“Guess I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Lando admitted. He paused, watching the ice formations of an ancient moon slide past. Then: “Guess it’s true for us organics, too, in a way.”
“It is,” L3 said. “But what I was trying to say was that you pretend not to care about all the stuff I’m always blabbering about—we joke about it and you roll your eyes—but you do care, Lando Calrissian. I know you do. So you don’t have to say it. You show it, and that’s more important. Most important.”
“Well,” Lando said, and then he stopped because he realized he had no idea what to say to that. She was right, of course, but once again L3 had put words to something Lando had always kind of sensed but never really figured out how to say. Anyway, actions mattered more, right? So he just nodded and slid the Falcon through another slowly spinning cluster of the Remnants—and then laserfire lit the sky ahead like a deep-space lightning storm and the dull rumble of an exploding starfighter reached them.
“Here we go,” Lando said.
“Stay close to the Remnants,” L3 advised. “Better if we get a lock on what’s going on rather than go in shooting.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
Lando cut the engines and banked behind one of the larger shards. Farther out in the ice field, laser fire sliced back and forth through the darkness. Lando counted four TIEs plus the shuttle. The remains of two others were slowly dispersing through the Remnants amid plumes of smoke.
Lando squinted through the cockpit viewport. “I can’t…what are they shooting at?”
“There’s no ship on the scanner,” L3 reported. “But—”
“There!” Something dashed between two spinning ice asteroids: the space-suited figure that had escaped the chamber. Blasterfire raged out from each hand as he emerged again, clipping the wing of one of the TIEs. The TIE spun wildly and then regained control, but by the time it returned fire, the figure was gone. “This cat is…not playing around,” Lando said.
Two of the TIEs swung to the side in a bid to flank the mysterious figure. Both reeled suddenly backward as a series of small, squirming shapes flew toward them and clamped onto their windows and wings.
“What are those?” Lando asked.
L3 tapped something into the navicomputer, checked the sensor screen, looked up slowly. Lando heard her single eye fixture whir as it narrowed on the two flailing TIEs. “Droids,” she said finally. “Kind of.”
“Kind of? What in the stars?”
“I’d tell you to get closer, but that’s not what we’re here for.”
“I mean, I’m glad to hear it, but what are we here for, if not—”
“That!” L3 yelled, pointing at something blipping a slow trajectory a few klicks away from them on the sensor screen.
Lando quirked an eyebrow. “That? It looks…small.”
“It is, and no, I don’t know what it is. But it’s what all this fuss is over. And it’s what Deenine was tracking for me.”
For me. L3 really did have a whole other life that Lando had basically no concept of, a network of like-minded droids, he was beginning to realize.
One of the TIE fighters let out a splatter of fire, spinning out of control, and then crashed into the other. Both exploded, their charred, shattered shells falling away. The small, squirming sort-of droids had fluttered off just before the collision and now were working their way back to where the figure waited on top of an ice shard. When they reached him, he turned to the last remaining TIE and the shuttle, then blasted directly at them, firing his hand cannons one by one in quick succession. The small objects hurtled into space alongside him; three peeled off almost immediately and flew at the TIE as the figure made straight for the shuttle with the other four.
“It’s coming,” L3 said. “Should be in sight within…there!” She pointed a long steel finger out past the Remnants.
The figure had somehow ducked and dodged around the Imperial shuttle’s barrage of forward cannon fire and now was standing on its cockpit, shooting directly down with both blasters. Then he looked suddenly up and away, directly at the tiny object hurtling through the distance.
“Go!” L3 yelled. “Go!”
Lando hit the thrusters and the Falcon tore out from behind the ice shard. The figure spun around, glaring at them as they roared past. Lando made out a long, Pau’an face through the visor, eyes narrowed to wrathful slits.
“Faster,” L3 urged.
“Don’t worry.” Lando chuckled. “That guy might’ve just taken out a whole squad of TIEs all by himself but no jetpack can outrun the Fa—” Something smacked against the cockpit windscreen with a wet, metallic clank and stayed there, squirming. Lando grunted, narrowing his eyes. Whatever that thing was, it wasn’t going to startle him off course like it had the Imperials. “El, see if you can—”
“Already on it,” L3 muttered, hands flying across the control panels.
What is it, though? Lando glanced quickly enough to see a festering pink tentacle writhe against the glass within a metallic frame. Six robotic legs locked onto the Falcon’s viewport, and tiny, organic tendrils snaked through them.
“What in the mutant cyborg creature hell?” Lando yelled. He forced his attention back to the object they were hurtling toward. “Get rid of that thing, El!”
“Working…on…it…” L3 said. “But it’s already accessed the…” The Falcon sputtered and veered suddenly to the side, engines fizzling then restarting.
“Ah!” Lando yelled.
“…navicomputers,” L3 finished. “Hang on, let me see if I can override.”
Panic seized Lando Calrissian. It wasn’t a feeling he was deeply familiar with, and that made it all the worse. “What’s happening?”
Still veering and sputtering, the Falcon rocked suddenly forward. “We’re taking fire,” Lando said. “What’s out there? I need my steering and engines back now, El!”
