by Brian Daley
Han only dimly felt Rekkon hoist him up on one shoulder; he could hardly focus his eyes. But as Max came past, Rekkon took a pair of wide steps, pro-pelled himself into the air, and caught a foothold at the harvesters side. He pulled himself up a short lad-der and deposited Hah on a narrow catwalk. Some-how, Han managed to lift his head. He could make out, through the machines rough ride and the dis-tance, the knot of Espos bearing his friend away, a prisoner.
Han dawed at the metal under him, to throw him-self off the machine, to go back. Rekkon was on him instantly, pinning his arms with a strength and an in-tensity that were frightening. Hes my friendl Hah grimaced, writhing.
Rekkon shook him once more, with more emphasis than violence. Then help your ]riend.t urged the rich basso voice. Face hard fact you must save your-self to save him, and not throw both lives away!
The giant, imprisoning strength retreated and Han was left enervated, knowing Rekkon was right. Hold-ing the catwalk railing, he stopped staring at the in-distinguishable specks of Chewbacca and the Espos.
Ahh. He lowered his eyes disconsolately.
Chewie...
AS he overtook each of the escapees in turn, Max slowed the harvester just enough for them to board. First was Bollux, who had fallen behind the others despite his best efforts; he made a last bound with a deep sproing from his suspension, found a servo-grip hold, and drew himself aboard. Then came Term, who, pacing the harvester, made an athletically skillful mount. Lastly, Atuarre and Pakka came aboard, the cub clinging to his mothers tail. Blue Max accelerated for the spaceport perimeter.
Rekkon still held Hah to the catwalk, but now it was to make sure he wouldnt fall. Captain, you must accept that theres no more you can do here. Your chances of getting to Chewbacca here on erron III are vanishing small. And, more to the point, its doubtful hell be here for long. Surely hell be taken for interrogation, just like the others. Our mission is yours now; its nearly certain the Weekice wdl be put in with the rest of the Authoritys special enemies.
Han wiped blood from his forehead, pulled himself upright, and began climbing a maintenance ladder. Where are you going? Rekkon demanded.
Someone has to tell Max where hes going, Han answered.
The spaceport was guarded by a security fence of fine mesh, ten meters high, carrying a lethal charge maintained by transmitting posts along its length. An unprotected man, or even an armored one, would stand no chance of making it through, but the har-vester offered a special form of protection. Everybody get to a catwalk, Rekkon called. Stand on the insulated strips? His various compan-ions, Hah included, rushed for positions, bracing their feet on the thick runners of insulation on the mechan-ics catwalks.
The harvester hit the field area as Max threw his cutter blades into motion again. Defensive energy spat and spattered all around the agrirobot, discharging across its bow in skittering strands. Then the fence was torn apart by the harvesters blades, a twenty-meter length of it ripped loose and engulfed. The defensive field faded along that part of the fence, its continuity broken. Whereupon the giant machine churned out on-to the fiat, press-bonded landing area.
Han hauled himself up and looked down at Max, nestled in the control niche. Can you program this crate so itll run without you?
The computer prohes photoreceptor swiveled around, coming up to bear on him. Thats what its built to do, but itll remember only simple things, Cap-tain. For a machine its pretty dumb.
Hah weighed his suspicions, presumptions, and a knowledge of security procedures. Theyll be rushing their men to the passenger-ship end of the port; they wont think the barges are any good to us. But theyll certainly be looking for this tub, Max. Set it up so itll give us a few seconds to get dear, then head itself down toward the main port area. To the others, he called, Checkout time! Everybody pound ground!
From Blue Max came low buzzes, beeps, and wonks of his labors. Then he announced, Done, Captain, but we better get off right now.
Han reached down as Max disengaged himself from the harvesters controls, pulled free the connector jacks Chewbacca had inserted, and lifted the computer out of the niche. There was a carrying strap in a recessed groove on Maxs top. Han pulled it out and slung Max over his shoulder.
When he reached the ground, Rekkon and the oth-ers were already there. They all stepped back as the harvester ground into motion again, wheeled promptly, and tore off between rows of barges. From the bar-vester, Han had already spotted, not far away, the barge shell concealing the Millennium Falcon. He handed Blue Max back to Bollux and started for his ship at a dead run, with the rest keeping up as best they could.
