Star Wars: The Han Solo Trilogy I: The Paradise Snare

by A. C. Crispin

  “That’s true. How about a walk, then?”

  “Sure.”

  When they were outside, Han walked them clear to the Flowered Plains before he broached the subject on his mind. Quickly he summarized that morning’s interaction with Muuurgh. Bria was alarmed to realize that the Togorian had been listening to them last night, and said so.

  “Yeah, me, too,” Han replied. “That big guy can be real quiet when he wants to be. No wonder he says he’s the best hunter on this planet. He’s apparently been following me the whole time I was scouting out the lay of this place, and figuring out the best way to get us out of here.”

  “We’d better be careful where we are when we’re discussing escape plans,” she said, glancing nervously around.

  “Why do you think I walked us clear out here before I even brought up the subject? The trees have ears around here. We’ve gotta be real careful. Last night it was only Muuurgh, so we’re okay, but it coulda been one of the skin-changers they’ve got as guards down in the glitterstim factory.”

  She shivered at the thought. “So what did you have to tell me?”

  “Muuurgh’s going to ask to go on a hunting trip while Jalus Nebl and I make the run to Nal Hutta. We’ve got it all set up. Teroenza approved me taking Nebl with me today. Nal Hutta’s two systems away, and it’ll take us four days, maybe five. I promised Muuurgh he’d have that long to find out if Mrrov is still here, and that, if she is, we’ll take her with us.”

  “That would be good,” Bria said. “I hated the idea of leaving Muuurgh behind. If Teroenza got angry enough, he’d probably kill him for letting us escape, whether Muuurgh was responsible or not.”

  “Right.” Han sighed. “I just wish I could figure out a way to break into Teroenza’s living quarters and search the place until I found where he keeps those ship access codes and the security lock codes for the collection. So far, I’m stumped. I’ve figured out a way to keep the guards busy, but if I can’t get those codes, I may have to change my plans. I might have to set the Welcome Center on fire or something.”

  “Security codes?” Bria frowned and closed her eyes. “Security codes …” She drew a deep breath, then began reciting a string of numbers, symbols, and letters.

  “That sounds like it!” Han grabbed her arm in excitement. “How’d you get them?”

  She gave him a tremulous smile. “They were in Teroenza’s mind. I’m afraid they’re burned into mine, along with everything else. I wish I could forget them—and all that other stuff—but I can’t.”

  He grabbed her shoulders and gave them an ecstatic little shake. “Well, don’t wish that till we’re off this mudhole. Bria, honey, this is great! You’ve saved me a lotta trouble!”

  She smiled at him shakily. “I paid an awful price for it, but if it helps us … I guess it was worth it.”

  “It will be,” Han promised. “Trust me. I swear it will be.”

  She nodded.

  “So all we have to do is avoid arousing suspicion until we’re ready to make the break. That’s gonna be easy for me—Nebl and I will be off-world. Think you can manage to just do business as usual here till we get back?”

  “I think so,” she said. “But … hurry back!”

  “I will, sweetheart,” he said.

  Bria gave Han a pleading look. “After we’re free, could we go to Corellia, Vykk? I want to see my folks again. I want to let them know I’m all right.”

  Han gave her a reassuring smile. “Sure, sweetheart. I’ve got some business to take care of on Corellia, so that’ll be one of our first stops, okay?”

  She gave him a radiant answering smile. “Okay.”

  When Vykk left her at the door to her dorm, Bria told herself that she’d just go upstairs and take a nap until it was time to go to dinner. If anyone asked, she’d plead a headache as an excuse for missing devotions.

  But when she reached her room, she picked up her pilgrim’s robe and cap and stood holding them. Tomorrow, she thought. I’ll start tomorrow. After all, I’ve had a rough couple of days. Nobody could expect me to miss the Exultation just like that. I need a day to work myself up to it …

  And before she knew what she was doing, Bria found herself back in her robes and cap, hurrying down the Path of Immortality, toward the Altar of Promises …

  Two days later a jittery Han and a placid Jalus Nebl stood waiting outside Jiliac the Hutt’s audience room in his Winter Palace. A small holo-recording device rested at Han’s feet; it was designed to project a visual and audio simulacrum of the sender. Nebl was steadying a large, elaborate box on an anti-grav lifter. The box contained the gift Zavval the Hutt had sent to his business associate, and sometime rival, Jiliac.

