Honor Among Thieves: Star Wars (Empire and Rebellion)

by James S. A. Corey

  A maintenance droid hummed down the corridor, nodded to Han, and continued on its way. Han traced patterns in the grain of the polished stone walls and counted the leaves on the ferns and ivy that struggled to make the waiting area seem natural and welcoming. His leg fell asleep.

  The first time the sound came, Han wasn’t certain that he’d heard it. A gentle ticking, like a pebble being thrown against a window. The second time, he was listening for it. The third time, he drew his blaster and stood up. It wasn’t coming from the same hallway as Hunter Maas’s room, but from the next one down. Han peeked around the corner in time to see something at the far intersection. A shape that ducked out of sight before he could tell what he was looking at. Someone else was in the corridors, and they didn’t want to be seen any more than he did.

  He opened a connection.

  “Scarlet?”

  “Han?”

  “Everything all right with you?”

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “Nothing, maybe. But you’re all right?”

  “Making progress,” she said. “I think I see how to do the thing, but if there’s trouble out there—”

  “I don’t know that yet,” Han said. “I’m going to look around a little. If you hear, you know, blasters and screaming . . .”

  “I’ll keep my ears up.”

  Han cut the connection. He stepped back to corridor 24. No one. Slowly, rolling his feet heel-to-toe to keep from making any more noise than the minimum, he made his way toward the intersection where the other person had been. His blaster felt light in his hand; his blood sang in his veins. Through one of the doors, he heard deep, chuckling laughter.

  At the intersection, he glanced around the corner, pulling his head back quickly in case someone shot at him. Another long corridor, but at its end, a small, huddled shape. Someone—humanoid, maybe even human—hunched down, half hidden by a lush stand of ornamental plants half a meter wide and two meters tall. Han looked again. Whoever it was, they hadn’t turned to look at him. The shoulders shifted as if they were doing something.

  Han debated for a moment. There were a million things going on in the conclave hive right now that had nothing at all to do with him. Chances were this was one. He could pull back, make his way to his couch, and take up his vigil again. Or he could just make certain that whatever the figure at the end of the hall was building wasn’t a bomb. That might be good, too.

  He slipped around the corner. The dark, hunched figure didn’t react. Han moved forward step by step, his blaster before him. He reached the edge of the stand of plants and leveled his blaster at the hooded figure’s head.

  “Excuse me, friend,” Han said. “Couldn’t help wondering what you were doing there.”

  The dark-cloaked figure’s head came up. It raised its hands and turned around slowly. It was a Bothan. Han frowned. It was a very familiar Bothan. Han’s gut went heavy with dread. He turned to look into the ornamental foliage at his side.

  A blaster poked out from between the fronds, pointing at his left eye.

  “No need to blame poor Sunnim, now,” Baasen Ray said. “Lad’s just a pilot that fell in with the wrong crowd. You know what that’s like. Now, let’s try this again.”

  “You know,” Han said, “this is a really bad time.”

  “Always is, lad, isn’t it?”

  Nineteen

  Han walked as slowly as he could, his mind racing. The hallway was quiet and dim. If there were any security droids or monitors, Han couldn’t see them, and no alarms sounded. Either his abduction was going unnoticed, or it was beneath the level of violence that caused concern on Kiamurr. Baasen knew better than to actually put the barrel of the blaster against Han’s back. Sunnim walked in front, close enough to block him if Han tried to run but not close enough to grab and use as a shield. He considered screaming for Scarlet Hark, but that would spook Hunter Maas.

  All in all, it was not turning out to be a good night.

  “You’ll be needing to call our friend Chewbacca,” Baasen said. “Let him know about the change of plan. And he’ll be wanting to get the Falcon ready to take off. And you can tell him there’s no hard feelings about Cioran. I’d have done the same as him.”

  “Your plan is to take the Falcon?” Han said.

  “Not my first choice,” Baasen said. “But we make do with what the universe gives us, don’t we? It’s a ship, and we’re in need of one.”

