“Too many to fight,” Bria said, her voice ragged.
“They’re not getting me without a fight,” Han said. He drew his blaster and looked at them. “Who’s with me?”
Bria just shook her head. “The three of us? Against forty? Han, you’ve got more courage than sense!”
He shook his head and, with a sudden, vicious gesture, holstered his blaster again. “You’re right. But I don’t have to like it.”
Without warning, a sudden crackle of a different frequency filled the control cabin. A voice spoke in rapid-fire Sullustan. “Full throttle. Port turn. Seven seconds—Mark!”
“What the—” Han’s fingers moved automatically as he throttled back up, using every bit of power he could squeeze out of the main and auxiliary engines. The sound of the straining engines was painful to hear as they revved, uselessly fighting the inexorable tractor beam.
By now the Talisman had been nearly drawn into the gaping maw of the ship’s docking bay. Only a few hundred meters separated the two ships.
Han programmed his controls for a hard port turn, and his hand hovered, ready to implement the command. The engines strained and revved. In moments they’d burn out. “What’s that crazy little—”
He broke off with a gasp as the Ylesian Dream came streaking toward them, moving at terrible speed.
Everyone in the Talisman’s control cabin ducked as the little freighter flashed by overhead, then banked hard to starboard. Jalus Nebl took the Ylesian Dream between the Talisman and Helot’s Shackle at full throttle. The distance was so tight that the little Sullustan had to turn the Dream on her side to make it between the two closing vessels.
“Go!” cried Han. “Go, Nebl!” He activated the controls, turning the Talisman as hard to port as he could.
When the Dream rushed between the two ships, it broke the tractor beam for a few precious seconds. Han’s suddenly released ship ricocheted away from the Corellian corvette like a blaster bolt, sheering off to the left, while Jalus Nebl sped away to the right.
“Yeeeeehah!” Han yelled in sheer exultation as he felt his ship soaring away from the Helot’s Shackle. As he swooped by the huge vessel, just for good measure, Han fired two concussion missiles at the Shackle’s principle solar collector and stabilizer fin, which was located dorsally amidships.
He watched, openmouthed, as the first missile wiped out the minimal shield that had been all that was protecting the fin, allowing the second missile to explode with deadly force, destroying most of the fin. “They had their heavy shields down, those idiots!” he whooped. “They thought they had us, so they left that fin almost unshielded!”
He knew the corvette could still be a threat to them, so he didn’t slow down. Neither did Jalus Nebl. The little Sullustan was still gaining speed when Han’s sensors reported several minutes later that he’d successfully made the jump to hyperspace.
“And we’re next,” Han said, grinning at Bria. “Say goodbye to paradise, sweetheart …”
With a flourish, he stabbed down at the controls that would take them into hyperspace, and gloried in the sudden surge of power that thrust them out of realspace and into star-streaked brilliance.
“Home free,” Han whispered, and slumped into his seat, only just now aware of how very, very tired he was.
Bria smiled at him and squeezed his hand. Mrrov gave him a cheek rub. “Thank you,” they both whispered.
Han had never felt so good …
Han awakened to the sound of soft, muffled sobbing. He had been sleeping on the floor in Teroenza’s living area, on a pile of expensive carpets he’d dragged into place. He’d insisted that Bria take the one human-style bed. Since Mrrov had been the only one who’d gotten any rest the previous night, she’d volunteered to doze in the pilot’s seat and keep an eye out for alarms—though now that they’d reached hyperspace, there wasn’t much that could go wrong.
Han sat up with a groan, feeling stiff. Yesterday had been a hard day, and he now remembered, belatedly, that he hadn’t eaten anything. Thirst was even worse than hunger. Climbing to his feet, he staggered over to the room’s water dispenser and drank several cups.
As he did so, his hand brushed his face, and he frowned as he touched his chin and felt thick, generous stubble. He had forgotten to shave since before they’d landed on Nal Hutta.
The sounds of human sobbing had stopped. Han grabbed his clothes and went into the luxurious refresher unit, glad that it contained appointments for almost all types of species. He even managed to find a shaver.
