He passed the mouth of another alley, and there, in the ooze, several of the troglodytes crouched, tearing and ripping at something, cramming bits of it into their red-stained mouths. Revolted, Han drew his blaster, snapped off a shot over their heads, and watched them scatter.
He didn’t go any closer to their prey, but swallowed uneasily when he saw that human-shaped ribs protruded from the mangled chest. Minions of Xendor, what kind of place is this?
His legs were growing very tired. He wasn’t wearing a chrono, but when he passed beneath an airshaft, Han tilted his head far, far back and stared up at the dizzying height. A faint square of pallid light was visible at the very top. Light’s going. By the time I’ll be able to reach the rendezvous, it’ll be dark … For the first time in hours, Han thought of Bria, and was very glad he hadn’t taken her with him to the bank this morning.
She would be worried, he knew that. With a sigh, Han found another stairway and started the long, long climb upward.
By the time he’d reached a level that had such amenities as parks, and park benches to sit on, Han’s legs were cramped and he was shaky with exhausion. He slumped onto the bench, wondering, for the first time, what he’d do now.
He was so tired and disheartened that his mind spun like a creature trapped inside a barrel, rolling downhill. Gotta think, he told himself. I can’t go back to Bria like this …
But, despite his best efforts, no solution to his present dilemma presented itself. Han got to his feet and shambled off toward the nearest turbolift, feeling like one of the troglodytes he’d seen—only marginally human.
When he checked his locator, he found that it was working again, and he began following it to the coordinates he’d told Bria about.
Level 132, megablock 17, block 5, subblock 12 … he kept repeating to himself. As he ascended the levels to ones that were, to his mind, livable, his stomach growled when he caught whiffs of enticing odors from cafés and restaurants he passed.
Finally, he saw a sign lighting up the night in a sleazy section that bordered the alien enclave. A huge, venom-dripping Devaronian fur-spider, picked out in garish greenish-black lights, dangled from an eye-searing scarlet web. The Glow Spider. At last …
Noise and bustle filled the streets, and many of the passersby were the worse for drink or drugs. Han passed the mouth of an alley and saw someone activate a light, then the blue flash and sizzle as a dose of glitterstim ignited.
Han paused in an alcove across the street from the cantina, wondering whether Bria was waiting outside or inside. He hoped she hadn’t gone inside alone … or had she gone to try and make contact with Nici the Specialist? He sighed, wiped his sweaty face with his hand, and felt his head spin from exhaustion, thirst, and hunger.
As he hesitated, Han felt someone grab his arm. He spun on his heel, hand going to the front of his jacket where the blaster was hidden, and then stopped when he saw Bria. “Honey!” he gasped, grabbing her and holding her so tightly she began to struggle after a second. She felt—and smelled—so good!
“Han!” she gasped. “I can’t breathe!”
He relaxed his grip slightly, stood swaying. She pushed his hair back from his brow, staring anxiously up into his eyes. “Oh, Han! What happened?”
Han felt his throat close up, and for a moment he was afraid he might disgrace himself and start bawling. But he took a deep breath, shook his head, and said, “Not here. Let’s find a place to stay and some food. I’m done in.”
Half an hour later, they were locked inside their room in a dingy flophouse. Han had been in worse, but it hurt him to see Bria’s brave attempt to pretend she wasn’t shocked by the dirt, the smells, and the scuttling insects. But the place was cheap and seemed secure.
The first thing Han did was wash up and drink several glasses of water. He still felt light-headed, but the smell of the carry-in food revived him somewhat. He sat down on the edge of the rickety bed, and he and Bria took turns eating out of the single container.
The food returned some energy to Han’s exhausted body. He swallowed the last bite and sat back, staring hollow-eyed at Bria, wondering where to begin.
“Han, you have to tell me,” she said. “I know from your expression that it’s bad. You didn’t get the money, did you?”