The outer hatch, the makeshift one, wasnt dogged, of course. He pushed it aside, palmed the ramp and inner hatch open. Then he dashed to the cockpit and began swiping at controls, bringing his ship back to life, yelling Rekkon, say the word the second every-bodys onboard, and hang onto your heirlooms! He pulled on his headset and deserted all caution, think-ing, Hell with prefiight. He brought the barges engines up to full power all at once, and simply hoped they wouldnt blow or dummy out on liftoff.
His best hope lay in the nature of bureacracy. Some-where back in the fields, the Espo detachment com-mander was trying to explain to his superior what had happened. That man, in turn, would have to contact port security and give them the rundown. Given a creaky enough chain of command, the Falcon still stood a chance.
Han pulled on his flight gloves and ran through his preparations with a sharp feeling of incompleteness; he was used to dividing the tasks with Chewbacca, and each detail of the liftoff drove home the fact that his friend Wasnt there.
He checked the barges readouts-and swore sev-eral of his choicer curses. Bollux, stumping into the cockpit to relay Rekkons word that all was secure, added, Whats wrong, Captain?
The motherless barge is whats wrong! Some over-eager Authority expediter filled it up already! The instruments proved it; several hundred thousand met-tic tons of grain were stowed in the barges vast shell. There went Hans plan for rapid ascent.
But, sir, Bollux asked in his unhurried speech pat-tern, cant you release the barge shell?
If the explosive-releases worked, and i/ I didnt damage the Falcon, Id still have to get above the ports close-proximity defenses, and maybe a picket ship. He turned and yelled back down the passage-way, Rekkon! Get somebody in those gun turrets; we may have to stand tall! Hah could operate the ships top and belly turrets by means of serves from the cockpit, but remote control was a poor substitute for sentient gunners. And screw your navels in; we go in twenty seconds! He fumed over the fact that the barges engines took so much longer to heat up than the Falcons.
Port control, having noticed that the barge was pre-paring to lift, began transmitting to what it still pre-sumed to be a robotized ship orders to abort liftoff. Hah hit the overrides and had the barges computer answer by acknowledging clearance as if it had re-ceived permission to go. Port control repeated the com-mand to hold, convinced it was dealing with a com-puter malfunction along with all its other problems.
Hah brought the engines up. The barge wallowed up from its pit, bending aside the boarding gantry, ig-noting all directions to do otherwise. As his radius of vision increased with altitude, Han spied the aban-doned harvester. It was halfway to the other end of the giant port, surrounded by Espo hover-vans, skim-mers, and self-propelled artfilery. The harvester h ad been partially disabled, but still obeyed its preset pro-gramming mindlessly, trying to grind forward.
As Han watched, a cannonade from all sides stopped the huge machine for good, gouging large chunks from it, turning most of the harvesters lower chassis into wreckage. Someone no longer cared whether prisoners were taken or not. The harvesters power plant went up in a fireball, and the harvester split in half with a force that rocked the Espo field pieces back.
As the barge rose higher, responding sluggishly un-der its burden of cargo, ignoring chatter from the port control, Han saw the place where Chewbacca had been captured. Other Espo vehicles were gathered near
the wreck of the hovervan. Hah couldnt tell whether his partner was there or had already been taken away, but the fields were crawling with Security Police, like a pestilence among the golden-red grain, searching for possible stragglers. Rekkon had been right; going back wouldve spelled certain disaster.
The barge gave a sudden, convulsive shudder, and the Falcons passengers felt as if someone had caught them by the collar and given a yank. With an ominous feeling, Hah punched up the rear screens. Bollux, hav-ing nearly fallen, lowered himself into the navigators chair, inquiring what was wrong. Hah ignored him.
It had been a picket ship, in transpolar orbit, that he and Chewbacca had picked up just prior to land-ing. Even Rekkon hadnt realized how security-minded the Authority was about Orron III. Moving up hard astern the barge was a dreadnaught, one of the mili-tarys old Invincible Class capital ships---over two kil-ometers long, bristling with gun turrets, missile tubes, tractor-beam projectors, and deflector shields, armored like a protosteel mountain. The dreadnaught hailed them with the demand that the barge halt, and at the same time identified herself the Shannadors Revenge. Shed locked her tractors onto the barge, and com-pared with her raw power, the lighters beam back on Duroon had been a mere beckoning finger.
