Star Wars Journal - Hero for Hire by Han Solo

by Donna Tauscher

  And what’s the cargo? Two humans and two droids. And no Imperial entanglements. Simple, huh? Shoulda known right then that they had some kind of a bounty on them. Worse, it turns out.

  You’d have thought when the Imperial goons showed up looking for them in the cantina I would have been a little more alert. I could have told them right then, “Hey, boys, this is more trouble than I need right now.” But I had the 17,000 dangling in front of me like some hypnotic mind tease, so I let my guard down.

  It’s weird how you know stuff about people and you can’t even admit it to yourself at the time. Sure it was the money, but I gotta admit that as much as the kid irritated me, he also got under my skin in a funny way. I wanted to teach him a thing or two. He was too naïve. He had a smart mouth. He was still wet behind the ears, but talking about how 17,000 was too much for the trip. How he could buy his own ship for that. When I asked who was going to fly the thing, he got all indignant, like he was some super ace pilot.

  I see kids like him all the time. A lot of hot air and chest thumping and nothing to back it up. They don’t last long. I just wanted to see if this kid was any different.

  Talk about different—the old man, he was like some walking legend or something with his cape and lightsaber. He had a strange look in his eye. But he was all business, a straight shooter in that department. It was an easy transaction. Still, there was something weird… an intensity that you don’t see much around Mos Eisley.

  Most people around the spaceport act like they don’t care about anything, and most of them don’t. Unless they take a dislike to you. Then you know it.

  These two stood out. They interested me. And not necessarily in a good way.

  And my ship interested them. It should’ve. The Millennium Falcon. I told you a little about her. She’s a beauty. Okay, a little rough on the eyes, but nobody’s got her spirit. She’s a modified Corellian stock light freighter. Boy, is she modified. Chewie and I put nothing but work into her. And even though the Jedi duo had never heard of her, most people in Mos Eisley had. She had a reputation all over the galaxy. It’s the ship that made the Kessel run in less than twelve parsecs!

  She’s a ship to get excited over, Sai’da; one in a million.

  DATA PAD ENTRY 4

  Han: If I had any doubts about taking off for the Alderaan system in the Falcon with my strange new cargo, it was quickly dispelled. Greedo showed up at my table at the cantina as soon as Ben and Luke left.

  Are you following this, historian? Ben and Luke are the old man and the kid. Wanna keep you straight. And Greedo is this mindless, Rodian lug who works for Jabba. Killer for hire. Got it? Okay.

  Greedo is all puffed up like one of those poisonous Eberon spiders about to capture his prey. He says that Jabba has a hefty bounty on me all because of this spice deal. I try to explain that I’m good for the money. Greedo is picturing his pockets lined with Jabba’s reward, though, and I can see right away my minutes are numbered.

  It’s not that I like eliminating unsavory characters in my free time, you know, but I’m not gonna let myself be had either. I chatted with him in a real friendly way. He wasn’t as smart as he was greedy. I pulled a blaster out from under the table real easy and Greedo was no more.

  That’s the trouble with Jabba’s flunkies and with most of the cretins who work for the crimelords. They can’t use their heads. Or whatever part of their anatomy their pea brains are located in. Gives me one up on ’em.

  I figured that wasn’t the end of Jabba’s little harassment scheme. Chewie and I hightailed it back to Docking Bay 94, the Falcon’s humble home. We were prepared for some follow-up action, but not for the arrival of the king of ooze himself, Jabba. That’s how important I was to Jabba’s self-esteem. Trust me. It was about more than money. He didn’t want anybody thinking I’d pulled one over on him by not paying for the spice foul-up.

  Jabba was in the docking bay with every imaginable kind of alien scum in tow. He was calling my name. I answered from behind and startled the whole motley bunch. I figured if Jabba was with them he wasn’t looking for murder right then. His henchmen tend to that dirty work these days.

  I showed Jabba some real attitude. It’s the only thing that gets his attention. You want to show no fear in front of that slavering hulk. You’ve seen him, right? You never get used to how disgusting a creature he is. Shocks me every time. Not that he would know it. Sometimes survival is 50 percent show, putting up a good front.

