Star Wars - Han Solo Trilogy - The Paradise Snare

by A. C. Crispin

  Han was acutely conscious of the stolen blaster shoved into his belt.

  For a moment he considered going for it, but he abandoned that idea.

  Shrike was known for being fast on the draw. There was no way he couldbeat him, and that might get both Dewlanna and himself killed. Shrikewas clearly in a rage.

  Han licked dry lips. "Listen, Captain," he began. "I can explain--"Shrike drew himself up, his eyes narrowing. "You can explain what, youcowardly little traitor? Stealing from your family? Betraying thosewho trusted you? Stabbing your benefactor in the back, you snivelinglittle thief?"

  "But--" "I've had it with you, Solo. I've been lenient with you sofar, because you're a blasted good swoop pilot and all that prize moneycame in handy, but my patience is ended." Shrike ceremoniously pushedup the sleeves of his bedizened uniform, then balled his hands intofists. The galley's artificial lighting made the blood-jewel ringglitter dull silver. "Let's see what a few days of fighting offDevaronian blood-poisoning does for your attitude--along with maybe afew broken bones. I'm doing this for your own good, boy. Somedayyou'll thank me."

  Han gulped with terror as Shrike started toward him. He'd lashed outat the trader captain once before, two years ago, when he'd beenfeeling cocky after winning the gladitorial Free-For-All onJubilar--and had been instantly sorry. The speed and strength ofGarris's returning blow had snapped his head back and split both lipsso thoroughly that Dewlanna had had to feed him mush for a week untilthey healed.

  With a snarl, Dewlanna stepped forward. Shrike's hand dropped to hisblaster. "You stay out of this, old Wookiee," he snapped in a voicenearly as harsh as Dewlanna's. "Your cooking isn't that good."

  Han had already grabbed his friend's furry arm and was forciblyholding her back. "Dewlanna, no!"

  She shook off his hold as easily as she would have waved off anannoying insect and roared at Shrike. The captain drew his blaster,and chaos erupted.

  "Noooo!" Han screamed, and leaped forward, his foot lashing out in anold street-fighting technique. His instep impacted solidly withShrike's breastbone. The captain's breath went out in a great whooshand he went over backward. Han hit the deck and rolled. A tinglerbolt sizzled past his ear.

  "Larrad!" wheezed the captain as Dewlanna started toward him.

  Shrike's brother drew his blaster and pointed it at the Wookiee.

  "S top, Dewlanna!"

  His words had no more effect than Han's. Dewlanna's blood was up--shewas in full Wookiee battle rage. With a roar that deafened thecombatants, she grabbed Larrad's wrist and yanked, spinning him aroundand snapping him in a terrible parody of a child's "snap the whip"game. Han heard a crunch, mixed with several pops as tendons andligaments gave way. Larrad Shrike shrieked, a high, shrill noise thatcarried such pain that the Corellian youth's arm ached in sympathy.

  Grabbing the blaster from his belt, Han snapped off a shot at theElomin who was leaping forward, tingler ready and aimed at Dewlanna'smidsection.

  Brafid howled and dropped to the floor. Han was amazed that he'dmanaged to hit him, but he didn't have long to wonder about theaccuracy of his aim.

  Shrike was staggering to his feet, blaster in hand, aimed squarely atHan's head. "Larrad?" he yelled at the writhing heap of agony thatwas his brother. Larrad did not reply.

  Shrike cocked the blaster and stepped even closer to Han. "Stop it,Dewlanna!" the captain snarled at the Wookiee. "Or your buddy Solodies!"

  Han dropped his blaster and put his hands up in a gesture ofsurrender.

  Dewlanna stopped in her tracks, growling softly.

  Shrike leveled the blaster, and his finger tightened on the trigger.

  Pure malevolent hatred was etched upon his features, and then hesmiled, pale blue eyes glittering with ruthless joy. "Forinsubordination and striking your captain," he announced, "I sentenceyou to death, Solo. May you rot in all the hells there ever were."

