enter the place, except to cross a narrow wooden bridge that spannedthe water and led up to the front door.
Han had been interested in military tactics ever since he was small,and he'd read up on them. He studied the Sal-Solo mansion, realizingit was built to almost military fortress standards of impregnability.
Well, that sort of fit in with what he'd read about the Solo family.
They didn't socialize, didn't attend charity events or go to plays orconcerts.
In all the times he'd posed as a rich kid, he'd never heard anyonemention the Solo family--and the way those rich people talked abouteach other, he'd have heard something if they ever mingled with theirpeers.
Han walked cautiously toward the house. He'd exchanged his ship's grayjumpsuit for a "borrowed" pair of black pants and a pale gray tunic.
He didn't want anyone finding out where he'd come from.
When he was nearly to the beginning of the causeway, he stood behindone of the large, ornamental bushes and warily peered across the waterto the house. What should he do now? Just walk up and activate thedoor signal?
He bit his lip, undecided. What if they called the authorities on him,reported him as a runaway? Shrike would descend on him sofast-"Gotcha!"
Han gasped and jumped as a hand closed over his upper arm, hauling himaround bodily.
The person who'd grabbed him was head and shoulders taller than theyounger boy. He had darker hair than Han, and was stockier as well.
But it was his face that made Han stand staring at him in blankamazement.
Han gaped, speechless, at the older boy. If he'd ever doubted that hewas really related to the Solo family, those doubts died an instantdeath. The face of the youth who was holding his arm looked like anolder version of the face Han saw in the mirror every morning.
Not that they were twins or anything. But there was too muchresemblance in their features to be coincidence. The same shape of thebrown eyes, the same kind of lips, the same quirk to the eyebrows . .
. the same nose and jawline . . .
The other boy was gaping back at Han, having evidently noticed the samething. "Hey!" He shook Han's arm roughly. "Who are you?"
"My name is Han Solo," Han replied steadily. "You must be ThrackanSal-Solo."
"So what if I am?" the other said sullenly. Han was beginning to feeluneasy about the way the boy was eyeing him. He'd seen vrelts withmore warmth in their eyes. "Han Solo, eh? I never heard of you. Where do you come from? Who's your mother and father?"
"I was hoping you could tell me that," Han said evenly. "I ran away
from where I was staying, because I wanted to find my family. I don'tknow anything about myself except my name."
"Huh . . ." Thrackan was still staring. "Well, I guess you must beone of the family . . ."
"Looks like it," Han agreed, not realizing until he spoke that it was apun. But Thrackan didn't appear to notice. He seemed mesmerized byHan and, releasing his grip on the other's arm, walked around him,studying him from every angle.
"Where did you run away from?" Thra ckan asked. "Will anyone comelooking for you?"
"No," Han said shortly. He wasn't about to trust Thrackan withanything that could come back to haunt him. "Listen," he said, "welook alike, so we must be related, right? Could we . . . could we bebrothers?" Funny, but after all his dreaming about finding a familythat would rescue him from Trader's Luck, Han found himself hoping thatwasn't the case.
"Not a chance," Thrackan said with a curl of his lip. "My dad died ayear after I was born, and my mom shut herself up here ever since.
She's kind of... a loner."
That fit with what Han had read about the Sal-Solo family. Tiion Solohad married a man named Randil Sal, some twenty years ago. The publicrecords had carried his obituary.
"Maybe she'd know something about me, "Han said. "Could I see her?"
He took a deep breath. "Please?"
Thrackan seemed to consider. "Okay," he said finally, "but if she gets .
. upset, you've got to leave, okay? Mom doesn't like people. She'slike her grandfather, won't have human servants, just droids. She sayshumans betray and kill each other and droids never do."
Han followed Thrackan into the huge house, through rooms full ofshrouded furniture and paintings draped against dust. The family,Thrackan explained, used only a few rooms, to save the cleaning droidstime and effort.
Finally, they came to Thrackan's mother's sitting room. Tiion Solo wasa pale, dark-haired woman, plump and unhealthy-looking. She was farfrom attractive. But, looking at her, studying her face, seeing thebones beneath the puffy flab, Han thought that once, long ago, shemight have been beautiful. Seeing her features, a memory stirredwithin him, so faint . . .
Once, he'd seen features similar to hers, Han thought. Long ago, faraway.
The "memory, "if memory it was, was as fleeting and elusive as a driftof smoke.
"Mother," Thrackan said, "this is Han Solo. He's related to us, isn'the?"
Tiion Sal-Solo's gaze traveled to Han's face, and her eyes widened in
distress. She stared at the boy in horror. Her mouth worked, and athin, shrill mewling sound emerged. "No . . . no!" she cried. Tearsgathered in her brown eyes, coursed down the flabby cheeks. "No, itisn't possible!
He's gone! They're both gone!"
Burying her face in her hands, she began to weep hysterically.
Thrackan grabbed Han by the arm and dragged him out of the house. "Nowlook what you did, you little idiot," the youth said, glancing uneasilyup at his mother's window. "She'll be a mess for days, she always iswhen she gets like that."
