Crucible: Star Wars

by Troy Denning

  The Qrephs had anticipated them again.

  Or maybe they had help from a spy inside Lando’s inner circle.

  Han moved his two antes for the next game into the appropriate pots, then glanced over at Dena and found her studying Gev with a furrowed brow. Gev might know who Dena was, but he didn’t think the reverse was true. Besides, Dena hadn’t even been told they would be going to the Blue Star instead of the Durelium Palace. The only thing she knew about Han’s plan was that they were on Valnoos to find Tharston’s contact.

  He leaned close to Dena’s ear, then asked, “What do you think? Ever see her talking to Tharston at the Palace?”

  “No,” she said. “But I only came to Valnoos with him once.”

  Han frowned. “Then how do you know he always went to the Durelium Palace?”

  Dena rolled her eyes at him. “How do you think, Captain? Sometimes we actually talked.” She paused, then, almost as an afterthought, added, “And he brought home souvenirs marked with the Palace’s three ingots—hats, drink tumblers, even a sabacc deck. Trust me, Tharston went there a lot.”

  The explanation seemed reasonable enough that Han began to think he was being overly suspicious. Luke and Leia were convinced that Dena was hiding something. But even Han could see she felt bad about what her lover had done, and that alone might have been enough to explain the guilt the two Jedi were sensing in her Force presence.

  Then a big man dressed in the pale-blue tabard of a Blue Star security guard stepped up. In his hands, he held a large white handbag that matched Dena’s white gown.

  “Excuse me, Chief Yus,” he said. “But I was asked to return your bag. Another guest found it in the females’ lounge.”

  Dena’s eyes widened in surprise, but only for an instant, then she smiled and said, “Thank you. I didn’t even realize I’d left it.” She took the purse and placed it in her lap. “I’ll have to keep a closer watch on it.”

  Had Dena been the kind of woman who carried a big handbag, Han might not have found the exchange so suspicious. But she had not been carrying this bag when they arrived. He was sure of it. She had been carrying a tiny satchel, which was now nowhere to be seen. Maybe she had left a purse in the refresher, but it wasn’t this one.

  By the time the guard left the table, Han’s first two chip-cards had arrived. He tipped them up and saw a nine of sabers and a ten of flasks, then looked back toward the observation rail.

  The mix of the crowd had subtly changed. There were more guards at the rail now, and while they wore the standard uniforms of the casino staff, they were all large human males with rugged faces and calloused knuckles. Even more telling, their blue security coats were often too small—sometimes so small they looked more like tunics than tabards.

  No wonder the high rollers hadn’t protested when Gev cut ahead of the line. She was backed by Mandalorians. Han looked around the room and saw that extra guards had been posted at the doors, and there were more quietly slipping into the room. When he glanced at Leia, it was clear she hadn’t missed the new development, either.

  “The bet is to you, Captain Solo,” the Duros said. “It stands at five thousand credits to each pot.”

  Han turned back to find Mirta Gev’s gaze fixed on him, her lip curled into a faint sneer. The only player with two wagers stacked in front of her, she was clearly the person who had opened the betting.

  “Something wrong, Captain Solo?” Gev asked. “In over your head, perhaps?”

  “Not likely, sister.” Before responding to the bet, however, Han turned to the Duros dealer and asked, “Say, when did this place change hands?”

  “I’m sorry, but management has recently asked us not to discuss ownership.” The faintest hint of a smile flashed across the dealer’s noseless face, then he continued, “I hope you understand, Captain.”

  “Sure, no problem,” Han said, understanding exactly why the Duros had used the word recently. In essence, he’d answered Han’s question. It was one of the benefits of being a good tipper: dealers liked to keep him happy—short of cheating, of course. “Thanks anyway.”

  “Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful,” the Duros replied. “Will you be calling the lady’s bet?”

  Han studied Gev’s cool expression, wondering how much of his plan the Qrephs had anticipated—and how much Dena Yus had told them. Yus hadn’t known which casino Han would pick, but she had known they were heading to Valnoos. In fact, she had maneuvered them into it by fingering Tharston as the guy who’d leaked the tractor-beam control codes.