  As Han froze, expecting the bolt to fry him any moment, Dewlannaroared, shoved Han aside, and leaped for Shrike. The blaster'senergy

  beam caught her full in the chest, and she went down in a heap ofcharred fur and burned flesh.

  "Dewlanna!" Han yelled in anguish. With a quickness he hadn't knownhe possessed, he dived at Shrike, hitting the captain in a drivingtackle around his knees. Shrike went over backward again, and thistime his head impacted solidly with the deck. He sagged, out cold.

  Han crawled back to his friend, turning her over gently, seeing thegreat hole the blaster beam had bored into her chest. He knewimmediately that the wound was mortal. No medical droid everconstructed could heal this.

  Dewlanna moaned, gasped, and fought with all her great Wookiee strengthto breathe. Han slid his arms beneath her shoulders and tried to easeher struggle. Her blue eyes opened and, after a moment, fixed onhis.

  Lucidity returned, and she rumbled softly.

  "No, I won't leave you!" Han replied, clutching her harder. Tearsblurred his vision, and she swam below him in a sea of brown fur. "Idon't care if I get away! Oh, Dewlanna . . ."

  Making a great effort, she raised a huge, furred paw-hand and graspedhis arm. Han had to struggle to translate her speech. "I know," hechoked, talking aloud so she'd know he understood her. "I know youcare about me .

  . ." she rumbled again, "as much as you do your own children."

  Han swallowed, his throat tight and aching. "I . . . I feel the sameway, Dewlanna. You're the closest thing to a mother I'll ever have."

  A long moan of anguish made her shudder. She rumbled at him again.

  "No," Han insisted. "I'm not leaving you. I'll stay with you till .

  . . till . .

  ." He couldn't finish the sentence.

  Dewlanna grabbed his arm with a ghost of her old strength and growledat him urgently. "If I . . ." Han was having trouble comprehendingher slurred speech, "if I die . . . nothing? Oh, you're saying thatif I don't live, you'll have died for nothing?"

  She nodded, her eyes in their nest of hair holding his with all theintensity she could muster. Han shook his head stubbornly. How couldhe abandon her to die alone?

  Dewlanna rumbled softly, faintly. "Yeah, I'm sure you'll be safe, onewith the life-power," Han said, trying to sound sincere. He knew someWookiees believed in a unifying power that bound all of existencetogether.

  Personally, he thought this power--he'd never been able to translatethe term accurately, the Wookiee word could have meant "strength," or"force," too--that Dewlanna believed in so steadfastly was justsuperstition.

  But if it comforted her to believe in it during her dying moments, Hanwasn't going to argue with her. He remembered the words she'd said tohim several times. "Dewlanna, may the life-power be with you . . ."

  For a moment he wished that he, too, could believe . . .

  She moaned with pain. Han could see she was going fast. Then Dewlannarumbled feebly, and again he automatically translated. "Your lastrequest . . ." He choked, barely able to get the words out, "You wantme . . to go . . . to live. And to be . . . happy."

  Han struggled not to break down. "Okay!" he agreed. "I'll go. Istill have time to get aboard that robot ship before it takes off."

  Dewlanna whined faintly.

  "I promise," he agreed, his voice ragged. "I'll go now. And I swearI'll always remember you, Dewlanna."

  She was beyond speech now, but he was sure she'd heard him. He laidher gently on the deck, then rose and picked up the blaster. Then,after giving Dewlanna one final look, Han turned and raced out thedoor.

  His running feet resounded through the corridors of Trader's Luck; thetime was past for stealth. He had to reach the docking bay, and thatrobot Ylesian freighter! Han had no idea when it was due to blast awayfrom the Luck, but the loading schedule posted for the space dockworkers had listed it as being ready for blastoff as soon as the droidsfinished fueling. And when he'd swiped the spacesuit and hidden it,they'd just started that process.

  The Ylesian Dream might be leaving any moment!

  Gasping, Han sprinted for the lock, his
feet thudding along the decksthat had been his playground ever since he was old enough toremember.

