Star Wars - Han Solo's Revenge

by Han Solo's Revenge (by Brian Daley)

  Spray drew himself up to his full height. "Don't make the mistake so many others have; I'm more capable than I ap-pear. With your superior eyesight neutralized, you would almost certainly have grown dizzy from the fumes before I; I can, after all, hold my breath for protracted periods. But immediately after our struggle, Gallandro here, who'd been running a check on you, informed me of your true identity. I decided I'd found my solution."

  Han's brows knit. "Solution?"

  Spray turned to Chewbacca. "Remember our board game, and the Eight Ilthmar Gambit, a lone combatant sent in to draw out an opponent? Captain Solo, you were that playing piece, my solution. The slavers knew you were no security operative and that you couldn't appeal to the legal authori-ties. You compelled them to acts that made them vulnerable, as you can see, to me. " That made Han remember something else. He looked to Fiona. "What about you?"

  Spray answered for her. "Oh, she's precisely what she said she is: an ambitious, aggressive, loyal employee. The house-cleaning required by this whole business will leave some prime job slots in my organization; I plan to see Fiona amply re-warded. My deputy territorial manager's position will be va-cant quite soon, I should think."

  "A plush job with the Authority," Han spat, "worst gang of plunderers who ever infested space." "Not everyone can outfly them or rob them blind, Han," Fiona said. "But somebody inside might bring change, as Spray's been trying to do: If someone had the right position, she might do a great deal of good. "

  "You see?" Spray's question was filled with approval.

  "Our attitudes are complementary. For all your daring and. ability, Captain, you'll never do appreciable damage to an organization of the Authority's size and wealth. I submit to' you that beings like Fiona and myself, working within it,-;... may accomplish what blasters cannot. How can you fault her for that? "

  To avoid answering, Han looked to Gallandro. "What was the challenge all about?"

  The gunman's hand moved in an airy dismissal. "The Glayyd clan constituted a particular problem; their records are connected to a destruct switch manned by loyal clan members. We couldn't risk going in and taking the evidence only to have it destroyed in the process.

  "The elder Mor Glayyd mistrusted the slavers and they suspected him of planning to extort more money from them. They aren't the type for faith in human nature, you see. The slavers made secret overtures to the Reesbon clan and when the elder Mor Glayyd learned of it, he began making round-about contact with Spray, fearing his clan was going to be betrayed. He was poisoned very soon thereafter, of course, partly at Zlarb's suggestion, as it seems.

  "I preceded you all here; after the Falcon made her emer-gency landing, Odumin - sorry, sir, Spray-managed to con-tact me: I saw an opportunity to use the peculiar structure of their Code to put the Glayyds in your debt, Solo. It wasn't very difficult to make myself available to the Reesbons, and as far as they're concerned, they're the ones who originated the idea of having me challenge the new Mor Glayyd to a duel. "

  "A marvelous inspiration," applauded Spray. "And it was t also at your suggestion that the Reesbons contrived to key open the lifeboat transceiver?"

  Gallandro shrugged modestly, twisting his mustache. Han wanted to kick himself. And everyone else present. "Wait a minute, Spray," he objected. "How'd you contact him? You were stuck out in the mountains."

  Spray was suddenly chagrined. "Er, yes. There were commo techs standing by for my signal, but I had to have uninterrupted use of the Falcon's facilities in case Gallandro wasn't immediately available. "

  He turned to the Wookiee. "And that involves an apology I owe you. To keep you away from the ship for the requisite time I frightened those grazers into stampeding with a flare gun, meaning only to isolate you on the ridge for a time. I had no idea there'd be so many of them, or that you'd be endangered. I'm truly sorry. ".

  Chewbacca pretended not to hear him, and Spray didn't press the issue.

