Pirate's Price

by Lou Anders

  I tumbled forward, falling to the dirty ground of the spaceport, and the blaster bolt passed over my head. It had missed me by a hair’s breadth, which was pretty close considering that my own hair and I had parted company some time before!

  I fell on my face, but I was quick to flip over and stand up. You do not live as long as I have by staying down. Then I turned and saw my savior, standing where he had shoved me out of the way.

  “Han Solo,” I said, “you have saved me!”

  “I’m as surprised as you are,” he replied.

  But then Mahjo Reeloo was lining up another shot, blaster raised to fire again.

  And then someone careened into her, knocking her aside.

  And that new person, she was also Mahjo Reeloo.

  There were two Mahjo Reeloos before me, and they were identical in every respect, including their clothing. The other Mahjo even wore the same slender wrist controller band that worked the zappy-zappy and the defoliator bomb.

  “How can this be?” I said. “Two Mahjo Reeloos.”

  “She’s a clone, you idiot,” said Solo.

  And then I understood.

  “Of course, of course, of course,” I said. “Of course a Kaminoan scientist would grow his own assistants. Mahjo Reeloo is a clone.”

  But the new Mahjo Reeloo, she turned her blaster on my Mahjo. I chopped at her wrist with my hand, knocking her blaster off its aim.

  It fired into the air.

  People around us were screaming. Pedestrians began to run every which way.

  “Get to the ship!” the new Mahjo yelled to Kolac Pru.

  You know what? From here, let us call her Evil Mahjo to aid in what is going to be a confusing enough situation as it is.

  Evil Mahjo and Good Mahjo began to struggle over the blaster.

  “Don’t let him get away!” Good Mahjo shouted at me.

  Well, the two Mahjos looked about evenly matched—no joke—so I ran after Kolac Pru.

  To my left, I saw Han Solo converging on the Kaminoan, as well. And to my right, there was Chewbacca, tossing panicking Vulptereens out of his way.

  But Kolac Pru was fast—have you seen the long legs on a Kaminoan?

  And then he ducked behind a Gwongdeenian sub-subterranean gastropod that was waiting for everyone to get out of its way.

  And wouldn’t you know it? The Kaminoan had a blaster, too.

  Luckily, I threw myself aside at the last minute as the bolts went bdew-bdew over my head.

  Behind me, I heard the scream of a Vulptereen who was not so lucky.

  Behind the cover of the snail, Kolac Pru ran for a cargo bay.

  I glanced back to see the two Mahjos still in combat with each other. Then Solo, Chewbacca, and I ran into the bay.

  The Kaminoan fired more shots.

  There were bundles of cargo boxes everywhere, ready to be loaded for transport.

  We ducked behind some, as did he.

  “Just give us the thornsuckle!” hollered Solo. “Then you can walk away.”

  Kolac Pru laughed.

  “And double-cross the Mandragonian Mob?” he replied. “I would not walk very far.”

  Well, it was a standoff, waiting for something in the situation to change.

  And then it did.

  A further complication!

  Because who should come rushing up behind Kolac Pru, blasters blazing, but Trunc Adurmush and his gang of Pakiphantos.

  “Oh, look,” said Kolac Pru. “My ride is here.”

  “Han Solo? Here?”

  Trunc Adurmush was so startled, he blew a long, loud trumpet through his trunk.

  “Bawruuuuuuhuuuraaaa!”

  Well, any pedestrians who hadn’t already run for cover were making themselves scarce then, I can tell you.

  “You really get up his nose, don’t you, Solo?” I called. Then I saw Trunc Adurmush scowl. After all, he had himself recently been up a nose.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” I added. “I didn’t mean to offend. I really blew it there, didn’t I? Oh, sorry, I’ve done it again. I should nose better—uh—know better. No nose.”

  “Enough,” said Trunc. And he fired his blaster at me. I dove for cover, as did my companions. Solo drew his gun, Chewbacca his bowcaster, and just like that, all the blasters were blasting away again. Bdew-bdew-bdow.

  Then I saw Kolac Pru slipping away.

  “He’s making his escape!” I called. But I couldn’t go after him. None of us could. We were pinned down.

