Star Wars - The Han Solo Adventures - Han Solo at Stars End

by Brian Daley

  Can doI Wait right here! Sabodor, undulating ex-citedly, flowed away into a back room. Han and Chewbacca barely had time to gaze around before the proprietor was back. In his upper two pairs of append-ages he held a clear case. Inside was the Dinko.

  Few creatures enjoyed the dubious notoriety ac-corded to Dinkoes, whose temperament came quite close to pure psychopathy. One of the mysteries of the zoological world was how the little terrors tolerated one another long enough to reproduce. Small enough to fit in a mans palm if that man were indiscreet enough to pick it up-the Dinko glowered out at them. Its powerful rear legs moved constantly, and the twin pairs of grasping extremities on its chest pinched the air, longing for something upon which to fasten. Its long tongue flickered in and out between wicked, glit-tery fangs.

  Is it de-scented? Han asked.

  Oh, nol And its been in rut ever since it was trans-shipped. But its been de-venomed. Chewbacca grinned, his black nose wrinkling.

  Han asked, How much?

  Sabodor named an exorbitant sum. Han counted through his sheaf of cash. I11 give you exactly one half that, agreed?

  The eyestalks, flopping about in distress, seemed close to tears. The Wookiee, snorting, leaned down at Sobodor, who shrank again behind the dubious safety of Hans knees. Admit it, Sabodor, Han invited cheerfully, its a good deal.

  You win, waded the proprietor. He proffered the case. The Dinko threw itself from side to side of its container, foaming at the chops.

  One more thing, Han added blithely. I want you to give it a light sedation dosage so I can handle it for a moment. Then you can give it to me in a different box, something opaque.

  That was really two things, but Sabodor agreed de-jectedly, eager to have the Wookiee, the human, and the Dinko all out of his establishment as soon as pos-sible.

  Ploovo Two-For-One, loa n shark and former rob-ber, smash-and-grab man, and bunko-steerer out of the Cron Drift, looked forward with pleasure to collect-ing the outstanding debt from Han Solo.

  He was elated, not only because the original loan would reap a splendid profit for himself and his backers, but also because he thoroughly hated Solo, and an interesting form of revenge had materialized.

  The message from Solo, promising repayment, had stipulated a meeting here on Etfi IV, in the spaeeports most elegant bistro. That had been all right with Ploovo Two-For-One; his creed was that toil and en-joyment should be combined whenever feasible. The Free-Flight Dance Dome was more than satisfactory; it was opulent. Ploovo himself was far from charming, a bad-tempered hulk of a man whose face was subject to a nervous tic; but his income gave him a certain con-spicuous social viability.

  He sprawled onto a conform-lounger at a corner table, joined by the three retainers hed brought along. Two of these were humans, hard-batten men with a number of weapons concealed on and about their per-sons. The third was a Iong-snouted, scaly-skinned bi-ped, native of Davnar II, who possessed a true flair for execution.

  Ploovo, flashing more than enough currency to create an inspired sense of hospitality in the waitress, primped at his black, oily topknot. While he waited, he gloated over his anticipated revenge on Han Solo. Not that the pilot wouldnt repay. The loan shark was certain of getting his money. But Solo had long been an irritant, always ready with some daTzrling evasion of payment, jeering Ploovo and bewildering him at the same time. On a number of occasions Ploovo had lost face with his backers because of run-ms with Solo, and his backers werent the sort to be mused by that. The code of ethics necessary to the conduct of illegal enterprises kept Ploovo from turning in the captain-owner of the Millennium Falcon to the law; neverthe-less, a convenient local circumstance would serve the loan sharks purpose just as well.

  Entering with Chewbacca beside him, a metal case in hand, Han Solo appraised The Free-Flight Dance Dome with a great deal of approval.

  As on almost any civilized planet, many species mixed and mingled here in a taxonomic hodgepodge, their appearance familiar or alien by turns. Having seen about as much of the galaxy as a man might reasonably expect to, Hah still found he couldnt iden-tify half the nonhuman types he saw here. That wasnt unusual. The stars were so many that no one could catalog all the sentient races theyd spawned. Han had lost count of the times hed entered a room like this one, filled with a kaleidoscope of strange shapes, sounds, and odors. Without straining, he could spot a dozen types of respirators and life-support apparatus being used by entities whose biology wasnt compat-ible with standard human atmosphere.

