by Brian Daley
Han pulled the end of a case around and broke its seals. Within the crate weapons lay stacked. They had been so treated that no part of them reflected any of the scant light. Han took one up, checked its charge, made sure the safety was on, then handed it to the creature.
The firearm was a carbine-short, lightweight, un-complicated. Like all the others in the shipment, this one was fitted with a simple optical scope, shoulder sling, bipod, and folding bayonet. Though the creature obviously wasnt used to handling an energy weapon, its ready acceptance, grip, and posture showed that it had seen them often enough. It shifted the carbine in its hands, peered down the barrel, and examined the trigger carefully.
Ten cases, a thousand rifles, Han told it, taking up another carbine. He flipped up its butt plate, point-ing out the adapters through which the weapons power pack could be recharged. These were obsolete weapons by current standards, but they had no inter-hal moving parts and were extremely durable, so much so that they could safely be shipped or stor ed without Gel-Coat or other preservative. Any one of these carbines, left leaning against a fern in the jungle, would be fully operable ten years from now. Those advantages would be important on this world, where the carbines new owners would be able to provide lit-fie maintenance.
The creature nodded, understanding how the re-charging worked. We have already stolen small gen-eratom, it told Hah, from the Authority compounds.
We came here because they promised us jobs and a
good life, and we celebrated our good fortune, for our
world is poor. But they worked us like slaves and
would not let us leave. Many of us escaped to live in
the wilds; this world is not unlike our own. Now, with
these weapons, we will be able to fight back-
Stop! Han snarled with a slashing gesture of his hand, and a violence that made the creature recoil. Reining in his temper, he went on, I dont want to hear it, get me? I dont know you, you dont know me.
Its none of my business, so dont tell me/
The large eyes were fixed on him. He looked away. I got half my pay on account when I lifted off. The other half comes when I get out of here, so why dont you just take your stuff and scratch gravel? And dont forget no firing those things until Ive left. An Au-thority ship just might register the noise.
He recalled that advance, paid in glow-pearls, fire nodes, diamonds, nova-crystals, and other precious gems smuggled off this mining planet at terrible risk by whatever sympathizers the contract-slaves had found. Rather than buy their own freedom in a quick dash aboard the Falcon, these fugitives were about to throw themselves into a doomed rebellion against the power of the Corporate Sector Authority. Morons.
He stepped out of the creatures way. It watched him for a moment, then went and piped at the open hatch. Others of its kind came scampering up, crowd-ing around the hatch. Their weapons could be seen now, primitive spear-throwers and blowguns. Some carried daggers of volcanic glass. They had clever hands, all three fingers of which were mutually op-posable. They filed inboard, surrounding the rifle cases and straining to lift them in teams of sixes and sevens. Chewbacca looked at them in amusement. The cases, being borne away down the ramp and into the jungle, reminded Han of some bizarre funeral procession.
Remembering something, he took the solemn leader aside. Does the Authority have a warship stationed here? Big-big ship, with lots of guns?
The creature thought for a moment. One big ship, which carries cargo, carries passengers. It has big guns on it, and meets other ships up in the sky, to load and unload them, sometimes.
Just as Han had thought. He hadnt encountered a true combat vessel, but rather a heavily armed lighter. Bad, but not as bad as hed thought. But the creature wasnt finished. We will need more, it said; more weapons, more help.
Consult your clergyman, Han suggested dryly, helping Chewie replace the deckplates. Or fix up a deal through your own channels, like this run. Im out; you wont see me again. Im just doing business.
The creature cocked its head at him as if trying to understand. Han thrust aside the thought of what life must be like in a forced-labor camp, a driven, joyless existence if ever there was one. That was a common pattern in the Corporate Sector, naive outworlders lured by false promises, signing on only to become prisoners once they reached the compounds. And what could these few fugitives hope to accomplish?
The luck of the draw, he reminded him.uelf. Hits off the Cosmic Deck didnt always make things Right, but Right wouldnt fill an egg timer on Tatooine. You played the cards you got, and Han Solo liked to be on that end of things with the largest profit margin.
But Chewie was staring down at him. Hah sighed; the big lug was a good first mate, but a soft touch.