  He’s acting like he’s distressed about Greedo’s demise. That he thought the two of us were friends. He’s got some pretty good attitude, too. We both knew he was talking fantasy land. I told him I would pay him back, but I needed time. He agreed for an additional 20 percent. Of course, he said if I didn’t come through this time there would be a price on my head so large that I wouldn’t be able to go near a civilized system for the rest of my life. Now that I believed. I assured him it would be my pleasure to pay him back.

  In my mind I was picturing the bounty hunter, Boba Fett, tracking me down. You don’t even want to know about Boba. You’ve led a sheltered life, Sai’da, even in this sicko palace, if you haven’t met Boba Fett. Just hearing about Boba would fracture your peace of mind. I don’t even want to think about him.

  So, as you can imagine, Chewie and I were a bit anxious to take on our weird little crew and make it to Alderaan pronto.

  DATA PAD ENTRY 5

  Han: The Falcon was almost ready and I was dreaming of retiring for a while to someplace Jabba the Hutt hadn’t heard about. I know a few planets in the outer system that are so small and out of the way that you could almost have one to yourself. I was thinking a little downtime on one of these would suit me just fine. Right. Fat chance.

  So, I was tinkering on the Falcon and indulging my little fantasy, when the old man and the kid arrived with the droids in tow. With much more than them in tow, actually.

  It’s a good thing I can shift gears in a hurry.

  Chewbacca: Mphwramph.

  Han: What’s going on, buddy? You still think you should have seen it coming? Should have checked it out when you let our little band of fugitives in? Stop blaming yourself for missing the spy who was tailing them.

  Sai’da, you might as well know now how sensitive this big old Wookiee can be.

  One thing’s for sure, though, somebody didn’t have a problem making some coin from the Empire. The Imperials knew exactly when the Rebel party arrived. The kid barely had time to insult the Falcon. “A piece of junk,” I think he called it. I hate ignorance. I mean, she’ll make point five past lightspeed!

  But there’s no point getting riled up in retrospect.

  Everybody got on board pronto and Chewbacca was readying the engines while I made a final inspection on the outside. Suddenly, the door flew open and Imperial stormtroopers entered with blasters firing. I managed to down a few of the royal scum so I could make my way into the Falcon. Thanks to Chewie here my new traveling pals and I were in the airspace over Mos Eisley in record time.

  Have you ever seen Imperial stormtroopers?

  Sai’da: I have heard of them only. Are they of interest?

  Han: Oh, yeah. Weird guys, covered in shiny white armor with helmets. You never see their faces. They all look exactly alike. Act exactly alike. I guess that’s the point. The Empire doesn’t even want them to look human. I mean, they’re ready at any moment to give their lives for the Empire. They’re like upright insects coming at you, swarms of them. Droids look more real to me than stormtroopers.

  Anyway, once we were in space, things really got interesting. It wasn’t enough that the Imperial stormtroopers followed my cargo to the docking bay, but they came after us in Imperial cruisers. Okay, I’m not slow. I was getting the idea about just how hot our passengers were. You’d think they might have mentioned that the Imperial forces were after them.

  Three cruisers were coming up fast on us. The old man stayed calm. But the kid—no surprise—was being a giant pain. He’s yelling, “
Why don’t you outrun them? I thought you said this thing was fast.” Like jumping into hyperspace doesn’t take a few calculations! As I told the kid, “It ain’t like dusting crops, boy.”

  We outmaneuvered those cruisers and then, bam, made the jump. In a flash I had us free and clear. The kid would have still been down on the Mos Eisley space station looking to buy a ship and talking about how tough he was if I hadn’t been around.

  You know, I kind of like talking about this. I was afraid my brain was never going to defrost and my past would just be some hazy story that happened to someone else. Not that I wouldn’t mind forgetting some of my past. I think I had too much time in carbonite. Because things are looking different to me now than they used to.

  Sai’da: How so? I’m curious about the carbonite experience. I’m wondering what kind of altered state it might have produced in you, and if it’s something like one of the B’omarr meditations. Do you want to discuss your time in carbonite now?