Minutes later, clothed and feeling considerably better, he went in search of Bria.
He found her in the tiny guard’s room, sitting up on the little bunk, arms around her knees, her face pressed against them. “Hey …” Han whispered. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
She didn’t raise her face, just waved him away. “No … please, just … let me … alone. I’ll be … all right. I don’t want you … to see me like this.” She sniffled. “I look … terrible.”
Han sat down beside her, but didn’t touch her. “I look terrible, too,” he said. “We could all do with a change of clothes. Hey …” he joked, trying to make her look at him, “at least I got rid of the beard. That’s a big improvement.”
She raised her head and gave him a watery smile. Her nose and eyes were red, but she still looked lovely to Han. “You did look kind of … scruffy … last night.”
Han drew himself up, pretending to take umbrage. “Scruffy? Me? Never!” He slid an arm around her gently. “Bria, honey … what’s wrong? Tell me.”
She began to shudder. “It’s the Exultation, Han. I woke up and realized that the pilgrims are gathering for devotions right now. And I realized I’ll never have it again—never feel that good again!”
Han didn’t know what to say. He realized that Bria was missing the physical and emotional sensations that accompanied the Exultation just as an addict would miss a dose of his or her drug of choice. The realization scared him. Would Bria be able to fight this dependency and win? Or would she go through life mourning what she’d lost?
“I think that’s natural,” he said cautiously, not wanting to frighten her by voicing his real thoughts. “Of course you’d miss it for a day or so, maybe a week. But we’ll all help you through it, honey. You’re a strong person. You’ll get through it. And then”—he made an all-encompassing gesture with his hand—“it’s a big galaxy, sweetheart. And it’s all ours, now. We’ll sell Teroenza’s stuff, and sell the Talisman—”
“Sell the Talisman?” she broke in.
“Yeah, I’m afraid it’s too recognizable. I’ll take Muuurgh and Mrrov home, and then we’ll look for a place to sell this ship. I think I know one. A used-ship dealer on Tralus, in the Corellian system. But we can easily book passage on a ship from there to Corellia.”
He gave her shoulders a squeeze. “And there’s one big advantage to that … I won’t be busy piloting. You’ll have my”—gently he kissed her cheek—“undivided attention.”
She swallowed and looked flustered. Han started to lean toward her again, but she pulled back, slightly, and he took the hint.
She bit her lip, her blue-green eyes haunted. “Oh, Han … what if I can’t get over this … this … longing? Han”—she twisted her hands together in a convulsive gesture—“it’s worse than a longing! It’s like a … a craving! My whole self is crying out to be Exulted! I feel like someone punched a big hole in me and took part of me away!”
She began to shiver violently. Han pulled her to him, held her tightly, and stroked her hair, murmuring words of comfort. Inside, though, his mind was racing, and he realized that he was scared, too. Scared of how much he felt for this woman. Han had had some pretty definite plans regarding Bria that had involved them spending copious amounts of time alone, in each other’s arms.
But she’s not ready for that, he realized with a sinking feeling. She needs a friend, not a lover.
How long would it take for Bria to regain he
rself?
Only time would tell.
· · ·
“Coming up on Togoria,” Han said, “where should I land us?”
“Our largest city is Caross,” Mrrov told him, indicating an area on the schematic of the planet. “From Caross we can send a messenger to the Margrave of Togoria, the ruler of all the male hunters. There is a landing field just outside Caross. We do not have our own ships, yet, but traders and passenger ships from other worlds visit our planet.”
“Okay, then, Caross it is,” Han said. With great care he piloted the Talisman down to a perfect landing in the center of the field. At the moment, no other ships were present.
“Muuurgh,” Han said as he updated his log, “are you two worried about reprisals from the t’landa Til or the Hutts?”
“Not greatly,” Muuurgh said, ostentatiously flexing his claws. “When Mrrov and I have assembled our tribes, we will be wed. It is then traditional with our people for a newly married couple to spend a long—what do you call it?” He said a word in his own language to Mrrov, whose Basic was much better than his own.
“Honeymoon,” she supplied.