  "So you're just another hired gun," Han said to Gallan-dro. "Is that right? An errand boy on the Authority's chain?" The gunman was amused. "You've got a lot of time to put

  in before you're ready to pass judgment on me, Solo, whereas I've been in your place already. I've done it all, but I got tired of waiting to die in some senseless manner. So I've given up sleeping with one eye open, and in return I've got a future. Don't be surprised if you feel this way yourself, somewhere down the line. "

  Never, Han thought, but he found Gallandro to be more of a puzzle than ever.

  "With Magg and the others in the slaver ship, and the evidence that's come to light, I should think our case will be incontestable," Spray said with satisfaction.

  "Then you won't be needing us?" Han said hopefully. "Not quite true," the territorial manager admitted: "I'm afraid I can't simply let you go, though I'll do what I can to elicit leniency for you." Han made a skeptical face. "From an Authority Court?" Spray looked pained, squinting at Han, then away. Seeing the empty safety cage, he said, "Gallandro, did you bring no men? Who's going to fly the Millennium Falcon back to port? "They will," Gallandro announced, indicating Han and Chewbacca. "I'll go with them, to make sure they behave."

  Spray was shaking his head vigorously. "This is sheer recklessness. Needless risk-taking! I know you didn't enjoy reneging on your challenge, but that was in line with your employment. There's no need to be provocative!"

  "I will bring them," Gallandro repeated coolly. "Don't forget that I work for you under certain agreed-upon condi-tions. "

  "Yes," Spray lisped softly to himself, stroking his whis-kers. He turned to Han. "This is Gallandro's affair; I cannot interfere. I advise you most emphatically against any rash acts, Captain Solo." He extended his paw, offering a friendship-grip. "Good luck to you."

  Han ignored the extended hand, staring directly at Fiolla, who wouldn't meet his gaze. Spray looked to Chewbacca, but the Wookiee conspicuously clamped both hands on the sling of his bowcaster and gazed off into empty air. The territorial manager sadly withdrew his hand. "Should you both succeed in avoiding imprisonment, I would advise you to leave the Authority as quickly as you can and never, never return. Fiolla, we'd better be going. Oh, and Gallan-dro, please make sure you obtain Zlarb's data plaque from Captain Solo."

  He started off at a slow amble, tail dragging the rocky ground. Fiolla fell in at his side without a backward glance. Gallandro extended his hand to Chewbacca. "I'm afraid I can't have both of you armed, my tall friend. I'll take the bowcaster. "

  Chewbacca growled, showing long fangs, and might have tried for a shootout right then and there. But there was no doubt that the gunman could kill the Wookiee where he stood and maybe get Han as well. At least, Gallandro seemed con-fident he could.

  "Pass it to him, Chewie," Han ordered. The Wookiee looked at him, snarled again at Gallandro, and reluctantly handed his weapon over stock-first. Gallandro was careful to stay out of reach of those shaggy arms. With a gesture to the ramp, he invited them aboard.

  "It's nearly that time, Captain Solo," said the gunman. Just about, Han agreed to himself, and preceded Gallan-dro up the ramp.

  "Now," said Gallandro contentedly when they were aboard, "if your copilot will be good enough to prepare the ship, you and I will get that data plaque. " He caught Chew-bacca's eye. "Warm up your engines only, and don't do any-thing rash, my friend; your partner's life hinges on it. " The Wookiee turned to go and Han led the way toward his quarters. The cramped cubicle was in the same disarray, as when he had last seen it, with clothes and equipment strewn on the sleeping pallet and the tiny desk and chair. The pallet's free-fall netting had somehow come' unstrapped from its re-tainers and hung from the bulkhead. A used mealpack tray sat atop the desk reader.

  Han ignored the clutter and stepped to his minuscule closet as Gallandro put the bowcaster aside. With the gunman watching him carefully, Han reached his right hand into the inner pocket of his thermosuit, feeling for Zlarb's security case. But as he groped for it he found that the case's clip was engaged, hooked through
the top edge of the pocket.

