Star Wars - The Han Solo Trilogy - Hutt Gambit, page 6
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 blaster-
just 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 decisive-
and 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 again-
and... 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.
