Star Wars - The Han Solo Trilogy - Hutt Gambit, page 13
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 hel-
met. 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 myself-
Only 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 pas-
tures 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.