L3’s hands flew desperately across the control panels. “Coming in three, two…” The engines roared to life and the Falcon jolted forward. Lando pulled hard to the side, barely missing a floating ice shard, and then settled back into his trajectory and gunned it.
The strange, half-droid creature still writhed on the windscreen, but it seemed to be panicking now, tendrils and metal legs squirming even faster. A blast of something hurled past them from behind; that jetpacked maniac was still on their tail. Imagine, an entire ship running away from a single man. Lando hated it, but he knew that it was no ordinary adversary. And anyway, the Falcon was compromised. They’d have to sort that out before they could go head-to-head with that fool and wipe him out for good.
“That thing incapacitated our landing gear, navicomp, and tractor beam,” L3 reported.
Lando seethed. “Well, what are we—”
“Be quiet and listen for a second,” L3 snapped. “Just get me close enough that I can get a read on it. That’s all you need to do. Then make the jump.”
For a few seconds, Lando let the silence between them grow long. Then the Falcon shook with another explosion. “Whatever that guy’s blasting us with,” Lando said, “rear shields aren’t going to be able to take much more of it.”
“Affirmative,” L3 said. “Just get us to that device. I’ll see if I can keep him busy.” She clicked the top cannon into service and released a scatter spray of fire. Then the blasts splayed a wild arc ahead of them.
“What are you—” Lando started. “Oh.” The contraption had sliced into their artillery computers, too.
“I’m going out there,” L3 said, standing and making her way out of the cockpit before Lando could stop her.
“El,” he called. “Be careful!”
A few seconds of scattered laserfire and the roaring engines passed. The shards of ice swung by and another explosion rocked the rear shields, this one smaller than the others. Up ahead, the object gradually beca
me more than a dot. It was tiny, though, whatever it was. The tentacle writhed and squirted some kind of ichor within its metallic casing, and Lando resisted the urge to punch the windscreen to see if it’d flinch. And then L3 appeared, appendages clamped magnetically to the side of the Falcon, her whole body leaning into the rush of space around her. She raised one arm and immediately was tugged backward by the sheer press of their thundering velocity. Lando cooled the thrusters slightly and almost immediately got rocked by another blast from behind.
The shields were one more hit away from gone.
L3 steadied herself. Leaned forward. Stretched one arm, bracing herself this time.
A bolt of blue electricity fizzled forth from her hand, wrapping around the tentacled droid beast. It shook, lighting up the whole cockpit with a flare of blue as that gooey liquid conducted L3’s shock all through its core. The organic parts trembled and then turned a crusty brown as smoke plumed off it.
L3 leaned back just as the thing released its grip and was whisked off into space. “Yes!” Lando yelled, slamming the thrusters back on and tearing forward.
“Get me to it,” L3 yelled through the comm.
Lando nodded, pressing harder. Another blast reached him, but it was a small one; the shield held.
They were coming up on the device. Lando swung to the side in a wide arc and then looped toward it, slowing. L3 leaned all the way out, arms stretched.
The device was somewhat bigger than Lando had thought, about the size of a speeder, and it looked to be crafted from a hodgepodge of different droid and starship parts, like some kind of floating junk craft. But there was a certain sharp geometry to it; someone had created it with precision and intentionality, not just thrown a bunch of detritus into a pile and set it adrift.
The Falcon jolted as Lando slowed toward the device. That jetpacked Pau’an fool was still blasting toward them, letting off shot after shot from his hand cannons.
“Almost there,” L3 said. “Just a little…closer.”
Lando inched forward, veering slightly to position L3 just beside the device. Two more hits slammed into the Falcon’s side compartments. “Come on,” Lando whispered. “Come onnnn…”
L3 stretched out both arms and lifted her face so that single eye aligned directly with the device. “Got it!” she yelled.
“Great! Now get back in and let’s blast out of here!”
L3 disappeared and Lando swung the laser cannons around and let loose on the approaching figure.
The bugger was fast, though. He nimbly swerved back and forth and then zipped up and out of sight.
Lando checked the sensor screen. Nothing.
The cockpit door slid open and L3 burst in. “Let’s go!” she yelled.
Didn’t have to tell Lando twice. He pulled down the hyperdrive lever, laid a spray of fire out around them just in case, and then burst into hyperspace.
“THAT WAS HIM!” LANDO YELLED, careening up the circular stairwell to the cockpit.
“What was who?” Han demanded, climbing down the ladder from his gunport.
“What even just happened?” Taka wailed. Out in space, the two fiery husks were still hemorrhaging debris into the atmosphere. The impact had caused both fleets to pause in their attacks and take stock, so that was something.
“Fyzen Gor,” Lando said. “Fyzen Gor. The guy in the space suit that jettisoned off just before the Destrobar blew!”
Han crossed his arms over his chest and tilted up his chin. “And how,” he said very slowly, “exactly do you know what Fyzen Gor’s space suit looks like?”
“Don’t make things complicated,” Lando growled. “We gotta go after him! We…I…”
Han held up a hand. “How…exactly…do you know…what Fyzen Gor’s space suit…looks like?”