Well, the tip about the Authority ship was worth some-thing-a hint, maybe, a useful lesson. Han snatched the carbine from the leader irritably.
Just remember this, youre prey. Got me? Youve got to think like prey, and use your brains.
The creature understood and moved closer, standing on tiptoe to see what Han was doing with the carbine.
Its got three settings, see? Safety, single shot, and constant fire. Now, the Security Police here use those riot guns, right? Sawed-off, two-handers? Theyre real fond of using constant fire, because they can afford to waste power, just hosing it around. You cant. What you do is, lock all your carbines on single shot. And if you get into a firefight at night or in the deep jungle where visibilitys poor, shoot at the constant-fire sources. Youll know its none of your people, so it must be Security Police. Youve got to start using your brain.
The creature looked from the man to the carbine and back again. Yes, it assured him, retrieving the weapon, we will remember. Thank you.
Han sniffed, knowing how much they still had to learn. And theyd have to learn it on theft own, or the Authority would grind them under its vast heel And on how many worlds, he asked himself, was the Au-thority doing just that?
His thoughts were interrupted by distant sounds of blaster fire off in the jungle. The creature had moved to the hatch, with its carbine leveled at them. I am sorry, it told them, but we had to test some of the weapons here, now, to make certain they work.
It lowered the carbine and fled down the ramp, heading for the jungle. So much for world-saving. I take it all back, Han said to Chewie as they leaned on the open hatch. They might do all right at that.
Their long-range sensors had been knocked out by the destruction of the Falcons dish antenna on the ap-proach run. The ship would have to make a blind lift-off, taking her chances on running into trouble. Han and Chewbacca stood atop the Falcon for nearly an hour, straining to patch the damaged an-tenna mount. Han didnt begrudge the time; it had been a worthwhile effort and, if nothing else, had given the fugitives time to leave the rendezvous area. Because, sure as stink in a spacesuit, the Falcons lift-off would be plotted and its point of origin thoroughly searched.
They could wait no longer. The first lightening of the sky would bring every flitter, skimmer, and armed gig the local Authority officials could lay hands on, in a tight visual search grid. Chewbacca, sensing Hafts mood, made a snarling comment in his own language.
Hah lowered his maerobmoculars. Correct. Lets raise ship.
They adjourned below, buckled in, and ran through a prefiight-warming up engines, guns, shields. Han declared, Im betting that lighter will be holding low, where his sensors will do him the most good. If we come up any distance away from him, we can outrun him and dive for hyperspace.
Chewbacca yelped. Hail poked him in the ribs. Whats eating you? We just have to play this hand out. He realized he was talking to hear himself. He shut up. The Millennium Falcon lifted, hovering for just a moment as her landing gear retracted. Then Hah tenderly guided her up through the opening in the jungles leafy ceiling.
Sorry, he apologized to his ship, knowing what abuse she was about to take. He fired her up, stood her on her tail, and opened main thrusters wide. The starship screeched away into
the sky, leaving the river steaming and the jungle smoldering. Duroon fell away quickly, and Han began to thlnlc they had the problem licked.
Then the tractor beam hit.
The freighter shook as the powerful, pulling beam fixed on her. High above, the Authority captain had played it smart, knowing he was looking for a faster, more maneuverable foe. Having outwitted the smug-gler, he now brought his ship plummeting down the planets gravity well, picking up enough speed to corn-pensate for any dodge the Falcon might try in her steep climb. The tractor pulled the two ships inexora-bly into alignment.
Shields-forward, all. Angle era, and get set to firel Han and Chewbacca were throwing switches, fighting their controls, struggling desperately to free their ship. In moments it became clear their actions were futile.
Ready to shift all deflectors astern, Hah ordered, bringing his helm over. Itll have to be a staring match, Chewie.
The Wooldees defiant roars shook the cockpit as his partner swung the freighter onto a new course, straight at the enemy vessel. All the FaIcons defensive power was channeled to redouble her forward shields. The Authority ship was coming at them at a frightening rate; the distance between ships evaporated in sec-onds. The Authority lighter, making hits at extreme range, jounced the two around their cockpit but did no major damage.
