ear. Hey, am I gettin old and going deaf, or what? I asked if you guys got that? Yeah! We GOT it! they yelled, much more forcefully.

Thats better, Mako said, taking over again. Okay,

lets move on. Frankly, fellow sentients, were expecting

you to clean up on the Imp picket and skirmish ships; well

have the advantage of numbers and this is our home

ground. Were expecting to kill at least half of them, which

is gonna surprise the blazes out of that Imp Admiral. But

when he gets over being shocked and upset-and has

gained a little more respect for us--Mako paused dramatically, and the hall was filled with shouts of Oh, yeah! and Well teach him some respect!

We sure will! Han yelled, then stood back to let Mako continue.

Okay, but this Imp Admiral aint gonna stand there with his jaw dropped for very long, I hate to tell you. No, what hes gonna do is think, How DARE they? and hell send in his heavy Capital-class ships. We can expect at least two or three big bulk cruisers, with maybe a Dreadnaught or two to help. These big boys will have thicker shields and armor, and more and bigger guns. Frankly, fellow sentients, weve only got a handful of ships that are even capable of challenging em, let alone hurting them. A considerably sobered sfienee fell over their audience. Han had worried that at this point they might lose them, but nobody got up and left, much to his relief.

But, Mako said, heres the trick. If we can really hurt even one or two of those heavies, the Imps will almost certainly withdraw, since they wont be able to complete their job, and its standard Imperial doctrine to cut your losses and run if you cant win.

So how do we hurt them, Mako? yelled a human smuggler.

Good question. Weve worked out a strategy that we think will do the trick. Listen closely, guys. When those big guys come at us, well pretend to give way. Ill pass the word over the comm to fall back between Nar Shaddaa and Nal Hutta. But by Doellins halter, dont everyone turn in formation and zoom away the instant the Imp cruisers at-tack! No, weve got to make this look good, or the Imps11 get suspicious!

So what do we do? yelled one wag-a Bothan. Hang around and invite them over for a drink? Mako glared at his heckler. Get serious, clown. What were tellin you to do is to fall back, but do it like it was your own idea, not following orders. Turn tail and run like terror-stricken rabble, thats just fine. We want them to chase you. Got that?

Yeah! they yelled.

Hey, yelled the wag, we can fake bein scared, spe-cially if we are!

Laughter followed.

Okay, good, Mako said, right around heremhe used the pointer to indicate a point in space close to Nar Shad-daa, on a straight line between the moon and the planetwere going to have our own big ships waiting. And we have a little surprise for our Imperial friends. He turned and gestured into the wings of the stage. Xaverri, please step out here. Xaverri came out onto the stage, dressed in a pilots coverall. Her black hair was braided tightly to her head, and she wore little makeup. Han had suggested she wear her stage magicians costume for this part of the presenta-tion, but she had demurred. No, Han. If theyre going to trust me and what I can do, I want to seem like one of them.

Pilots and crews ... I want to introduce you to Xaverri. Shes the person whos going to win this battle for us. Some of you already know her. For those of you who dont know her, let me tell you that shes the best in the galaxy at what she does. What she does is make illusions. Xaverri? With a graceful wave of her hand, Xaverri suddenly made the lights in the auditorium flicker, then, without warning, the air was filled with Kayven whistlers. The trick was part of her act, but even Han, who was expecting it, had trouble not ducking when one of the vicious flying creatures swooped directly at his head.

The audience of smugglers yelled and ducked, then when Xaverri made the whistlers disappear with a second wave of her hand, they broke into spontaneous applause.

Mako led the crowd in clapping and stomping his feet in appreciation. Xaverri stood there, smiling serenely, but not taking a bow.

Shes good, guys, Mako said. And just for us, Xaverri is going to create her masterpiece. When weve got the big Imp ships here, wilere we want them-he pointed to the spot again-Xaverri is going to create the illusion that a really big fleet is coming at the Imps from the direction of Nal Hutta. Then, when the Imp ships turn to fire their forward guns at this phantom fleet, thats when well hit era in the flank and from the rear with everything weve got!

Cheering broke out from the crowd.

Han stepped forward when the noise died down. Just to let you know, Captain Renthal and her big ships will be waiting with Mako and the Main Strike Element. Captain Renthal---he turned and extended a hand to her where she sat in the front row, a big, squarish woman with pale skin and close-cropped red-and-gold-striped hair-please stand up.

The smugglers clapped for her, too, which was surpris-ing, because some of them had undoubtedly run afoul of Rentbal Fist or other ships in her pirate fleet.

Captain Renthal, your big ships will have to clear the path for your Y-wings, and our fighters and strike ships. Any of the smaller Imp cruisers between our force and the flanks of those Capital-class ships will be your target. Your heavy turbolasers and proton torpedoes must knock them out. We cant make a run on heavy cruisers if were having to dodge fire from too many directions at once, Mako said, for the benefit of the audience. He and Han had already gone over every part of the battle plan with Renthal many times.

Drea Renthal nodded. Ill do my part, she said, in a clear, strong alto. I was hired to keep the Imps from get-ting near Nal Hutta. After seeing your battle plan, I agree that this is the best way to accomplish that. She turned to face the smugglers. So you can count on me and my fleet to fight with you all the way!

More cheers. Renthal pumped her fist in the air, and the crowd went wild. Okay, Han continued when the noise had died down a bit, the fighters without missiles or torpedoes will serve as escorts. You guys have got to keep those TIEs off us while we make our run. The Corellian waved at the remainder of the smugglers. The rest of us will go in and target one or two of the heavy cruisers. When the time comes, Mako will give you your orders. Well have to get in as close as we can to their rear and then let them have it with a concen-trated volley right into the engines. Dont hold back, let them have every bit of firepower youve got!

Cheers broke out again from the crowd. Obviously, the realization that theyd have help from Xaverris illusion, and a well-armed pirate fleet, had lifted the smugglers spirits. Okay, fellow sentients, Mako said, one more thing. If what were tryin for here works, you clear out fast!

Those cruisers make a pretty big explosion. You dont want to get caught in it, right? Right! they roared.

And... Mako finished up, if this doesnt work . . . He shrugged. Well, well just have to keep trying. Its not like we can just give up and go away.

Tile crowd regarded him, alert but sobered by his final words.

Hah stepped back up to the podlure. Okay, he said. Thats the plan. Well go over it until youve got it down pat. Any questions?

To Hans amazement, over the next several days, Xaverri and Salla became the best of friends. He and Mako were busy staging repeated battle drills for their p ilots and crews on the Nar Shaddaa defense squadron, so he didnt have much time to hang out at Shugs spacebarn, but every time he did go there, he found Salla and Xaverri working to-gether on creating the illusionists masterpiece. Itll only be good for about a two-or three-minute dis-traction, Solo, Xaverri warned. Theyre going to see these ships swooping at them, real close, and theyre going to see data that corresponds to their visual sightings appear on their instrument panels. But I want these ships to appear close, so their reaction will be to turn all their vessels to bring their forward guns into play. That makes them vul-nerable to your flank attack.

Xaverri took a sip from a cup of stim-tea Han had brewed for Shug, Salla, Chexvie, Jarik, and the other techni-cian volunteers who were working on making Xaverris illu-sion a reality. But these ships are going to appear such a threat because theyre going to be close. Within a couple of minutes, when the Imps realize that none of them has been hit by the blasts theyre seeing emanate from those ships, theyll realize its a fake.

Hah nodded. A minute or three is all we can ask for, Xaverri. Well be really grateful for that diversion. Weve contacted the pirate captain the Hutts hired. Drea Renthal. Her flagship, Renthal Fist, is gonna be hiding behind Nar Shaddaa-that is, on the Nal Hutta side of the moon-along with the rest of her fleet. When those Capital-class ships come swinging around the moon, then turn to face your filusionary fleet, she and Mako are going to hit them hard.

Jarik Solo wiped tiredly at his dirty face with an even filthier hand. Hah, whats the strength of that mere fleet? Are they gonna be much help?

Hah nodded. Yeah, Jarik. Renthal Fist is a Corellian corvette. Shes heavily modified, and heavily armed. Even has proton torpedo launchers in the front. Only problem is, they dont have many torpedoes. Renthal cant afford to miss.

How many other ships? Xaverri wanted to know. Renthal also has a bulk freighter, Golden Dreams, thats been converted to carry fighters. SoroSuub medium transport. Big ship. Not much shielding, though. Shell launch her Z-95 Headhunters, then hang back, letting Renthal Fist carry the attack. Then theres the Too Late Now and the Minestra. Too Late Now is a captured Imp patrol craft. Renthal replaced one of the laser turrets with an ion cannon, so hopefully she can knock out some of those bulk cruisers. Minestra is a Rendili Stardrive light corvette. Nice ship, modified so she has concussion missiles and ion cannons to go with her laser turrets.

That sounds like a pretty good force to me, Xaverri said. Of course, I barely know the difference between an ion cannon and a concussion missile.

When I first started smuggling, I barely did, too, Salla said with a laugh. But when the Imp patrols start shooting at you with em, you find yourself getting rea] knowledge-able real fast. The two women smiled at each other. Han still couldnt get over how quickly theyd become friends. To tell the truth, he was a bit jealous. In many ways, Salla and Xaverri seemed closer to each other than either woman had ever been to him. He wondered whether theyd ever talked to each other about him. Compared notes, maybe?

The thought made his face redden. Jarik provided a wel-come distraction. Hey, Han. . . can I talk to you a min-ute?

Hah gulped tile last of his stim-tea and stood up. Sure, Jarik. Want to go into Shugs office so we can be out of the way?

Yeah, the youth said. If we try to talk here, someone

will run over us with an anti-grav lifter or something

The spacebarn was a hive of activity. Everywhere smug-glers were fixing up their ships, in some cases modifying them, trying to squeeze extra speed out of their engines, or adding an extra quad laser or missfie launcher.

Han and Jarik walked by Sallas Rimrunner, and waved

to Shug when he raised his face shield to wipe his sweating

face. Hah stopped to cup his hands around his mouth and

shouted up at the master mechanic. Looks good, Shug

You and Salla are sure gonna give those Imps a rude surprise

Whenever they werent working on helping Xaverri cre-ate her master illusion, Salla and Shug, with Rik Duels help, had been modifying Rimrunner, installing a pair of camouflaged concussion missile launchers in the stern. Sallas smuggling ship was a CorelliSpace Gymsnor-4-class light freighter and, like virtually every smuggling ship in the business, was heavily modified. The ship looked rather like a flying wing or if you wanted to be insulting and gain a punch in the nose from Salla-a mynock. Rimrunner was a fast, gile ship, and Salla was an excellent pilot. Han was counting heavily on her during the coming battle. He knew that Salla would be in a much better position to do serious damage to the Imperial ships than he would. The Br/a was a decent little ship, but nowhere near as fast as the Millennium Falcon or the Rimrunner. She was more lightly armed, too.

When Han and Jarik reached Shugs office, they had to clear several odds and ends of greasy equipment off the chairs before they could sit down. Once they were comfort-able, Hah sighed. Glad you wanted to have a talk, kid. This is the first time Ive sat down all day, seems like. Organizing this battle has kept me and Mako hopping.

Yeah, Ive been busy, too, Jarik said. When I wasnt busy helping the Lady Xaverri, Ive been helping Chewie with the Bria, or Shug with the Rimrunner.

Shug tells me youre gettin to be a pretty good me-chanic, Jarik, Han said. And youre becoming a decent pilot and gunner. Im going to be glad to have you flying with me as a gunner. Chewies good, but two gunners are more than twice as good as one.

Hah . . . thats . . . thats what I wanted to talk to you about. Jariks handsome young features were shad-owed. I . . . Ive never been in a battle before. He swal-lowed. Last night, I fell asleep while I was cleaning carbon scoring off the Bria, and I . . . I had this dream. Night-mare, really. Yeah? What about?

I dreamed we were fighting the Imperials, and---he swallowed-Han . . . we got blown up. I had a TIE in my sights, and I . . . I froze. I didnt shoot. And then I saw the streak of green from the laser blast coming straight at me, and there was nothing I could (b). I dreamed that I ... died. Jariks face worked. He shivered. Hah . . . Im scared. I dont know if Ive got what it takes. What if I mess up, and get us all killed, the way I did in my dream?

Jarik, Han said, if you werent scared, Id be worried about you. The first time I went into real combat, as a TIE pilot, I was so scared I nearly upchucked in my helmet. Fortunately, I was already strapped in my cockpit, in vac-uum, so I knew that if I did that, Id choke and die. So I managed to hold it back. Then someone shot at me, and without even thinkin about it, I found myself shootin back. The training just . . . took over.

Really? Jarik looked as though he didnt know whether to find Hans story reassuring or not. But, Han. . . ev-eryone says youre brave. Its the first thing they say about you---Hes got courage! Nobody ever told me I had cour-age. What if Im a coward? How can I risk letting you all down? Han gave the youth a long, measuring look. Jarik, youre facin something that we all have to face. Were not citizens here on Nar Shaddaa. We live outside the law, and thats dangerous, by definition. Cowards dont make it here on Nar Shaddaa. They get eaten alive.

Well, yeah, I can handle myself with a vibroblade or in a fistfight, Jarik allowed. But thats not the same thing as just being blown to atoms. Boom, and youre history.

