by Kathy Tyers
his cold X-wing would sit in a dark hangar bay, and Artoo in his quarters,
linked through the Flurry into the Battle Analysis Computer. Maybe next time,
he could rig Artoo to link him with the carrier's command deck and run things
from a fighter... except where could he install control and status boards?
"Calculations are in," he announced. "Prepare to jump."
The blue picket ships' lights turned green.
Luke clutched the arms of his seat. "Now."
Han Solo kept an eye on the Falcon's sensors as he swung the nimble
freighter aside. Too experienced to get caught in the battle group's jump
hyperwash, he couldn't resist watching until Luke's carrier--imagine the kid
commanding a carrier group - - winked out. Leia flinched.
Now he was back where he belonged, on board the Falcon. Alliance repair
teams had wasted no time getting his beloved freighter back into service after
Lando rattled her around inside the second Death Star ( --..b no hard feelings,
Lando. It was for a good cause). He belonged in this cockpit, with good old
Chewie in the copilot's seat.
But even that wasn't the same. Leia sat behind the huge Wookiee, wearing
a gray combat coverall belted around her waist, leaning forward as if she
thought she ought to be copilot instead.
Well. He'd give Leia everything he owned, the whole galaxy if he could
swing it, but she wouldn't bump Chewie out of that chair. Yeah, she'd handled
the Falcon just fine during a couple of emergencies. But even a smuggler drew
the line somewhere.
Threepio occupied the other back chair, his golden head swiveling from
side to side. "I am so thankful you reconsidered, Mistress Leia. Although my
expertise will be wasted more seriously than usual out here in the system's
far reaches, our safety is of paramount importance. May I suggest--"
Han rolled his eyes and said mock-menacingly, "Leia?"
She hit the off switch at the back of Threepio's neck. He froze in
position.
Han whooshed out a noisy sigh of relief. Chewbacca added a chuckling
growl and shook his black-tipped cinnamon fur. Han reached for his control
panel. "Seven minutes to close approach."
Leia unstrapped and pushed up to stand closer to the console, pressing
her warm leg against his. "Imperials can't be far. Where are the scanners?"
Han shot a hand forward and turned them on. The sixth planet filled the
scanner displays. Chewbacca barked several grunts and rrowps. "Dirt and ice,"
Han translated for Leia. "Bakura system's got only one gas giant and a whole
flock of accreted-comet types trailing off behind it." He paused. "If the
Falcon's warm at all, she'll melt herself right to the surface."
"Look," said Leia. "Settlement of some kind near the terminator."
"I see it." Han held his course toward the cluster of regular shapes.
"But there's no communication or defense satellites, and we're not picking up
any transmissions." Chewie howled agreement.
Quickly, the domes swung into view. Han pulled them in on high resolution
and spotted a double line of shattered walls between jagged new craters.
"What a mess," Leia said.
"Ten to one our mysterious aliens have already hit this place."
"Good." Leia flicked dust off Han's chair. Startled, he twisted around.
"That means they probably won't be back," she explained.
"Checked it off the list," Han agreed.
"And they're out for bigger game now. I only hope Luke's careful."
"He will be. Okay Chewie, this looks like a nice quiet neighborhood.
We're hidden better if we land... blend in with the rocks, you know. Let's get
low and kill speed. Only enough to fight gravity. We're going in cold."
He didn't tell her how hard that would be. His sensors registered under
0.2 G on this ice ball, and no atmosphere to heat up incoming craft, but
shedding temp was no simple job. Core heat was still up from the hyperspace
jump, and friction was no small factor even in the dead cold of outer-system
space, they had already hit billions of ions and atoms. Han touched a control
he rarely used, setting dorsal radiators on full. He wished he had chillers
for the landing struts, but if wishes were fishes, Calamarians would be giving
the orders at Alliance HQ.
Just beyond the terminator, he spotted a crater bottom long and broad
enough to hold the Falcon snugly. He shut down the radiators, brought her low,
and let her hover. Now, no braking rockets...
About to ease down, he spotted a dark shining pool spreading out on the
crater bottom below him.
Not water ice, then, but ammonia or some other smelly volatile that
melted at such a supercold temp that even hover jets puddled it.
Now what?
Chewie whuffled a suggestion.
"Yeah," he answered. "Synchronous orbit. Good idea."
"We're not going to land after all?" Leia relaxed into her high-backed
seat as the Falcon swooped over the ruins and gained altitude.
Chewbacca howled, pointing out a small problem.
"It works well enough," Han said.
"What works well enough?" Leia demanded.
Han frowned at Chewie. Thanks a lot, pal. "The Falcon's star tracker. For
maintaining orbits on autopilot. It's slaved into a circuit that doesn't
normally cover those things."
"Why?"
Han laughed shortly. "You don't make this many modifications on one
freighter without slicing a few circuits. The tracker works well enough - -
but--Chewie, make sure we don't drift off course. So long as we stay close, no
one'll spot us." Han jabbed a sensor. "Looks like Brother Luke's moving in on
the Imperials' side. I suppose you want to stick around and watch."