Taka and Han were both staring at Lando now. “Listen.” He put both hands up, palms out, and tilted his head with a wry chuckle. “Listen.”
“Oh, we’re listening,” Han said. “Aren’t we, Taka?”
“All ears, as the Kowakian monkey-lizards say.”
“It’s that…” For the second time that day, Lando was at a loss for words. His least favorite way to be.
Han spared him the trouble. “I’ll tell you what it is: It’s that you had a run-in with Gor, too.”
“I…”
“While the Falcon was with you, I’m guessing.”
“Look.”
“No, you look.” Han put his finger up in Lando’s face. Lando considered breaking it, decided he might need that particular finger’s help at some point soon, stepped back instead. “You just up and decided this was all my fault,” Han continued, “without even bothering to reveal that you yourself had seen this guy, dealt with him, probably dealt with the damn Phylanx itself before.”
“I didn’t know what it was at the time!” Lando protested. “I barely saw it at all. I figured it out later, when we were putting all the pieces together!”
“I bet you did!” Han took another step forward. Behind Lando, the stairway spiraled down into the gunner port. It would be a messy fall, especially with a cape on.
“Guys, guys,” Taka said, getting between them. “Easy.”
“No easy,” Han scowled. “This guy almost broke my nose, which would’ve made the second time my nose got broken over this damn Phylanx, by the way. And now it turns out he’s just as much to blame for this mess as I am.”
“That’s a damn lie,” Lando yelled. “Gor came looking for the owner of the ship that stole his little toy. I barely got close enough to see the thing clearly. Never got my hands on it. You’re the one he was looking for!”
“So it’s my fault because I’m a better thief than you?”
“You decided to leave my name on the Falcon registration when you cheated to take it off my hands!”
“Cheated!” Han scoffed. “That’s rich, coming from the guy who—” He stopped, looked around. “Why are we moving?”
They all turned to look out the cockpit viewport. They were indeed gliding quickly toward the New Republic flagship.
“Taka?” Lando said.
Taka was already at the pilot’s station, scrabbling at the buttons. “Uh…bad news.”
Han and Lando put their hands on their hips at the same time, then Lando quickly crossed his over his chest.
“The Tribulan Vort has us in their tractor beam.”
“We gathered that,” Han said. “Can you get us out of it?”
“Fine way to treat the crew that just saved their asses,” Lando grumbled.
Taka was still pressing buttons frantically. “I don’t…think so…at least not without starting another galactic incident. They’ve stopped pulling us in, though; now they’re just keeping us from bolting. So that’s…something.”
Lando glanced at Han. “You and I better costume up. Tell the others to get into the hidden smuggler hold.”
“There are chemical protection suits under the bench in the cargo bay,” Taka said.
Han squinted one eye at Lando, then the other. “To be continued,” he snarled, then walked out.
“You bet your ass,” Lando snapped at the closing door, although he sincerely hoped it wouldn’t be.
“They’re hailing us,” Taka said.
Lando came up beside them and gazed out at the approaching star cruiser. “I don’t like this, Taka.”
“Greetings, Vermillion,” Captain Krull’s monotone droned over the comms.
Outside the cockpit viewport, a medium-sized transport detached from the Tribulan Vort and headed toward them.
That, Lando thought, was a ship. Its sleek, aerodynamic design meant it was probably recently built, one of the new Trivault Corp models probably, and the whole thing just gleamed. The long cockpit stretched ahead of its half-moon body, like a bigger, slicker version of the ship Sana
Starros rolled around the galaxy in. “The New Republic appreciates your service, and would like to inquire about your actual designation and exact cargo.”
“Really?” Taka muttered. “The whole New Republic?”
“Pardon me?”
“Nothing,” Taka said. “As stated, we are the transport ship Vermillion and were tasked with retrieving sensitive material from the prison moon.”
“And chemical weapons,” Lando added.
“Of course,” Captain Krull chortled. Lando could almost hear the false pleasantries snap out of his voice. “We are approaching with a landing party in the shuttle ship Chevalier. Prepare to be boarded.”
“You didn’t really give us much choice,” Taka said.
“And please don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be,” the captain added. “The pirated vessels have surrendered now that their two largest warships destroyed each other. We’d hate to have any more unnecessary carnage today.”
The Vermillion shuddered as the Chevalier eased up against it and the two air locks clicked into place.
“This won’t be one we can just shoot our way out of,” Han muttered, walking back in with a full chem protection suit on. He handed Lando and Taka theirs.
Lando narrowed his eyes at Han. “That’s never stopped you from trying before. Why don’t you let me do the talking this time?”
Han looked offended even through three layers of antichem radium-proof fiber and a tinted breathing mask. “I’m a good talker!”
“And I’m a freshly shaved bantha,” Lando said, suiting up. “Everyone else safely stashed away?”
Han nodded. “Had to wake up the little pig guy, Plork or whatever, and it took some, er, encouragement, but they’re all below, yeah. Your girlfriend looks like she’s ready to blast her way out, too, not for nothing.”
“Girlfriend?” Taka said, zipping up the last layer of suit and adjusting their goggles.
Last Shot Page 18