Hold fire, hold fire, Han chanted under his breath. Well train all batteries aft and kick him go_ ing away. The controls vibrated and fought in their hands as the Falcons engines gave every erg of effort. Deflector shields struggled under a salvo of long-range blaster-cannon fire, lances of yellow-green annihila-tion. The Falcon ascended on a column of blue energy as if she lusted for a fiery double death in collision with her antagonist. Rather than fight the tractor beam, she threw herself toward its source. The Au-thority ship came into visual range and, a moment later, filled the Falcons canopy.
At the last instant, the warships captains nerve gave. The tractor faded as the lighter began a desper-ate evasion maneuver. With reflexes that were more like precoguition, Han threw everything he had into an equally frantic bank. The two ships shields couldnt have left more than a meter or two between them in that blindingly fast near miss.
Chewbacca was already shifting all shields aft. The Falcons main baReties, trained astern, hammered at the Authority vessel at close range. Han scored two hits on the lighter, perhaps no more than superficial damage, but a moral victory after a long, bad night.
The Authority ship rocked. Chewbacca howled, and
Han exulted, Last licksl
The lighter plunged downward, unable to halt her steep dive quickly. The freighter bolted out of Duroons atmospheric envelope, out into the void where she belonged. Far below her, the Authority ves-sel was just beginning to pull out of her dive, all chance of pursuit lost.
Hah fed jump data into the navicomputer as Chew-bacca ran damage checks. Nothing irreparable, the Wookiee decided, but everything would have to have a thorough going-over. But Hah Solo and Chewbacca the Weeklee had their money, their freedom, and, for a wonder, their lives. And that, Han thought, should be enough for anyone, shouldnt it?
The starships raving engines carved a line of blue fire across infinity. Han engaged the hyperdrive. Stars seemed to fall away in all directions as the ship out-raced sluggard Light. The Millennium Falcons main drive boomed, and she disappeared as if shed never been there.
THEY knew theyd be watched, of course, from the moment they docked their battered freighter.
Etti IV was a planet open to general trade, a world where dry winds swept amber, moss-covered plains and shallow, saline seas beneath vermilion skies. It had no remarkable resources in and of itself, but was hospitable to humans and humanolds and occupied a strategic spot on star-routes.
On Etti IV, great wealth had been gathered by lords of the Corporate Sector, and with this wealth had come its universal corollary, a thriving criminal ele-ment. Now, Hah and Chewbacca made their way down a street of fusion-formed soil, between low build-ings of press-bonded minerals and tall ones of perma-cite and shaped formex. They wove through the spaceport toward the Authority Currency Exchange, with the Wooldee guiding a rented repulser-lift hand-truck. On the handtruck were cases resembling strong-boxes, and it was for that reason that the two assumed theyd be watched. The boxes were just the sort of thing to pique the curiosities of assorted criminal types.
But the duo also knew that any watchers would weigh risk against revenue. In the risk column would be Halls gunmans rig and his loose, confident gait, plus Chewbaccas looming presence and ready bow-caster, not to mention the strength and ferocity to twist any attackers body into new and different shapes.
So they went their way in confidence, knowing that, as targets, they would appeal to neither the good busi-ness sense nor the survival instincts of any would-be stickup artist.
The Authority Currency Exchange had no idea it was abetting a transaction involving gunrunning and insurrection. Han and Chewbacca had already man-aged to unload the gems with which theyd been paid, exchanging them for precious metals and rare crystal-line vertexes. In a Corporate Sector encompassing tens of thousands of star systems, the kind of record-keeping that could keep track of every debt and pay-ment was beyond even the most sophisticated data system. So, without a hitch, Hah Solo, tramp freighter captain, smuggler, and freelance law-bender, had con-vetted most of his payment into a nice neat Authority Cash Voucher. If hed had a hat, hed have tipped it to the chirping disbursements auto-clerk that spat the voucher at him. He tucked the little plastic chit into a vest pocket.
When theyd left the Exchange, the Wooldee let out one of his long, hooting barks. Han answered, Yeah, yeah, well pay Ploovo Two-For-One, but first weve got one stop to make.