Kid, Ive watched you, and I can only tell you that I think youve got what it takes. Yeah, people do freeze some-times in battle. But thats why Mako and I have been gettin everyone out in their ships for all these battle drills.

Han shrugged. We did the same thing when I was with the Imps. You drill and you drill, and the reason for that is that anyone can freeze when faced with rea] combat. Even combat vets. But if you know the drill cold, chances are that even if your brain freezes, your hands and body wont. Theyll go on autopilot, keep on doing what youve been drilled to do, even though your mind aint giving em in-structions for a few seconds.

But then, if youve drilled well, and know your stuff cold-and, kid, you know your stuff, Ive watched youthen your brain is gonna click back in. The fear will still be there, but youll be able to work past it, around it. It wont slow you down anymore. Youll just keep on doing what you gotta do. And youll be all right. Jarik wet his lips. But . . . what if I dont? Maybe you should get another gunner, Han. Id rather die than let you down.

If you want me to, I will, kid, Hah said. But Id rather have you. I know you, we work well together. Weve drilled together. But its your decision. Just let me know, okay? The youth nodded. Thanks. Ill . . . think . . . about it.

Han gave him a pat on the shoulder as he walked by.

Get some sleep, kid. Were all gettin a little worn down.

Jarik gave the Corellian a wan smile. Okay, Han.

Lando Calrissian hated getting dirty, but he was growing accustomed to it. Readying the Millennium Falcon for seri-ous combat was a grimy, greasy job, but somebody had to do it. Last week, Shug had helped him find and install a new gun turret on the Falcons starboard side, aft of the cockpit, just above the boarding ramp. But there was still a lot to do. Han, Chewie, and Salla would have helped him, he knew that, but they were tied up either helping Xaverri prepare her holo-illusion, or fixing up their own ships.

Lando gathered that Xaverri and Hah were a thing of the past. As he used a hydrospanner to tighten up the bolts on the new quad laser mou nting, the young gambler found himself thinking about Xaverri. She was certainly a very fine woman, intelligent, attractive, sharp dresser, good sense of humor all qualities Lando found irresistible. He wondered whether shed have any interest in taking up with him where she and the Corellian had left off. It was obvious that she liked rogues and scoundrels, or shed never have had a relationship with the Corellian.

Maybe I should try growing a mustache, Lando thought. Might give me a . . . rakish . . . air. The corners of the gamblers mouth curved upward. Perhaps Xaverri would be interested in traveling with him, when this was all over.

Lando was considering going back to the Oseon system. He had a couple of moneymaking schemes he wanted to try. And he needed to sharpen his already considerable sabacc skills. There was a big high-stakes sabacc champion-ship scheduled to be played on Bespins Cloud City in about six months. Lando very much wanted to play in that championship. But hed need to raise a considerable stake to qualify, and the easiest, quickest way to do that was to head back for the Oseon. Things were looser there . . .

And it would be very aeeable, Lando decided, to have a lovely lady traveling companion. Only problem was . . . was Xaverri still in love with Han? And how would Han feel about having his former girlfriend take up with his best buddy?

Well, Lando amended, his best human buddy. Hafts best friend was indubitably Chewbacca . . . Immersed in fantasies of himself and Xaverri wining and dining in the finest resorts of the Oseon system, Lando managed to whack the knuckles of his other hand with the hydrospanner. Cursing, he started to suck the injured dig-its, but his hand was so dirty, he desisted.

Master? Vuffi Raa said, emerging from beneath the Falcons belly. The little droid carried various tools in each of his five-armed, tentacle-digited limbs. Its single red eye stared up at Lando. Master, what happened?

Still wishing he could suck his injured kmuckle, Lando gritted, Vuffi Raa, how many times have I told you not to call me Master!

Five hundred and sixty-two times, Master, replied the little droid promptly. Lando snarled. I just whacked my knuckle, thats all, you little junkheap. Ill be all right. Lets get back to work. We have to have the Falcon spaceworthy by tonight. Makos calling for another drill. Very well, Vuffi Raa said.

Hey, Vuffi Raa? Lando called.

Already on his way back under the ship, the little droid paused. Yes, Master? Lando let the title slide this time. Are you sure youre going to be okay piloting the Falcon during this battle?

It will strain my circuitry, Master, because, as you know, I am programmed not to cause harm to livingespecially sentient beings. However, since you will be the one doing the shooting, I believe I can manage to fly. Just dont order me to ram another vessel. Then I will be unable to comply. I should hope not! Lando exclaimed. All right, little vacuum cleaner, back to work. Yes, Master.

Han and Mako had told almost no one the actual time that Greelanx was planning to attack. Some of the smuggler High Command knew that Han and Mako knew the tim-ing of the operation, but they accepted the two ex-Imperi-als decision that it would be better for most of the smugglers not to know. Lando, Shug, Salla, Rik Duel, Blue, and Jarik . . . all of them were aware that one of the times they went out on a drill, it would wind up being the real thing. The other smugglers did not know. Han and Mako had to be careful in drilling their troops. They didnt want the smugglers to get bored and lax, which might happen if they drilled too much. On the other hand, they knew that their smuggler squadron would need lots of practice. The key to having a fighting chance to defeat the Imperial fleet was for the smugglers to stick with the battle plan Mako and Han had devised. The smugglers of Nar Shaddaa were all rugged individu-alists, unused to doing anything as part of a large, orches-trated group. Its like tryin to herd vro-cats, Han told Xaverri wearily. They keep thinkin they know better, and they want to question every blasted decision we make. What a pain in the rear!

Yes, but the last time you called a formation drill, Xaverri pointed out, trying to encourage him, they got into position and made their runs in one-third of the time it took them to do it the first time. Yeah, Han agreed with a noticeable lack of enthusi-asm. He sighed. But its giving me gray hairs, honey. She grinned, and pretended to inspect his scalp. His hair was still very short from his visit to Admiral Greelanx. Nope, she announced, after a minute, I dont see any.

He grinned back at her tiredly. Well, I got gray hairs growin internally, then. She patted his hand. Dont worry, Solo. Well get through this.

I hope so, he said. And, Xaverri, honey?

Yes?

I want to thank you for comin tiere to help us. Without you, we wouldnt have a chance. She gave him a roguish smile. I wouldnt have missed it for anything. Just meeting Salla has made it all worth-while.

Yeah, I noticed that you two have gotten real chummy, Han said warily. So . . . what do you two talk about while youre laughin and workin together, anyhow?

She chuckled. You egotistical spacebum, Solo! You think were talking about ytnt, dont you? Han shook his head. Me? Of course not!

Oh, yes, you do! She laughed at his discomfiture. Ad-mit it, Solo!

Han steadfastly refused to admit it. But inwardly he was wondering when this was all over, if hed be able to take up with Salla where theyd left off. Hed seen Lando eyeing both Xaverri and Salla, and he knew Calrissian wouldnt hesitate to move in on her if he thought Salla was looking around. Did Salla really care about him? The way Xaverri and Bria had? He didnt know. They never talked about that kind of thing. They had fun, good times, and they worked well together. Any discussion of inner feelings or a future together had never come up, by, Hah suspected, mutual consent. How did he feel about Salla, anyway?

Han wasnt sure. Most of the time he was too busy to give the subject any consideration. He knew for a fact that he wasnt ready to do what Roa was doing . . .

As he was sitting there in Shugs spacebarn, Chewie came over to him and growled a reminder. Han looked up. Oh! The briefing? I lost track of time!

Quickly he and the Wookiee hastened back to The Chance Castle to the auditorium. Time for another run-through, so they could make sure each smuggler under-stood his, her, or its role in their strategy . . . Two hours later Han caught up with Shug Ninx as the smugglers filed out of the auditorium. The half-blood was walking with Salla Zend. When Han caught up with them, Salla grabbed Hans arm and squeezed it, then gave him a kiss on the cheek. You were great, she said. Youre al-ways great, Han. I swear, youre a natural leader. The Corellian grinned, a little abashed. Who, me? They walked out, and Shug said, Whens the next drill?

Dont know, Han lied. Mako will call this one. Is the Rimrunner ready? The holo-projectors in place? The traffic buoys ready?

Ready, Shug confirmed. I tell you, Han, when this is all over, if Im not dead, Im going to sleep for a week.

Salla punched her friends ann. Dont talk like that, its bad luck?

Did you find a rear gunner? Han asked.

Yeah, Rik volunteered to handle those rear missile launchers, Salla said. He says hes a good gunner. Hes right, Han said. But . . . dont leave him alone in your ship, loan him money, or give him the security access codes to anything you value, okay?

Salla grinned. Yeah, weve been warned about him.

Light-fingered even with his own kind, right?

Thats putting it mildly, Han said. Did I tell you weve got some good news? No, what? Mako had been planning to command the resistance from Renthals Fist. But a couple of days ago we realized wed got lucky. Guess who got so wrapped up in mother-hood that she forgot to send a pilot to bring her yacht back to Nal Hutta? And guess whose calls to her favorite pilots have somehow failed to go through, because comunica-tions between Nal Hutta and Nar Shaddaa are so over-loaded these days?

Salla began to grin. You mean the Dragon Pearl is still here?

Yeah. And unlike her nephew, Jabba, Jiliaes conscien-tious about keeping her combat-ready. Shes got six Head-hunters, and weve checked em out. All in prime working order. Weve got pilots for em, too. Plus a gunnery crew for Mako, and we talked Blue into piloting. Her ship is too slow to help us out much, but shes a good pilot, too good to be wasted. That way Mako can concentrate on his tacti-cal screens, keepin track of everything.

Shug whistled softly. That yacht will be a big help. Not too great on armor, but nice weaponry and good shields.

But if it gets shot up, Jiliac is going to have somebodys hide for a wall decoration . . . Salla mused. I guess we have to take the chance, though. We need every bit of firepower we have. Well, were keepin it quiet about who is actually gonna be aboard Dragon Pearl, Han said. And if Mako has to take a nice long vacation on Smugglers Run while Jiliac gets over it, he says hes prepared to do that. He grinned. Blue promised him shed make his stay . . . interesting. Shug shook his head, and Salla snorted. Ill just bet she will!

Clad in a pilots pressurized flight suit, Roa stood on the permacrete of the landing pad, looking down at the beauti-ful blond woman who stood before him, tears in her eyes. Take it easy, Lwyll, he said. Dont worry. Ill be careful.

Please . . . she said, clutching his forearms with her hands, please come back to me, Roa. Life wouldnt be worth much without you.

I promise Ill come back, the older smuggler vowed. The Lwyll is a good ship. Shell take care of me, just like you would. Thats why I named her that.

He leaned over and gave her a kiss. Besides, this is just another drill, honey. Youve come out here and kissed me good-bye eight times now, and Ive always been back within half an hour or so. This is just like that.

She nodded, but a tear broke loose and slid down her cheek. I love you, Roa. And I love you, Lwyll. Im coming back, honey. Im going to go straight. And were going to get married. Youll see. Itll be all right.

She nodded. Okay. Youd better go.

Right. Dont want to be late for the drillF

Grinning, Roa hoisted his stocky form up into the cock-pit of the LwyU, a modified Redthorn-class scoutship, fast and maneuverable, but lightly armed with only forward-firing triple lasers. The little ship looked like a needle-pointed cylinder, with a stubby delta wing. Almost as fast as a TIE fighter, the Lwyll possessed an overwhelming advan-tage in a dogfight-she had shields. Roa looked down at his bride-to-be, standing on the permacrete, waving to him, and he grinned down at her, then gave her a thumbs-up sign.

Then he checked his instruments, strapped himself in, and put on his helmet. In order to achieve maximum speed and power to his weaponry, hed elected to forgo diverting power to life support. Easing forward on the throttle, then activating the belly thrusters, he sent his little ship climbing, climbing, up and away. Glancing down, he tried to make out Lwylls bright head, but she was lost in the distance. Quickly Roa headed out for his assigned coordinates. He was one of the few pilots who was not assigned to fly with a partner. His assignment was to use the LwyUs fast speed to reconnoiter the movements of the Imperial fleet. He had a special channel that allowed him to report back to Mako. As the atmosphere thinned around him, and the sky changed from blue-gray.to cobalt, then to black, speckled with stars, Roa relaxed. Hed always loved to fly, and the LwyU was a joy to handle, quick and responsive.

Roa headed for his assigned coordinates, swooping past the limb of Nar Shaddaa, and reached them in only a few minutes flight time. As he approached his station, he antic-ipated hearing his headphones come to life with Makos message that hed heard so often before All ships, return to base. This was a drill. All ships return to base after com-pleting your drill . . .

Seconds later, as expected, the aging smuggler heard Makos voice Attention. Attention. All you spacebums, lis-ten up. This is it. The Imps have appeared on our sensors. This is it. This is not a drill. Repeat, not a drill. This is the real thing, kiddies. Prepare to engage the enemy. Roas eyes widened. Huh? Not a drill?

As Makos voice faded from his hearing, Roa stared, taut with fear, as the Imperial vessels popped out of hyper-space . . .

The first thing Admiral Winstel Greelanx saw when Impe-rial DeStiny emerged from its hyperspace microjump was a small scoutship turning tail and racing frantically away from him. The Admiral smiled dryly. I expect Ill see a lot of that today . . .

The thought depressed him. It was going to be very difficult to manage to lose to this disorganized rabble. How in the galaxy was he going to manage it?