  “I’ve got an idea!” shouted Solo. “Cover me.”

  “With what?” I answered.

  But Solo was already moving. He ran toward a repulsorcart that held a single cargo container. Giving the cart a shove, he jumped on it.

  He stood half-protected by the container, firing his blaster as he sailed closer and closer to the Pakiphantos. He looked very heroic indeed. Or recklessly foolish. Maybe both.

  But with everyone focused on Solo, Chewbacca was able to stand and shoot his bowcaster.

  Soon Trunc’s gang were the ones scattering for cover. What a team that crazy smuggler and the giant Wookiee were!

  But we had no time for admiration.

  “Hold them here!” I shouted, making a run for it. As I passed, I scooped up a discarded blaster that had been dropped by a Pakiphantos. And I took off after Kolac Pru.

  I found him just as he was about to board the Pakiphantos ship. I crept up behind him, my weapon ready, but he spun around at the last minute.

  There we were, both of us with weapons pointing at the other at close range.

  Neither one of us could survive if either fired.

  “Now this is an interesting situation,” said Kolac, laughing.

  “I admit,” I said, “this is a sticky little problem we have here, but if you will just drop the thornsuckle plant, you can be on your way.”

  “I don’t think so. I think you are going to holster your blaster and be on yours.”

  “If you shoot me, we both die,” I said.

  “I know,” Kolac replied. “But I don’t think the infamous Hondo Ohnaka is going to sacrifice his life for a noble cause. After all, there’s no profit in it.”

  “Finally,” I said with sincere gratitude, “someone who has heard of me! I could hug you if I weren’t trying to shoot you!”

  But then I felt something poke me in the back.

  “Drop it,” someone said.

  And there behind me was Evil Mahjo.

  I had no choice. I lowered my blaster.

  Keeping her gun on me, she strode past to stand alongside Kolac Pru.

  “You took your time,” he said. “I thought I designed you faster than that.”

  “The other me proved difficult,” Evil Mahjo replied.

  “But you dealt with her?” he asked.

  “She’s dead,” said Evil Mahjo.

  “Dead?” I said. I was aghast. Although Mahjo had lied to me and tricked me, I genuinely liked her. Or maybe it was because she had lied to me and tricked me that I liked her. Either way, I felt a great sadness at her passing.

  “Get in the ship,” Evil Mahjo said to Kolac Pru. “I’ll cover you.”

  Well, the Kaminoan didn’t have to be told twice. He strode quickly onto the ship, taking big steps on long legs.

  And I was left facing Mahjo Reeloo’s killer, Mahjo Reeloo.

  “She was better than you, you know,” I said. “It mattered to her that what her creator did harmed so many people. She was looking for a way to atone, to make amends for her part in all of this, and now, I suppose she has done so.”

  I expected harsh words from Evil Mahjo, but instead her face held sadness.

  “She still has a lot to atone for,” she said. “And she owes you a great deal, too.” Her words surprised me, but still keeping the blaster trained in my direction, she backed onto the ship.

  As she held the gun on me, I noticed something about her wrist.

  “Wait,” I called, starting forward, but the boarding ramp door swung
shut. Then I had to jump back as the ship was taking off.

  I stood there and watched it go. It was hard to say what I was feeling.

  Then behind me, I heard the shouts and blaster fire of Han Solo and Chewbacca versus the gang of Pakiphantos.

  Well, they might have some mopping up to do, but they were big boys. One way or another, our adventure was at an end. Kolac Pru was gone. The thornsuckle was with him. As was a Mahjo Reeloo.

  I was alone again, and I still needed a way off that planet. A ship. And I knew where there was one.

  I made my way hurriedly back to the Millennium Falcon. There she was, waiting, just as we had left her.

  A quick wiggle-waggle as before, and I was up the boarding ramp and slipping into the cockpit.

  I powered up the engines.

  But I did not take off.

  Something stopped me.

  I sat there in the pilot’s seat, knowing that with the push of a few buttons, the greatest ship in the galaxy could be mine.