  Han felt like a fool, but what mattered was how much the Qrephs had figured out. Did they realize that Han and his companions weren’t actually trying to capture Tharston’s handler—if such a person even existed? Han’s real objective was to drive a wedge between the two brothers. Had the Qrephs figured that out, too?

  Probably, he decided. They were Columi, after all.

  Fortunately, at the moment, it wasn’t the Qrephs that Han and his companions had to fool—only Mirta Gev. He smiled, then counted out two stacks of wagering tokens.

  “Actually, I’ll be raising … to ten thousand each pot,” Han said. He placed the two stacks on the table in front of him, then looked up at Gev. “What do you say we drive out the weak hands?”

  Gev smiled. “Fine by me.”

  Dena quickly withdrew from the hand, as did the Arconan tug captain seated next to her.

  Gev called Han’s raise, then turned to Lando. “What about you?” she asked. “Are you here to play, Calrissian—or just watch?”

  Lando smiled. “I was about to ask you the same question.”

  He doubled Han’s bet to both pots, drawing a chorus of murmurs from the spectators and forcing the next three players to withdraw. Normally, Han would never call a bet like that with such terrible chip-cards, but winning was hardly the point. He called Lando’s bet, then watched Gev do the same.

  Once the dealer had placed the tokens into the appropriate pots, Gev turned to Lando and said, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you haven’t looked at your hand yet.”

  “You’re not wrong,” Lando said. “Where’s the fun in looking?”

  He nodded to the dealer, who announced, “Lock any chip-cards you want locked.”

  Gev glanced at her cards again, then slid one of them into the stasis field. Both Lando and Han left their cards where they lay.

  Gev gave them an approving smile. “You two like to live dangerously, I see.”

  “Not so dangerous,” Lando said.

  “We’re just playing a different game,” Han added.

  A glimmer of uncertainty flashed through Gev’s eyes. “And what game are you playing?”

  “Odd man out,” Lando said.

  He leaned close to Gev and began to whisper. Though Han could not hear the words, he knew that Lando was asking her to carry an offer to Craitheus Qreph. In return for Craitheus cutting Marvid out of the deal, Lando would agree to a partnership that gave them equal control over the entire Chiloon Rift. The offer came with a threat, too: If Craitheus refused, Lando would call in his markers and go to war against the Qrephs.

  When Lando finished, Gev drew her head away and studied him in open suspicion. “You’re not serious,” she said. “You can’t be.”

  “Actually, I’m desperate,” Lando said. “And desperate men do desperate things. Maybe I’ll even convince my good friend Luewet Wuul that the situation in the Rift is so dire that the Galactic Alliance needs to intervene.”

  The threat sent a disapproving murmur through the crowd—which, after all, consisted mostly of independent tug captains and asteroid hunters who had struck it rich in the Rift. Lando, who always knew when to press a bluff, merely narrowed his eyes and doubled down.

  “Of course, when the Galactic Alliance comes in, the Empire and the Corporate Sector Authority will feel compelled to protect their interests, too.” He leaned toward Gev, then added, “Tell your boss to take the deal, or things will get very messy, very fast.”

&nbs
p; Gev leaned forward, mirroring Lando’s aggressive posture. “Obviously you haven’t heard,” she said. “Luewet Wuul is dead. And so is most of his staff.”

  Lando frowned in disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s very unfortunate. There were explosions on his yacht.” Gev smiled and locked gazes with Lando. “Alliance Security thinks it was probably the work of a disgruntled employee. But he was about to introduce a bill authorizing military action to stop mineral smuggling from the Chiloon Rift, so of course there’s talk of an assassination. Like any politician, Wuul had enemies.”

  Lando was so stunned he actually let his jaw drop. “You killed Luew?” he gasped. “Are you crazy? He—”

  “Maybe Luew is dead,” Han said. It wasn’t like Lando to let anything shake him during a negotiation, and the fact that he was allowing his shock to show made Han worry about what else his friend might let slip. “Or maybe Gev here is just trying to see if you really have pull with the senator.”

