Hero's Trial: Agents of Chaos I (32 page)

Han was considering just whose name he should drop to facilitate commandeering a fighter when another ship nosed through the docking bay’s transparent force field and surrendered itself to the grasp of the starliner’s artificial gravity.

It took Han a moment to accept that it really was the
Falcon
.

Droma guffawed in derision. “Will you look what the
Queen
dragged in.”

Han whirled on him, brows beetled and mouth an elongated O. “Hey, that’s my ship you’re talking about.”

Droma looked from Han to the
Falcon
and back again. “Your ship?”

Without bothering to explain, Han hastened for the landing zone while the
Falcon
was settling down on her broad disks of landing gear. He was waiting at the foot of the starboard ramp when Luke, Mara, and Leia appeared. Behind them came R2-D2 and C-3PO, who on seeing Han, raised his arms and nearly took a tumble in his haste to reach him.

“Thank the maker you’re alive!” the droid exclaimed. “I don’t know what I might have done had my actions contributed to your demise!” He turned to his counterpart. “You see, Artoo, no matter how great the odds, there is always a chance of beating them.”

Leia’s face lit up. She tried to run to Han’s arms, but he deftly avoided contact.

“Did you spot any departing shuttles when you were coming in?” he asked.

She shook her head. “We—”

“Leia, meet Droma,” he said in a rush, dragging the Ryn between them. “Droma: my wife, Leia.”

Leia blinked. “Droma? Who—”

“The corvette,” Han said to Luke. “Is it away?”

“No, Han—”

“Reck must be headed for the Yuuzhan Vong ship,” Han said, shooting Droma a look.

“Reck?” Leia asked.

“Peace Brigade,” Han said, as if one word. “They reclaimed the defectors.”

Luke regarded him with intense interest. “Defectors?”

Han turned to him and a fragile-looking Mara, clenching his fists in recall of what Elan had said about a Yuuzhan Vong–introduced illness.

“No time to explain.” He raced up the ramp.

Droma glanced at Leia. “Nice to meet you,” he said, then dashed up the ramp, stiff tail shaking behind him.

Luke looked at Leia in puzzlement. “Han, wait,” he started to say, when Leia laid a restraining hand on his arm.

“No, Luke, let him go.” She gazed up the ramp as Han and his accomplice were vanishing from view. “I’ve a feeling he needs this.”

Han let momentum carry him into the outrigger cockpit and clear into the pilot’s seat. He was flipping switches and toggles when Droma entered.

“You familiar with YT-1300s?” Han asked over his shoulder, both hands in ceaseless motion.

“Our caravan from the Corporate Sector included several 1300s—though that wasn’t something we bragged about.”

Han scowled and gestured to the copilot’s seat. “Strap in, scratch coat. This one’s something to brag about.”

Droma edged uncertainly between the rear chairs and settled into the outsize chair to Han’s right. “You’d have to be a person of considerable dimensions to fill this seat,” he said.

Han stopped what he was doing to look at Droma. And for a brief moment he had a vision of Chewbacca. Sitting tall in the seat, the Wookiee had a grin on his face and his big paws clasped behind his shaggy head. His black-tipped, cinnamon fur shone as if freshly shampooed and his teeth gleamed. He turned toward Han and boomed his delight in an earsplitting yowl, then woofed with laughter that reverberated throughout the ship.

Han’s chest filled with a tight warmth and his eyes brimmed with tears. He had to swallow to find his voice.

“You can say that again,” he muttered, swinging toward the viewport.

Droma assessed the cockpit as the
Falcon
powered up and repulsors moved her toward the hold’s magnetic transparency and the starfield beyond. “I thought you said you ran with a wealthy crowd.”

Han snorted a laugh and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “That guy in the robe back there—that was Luke Skywalker.”

Droma looked impressed. “The Jedi Skywalker?”

“One and the same. My wife is Leia Organa.”

Droma scratched his head. “So your real name is Han Organa?”

“
Solo
,” Han growled in annoyance. “Han Solo.” When Droma just stared at him, he added, “You’re saying you haven’t heard of me?”

“I may have,” Droma allowed. “But we Ryn meet so many people.”

Han loosed a long exhale and concentrated on the business at hand. Local space was still frenetic with war craft and fire, but the real fighting had moved far afield of the starliner, out toward where an ovoid Yuuzhan Vong ship was defending itself against an onslaught of laser beams and proton torpedoes.