Sir, the squadron has emerged from hyperspace, his second-in-command, Commander Jelon, informed him.

Habit took over, and Greelanx found himself issuing or-ders automatically. Order the squadron to deploy. Greelanx knew what was happening, and did not bother to watch. The seven Capital-class ships arranged them-selves into Greelanxs stipulated fighting wedge-with the Destiny as the point of the wedge. Then came two bulk cruisers, Arrestor and Liquidator, followed by the Peacekeeper and Pride of the Senate. The last two bulk cruisers, Enforcer and Inexorable, brought up the rear. The Dreadnaughts launched their TIE fighters, which moved to surround the wedge.

The two recon Carrack-class ships, Vigilance and Out-post, moved out in front of the squadron and launched their recon TIE fighters. The sixteen skirmish ships, Guardian-class Customs corvettes, were already in their shell-torus formation, ready to block any escape from the Smugglers Moon. It all happened quickly and smoothly, without a hitch. Greelanx had drilled his commanders well on every point of his battle plan.

Admiral, sir, the squadron has been deployed as or-dered, announced Jelon, scant minutes later. Very well. Order the .squadron to proceed as planned.

Yes, Admiral.

The squadron moved forward at the specified speeds, with the pickets advancing on Nar Shaddaa at flank speed, the skirmish line advancing at cruising speed, and the capi-tal ships advancing at flank speed. Greelanx stared through the viewport of the bridge, then checked the long-range scanners, seeing that the moon Nar Shaddaa was surrounded by hundreds, perhaps thousands, of pieces of debris. He wouldnt be able to take his Capital-class ships through that sargasso, especially if the smugglers put up any resistance. When they reached the moons vicin-ity, hed have to order them to alter their straight-on ap-proach to swing wide of the floating debris.

Greelanx stood with his hands behind him, seeing the minuscule dot on the tactical repeater display that repre-sented that tiny, panic-stricken vessel hed first seen. As the little scoutship approached the floating debris, two other small ships, freighters at a guess, joined it in its panicked flight. The admiral sighed. His battle plan called for tile entire engagement to be over in less than fifteen minutes. He had better get busy, figuring out how he was going to manage to lose . . . For the first minute or so, it was all Roa could do not to panic and flee into hyperspace. The sight of the Imperial squadron emerging from hyperspace had rattled him badly. Even though hed known, intellectually, that the Imperial squadron was going to contain dozens of ships, some of them so huge they dwarfed any ship hed ever flown, that hadnt prepared him for nearly flying right down their throats. Almost without knowing hed done it, Roa found himself turned around and heading back for Nar Shaddaa at top speed. He forced himself to take several deep breaths, and fought back the fear. The drill came back to him as the LwyU streaked along. Report in. I have to report contact. Im a scoutship, remember?

He activated his comm on the special coded frequency theyd rigged. Defender Central, this is LwyU. Come in, Central.

Makos voice in his helmet. We read you, LwyU. Have you spotted them? Affirmative, Central. Roa checked his sensors and rear tactical display. They are deployed, and advancing.

Good, thats what we want, remember. Just keep lead-ing them in. Cut your speed a little, if you can do it without giving yourself away, Roa. Im sending Elegant Interlude and Star Traveler out to help you lead at least one of those pickets to where we want it. I read you, Central. Roa slowed down a bit, making sure to do it gradually. He was startled at how quickly the Carrack-class vessels were approaching. Fast ships/ He was glad Mako had as-signed the two ships he had to help out. Both were speedy vessels, and Danith Jalay and Renna Strego were experi-enced captains. He took a deep breath. The fear was still there, deep down somewhere, but it no longer threatened his thinking processes.

Settling deep into his seat, Roa concentrated on the task at hand.

On the bridge of the Dragon Pearl, Mako Spince watched the sensors and tactical readouts, hardly daring to blink. The Pearl was too large to actually hide amid the floating hulks and debris, the way some of the smaller ves-sels could, but hed ordered Blue to position her so that the Carrack-class ships wouldnt spot her unti! they had the Imp vessels where they wanted them. Mako saw that one Carrack-class ship, the Outpost, had altered course to approach the other side of Nar Shaddaa, while the Vigilance continued toward the ambush. That made sense, since Greelanx couldnt know where the smug-glers would engage him. Once the smuggler attack began, the Outpost would probably just wait there, rather than engaging, ready to report on and possibly engage any smug-gler ships attempting to escape the Imperial attack.

The other Carrack-class, the one whose ship ID broad-cast identified her as the Vigilance, continued to move toward his position.

Almost there, Mako thougilt, wiping his sweating palms on his trousers. Almost . . . Falan Iniro was a Corellian, and his friends frequently told him he was hotheaded and impulsive. Iniro would counter this criticism by pointing out that his quickness to act was usually a virtue, often giving him tile jump on the sweetest deal, the finest cargo, the best sabaec hand. Now, aboard his modified YT-1210-class light freighter, the Take That!, Iniro chafed at the waiting. Blast it, he thougilt, what going on?

It was frustrating, having to hide here in the shadow of a wrecked freighter, grappled to its side by a magnetic claw. Iniro checked his instruments again, and this time, some-thing caught his attention. Something really big was moving toward them. Close, really close.

It has to be one of them, Iniro thought. He wished for a moment that hed installed new sensors, modern ones with better ID capability. Aloud he said to his gunner, a Rodian named Gadaf, Hey, Gadaf, I got something on the sensors. Get ready to shoot.

Okay, Captain, the Rodian said. Standing by. Some of the other smugglers had commented that they thought the Take That! was too lightly armed to go against an Imperial ship, but Falan Iniro was convinced that his piloting skills which were considerable-would more than make up for the fact that he had only a single laser, mounted in a turret on the top of the ship. I just wish... the Rodians voice reached him, sounding wistful.

You wish what?

T hat wed had time to calibrate the sights on this laser, boss. I keep having to compensate for it. Its firing consis-tently to the right.

Iniro was not sympathetic. Thats easy to compensate for, Gadaf. I score hits with that laser all the time. Yes, I know, boss, the Rodian said. I dont do too bad, either.

Huh . . . Irritated, Iniro fidgeted. When are we going w get our blasted orders? The something big-whatever it was-had moved al-most past the Take That! on Iniros sensors. Come on, come on! What are youIniros body went rigid as he heard a voice in his headphones. Mako Spinees voice, garbled by distance and in-tervening space debris, but still recognizable. First Strike Element, this is Defender Central. Prepare toIniro let out a whoop, and realized that he hadnt quite caught that last word. Engage, wasnt it? He was pretty sure.

For a moment he thought of keying his eomm and ask-ing, Say again, Central, but he didnt. The other guys would laugh at him, and hed get left behind as they at-tacked!

Lets go! he yelled, and disengaged his magnetic grap-ple.

Swooping out from behind the hunk of space junk, Iniro saw that there were two other ships with him. Only two? Where in the name of Xendors Minions were the others?

Iniro didnt have time to wonder, because almost imme-diately he found himself under attack. Some kind of TIE fighter.

A blast struck his forward shield. Iniro compensated, and felt the ship shudder as Gadaf shot at the TIE. Clean miss, too far to the left.

Overcompensated, the fiolll Iniro thought. He sent the Take That! into a sweeping turn, pouring on all the power he could. Get him, Gadaf! he yelled.

A red bolt streaked out, barely missed the twisting, turn-ing TIE.

Iniro swore, and gave chase. It wasnt easy, here in this junkyard of space debris. He was constantly having to flip his vessel up on her side, or resort to other, even more drastic maneuvers, to avoid crashing into something.

Clear shot... coming! yelled Iniro. Be... ready!

As he had promised, the next instant tile TIE fighter and the Take That/were in a straight line with nothing in be-tween them. Another red bolt tore through vacuum, and this time it impded the recon TIE fighter dead center!

For a moment the explosion flared out, yellow, then white, expanding, expanding . . . Then the TIE was gone, and there were only sparkles of blazing debris and ash drifting in vacuum . . . But before Iniro could celebrate his victory, his eye was caught by his tactical display. The something big was clos-ing on him! In a second it would be right on top of him!

Captain Iniro twisted frantically in his pilots seat, slap-ping his controls, trying desperately to evade, trying to see it. He caught just a glimpse out of the corner of his eye. Minions of Xencbr, its soFalan Iniro never had time to complete the thought. The Carrack-class light cruisers heavy turbolasers engulfed the little freighter in a wash of green fire, utterly obliterat-ing the Take That/ in less time than it takes for a human eyeblink.

Ten seconds later not even spacedust remained,

Within seconds of following Falan Iniros Take That/out of hiding, Niev Jaub knew that hed made a terrible mis-take. The little Sullustan was flying his small light freighter (modified, of course), the Bnef NUe, and when hed seen tile Take That/ blast out of hiding, hed assumed hed missed Makos order, and followed the other vessel. The moment he was out in tile open, Jaub noted that only one other ship was with them. Theyd obviously jumped the gun and the attack hadnt started yet. For a moment Jaub considered trying to swoop back and hide again, but it was too late. A green blast from a TIE fighter nearly singed his whiskers. Jaub sent his small freighter (which rather resembled one of the shelled rep-tiles of his homeworld) skittering to his right in an evasive maneuver. Unlike most of the defenders of Nar Shaddaa, Jaub was an honest trader, who happened to do business on the Smugglers Moon, delivering exotie foodstuffs to the once-elegant hotel-easinos. There was a sizable Sullustan enclave on Nar Shaddaa, and the little sentient had kin and friends living there. So, when Makos call for help had gone out, Jaub had fgured it was his responsibility to respond. He couldnt let his friends and family be injured, and not try to help them!

Now what? he wondered, firing at a TIE fighter. I cant

compete with these pilots/Ive never even fired my weapons

befire, except in target practice/

But there was no turning back now. The Carrack-class light cruiser had entered the fray. Jaubs already huge eyes went even wider as he saw tile Take That/ impaled in a green burst of turbolaser fire. Sickened, he watched as the Corellians ship was vaporized.

If Jaub had thought he could outrun any of these ships, he might have tried. But he knew better. All he could try to do, he figured, was to stay alive and maybe get in a lucky shot. Mako was bound to order the real attack any second IIOW!

Jaub zigged again as a TIE roared by him, seemingly out of nowhere. The evasive maneuver brought him within range of the Carrick-class ships turbolasers. The Sullustan pilot squeaked in utter terror as the barest edge of green licked past his vessel.

Im all right, he didnt hit me, he didnt hit me, he didnt . . oh, gods . . . he hit me . . . the Sullustan thought. His power indicators were dropping. That blast had barely brushed him, but it must have wiped out his stern shields and disabled his engines. The Bnef Nlle was stfil hurtling along, still in the grip of inertia, but his engines were dead.

Jaub tested his maneuvering thrusters and realized they still functioned. He couldnt brake, or speed up, but he could turn his vessel.

He looked around, saw that two TIEs were bearing down on him from the rear. In seconds, theyd catch him and blast him into atoms.

The Carrack-class ship was obviously content not to have to waste its heavy turbolasers on the likes of one small, crippled freighter The big Imperial ship was sailing se-renely along, parallel to and a little behind Jaubs flight path.

Seconds . . . Ive got only seconds. Make them count, Jaub thought. He didnt think of himself as particularly brave, but Sullustans were known to be a practical species. Jaub sent his ship rolling over, using his maneuvering thrusters hard, deliberately sending the BnefNUe into an uncontrollable spin. Stars and space debris revolved in his viewport, making his stomach flip over. Bnef nile, everyone! he screamed as he hurtled toward the flank of the Carrack-class ship. Bnef nile meant good luck in Sullustan.

At first Jaub thought he wasnt going to make it, that the Carrack-dass vessel was going too fast but then he had one final second to realize that he was, indeed, going to impact against the big vessels port shields. Joy filled him, and then there was nothing but fire . . .

Blasted, stupid fools! Why didnt they wait for my or-der? Mako shouted as he stared into his tactical screen. Why did they jump the gun?

Maybe theyd misunderstood him. Mako had said, Pre-pare to evade, and just as he finished speaking, those three impetuous freighters went streaking out of cover. Mako had stared at the screen, cursing steadily in many lan-guages, as he watched two of the errant ships get blown up. At least that second guy, whoever he was, had made his exit count for something. And even the fool that had started the whole mess had nailed a recon TIE.

Now the third vessel was streaking back toward him, with a TIE fighter in hot pursuit. Great! Mako yelled. Just lead em right to where were hiding! If you live through this, Im gonna personally hunt you down and strangle you!

Mako, hes gonna buy it if we dont do something, Blue said tensely.

I oughta let the fool pay for his mistake, Mako growled, but a last check on his tactical screens convinced him that the Carrack-class vessel was far enough into the debris to be unable to turn quickly and get out of range. Close enough, Mako thought.

All right, he said to Blue and the gunnery crew, lets go save his worthless hide!

Snapping on his comm, Mako said, All right, com-mence attack! First Strike Element, attack now, boys and girls! Get those TIEs, and Ill move in on that Carrack-class. Be prepared to back me up! Were gonna nail that sucker!