  Gev smirked in his direction. “A fine idea, Captain Solo, but I’m afraid the news is true. We heard it this morning.” She turned to the dealer, then added, “I’m sure we weren’t the only ones.”

  “I did hear some gossip,” the Duros said warily, clearly seeing Gev in a dangerous new light. “But you know how unreliable these kinds of rumors can be in the Rift.”

  “Not this one,” Gev said, turning back to Lando. “But whoever killed Senator Wuul, it wasn’t a Mandalorian. We’re mercenaries, not assassins.”

  “I wasn’t aware there’s a difference,” Lando replied. His eyes grew hard again. “But Luew’s death doesn’t change my offer.”

  Gev shrugged. “Maybe not. But you’re a fool if you think Craitheus will even consider it.”

  “And you’re a fool if you think he wouldn’t want to hear it,” Lando replied.

  Gev remained silent for a moment, then her gaze slid toward the two huge pots sitting on the sabacc table. “If I deliver the message, what’s in it for me?”

  Han snorted. “Sorry. There’s business, and then there’s sabacc.” He sneaked a look at his chip-cards and was happy to see that the nine of sabers had changed into a three of staves, giving him a bit more breathing room. “If you want those pots, you’ll have to win them.”

  Gev sighed, then flipped her chip-cards over, revealing an ace of sabers and a mistress of flasks. She had exceeded a score of twenty-three and bombed out.

  “It wasn’t my money anyway.” She pushed her remaining tokens toward the dealer, then said, “Put those back on the voucher, please. I’m done here.”

  The Duros scowled, no doubt unhappy that his game was proceeding in such a disorderly fashion, but reluctantly accepted the tokens and began to count.

  Lando leaned back in his chair and said, “Tell Craitheus he has two days to say yes.”

  Gev rose and studied Lando until the dealer returned her deposit voucher, then said, “Actually, I won’t be the one telling him.”

  Han frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Gev gave him a cold smile. “It means you can tell him yourself, Captain Solo.” She looked toward the observation rail and nodded. “You’re coming with us.”

  Han glanced over and saw six security guards approaching, all with blaster pistols in hand. “What are you, nuts? You think you’re taking me hostage?”

  Gev shook her head. “No, I’m collecting a bounty. The Qrephs put a million credits on you.” She smirked. “I bet it feels like old times for you—but, lucky for me, the Qrephs pay better than Jabba the Hutt.”

  “Come on, you’re kidding, right?” Han glanced at Dena, but she looked as confused as he was. “A million credits? I don’t believe it.”

  “Does it look like I’m kidding?”

  Han eyed the cadre of guards. “Maybe not,” he said. “But a million credits? What for?”

  Gev shrugged. “The Qrephs don’t like you much—or maybe they’re commissioning a carbonite wall hanging.” She motioned for him to stand. “Now, please don’t make me have you blasted. The bounty is only half if I kill you.”

  “Be serious,” Lando said, rising. “You won’t walk out of here alive if you try this. Do you really think we came without backup?”

  “You two have done crazier things,” Gev said. Despite her words, she took the precaution of glancing around. Her gaze passed over the Devaronian and Twi’lek at the nearby table without even pausing. She turned back to Lando with a little smile. “I’ve seen the history vids.”

  Lando’s face grew stormy. “Like I said, try this and you’ll regret it.”

  “I doubt that,” Gev said. “In fact, maybe I should bring you along, too. The Qrephs might give me a bonus.”

  “Not for starting a war, they won’t,” Lando said. “Han’s brother-in-law is the Grand Master of the Jedi Order. And my wife and I own the biggest war-droid manufacturer in the Galactic Alliance.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” Gev said. “Because, so far, I’m not that scared.”

  “You should be,” Lando said evenly. “What do you think happens if we both don’t leave here as free men? It won’t be just the Jedi coming after you and the Qrephs. It will be every YVH war droid my wife can put on a transport and every bounty hunter she can hire. And it will never end.”