In the time it had taken Leia to dock the
Falcon
, the Peace Brigade’s corvette had managed to disengage from the
Queen
and just now was trading shots with a quartet of X-wings in a race for the far side of the largest of the nearby planetoids. Closer to the planetoid, over which a New Republic cruiser-carrier hung like a lightsaber, starfighters and coralskippers were matched in a tumultuous battle.

“Set the friend-or-foe authenticator to scan for Sienar Fleet Systems
Martial
-class shuttles,” Han directed Droma while he increased power to the
Falcon
’s drive.

Droma located the authenticator and initiated a scan. “Found one,” he reported almost immediately. “Making for the Yuuzhan Vong ship.”

Han compressed his lips. In the heat of battle the New Republic pilots hadn’t recognized the shuttle as an enemy. “That would be Reck,” he said.

“We’ll never catch him.”

Han threw him a sidelong glance. “Don’t be fooled by age, partner.”

Despite the high setting of the inertial compensator, the
Falcon
’s sudden increase in velocity nearly pinned Droma to the seatback. His rakish cap flew from his
head and his eyes opened wide in astonishment. He loosed a raucous cry.

“Yee-ha, what a ship! What a beauty!”

Han merely grinned. “When you catch your breath, tell me about that shuttle.”

“Still closing on the enemy vessel,” Droma said through his thrill.

“Come on, come on,” Han urged his ship.

Unexpectedly, the comm board crackled to life. “
Millennium Falcon
, this is the
Thurse
. Ambassador, I thought I asked you to keep out of this.”

“Ambassador Organa Solo is presently aboard the
Queen
,” Han said toward the console’s audio pickup.

“Is that you, Han? It’s Mak Jorlen.”

“Mak!”

“What are doing out there, Han?”

“Chasing down a shuttle that has something the New Republic needs. Mak, once I grab it, I might need support on the way back in.”

“Affirmative,
Millennium Falcon
. And, Han, welcome back to the cause. Now I know we’ve got a fighting chance.”

Han felt Droma’s eyes on him.

“This gets more and more curious,” Droma said.

Han enabled the autotracking fire controller for the
Falcon’s
aft warship-rated quad laser. Bracketing the fleeing shuttle in the display’s targeting reticle, he moved his right hand to the trigger joystick.

He was about to fire when, without warning, the
Falcon
seemed to plunge through a gravitic anomaly. Han barely had time to hit the reverse thrusters to keep the ship from pouncing on its quarry in the worst of ways.

In fact, though, the shuttle had slowed drastically and was all but drifting in space. “It’s like it hit a repulsor field,” Han said as he made rapid adjustments to the controls.

Droma nodded. “She looks dead.”

When the distance between the
Falcon
and the shuttle had decreased to a few kilometers, Han unfastened his seat harness and stood up.

“Take over,” he told Droma. “Maneuver us alongside. Use the tractor beam if you need to. I’ll ready the portside grapple and cofferdam.”

“You’re planning to board?” Droma blurted, gawking at him. “The Yuuzhan Vong must know what it’s carrying. What if that ship draws a bead on us?”

Han glanced out the viewport. Still some distance away and illuminated by brilliant spherical explosions, the frigate sat at the center of a swirling firefight.

“Guess I’ll have to work fast,” Han said, and rushed from the cockpit.

On the bridge of the Yuuzhan Vong frigate, Nom Anor studied the villip’s enhanced view of the droop-winged shuttle the onboard dovin basal had repulsed and evidently traumatized. The same saucer-shaped ship that had destroyed the remote dovin basal had linked itself to the drifting shuttle, and those aboard—whether or not Jedi—were surely in the process of reclaiming the priestess the Peace Brigade had reclaimed earlier.

With the decimation the coralskippers were undergoing and the pounding Commander Malik Carr’s personal ship was taking, Nom Anor found it challenging to fix his attention on a single aspect of the battle. But as
Harrar had made abundantly clear, there was no more significant aspect than the recapture of Elan.

To the subaltern, he said, “Allow the New Republic ship a few moments with the shuttle before giving chase. We must convince them without overtaking them. By then, our coralskippers will have been all but annihilated and our final jump from this farce will at least appear credible.”

He glanced out the viewport at the maelstrom. “All glory to you warriors,” he sent quietly to the coralskipper pilots.