Han shrugged. "I didn't do anything. She just looked at me, that'sall.
What's wrong with her?"
With a muffled curse, Thrackan backhanded Han across the face so hardit split the younger boy's lip. "Shut up!" he snarled. "You've gotno right to talk about her. There's nothing wrong with her, hear me?
Nothing!"
The blow stung, but Han had been hit often, by experts, and one thinghe knew was how to take a punch and stay on his feet. For a moment hewas tempted to fly at the older boy's throat, but he made himselfrelax. There had been genuine pain in Thrackan's eyes as he defendedhis mother. Han figured he might have done the same thing, if he'dever had a mother. I have to stay here, he reminded himself. Anythingis better than Shrike . . .
"Sorry," he managed to say.
Thrackan looked a little abashed. 'Just watch what you say about mymom, okay?"
The next six weeks were some of the strangest of Han's life. Thrackanallowed Han to stay with him in his rooms (Tiion almost never came intoThrackan's part of the house), and the two of them spent time talkingand getting to know each other.
Thrackan was a demanding host, Han soon learned. Han had to agree withhim completely, and rush to do his bidding, or he lost his temper andcuffed the younger boy. Thrackan made Han pilot him around thecountryside in an aging landspeeder, and the two of them even went on afew expeditions to vacant estates Thrackan knew about, whoseinhabitants were away on vacation. Thrackan would demand that Han pickthe locks and disable the security systems, and then the older boywould steal whatever took his fancy.
Han began to wonder whether he'd done himself any favor by running awayfrom Trader's Luck. Two things kept him at the Solo estate his fearthat if he displeased Thrackan, the older boy would turn him over tothe authorities--thus allowing Shrike to locate him; and his hope thatThrackan would break down and tell Han everything he knew about who Hanreally was.
He kept hinting that he knew how they might be related.
"All in good time," Thrackan would say when Han tried to pryinformation out of him. "All in good time, Han. Let's go flying. Iwant you to teach me to pilot the speeder."
Han tried, but Thrackan wasn't very good at it. The older boy nearlycrashed them several times before he mastered even the rudiments offlying the small craft.
I have to get out of here, Han kept telling himself. I'll run away tosome ot
her world, where they'll never find me. Maybe I can get adoptedor get a job or something. There's got to be some way . . .
But he couldn't think of any way to get free of Thrackan. The olderboy was vindictive, sadistic, and just plain mean. Several times Hansaw him torture insects or animals, and when he realized that hisactions disturbed the younger boy, he did it frequently. Han had neverhad a pet, but he tended to like furred creatures because ofDewlanna.
He missed her every day.
The situation became more and more explosive, until one day Thrackanreally lost his temper with Han. Grabbing the younger boy by the hair,he dragged him to the kitchen, picked up a knife, and held it beforeHan's eyes. "See this?" he snarled. "If you don't apologize, anddon't do exactly what I say, I'm going to cut your ears off. Nowapologize!" He shook Han hard. "And you'd better make me believeit!"
Han stared at the shining blade of the knife, and wet his lips. Hetried to force out words of apology, but a huge burst of red ragewelled up in him.
All the insults, all the cuffs and blows and beatings--Shrike's as wellas Thrackan's--seemed to come to a head.
With a bellow as loud as a Wookiee's, Han went berserk. He slammed hisfist against Thruckan's arm, sending the knife flying, and slammed hisother elbow into Thrackan's stomach. The breath whooshed out of theolder boy, and before Thrackan could recover himself, Han was all overhim.
Kicking, biting, punching, gouging--Han used every dirty trick he'dlearned on the streets to beat up Thrackan. Stunned and reeling fromHan's fury, Thrackan never did recover, until the fight ended with Hansitting astride Thrackan, holding the knife to the older boy'sthroat.
"Hey . . ." Thrackan's eyes glittered like a trapped vrelt's. "Hey,Han, stop kidding around. This isn't funny."
"Neither is cutting off my ears," Han said. "Listen, I've had it. Youtell me what you know, and you tell me right now, or I swear I'll cutyour throat wide open. And then I'm leaving here. I've had it withyou."
Thrackan's dark eyes were wide with fear. Something he'd seen on Han'sface must have convinced the older boy that Han was so angry he wouldbe wise not to push him. "Okay, okay!"
"Now," Han said. "Talk."
Stammering with fear, Thrackan told the story.
Years ago, Thrackan's grandfather, Denn Solo, and his grandmother, TiraGama Solo, had lived on the fifth inhabited planet in the Corelliansystem, a colony world called Tralus. Those were perilous times, androving bands of raiders and pirates threatened many outlying worlds.
The raiders never reached Corellia, but they reached Tralus. A fleetof them landed and devastated the entire colony.
"Grandma Solo was pregnant," Thrackan gasped, because it was hard tobreathe with Han sitting on his chest. "And the night their town wasattacked, she had her babies. Twins. One of them was later namedTiion.
Grandma Solo took her and ran away from the raiders. She managed tohide in a cave in the hills."
