“How could I when—”
Aro narrowed his eyes and ran three fingers down his long snout pensively. “You two gentlemen look like you might be interested in investing in some property.”
Han blinked at him. “On a prison planet?”
“One”—Aro held up a single finger—“it’s a moon. Two”—and another—“it’s mostly been evacuated, or haven’t you heard? And C, it’s about to be a war zone, and everyone knows post-conflict areas are a buyer’s market. Get me?”
Chewie growled.
“I mean look at the housing explosion on Naboo post-TradeFed-conflict. No pun intended, ha. It’s been what? Thirty years and I still can’t find a flat. Why do you think I’m on this damn moon? Anyway, invest now, thank me later, right?”
“Aren’t you a security guard?” Han said.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Aro whispered.
Han looked iffy.
“I hate this job—hate it. I hate the creepy imperial-slobbering security force guys that run the place. I hate the idea of making a whole moon a prison. I literally get a rash on the back of my neck when I just think about coming to work.
“Okay, that’s—”
“And anyway, gotta have a long game, though, you know? Otherwise what’s the point of these big ol’ eyestalks, hahaha…” The Gungan erupted into a squeaky chuckle, then sighed. “But yeah, how can I help you?”
“We, uh…” Han’s whole cover story slipped right out of his head.
“Fazeeen!” Peekpa yipped.
Aro cocked an eyebrow at her. “Oh, really?”
Peekpa went into a lengthy explanation that Han could only hope made sense and didn’t completely blow their cover. He looked at Chewie, who just stood there nodding sagely.
“Oh, say no more!” Aro said suddenly. “I completely understand. And may I say, Miss Peekpa, thank you, for all you do. It is…it’s an honor to meet you, sincerely. If you would just follow me, I will escort you to the area you will need to be in to facilitate this research.” The Gungan marched off down a corridor, Ewok scrambling along in his wake. Han and Chewie exchanged a puzzled glance, shrugged, and followed along.
HAN AND CHEWIE SAT ACROSS from each other at the dejarik board, waiting for Sana to come back with whatever ace in the hole she thought she had.
“Think she likes me?” Han asked, idly maneuvering the hulking Kintan strider across the squares.
Chewie shook his head and released a growl of extreme fed-up-ness.
Han looked shocked. “Really? Not even a little?”
The strider picked up Chewie’s ghhhk and easily thrashed it, then tore it to pieces. Chewie got up in Han’s face and let out four short snarls.
“Okay, fine,” Han said. “Not even a little. That’s your opinion and you’re welcome to it. I, on the other hand, think maybe she’s kind of into me.”
Chewie put his face into his hands and groaned.
“All right, boys,” Sana said, walking back in with the package she’d been cradling when she barged through Maz’s place earlier. “You ready for this?”
“Probably not,” Han said, clicking off the dejarik board. All the tiny, snarling holos disappeared.
Sana placed the package on the table. A muffled yelp could be heard from inside, along with furious knocking.
Chewie stood up and stepped back, eyes narrowed.
Han gaped. “What’s in there?”
“He’s a who not a what,” Sana said. “And it’s Mozeen Parapa, head of the Parapa Cartel.”
She opened the lid. A tiny gray-green creature with a wide head, big yellow eyes, and long skinny arms blinked up at them. “Fazanaa mok’aks!” it yelped in a high-pitched squeal.
Chewie barked.
“That’s Mozeen Parapa?”
“Theee whan an’ onally,” Mozeen snarled. “An’ I woohd advhise shoo to let me free theese inztand!”
“Ah,” Han said. “Mr. Parapa, we mean you no disrespect, we simply—”
“No deezreezpect?” The tiny gangster put all four fists on his hips and chortled mightily. “I am leeterally een a box, youah bogwing lowlife!”
Han looked at Sana with a mix of horror and awe. “You kidnapped the crime lord Mozeen Parapa and brought him on my ship and you didn’t tell me?”
Sana batted her eyelashes. “Kidnapped is such a strong word.”
