Star Wars - The Han Solo Trilogy - Hutt Gambit, page 25
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 you-
Iniros body went rigid as he heard a voice in his head-
phones. Mako Spinees voice, garbled by distance and in-
tervening space debris, but still recognizable. First Strike
Element, this is Defender Central. Prepare to-
Iniro 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 so-
Falan 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.