"Tiion," Han said. "Your mother."
"Right. The other baby was a boy, Grandma Solo said. Her husband tookhim.
There hadn't even been time to name them. Grandma said it wasterrible.
Fires everywhere, and people running and screaming. She and GrandpaDenn got separated in the rush to escape."
"And?" Han flexed his hand slightly, and the blade moved againstThrackan's throat.
"Like I said, Grandma Solo and Tiion escaped. But Grandpa Solo and thebaby boy vanished. They were never heard from again."
"So who does that make me?" Han said, completely baffled.
"I don't know," Thrackan said. "But if I had to guess, I'd guess thatyou're my cousin. That somehow Grandpa Solo and his son got away, andthat you're the son of his son."
"Doesn't anybody know anything but that?" Han demanded, feelingdesperate.
This was a total dead end--the disappointment was crushing.
"Servants?"
"Grandpa Solo didn't like human servants. He always had droids. Andwhen Grandma Solo made it back to her family on Corellia, Great grandpaGama had all the droids' memories erased. He thought it would beeasier on her that way. He wanted her to get married again, start anew life." Thrackan struggled to take a deep breath. "But she neverdid."
"So what happened to your mom?"
"I don't know. She's always been afraid to trust people, and she hatescrowds. After my dad died, she just wanted to shut herself away. Soshe did."
Han's knife hand drooped, and he shook his head. "Okay," he said.
"I'm go--" With a sudden heave, Thrackan threw him off, and then,before Han could counter the move, their positions were reversed. Hangazed up at his
cousin, knowing that he'd be lucky to live through this. Thrackan'sdark eyes blazed with hate, rage, and sadistic pleasure. "You're goingto be very, very sorry, Han," he said quietly.
And Han was.
Thrackan locked him in a bare storeroom for three days, giving him onlybread and water. On the afternoon of the third day, as Han was sittinglistlessly in a corner, Thrackan unlocked the door. "I'm afraid thisis goodbye, coz," he said cheerfully. "Someone's here to take youhome."
Han looked around desperately as Garris and Larrad Shrike followedThrackan into the room, but as he already knew, there was nowhere torun.
Han shook his head and refused to let himself think about the days thathad followed. Shrike had been held back in his punishment only by thefact that he hadn't wanted to "damage" Han permanently because of hisgrowing reputation as an expert speeder and swoop pilot. But there hadbeen lots of things he could do that wouldn't cause permanent damage,and he had done most of them . . .
The only time Han had been beaten more severely was after the debacleon Jubilar, when he was seventeen. Han had already been bruised andsore from the gladitorial Free-For-All he'd been forced to fight in,after being caught cheating at cards. That time, Shrike hadn'tbothered with a strap, he'd just used his fists--battering the boy'sface and body until Larrad and several others had pulled him off Han'sunconscious form.
And now he's killed Dewlanna, Han thought bitterly. If anyone everneeded killing, it's Garris Shrike.
For a moment he wondered why it had never occurred to him to kill theunconscious Shrike before he'd made his getaway aboard the YlesianDream.
He'd have been doing the inhabitants of Trader's Luck a favor. Whyhadn't he? He'd had the blaster in his hand . . .
Han shook his head. He'd never shot anyone before yesterday, andkilling an unconscious man just wasn't his style.
But Han knew, without being told, that if Garris Shrike ever caught upwith him in the future, he was a dead man. The captain never forgotand he never forgave. He specialized in carrying grudges againstanyone who had ever wronged him.
Han got up again to check their course, and his air pak. Only a fewhours worth of air left, now. He did some mental calculations, whilestaring at the display. Close. It's going to be close. I'd better beready to pop the cargo door on this crate as soon as we land . . .
It's going to be very, very close . . .
three
Crash Landing
Although he'd flown hundreds of hours in swoops and speeders, Han'sexperience with piloting larger vessels was confined to the timesGarris Shrike had permitted him to pilot the Luck's shuttle on easyruns. He'd taken off and landed, but he'd never before tried to landanything as large as the robot freighter. Han hoped he'd be able tohandle it. He had confidence in his ability as a pilot--after all,hadn't he been the junior speeder champion of all Corellia three yearsrunning? And, last year, hadn't he won the swoop racing championshipof the entire Corellian system?
Still, compared to the Luck's shuttle, this freighter was huge . . .
Han dozed again, then when he awoke, roved restlessly around the cabin,knowing he should be conserving his energy and his air, but unable tostop himself.
"Sir?" The R2 unit that had been so quiet for so many hours suddenlycame back to life. "I must advise you that we have reached the orbitof Ylesia.
You must stand ready to mak
e your descent and landing."
"Thanks for telling me," Han said. Going over to the control banks, hescanned the instruments, mentally calculating their descent. Thiswasn't going to be easy. He had no way to interface with thenavicomputer, except via the R2 unit. A pilot had to make split-seconddecisions, at times, and in cases like that, Han wouldn't be able towait for the R2 unit to reply.
Star Wars - Han Solo Trilogy - The Paradise Snare Page 6