  “Wonder how much longer we’ll have to wait?” Han muttered nervously, pacing a bit. “It’s been almost an hour.”

  “For an audience with a clan leader, this is nothing,” Jalus Nebl said. “Once I waited two days to even reach the antechamber. And don’t forget, we’ve got to wait for a reply. Once I waited a week.”

  “Don’t tell me that,” Han grumbled. “I don’t want to hear about everything that can go wrong. I’m still skeptical that we’re gonna walk out of this place alive. Hutts are notoriously bad-tempered, y’know.”

  “I already told you, we’re perfectly safe,” the Sullustan replied.

  “Forgive me if I’m being dense, by why can you be so sure of that?” Han snapped.

  “Long ago, in the early days of their coming to Nal Hutta, Hutts lost so many messengers that communications between the clans completely broke down, and everyone lost profit because of it,” Nebl explained. “So all the clans made a sworn pact—a messenger from one Hutt to another is sacrosanct. While we’re delivering Zavval’s message, and taking back his reply, we cannot be touched or interfered with in any way.”

  “Yeah, I sure hope you’re right,” Han mumbled. He looked over at the big box. “I thought Zavval was mad at Jiliac,” he whispered. “So how come he’s sending him a gift?”

  Nebl shook his head. “Gifts are traditional. To gain a Hutt’s attention, you must either present him with a gift or threaten him or her. Sometimes Hutts do both at the same time.”

  Han grimaced. “Weird. You sure you don’t have any idea what’s in there? That box is big enough to hold most anything. Even a body, if you folded it up. I’d feel better if I knew.”

  “The box is sealed,” Nebl pointed out. “If we open it, His Excellency Jiliac will know. We don’t want any trouble.”

  “Yeah … I know.” Han grimaced and, to distract himself from his worries, looked around.

  The antechamber was high-ceilinged, with skylights. It was built of light-colored stone, and the pale walls were hung with tapestries woven (it was said) by Jiliac’s enemies while they languished in his dungeons, waiting for the mercy of execution. One depicted the original Hutt homeworld, the desolate and barren planet Varl, and another the great cataclysm that destroyed it long, long ago. Still another showed the great Hutt diaspora to Nal Hutta in the Y’Toub system. Nal Hutta, Han knew, meant “glorious jewel” in Huttese.

  The last tapestry was a full-sized portrait of Jiliac himself, reclining in state upon his lavishly appointed but tasteful dais.

  Han hadn’t seen much of Nal Hutta, since he and Nebl had been whisked into a droid-chauffeured landspeeder and taken south, to Jiliac’s remote Winter Palace. The Hutt Lord’s retreat was located on a small island near the equator. Jalus Nebl had informed Han that he was lucky, that this island was, by comparison with the rest of Nal Hutta, a virtual “garden spot” on this dank and noisome world.

  This island reminded him of Ylesia—hot, humid, and full of giant trees choked with huge vines.

  Han’s attention jerked back to the here and now when he realized that Dorzo, Jiliac’s Rodian majordomo, was beckoning to them. “His Supreme Excellency Jiliac, clan leader and protector of the righteous, will see you now.”

  Hastily Han picked up his recorder, and then he and Nebl walked i
nto the audience chamber.

  It was huge. Han paced up the central aisle toward the dais, feeling the luxurious pile of an expensive carpet beneath his boots. The chamber was filled with fawning sycophants of all races, tastefully garbed dancing girls and boys, and an orchestra off in one corner. A massive buffet table heaped with food from a dozen worlds made his nostrils twitch as Han suddenly recalled that he’d forgotten to eat lunch.

  Jiliac reclined at his ease on an audience dais, smoking something that Han couldn’t identify, but which he wanted no part of. Even the faint whiff he got of the expelled smoke made his head swim.

  Jalus Nebl nudged Han, and he nervously stepped forward. “Almighty Jiliac,” he said in Huttese, recalling the speech Zavval had rehearsed with him, “we come from our Ylesian master Zavval the Hutt to bring you a message and a gift. First, the gift …” He beckoned to Nebl, and the Sullustan, as agreed, stepped forward.

  Jiliac peered down at them, then ordered, in Huttese, “Open it. I wish to see what Zavval deems worthy of me.”