“Yes, a long honeymoon together. Remember that on our world, males and females live separately for much of each year. Once we are past our honeymoon, Mrrov and I will see each other only once a year, for about a month. It is our way of life. But first”—the giant Togorian gave his mate-to-be a cheek rub—“we will spend a long time together, just the two of us, in the mountains. The Hutts and Ylesians will not find us, and our people will not tolerate their looking. Any pilot that lands on Togoria and asks questions about Mrrov or Muuurgh will be … dealt with.”
Mrrov gave a feral smile that showed many needle-sharp teeth. “Not many species have the courage to intentionally anger Torgorians. I believe most bounty hunters would rather hunt … easier … prey.”
“I can believe it,” Han said sincerely. “Okay, then. We’re here. Now what? Do you two just walk off, claw in claw?” He grinned at Bria, who gave him a wan smile. Food and rest had restored her somewhat, but he knew she was still battling her inner demons and longings.
“If Han must leave, Muuurgh and Mrrov will understand,” said the giant male. “But if Han and Bria could stay for a day or two, they would be able to stand with us at our ceremony that will make us a mated couple. You would call it a ‘wedding.’ ”
Han looked over at Bria. “So … we’ve just been invited to a wedding, sweetheart. Want to stay for a couple of days? I think we could both use a rest.”
“Sure,” she said, and smiled at the Togorians. “Nothing could please me more.”
A contingent of Togorian females, with a small scattering of visiting males, was approaching the ship. Han and his party walked down the ramp. Mrrov and Muuurgh were immediately enfolded by the crowd, amid roars and yowls and vibrating purrs of happiness.
Still standing at the bottom of the ramp, Han took Bria’s hand and looked around him at Togoria. “Nice planet,” he said. “After Ylesia, this seems like a real paradise.”
“It is beautiful,” she agreed. “Just right.”
It was, indeed, a beautiful world. Overhead arced a deep blue sky, with a few puffy white clouds. The sky held just a tint of green to it, so it was almost indigo around the horizon. Tall mountain peaks shone white and glistening in the distance. Dark forests made a backdrop for a blue lake surrounded by meadowlands. Exotic green-fringed white blooms with scarlet leaves waved in the gentle breeze.
Overhead, Han spotted a large flying creature, and realized it must be one of the mosgoths Muuurgh had told him were the principal means of travel on Togoria. Mosgoths were large flying lizards, very intelligent. Togorians had domesticated the mosgoths long ago. Each species worked together to protect each other against even larger winged reptiles, the deadly liphons who stole both Togorian cubs and mosgoth eggs.
As Han watched, the mosgoth circled the landing field, and then began to descend. Han saw the Togorian male perched on its back, guiding it by means of a nose-halter. He was impressed by the rapport that appeared to exist between mount and rider.
Togorian air was some of the cleanest, most refreshing Han had ever breathed. Mrrov had told him earlier that all Togorian technology was based on solar power, for just this reason. Togorians revered their world and had no wish to despoil it or pollute it in the name of progress, as so many other species in the galaxy had done.
Han took an experimental step or two, then bounced on his heels. He felt light … almost buoyant. That fit, for Togoria’s gravity was somewhat less than Corellian or Ylesian gravity.
Suddenly the crowd parted, and Muuurgh, still bandaged but walking with almost his old confident stride, emerged, with Mrrov at his side. “Our clans are being summoned for the mating ceremony, and the feast that will follow,” he said. “You are our welcome guests. Please … follow us.”
Han and Bria followed.
Caross proved to be a lovely city—white native stone was used to build terraced houses against the hillsides. Everywhere gardens abounded, and parks for strolling. Togorian females busied themselves with projects, or cared for rowdy cubs. Muuurgh explained that both female and male cubs remained with their mothers until they neared adulthood, then the males returned to the clan with their fathers to learn the ways of the hunter’s life.
During the next two days, Han and Bria rested, ate delicious meals (though they insisted on their meat being cooked), and took long strolls together around the parks, through the gardens. Han also took flying lessons from a young male, Rrowv—lessons on how to ride and control a mosgoth. With his quick reflexes and daring, Han was soon soaring astride his mount far above the treetops, glorying in the feel of the sturdy ribbed wings pumping behind him as he sat in the small saddle mounted on the mosgoth’s shoulders.