Suited up for EVA and armed with a blaster rifle, Han floated through the extensible vapor-tight tube that magnetically linked the
Falcon
’s portside docking arm to the shuttle’s starboard airlock. Making use of the cofferdam’s rigid-ring handholds, Han propelled himself along.

He stopped at the shuttle’s hatch to communicate with Droma over the helmet comlink a final time. “Any reply?”

“Nothing,” Droma told him once more. “The shuttle must have taken a hit without our noticing. Keep your suit tight.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Han said.

He switched off the rifle’s safety, brought a gloved hand to the external hatch release, and moved into the shuttle’s airlock. Once the hatch had resealed and the airlock had cycled, he raised the rifle to his midsection and hit the internal hatch release.

No one met him at the door.

“I’m inside,” he relayed to Droma. “Pressure, gravity,
and atmosphere are all operative. I’m going into the passenger compartment first.”

Opening the hatch, he stepped inside. A grainy black substance, which crunched underfoot, covered the deck plates and nearly every horizontal surface. Han stooped to take a pinch between his gloved fingers and bring it to the helmet’s faceplate. “Some kind of black stuff all over the place,” he said into the comlink. “Like tiny nut husks or something.”

“Any sign of Reck?”

Han moved down the aisle and gave a start as he came to the forward row of seats. Slumped there were three of Reck’s comrades, their faces hideously contorted and their shirts soaked with blood that had cascaded from eyes, ears, and noses.

“What is it?” Droma asked in anxious response to Han’s brief outcry.

“Three dead—from I don’t even know what. Massive blood vessel ruptures, it looks like.”

“You’re certain the shuttle didn’t depressurize?”

“Even if it did, this is like nothing I’ve ever seen.” Han glanced at the open forward hatch. “I’m moving into the cockpit.”

Inside he found the same black grit, as well as Reck, Capo, and the one Han thought to be a Yuuzhan Vong—all dead and similarly drenched in blood. Open and overturned on the floor was the case the enemy agent had carried. Close by lay the body of the vicious creature that had sent Elan’s ooglith masquer into a panic.

“Reck’s dead,” Han said into the comlink. “They’re all dead.”

“The females, too?”

“No sign of them. Unless they’re in cargo.”

Han took one last look at Reck. “Down you go,” he said, mostly to himself.

He walked back through the passenger compartment to the rear hold and hit the hatch release. “Found them,” he told Droma, even before the hatch had pocketed itself.

On a large square of deck grating lay Elan and Vergere, unconscious but otherwise unharmed. The hold was free of black husks. Han put his arm under Elan’s narrow shoulders and gently lifted her. Her intense blue eyes blinked open, then went wide in fright. She flailed in his arms, her sudden movements causing Vergere to stir, as well.

“It’s me—Han!” he said through the EVA suit’s external speaker.

Elan began to relax. “They drugged us,” she said groggily, then glanced around in confused apprehension. “Where are they? What happened? Why are you wearing a space suit?”

He helped her to her feet and slowly led her into the passenger compartment. Her foot had scarcely touched the black grit when she gasped and stood petrified.

“
Bo’tous
!” she said, in what Han assumed was Yuuzhan Vong. “A bioweapon—an airborne blood agent!”

“This black stuff is
bo
—whatever?”

Elan shook her head. “What you see is the aftermath of bo’tous—a harmless residue.” She gestured to the forward seats. “What they inhaled killed them.”

Vergere stepped from the cargo hold and stifled a scream.

“Everyone but you two are dead,” Han said.

Elan stared at him in bewilderment. “But who did this?”

“That’s what I’d like to know. Could the Peace Brigade have been carrying some of that … stuff?”

“Yes, possibly. They had a dovin basal and an unmasker. They might have had
bo’tous
, as well.” She looked at Han. “Perhaps they planned to use it on passengers aboard the starliner.”

“Why didn’t it affect you?”

“On launch from the
Queen of Empire
, they sealed us into the compartment where you found us.” She held his gaze. “We Yuuzhan Vong are immune, in any case.”

Han nodded noncommittally and activated the comlink. “Droma, meet me in the docking arm. I’m bringing them aboard.”

“You’d better be quick about it,” Droma replied rapidly. “That warship’s headed right for us!”

With missiles from the Yuuzhan Vong frigate slamming against her shields and detonating to all sides, the
Millennium Falcon
raced back toward the still-immobile starliner. Beams from the
Thurse
’s main batteries lashed blue light at the frigate, but to no apparent effect.