Blue was taking the Dragon Pearl out of hiding now, and

the racing freighter saw them and swung toward them, like

a child running to hide behind mamas skirts. Blue gave a tense order to the gunnery crew, and the Hurt yachts six powerful turbolasers sent green blasts of destruction to im-pale the TIE fighter. The TIE blew up spectacularly. Waste of power, Mako grunted. Stupid ships dont even have shields. The Pearl was now moving toward the Carrack-class ship, which was only then realizing it was being challenged. Blue, launch those Headhunters! Mako yelled.

Already did it two minutes ago! she shouted back.

Quit tellin me my job!

The Vigilance swung toward the yacht, and the two ves-sels engaged. The Carrack-class, of course, had the advantage in the fight. It was armored much more heavily than file yacht, had better shielding, and more weaponry. It was also faster, but not by much. However, Makos crew had two major advantages over the Vigilance. Blue was used to maneuvering through Nar Shaddaas debris, while the Carrack-class vessels pilot was not. The Hutt yacht was also smaller, thus far more agile.

Blue pressed that advantage for all she was worth, dart-ing in to shoot, then straining every rivet in the big ship to evade the returning fire.

After being flung to the deck when the artificial gravity shorted out for a second from a hit, Mako got smart and strapped himself into his seat. He saw bursts of color re-flected against the viewport from laser fire and turbolaser fire refl ecting off shields, but he couldnt see the Vigilance from his command center. He had been worried that Vigilance might be one of the new, refitted models that were equipped with tractor beams, but apparently it was not.

The Hutt yacht shuddered with the blasts, over and over. Were losing the starboard shielding, Blue said tersely. Another hit there, and-WHAM!

The Pearl lurched horribly, like a wounded animal dragged down by a predators claws. Blue swore. Fire! Hit era again!

Jillacs yacht shuddered as the turbolasers fired again, filen again. Mako was dying to get up and see for himself what was happening, but the ship was pitching so violently that it would have been dangerous. All he needed was a broken arm-or neck. WHAM-WHAM!

Blast, Blue said. Weve lost three turbolaser mounts.

WHAM!

Make that four.

Blue, what in blazes is going on? Mako yelled over the next volley. Are we hurtin them at all? Yeah, she grunted. Were hurtin em. Fire, boys!

Again!

Unable to stand the suspense any longer, Mako un-snapped his harness and staggered across the heaving deck to see what was going on.

His port shields are weakening, Blue told him. Our starboard shields are gone. She maneuvered the Hutt yacht so the relatively intact bow shielding was pointing toward the Vigilance. Engines are sluggish, Mako said, feeling the ship strain to move.

Tell me about it, Blue snapped.

The Pearl fired again, then again, and thenMako let out a whoop of glee as he saw, instead of the splash of turbolaser fire against a Shield, a big charred mark appear on the Carrack-class ships armored hide. His port shields are down!

So are our starboard ones, Blue shaded.

But, baby, weve got him now! Disengage!

Mako raced back to his comm center. All right, listen up! Too Late Now! Minestra! Defense Central calling. Come in, over!

Mako was addressing two of the merc vessels that he knew had been assigned to these coordinates. Too Late Now was a captured and modified Imperial patrol craft, and Minestra was a captured Imperial light corvette. Both vessels now sported the blazing claw insignia that marked them as pirates. Minestra, we read you, Mako, said a voice.

Too Late Now, likewise.

Listen up, guys, good news! We just took down Vigi-lances port shields!

Were already moving in to finish him off, said the voice of Minestras captain. Mako, we saw the pounding you took. Youd better get out of here before more Imps show up. Were only too happy to, Blue said, and with painful slowness, the Dragon Pearl limped away. Mako glanced at her diagnostic sensors, and cursed. No starboard shields, sublight engines crippled, hull damage, and were leakin some atmosphere. Jiliacs gonna be right irritated bout this . . . The two pirate ships had arrived by now, and they and the freighters were ganging up on the injured Vigilance, drawing in like scavengers toward a staggering prey. Mako saw the Carrick-class ship take hit after hit, until finally the armor couldnt take any more, and a huge hole was blasted in her port side. The smugglers targeted her engines, then her bridge, and within minutes, she was drifting helpless in space. Lifepods launched from the Carrack as some of the crew began abandoning ship. Mako grinned. You did good, guys! Okay, my ships out of it, at least until we do some damage control, so Im heading for Illusion Point almad of schedule. You guys stick it out. Those skirmish ships should be arrivin any minute!

Admiral Greelanx stared at Commander Jelon, taken aback by his subordinates report. You say that the Vigi-lance is out of the battle? Captain Eldon is dead? Yes, Admiral. I regret to say it, sir. What about his TIEs?

All destroyed, sir.

Greelanx was too disciplined to swear aloud, but he did so mentally. Order the skirmish ships to full speed. Order two squadrons of TIEs to accompany them. Instruct them to engage the enemy at will. Yes, sir!

For a moment Greelanx considered bringing the other Carrack-class, the ttpost, into combat, but he decided against it. The Outpost might be needed for mopping up, later. He didnt want to risk his only remaining recon ves-sel.

Well shaw these wretched criminals, Greelanx thought angrily, completely forgetting, for the moment, that he was supposed to lose this battle . . .

Captain Soontir Fel stared at Admiral Greelanxs tiny holo-figure as it seemingly stood perched atop the Pride of the Senates comm board, feeling as though someone had punched him in the stomach. Eldon is dead? Greelanx nodded shortly. Unfortunately, yes.

I see, sir. Permission to speak, Admiral?

Go ahead. Greelanx was anything but welcoming. Perhaps we should take these smugglers a bit more . . seriously . . . sir? They apparently are capable of mounting a coordinated attack, as opposed to simply shoot-ing at random.

Your comment is noted, Fel. Greelanx out.

The tiny holo-figure popped out of existence.

Soontir Fel stood for a moment, head bowed. Captain Darv Eldon had been one of his classmates in the Acad-emy. They had been close friends for nearly ten years. His death was like a vibroblade wound. Fel swallowed, then straightened his shoulders. He would have time to grieve later. Right now, it was his duty to kill as many of these smugglers as he could . . .

At first, Han Solo found it very strange to shoot at TIE fighters, rather than fly them. As soon as Mako had ordered in the First Strike Element, Han, with Chewie and Jarik in the Br/as wing-mounted gun turrets, had gone after and engaged several TIEs. Hed nailed two, so far, and was cruising through the debris, looking around for more.

The Bria had one weakened rear shield, which put her engines in possible jeopardy should she take another big hit there, but was otherwise undamaged, due largely to Hans flying expertise. Han was one of the few smugglers who was flying with-out a partner. Mako wanted him free to keep watch over the fleet, to go where he was needed without encum-brances. Han recognized that Makos decision was a testa-ment to his own flying skill and was pleased.

Han glanced over at the left gun turret on the Br/as wing, and saw Jarik in the movable seat, headset in place. So far, the kid hadnt done well. Hed been overeager, ner-vous, and had managed to miss everything hed aimed at. Han was beginning to think he shouldnt have encouraged him to come along for the ride.

Chewbacca had done considerably better, hitting one TIE fighter and sending it wheeling away. Seconds later it had crashed into a large piece of debris and exploded.

Hah himself had gotten another TIE with his bow-mounted twin lasers. MaYos voice came over his headphones Listen up! Those skirmish ships are arrivin and engaging at will!

Ev-eryone stay sharp!

Han had just decided to go hunting for one of the skir-mish ships, when suddenly a TIE fighter swooped toward them, lasers blasting.

Chewie, Jarik! Hah yelled. Look sharp! Automati-cally he evaded the blasts, and triggered a shot with his bow guns.

A clean miss. Han swore.

Another TIE was swooping toward them, eager to catch the Bria in a crossfire Han snapped off a shot at it as he sent his ship swooping away, and saw the TIE wobble. Hed hit it!

The other TIE came in again, and this time Chewbacca was right there, firing, firingA sudden Wookiee howl of rage and frustration echoed in Hans headphones. HeS been hit/ was Hans first illought, and his breath caught in his diest, but when he looked to his right, he saw Chewie bouncing up and down in his movable seat, roaring, cursing, and waving his long, hairy arms, obviously furious-but unhurt.

Whats got into him? Han wondered, then he looked again, and saw what had happened. The Brias gun-control yoke, wires dangling, was clutched in Chewies paw-hands. In his enthusiasm to nail the TIE, Chewbacca had forgotten to ration his great Wookiee strength; hed ripped the control yoke clean out of the gun mount!

Now it was Hans turn to swear. Chewie, you big furry oatq. look what you did!

Chewbacca snarled in Hans headphones that he was only too aware of what hed done. Hah had never heard his hairy friend use language like that before.

Whump! A shot from the TIE had impacted on the Brias amidships shield. Hey, Solo! Concentrate on your flying, or youre gonna be dead! Han shook his head, realizing that from now on, hed have to consider his right side as crippled, and shield it as best he could. He spoke into his headset. Jarik, listen up, kid! Chewie broke off the blasted gun yoke in the right turret!

Its .all up to you to nail these TIEs!

Jariks voice was faint and shaky. Mmmm . . . me?

Yeah, you! Now look sharp! Hes comin in again!

Jarik crouched in his movable seat in the left gun turret, frozen with terror. My worst nightmare come true! Im go-ing to kill us all!

He forced himself to straighten up and swiveled, looking for the TIE. The targeting grid hung before him. Would he be able to zero in on anything? He didnt know. Hed failed miserably, so far. Where is it, where isSuddenly he saw it. There it was, coming in a 1ooping path from overhead that would allow it to flip over and then get off a shot at the Brias bow.

I cant do it . . . what if I cant do it? Jariks mind screamed, but somehow his hands were moving, and then his body was following suit as he swiveled in his seat. There was the targeting grid, there was the TIE and suddenlythe two images were one.

Without conscious volition, Jariks thumb squeezed the firing trigger. A red beam shot out, catching the TIE in the middle of its small body. In magnificent silence, the TIE blew up.

Jarik sat there, staring in shock. Did I do that?

Hans voice in his ears. Great shootin, kid! Lets go do it again!

Did I do that? I did! I did it/I can do it/

Jarik Solo grinned, felt a wave of satisfaction and pride. Okay , Hah!

Jarik checked the charges on his gun, then, as the Bria swooped off, began searching their surroundings for more targets . . .

Aboard the Rimrmner, Salla Zend checked her position, then glanced quickly out of her viewport to make sure her flying partner was in correct position. Because the Rimrun-ner equaled the MiUennium Falcon in speed, shed been paired with Lando and his odd little droid pilot. Salla had to hand it to Vuffi Raa. Shes never before heard of a droid that could pilot, but she gathered that Vuffl Raa was some special type of droid, from some com-pletely different part of the galaxy. Obviously not your ev-eryday astromech. From the moment theyd deployed, Vuffi Raa not only had kept formation with her, the droid had occasionally outflown her!

She spoke into her headset. Any of those skirmish ships on your sensors, Vuffi? Nothing so far, Lady Salla, the little droid replied.

And my name is Vuffi Raa, please.

No problem, Vuffi Raa, she replied. So what does that name mean, anyhow? In the language of those who programmed me, it is a number, Lady Salla. Huh. Salla was doing a visual inspection as she flew through the debris. No skirmish vessels so far, but her sen-sors showed a large group of vessels moving through the cloud of debris surrounding Nar Shaddaa. It was only a matter of time. Lando, stay sharp with your guns. I see Imp slugs everywhere. Right, Salla, Lando said.

Rik, Shug? We could have incoming any second. You guys ready?

Ready, Salla, Shug replied.

We are ready, pretty lady, Rik Duel said, in a manner that he fondly imagined to be charming. Salla grimaced and rolled her eyes. Can it, Rik. Stay sharp. This is no time to get cute. Hey, Salla, I cant help it if Ive got eyes! Rik said, in mock4njured tones. That jerk Solo doesnt appreciate you, you know. You deserve better than that Corellian creep. You are one fine woman, and heStow the chatter, Rik, Salla snapped, tiring of the ban-ter. And rein in your hormones. Your routine is getting real old.

But, Salla-he protested, sounding very, very injured, I fell for you the moment I-Lady Salla! Vuffi Raa broke in. Incoming!

Salla checked her sensors and ship ID codes. An Impe-rial Customs Guardian-class light cruiser, the Lianna Guard! She altered her flight path to challenge the new-comer head-on, and was impressed to see how quickly Vuffi Raa followed her lead.

Seconds later the Lianna Guard came zipping toward them, firing its laser cannons. Salla took a minor hit, but the shields deflected it. The Imp vessel was fast, and as maneu-verable as the freighters-matter of fact, the ship was a Customs patrol ship, designed to stop smugglers cold. Shug took a shot with his quad lasers, but scored a clean miss as the Imp pilot evaded. Hes really good!

Salla thought. But well get him. Hes outnumbered.

Shed been so occupied with engaging the Lianna Guard that Salla failed to notice three slug blips on her sensors,,all coming in incredibly fist. Vuffi Raa squeaked, Lady Salla! TIE fighters!

Salla took a hit in her bow, but the shields handled it. Shug was shooting steadily now, and so was Lando. One TIE was hit, and promptly exploded. Salla couldnt tell who had made the kill. Evasive! Salla flipped Rimrunner up on her side, but took a hit anyway. Her shields took the brunt of it, but the freighter shuddered violently.

Get those TIEs! she yelled.

Im trying! came both Landos and Shugs voices at the same time.

Salla swore grimly. Wheres the Lianna Guard? Shed lost track of the Guardian-class ship in the melee. BAM!