  That Wookiee's a big, ugly genius! Han thought, instantly covering the disarm button with his forefinger and drawing the case out, separating it from its clip. He offered it to the gunman.

  Gallandro put out his own right hand willingly. It had oc-curred to him that Ian might take advantage of the brief distraction and go for his blaster while Gallandro's right hand was on the case. He was more than happy to let Han try it if he wanted to. But while both men's right hands were still on the security case, Han simply moved his finger off the safety.

  The two cried out as a surge of neuro - paralysis washed up their arms like an absolute-zero lightning bolt. The security case clattered to the deck as they both clutched numb, useless arms to their sides. Gallandro gritted his teeth and glared at Han, who slowly and cautiously flicked open the tie-down of his holster. Gal-landro's own left hand started for his holstered weapon but he realized what an awkward move it was and that Han hadn't gone for his blaster yet. Han tugged at his gunbelt until his blaster sat, butt-forward, on his left hip. Gallandro, smile gone, did the same with his own tooled holster. Their hands were close to their weapons now.

  "Had to change the odds a bit," Han grinned amiably. "Hope you don't mind. Whenever you're ready, Gallandro. The stage is yours."

  The gunfighter's upper lip now held beads of sweat among the strands of his mustache. His hand began to tense, fingers preparing for the unfamiliar task. Han almost went for his gun then, but curbed himself sharply. Gallandro would have to be the one to decide.

  The gunman's left hand drooped loosely, as he abandoned the effort. Chewbacca, unable to ignore the outcries he'd heard, appeared at the hatch. Han snatched the blaster from Gallandro's tooled holster and pressed it into his first mate's midsection as he dodged past him. "Hold onto him! I'm getting us out of here if I can!"

  He was reading instrumentation from the moment he en-tered the cockpit at a full run. He stopped himself with the heel of his left hand against the console and vaulted into his seat. The engines were hot but, as -per Gallandro's orders, guns, shields, and everything else but commo were cold. The neuro - charge hadn't been crippling; the feeling in his right arm was already coming back. For all the good it'll do me, he frowned to himself. He was shocked at how little time had passed since he'd entered the ship; Spray and Fiolla had only now finished the long walk back to the cage.

  He smashed his fist against the console. "Look at this! If I had firepower I'd have two perfect hostages under the guns. Or if I had tractors, I could haul 'em back here."

  "There're other ways to handle cargo besides tractors," said a high-pitched vocoder. "Isn't that right, Bollux?" "Blue Max is quite correct, sir," drawled the labor 'droid from the navigator's seat, from which he'd been keeping a photoreceptor on things, his plastron open. "As a general labor 'droid, I might point out-"

  Han cut him off with a bloodcurdling war whoop and screamed back over his shoulder, hoping his copilot would hear, "Chewie! Hold onto your pelt; we're taking the long shot! "

  He brought up full engine power. Giving the Millennium Falcon entirely too much acceleration, he tore off from a dead standstill to scream along under the belly of the de-stroyer, retracting landing gear as he went. Even with full braking thrusters he barely made a tight bank, throwing him-self against the console as Bollux floundered for a handhold: Lining up his shot, he applied more power.

  The safety cage, suspended halfway up to the access lock on its utility tractor, was before him with unbelievable speed. With more instinct than skill, Han made microscopic, split-second corrections in his course and hit braking thrusters again. The starboard bow mandible slipped through the cage's sling-arm.

  I Han accelerated again, carefully but extremely quickly, tearing the cage out of the utility tractor's grasp. "Go ahead, go ahead," he taunted the mountainous destroyer, whose weapons still tracked him. "Shoot me; you'll blow your ter-ritorial manager to particles!"