Mozeen spun around, saw Sana, gasped.
“Borrowed?” Sana suggested. “I like borrowed.”
“Mazamozella bella ala galaxinus saveeeeeen!” Mozeen crooned with an elegant bow. “I was also wohrreed that they capchoored youah tooah, my belle.”
Han blinked at Sana. “My belle.”
“Thank you, Mr. Parapa,” Sana said. “I am safe, fortunately. But we still need the information I was asking about on our…when we met up.”
“On ourwa date!” Mozeen pronounced. “Thee leetle beezbubs asinging thayre smol songs ofah thee night, yes? The lahvely symphony ahf thee Takodana forests, mmmm, andah some wine andah a beautiful awoman, mmm.”
“It was lovely, yes. However—”
“No!” Mozeen insisted.
“Hm?”
“Not ajust a beautiful awoman. No! Thee!” He shoved a long finger up at Sana. “Amost! Abeautiful! Awoman!” He glanced around at Han and Chewie as if to confirm. “Ina thee galaxyyyah!”
Chewie and Han both rolled their eyes and groaned.
“That’s very sweet,” Sana said.
“Can we—” Han started.
Mozeen spun to face him. “Ayouh! Keednapped the me and the my belle, anda here we areah on ayour spazaship! Youah don’ get to interruptah! Clear, you ratmonkey turd?”
“Hey,” Sana snapped. “No need to be rude. He didn’t kidnap us, he’s my partner. We had to get out of there safely because the bounty hunters attacked. We just need to know where your people’s last read on the Phylanx was, and then you can be on your way.”
“This is insanity,” Han said.
“Anawhat makes youah think we knowawhere theese Phylanxa is, hm?”
“The Parapa Cartel tech-lords are supposed to be second to none,” Sana said. “Surely you’d been tracking it.”
“Ah well.” Mozeen acknowledged the compliment with a magnanimous shrug. “Thees I assappose ees the truah, yes. But why, then, for shood I tell ayouah.” He pointed a tiny finger at Han.
Han smiled. “Because you’re in a box, Mr. Parapa. And no one knows we have you except the Empire, and they don’t care.”
“Halfwit! Youah haf no idea wha—”
“Chewie,” Han said. “Open the air lock.”
Chewie stood.
“Ay ay ay!” Mozeen yelped. “Yes, yes, the eenformation, yes. An what weel youah geeve to the me for this?”
“Besides not air-locking you?” Han said.
“Zometheeng that wooahd amake me lezz compellad to hunt youah an’ theese a Wookiee down an destroy evarytheeng youah love when theese ees ovar, yes?”
“Oh, that,” Han said.
“None of this is good,” Sana muttered.
“Acorrecta!” Mozeen announced.
Sana glared at Han. “A word.”
“But of course. Chewie, watch him please.”
Chewie grumbled.
“We gotta show a unified front,” Sana chided as soon as they’d turned into the corridor leading to the cockpit. “You’re not so good at that.”
“I’m better at being unified when the person I’m supposed to be unified with lets me know what the plan is before they kidnap tiny, super-powerful crime lords and bring them on my ship.”
“Han.”
“I thought we were doing a good cop bad cop thing. No?”
“Han, do you have any idea what the Parapa Cartel will do to us if—”
“And how would they know, Sana? None of this is traceable.”
“You said it yourself: The Empire knows exactly who has Mozeen. I would imagine that information is about to become very, very valuable if it isn’t already. Do you really think they’ll keep their big Imperial mouths shut?”
“Well, what do you want me to do? We all already have prices on our heads. What’s a few more credits on there? Especially if it gets us the info we need…”
“Look, you’re bringing more trouble than any of us asked for. And coming from me, that’s saying a lot. Let me…let’s just take it down a notch, okay, Han?” She headed back to the main compartment, shutting down any rebuttal he might have.
Imagine! This woman was even more reckless than Han was. It was pretty attractive, he had to admit. If they made it out of this alive it would be, anyway.
“Mr. Parapa,” Sana said.
