Star Wars - The Han Solo Trilogy - Hutt Gambit, page 5
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 Tedris-
and 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 people-
Tedris, 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.