  Han particularly appreciated those human and near-human females dressed in shimmersfiks, chroma-sheaths, and illuminescences. One swept up to him fresh from the bank of coin-games that offered such diversions as Mind-Jam, Senso-Switch, Reflex Races, and Starfight. She was a tall, lithe girl with a wine-dark cast to her skin and hair like plaited silver, wearing a gown that seemed to have been knit from white mist. Welcome down, spaceman, she laughed, throwing an arm around him. How about a turn through the dance dome?

  Han shifted his burden to his other arm as Chew-bacca looked on disapprovingly; several of their less auspicious adventures had begun just this way. Sure? Han responded enthusiastically. Lets dance, lets snuggle up, lets get grafted together? He gently pushed her away. A little later.

  She showed him a truly stunning smilo---to let him know it was nothing personalaand moved on to greet another customer before hed moved out of earshot.

  The Free-Flight Dance Dome was a first-class trough. It was equipped with a top-of-the-line gravity field, its console visible among the bottles, spigots and taps, and other paraphernalia encircled by the bar. The field permitted the management to alter gravity anywhere on the premises, and so the dance floor and the dome over it had become a low-gee acrobatic play-ground in which singles, couples, and groups looped, floated, and spun with effortless grace. Han also spotted individual booths and tables where species from low-gravity worlds were taking their ease in com-fort, the specific gravity of their area having been low-ered for them.

  Han and Chewbacca moved further into the twight of the place, hearing the clink of drinking vessels of many kinds and the interweaving of any number of languages over the blast from the sound system. They breathed in the aromas of diverse inhalants and aero-sols; a profusion of smoke and vapors of various hues, defying the ventilation unit, had drifted by thermo-clines into multicolored strata.

  He had no problem spotting Ploovo Two-For-One; the big glom had found a large table in the corner, the better to watch for his debtor. Han and Chewbacca sauntered over. Ploovo applied a labored, unconvinc-ing smile to his well-upholstered face. Solo, old col-league. Come, sit.

  Spare us the guano, Two-For-One. Han sat down next to Pieeve. Chewbacca slung his bowcaster over his shoulder and took a place across the table so that he and Hah could watch each others backs. Hah set down the box he carried. Ploovos greedy eyes caressed it. Feel free to drool, Hah bade him.

  Now, Solo, Ploovo chided, volubly ready to ignore any insult in the heady presence of money, thats no way to talk to your old benefactor. Ploovo had al-ready been informed by contacts here that these two freighter bums had exchanged a large quantity of ne-gotiables for cash. His hand went for the box. Halls got there first.

  The pilot challenged the loan shark with a raised eyebrow. Your payments in there. With interest. Were quits after this, Pieeve.

  Strangely unperturbed, Ploovo nodded, his topknot jiggling along with his jowls. Han was about to ques-tion this when Chewbaccas warning snarl interrupted. A detail of Security Police had entered The Free-Flight. Some stationed themselves at the doors while the others made their way around the room.

  Han snapped the retaining strap off his holstered blaster. The sound made Ploovo turn. Now, tun, Solo, I swear I had nothing to do with this. We are, as you so recently pointed out, quits. Even I wouldnt pre-sume to turn informer and risk my livelihood. He put a fat, covetous hand on the box. I believe those gen-tlemen in institutional brown are seeking a man who answers your description. While I no l
onger have any interest in your well-being, I suggest that you and your fuzzy comrade absent yourselves from here at once.

  Hah didnt waste time wondering how the Authority had gotten on his tail after hed obtained new registra-tion for the Falcon and identification certificates for himself and Chewbacca. He leaned close to Pieeve, right hand still close to his blaster.

  Why dont we just sit here awhile, colleague? And

  as long as were at it, he addressed Ploovos flunkies,

  you all have my permission to put your hands right

  up on the table here, where Chewie and I can see

  them. Now/

  Ploovos upper lip beaded with sweat. If anyone made a play now, he would certainly become corpse number one. He stuttered an order; his men complied with Hans proposal.