The tiny gangster looked up, eyes narrowed. “Hm?”
“Wherever you tell us this last tracked location of the Phylanx is, I’m sure you have your guys there already, yes?”
Mozeen shrugged. “Perchapss.”
“We will bring you there, deliver you to your crew.”
“I ahm leestening.”
“And—”
“An feevteens ahv thee porcent ahv the Phylanx bounty eef youah find eet.”
“Three percent,” Sana said before Han could speak.
Mozeen turned up his chin. “Ten.”
“Five.”
“Zeven. Final ahffer.”
“Done.”
Chewie growled and Han exhaled.
“My tech-masters tracked thee signal toah Freerago’s.”
Chewie leaned forward, mouth slightly open.
“The diner orbiting Hosnian Prime?” Han asked. “That seems…random.”
“Whoever has the Phylanx must be holed up there to keep a low profile and plot their next move,” Sana said. “We can stake it out in shifts.”
Chewie roared enthusiastically.
“Not that kind of steak, Chewie,” Han snapped. “Is that all you think about?”
Sana rubbed her eyes. “Oh boy.”
“You make a good point, though. Freerago’s sirloin cuts are second to none.” He looked at Sana, who was already rolling her eyes. “All right, we’re in.”
“THING IS,” ARO SAID TO no one in particular. “The Naboo still don’t really know anything about us Gungans, if we’re being honest. I mean, yay, peace treaty and all that, we kicked out the evil Trade Federation, but still, here we are almost forty years later and still a totally divided world except for a few notable exceptions and they’re annoying, to be frank. Blah blah blah unity, ya know?”
They walked in single file down a narrow corridor. No one seemed to know who the Gungan was talking to, so no one bothered answering.
“Freepalapala?” Peekpa asked.
“Should be just around this corner,” Aro said.
Han looked back at Chewie, who shrugged. There was no way to know if they were being led into a trap, but even if they were, there wasn’t much they could do about it at this point.
“Behold,” Aro announced, opening a door and escorting everyone inside. “The Grimdock Archive!”
“Wow,” Han said. It was simply a gray, empty room with an input port at the far wall.
“Go to town,” Aro said. “I’ll be down the hall if you need anything.” And then he was gone.
Peekpa took a small keyboard out of her leather pouch and plugged it into the port, then pulled a pair of visogoggles over her fuzzy face and whispered what sounded like a prayer.
“Let’s hope she’s as good as Kyl said she was,” Han muttered.
The Ewok clacked away for a few minutes, then turned to Han. “Fazwakreemo Phylanx Redux Transmitter, safaka?”
“Yes,” Han said. “Phylanx Redux Transmitter is what we’re looking for info about.”
“Safaka,” Peekpa said with a satisfied nod. She turned back to her keyboard.
“And Fyzen Gor. He was a prisoner here. Or still is…”
“Safaka,” Peekpa said again, clacking away.
Chewie and Han exchanged a look.
A few seconds later, red lights pulsed in the corridor outside. “Hoo boy,” Han said. “That can’t be good.” He and Chewie drew their weapons. “You almost done, Peekpa?”
“Paka paka,” Peekpa chirped.
“Great,” Han said. “Appreciate the update.”
Chewie glanced out into the hallway, roared a curious Arrooh?
“The Gungan?” Han said. “What does he want?”
Aro N’cookaala strode down the hallway with both hands up in the air. “I come in peace and all that,” he said, turning into the room and closing the door behind him.
He tapped a combination on the keypad beside the door, and the red lights stopped pulsing. “Soooo…”
“Spit it out,” Han said.
“Turns out you all were after something a leeetle more interesting than a routine inspection.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Han said.
“Sure, buddy. Your Ewok here triggered a high-security breach protocol.”
“Way to go, Peekpa.”
Without taking her eyes off the datapad, Peekpa launched into a squeaky tirade in reply.
Aro shook his head. “And now there’s a team of fully armed Sef Con goons asking a bunch of questions over at the front desk. And they look mad.”
“What are Sef Cons?” Han asked.