Rimrunner shuddered again. Salla struggled to hold her bucking ship, narrowly missed crashing into a huge piece of space debris. Theyd been hit in the flank, and her shields were weakened back there. From the strength of the blast, it must have been the patrol ship, not a TIE. AWriiiiight! Lando shouted in her headset, and she saw another TIE wiped out. Two to two. Much better odds!

Okay, now... where was the Lianna Guard? On Landos tail? No! Coming up directly behind her! Lando said urgently, Evasive, Safla!

Not on your life! she bellowed. This is what Ive been waiting for! Rik, blast your worthless hide, get him!

Captain Lodrel of the Imperial ship Lianna Guard smtied grimly as his ship streaked toward the mynock-shaped freighters stern. Ive got you! he thought smugly, and opened his mouth to give the order to destroy the helpless vessel.

But before he could speak, Lodrel noticed something strange about the rear of the CorelliSpace ship. Two cam-ouflaged gun ports had just slid open in the ships stern! Instead of shouting Fire! Lodrel screamed, Evasive! But two concussion missties were already streaking toward him. Hey! Thats not fair!

Lodrel thought indig-nantly.

It was his last thought . . .

Yahooooooo! shouted Salla as she saw the patrol ship blown to atoms on her rear sensors. We got him!

Sweet shooting, Rik!

Does that mean youll kiss me when we get back to base? he demanded in her headset. Not a chance, Salla said cheerfully. But Ill buy you a drink?

Congratulations, Lady Salla, Vuffi Raa said, in his prissy, overly refined tones. Great going, Salla! Lando shouted. In all the excite-ment, I totally forgot about those misstie launchers. Shug, you are the best!

Yeah, Shug, we all owe you, Salla agreed.

That was fun, Shug said, chuckling. Want to do it again?

Sure! Salla and Lando chornsed.

Mako Spince heaved a sigh of relief when the crippled Dragon Pearl managed to reach Illusion Point, and the rel-ative protection offered by the bigger ships in Drea Renthals mercenary fleet. He checked his sensors, all the while listening to hks ships report in.

The smugglers were doing well against the Imp skirmish vessels. They were taking losses, though, ships they couldnt afford to lose. Mako frowned as he checked ship after ship. Im losing a lot of friends today, he thought sadly. Too many good ships and people gone . . .

He ran a status check. Almost twenty-five percent of his smuggler vessels . . . gone. Even if they won this battle, the smuggling operations out of Nar Shaddaa were going to be affected for a long, long time. But the Imps had probably lost half their TIE fighters, and nearly fifty percent of their skirmish ships. The big question is, Mako thought, when is Greelanx gonna reave in with his capital ships? The big ships were approaching steadily, but were still out of range.

Mako glanced nervously at his sensors, saw two skirmish vessels converge on a smuggler ship. Oh, no!

A panicked voice erupted in Makos headset. Defender

Central! Can you get me some help? Im crippled, andThe voice scaled up into an agonized scream, and abruptly stopped. Mako watched as the blip on his sensors W/nked out. He cursed softly, helplessly.

Commander Jelon, Admiral Greelanx said, order the remainder of the TIEs to deploy and engage at will. Yes, sir.

The big Imperial ships were now within five hundred kilometers of the Nar Shaddaa debris shell. Greelanx took a sip of stim-tea, then checked their sensors again. He could see the remaining twelve TIE fighters streaking toward the battle.

Commander, instruct the capital wedge to assume an external-approach orbital pass. Were going to avoid that debris.

Yes, sir.

And order the wedge to accelerate to full speed. We are starting our attack. Yes, sir!

Greelanx checked the status of his squadron again. He was impressed by the smugglers tenacity. Hed expected them to break and run before now. But they were still fighting, and doing significant damage to his skirmish ves-sels.

Still, losing wasnt going to be easy. The smugglers were fighting bravely, granted, but those little freighters were no match for his capital ships. Greelanx sighed. It was possible that hed have to order one of his ships to do something that would be guaranteed to cause its destruction. The admiral swallowed another sip of tea, feeling as though a fist were closing around his throat. Hed sent troops to their deaths before, many times, but never on purpose. He wasnt sure he could do it . . . But what choice did he have?

Theyre making their move! Accelerating to attack speed! Mako realized as he stared into his sensors. He keyed his comm to a special, private frequency. Han, Mako here. You read me? Yeah, Mako, came the voice of his friend, garbled but understandable. I read you. Whats happening? Greelanx is starting his move with his capital ships. Im going to order the retreat. Do me a favor, pal? Sure.

You and Chewie play rear guard during the retreat. Hang back and ride herd on those spacebums, okay? Keep em on track, Han. Dont let em go too slow, but keep on their tails about goin too fast. We want those Imps follow-ing right on their heels.

Will do, Han said. Howre we doing?

Overall, not bad. But weve lost some friends.

I, know. Ive seen wreckage, Han agreed, sounding bleak.

Mako out.

Mako keyed in another special frequency. Captain Renthal?

Renthal here.

Im going to order the retreat now. Be ready.

We are ready. Ill recall Minestra.

What about Too Late Now?

Shes gone.

Oh . . .

Renthal out.

Mako keyed his general frequency. Boys and girls, this is Defender Central. You done good, fellow spacebums. Now its time to leave the party. All vessels, retreat along assigned vector. Remember your drills. Repeat, you are to retreat along your assigned vector, starting now. Defender Central out. Xaverri stood in a cordoned-off section in Shug Ninxs spacebarn, intent on the tactical display she was receiving, transmitted by Dragon Pearl. She watched as the smugglers turned tail and raced away from the oncoming Imperial capital ships and remaining skirmish vessels. Her friends were fleeing in what seemed to be a panicked rout, but was, in actuality, a carefull y coordinated and rehearsed with-drawal under fire. Mako and Hah had drilled and drilled them in just how far they should stay ahead of the Imperial vessels-tantalizingly within weapons range, so the strag-glers would have to take evasive maneuvers to avoid being blasted if the Imperials got lucky.

The magician licked her lips in anticipation, thinking that this was her big chance, the chance to wipe out more Imps at one time than shed probably ever get again.

Thats right, she thought, watching the wedge move closer and closer to the Illusion Point coordinates. Thats right, come abmg, chase them, yes, chase them right into the trap . . . Poised like a hunting Togorian, she stared fiercely into the tactical display until her eyes burned and she was forced to blink.

When her vision cleared, there they were! The entire capital wedge was right in the middle of the IP

coordinates!

Xaverri grinned, a predatory smile that had nothing pleasant about it. She activated her comm, spoke on a spe-cial frequency. Mako, Xaverri here.

This is Mako. Xaverri, I read you.

Activating illusion . . . now, she said, and broke con-tact. Then, slowly, deliberately, she pressed the big red button on her console, the one marked, DONT TOUCH UNLESS YOURE XAVERRI!

Now you die, she whispered.

Imperial Destiny rounded the limb of Nar Shaddaa, swinging wide as ordered, in order to avoid the floating debris surrounding the Smugglers Moon. As it did so, Ad-miral Greelanx could finally see Nal Hutta, large even at a distance of over 123,000 kilometers. His flagship was lead-ing the dlarge against the fleeing smugglers, his capitd ships moving in perfect formation, with his remaining TIE fighters and skirmish ships flanking the wedge.

Greelanx stood on his bridge, watching them close on their prey, seeing the red and green trails of Imperial lasers and turbolasers blasting at the motley assortment of freighters, wondering once again how he was going to man-age to stage a realistic defeat and retreat.

The smugglers had fought hard, Greelanx had to admit that, but the sight of his big ships had obviously terrified them, frightened them so badly that any fighting spirit theyd had was gone. Now they were running like Corellian vrelts before a pack of canoids. Admiral Greelanx, sir! the sensor operator spoke up urgently. Sir, Im getting something, but where did itWeve got incoming, sir!

Greelanx took a quick glance at the sensors, then turned to look out the viewport. His eyes widened. Coming straight at them from the direction of Nal Hutta

were hundreds of smuggler ships of assorted sizes-including several Corellian corvettes! Mercenaries, Greelanx thought. The smugglers dont have anything that large.t

Where did they come from? Jelon demanded of the sensor operator. Why werent you tracking them? Sir, they mustve just launched from Nal Hutta! Sir, I was concentrating on tracking the smuggler fleet, as or-dered, Commander!

Greelanx frowned. His instincts, honed after decades in the Imperial Navy, made him wonder if this could be some kind of a trick.

Full sensor scan! he snapped.

Yes, sir!

Moments later the sensor operator displayed the results of his check. Greelanx studied it. The Hutts must have held these mercenaries in reserve, then launched them in desper-ation, he decided. Greelanx cleared his throat. Commander Jelon, instruct the wedge and our fighters to execute a one-hundred-and-ten-degree turn, Y axis, and engage the newcomers. When they have completed their maneuver, they may fire at will!

Mako Spince let out a yell of triumph as he watched the phantom fleet appear, and saw the Imperial ships begin their turn. Yes! Theyre fallin for it! He keyed his comm. Captain Renthal!

I see it, she said tersely. I didnt believe it would work until now, but I gotta admit . . . Im attacking, full speed!

Go get era!

As Mako had requested, Han Solo had stayed back be-hind the other smugglers, as they wove their way out of tile debris during the retreat. Once past the limb of Nar Shad-daa, Hah had ordered them to swing wide, and get out of the debris. That way Greelanx would have a clear view of the fleeing smugglers, and would continue his pursuit, straight into their trap.

When Han finally emerged from the shell of debris, he found himself actually trailing the Imperial fleet. He could see them ahead of him, and considered trying to loop around them at top speed, so he could take part in the attack that was planned at the IP coordinates.

Ahead of him, he spotted a pair of vessels on his sensors, and was surprised when he checked their vessel IDs and found that the wayward pair was Salla and Lando in Rimrmner and the Falcon. Han wondered if one of them had taken a bad hit and needed help. Activating his corem, he said, Defender Central, this is Han. Come in, Mako.

Makos voice was clearer, now that Han was out of the debris field. Mako here, Han. The Imps have almost reached the IP point.

Ive got Salla and Lando on my sensors, and were all behind the Imp fleet, Mako. Yeah, I asked em to take it easy, figuring you might need some help if you ran into any stray skirmish vessels, Mako said.

Okay, so theyre all right?

Far as I know.

Patch me through to them, will you?

Sure.

In order to keep the frequencies as clear as possible, all communications had been routed through Mako, except for designated pairs like Lando and Salla. Moments later Han heard Landos voice. Han, old buddy!

Lando, Im behind you, wondering how to get past the Imp fleet so I can get back into the action. Salla and I were just wondering the same thing. I dont want to miss out on the chance to score some more hits on those Imp skirmish ships. Salla and I got quite a few of them, Lando said proudly. Three Guardian-class light cruisers, Salla interjected.

Hey, congratulations!

Master. Vuffi Raas precise tones were unmistakable. Would you like me to swing us around so we can fly back to the action with Captain Solo?

Yeah, Vuffi Raa, why dont you do that? Oh, and . . . dont call me master. Yes, Master. Han was now close enough to his friends that he could see them in the distance as they peeled off and swooped back to join him. Han chuckled. Where in the galaxy did you pick up that droid, Lando? Long story. Moments later the three vessels were flying together. Han was fiercely glad to find out his friends were okay. It felt good, all of them flying together, united against the Imperials. Hah keyed his comm again. So, guys, how are we gonna get past the fleet, back to the IP? Suddenly Chewie, who had abandoned his useless gun turret and come up to serve as copilot and to man the Brias bow guns, growled urgently and gestured at the sen-sors.

Hall looked, and saw the wedge of pursuing capita] ships slow, then begin to execute a ponderous turn, all the while remaining in perfect formation.

Go, Xaverri! he shouted, then he keyed his comm.

Hey, Lando, Sallal Check your forward sensorsY

The Imperial ships were just out of visual range by now. Han found himself wishing fiercely that he could catch up to them, do some more damage.

They can see it! Lando said. Why cant we? Because were behind it, Han said. It all has to do with the angle of the light rays. Complicated, but trust inc. The Imps are seeing a big fleet comin straight at them!

The Imperial fleet continued to execute their turn. I hate being stuck back here, out of the action/Han thought.

Suddenly, seeing the direction in which the fleet was turning, Hah had an idea. He keyed his comm. Lando, Salla! Were close enough to the wedge to be able to do a two-second hyperspace microjump right into the middle of the illusion. If we alter our approach vector slightly just before the jump, well wind up on the right approach path to come roaring in with those phantoms, firin! Lets give Xaverris fleet some real teeth!

Hah! Salla protested. Were right in the middle of a gravity well, in case you havent noticed? Were close enough to where the two bodies balance each other out, Han insisted. We can do it, guys!

Cmon! Follow me!

He altered his flight vector slightly, and was pleased to note that Rimrunner and the Falcon followed him. Okay, were all set! Hah said tensely. Now for the

microjumpY

Hey, Han, that illusion is only going to be good for another couple of minutes! Lando protested. We cant possibly get a course out of the navicomputers in time!

I got it covered, Hah said. You just order that fancy little droid of yours to compute our microjump and put the three of us right in the forefront of that fleet. He can dump the figures into our navicomputers over the comm. Cant you, Vuffi Raa?

