Star Wars - Han Solo and the Lost Legacy (13 page)

They charged into collision, a butting of great heads whose report sounded like the crack of a tree trunk, and an impact of muscular necks and broad chests that sent waves racing outward. Neither seemed hurt as they circled for position,
flippers whipping the water into foam. The shore-gang boss was paddling toward his raft, eager to be out of the behemoths’ way.

Han felt Bollux’s hard finger tap his shoulder. “You’ll no doubt be wanting this, sir. I caught it before it could go overboard, but you didn’t seem to hear me call you.” He passed over Han’s blaster.

Without taking his eyes from the battle, Han promised, “I’m doubling your salary,” ignoring the fact that he had never paid the ’droid a thing.

Kasarax wailed; he had been too slow on the withdrawal after nipping Shazeen. The older bull hadn’t gotten a full grip with his fangs, and Kasarax had gotten away, but now blood flowed down his neck scales. Kasarax, wild with rage, charged again.

Shazeen met him head-on, each of them trying to butt and bite, to press the other under the surface, shrieking and trumpeting. Shazeen failed to repel a determined assault by Kasarax and slid back as the younger creature surged up over him seeking a death grip on his uncle’s throat. But he had been too eager. Shazeen had drawn him out and now the older bull dropped his pretext and dove, rolling. His blunt tail slammed Kasarax’s skull, and the younger combatant fell back in pain. They resumed butting heads, biting, thrashing flippers, and colliding with one another.

“Hang on!” warned Hasti, the only one who had thought to watch for other danger. The raft shuddered and timbers splintered as the bow was tipped into the air.

It was one of Kasarax’s followers, a very young bull from the looks of him. He had closed crushing jaws on the raft’s stern, shaking it, spouting wrathful blasts from his blowhole. He tore a meter-wide bite out of the raft, spat the wood aside, then came at them again. Han set his blaster to maximum power.

“Don’t kill him!” Hasti shouted. “You’ll have them all down on us!”

As the sauropteroid butted the raft, nearly capsizing it,
Han bellowed. “What do you want me to do, sweetheart, bite him back?”

“Leave it to them,” she answered, pointing. She meant the other Swimmers, who were closing in. Kasarax’s over-eager follower had ignited a general fray. One—Han thought it was the female who had surfaced at the dock and offered support to Shazeen—kicked up an impressive bow-wave, making straight for the raft. But once again the creature closed jaws on the raft’s stern.

The trick’s to keep on breathing till help arrives
, Han told himself. He spied the cone of gooey dough Hasti had brought, still more than half-full. He reached for it, calling, “Chewie! Lock hands!”

Han got to unsteady feet. The Wookiee reached out his long arm and caught Han’s free hand, steadying him. The young bull had seen him coming and opened its maw, but when he pulled up short it closed its jaws with a crash and blew a geyser of spray through its blowhole.

When he saw the edges of the blowhole vibrate with the indrawing of breath, Han jammed the cone of dough down on it as hard as he could. It landed on the sucking blowhole with a peculiar
shloop
!

The Swimmer froze, its eyes bulging. Into what air passages and chambers the dough had been drawn, Han couldn’t begin to guess. The creature shook, then exploded in a sneeze that convulsed him, kicking up a fountain of water and nearly blowing Han off the raft with the fish-scented gust.

At that moment Shazeen’s friend arrived. She hit the younger creature and they battled furiously. All around, pairs of the creatures rolled, ducked, bit, and butted in pitched combat. Scaled hides took tremendous punishment and the sound threatened to deafen the humans; the turbulence promised to capsize the raft.

Han kept his attention riveted on Shazeen and Kasarax, thinking,
If that old bull loses, it’ll be a wet stroll home. And the fish are biting today!

Both bulls were torn and injured, chunks missing from
each one’s hide and flippers. The older one moved slowly, worn down by his nephew’s youthful endurance. They rammed together for another fierce exchange. Surprisingly, Kasarax went under.