  And that was where Han Solo and Chewbacca found me. I guess they dealt with the Pakiphantos faster than I had anticipated. It’s these little details that will trip you up, every time.

  Solo spun me around in the chair, and I think he would have hit me, but just then a light on the wrist controller flared. Yes, Mahjo’s wrist controller. You see, I never gave it back to her.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “I think the defoliator bomb has just gone off,” I said sadly.

  “The bomb?” asked Solo.

  “Mahjo was still carrying it,” I explained. “But I had the controller.”

  And then I told him what had transpired. And what I had noticed when Evil Mahjo was backing onto the ship. What I had seen on her wrist—or rather, not seen. The wrist controller was gone.

  Do you see? It was Good Mahjo, my Mahjo, who went with Kolac Pru.

  “She pretended to be the other Mahjo,” I explained, “the new clone, and she left with Kolac.”

  “But why would she do that?” said Solo.

  “It was the only way to be sure,” I said. “To be there herself when the bomb destroyed the thornsuckle root.”

  “She sacrificed herself?” said Solo.

  “She has fulfilled the mission she set out to do,” I said. “It’s over now. She has atoned for whatever evil she thought she helped bring into the world. The thornsuckle plant is no more. And probably Kolac Pru along with it. And…”

  Beside him, Chewbacca let out a long, mournful moan.

  “I know, big guy,” said Solo. “I know.”

  We sat there in silence for a minute, remembering our companion Mahjo Reeloo. Even Solo looked uncharacteristically sad. But not for long. His eyes grew angry again, and he pointed that accusing finger at me.

  “You were trying to steal my ship! Again! Weren’t you?”

  I nodded. No point in denying it.

  “I thought I needed a ship. I thought that would give me a purpose in life again. But Mahjo showed me that what I needed was to be part of something that matters. And thank you to Chewbacca, for your Wookiee wisdom. No, I think this ship has a destiny to play in the galaxy, and maybe it is with who it needs to be with for now. But this old pirate has a renewed sense of purpose. Perhaps there are more adventures ahead for me. You know, I am looking for a new crew.”

  “Oh, no,” said Solo. “Not on your life.”

  “I wasn’t asking you,” I said. “I was talking to Chewbacca.”

  “Grrraggoorarr,” said the Wookiee.

  “What do you mean you’ll think about it?” snapped Solo.

  “Hu-rruuu, hu-rruuu, hu-ruuu,” laughed Chewbacca.

  “Yuck it up,” growled Solo. “And you,” he said, pointing at me. “You get off my ship right now. And if I ever see you again, it will be too soon.”

  “I know you don’t mean that,” I said, rising from the captain’s chair. “But I will be about my way. Just as soon as you give me my portion of the profits from this adventure.”

  “Your portion of the what?”

  “What Mahjo paid you for the initial flight? Certainly you don’t think anything that we did could have been accomplished without my help. I want only a modest fee, say thirty percent.”

  “Get out,” said Solo. His face was turning a very interesting shade of red.

  “Twenty percent?”

  “Out!”

  “Well, perhaps we can discuss this later.”

  “Get off my ship!” Solo yelled.

  “Yes, I will see myself out. Good-bye, Captain Solo. Good-bye, Chewbacca, my friend.”

  And with a farewell from the Wookiee and under the angry gaze of Han Solo, I walked off the Millennium Falcon—I wondered if for the last time. But it was not so big a galaxy, and Hondo was bigger. Perhaps our paths would cross again.

  And as for Mahjo. Who knows? She had been fortunate indeed to find Hondo. Perhaps luck was with her still. If the Pakiphantos ship was large enough, she might have been able to escape the blast of the defoliator bomb. Perhaps one day I would see her again, too. I thought I would like that.

  It had not been a profitable adventure, but it had been a valuable one.

  Well, there you have it,” said Hondo. The old pirate settled back in his chair. He gave Bazine Netal a big smile, looking more than a little pleased with himself.

  “There I have what?” she said.

  “There you have it,” he continued, “the story of the first time I ever saw the Millennium Falcon. Such a ship! And what a great time that was! I do often wonder, you know…”

  Bazine Netal raised an ink-tipped finger to her chin. Despite herself, she had been swept up in Hondo’s tale, even if it was delaying her from claiming her prize.