I am a class two droid, of course I can make such an elementary calculation, Vuffi Raa said, sounding affronted at having his abilities questioned. But, Captain Solo, I must point out that what you are suggesting presents a considerable risk. From the way the little droid spoke, Han could picture it wringing its tentacles at the very idea. Lando, cmonl Order him to do it!

Han could hear Lando sigh even over the comm. All right, you crazy Corellian. Vuffi Raa, you mechanical mas-termind, do what Han says!

Moments later Vuffi Raa said, in a subdued voice, Course laid in.

Punch it! Hah yelled, suiting his actions to his worcls. The stars striated around him for a brief second, then he found himself racing straight at the Imperial fleet!

He glanced from one side to the other, saw that Lando and Salla were still in formation with him. And, behind them and to either side of them, stretched Xaverris illu-sion. Han could see it now, and even though hed been prepared for something big, he was impressed. All right! he yelled. Thanks, Vuffi Raa!

As the phantom fleet drew nearer the Imperial wedge, the big capital ships began blasting away. Hah realized im-mediately that there was a huge advantage to being part of an illusion. With this many ships to shoot at, chances were pretty good that none of the three solid vessels would be targeted. Nevertheless, he prepared quickly for evasive. Jarik, you ready, kid? he called. Ready, Han! Chewie, you ready with those twin lasers?

Hrrrrrrnnnnnnnn!

Han chose a target the leftmost Dreadnaught, which was the one closest to him. Im going after that Dread-naught dead ahead, he said over the comm. He glanced at the vessel ID. The Peacekeeper. Well stay with you, Lando said. We can cover each other.

Great! Han was having the time of his life. Aint this fun, guys?

Hah, what are you planning to do? Salla inquired ap-prehensively.

Oh, I just thougilt I might zip by the Peacekeepers bridge and wave at the captain, Han said with cheery good humor. Just a friendly little visit . . .

Han! Salla protested. Id rather we all lived through this?

Crazy Corellian . . Lando muttered.

Hey, Han said. What are you worryin about? Its Hie!

Captain Reldo Dovlis, in command of the Imperial Dreadnaught Peacekeeper, shook his head in disgust. Cease fire! he snapped. Its not rea]. It cant be. Our shots havent taken out a single ship. And none of their shots have done us the slightest bit of harm. Were just wasting our fire and our time. His sensor operator looked up. Sensors still indicate that what we are seeing is real, sir. Sensors are lying, then, Dovlis snarled. He studied the tactical array, and saw a number of ships heading for Peacekeepers stern, coming fast. Vessels approaching from the tear, he said. Turn to bring our forward turbolaser battery to bear on them. Lock in weapons. Prepare to fire on my order. Slowly the big ship began to swing around. Dovlis kept a shalt) watch on the approaching vessels, and was relieved to see that hed have time to fire several salvos at them. From the size of them, that ought toHis pilot gave a strangled yelp, and the Peacekeeper shuddered. Red laser fire spattered against Peacekeepers forward shield.

A bare second later a ship swooped by, so close to the bridge viewscreen that even Dovlis yelled and ducked. The ship, a small, battered SoroSuub freighter, executed a per-fect inside loop and came back for a second run.

Theyre not all phantoms./Dovlis realized. Turn back! he shouted. Fire on that ship!

Peacekeeper began turning back again. Now Dovlis could see the smuggler fleet again, and he gasped at how close they were.

Two more beat-up freighters strafed the Peacekeeper.

Target those vessels! the Captain ordered. Fire!

Mako Spinces crew had managed to jury-fig some re-pairs to the Dragon Pearl, so the Hutt yacht now had par-tial starboard shielding, and her hull leaks had been sealed. Her sublight speeds were still impaired, but Mako was will-ing to risk taking her back into battle. Captain Renthal had assigned a Y-wing fighter to accompany him, and the swift, powerful little ship now cruised beside him, prepared to keep incoming off his weakened starboard side.

Scanning the tactical and sensor arrays, Mako saw that he was now in range of his target, the Imperial bulk cruiser Liquidator. The ship was still pointing its stern toward the oncoming smuggler and pirate vessels, still vulnerable to attack.

Mako, Blue said, were within firing range.

Mako nodded at the beautiful smuggler pilot. Great! Im going to let the Y-wing have first pass, then well get in our licks. Instruct the gunnery crew to target his left rear deflector, right over his engine room. We want to hit him in the same place as the Y-wing.

Right, Blue muttered, and relayed the order.

Mako was grateful to have that Y-wing to help cover his starboard side. The swift, modern little fighter was not only equipped with lasers, but with proton torpedoes, which were bound to come in real handy. He keyed his comm, spoke to the pirate gunner aboard the Y-wing. Mako here. You ready? Were ready!

Go for it!

Mako watched the Y-wing on his sensors. The little ship made its run, slamming four proton torpedoes into the des-ignated target before sheeting off. Okay, Mako, the gun-ner said, circling back to join the yacht, shields are either down or barely holding. Your turn! My pleasure? Mako turned to Blue and gave her a nod. She increased speed to maximum (which still wasnt very good) and headed for the Liquidator, turbolasers blasting away.

With their first blast, Mako knew the bulk cruisers shields were already down. The Pearls gunners pummeled their target repeatedly with the two remaining turbolasers, before the cumbersome Imperial vessel could turn to bring her heavy forward guns to bear.

Moments later the Imperial ships right flank, and the engine room beneath it, was a blown-out wreck. The Liqui-dawr spun slowly in space, helpless, leaking atmosphere.

Captain Drea Renthal leaned forward excitedly in her command seat. Finally! A little action of my nvn!

Guiding her ships throughout the battle had been challenging, but not like this. Now she was flying her own vessel, and she was going in for the kill.

Her target was another of the big bulk cruisers, the Ar-resWr. These ships were outdated, clumsy, and not heavily shielded enough. By comparison with Arrestor, Renthal F/st was a heavily armed, sleek engine of destruction. In addition to its two twin turbolasers in top and bottom tur-rets her Corellian corvette had four twin laser turrets on the sides for shooting fighters, and a pair of capitd-ship proton torpedo launchers in the front, beneath her bridge.

Her supply of proton torpedoes was limited, as Han had predicted. Renthal had only four. They were extremely hard to come by.

But as she closed in on Arrestor, Renthal was deter-mined to make every one of them count. As she neared firing range, she spoke to her gunnery crew. Prepare to launch torpedo one and two. Target her stern. Id love to get a reactor overload going! Yes, sir! Renthal smiled. She liked being called sir.

As Renthal Fist swooped by, she shouted, Fire!

Her ship lurched slightly, once, twice, as the proton tor-pedoes went streaking out in a blue of blue fire. The first torpedo took out the cruisers shields. The sec-ond bored into the hull and caused damage. Fire turbolasers! Renthal ordered, coming around for another pass.

The Arrestor was lurching now with the impacts. The turbolasers bored ever deeper into her vitals, seeking her heart-the reactor that powered her engines.

Renthal was never quite sure what warned her. Instinct, perilaps, developed after twenty years of fighting. She turned her ship sharply, and accelerated away at top speed.

Behind her, Arrestor exploded as thoroughly as any frag-fie TIE fighter. Renthal smfied seraphically. My, that was fun!

Mako cheered as he watched five of Renthals Y-wings strafe the Dreadnaught Peacekeepers stern, targeting its vulnerable engine area, volleying it with proton torpedo SalVOS. The Dreadnaughts were a lot tougher targets than the clumsy bulk cruisers, but he thought they might have a chance to kill this one.

Apparently Han, Salla, and Lando had pulled some typi-caly harebrained stunt to keep the Peacekeeper occupied until the Y-wings eould move in. Mako could make out their blips, following the Y-wings, waiting for those proton torpedoes to deal with the shields before wasting shots on the big vessel. Mako found himself doing some mental figuring as the Y-wings strafed the Imperial Dreadnaught. Two salvos of two torpedoes each, from five Y-wings... that equals twenty torpedo hits!

It sounded like a lot, but Mako had trained aboard an Imperial Dreadnaught, and knew how tough the old ships were.

There goes the first salvo . . . ten torpedoes . . . ten hits . . . Mako did some rough calculations, figured that the Peacekeepers stern shields ought to be in real trouble by now.

As the Y-wings swooped by on their second pass, black-ened holes began appearing in the Dreadnaughts star-board flank, where its massive engines were.

Now that the shields were down, other smugglers were attac4cing the Dreadnaughts stern with abandon. The Imp Captain tried to turn his ship so he could fire on them, Mako could tell, but the ship was already sluggish, unre-sponsive.

And then, suddenly, there was a bright flare on the star-board side, and then the light from the Peacekeepers en-gines went out.

Mako whistled softly. I think hes in trouble . . .

Sir, the starboard reactor overloaded! The safeties shut it down! Reldo Dovliss second-in-command reported. No engine power remaining, sir!

Dovlis looked around, feeling desperate. Without en-gines, he couldnt escape. The smuggler ships were too small to do him much damage quickly, but over time they could cut his ship to ribbons, starting from the unprotected starboard stern, and working their way up, toward the bridge, destroying shields piece by piece, boring into his ship with their little lasers . . .

Weve got to restart those engines, or weve had it, Dovlis said, knowing he spoke the truth. Override the fail-safe. We need power!

But, Captain-The young mans face was ashen with fear. Dovlis didnt blame him. Reactors werent something to mess around with. But what other alternative did he have? All the other Imperial vessels were engaged it was unlikely that an appeal to Greelanx would bring help quickly enough. Dovlis was counting on the fact that the override on the reactor was designed to trip long before tilere was actual danger of an explosion.

He fixed his subordinate with a steely gaze. I gave you an order, Commander. Yes, sir!

If only we can fire the engines for long en,ntgh to get closer to the other ships! Dovlis thought. Drifting, the Peacekeeper would tend to be pulled in by Nar Shaddans gravity. Dovlis heard his ships engines fire, strain, and h is heart ached at what he was having to do to her. But all their lives were at stake.

Peacekeeper strained, lurched, then crept slowly forward

and then shuddered in agony as her starboard engine exploded. The port engine was still firing, however, and the unequal thrust sent the Dreadnaught into a dizzying spin!

Engines ore shouted Dovlis, but found that the Com-mander had already anticipated his order. Peacekeeper spun now in silence, whirling over and over.

The artificial gravity was still functioning because of the emergency power cells. But they werent enough to power the ships maneuvering thrusters. They had no way to pull out of this spin. Firing the port engines again would only make them spin harder, faster.

Reldo Dovlis watched in utter terror as the stars whirled by, then the surface of Nar Shaddaa, hazy because of the moons planetary shield, then the stars, then the moon . . . Do somethingl his mind screamed Were being drawn by the moons gravity! In abentt a minute, were going to hit Nar Shaddaa energy shield!

And what an explosion that would be!

Stars . . . moon . . . stars . . . moon . . .

Whirling in a dizying spin, whirling, spinning, utterly powerless to stop . . . Stars . . . moon . . . stars . . . moon . . . stars . . moon very close now . . . Dovlis strove for dignity. He was, after all, an Imperial officer. Can anyone think of anything that might help? lie askeck keeping his voice steady and calm.

His bridge crew looked at him silently. The law of grav-ity was, in this case, as cruel and inexorable as any of those imposed by the Emperor.

Stars . . . moon . . . stars . . . moon so close now . . .

Stars... moon...

And then there was only the moon, clutching them to her, dragging them into her shield And then there was nothing at all . . .

One of the smugglers who had darted in to take shots at the dying Peacekeeper was Roa, who was feeling pretty cocky. Lately hed been wondering if he wasnt getting old, losing his edge, but today hed engaged in two dogfights with TIE fighters, and come out victorious. Hey, Ive .still got it! he thought, sending the Lwyll darting after the spinning Dreadnaught. Just for the thrill of it, he sent the Lwyll hurtling beneath the plummeting Imp,

pulling out steeply, feeling the gee forces grip him, so

strong was the pulland then the Peacekeeper hit Nar Shaddans shield. Even climbing as he was, the shock wave threw Roa forward. He smashed into his control yoke with bruising force. Parts of his instrument panel shattered, sending shards of glassinc to impale his arms and chest like tiny daggers.

As the big ship exploded, it wiped out a section of the planetary shield, and flaming debris was sucked through, down into the upper atmosphere. And so was Roa.

Tile concussion shock wave had stunned him, and he struggled to regain full consciousness. It wasnt easy. Waves of blackness rolled over him like a night sea.

But Roa was a fighter. He didnt give up his struggle to open his eyes, to blink, to raise his head. Seconds later he was able to focus again, and realized where he was and what he was doing. He was falling like a stone, down and down, hurtling through Nar Shaddaas grimy atmosphere. Roa blinked. There was something in his eyes. Blood?

Most likely.

He shook his head, and pain stabbed. Trying to move brought agony. His instrument panel was a mess, but some parts were still lit and functioning. His flight suit was no longer vacuum-proof, but he wasnt in a vacuum any longer . . .

Forcing himself to move, to take control, Roa grabbed the controls and began to wrestle the little scout craft down through the atmosphere, using every bit of skill he had to achieve a soft landing. Or even a hard landing.

Any kind of landing

The LwyU tried valiantly to respond to his commands. He brought her nose up, got air beneath her wings. His headlong fall slowed.