Shazeen sought to follow up his advantage but failed to keep track of his antagonist and circled aimlessly. The air was so full of pealing battle cries that Shazeen took no notice of his passengers’ warnings. Kasarax had slyly and quietly surfaced behind his uncle and to his left, in the blind spot resulting from his missing eye. The younger Swimmer lunged with jaws gaping for a lethal grip at the base of his uncle’s skull.

But Shazeen moved with abrupt speed, coming around and bringing his head up sharply, tagging Kasarax’s chin with the boniest part of his foreskull. The crack echoed from the opposite lakeshore. Dazed by the terrible blow, Kasarax barely had time to wobble before Shazeen had his throat tightly between black jaws.

“That old con artist!” Badure whooped. Chewbacca and Hasti hugged, and Han leaned on the rail, laughing. Shazeen was shaking his nephew’s head, mercilessly, side to side and forward and back, but refraining from the death bite.

At last Kasarax, head bent back at a painful angle, no fight left in him, began a pitiful croaking. All around him, combat ceased at the sounds of ritualistic surrender. When all the others had separated, Kasarax was released and allowed to tread water meekly while his uncle stormed at him in the sibilant language of their kind.

With a final, piercing rebuke, Shazeen sent his nephew off with a hard butt of his head. Kasarax submitted, then stroked slowly away to haul his tow-raft back the way he had come. His followers trailed him in disarray, convoyed by Shazeen’s victorious supporters.

Shazeen moved to his own raft, feeling the pain he hadn’t allowed himself to show his enemies. Bleeding from fearsome wounds, his scarred, one-eyed head battered and torn, he asked, “Now then, where were we?”

“
I
was in the drink,” Han reminded him. “
You
were hauling the raft around to take out the shore-gang boss. Got him right in the bulb, too. Thanks.”

The old bull made a gurgling sound resembling a chuckle. “An accident, peewee; didn’t I tell you it’s un-Lawful to meddle in a human squabble?” He gurgled again, bringing his wide chest against the raft’s stern and shoving toward the opposite shore.

“What about your nephew?” Hasti wanted to know.

“Oh, he’s through trying to make the lake his own pond. Fool idea would have gotten him killed sooner or later anyway, and he’s too valuable to waste. I’ll need a deputy soon; haven’t got many more scraps like that one left in me. These youngsters always think they’re clever, going for my blind side.”

“I still wouldn’t trust him,” Han warned.

“You don’t trust
anybody
,” Hasti chided.

“And you don’t see me getting my flipper bit, do you?” he retorted smugly.

“Oh, Kasarax will be all right,” Shazeen said. “He just thought he wanted us to fear him. He’ll like it better once we respect him; all but the worst ones come around, given the chance.”

The far shore had come up quickly. Shazeen propelled them toward it with a few more hard strokes, then flipped over and shoved them on with a sweep of his rear flippers. The raft nosed onto the strand, lifted on the crest. Han stepped onto the damp sand.

The others followed him. Badure had a rather sick Skynx slung over one shoulder. The female who had saved Shazeen’s passengers surfaced next to him, obviously concerned.

But her eye fell on Hasti, whose cowl had fallen back to display her red hair. “You had a rougher ride this time, human,” the Swimmer observed.

Hasti registered confusion. “Wasn’t that you,” the Swimmer female asked, “back before Kasarax took over? Sorry;
the hair and, what do you call them, the clothes, are just the same.”

Hasti whispered, “Lanni! These are her clothes!”

Badure asked the female what this passenger had done.

“Just came across and asked people questions about those mountains there, waved a little machine in the air, then went back,” she replied.

Han, pouring water from his boot, looked up at the mountains rearing to the south. “What’s up there?”

“Nothing,” answered Shazeen. “Humans don’t usually go up there. Fewer come back. They say it’s just desolation up there.” He was studying Chewbacca, who had doffed the hated cloak, Bollux’s gleaming form, and the now-reviving Skynx.

“I’d heard that,” agreed Badure. “The mining camp lies on the far side of the mountains, Han, but I’d reckoned we’d go around. Why should Lanni have been interested in them, I wonder?”

Han stood up. “Let’s find out.”