  In the distance, he could hear sleepy voices, interspersed with shoutsand orders.

  I can't let them catch me. Shrike will kill me. The certainty lentspeed to his flying feet.

  He skidded around the final turn and grabbed the spacesuit he'd hiddenbehind some fueling equipment. The helmet flopped over his arm,banging him in the midsection as he hastily keyed in the code he'dstolen into the airlock door.

  Seconds passed The sounds of pursuit were growing louder. But surelythey'd think he was headed for the shuttle deck or even the lifepods.

  Nobody would guess he'd be crazy enough to try stowing away on a robotfreighter--at least that's what he was counting on . . .

  The lock hissed open. Han leaped inside, closed the hatch, and beganyanking on the spacesuit. He checked the air storage. Full. Good.

  He'd originally planned to bring along some extra air paks, but hedidn't dare venture back out. The pak on the suit was good for twodays. That should

  be enough, unless the Dream was a really slow vessel. Since it was arobot drone, he had no way of discovering what course it would befollowing, or how fast it was scheduled to go.

  Han grimaced. Only a desperate man would use this method of escape.

  He was desperate, all right. He just hoped he wouldn't arrive onYlesia dead because he'd run out of air.

  Let's see . . . food pellets . . . full. Water tank . . . full.

  Good. That was Captain Shrike again, insisting that all ship'sequipment be maintained in perfect working order.

  Han dragged the suit up over the arms of his ship's gray jumpsuit andclosed the seam running up the front. He picked up the helmet, clumsybecause of the gloves, and settled it over his head. It was mostlyglassine, and he could see every direction except directly behindhim.

  A bank of bolos ran around the bottom rim of the helmet, giving him hisvitals, amount of air remaining, and all the other information heneeded to survive. Han could "talk" to his suit in a limited fashionby bumping his chin against the communications lever and giving thesuit instructions concerning his temperature, air mix, and so forth.

  Okay, this is it, the young man thought as he clumped over to theconnecting hatch and keyed in the final sequence to equalize pressuresbetween the lock and the Ylesian Dream. He could faintly hear a hissas the air was pumped out of the lock. The Dream, being a robot,didn't need air to operate. The ship would be filled only withvacuum.

  Finally, the hatch opened, and Han stepped inside.

  It was crowded with equipment and cargo, and the corridors were verynarrow. The Dream wasn't constructed to accommodate a living crew,only for routine maintenance, and Han had to turn sideways to squeezein. The youth was fleetingly grateful that all standard engineeringwas designed to function in gravity. Otherwise, he might've had tocontend with zero gee, and that would have been a real pain.

  He'd been outside the Trader's Luck with the welding crew in spacesuitsseveral times since he'd been considered old enough for hazardousship's duty, hanging in space, tethered to the ship only by a seeminglyfragile umbilical. It had been kind of exciting the first couple oftimes, but Han didn't particularly care for weightlessness, and he'dsoon learned never to look "down." Seeing nothing but space beneathhis feet for light-years and light-years was enough to make his headswim.

  Han clumped toward the "bridge," figuring that was where the maximumamount of room would be. He reached it in only moments--the Dream wasa small ship. If her cargo list was correct, she'd brought in ashipment of top-grade glitterstim spice, and would be leaving with acargo of high-quality Corellian electronic components that could be used infactory maintenance.

  Han wondered for a moment whom Garris Shrike had paid off to be able toreceive a shipment of spice. The substance was rigidly controlled bymost planetary governments and also by the Imperial trade commission.

  He turned sideways to enter the bridge--and fr oze.

  What in the name of all the Sons of Barab is an astromech droid doingon the bridge? Everyone knew a droid couldn't pilot a ship by itself,so it couldn't be piloting. Han grimaced behind the glassine helmet.

  This droid must be there as a sort of burglar alarm, a sophisticatedcommunications device to help deter portside thieves or spacepirates.

  Han knew that one of the reasons the Ylesian priests were eager to hirea pilot--preferably a Corellian, their ad had read--was that they'dbeen losing robot ships to piracy.