Leia frowned. "With this scanner board, it's impossible to tell who's on
which side. Anyway, I'm uncomfortable with the whole situation."
"Oh." Was that scanner-board comment another insult? "Oh," he added
cheerfully. Maybe they'd finally have a quiet hour. Their s-called vacation
after the big Ewok party had been worthless; Leia was bone tired. But during
the jump, with all hands busy and Threepio bustling everywhere, he'd quietly
had Chewie make a few modifications in the Falcon's main hold that weren't in
Cracken's Field Guide.
He only hoped Chewie had gotten it right. The big Wookiee was a master
mechanic, but his aesthetic sense wasn't, well, human.
Han Solo hadn't exactly joined this picnic for the war effort.
Leia groped behind Threepio's neck and switched him back on, then
followed Han aft. Once the Battle of Endor wound down, they'd talked for
hours. Beneath that smuggler's cynical mask, this man hid ideals like hers.
They'd simply been squashed harder. And she'd dreaded being alone ever since
Luke gave her the terrible news Darth Vader was her--
No.
Her mind dodged its own defenses and thrust again As she'd watched
Alderaan blasted from space aboard the Death Star, she'd thought she'd been
watching her family die. In truth, her father had stood--
No! She would never accept him as her father. Not even if Luke did.
She ducked to miss a dangling hose. If she had to find a hiding place and
pull her head in for a few hours
, the time had better count for something.
She'd already wasted too many days recuperating. She rubbed her right
shoulder. Not even synthflesh completely countered the itch of a healing
blaster burn. As she'd told Han, it wasn't bad... just hard to ignore.
He stopped near the entry ramp. She leaned against a bulkhead and stared
up at him. "What's left to fix?" The Falcon was Han's first love. The sooner
she accepted that, the less often he'd get his back up. Besides, it was
foolish to feel jealous of a spaceship.
Han slid his hands off his hips and let them hang along his black pants'
side stripes. "Things will probably stay quiet for a few hours. Chewie's on
watch, too."
Abruptly Leia realized that was no combat glimmer in his eyes. "I thought
something needed repairing." She tossed down the challenge. "Come on, isn't
there some new modification that needs field testing?"
"Yeah. Back here, in the big cargo bay." He strode along the curving
corridor, slapped the locking panel, and stepped down into the Falcon's aft
hold. He palmed open a bulkhead hatch into the closed starboard compartment.
"Shield generators, back here."
The cargo bay smelled stuffyou. She stepped down behind Han. "What are
you smuggling this time?"
"Something I picked up on Endor."
"We picked up on Endor," she corrected him. Crates piled and braced with
more crates walled off the back of the compartment. Han slid a crate aside and
uncovered a locker she thought might be a refrigeration unit. He reached in,
groped, and pulled out a glass bottle.
Straight-faced, she took it. Primitive glass sealed with a plug of tree
bark, it looked less than sanitary. "What is it?"
"A present from that Ewok medicine man. You remember. The one who made us
honorary members of the tribe?"
"Yes." Leia lounged against the stack of cargo crates and handed back the
bottle. "You didn't answer my question."
Han yanked on the plug. "Berry... wine of some... sort," he grunted. The
plug popped free. "Goldenrod about split a resistor translating, but the gist
of what the fuzzy guy said was, "To ignite the heart that's beginning to warm.
"'"
So that's what he was up to. "Hey, we're at war."
"We'll always be at war. When are you going to live?"
Leia felt her cheeks heat. She'd rather talk, argue, even fight with Han
than hide out and sip... berry wine?... with a battle going on. As Bail Organa
would've pointed out, this man wasn't even appropriate company for someone of
her upbringing. He wanted to solve all his problems with a blaster. She was a
princess by adoption, if not by birth.
Again the black-masked shadow fell across her thoughts Vader. She had
hated him so righteously.
Cloudy purple wine sloshed into stoneware. Probably not a palace-quality
vintage. "Let's not..." she began, then she trailed off. She'd already decided
she couldn't do Luke any good hanging around the subspace radio.
"Hey." Han handed her one cup. "What are you thinking? What are you
afraid of?"
"Too much." She touched the rim of her cup to his. The pottery clinked
softly.
"You? Afraid?"
Leia had to smile. It didn't make sense to be anything but brave and
headlong. She sipped, then sniffed her cup and wrinkled her nose. "It's too
sweet."
"I don't think they make anything else." Han set his cup on a pallet.
"Look over here." He took her hand and tugg ed her around the freestanding
divider of crates. She set her cup beside his. "I--" He stopped.
Leia looked down into a nest of self-inflating pillows.
"Chewie--" Han growled. He dropped her hand. "I guess that's a little
blatant. I never should've trusted a Wookiee."
Leia laughed. "Chewie set this up?"
"Wait till I tell that big wet-nosed furball--"
Still laughing, she braced herself against a bulkhead and shoved him over
backward. He caught her hand and went down flailing.