Han shook his head, then, slowly, haltingly, he told her what had happened. Tears filled Bria’s eyes as she sat listening to him. Finally, he stopped … or ran down. “And I made it back here,” he finished. “The rest … the rest you know. Honey”—he looked at her, feeling his throat close up—“this is it. There’s no place left to turn. I can’t think of anything to do except use the last of our credits to try and get off-world. Then … we can work. I can get a job piloting, I know I can.” He sighed and buried his head in his hands.
“Baby … this is my fault. I should have realized the Hutts would run an all-system scan on my retinal patterns, and that they’d turn up all my aliases. I thought I’d been smart—but I was dumb as a box of rocks. Oh, Bria …” He groaned, and turned to her, sliding his arms around her, putting his head on her shoulder. “Can you forgive me?”
She kissed his forehead and said softly, “There’s nothing to forgive. It wasn’t your fault. If you hadn’t done what you did, I’d be in a pleasure-house being passed around from one stormtrooper to another. Never forget that, Han. You are a hero. You saved me, and I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he said, looking into her eyes. “I couldn’t say it before … but … I want you to know. I love you, Bria.”
She nodded, and a tear broke loose and coursed down her cheek. Han wiped it away with a fingertip. “Don’t cry,” he said. “I admit I came close to it myself, earlier, but I’ve been thinking. If we can just get off this blasted world, I know we can manage. We can work. We’ll make a life … I know we can.” He hesitated, then blurted, “We could even get married, sweetheart. If you want.”
He could tell she was profoundly moved by his awkward proposal, but she shook her head. “Your dreams, Han. You can’t give them up. We’ve gotten this close. We have to think of something. You’re going to be an officer in the Imperial Navy, remember?”
It was his turn to shake his head. “Not anymore, Bria. That’s over, now. I’ve gotta think of what else I’m gonna do with my life.”
“Oh, Han!” she began to cry in earnest. “I can’t bear to see you so hurt!”
“I’m okay,” he insisted, though it was a lie.
Bria laid her head against his chest, then held him tightly. “We’re okay for tonight,” Han said. “Tomorrow we’ve gotta do some heavy-duty planning.”
She was kissing him now, his cheek, his chin, his jaw … little, desperate, grazing kisses. Han held her tightly and captured her mouth, kissing her, touching her cheek, running his fingers through her hair, desperate to touch her, to be healed by her touch.
The dingy little room faded away, and all he could think about was how glad he was to be with her …
· · ·
In the early hours before daylight, on this world where night and day meant very little to anyone who wasn’t living a wealthy “top-level” existence, Bria Tharen sat huddled in the grubby, cramped refresher unit. In her hands was a stylus, and before her was a sheet of flimsy and a large stack of credits.
Faintly, from the bedroom, she could hear Han snoring lightly. He was so exhausted he’d never heard her get up and leave, never awakened when she’d returned, hours later.
Now she struggled with the flimsy and the stylus, stopping every so often to wipe away the tears that blurred her eyes, making it almost impossible to write. Six or seven times she’d voided the flimsy and started over, but time was ticking by, and she couldn’t be here when Han awoke. If he awakened, Bria knew, she’d never, ever, be able to make herself go.
So she was taking the coward’s way out, once again. Her sobs caught in her throat, and she pressed both hands against her chest. For a moment she wondered whether her heart might stop from the pain
she felt, then she shook her head and told herself to stop delaying. I’m so sorry, she made herself write. Please forgive me for doing this …
Tonight, for the first time, she’d realized that Han might not achieve his lifelong dream if she stayed with him. She’d been dragging him down, holding him back, for weeks, but she hadn’t wanted to admit it. But tonight … seeing the anguish in his eyes, hearing the catch in his voice—it had been too terrible to bear.
So she had slipped out, found a bar where the proprietor had let her pay him to borrow his comm unit, and called her father. Bria had appealed for help, both for herself and for Han. The pile of credit vouchers on the floor was the result. Renn Tharen was a man who knew how to get things done, and he had wasted no time. The money had been delivered to Bria by one of her father’s Coruscant business associates, who had handed her the credits, refused thanks, then headed back out into the night, clearly glad to get away from the sleazy, all-night tavern.