  As he froze, hoping the droid wasn't aware of his presence, the youngman felt the Dream shudder. We're undocking! I've got to get bracedfor breakaway thrust!

  Quickly he edged away from the bridge and headed back toward the cargoarea. Finally, he found what he was looking for, and just in time. Asmall space that he could sit down in, just the right size to allow himto brace himself with his arms and legs.

  The Dream shuddered again, and then again. Mentally, Han pictured thedocking clamps falling away, one by one. One more to go, then-The shipshuddered one more time, then lurched violently. Since the Dreamwasn't supposed to be manned, it could utilize acceleration patternsthat were much rougher than those used in a vessel with a livingcrew.

  Wham! Han's body jerked, then he braced himself against the thrust ofviolent acceleration. The Dream was undocked and away!

  Mentally, Han pictured them thrusting away from Trader's Luck, out ofthe embrace of Corellia's gravity field. Closing his eyes, he picturedhis homeworld turning lazily against the backdrop of stars. Corelliawas a pretty planet, with narrow blue seas, green-brown forests, tandeserts, and large cities. On the nightside it glittered like a battleremote studded with lights The hardest thrust of acceleration hit then,and Han was pinned uncomfortably against the cargo container. We'vemade the jump to lightspeed, he realized.

  Moments later, as the ship's speed evened out, he was able to moveagain.

  He flexed his arms and legs, wincing as bruises made themselves

  felt. From the fight in the galley, he realized. The thought madehim remember Dewlanna with a sudden, visceral sadness. Tears stung hiseyes, and he fought them back fiercely. Crying in a spacesuit helmetwas a lousy idea, since you couldn't wipe your face.

  Han sniffed, trying to blink back the tears. Dewlanna... he thought.

  His friend had given her life to give him this chance.

  Get hold of yourself, Solo, he ordered himself sternly. His throatached, but Han gulped, swallowed hard, then bit his lip until the urgeto cry receded. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried, andwhat was the point? It wouldn't bring Dewlanna back . . .

  Han knew Dewlanna believed in an afterlife of the spirit. If she wasright about that, then maybe she could hear him now.

  "Hey, Dewlanna," Han whispered, "I made it. I'm on my way. I'm goingto Ylesia, and I'm going to become the best pilot in the sector. I'lllearn enough--and earn enough--to apply for the Academy, the way wealways dreamed. I'm free, Dewlanna." His voice broke. We're safe,Dewlanna.

  Shrike can't touch either of us, now . . .

  Wedged into his little crevice, the young pilot smiled with grimdetermination. I'm free, and I owe it all to you. I'll never forgetit, either. If I ever get a chance to pay you back by helping one ofyour people, I swear to anything that's out there--any god, orlife-power, or force--I won't hesitate.

  Han Solo took a long, deep breath of canned spacesuit air. "Thank you,Dewlanna," he whispered.

  Wherever she was now, he hoped she could hear him.

  two

  Ylesian Dreams When Han awoke from exhausted sleep, he was completelydisoriented at first. Where am I? he wondered groggily. Memory camerushing back in swift, violent images His own hand holding a blaster.

  . . Shrike's face twisted with hatred and rage . . . Dewlanna,gasping, dying alone . . .

  He swallowed hard, his throat aching. Dewlanna had been part of hislife since he was just a little kid, eight, perhaps, or nine. Heremembered the day she'd come aboard with he
r mate, Isshaddik.

  Isshaddik had been outlawed from the Wookiee homeworld for some crimethat Dewlanna had never referred to. She'd followed her mate intoexile, leaving behind all that she'd ever known--her home and theirgrown cubs.

  A year or so later, Isshaddik had been killed during a smuggling run toNar Hekka, one of the worlds in the Hutt sector. Shrike had announcedto Dewlanna that she could remain aboard Trader's Luck as cook, sincehe'd grown to like the foods she prepared. Dewlanna could have goneback to Kashyyyk--after all, she'd committed no crime--but she'd chosento stay aboard the Luck.