Roa began testing his braking and maneuvering thrust-ers, and they responded sluggishly. He was still falling, but now it was a relatively controlled fall.

Beneath him, he could see a landing platform. Using his maneuvering thrusters, he managed to edge the Lwyll over, until he was certain hed land on it, as opposed to tumbling over the side, down into the abyss between buildings . . . The permacrete was rushing up at him, fast . . . Too fastY

Roa fought gravity as he would have fought a human opponent in a wrestling match, using every bit of skill he possessed.

As the permacrete hurtled up at him, Roa braced him-self . . .

He never remembered the moment of impact.

How much later did he blink, swim back to conscious-ness? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Roa didnt know and didnt care. He hurt in a hundred places, but a more visceral fear than any hed ever known drove him to full consciousness.

The smell of burning. The LwyU was burning. Any mo-ment now, she might explode, and all his struggle to land her would be for nothing . . .

Ignoring the stabbing glassinc shards that still impaled him, Roa reached up and stabbed the control that would pop his cockpit. Clumsily he unsnapped his flight harness. He managed to pull himself up, out of his seat, then half fell over the side. He kicked weakly, trying to get the strength to draw his legs over. Suddenly hands grabbed him, lifted him. Voices babbled in his ears, faint because of the helmet. He was being lifted, carried.

He heard steps on the permacrete. They were hurrying, running steps. He was being shaken, jounced, almost as badly as when the explosion had hit him.

Roa raised his head slightly, looked back at the Lwyll, just in time to see his beloved little ship blow up. But Im alive, he thought foggily. Im alive, and I still have the real Lwyll . . . And with that thought, he blacked out.

For a man who had been granted his wish, Admiral Win-stel Greelanx was remarkably unhappy. The Admiral stared at his tactical screens, his sensors, saw the damage his squadron had taken, and was absolutely furious. How dare those smugglers? How dare they?

One Dreadnaught utterly destroyed. A Carrack-class cruiser fit only for salvage. One bulk cruiser a helpless crip-ple, another that was now part of the debris and spacedust floating around Nar Shaddaa . .

.

Greelanx fought back the urge to rally his troops and continue the battle. He still had a formidable force, espe-cially against these smugglers. There was a decent chance, perhaps more than fifty-fifty, that he would be able to achieve victory and implement his orders.

But he couldnt do that. He had been looking for a way to justify withdrawal, and now it had been handed to him.

He turned to Commander Jelon. Order our ships to fall back in an orderly fashion. When they have disengaged, order them to rendezvous at our hyperspace rally coordi-nates. Jelon stared at his commanding officer in open surprise.

Retreat, sir?

Yes, retreat, Greelanx said harshly. We cannot achieve our directive here in the YToub system. Approved tactical wisdom dictates an orderly retreat, while we still have some control over the situation. Usually Greelanx would no more justify his orders to a subordinate than he would step out an airlock without a spacesuit, but in his mind he was composing his official report, trying those phrases on for size. Jelon snapped to attention and saluted formally. Yes, sir!

Retreat? thought Captain Soontir Fel in blank astonishment. Retreat? We can still win[

It wouldnt be easy, but it was do-able. Fel was sure of it. He simply couldnt believe that Greelanx had so little back-bone.

Retreat in orderly fashion, Commander Jelon re-peated. Those are the admirals orders. Fel outranked Jelon, and that gave him the courage to speak his mind more bluntly than he would have dared to the admiral. But there are still unrecalled TIEs out there. We cant abandon them!

The admiral is expecting the squadron to make the jump to hyperspace at the rally coordinates within the time he specified, Jelon said stiffly.

Fels mouth tightened. Fel out, he said curtly, and the tiny holographic image of Jelon vanished. Soonfir Fel turned to his second-in-command. Broad-east an emergency recall to all TIE fighters to rendezvous with the Pr/de. I will take as many as I can, until the dock-ing bays and shuttle bays are full. At the same time, we will disengage and withdraw, Commander Toniv. Vhat speed, sir? One-quarter speed, Commander.

One-quarter speed, sir?

You heard me.

Yes, sir!

Fel had ordered such a ridiculously low speed in order to give as many TIEs as possible the chance to get aboard his vessel. Technically, he was obeying his orders-Gree-lanx had neglected to specify a speed but he was dis-obeying them in spirit.

Frankly, at the moment, Soontir Fel could have cared less about his orders. He wasnt going to abandon those TIE pfiots!

Five minutes later his docking bays were full of the reg-ulation twelve TIE fighters, and his shuttle bay contained another three. Sensors didnt indicate any other TIEs out there to be picked up, so Fel ordered Pride up to full speed to catch up to the rest of the squadron.

A minute later the tiny holographic image of Admiral Greelanx materialized on his comm board. Captain Fel!

Fel had no trouble staying cool. He was still too angry to be apprehensive. Yes, Admiral? You deliberately disobeyed my order!

I retrieved our fighters, Admiral. And their pilots. I considered that . . . important. Greelanxs little image bristled. Captain, this decision on your part could wind up costing you your command. I shall make a full report.

Fel swallowed, but his gaze did not waver. And I shall, of course, make my full report, he said. As per regula-tions, I intend to offer all the facts of the battle as I ob-served it. Greelanx stared at Fel for a long moment. Neither gaze wavered.

Finally, the admiral nodded. As you wish, Captain. The tiny image vanished. S oontir Fel dropped into a seat, resisting the urge to hold his head in his hands. Were the lives of those TIE pilots worth a career? It was entirely possible that he was about to find out. Soontir Fel sighed. Life could be very complicated, at times. But then a thought occurred to him, and it cheered him considerably . . . At least I didnt have to execute Base Delta Zero . . . thats worth something, too . . . Twenty-four hours after Han and Chewie had brought the Br/a safely back to Nar Shaddaa, undamaged save for the gun mount and a weakened stern shield over her engine housing, Han and Xaverri stood together on the windswept landing platform beside The Phantasms landing ramp. Salla and Chewie had accompanied them most of the way, but had discreetly fallen back, to allow them to say a private farewell.

Now Han looked at Xaverri, who had once more as-sumed her colorful, stylish clothes, and shook his head. I hate good-byes, he said miserably. I can never think of anything to say, and this is worse than usual. How can I find words to thank you, Xaverri? Your illusion saved us. With-out you, we wouldnt have been able to do it.

She smiled at him, her dark eyes full of affection. Hey, Solo . . . I wouldnt have missed it for all the credits in the galaxy. I just wish Id been on the bridge of a few of those Imperial ships to see their reaction.

Han laughed. They had to have been surprised, thats for sure. hnpulsively he reached out and took her hands, then found himself hugging her fiercely. Im gonna miss you, he said, his voice muffled by her hair. Just when I thought Id gotten used to living without you, here I have to do it all over again. It aint fair, Xaverri.

When he pulled back a bit, she reached up and kissed him firmly on the mouth. Dont worry, she said with a smile, Salla wont mind. Shes a classy lady. She is, he agreed. We think a lot alike. Xaverri nodded. I hope you two are happy, Solo. You take care of each other, okay? Han nodded. You, too. I will, Solo. Dont forget me . . .

Never, he said, his throat tight. I could never forget you, Xaverri. Xaverri pulled away, and he let her go. She ran up the ramp, into her ship, and did not look back . . . Three days after the Battle of Nar Shaddaa (as it was coming to be known), Han, Chewie, Salla, and Lando at-tended Roas wedding. The aging smuggler was nearly healed, thanks to a prolonged dunk in a bacta tank, and Lwyll looked radiant in an elegant gown.

It was generally known that the four smugglers had been instrumental in turning the tide of battle in Nar Shaddaas favor. Han and his friends were the toast of the party. They wandered around, sipping drinks, scarfing appetizers, shak-ing hands, and being congratulated by all and sundry. Lando came up to Roa, threw an arm around the smug-glers shoulders, and said, I understand that getting out of the smuggling business is one of the conditions to this wed-ding, Roa. Thats right.

Well, youre going to need honest employment, then.

Would you like to work for me? Doing what?

Lando laughed. Dont look so suspicious! Managing my used spaceship lot. Im going on an extended trip back to the Centrality, and I need someone reliable to look after the business. Roa looked very thoughtful. Well . . . sure! I think Id like that. Thanks, Lando. So . . . why are you heading out? Got something planned?

Vuffl Raa and I are heading back to the Centrality be-cause Ive got a hunch I could make a quick fortune run-ning cargo to those backward planets. And-Lando smiled and stroked his fledgling mustache-if that doesnt work, there are always the casinos in the Oseon system. Itll do me good to polish up my sabaee game. When you dont play, you get rusty. The games here on Nar Shaddaa are pretty small, credit-ante. I need some real high-stakes ac-tion to get ready for the real action. Han, who had been wandering past, stopped when he heard Landos speech. Sabacc game? Real action? Whats going on? Whose sabacc game needs polish?

Lando laughed. Mine does. If I can raise the stake, Im going to get myself into the big sabacc game thats being held on Bespin in six months. Antes ten thousand credits.

Ten thousand credits! Han whistled softly. Thats a big game, all right. Lando smiled at his friend. Hey, youre a pretty decent sabacc player, Han. You ought to consider getting together your own stake.

Hah shook his head. No way!

Why not?

Too rich for my bloodT Hah said. If I could manage to scrounge up ten thousand credits, Id put it toward a ship of my own.

Yeah, but you might win enough to buy one, Lando pointed out.

Im not that lucky, Han said.

Oh, cmon, Han, Lando urged, you could raise the credits. He looked over at Chewbacca. Chewie would loan em to you, wouldnt you, Chewbacca? Hes your best friend, right? Chewbacca gave an eloquent growl, then shook his head emphatically. Hah laughed. Not a good enough friend to risk ten thousand credits, Lando!

Durga the Hutt crouched beside his parents repulsor sled, grief-stricken, watching the med droids and Grodo, the Hutt physician, work desperately to save Aruk. But even he could tell that their efforts were doomed to failure.

Aruk had collapsed minutes ago, gasping in pain, retch-ing, moaning, then jerking in frenzied spasms. Durga had never felt so helpless as he watched his parent struggle for life and breath. Aruk the Hutt had always been strong, strong and stub-born. It took him four hours to die, four agonizing, pain-filled hours. Durga crouched by him the entire time, hoping that his parent would regain consciousness, but Aruk never did.

It was a relief when the Besadii Lords straining heart finally gave up the struggle, but even though he was glad that Iris parent was free of the terrible pain, Durga was devastated. He had lost his best friend, as well as his par-ent.

He clutdmd Aruks limp hand, seeing the rivulets of green slobber running out the slack, dead mouth, and knew, without knowing how he knew, that this death was murder.

Who had done this?

Who else but Desilijic stood to profit by Aruks death? For days Durga was too devastated to function, barely eating, dragging himself around like a lost spirit. He re-fused to let his parents body be interred. Even though the physicians tests on the contents of Aruks stomach indi-cated that there was no poison, that the Hutt l_rd had died of natural causes, Durga was convinced that there had been foul play. He had Aruks massive corpse frozen, and re-solved to hire a team of forensic specialists from Imperial Center to perform a thorough autopsy as soon as things settled down.

The Besadii kajidic was in an uproar. Two factions emerged, the pro-Durga and the anti-Durga faction. Durga took steps to consolidate his power. He contacted an infa-mous crime syndicate, Black Sun, that was owned and com-manded by the powerful prince Xizor, and explained to the prince how their organizations might prove beneficial to each other . . .

Over the next three weeks, three powerful Besadii Lords died-two in shuttle crashes, one by drowning when his river barge struck an uncharted rock and sank. After that, the anti-Durga faction became far less vocal. While he waited for the forensic specialists to arrive from Imperial Center, Durga made a list of possible sus-pects. Surely there would be some clue, somewhere, as to who had done this-and how. Durga resolved to start with the financial records. As a Hutt, he understood finances, and profit. He would check the finances of every member of Desilijic, then go on to Besadii, then the other clans. He would look for a patteN. There was always a pattern to finances, if one knew how to see it . . . Slowly, day by day, the young Hutt Lord found the strength to carry on without his parent. Someone is going to pay for this, he vowed every morn-ing when he looked at Aruks holo hanging on the wall in his chamber. And they will pay dearly . . .

This time around, the snooty administrative aide waved Han into Admiral Greelanxs private sanctum without question. It was obvious to Han that his arrival was ea-gerly awaited. The Corellian smiled grimly as he walked in. He supposed hed be glad to see someone who was going to give him a fortune, too . . . The admiral was standing by the viewport, stating out moodily. He turned as Han came in, nodded, but did not smile. Did you bang them? he asked.

Yes, sir, theyre all here, exactly as specified, Han said. Carefully he pushed items away from the center of Gree-lanxs desk and then emptied the small pouch he carried into the cleared spot. Greelanx stared down at the sparkling fortune in as-sorted untraceable gems, and his eyes lit up. The Hutts are true to their word, he said. But you wont mind if I-He gestured with a magnifier. Go right ahead, Han said.

The admiral spent the next few minutes examining sev-eral of the largest, most beautiful gems-Gallinorean rain-bow gems, corusca stones, and Krayt dragon pearls of various sizes and hues. I assume you found your shuttle at the rendezvous point, the admiral said, since you are here exactly on time. Yes, sir, everything was just like you said it would be, Admiral.