  “Yes, Your Excellency,” squeaked the Sullustan, who set about slitting all the seals and releasing all the catches.

  Han watched in fascination as the Sullustan raised the lid on the box and withdrew two crystalline globes with bronze supports, which he balanced one upon the other, and then placed the entire contraption upon a sturdy, curved bronze stand.

  All of the metal was chased with gold and silver designs. There was a small housing on the back of the bottom globe that contained some kind of battery, Han thought. The Corellian stared at the thing in perplexity. He had no idea what the device was.

  Jiliac did, however. “A combination hookah and snack-quarium!” he boomed, speaking, of course, in Huttese, which Han by this time understood very well. “And one almost worthy of our greatness! Just what I wanted! How did he know?” He turned his attention back to the two messengers and continued, more formally, “Messengers, Zavval’s gift pleases me. Let us hope his message does, as well. Activate it, human.”

  Han bowed low, set the recorder on a low table, and switched it on. Immediately a holo-simulacrum of Zavval appeared, filling the space before Jiliac’s dais. “My dear Jiliac,” Zavval said, stretching out a hand toward Jiliac, as though he could see the other and were really present. “Over the past year, some unfortunate occurrences have plagued our shipping operations out of Ylesia. Ships have disappeared, and one ship was attacked. As one of the heads of our Kajidier, it was my duty to trace down these despicable incursions.”

  Jiliac’s pleased expression had faded. Han cast a nervous glance at the Sullustan. I sure hope he’s right about us being safe!

  “We have traced these so-called ‘pirates’ to Nar Shaddaa, and recently my operatives have captured and questioned one of the captains of these vessels. This unfortunate individual revealed—before succumbing to a weak heart—that he was recruited and sent upon his villainous missions by you and your great-nephew, Jabba. Your enmity wounds us deeply—and what is more important, cuts into our profit margin. Be warned, Jiliac. Leave our shipments alone. Any more attacks will meet with swift reprisal upon you and your clan. We have assembled a great fleet, which will surely vanquish your paltry forces.”

  We have? thought Han wildly. There’s just me and Nebl! Zavval’s bluffing. Or did he recently hire more pilots?

  Zavval’s message continued, inexorably, “Accept our gift as a peace offering, or meet with grim consequences—among which your own death will be the least. Jiliac, I appeal to you in the name of Hutt brotherhood to cease hijacking and terrorizing our vessels. We can make a much better profit if we work together, instead of contending with each other.”

  By this time, Han and the Sullustan were backing away in terror, because Jiliac was swelling up like a poisoned wound.

  “Heed my warning, Jiliac. Cease your—”

  “AiiiiiieeeeeeaaaaaaarrrrrrrRRGGGGGGGGGG

  HHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

  Jiliac’s scream of fury made Han and Nebl leap behind the buffet table. The Hutt Lord’s tail lashed out in a giant sweep to strike the recording device, sending it flying. Zavval’s image vanished.

  Jiliac slid forward. Han watched in horrified fascination. It was the first time he’d seen a Hutt Lord move under his own power.

  “Messengers!” Jiliac screamed. “Come forth!”

  Slowly, reluctantly, Han and Nebl crawled around the edge of the table and got shakily to their feet. “Yes, Almighty Jiliac?” Nebl quavered. Han was incapable of speech.

  “I send you back to that worm-ridden parasitical infestation who calls himself Zavval,” Jiliac raged, tail lashing, as he moved back and forth. “Tell him he has maligned me and my kin, Jabba. Tell him this lack-witted attempt to incite me into a precipitous attack has failed utterly. I will bide my time. He is a dead Hutt, but for the moment, by my grace, he may pretend to be among the living. I alone will decide when he is to die—and it will be at my convenience. Do you understand, messengers?”

  “Yes, Almighty One!” Han said, having recovered his voice. It was obvious that Jiliac was letting them go, and he wanted nothing more than to get off this world. He bowed, then bowed again. “I’ll tell him exactly what you said!”

  “Good! You may go. Take my message to Zavval—immediately!”

  Bowing, Han and Nebl backed from the audience room. Once outside, they hastily leaped into their transport and ordered the droid driver to return them to the spaceport immediately.