During their brief conversation, Bria’s father had warned her not to come home. Renn Tharen told her that inspectors from CorSec had come to the house shortly after Bria and Han escaped, asking about Bria’s whereabouts. “I told them nothing,” he said. “And your brother and mother aren’t speaking to me, because I cut off their allowances for a month, even though they swore they hadn’t called CorSec. Be careful, dear …”
“I will, Dad,” Bria promised. “I love you, Dad. Thanks …”
I’ve hurt him, too, Bria thought. Why do I always hurt the people I love the most?
Despair filled her, but she refused to let herself break down. All she could do for Han, if she loved him, was to leave him. Be strong, Bria, she commanded herself.
Gripping the stylus tightly, Bria wiped away her tears, then forced herself to finish the most difficult letter she would ever write …
Han knew something was wrong even before he opened his eyes. There was no sound, none at all. “Bria?” he called. Where is she? Sliding out of bed, he pulled on his clothes. “Bria, honey?”
No answer.
Han took a deep breath and told his wildly hammering heart to calm down. She probably went out to get some stim-tea and pastry for breakfast, he told himself. It was a reasonable guess, under the circumstances—but something told him that he was wrong.
He sealed the front of his coverall, then picked up his jacket. Only then did he notice that Bria’s duffel was gone.
With a low moan of anguish, he saw something white protruding from the pocket of his jacket. Han pulled it out—and found himself holding a pouch filled with high-denomination credit vouchers. And there was something else, too …
A note. Written on creased and folded flimsy. Han shut his eyes, clutching it. It was nearly a full minute before he could force himself to open his eyes, force himself to read:
Dearest Han:
You don’t deserve for this to happen, and all I can say is, I’m sorry. I love you, but I can’t stay …
She’ll come back, was Han’s first thought, and I’ve lost her forever … was his second. He stared wildly around the room, feeling as if it might explode if he didn’t DO something. With a loud curse he hurled his jacket at the wall, then he yanked the pillows off the bed and flung them, too. Not enough—Han wondered frantically if he were going mad. His head felt too small to contain his mind, and he was filled with the need to howl his pain and anguish aloud, like a Wookiee.
“AAAAHHHHHHHHH!” he cried, and grabbing the battered chair that was one of the room’s three pieces of furniture, Han swung it over his head and sent it crashing full-tilt into the door. A loud curse from his next-door neighbor followed. The chair lay there on the threadbare floor matting, unbroken. The door was still intact, too.
Han collapsed onto the bed and just lay there for several minutes, head buried in his arms. The pain came and went in waves. His chest ached, simply breathing hurt. His only relief came when he felt numb all over.
Somehow, the numbness was the worst of all.
After a long time, it occurred to Han that he had not finished Bria’s letter. Except for the pile of credit vouchers, it was all he had left of her, so he dragged himself upright and squinted in the dim light to read the shaky words on the flimsy:
Dearest Han,
You don’t deserve for this to happen, and all I can say is, I’m sorry. I love you, but I can’t stay …
Every day I wonder if I’m going to snap and take the next ship back to Ylesia. I’m afraid I’m not strong enough to resist—but I must resist. I must face the fact that I am addicted to the Exultation, and that I must fight this addiction. I will need all my energy to do this and win, I’m afraid. I’ve been leaning on you for strength, but that’s not good for either of us. You need all your strength and determination to pass those tests and make it through the Academy.
Please don’t abandon your dream of becoming an officer, Han. Don’t be afraid to use the money I left. My father gave it to us freely, because he likes you and is grateful to you. Like me, he recognizes that you saved my life. Accept his gift, please. We both want you to succeed.
I’ve learned so much from you. How to love, how to be loyal and brave. I’ve also learned how to find people who will help me change my identity, so don’t bother looking for me. I’m going away, and I’m going to beat this addiction. I’m going to do it if it takes my last measure of strength and courage.
You’ve been free all your life, Han. And strong. I envy you for that. I’m going to be free someday, too. And strong.
Maybe then, we can meet again.