Church is out, Han observed, bringing his ord-nance up to charge and preparing to angle deflector shields, for all the good it would do. The dreadnaught had enough weaponry to hold and vaporize a score of ships like the Falcon. Han opened the intercom. That shake-up was a tractor. Everybody stay cool-things could get rough. As if we have a prayer, he finished to himself. But he had no intention of being caught alive. Better to shorten a few Espo careers, and go out in style.
There were sounds of banging, tearing metal from the barge shell, of parting supports and struts. Some of the superstructural features, weakened or loosened by alterations to the hull, had been pulled free by the trac-tor beam and gone flying back toward the hannadors Revenge.
Han took inspiration from it. He bad at his side breadboarded computer overrides for the barges every function. His fingers stabbed at them as he shouted, Everybody brace! Were gonna- and was slammed back in his seat. Hed hit the cargo release, opening the barges rear dump-doors. Hundreds of thousands of tons of grain were poured into the dreadnaughts tractors, pulled toward the Shannadors Revenge by her own brute power, fanning out in a blinding con-trail, as the barge surged ahead with a lightening load.
The dreadnaught was engulfed, her sensors muffled by the tidal wave of grain. Han, with one eye on his own sensors, saw that the warship was driving straight on through the hail of grain, closing quickly on the barge even though she was blinded. Her tractor beams were still clamped onto the barges stern, and Han wondered how long it would be before her skipper gave the command to open fire.
There was only one other possibility. He hit the con-trols, cutting in the barges retrothrusters, and with virtually the same motion, slapped the emergency re-leases. His other hand hovered over the main drive control of the Millennium Falcon.
The barge shell shook, losing much of its velocity, while the reports of exploding bolts sounded through both the freighter and the larger ship around it. Super-structural elements, added to secure the Falcon and disguise her lines, were blown clear. A split second later, the Falcons engines howled to life, their blue fire tearing the smaller ship free of the breakaway sup-ports holding her and severing her external control hookups.
Han took the Falcon on the same course hed been holding, keeping the barge shell between himself and the Authority warship. The Shannadors Revenge, her sensors impaired, had failed to note the barge shells drastic drop in speed. The dreadnaughts captain was calling for a vector change just as the warship rammed the decelerating barge. The Shannadors Revenges for-ward screens flared with impact, and her anticoncus-sion fields cut in instantly on collision, as she cut the floating hulk of the barge shell in half in a terrific im-pact and suffered structural damage of her own. The warships forward sensor suite was disabled; she ro-sounded with alarms and damage reports. Airtight doors began booming shut automatically, triggered by decompressire hull ruptures.
The Millennium Falcon was clawing for the upper atmosphere. The thought that hed bloodied the nose of a battlewagon, escaping against all odds, didnt lighten Hans mood, nor did the thought that hyper-space and safety were only moments away. Occupying his mind was one simple, intolerable fact his friend and partner was now in the merciless hands of the Corporate Sector Authority.
When the stars had parted before him and the ship was safely in hyperspace, Han sat for long minutes thinking that he couldnt remember the last time hed spaced without the Wookiee beside him. Rekkon had been right in arguing for escape, but that didnt change Hans feeling that hed let Chewbacca down.
But regrets were a waste of time. Han stripped off his headset and shoved himseft out of his seat. Rekkon was his only hope now. He headed for the forward compartment, the ships combination lounge-mess-me area, and realized something was wrong while he was still in the passageway. There was the pungent smell of ozone, the smell of blaster fire. Rekkon!
Han ran to where the scholar slumped over the gameboard. Hed been shot from behind, by a blaster set on needle-beam at low power. The sound of it probably hadnt even carried across the compartment. On the gameboard, under Rekkons body, was a port-able readout. Next to it a clear puddle of molten liquid bubbled, the remains of the data plaque. Rekkon was dead, of course; hed been shot at close range.