  Han: Not right now. Later, maybe, if you don’t get too mystical on me. Right now I’d just like to rest a minute.

  Listen, Sai’da, do you think you could at least get a message to Leia? She might feel a little better knowing I’m alive and with Chewbacca.

  Sai’da: I suppose I could devise a way to get a message to her. Perhaps when I leave the cell, somehow, I could… I’m not sure. I detect that you and the princess are more than comrades. Correct?

  Han: I guess so. I hope so. It’s been a year since I’ve really seen her. But when I came out of hibernation and realized someone had freed me but I didn’t know who, I asked, “Who are you?” And she said, “Someone who loves you.”

  Chewbacca: Rrrphmmmaff.

  Han: Yeah, yeah, Chewie. Take it easy.

  But it was good to hear those words. We’ve had a pretty rocky time of it, me and Leia. She’s as difficult as I am, if you can believe it. And now I wonder if I’ll ever see her again.

  Sai’da: One can never tell what will happen in the future. For now, Mr. Solo, I will try to send the princess a short message. A hello from two prisoners. Nothing more.

  Han: Thank you.

  DATA PAD ENTRY 6

  Han: Well, I was pretty happy there for a while, having escaped Mos Eisley and the Imperial ships. I was advancing on Alderaan and the answer to my cash flow problem, and the Falcon was unscathed after another close call.

  You know, I didn’t pay much attention to the droids on the trip. That was before I under stood the dynamite that Artoo-Detoo was storing in his loyal little droid innards. Those were the good old days before I’d ever heard the name, the Death Star. And to think I called the kid naïve. Right. Well, looking back I was pretty naïve myself.

  The droids were a trip in themselves. Artoo was easy to take. Kind of a funny little guy somehow. He pretty much kept to himself. But his buddy, Threepio, he was something else. He’s an arrogant one, considering he’s a walking metallic device! Oh, he’s got his circuits stuffed with information, all right.

  You’d like him ’cause he’d be happy to talk to you for as long as you could stand it. Speaks all kinds of languages. He can even tell you the customs of species from all over the galaxy. Unfortunately, he won’t shut up sometimes. He babbles on and on until you wish you knew where the deactivation button was for his vocabulator. Seriously. He can really get on your nerves.

  Speaking of getting on your nerves…

  There we were, heading for Alderaan, safe and sound, and suddenly, I was feeling a little underappreciated. Don’t laugh. I guess I feel that way a lot. No one had said, “Hey, Han, thanks for being as good as your word,” or anything. Sure I was getting paid, but that’s not the point. I’d just pulled off a pretty slick escape and they were acting like it was chump change.

  I don’t know. Maybe the point is just that I’m making excuses for how irritating I found the old man and the kid. There we are, cooped up together, and you’d think they might have something interesting to say.

  No. The old man was too busy training the kid, Luke, in how to get in touch with the Force. You see, Ben had given the kid a lightsaber, just like the one he’d whacked those creeps with in the cantina. An old-fashioned tube of light is all it is. Ben was teaching him how to ward off blasts from the seeker droid floating in front of him. He could have just given him a blaster and told him to eliminate it! It would have been a lot easier.

  But no, he’s saying stuff like, “a Jedi can feel the Force flowing through him.” And Luke is dead earnest trying to feel this Force. It was more than this man could take. I told them I’d been around the galaxy more than either of them and even though I’d seen a lot of strange stuff, I’d never seen any one all-powerful Force controlling everything. I said it was all hokey religion, that there was no mystical energy controlling my destiny.

  They just ignored me.

  But to tell you the truth, what I said wasn’t exactly what I believe. Let me gather my thoughts a minute, okay? All this talking is pretty exhausting. That hibernation was no vacation.

  Maybe this is it: I know about knowing what you don’t know. Oh, great, that’s as clear as a meteor shower. Let me try again. I’ve got this reputation for being lucky, you know? Blasters have missed me by milliseconds. I’ve left the wrong place at exactly the right time more than once in my life. It’s like if my life is threatened, I know in the moment how to save myself. I guess you could call it intuition. I can get out of scrapes by the narrowest of margins.