The mosgoths proved to be affectionate creatures that enjoyed having their tiny ear flaps scratched and their chests rubbed.
All through the day following their arrival, mosgoths bearing male riders arrived from all over Togoria. The word had gone out that Muuurgh the hunter had returned, and all his clan-relatives were gathering to welcome him home and attend his and Mrrov’s wedding.
Muuurgh and Mrrov were kept busy relating their adventures among the stars to audiences of their people. Mrrov never tired of repeating the story of what had happened to her, lest some other unwary female Togorian be sucked in by promises of a Ylesian “paradise.”
The wedding “ceremony” took place at sunset of their third day on Togoria. Han and Bria stood beside Muuurgh and Mrrov as they solemnly faced their assembled clans. Their fur gleamed from hours of careful grooming. Only the small white bandage on Muuurgh’s side marred his shining coat. On their native world, Togorians rarely wore clothing—their weather was so clement that it was seldom needed.
First the betrothed couple faced their clans, turning slowly so that all might see their faces. At Muuurgh’s signal, Han and Bria then stepped back to stand with the crowd of onlookers.
Mrrov and Muuurgh turned to face each other. Han blinked in surprise as a low, growling yowl began emanating from their throats. Both bared their teeth and hissed. Their claws sprang out.
Then, so quickly that the eye could scarcely follow, they sprang at each other and went down on the ground, teeth locked in each other’s throats. Growling, yowling, and snarling, they rolled over and over, slashing at each other with their front paw-hands. Their feet were busy, too, digging deep into each other’s furred belly.
Han looked over at Bria, who was looking faintly alarmed. But no one in the crowd seemed to find anything amiss about what was happening. It takes all kinds to make a galaxy … Han thought.
Finally, panting and growling, the two combatants broke apart. Despite the apparent ferocity of their attacks, no blood was visible on their coats. The two circled each other, and their yowls gradually died away into soft, gentle noises. They stood close together, rubbing their faces against each other for a long time. Han
could hear their hoarse purring from where he was standing.
Then, suddenly, Mrrov hissed, spat, and lashed out at Muuurgh again. He leaped at her, and then they were down on the ground again, rolling and clawing and biting.
Han gave Bria’s hand a squeeze. “Romantic, isn’t it?” he whispered with a grin.
“Shhhhh!” she replied.
Moments later the nuptial pair were purring and rubbing against each other, eyes half-closed with pleasure.
The crowd was getting more excited. Han could hear a vibrating purr arising from all sides. Again Muuurgh and Mrrov went through their “fighting” act.
But this time, when they reached the cheek-rubbing stage, Muuurgh grabbed Mrrov by the loose folds of skin at the back of her neck. Clutching her in his teeth and powerful arms, he lifted her smaller form and carried her across the circle. The crowd parted before them, opening like a door.
Muuurgh vanished into the darkness, still carrying his mate. Moments later two loud, triumphantly ecstatic yowls broke the stillness—and then silence reigned.
The crowd murmured their approval of the completion of the rite. Han was nearly knocked over by Togorian relatives of Muuurgh’s slapping his shoulders and assuring him that that had been one of the finest weddings they had ever been privileged to witness.
They feasted into the night. Han and Bria slipped away to take a walk in the park, beneath Togoria’s two tiny moons. The stars blazed overhead. “So,” Han said, “how did today go? Is it getting any easier?”
She nodded slightly. “A little. Sometimes I can go a whole hour without missing it, Han. Sometimes, though, I feel like the minutes are just crawling by, and I’m hanging on to my sanity by my fingernails.”
“Well, tomorrow I’ve got something special planned,” he said, smiling at her. “Get ready to have some fun. I’ve got everything arranged.”
“What?” she asked. “What are we going to do?”
“That’d be telling,” he teased, “Just prepare to get up with the birds, okay?”
Star Wars: The Han Solo Trilogy I: The Paradise Snare Page 23