  Compose yourself, Solo, Ploovo implored, though Han was quite serene; it was Ploovos face that had become pasty white. Dont let that, er, renowned temper get the better of you. You and the Weekice can be so irrational at times. Take the occasion when Big Bunji was careless enough to forget to pay you, and you two strafed his pressure dome. He and his staff barely had time to get into their survival suits. Things like that give a man a bad reputation, Solel Ploovo was shaking now, having very nearly forgot-ten his money.

  The Security Police had been circulating. They stopped by the table, two rankers and a sergeant. Their timing couldnt have pleased Ploovo less. Everyone at this table, produce identification. Chewbacca had assumed his most innocent expres-sion, his big, soft blue eyes upturned to the soldiers. He and Han offered their falsified 1Ds. The pilots hand hovered near his weapons grip, even though a shootout now, in this position and at these odds, with the door firmly held by reinforcements, held little promise of survival.

  The Espo sergeant ignored the credentials of Ploovo and his gang. Skimming Halls, he asked, These are correct? Youre the master-owner of that freighter that made planetfall today?

  Hah saw no margin for deception there. And if the Authority had already connected his new persona with events surrounding the illegal landing ell Duroon, he was as good as dead. Still, he managed to look faintly amused and somewhat bewildered by all this interroga-tion.

  The Sunfighter Franchise? Why, yes, Officer. Is anything wrong? Guileless as a newborn, he gazed up at them.

  We got your description from the docking bays su-pervisor, the Security Police sergeant answered. Your ships been impounded. He threw the IDs back on the table. Failure to conform to Authority safety standards.

  Hans mental processes switched tracks. Shes got all her approvals, he objected, thinking he ought to know, having forged them himself.

  The Espo waved that away. Thosere outdated. Your ship fails to meet new standards. The Authority redefined ships performance profiles, and from what I heard, buddy, your freighter violates hers about ten different ways and doesnt appear on the Waivers List. Just on external inspection, they found her lift/mass ratio and armaments rating way out of line for non-military craft. It looks like a lot of radiation shielding got removed when the thruster ducting was chopped and rechanneled. Also, shes got all that irregular dock-ing tackle, augmented defensive shields, heavy-duty acceleration compensators, and a mess of long-range detection gear. Thats some firecracker youve got there.

  Han spread his hands modestly; this was one tune when he didnt feel like boasting about his pride and joy.

  The Espo sergeant went on. See, when you run a hot rig like that, small payload, overmuscled, the Cor-porate Sector Authority starts thinking you might take a notion to do something illegal with it. Shell have to be refitted to original specs; youll have to appear and make arrangements.

  Hah laughed airily. Im positive theres some er-ror. He knew hed been lucky they hadnt forced the locks for an inboard search. If theyd seen the anti-sensor equipment, jamming and countermeasures ap-paratus, and broad-band monitoring outfit, this would have been an arrest party. And what if they had found the contraband compartments?

  Ill drop by the portmasters office as soon as my business is done, Hah promised. He now realized that this was why Ploovo Two-For-One had been so con-tent. The loan shark hadnt even had to violate cruninal protocol or risk his own rank hide going against Hah and Chewbacca; Ploovo had known the Millennium Falcon, under any name, would run afoul of these Authority regulations.

  No good, the Espo sergeant was saying. My or-ders are to escort you down as soon as youre found. The portmaster wants this matter cleared up right away. The Espos were suddenly more alert.

  Hans smile became pained and sympathetic. Plati-tudes of understanding rolled from him. Meanwhile, he considered his dilemma dispassionately. The Authority would want a full accounting of ships papers, log, masters credentials. When those showed discrepancies, thered be a full ID scan pore patterns, retinal and cortical indexes-the whole routine. Eventually, theyd find out who Han and his first mate were, and then the trouble would really start.

  It was axiomatic to Han Solos philosophy that you never go one step closer to jail than necessary. But seated here, he could offer no decent resistance. He shot a glance at Chewbacca, who was amusing himsel/ by showing his teeth to the wary Security Police in a frightening smile. The Wookiee caught Hans look, though. and reclined his head slightly.

  Whereupon the pilot rose. Shah we get this un-pleasantness taken care of, then, Sergeant, so we can all go our way? Chewie shuied away from the table, his attention on Hah, one paw on the sling of his bow-caster. Han leaned down for a last word with Ploovo.

  Thanks for the good time, old colleague. Well get back to you as soon as we can, I promise. And before I forget, heres your payment. He flipped down the bexs front end and stepped back.

