Star Wars - The Han Solo Trilogy - Hutt Gambit, page 20
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 politi-
cian, 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!