Try not to hate me too much for what I’m doing. I dont blame you if you do, though. Please know that, now and forever, I love you …
Yours,
Bria
Han made himself finish the letter all the way through. Each word burned its way into his mind like a laser torch. When he finished, he decided to go back and reread it, because he was trying to put off the moment when he’d have to start feeling and thinking again. While he was reading Bria’s flimsy, it was as if she were still here. He could almost hear her voice. Han knew that the moment he stopped reading, she would be gone again.
But this time, although he squinted hard, he couldn’t make out the words. They were too blurred.
“Honey,” he whispered to the letter, his throat so raw that he could barely force the words out, “you shouldn’t have done this. We were a team, remember?”
Hearing himself use the past tense, Han shuddered, like a man in the grip of a fever. He got up and began pacing back and forth, back and forth. Moving seemed to be the only thing that could help him bear this. Waves of anger and frustration alternated with moments of grief so profound that he thought it might be easier to go mad.
She lied. Never loved me. Rich girl, stuck-up, just having a fling … used me to escape, used me till she got bored. I hate her …
Han groaned aloud, shaking his head. No I don’t. I love her. How could she do this to me? She said she loved me. Liar! Liar? No … she meant it. Face it, Han, she’s been suffering, you know it. Bria was troubled, in pain …
Yes, she’d been in pain. Han remembered all those nights he’d found her sobbing, and had held her, tried to comfort her. Baby … why? I tried so hard to help. You shouldn’t be alone. You should have stayed. We’d have worked it out …
He was terrified that her addiction might send her running back to Ylesia. Han had no illusions about Teroenza’s reaction if she did. The t’landa Til had no capacity to feel pity or to be merciful. The High Priest would order Bria killed if he ever laid eyes on her again.
Han stared dazedly around the squalid little room. Had it only been last night that they’d been here, in each other’s arms? Bria had held him tightly, fiercely. Now Han realized the reason for her passion. She’d known she was holding him for the last time …
He shook his head. How could things change so irrevocably in just a few hours?
Turn time back, some childish part of his mind said. Make it be TH
EN, not NOW. I don’t like NOW. I want it to be THEN …
But of course that was stupid. Han caught his breath, and the sound was ragged, filled with pain. Almost a sob.
Suddenly he couldn’t stand being here, seeing this dreadful little room, any longer. Stuffing his few belongings into his small bag, Han distributed handfuls of credit vouchers into his inside pockets, against his skin. Then he put on his ancient jacket and stuffed the blaster into the front of it.
He walked out, down the hall, past the sleazy-looking woman at the desk.
And kept walking …
All day he walked, moving like a droid through the unsavory crowds of this area, which was one of the “borderline” red-light districts that intersected with one of the nonhuman enclaves. He did not eat, could not face the idea of food.
He was always conscious of the stolen blaster in the front of his jacket. With part of his mind, Han rather hoped that someone would try to rob him. That would give him an excuse to lash out, to maim or kill—he wanted to destroy something. Or someone.
But nobody bothered him. Perhaps there was some aura he projected, some body language that warned others to keep “hands off.”
His mind kept playing tug-of-war with his heart. He went over and over everything they’d ever said and done. Had he done something wrong? Was Bria a lovely, troubled, but decent girl fighting a deadly addiction? Or was she a spoiled, callous rich kid who’d been playing a cruel game? Had she ever really loved him?
At some point Han found himself on a street corner between two massive stone piles of rubble. In his hands was Bria’s flimsy, and he was trying to read it by the flickering light of a brothel’s sign. Han blinked. Must be raining … His face was wet …
He looked up at the sky, but of course, there was no sky, only a rooftop, high above. He held out a hand, palm up. No rain.
Folding the letter, Han put it away carefully. He resisted the momentary urge to shred it, or blast it into cinders. Something told him he’d regret it if he did.
Whatever she was, she’s GONE, he decided, straightening his shoulders. She’s not coming back, and I’ve gotta pull myself together. First thing tomorrow, I go looking for Nici the Specialist at The Glow Spider …
Star Wars: The Han Solo Trilogy I: The Paradise Snare Page 29