  But no fire came. The Falcon shrieked out from under the Espo warship's belly; everything had happened with such suddenness that Han had snagged the cage before fire-control officers could decide what to do. Now they were powerless to intervene without endangering their superior. But the de-stroyer rose majestically and fell in behind the freighter in close pursuit. Han was beside himself; laughing, howling, stomping his boots on the deck, but still piloting with utmost care; if any-thing happened to Spray and Rolla now, the warship would surely eradicate the Falcon. He was relieved to find that the cage's sling-arm appeared to be firmly seated across the bow mandible. Chewbacca appeared, pushing a ruffled Gallandro along before him. The Wookiee thrust the gunman into the commo officer's seat, then took his own. Gallandro was smoothing his mustache and straightening his clothes. "Solo, was it necessary to have this behemoth body-press me to the safety cushioning?" Then he noticed what had happened. Grudg-ing admiration crept into his voice. "You seem to have gained the advantage,. Solo. Congratulations, , but please control yourself; the territorial manager is an extremely reasonable fellow and I'm sure he'll agree to any sane terms. I don't suppose that your unconditional release would be too much to ask. Oh, and perhaps afterward we can try that draw, for curiosity's sake: You may drain my pistol's charge first if you like; I'd just like to know what would've happened. "

  Han spared him a quick, disdainful look from the touchy business of guiding the Falcon smoothly and levelly through the hard, rocky peaks of Ammuud. "You pay to see the cards Gallandro; you folded."

  The gunfighter nodded politely. "Of course; what could I have been thinking of? There will be other occasions, Cap-' tain. These circumstances were unique. "

  They both knew that was true; Han swallowed his next taunt. "If your arm's coming around, you can warm up the commo board and contact the commander of that gunboat back there. Tell him I want time and room to finish repairs on the Falcon and a little more on the side for a head start. No stunts now, or they'll be picking Spray up with blotters."

  "Arrangements will be satisfactory, " Gallandro assured F him calmly, "with adequate safeguards for both sides." He set to work at the commo board.

  Han cut his speed back, satisfied that there would be no fire from the Espos. He knuckled his copilot's arm. "That was a cute move. What made you rig up the security case's clip? "

  The Wookiee answered with a string of the honks and grunts of his own language. Han turned his face back front, so his expression wouldn't show. It was highly unlikely that Gallandro understood any Wookiee, and he wouldn't know, unless he saw the pilot's face, how Chewbacca's reply had bewildered him.

  Because Chewbacca hadn't connected the security case's clip. And that left only one other person who had known where the case was. Han half-stood, half-leaned forward to look down through the canopy at the gently swaying safety cage. Spray was huddled miserably in the lowest corner of the dangling cage, webbed fingers clutched at the guardrail and its meshwork. He was making a courageous effort, it seemed, not to become airsick as he pondered the sudden reversals of fate. Han figured that even with this turnabout, it had been a good day for the territorial manager; he resolved to trade grips with Spray before they again parted company.

  Fiolla, unlike her superior, was braced more or less up-right, clinging to the sling-arm and staring up at the cockpit. When she saw Han gazing down, a slow and secret smile crossed her face. Knowing how well she could read the slightest kinetic movement, he mouthed. You are one very, very sharp future Senior Board Member. He saw a laugh escape her then and she made a small, mocking bow of the head. He pulled back down into his seat. Gallandro had raised the destroyer and was remonstrating with her skipper.

  "I might just have to hang onto one of my hostages a little longer," Han interrupted. "To make sure you keep your end of the deal. " Gallandro swiveled his chair around in surprise. "And don't get yourself in a lather, Gallandro; you'll get her back if your word's good." He went back to flying, checking sensors for a suitable landing spot. One more thought occurred to him. "By
the way, Gallandro, find out how much cash the pur-suer has in his vault." He snickered at Chewbacca's ques-tioning bark. "What d'you mean, `what for?' Somebody owes you and me ten thousand for services rendered: Or did you forget? "

  Gallandro, teeth clenched, went back to his argument with the Espo captain. Chewbacca's happy guffaws rang as the Wookiee pounded his armrest, the vibrations traveling through the deck. Han leaned forward again and blew Fiolla a heartfelt kiss.

  The End