  The hallway reached an intersection, and Sunnim held up a hand for them to stop before he sauntered out into it, looked in all directions, feigning innocence poorly, and then waved them forward.

  “You don’t have a ship?” Han said. “Did you walk here?”

  Baasen’s chuckle was low and rueful. “I’m afraid my old boat’s seen her last days. Truth is I’m doing you a favor, my boy. Putting you back in the frying pan, it’s truth, but I’m hauling you off the fire to do it. I dropped into Kiamurr system hot and came in a borrat’s whisker from sliding into the side of an Imperial Destroyer. They’ve ten of them out there. Well, Sunnim and I put all the power to our shields and lit out for the territories, didn’t we? Still sucked down enough plasma to melt our power couplings. Sad end to a good ship. I’d stay and fix the poor dear, but I’m fairly sure this planet and everything on it’ll be slag by morning.”

  Han’s throat went tight. The fleet was here, then. They were out of time. He had to warn Leia. And Scarlet. And Chewbacca.

  Sunnim opened the service door at the hallway’s end and peeked out, his ears shifting forward. A pair of protocol droids were walking together in the distance, their plating made from a clear polymer, and their circuits glowing blue and yellow in the darkness. Sunnim watched them pass, then grunted and waved Han forward.

  “Step quick, old friend,” Baasen said, his tone less friendly than it had been. “I’ve got no time or inclination for your cleverness just now.”

  “Baasen, you’re playing this wrong,” Han said, not stepping forward. “This thing with Jabba? It’s the smallest game on the board.”

  “For you, p’raps,” Baasen said. “Looms rather large for me. Now walk.”

  Out of the hall, the conclave hive’s windows were showing a slightly paler darkness—charcoal instead of black. A tiny bird no larger than Han’s thumb darted up into the air of the great dome above them. Sunnim scowled furiously and waved them forward.

  “Look, Baasen. I understand where you are. Honestly, I’ve got no hard feeling about any of it, either. So before we go out there and can’t take any of this back, let me tell you what you’re walking out on.”

  “There’s not enough honey in the galaxy to sweet-talk your way out of this, old friend,” Baasen said. “And don’t dream that I’m above shooting you, eh? Now move.”

  “You’re on the losing side of this. I understand being afraid of Jabba. He’s made me nervous a couple of times, and I don’t scare as easy as you.” Baasen laughed. That was a good sign. Han talked faster. “What’s going on here is bigger than that. Big enough to shut down all the Hutts. Right now, you and I are maybe a hundred meters from information that will decide who runs the galaxy.”

  “You’re old for fairy tales,” Baasen said.

  Han lifted his hands to his sides, palms out, and started turning around. His skin tingled where he imagined the blaster bolt would strike.

  “Don’t you do that, boy, or I’ll end your sad life in this hallway!” Baasen hissed, but Han kept turning. Baasen stood in the corridor, blaster leveled at Han’s head. His missing hand hadn’t been replaced; it was capped with a steel fitting. Baasen’s face was dark with anger, and the trembling in the blaster’s barrel wasn’t fear.

  Han gave his best charming smile. “You know this is big,” he said. “I’m not asking you to trust me on that. All you have to do is look. Scarlet Hark shut down operations on Cioran. The Imperials sent ten Star Destroyers. And when I got here, Leia Organa didn’t just pull up stakes and go. So you know whatever’s going on, it’s
huge. Right?”

  “Stop trying to talk your way out of this,” Baasen said, but there was less certainty in his voice.

  “A tool that can shut down hyperspace jumps. That’s what’s at stake here,” Han said. “Lets you determine who gets to move from one system to another.”

  Baasen shrugged, but Han cold see the calculations going on behind the man’s eyes. Baasen’s gaze softened for a moment, turning inward. Part of Han waned to leap forward, grab the blaster. He restrained himself.

  “Everyone stuck on whatever system they’re in unless you say they can move. Everyone everywhere asking permission to travel. Paying whatever tolls you ask, or just rotting wherever they are if you want.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Did I get the Imperial fleet to help me fool you? Because ten Star Destroyers sounds pretty sincere.”