X

THE terrain lifted away from the lakeshore in a series of rolling hills carpeted with soft, blue moss that cushioned their steps. Han was gratified to see the moss spring back when they had passed, thereby obliterating the group’s prints.

Supplies were no problem. The workers on this side of the lake, all members of Kasarax’s shore gang, had departed in haste on seeing their leader defeated, fearing the blood-vengeance of the non-gang members. Calculating a ten- to twelve-day march through the mountains, the party had carefully picked through the abandoned storage buildings for provisions and equipment.

They had filled their packs with jars of lake crustaceans marinated in syrup, plastic cartons of the doughy stuff Hasti had first sampled, tubes of pickled vegetable slices, bags of meal, smoked fish, cured meat, and some hard purple sausages. Even though they carried capacious water bladders, they were relying on finding more water in the mountains. According to the survey map, there were abundant run-offs and fresh springwater throughout the area. Those who wore clothing had gathered cold weather gear. Han had pulled off his wet clothes, settling for a Dellaltian outfit until he could dry his own, and contrived a bandage for the knife cut. Practicality had made Hasti exchange her robes and gown for an outfit suitable for an adolescent boy. They had also found thick, insulated bedrolls.

There were no riding animals or power vehicles to be found. But Han didn’t mind, trusting unfamiliar beasts no
more than he did the aged and breakdown-prone Dellaltian machinery. Bollux, who could bear a heavy pack and yet consumed no water or food, found that his popularity had increased. They felt lucky to have him along, knowing none of the local domesticated animals or ground vehicles were suited to the mountain terrain and aircraft were few and far between on Dellalt. They had found some lengths of rope, but no other climbing gear. Neither had they found medicine or a medi-pack, additional weapons or charges, commo or navigational gear, heating unit, or macrobinoculars or tele-eye, though the scope on Han’s blaster would be some compensation for the last. For shelter, they had brought along a wagoner’s tent they found in one of the abandoned buildings.

And they were armed. In addition to Han’s side arm and Chewbacca’s bowcaster, they also had the weapons captured from J’uoch’s forces. Badure carried the stun-gun he had already used and a brace of long-barreled power pistols. Hasti had a compact disrupter, a dart-shooter loaded with toxic missiles, and a blaster, but the latter was nearly exhausted because Han had used it to recharge his own. Skynx declined to bear arms, which his species never used, and Bollux’s basic programming, the ’droid said, prohibited him from using them as well.

Ascending the foothills, they kept the ridge lines between themselves and the region behind, though Han doubted anyone was taking time to try to spot them. The collapse of Kasarax’s racket was probably occupying everyone’s attention. Gusting winds tore across the open hills, pressing at the resilient moss and stirring the travelers’ hair, clothing, and fur. The country was stark and vacant. Lacking a second comlink, they decided not to put out a point-walker, but rather to rely on the wide field of surveillance they could maintain.

Chewbacca took the lead, treading the blue moss lightly for all his size, testing the air with black nostrils flaring. His blue eyes moved constantly, his hunter’s senses keenly attuned. A dozen paces behind trudged Bollux. The labor ’droid
had opened his chest plastron a crack at the computer’s demand, and Max was taking in the view.

Next came Badure and Hasti side by side. Skynx followed after, carrying only his musical instruments because none of the packs fit him and he couldn’t have borne much weight anyway. Undulating along, he kept pace without difficulty.

Han brought up the rear, frequently casting glances behind, making, minute adjustments in the balance and shoulder-strap padding of the makeshift pack he had thrown together. He lined up prominent terrain features and did his best to keep track of their direction and course, since that was the only way they would have of orienting themselves to the surveying map. From time to time he thought about the treasure, but the open countryside and the brisk wind made him happier than he would have admitted. In a way, they reminded him of the freedom of space travel.

The group moved on throughout the morning with deliberate speed, Han stopping frequently to scan his blaster’s scope for some sign of pursuit. But as Dellalt’s blue-white primary climbed the sky and none appeared, they slowed a bit, saving strength for the long journey.