  Han had never been so glad to see the Ylesian Dream waiting for him. He and Jalus Nebl ran across the landing field, scrambled up the ramp, and threw themselves into the control cabin.

  Only when they were out in space, and Han was pulling the lever to send them streaking into hyperspace, did enough of his sense of humor return that he was able to grin feebly at the Sullustan. “Well, Nebl,” he said, “that went well, didn’t it?”

  The Sullustan rolled his large, wet eyes. “You still don’t understand, Vykk,” he said. “When one is dealing with Hutts, there are wheels within wheels within wheels. It’s entirely possible that Zavval sent that message because we are vulnerable, to keep Jiliac from attacking more openly. We’re just underlings. We only see part of the picture. All you can do is pray to any gods you believe in that you never anger a Hutt. One would be better off dead, and that is no understatement.”

  Han nodded. “I believe you. Still, if I were Zavval, I wouldn’t rest too easily at night. He may not have long to live …”

  Muuurgh glided through the jungle in the dimness of the short Ylesian twilight. It had taken him a day and a half to travel the 147 kilometers to Colony Two. Part of his slowness had come from the perilous crossing of the Gachoogai River. He’d been so exhausted by struggling through the rapid current that he’d had to take two hours out of his trip to hunt and then another hour to sleep. He was still tired from his ordeal … but he was finally here.

  He listened for the sounds of chanting voices as he skirted the perimeter of the compound. Colony Two followed, as far as he knew, the same schedule as Colony One, so the pilgrims should be at the evening devotions.

  His nostrils flared as he tested the wind, constantly sniffing for any Togorian spoor. Several times, Muuurgh got down on his hands and knees and moved forward, sniffing, drinking in the scents left by the pilgrims who had recently passed this way.

  Five minutes later he jerked as if he’d been hit with a stun-prod. Mrrov! Mrrov came this way, no more than a day ago! Wandering cautiously around the outskirts of the buildings, he located first the dorm she slept in, then the factory where she worked.

  Lastly, he followed the freshest scent trail to a path that he was sure must lead to the Altar of Promises. Apparently Colony Two was laid out on a nearly identical plan to Colony One.

  Without checking farther, the Togorian melted back into the jungle and moved as quickly as he could toward the site of the devotions. For a moment he wondered whether Mrrov might scent his trail, but it was unlikely. He’d bee
n thoroughly soaked in that river, and had deliberately avoided the instinct to rub against anything and leave scent markers. He didn’t want Mrrov to try following him back to Colony One, and possibly becoming lost in the jungle when his trail was interrupted by the river.

  The Togorian arrived just in time to automatically resist the mental and physical waves of the Exultation. Narrowing his eyes, Muuurgh scanned the writhing forms in front of him—

  —and found Mrrov. She was twitching, but not really writhing … and there was something false about the way she moved that allowed him to pick her out easily.

  She is faking, Muuurgh thought. I knew Mrrov was too strong-minded to be fooled by these liars for long!

  He strained his eyes to make out every line of her beneath her pilgrim’s robe. But all he could see clearly was her head, orange stripes contrasting vividly with the white. He longed to see her lovely yellow eyes, but he was behind her and to her right. She could not see him.

  For a second, Muuurgh nearly threw caution and his vow to Vykk to the winds—it was everything he could do not to race into the crowd of pilgrims, grab his mate-to-be, and carry her off into the jungle.

  But he had given Vykk his word of honor. Mrrov must not know he was here.

  As the pilgrims staggered to their feet, the Exultation over, Muuurgh’s eyes widened as he saw that Mrrov was wearing a blue sash—as were about fifty of the hundred or so pilgrims at the devotion.

  That sash! That’s the sash of the Chosen Ones! Oh, no! He could have hissed aloud in his frustration and fear. Muuurgh had been on Ylesia for many months. He’d seen those sashes before.

  Sure enough, as the pilgrims began shuffling into the night, the High Priest stepped up to call out to them in his booming voice. “All pilgrims who were issued blue sashes today, please remain behind! Your High Priest has an announcement to make!”

  Obediently, the pilgrims with blue sashes stopped walking toward the path and instead shuffled forward. Mrrov looked as though she was thinking of yanking off her sash and making a run for it, but she didn’t. Muuurgh yowled inwardly. Does she know what those sashes mean?