Peekpa broke off her curses and switched suddenly into a more teacherly voice: “Chubba chubba private security force.”
Chewie howled and Han grimaced. “Great.”
“Yes, they’re extremely unpleasant,” Aro added. “Former elite assault team stormtroopers, the lot of them.”
“What? Didn’t—”
“Magernon granted them a general amnesty after Jakku and hired them. They’ve been irritating me ever since.”
Han glanced at Chewie. “This’ll be just like old times then, huh.”
“Hopefully, we can avoid a situation where you have to blast your way out of here,” Aro said calmly. “I am, after all, responsible for the security of all the entities in Administrative Sector 7-C of Grimdock, and that includes you lot. Allow me to see what I can do.”
Han shot the Gungan a sideways glance. “All right, Aro. But if this starts to smell traplike, you’ll be the first to know by way of a blaster shot. Clear?”
Aro rolled his eyes. “Abundantly.”
Loud boot steps clomped toward them as Aro slipped back into the corridor and closed the door.
“None of this is good,” Han whispered. “Wrap it up, Peekpa!”
“Safaka!” Peekpa grumbled irritably.
“Gentlebeings,” Aro could be heard saying on the other side of the door. “It seems there’s been a terrible misunderstanding.”
“Lock it up, meesa meesa, and get out of the way,” a gruff voice responded.
“Actually no,” the Gungan replied. “How ’bout you lock it up?”
It sounded like a sincere question, but then blasterfire rang out in the corridor and the Sef Con guy screamed.
Han cocked his head at Chewie. The Wookiee shrugged.
“What are you—” another voice yelled before more blasterfire erupted. And then more as another yell came from farther away.
Han and Chewie aimed at the door as it opened. Aro’s smiling face appeared. “I’ve been waiting to do that for a looong time!”
“You said—” Han started.
“I said hopefully, we can avoid a situation where you have to blast your way out of here. Didn’t say anything about avoiding one where I blast my way out.”
“Thanks?”
; The Gungan waved his hand. “Nothing. Just drop me off with one of the NR ships hovering off base and we’ll be straight. Oh, and we should probably make tracks. I tried to blast ’em all before they could send a distress transmission but you know how these slow-to-die troopers love getting off one last message before they croak.”
“Freegraka!” Peekpa squealed triumphantly. She unplugged the datapad, whirled around to Han, Chewie, and Aro, and took an elaborate bow. “Fringa data moshvee!”
The telltale clink clink of a thermal detonator echoed in the corridor outside. “Get down!” Han yelled, throwing himself to the far corner. Aro barrel-rolled in, slamming the door just as a huge explosion rocked the hallway. Blaster shots sounded.
“What did I tell you?” Aro said, shaking his head. “There’s always more of ’em.” He drew his blaster and shucked it into ready position.
“Chewie,” Han said. “Grab Peekpa. We’re gonna have to move fast, and those adorable little Ewok legs aren’t gonna cut it.”
Peekpa opened another stream of curses but got quiet when the Wookiee tucked her under his big furry arm.
“Frapapa,” she muttered contentedly.
Han looked at his motley crew. “Let’s move.”
“I DON’T LIKE ANY OF this,” Lando said. L3 just watched silently as the Millennium Falcon flew a slow, graceful trajectory out from behind the ice asteroid toward the single hovering TIE fighter. Behind the TIE, the strange metal chamber floated like a rusty, deactivated satellite.
“Freighter,” a scratchy voice demanded over the comm. “Identify yourself and state your business or you’ll be destroyed.”
“Just a little closer,” Lando snarled. “Come on.”
“We are the Millennium Falcon,” L3 said into the comm. “On a routine shipping run. We seem to have run slightly off course.”
“Seems so,” came the gruff reply. “Turn around and be on your way instantly. This is a restricted sector.”
“We are simply proceeding to our next destination,” L3 said as they slid closer and closer. “There’s no need to get testy.”
“Testy! Why, you—”
“The TIE is in range,” L3 said.
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