  Baasen’s tongue flicked out, wetting his lips. He lifted the stump of his wrist, scratching at his nose.The Bothan whined,

  “Boss. We got to go.”

  “Patience, Sunnim. Cultivate a bit of patience, eh?” Baasen said. And then to Han, “This magic thing. It’s here? On Kiamurr?”

  “No, but the map to it is. That’s what the Imperials are after. They’ve known where it is for a while now, but they want to make sure no one else does. Man named Hunter Maas has a copy of their surveys. Hark and I are here to steal it from him.”

  “Pity that’s about to fail,” Baasen said.

  “It’s a big pie, Baasen. Biggest one there’s ever been. If you want in on it, it’ll be worth more than everything Jabba’s got.”

  “Hark’s here? On this planet?”

  “In a room three corridors from here. I can take you to her right now if you want.”

  Baasen still wavered. Outside, the windows were half a shade lighter. The Bothan shifted his weight from one foot to the other as if he needed to use the toilet and made a small keening sound under his breath. Han waited.

  “Let’s go speak with our dear friend Hark,” Baasen said. “Maybe there’s a bit of room to negotiate.”

  “You’re smarter than you look, old pal,” Han said.

  Baasen’s smile was touched with sadness. “Anything seems even a degree off about this, and I will murder you where you stand, you know.”

  “Wouldn’t expect anything less,” Han said.

  They walked back to 17-c. Han racked his brains for ways to warn Scarlet what was coming. If he could raise an alarm, she might be able to get the drop on them, but there was no time. He didn’t have any tools to work with, and Baasen and the Bothan were watching his every move. All he could do was move forward and hope.

  At the door to the room, he paused. Baasen was behind him to the left, Sunnim to the right. If he spun and caught the Bothan’s weapon . . .

  “Don’t,” Baasen said. Han sighed and opened the door.

  Scarlet sat cross-legged on the bed. Her hair was pulled back, but a stray lock hung down her forehead. Her full attention was on the deck opened before her. The safe gaped on the wall behind her, three layers of black metal and complex circuitry open to the air. The stench of ozone and melted steel stung Han’s eyes.

  “Han. Good news. I’ve got a solid workaround on the door seal, and I got far enough into the comm logs to see that Hunter’s been trading calls with half a dozen people since he got in. Smart money says he’s arranging more meetings. Communications stopped about twenty minutes ago, so either he’s even dumber than he looks and he’s going to sleep, or he’s getting ready to head out to his first sit-down meeting, and we’ll be going in as soon as he’s gone.” She looked up for the first time. “So, who’re your friends and why are they holding guns on you? Did you do something bad?”

  “Baasen Ray,” Han said, walking into the room. “Sunnim. This is Scarlet Hark. Scarlet? You’ll remember me talking about Baasen Ray?”

  “The one who screwed up the drop back on Cioran,” Scarlet said. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  “We’ve met once.”

  “Huh,” Scarlet said with a shrug.

  “You’re hurting my feelings, miss.”

  “Well, you can put down your weapons and leave quietly,” Scarlet said, her welding tools still in her hands, the deck in her lap, “and no one gets anything but their feelings hurt.”

  “No need for that, no need,” Baasen said. “The good Captain Solo’s offered me a share in the proceedings here. Come to parley, haven’t I?”

  The door hissed closed behind them. Sunnim’s gaze shifted from it to Baasen to Scarlet and back to the door. Scarlet leaned forward.

  “I don’t have time to screw around,” she said brightly. “So why don’t we start with why I shouldn’t kill both of you and drop your bodies down the recycler?”

  “We’ve got guns drawn already. Even if you’re the fastest draw in the sector, your friend Solo’s a dead man.”

  “We’re not actually that close.”

  “Hey!” Han said.

  “Be that as may be,” Baasen said, “I’d still guess that this isn’t the moment you’d want to start a gunfight? Inconvenient timing, as it were? Besides which, we’ve come to help. If what this rascal Han’s been saying’s even half true, I make us for being on the same side of things. For the moment at least.”