CHAPTER 4
Chewbacca hoped he'd gotten it right. Han's aesthetic sense wasn't, well,
civilized. But his intentions were sterling. Leia ought to be able to figure
that out. She seemed like a genteel female.
Threepio prattled behind him. Chewbacca fiddled with communications gear,
checking occasionally on Luke's battle. He'd lost track of which blip in all
that mayhem was the Flurry.
"And this is a rather precarious hiding place," Threepio added. "Planet
Six is rightly denied the dignity of a proper name. Why, it's little more than
a large boulder of ice. Not even a settlement, just the remains of a military
outpost." Abruptly he paused. "What was that, Chewbacca? Tune back a few
kilobits."
Chewie shrugged and suggested that Threepio butt out.
"I shall not "butt out,"' you ill-mannered fleabag," the droid squeaked.
"The nerve of some creatures, discounting my expertise. I distinctly heard
something back there."
Out here in the fringes of the system? Chewie considered tearing off a
metal arm. It would serve Threepio right. But he'd just have to resolder all
those connections again.
"I detected something that was not a naturally occurring phenomenon. Tune
back a few kilobits."
Well, it was possible. Pressing his headset to one ear, Chewie hit the
low-band scanner and had it repeat its sweep of near space. Something buzzed
briefly, a signal too weak to key scanner-pause. Chewie spun a control to
amplify. Several seconds of fine tuning brought up a low electronic hum.
Threepio cocked his golden head and posed authoritatively. "That's very
strange, Chewbacca. It sounds like some kind of command code for communicating
between droids. But what would active droids be doing in this vicinity?
Perhaps it is a mechanical survivor from that abandoned Imperial outpost below
or machinery still in operation. I suggest that you turn on the comlink and
alert General Solo or Princess Leia."
Han had hinted that he'd better not be disturbed for anything short of
catastrophic pressure loss. Chewie told Threepio as much.
"Well, I shall not relax until I have ascertained that signal's origin.
We have, after all, entered a war zone. We could be in considerable danger.
Wait--" Threepio leaned to the other side. "This is no code used in any
Alliance or Imperial system."
The invaders? Without hesitating, Chewie swatted the comlink.
It beeped from Han's shirt pocket. "General Soloffwas bleated Threepio's
singsong voice. "General Soloffwas
Leia wriggled in Han's arms. "I knew it," he muttered. Just when Leia'd
been on the verge of relaxing. He pulled out the comlink. "What?" he sneered.
"Sir, I am picking up a transmission from near space. A droid control
unit of some kind seems to be in operation very close by. I am not certain,
but its source appears to be coming closer."
"Uh, oh," Leia said softly against his shoulder. She pushed up to her
feet.
"Okay, Chewie, we'll be right there." Han made sure it sounded more like
a threat than a promise.
Looking amused, Leia poured her syrupy wine back into the bottle an
d
recorked it. Before sprinting up the corridor, she spread her hands and
mournfully quoted Han's ^ws back to him "It's not my fault!"
Han had just swung into the cockpit when an electronic shriek rang out
from the main console. "What's that?" Leia asked.
Great. Just great. Chewie was already powering up. "Not good, sweetheart,
" Han clipped. "We just got probed."
"By what?" Leia dropped into the seat behind him.
"Well?" Han tossed the question over his shoulder to Threepio.
"Sir," began Threepio, "I have not yet ascertained--"
"Okay," Leia interrupted, "shut up. Thereffwas She pointed dead center on
the viewscreen. "Look! What are they?"
From behind the dead icy bulk of Planet 6, eight or nine small shapes
appeared in midstarfield, headed directly for the Falcon.
"I'm not sticking around to find out," Han growled. "Chewie, charge the
main guns."
Chewbacca barked agreement full voice.
"We know the aliens take prisoners," Leia muttered. "I don't want to open
negotiations from that position."
"You won't. C'mon, Chewie. You and me for the quad guns. We'll see what
they're made of. Leia, take us someplace. Suddenly I don't trust Planet Six."
Leia slid into the pilot's seat. Hadn't he just vowed that she'd never
take the Falcon away from him and Chewie?
Yeah. But this was different. As he rounded the bend, he heard Threepio's
voice fade out "The Millennium Falcon is better configured for running away
than for engaging enemy fighters...."
Han climbed up the turret and clambered into his seat, then squeezed off
a ranging burst. "They're closing fast," he told Leia via the pickup mike on
his headset. "Is Goldenrod getting any data? What are they?"
Threepio's answer began, "Well, General Solo--" By then, Leia'd answered,
"Deep-space droids. That's all he knows."
The droids swooped into close range. Three soared over the freighter's
asymmetrical dish, firing energy bursts toward its main engine. "Analyze those
beams, Goldenrod," Han shouted as he fired. "Are they laser cannons or what?"
Chewbacca snarled over his headphones. "Yeah," Han answered, "for ships
of that size!"
"What?" Leia cried. "What, for ships of that--"
"Strong shields." Han poured firepower into a single droid, holding it