Hah leaned on a bulkhead pad, rubbing his eyes and wondering what to do next. Rekkon had been his sole hope for rescuing Chewbacca and for getting him-self out of this insane jam. With Rekkon dead, the hard-won information gone, and at least one traitor-murderer onboard, Han felt alone for one of the few times in his life. His blaster was in his hand, but there was no one else in the compartment or in the passage-way.
A tattering on the rungs of the main ladderwell. Han ran to it just as Torm came climbing up from the Falcons belly turret. As he came up, Torre found him-self staring into the muzzle of Hans gun.
Just give over your pistol, Torm. Keep your right hand on the rung, and do it with your left, easy. Dont make a mistake; itd be your one and only.
When he had the other mans weapon, Han let him ascend, then made him shuck his tool belt. Patting him down and finding no other weapons, Han motioned for him to move into the lounge, then called up the lad-derwell for Atuarre to come down from the ships top quad-mount.
He kept one eye on Torm, who was staring in shock at Rekkons body. Wheres her cub? he asked the man quietly.
The redhead shrugged. Rekkon told Pakka to look around for a medi-pack. You werent the only one who was injured along the way. The cub went off to rum-mage around. I guess when you yelled for everyone to stay put and hang on, he did. He looked back to Rek-kon, as if he couldnt fathom the fact of the mans death. Who did it, Solo? You?
No. And the list of possibilities is awfully short. He heard Atuarres light tread on the rungs and cov-ered her as she came down the ladderwell.
The Trianiis features became a mask of feline ha-tred. You dare point a weapon at me?
Gag it. Toss your gun out here, careful, then step out and drop the tool belt. Somebodys killed Rekkon, and it could be you as easy as anyone. So dont push me. Im not telling you twice.
Her eyes were wide now, the news of Rekkons death appearing to shock her out of her fury. But how can I tell if its real or an act? Han asked himself.
When he had them both in the forward compart-ment, he still found he couldnt pick up anything but shock and dismay. Theirs, at least, served to prod him out of his own.
A clanking on the deckplates marked Bolluxs arri-val from the cockpit. Han didnt look around until he heard the urgency in the droids voice. Captain!
Han whirled, dropping to one knee, blaster up. Be-yond the cockpit offshoot from the passageway crouched the cub, Pakka, his small pistol held in one paw-hand, a medi-pack swinging from the other. He seemed to be wavering indecisively.
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He thinks youre threatening me! Atuarre rasped, moving toward her cub. Hah swung his blaster to cover her and looked back to the cub. Tell the kid to drop it and come to you, Atuarre. Do it!
She did, and the cub, shifting his wide eyes between Han and his mother, obeyed.
Torre took the medi-pack from the cub and handed it to Han. Still covering his passengers, Han moved to an acceleration chair and opened the pack with his free hand. He held the nozzle of an irrigation bulb against his forehead injury, then wiped at it with a dis-infectant pad.
Putting the medi-pack down, he took up the three confiscated weapons, put them aside, and confronted Torm, Atuarre, and Pakka. His mind ran in circles. How to tell who had done it? Theyd each had a weapon, and time. Either Pakka had doubled back from his search, or one of the others had left his turret long enough to murder. Han almost regretted not hav-ing exchanged fire with the Shannadors Revenge; at least hed have known if either of the quad-mounts was untended.
Atuarre and Torm were trading suspicious looks now. Rekkon told me, Tonn was saying, that he took you and the cub on against his better judgment.
Me? she shrilled. What about you? She turned to Hall. Or, for that matter, you?
That shook him. Sister, Im the one who got you out of there, remember? Besides, how could I lift off and shoot Rekkon at the same time? And anyway, Bol-lux was with me. Han rummaged again in the medi-pack, dug out a patch of synth-flesh, and pressed it over his injury, his mind in a turmoil.
That all couldve been done by computer, Solo, or you could have killed him just before I came down, Torm said. And what goods a droid for a witness? Youre the one pointing the blaster around, hotshot.
Hah, pushing the medi-pack aside, replied, I11 tell you what youre all, all three of you, going to keep an eye on one another, and Im going to be the only one with a gun. If anybody has the wrong look on his face, its going to be all over for him. Youre all fair game, understand?