His sidekick growled loudly, startling bystanders with his displeasure and inviting a dangerous sort of attention. A detachment of Security Police appeared out of the swirl of humans, droids, and nonhumans moving along the street.
Hey, lighten up, pal! Han murmured out of the side of his mouth. The brown-uniformed Security Po-lice, their suspicious eyes darting beneath battle hel-mets, sauntered along four abreast, their weapons held ready, as pedestrians moved quickl! out of their way. Han saw two of the black batfie helmets bob, and knew theyd heard the Wookiees outburst. But the disturbance apparenfiy didnt merit their attention, and the detachment went its way.
Han stared after them, shaking his head. There were all kinds of cops in the galaxy, some of them good, some not. But the Authoritys private Security Police- -Espos, in slangtalk-were among the worst. Their enforcements had nothing to do with law or jus-tice, but only with the edicts of the Corporate Sector Authority. Hah had never been able to figure out what turned a man into an unquestioning Espo bully-boy; he merely tried to insure that he didnt cross trails with any of them.
Remembering Chewbacca, he resumed their conver-sation. Like I say, well pay Ploovo. This stop-off wont take a minute. Well meet him right after, like we planned, square things, and go our way free and clear.
The placated Wooldee carped noncommittally but fell in beside his parmer again.
Because Etti IVs monied classes required conspicu-ous means of demonstrating their wealth, the spaceport harbored several exotic pet stores, featuring rare or unique stock from the immeasurable expanses of the Empire. Sabodors was, by general consensus, the best of them. It was there that Han went.
The stores muting system, expensive as it was, couldnt mask all the scents and sounds of the curious life forms somewhat loosely collected there under the dubious classification Pets. Among the species on dis-play were such premium specimens as the spidery night-gliders of Altarrn, the iridescent-feathered song serpents from the deserts of Proxima Dibals single planet, and the tiny, tubby, clownish marsupials from Kimanan that were commonly called furballs. Cages and cases, tanks and environmental bubbles, teemed with glowing eyes, restless tentacles, clicking chelae, and wobbling pseudopodia.
The proprietor instanfiy appeared, Sabodor himself, a denizen of
Rakrir. His short, segmented, tubular body scuttled along on five pairs of versatile limbs, his two long eyestalks moving and rotating constantly. Seeing the pair, Sabodor rose up on his last two sets of limbs, his uplifted eyestalks reaching nearly to the level of Hans chest, inspecting him from all angles.
Ever so sorry, Sabodors voice twittered from the cantilevered vocal organ located at the center of his midsection. I dont deal in Wookiees. Theyre a sen-tient species; cant use them as pets. Illegal. Ive got no use for a Wooldee.
Chewbacca cut loose with a furious roar, showing his fearsome teeth, stamping a hairy foot the size of a platter. Display racks shook and cases vibrated. Emit-ting a squeal, the terrified Sabodor scooted past Hah, his foremost limbs clapped over his hearing orifices. The pilot tried to calm his big friend, while dozens of pets began chorusing their answering chitters, hums, screams, and tweets, bouncing around their respective confinements in fear and agitation.
Chewy, easyl He didnt mean it, Han soothed, blocking the Wooldee from a violent laying of hands upon the quivering shopkeeper.
Sabodors trembling eyestalks appeared, one to ei-ther side of Hans knees. Tell the Wookiee no offense. An honest mistake, was it not? No insult intended.
Chewbacca quieted somewhat. Han, remembering all the Security Police in port, was grateful. We came in to buy something, he told Sabodor as the proprie-tor rippled away from him in reverse gear. Hear me? Buy.
Buy? Buy! Oh, come, sir, and see-see-see! Any pet
worth having is to be had at Sabodors, best in the
Sector. We have---
Hah had waved him to silence. He laid a friendly hand on the spot where the overwrought little shop-keepers shoulder would have been, if hed had one. Sabodor, Im going to make this transaction easy.
What I want is a Dinko. You have one?
Dinko? Sabodors tiny mouth and olfactory cluster somehow cooperated with his recoiling eyestalks to convey disgust. What for? A Dinko? Revolting, ugh?
Hans mouth tugged in a wry smile. He produced a handful of cash, riffling it invitingly. Got one for me?