  “If Mahjo Reeloo survived the defoliator blast?” she said, finishing his sentence for him.

  “What? No,” said Hondo. He waved away the suggestion as if it were absurd. “No, no, I wonder—if I had listened to my first impulse and stolen the Falcon back then like I originally intended—just what my life would have been like.”

  “Shorter, probably,” said Bazine.

  “Ha, ha, ha,” laughed Hondo. And then he frowned. “Yes, I believe you are correct. There are only so many times one can upset a Wookiee and live to talk about it. In fact, for most people, there isn’t even one time.”

  “I was thinking more of Han Solo,” said Bazine. “He seemed pretty attached to that ship.”

  “And yet he lost it again, didn’t he? And then it lost him. But no, I wouldn’t be too concerned about Solo. He was a tooka cat under that gruff exterior. And don’t you worry about his harsh words to me there at the end of my story. He did not mean them. I’m sure that he liked me. At least, I’m pretty sure. Well, it may have taken him some time to come around to appreciating my charms.”

  At that moment, the RX-series droid turned DJ decided to spin a familiar track.

  “Ah,” said Hondo, “‘Mad About Me.’ An oldie but a goodie. One of my favorites. I find the sentiment agrees with me very much.”

  He began to hum along and wag a finger in the air, as if conducting an imaginary orchestra.

  Bazine wrinkled her nose. The too-upbeat music got on her nerves. Plus, the swell in the music caused the cantina’s other patrons to begin talking louder, so the ambient noise level was going up.

  “I think it’s overplayed,” she said.

  “When something works, go with it,” said Hondo. “And speaking of something that works, are you sure you wouldn’t like a Fuzzy Tauntaun?”

  Bazine leaned across the table to stare into the pirate’s goggled eyes.

  “Do I look like the kind of person who drinks Fuzzy Tauntauns?” she said.

  Hondo swallowed.

  “Well, to be honest, no,” he replied. “You look like you drink the blood of your enemies. But suit yourself. My throat is dry after my wonderful bout of storytelling, so I will get myself a drink even if you don’t want one.”

  He rose, but Bazine grab
bed his wrist as he moved to pass her.

  “We’re not done negotiating,” she said.

  “No, no, we are not,” Hondo agreed. “Far from it. But I have another story to tell you.”

  Bazine’s chin shot up at that.

  “Another story? What for?”

  Hondo gently eased her fingers from his wrist.

  “To further establish the provenance of this fine, fine vessel.”

  “I thought you just did that,” said Bazine.

  “Oh, I may have talked you up ten thousand more credits, but after my next tale, you will see that the ship is worth much, much more.”

  Bazine sighed.

  “You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?”

  “My dear, you can’t expect—”

  Bazine held up a palm, cutting him off.

  “How long is this one going to take?” she said.

  Hondo smiled.

  “Long enough that I need another drink,” he answered. He turned to the room at large.

  “Waiter, waiter!” Hondo called out loudly. “Bring me a Gamorrean Grog. And put it on my tab.”

  “But you never pay your tab,” objected the nearest server, a tall blue Togruta.

  “I’m glad we are agreed,” said Hondo. “Now, fetch me my drink.”

  He settled back at the table. Remarkably, the Togruta actually did appear a few moments later with a Gamorrean Grog on a tray.

  Hondo took a long sip, and then he set the drink on the table and adjusted his hat.

  “Now,” he said, “here is another tale of the Millennium Falcon. And this tale is very special, because this time, I actually got to fly her myself!”

  Frustration.

  Do you know the meaning of the word?

  The very definition?

  For a pirate, it is standing in a parking lot full of ships of every variety from all over the galaxy.

  And not being allowed to steal a single, solitary one!

  It is like being a kid in a candy shop, without any credits. A kid who doesn’t steal, that is. Because a pirate child would just take the candy.

  Don’t get me wrong. I dearly love Takodana. It is a beautiful place. But it is so hard for me to visit without helping myself to something beyond friendly conversation and a drink while I am there.