  “Not sure I’m seeing that,” Scarlet said, and her deck chirped. A thin, grainy hologram coalesced over the bedspread. In the hallway outside 24-d, Hunter Maas adjusted his cape, shifted a small carrying case from hand to hand, and leaned in, speaking to the doorway. There was no sound with the feed, but from his gestures, Han guessed the shirtless man was practicing his sales pitch. After a moment, the door slid shut.

  “You put a monitor on him?” Han asked.

  “I went to find you, and you were gone,” Scarlet said. “I went to plan B.”

  “Replaced by a small cam,” Baasen said. “It’s no universe for you and me anymore, Solo.”

  “Laugh it up,” Han said. “Where’s he going?”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Scarlet said. “This is our window. I’m not going to let your baggage screw it up.”

  “Baggage?” Han said. “I don’t have baggage.”

  “Well, you do a bit,” Baasen said. “No offense meant. So we’re partners now? Passage off the planet and a share in whatever profit comes from it?”

  “Done,” Scarlet said, shutting down the deck. “Welcome to the team.”

  “Pleasure to be here,” Baasen said. “Hope you won’t mind that I take a bit of precaution. Sunnim, my boy, you go on ahead to the Falcon. Make sure everything’s shipshape and ready to go, yes? And if our friends here don’t show up with me smiling along behind them . . . well, you know what to do.”

  The Bothan paused. “Kill everyone?”

  “See now?” Baasen said. “You did know. Good man, and off with you.” The Bothan nodded, opened the door, and trotted away. Baasen holstered his blaster and shrugged apologetically. “Hard to find good help in these fallen times.”

  “That’s truth,” Scarlet said.

  “Once we’re done, we’ll need to be leaving quickly,” Baasen said. “There’s a great flock of Imperial trouble winging its way toward us.”

  “Of course there is,” she said. “All right. Let’s still give Hunter Maas a couple minutes to get away from the rooms. I don’t want him doubling back and interrupting us.”

  “Shouldn’t we warn Leia about the fleet?” Han said.

  “She’ll know. Don’t worry about that part. Let’s just keep focused on getting into that room, getting the data, and getting out again.” She looked from Baasen to Han and back again, her eyebrows raised and merriment in her eyes.

  This woman is crazy, Han thought.

  “Anyone need to use the facilities?” Scarlet asked, “Because I’m not taking time out for pit stops once we start.”

  Baasen guffawed and clapped Han on the shoulder. “You always do know the most colorful people, don’t you, old friend?”

 
; “It’s not my fault.”

  Scarlet stepped off the bed, tugged the wrinkles out of the spread, and began laying out her tools. She hummed to herself, a soft melody just at the edge of hearing. Baasen watched her, and Han watched Baasen. Knowledge of the coming fleet pressed down on the air like a storm. Han told himself that somewhere on the planet, Leia and the leaders of the Rebellion were heading to their ships. Chewbacca was finishing prep of the Millennium Falcon. The plans that Scarlet had put in place were unfolding. He didn’t know what they were, and he didn’t like having faith in them. It was hard not to pace.

  Baasen caught his eye. His grin was warm and avuncular and false. “Just like old times, isn’t it?”

  “Not any times I remember,” Han said.

  “In spirit, I mean.”

  “All right. Sure.”

  “For what it carries, I do hope this works. I wasn’t looking ahead to feeding you to the Hutt with any pleasure.”

  “Enough banter,” Scarlet said. “Focus now.”

  She put her tools into her pockets and onto her belt with a calm, military efficiency, then gestured to Baasen. “We’re going to twenty-four-d. I’ll be popping the seal. You and Solo make sure I’m not interrupted.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem,” Baasen said.

  “See that it’s not.”

  The Mirialan smiled and pointed at her with his stump. “I like you. Not the type to play safe or overthink. Quick on the uptake. See the value in things, even when they’re unexpected.”

  Scarlet made a small, insincere curtsy. “You know, if it wouldn’t have raised an alarm, I would have shot you and your little friend.”

  Baasen looked at Han. “I don’t think she’s fond of you, my boy. Your charms are slipping.”