Greelanx glanced up, still homing the magnifier up to his face. His right eye was enormous, as seen through the lens. How are you planning to get off my ship? he asked, as if only mildly curious. Han shrugged. I have a partner who will pick me up.

Very well. Young man, these stones are exactly as speci-fied. Please tell your Hutt masters that I am satisfied.

Han nodded, but said, They arent my masters. I just work for them.

Whatever, Greelanx said. He hesitated, then said, I didnt believe you could do it, you know. Even with the battle plan.

I know, Han said. But it was that or die. We were fighting for our lives. You were fighting for credits. Makes a big difference.

That holo-illusion was a brilliant tactical stroke.

Han smiled and executed a slight bow. Thank you.

Greelanx seemed taken aback. You did it?

No, I had an expert do it. But it was my idea.

Ah. The admiral seemed to consider for a moment, then said, with a trace of wistfulness, You despise me, dont you, young man?

Han stared at him in surprise. Not at all. I do lots of things Im not tickled about for credits. But there are some things you will not do.

Han considered. Yeah, thats true.

Well, IGreelanx broke off as the door suddenly opened, and his aide stood there, eyes wide and frightened. Admiral! Sir! What is it? Greelanx was annoyed.

Sir, I was just advised by the docking-bay crew . . . he has just landed. An unscheduled inspection, apparently. He is on his way to speak with you at this moment!

Greelanx took a deep breath, then waved the man out. I suppose I should have anticipated this, under the cir-cumstances, he muttered, racing over to the wall. Behind a Certificate of Merit, there was a wall lockup unit. Gree-lanx stood for a moment, letting the unit scan his retinas. The door swung open. The admiral grabbed a double hand-ful of jewels, raced over, dumped them in, then came back and brushed the last of the gems into his palm, dumped them, too.

While all this was going on, Han was standing there, totally bemused by the admirals actions. Whats going on? he asked.

No time, Greelanx said, shutting the lockup. Here, youll have to wait in here. You cant let him see you. If he did The admiral bit his lip, yanked open the other door, the one leading to his secretarys office. The room was va-cant, dark. In here. Dont make a sound. Not a sound, understand? No, Han said, totally confused. I dont.

Greelanx did not bother to reply. Grabbing Hans arm, he shoved him into the office, then shut the door. Han stood there in the dark office, wondering what in blazes was going on. Who was he? It sounded like Greelanx was expecting some kind of monster out of a kids adven-ture tri-dee!

Half-tempted to storm back out and just say good rid-dance, Hah tiptoed over to the door. The doorseal, he discovered, hadnt quite caught. He was able to hear Gree-lanx moving around, and then came some small thumps and rustles.

Putting h desk back to rights, Han realized.

Then came a squeak, as Greelanx sat back down in his luxurious lizard-hide chair. Han could almost picture him, being elaborately casual.

The doorseal to the outer office hissed. Han heard a heavy, measured tread and the whisper of something that might have been fabric. Was the newcomer wearing long robes? A cloak? Then came another sound that the Corellian recog-nized loud, stentorian breathing, respirations that were artificially stimulated because the wearer was unable to breathe on his own. A respirator mask . . . the visitor was wearing a respirator mask.

Somehow the sounds of those loud, hissing breaths was ominous. Hah swallowed and didnt make a sound.

Greelaux said, in a deliberately bright, pleasant tone that

was supposed to sound casual, but instead sounded terrified, Lord, what an unexpected pleasure! The Outer Rim is honored by your presence. I gather you wish to conduct

an inspection. You must understand that we have just recently been engaged in battle, soGreelanx, said a deep, mechanically enhanced voice that made Hans skin crawl, you are as stupid as you are greedy. Did you imagine that the High Command would remain unaware of your treachery? Now Greelanx made no attempt to hide his fear. Lord, please! You dont understand, I was ord His voice broke off in a choked cry. Hans eyes widened, and he wouldnt have opened that door into Greelanxs office for all the dragon pearls in the galaxy.

Silence, except for that loud, harsh breathing. Silence, for many seconds. Then . . . a heavy thump as something landed on the thick carpet. The voice said, Ah, but I un-derstand perfectly, Admiral. The heavy footsteps came again, passed the door where Hah was hiding, did not pause. Then came the sound of the doorseal activating. Silence.

Han waited a good five minutes before he dared to un-seal the door and peer out. He wasnt particularly surprised to find Greelanx sprawled on the carpet. He checked for a pulse, found none, which also wasnt surprising.

What was surprising was that there wasnt a mark on the body. When Han hadnt heard a blaster, hed assumed the visitor had used a vibroblade. An expert assassin could use one to kill with little blood, and no struggle. But Greelanx didnt have a mark on him . . .

Han stood there, looking down at the admirals dead features, which were frozen in a look of utter terror. He shivered. Who was that guy?

Han walked over to the wall, took a cursory glance at the lockup, but it was as hed expected a good unit, retinally activated. And even if he were to dig Greelanxs eyeball out of its socket-a grisly task, all right-the admiral had al-ready been dead too long. The retinal patterns wouldnt work right. Im gettin cmtta here . . .Han decided. He walked back, stepped over Greelanxs outflung hand, and then stopped when something his toe had kicked rolled across the carpet. Han stooped, grabbed it exultantly. A Krayt dragon pead! Small, but it seemed, to the naked eye, flawless. Opalescent black. A valuable color.

Sealing the jewel in an inside pocket, Han hurried out. Ten minutes later hed finished making his preparations for his escape. He stood by the hatch on the lifepod deck, hastily finishing a rewiiing job on file pod-ejection controls. Then he pressed a button, and the lifepod hatch hissed open softly. He froze as he heard a step, then a familiar voice. Stop right there, Han. Turn around . . . slowly. Han did so, and found, as hed expected from the voice, his old friend Tedris Bjalin. The man stood there, holding a blaster aimed at Hah. What are you doing here? I saw you in the corridor, saw you go into the admirals office. Why were you talking to the admiral? Whats going on? Theyre going to think I murdered Greelanx, Han real-ized. Theyll shoot me first and ask questions later!

Hey, Tedris, take it easy, he said, smiling crookedly. He took a slow, careful step forward. You know you couldnt shoot your old pal.

Stop it right there, Solo, Bjalin said, but his hand

wasnt quite steady on the blasters grip. They had, after all,

been close friends. What are you doing wearing that uniform? Who are youHey, pal, you got questions, lets go somewhere and talk about this, Han said. I can answer everyBreaking off in midword, Han flung himself at Tedris, using a very dirty Corellian street-fighting trick. Bjalin went down, then lay on the deck, wheezing for breath, his eyes accusing. Hah stooped down, appropriated his old friends blaster.

He went down on one knee beside his friend. Listen to me, Tedris, he said softly. Youre not gonna die, though you wont be real comfy for a while. I want you to know something. I didnt do it. Okay? Just remember that, later on. And you know something, Tedris? Youre too nice a guy to stay in this lousy, massacre-happy Imperial Navy. Take my advice and get out while you can. With that, Han stunned Tedris, then stepped over his friends unconscious form. Hastily he dragged Bjalin into one of the other lifepods, making sure the hatch wasnt fastened, so there was no way he could accidentally be ejected.

Then he ducked through the hatch of the lifepod hed rewired. Moments later he was ejected into space. Hed rigged the lifepod so it would look like an accidental ejec-tion. Not surprising, under the circumstances. After all, the Destiny had just been through a battle . . . He worried for a while that the Imps might retrieve his pod, but they did not. Han figured that Greelanxs murder was occupying everyones attention.

Chewie picked him up an hour later, as he drifted, still puzzling over what had happened to Greelanx. The Wookiee scooped Hans stolen lifepod into the Brias cargo bay, whining and growling that they had to get out of here, fast, there were recon TIE fighters prowling around. Hah agreed. Hastily he and Chewie headed for the bridge. They were halfway there when they heard the WHUMP! Seconds later another followed, this one so strong it knocked both of them to the deck. Chewie, were under fire! Hah yelled. Get to the gun mount!

Hah hastily slipped into the pilots seat, saw two recon TIEs circling back for a second pass-and then he saw the blinking red light on his control board. Chewie! Reactor ovedoad! They hit us right in that weak shield! Weve gotta abandon ship!

Leaping up, he ran to the gun turret, then grabbed the Wookiee and began dragging him out. Chewbacca shook his head, arguing, but Han screamed, Run, you big oafi This ship is gonna blow !

When they reached the cargo deck again, the Woo!dee was hesitant about crawling into the Imperial lifepod, but Han insisted. Dont you get it, Chewie? The Bria is fin-ished! This is our only chance! Now get inside and put on this respirator mask!

Once Chewie was safely inside, Han hastfly donned a spacesuit, then opened the cargo-bay doors wide. WHUMP! WHUMP-WHUMPI

Give up, Hah thought at the TIEs as he attached an anti-grav unit to the lifepod, then floated it over to the cargo door. Were doomed anyhow . . . Tapping on the viewport, he gestured out what he planned. Chewie, now wearing the respirator, nodded.

Then, in one smooth motion, Han slid the pod toward the opening, just as Chewie popped the hatch and yanked him inside.

The entire sequence took maybe six seconds. Not enough time for explosive decompression to rupture tough Woo!dee hide. A second later the hatch was closed and dogged, and atmosphere was again filling the pod.

The pod had barely cleared the cargo-bay doors when the Bria blew up. The co ncussion knocked the little lifepod spinning. Han braced himself, half expecting one of the TIEs to attack them, but as hed hoped, their escape was covered by the explosion. The lifepod was very, very cramped. Han managed to get his helmet off, then he and Chewie just crouched there, almost in each others arms, and stared at each other, then back at the flaming debris that had been their ship.

Lando isnt gonna like this, Han said ruefully. The Bria had been a cranky, temperamental ship, but hed kind of gotten used to her.

Chewie growled softly in Wooldee. Han looked at him and shrugged. What do we do now? Your guess is as good as mine, pal. This is an inhabited system, so the lifepod controls ought to soft-land us somewhere near where we can get a transport . . .

Chewie whined. Oh, you mean what will we do for a ship? Han sighed. Thats a real good question, pal .

. .

He dead, Teroenza thought in disbelief, looking at the message from Nal Hutta. It worked. I cant believe Ank really gone!

For just a moment he felt a tiny prickle of guilt, but it was swiftly drowned in excitement. With Aruk out of the way, and Desilijics credits pouring in, nothing could stop him from taking over complete control of the entire Ylesian operation. Durga was back on Nal Hutta, with his hands fiill trying to control Besadii. Kibbick was, as everyone knew, an idiot.

Teroenza pictured his collection, and then pictured it as it would be soon. He would build a separate building to house it!

And he would bring his mate here. No more lonely days and nights. They would slosh in the mud wallows together, rich beyond their wildest dreams . . .

Teroenza spent several minutes putting on a suitably lu-gubrious expression, then the tlanda Til went off to find Kibbick, and inform him that his uncle was dead . . .

Moff Sarn Shild sat alone in his palatial home on Teth, wondering just what had gone wrong. The attack on Nal Hutta had obviously been a huge mistake. GreelanxGreelanx had failed, and now the admiral was dead under suspicious circumstances. Shfld was alone in his house, save for the droids. All his living servants were gone, he knew not where. Bria . . . she was gone, too, had disappeared days ago. She hadnt even said good-bye . . . Yesterday, the Emperor had summoned Shild back to Imperial Center, to face a board of inquiry about the ill-fated attack on the YToub system. Palpatines message had made it clear that the Emperor was hurst displeased.

Shild sat alone, struggling to comprehend it all. Scant days ago, hed been on top of the galaxy. Now he couldnt even remember why hed done the things hed done. It was almost as though hed been possessed by an alien entity.

Shild stared down at his ornate desk. Before him lay a blaster, side by side with a vial of poison. Shild took a deep breath. He had no illusions anymore. Traveling to Imperial Center would only prolong the inevitable.

Anything would be better than facing Palpatines wrath.

But which should he use, the blaster or the poison? Shild considered for a while, but couldnt make up his mind. Finally, in desperation, he fell back on a childhood memory. Moving his finger from one means of death (and escape) to the other, he began to chant aloud Wonga, winga, cingee wooze . . . which of these do I choose?

It was strange, being back on CoreIlia after all these years away, Han thought, six months later. The streets were both familiar and strange, comforting and threatening. Bad things had happened to him on his homeworld, lots of bad things . . .

But maybe, just maybe, his luck was about to change. As he walked down the street, Han patted his pocket, which held the little dragon pearl, and a small gold statuette with ruby eyes. It was a palador, an extinct Corellian animal. Years ago, Han had cached the statuette, which hed stolen from Teroenzas collection, in a safe place on his homeworld.

Now he planned to fence both the statuette and the dragon pearl. He figured that, together, they were worth about ten thousand credits. The big sabacc game on Bespin would be held in ten days . . . Han was relieved to find that Galidon Okanors shop was still there. Okanor paid top dollar, though, like all fences, he liked to haggle.

Ten thousand credits, Han thought. Never thought Id be desperate enough to sk it all on one high-stakes sabacc game . . . especially if lm playing against a shatpie like Lando . . . But he had to have a ship of his own. And he could think of no other way to get the credits to buy one. Han paused outside Okanors door to take a deep breath. Here goes nothing . . . Then, clutching his hopes and dreams in a sweaty hand, he opened the door and walked in . . .

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