  Chewbacca: Rowwrrk!

  Han: Ahhh, Chewie, this little scrape ain’t over yet either. Besides, sometimes you know a situation is going to be bad, real bad, and you can’t stay out of it because other people are involved. Life’s gettin’ real complicated, ain’t it, buddy?

  So, anyway, I told Ben how there wasn’t a mystical Force at work in the universe. I was so sure that when things turned out right, it was simple luck. But now, looking back, I think he was probably right. He said there was no such thing as luck. That old guy knew his stuff, it turned out. I wish I’d have talked to him a little more instead of being so, well, so me. Ha!

  I’ll bet he could have told some tales about the Clone Wars. I’d heard stories about the Jedi Knights, but I thought they were long gone. So at the time I wasn’t sure the old man wasn’t just some delusional desert hermit. And if that was the case, I didn’t want him encouraging Luke. The kid had enough trouble with that attitude and smart mouth of his.

  Chewbacca: Rhhrrmuph.

  Han: Yeah, Chewie, at least we had something in common. Makes me laugh to think about it.

  But the old man, Ben Kenobi, I guess my intuition was right about him, too. Because something told me that he was the real deal. I just didn’t want to believe all that gibberish.

  Yet, I listened to him. I think because he trusted me right away. Trust is not something I shared with people in my line of work. Most of the people I work for trust one thing—money. Everybody’s on the lookout for who’s cheating who. But old Ben, Obi-Wan Kenobi, he accepted that I was as good as my word. It made me uneasy. He seemed to think I was more than a smuggler and vagabond. And that’s not just conjecture on my part.

  Sai’da: What did he think you were?

  Han: Good question. I don’t know exactly. Except that he told Luke when he met me that I wasn’t just another Corellian smuggler or some minor outlaw. Oh, sure, maybe that doesn’t sound exactly like praise to you, but I thought it was pretty perceptive. I’d worked hard to put up that front and the old man saw right through it. I’m telling you, he could turn those strange eyes of his on you and know you. At least it seemed that way. Kind of gave me the spooks, the way he looked at me—like he saw an alternative fate for me.

  I guess I saw myself as different from most people I associated with, too. Not that I put a lot of time and effort into thinking about it. I didn’t exactly sit around meditating like you religious types, wondering about the state of my soul. It was more like wondering about my next meal.

  Ahhh, I don’t
know.

  At the time I wasn’t admitting to all this. Not me. It’s amazing how my mouth just keeps flinging insults and challenges even when I haven’t exactly figured the situation out yet.

  Mainly it’s because I don’t want people to know what I’m thinking. You gotta be careful. People go sincere on you and if you fall for it they can sucker you into anything. You always gotta wonder what’s really up with people and keep them guessing about you. That’s a simple survival technique when you’re a smuggler. A habit.

  Besides, even if you’re fighting to save the galaxy, you need a sense of humor. Remind me to remind Luke about a sense of humor, Chewie. That kid is too serious for his own good sometimes.

  Chewbacca: Rowwwgh.

  Han: Right. We know how to keep it light if we need to, Chewie, my man.

  Hey, what’s that? Oh, don’t tell me—Jabba and his freak show. What a racket. I’m just gonna put that out of my head. I don’t even want to imagine what’s goin’ on. Not like I could do anything about it. Or could I? What do you think, Sai’da, my friend?

  Sai’da: I don’t think you want to know.

  Han: Know what? Hey—if Leia’s in trouble I’m not going to sit in here droning on. I need out. And your little history project will be history, if you catch my drift.

  Sai’da: Please calm down, Mr. Solo. I wasn’t referring to Princess Leia. It’s just that there is terror invoked by Jabba that is best left unspoken. Especially in situations like this when nothing can be done.

  Han: If I could get out of here then something could be done! I’m getting fed up. What good does it do me or Leia talking to you?

  Sai’da: I understand. Perhaps when I get the message to Leia, I can also bring word of her well-being to you. I am not without sympathy for your desire to help the princess and to free yourself.