  Ploovo dug into the box, expecting to fill his itchy palm with wonderfui, sensuous money. Instead, sharp little fangs clamped down on the fleshy part of his thumb. Ploovo screamed as the enraged Dinko swarmed out and sank its needlelike claws into his pudding of a stomach. Fastened to the Dinkos dorsal vane was the Authority Cash Voucher, Hans thought-ful way of repaying debts both financial and personal with interest.

  The Espos attention switched to the table as the criminal boss howled. One of P1oovos henchmen tried to tear the Dinko off his employer while the others gaped. The Dinko wasnt having any; it slashed the fumbling hands with the serrated spurs on its rear legs, then sprayed everyone at the table with vile squirts from its scent sac. Few things in nature are more repugnant than a Dmkos defensive secretion. Men and humanoid fell back, coughing and gagging, forgetting their boss.

  The Security Police were trying to understand what was happening as beings stumbled from the table, lurching past them, leaving Ploovo to the mercies of the rabid little beast. The Dinko was now trying ener-geficallyif overoptimisticallywto devour him, start-ing with his nose, which rather reminded it of one of its many natural enemies.

  Yahhld Ploovo complained, wrenching at the de-

  termined Dinko. Ged it off of bel

  ChewieI was all Han had time to yell. He punched the nearest Espo, not wanting to shoot at close quarters. The Espo, caught off guard, fell back-ward, thrashing. Chewie did better, picking up the other two by their harnesses and bashing them to-gether helmet to helmet, eliciting a gonging sound from the ultrahard surfaces. Then the Weekice ducked into the crowd with notable agility, following his friend.

  The Espos at the doors were unlimbering wide-bore, shoulder-fired blasters, but the confused crowd was milling around and no one had a clear idea yet of just what was going on. The antigrav dancers began alight-ing as beings raised their attention from assorted in-toxicants, stimulants, depressants, psychetropics, and placebos. The room buzzed with a sort of befuddled, franslingual Huh?

  Ploovo Two-For-One, having finally dissuaded the Dinko from his abused nose by main force, flung it across the room. The Dinko landed upon the dinner of a wealthy dowager, destroying the appetite of every-one at that table.

  Ploovo, still caressing his wounded snout, turned just in time to see Han Solo vault th
e bar. There he is? the underworld boss exclaimed. The two bartend-ers rushed to stop Han, swinging the stun-staves they kept behind their bar for the preservation of order. He met the first with crossed wrists intersecting the bar-tenders, stopping the descending stun-stave, brought his knee up, and elbowed the first mixologist into the second. Chewbacca, following his parmer over the bar with a joyous bellow that made the lighting fixtures tinkle, fell on top of the bartenders.

  A blaster bolt, fired by one of the Espos at the doors, shattered a crystalline globe of four-hundred-year-old Novanian grog. The crowd bleated, most of them diving for the floor. Two more shots blew frag-ments out of the bar and half slagged the cash reposi-tory.

  Han had struggled past the vigorous tangle of Chewie and the bartenders. He grabbed for his blaster and threw down on the Espos, peppering their general location with short bursts. One dropped, his shoulder smoking, and the others scattered for cover. Off to one side, Hah could hear Ploovo and his men clubbing their way through yelling, charging customers. He headed for the bar.

  Hah turned to his objective, the gravity controls. With no leisure to analyze them, he frantically began moving indicators toward maximum. Luckily for ev-eryone not within the insulated area of the bar, he no-ticed when hed happened on the general field override, and there were no longer any free-flight dancers in the air. Thus, no one was crushed, or dashed to smither-eens.

  As it was, Han ran the places gee-lead up to three-point-five Standard. Entities of all descriptions sank to the carpets, borne down by the staggering weight of their own bodies, proving there were no heavy-gee natives here today. The Espos flopped with the rest. Ploovo Two-For-One, Han noted in passing, strongly resembled a beached bloatfish.

  There was silence except for the grunts of deter-mined breathing and the smothered groans from those whod suffered some minor mishap in hitting the deck. No one seemed badly hurt, though. Hah put his smoking blaster away, studying the gravity-fields con-trols, telling himself, Yo, now; what we need is a tight corridor out of here. But he was biting his lip, and his fingers poised indecisively over the adjustments.