  As Lando threatened, Han was looking around, trying to count guards and figure odds. Between the guards with Gev at the table and the others standing at the rail, he counted maybe a dozen guys that looked tough enough to be out-of-armor Mandos—and all of them carried blaster pistols in plain sight. And then there was Dena. Han couldn’t be sure what she had in that big purse of hers, but he knew it couldn’t be good.

  On their side, Han and Lando had Omad Kaeg, who was trying to blend into the now-worried crowd, and Luke and Leia, whose lightsabers were hidden inside scan-shielded pockets in Leia’s fake head-tails. Given two Jedi and the element of surprise, Han felt sure his side could take out Gev and her unarmored thugs—eventually. But at what cost? He and Lando were in a bad spot. They would probably take a dozen blaster bolts apiece, and the odds of surviving that were a little long, even for Han Solo.

  More important, if Luke and Leia revealed themselves too early, Han’s plan would be ruined. The smart play would be to go along now and let the two Jedi rescue him later, inside the hangar. With any luck, they would be able to plant their tracking beacon during the heat of battle and nobody would notice.

  The decision wasn’t even close.

  Han rose and turned to Lando. “It’s okay, buddy. I’ll go with Mirta. The Qrephs are businessmen, after all. We can work something out.”

  Lando scowled. “No, Han. You’re not going anywhere.”

  “Yeah, I am,” Han said, wishing he could put the Force behind his words. “Look around. We’re outnumbered six to one.”

  Lando dropped his gaze, then reluctantly glanced around the tension-filled gaming floor. The fact that he was careful to avoid Luke and Leia told Han that his message had gotten through—that it would be smarter to get the drop on Gev and her thugs later.

  When Lando spoke this time, there was less certainty in his voice. “Han, I can’t let you do this,” he said. “Who knows what they really want with you?”

  “I’ll be okay, Lando. They just want a little leverage against you. And I’m it. They know if they hurt me, they lose the leverage.” Han wasn’t entirely convinced, but he wanted to put Lando at ease. He stepped away from the table, placing himself between two of the big security guards, then looked back over his shoulder. “Tell Leia I’ll see her real soon, okay?”

  Lando bit his lip and dropped his eyes again. “I’ll do that, buddy. No worries.”

  Han swung his gaze toward the adjacent table, where a still-disguised Luke and Leia continued to sit among the other players. He ran a hand over his hair, giving Leia the signal not to intervene. She flicked a fake head-tail in acknowledgment, her expression just shocked and disinterested enough to let Han kno
w she understood what he wanted her to do.

  That was the thing about working with a familiar crew. When the plan went a little astray, a good team improvised.

  Han looked away, then shrugged at the crowd and shot them a quick what can you do smirk. He let the guards take his arms and turn him toward the side exit.

  And that was when Omad Kaeg appeared at the observation rail. The kid pushed forward between two glittery-eyed Arconans dressed in brand-new tabards, then glanced toward the exit. Han gave him a quick headshake and a half grin to show he appreciated the offer.

  Omad furrowed his brow, then glanced toward the exit again. Whether he was confused or simply disagreed, Han could not tell. He scowled and shook his head again, harder.

  Omad nodded and withdrew into the crowd.

  “Smart move,” Gev said, having noticed the exchange. “We wouldn’t want any innocents caught in—”

  Her sentence was cut off by the crash of an expensive roo-wood chair shattering across a pair of shoulders. Han spun toward the sound and was shocked to see Omad Kaeg leaping over the observation rail, one foot planted between the shoulders of a stunned security guard who was already halfway to his knees. Omad drove him the rest of the way to the floor and dropped atop him, then pulled the Mandalorian’s blaster from its holster, rolled, and came up firing.

  A string of blaster bolts screamed past, so close that Han smelled his own singed hair. The hands holding his arms went limp, and both guards crumpled with smoking holes in their heads. In the half second of stunned silence that followed, Han turned to find Omad smirking in his direction, clearly proud of his marksmanship.

  Before Han could ask the kid what part of a headshake he didn’t understand, the rest of the Mandalorians were pouring bolts back at Omad. The kid raised his weapon again, and Han turned to dive for cover.