Star Wars: The Han Solo Trilogy I: The Paradise Snare (27 page)

H
an and Nebl made good time on their return trip, and Han guided the
Ylesian Dream
down through the clouds on the nightside. They saw several spectacular storm cells lit up from within by lightning, but when they landed at Colony One an hour or so past midnight in the short Ylesian night, it was not, for a miracle, raining. Jalus Nebl turned to Han and commented, “Nice landing. I can’t say I’ve ever done better.”

Han smiled at the praise and was still grinning happily as they came down the ramp and onto the landing field. Both he and the Sullustan had to hastily don their infrared goggles—the night was dead-black, and not a single star was visible.

“Well, I’m off to get a few hours of sleep, lad,” the Sullustan said as he turned to head for the infirmary, where he
was still under treatment, though he was no longer having to breathe filtered air. “Good night.”

“Night, Nebl,” Han answered, and he turned, yawning, toward the path that led to the Administration Center.
My bunk’s gonna feel awful good
, he thought.
Think I’ll sleep in and—

Without warning, something large grabbed him from behind, and a furred paw-hand clamped over his mouth to stifle his yell of surprise. Han gasped as he was lifted clean off the path and carried a few steps into the jungle. Then a familiar voice breathed into his ear, “Muuurgh is sorry to have to do that, but Vykk was going to yell. We must be quiet.”

The Togorian set the Corellian on his feet again, and Han took a deep breath, preparatory to giving the giant alien a good scolding about not scaring people on dark nights. Muuurgh shook his furry head, and something about his expression, as seen through the infrared goggles, stopped Han in midword. Instead he asked quietly, “What’s wrong?”

“I found Mrrov,” Muuurgh said. “Pilot will be roused at dawn to fly to Colony Two and take her and other shipload of pilgrims to space station to meet an incoming ship. Ship coming from Kessel, must be—so no time to lose. Must escape.
Now
. Or Mrrov will be gone.”

Han shook his head. He was tired—he’d been sleeping in short shifts for the past four nights, and it was catching up with him. “Escape? Tonight?”

“Yesssss!” Muuurgh’s anxiety was catching. Han could feel adrenaline beginning to course through his body. “Must escape! Tell Muuurgh what to do! Almost two hours before dawn. By sunrise Mrrov will be waiting with others at Altar place, and Vykk and Muuurgh must be ready with ship!”

“Okay, okay, pal. Calm down.” Han tried to think what had to be done first. “You’ve caught me by surprise here, and I need a second to unscramble my brain. First things first. We’ll need some blasters. Five or six of ’em. You used
to live in the guards’ barracks. Think you can sneak in and get ’em?”

Muuurgh nodded. “Yessss … I will get five or six blasters.”

“If I were you, I’d swipe ’em from the Gamorreans. They’re dumb as a box of rocks, and they sleep like logs.”

Muuurgh’s whiskers twitched with amusement. “Yessss …”

“Okay, then. Meet me in front of the Administration Center in half an hour.”

With a final nod, Muuurgh melted into the underbrush.

Han headed for the Administration Center. First item on his agenda was to knock out the Colony’s comm units. He didn’t want anyone summoning reinforcements from the other colonies, or warning them that there was trouble afoot.

When the Corellian reached the comm center, he dug in his pocket for the scrap of flimsy that Bria had given him containing all of the security codes she’d gained from her foray into Teroenza’s mind. There was the code for Teroenza’s personal yacht,
Talisman
, the ship Han planned to use for their getaway. There was the code for Teroenza’s private living quarters, and the code for the collection room. And there was also the code for the operations center that contained the Colony’s generators, the base security viewscreens, the droid repair shop, the weapons lockers, and the comm unit.

Han tiptoed through the quiet hallways, wondering if he’d catch a glimpse of Muuurgh on his errand, but he saw not a flicker of motion. By now he knew enough about the security layout of Colony One to automatically avoid the bored night guards—who were, most likely, from what he’d seen on his previous forays, asleep at their posts.

It seemed an eternity before he reached the operations center, but finally he was there, entering Bria’s code. With a soft electronic hum, the door swung open. “That’s my girl,” Han muttered as he crept inside.

There was a guard stationed there, as Han had known there would be. A Twi’lek, asleep in the chair, feet propped
up on the comm-unit console, head-tails dangling behind him like two ropes of pallid flesh. Resounding snores vibrated through the still air.

Han drew his blaster, changed the setting to
STUN
, and squeezed the trigger. A blue, circular burst erupted, enveloping the guard. The Twi’lek jerked once, then collapsed bonelessly into the chair, looking exactly the same—except the snores had stopped. “That’s a definite plus,” Han muttered, holstering his gun.

Stepping over to the comm unit, he pulled out the small multitool most pilots automatically carried in their pockets, and set to work loosening the casing. He intended to disable the comm unit, then replace the casing, so whoever tried to use it wouldn’t realize for a while that it had been sabotaged.

Moments later he lifted the outer shell off and put it on the floor. His eyes widened at the myriads of wires, circuits, transponders, cables, and row after row of identical unlabeled compartments. Han groaned aloud. “How’m I supposed to know which of these carries the line to the power generators?”

Selecting a wire at random, he cut it with the multitool’s small laser torch. The power indicator remained
ON
. Han cut another wire. Then another. With growing frustration, he grabbed a handful of the circuits and yanked them loose.

Still no visible result.

Swearing under his breath, he ripped and tore and lasered ruthlessly, until he was breathing hard with the effort—and the power was still on!

Over five minutes had passed.

“Stupid board …” Han snarled and, drawing his blaster, thumbed it up to full intensity and discharged it right into the middle of the stubborn console’s innards. Flames shot up, the smell of singed insulation tickled his nostrils, sparks erupted—

—and the power indicator went out.

“That’s better,” Han muttered grimly. For good measure, he stunned the Twi’lek again, then he turned and left.

Once outside the Administration Center, he pulled on
his goggles and headed down the jungle path at a trot. His strides came faster and faster, until he was nearly running full-out, and only a headlong fall into a mud puddle slowed him down. Dripping and cursing, he climbed back to his feet and headed off again.

The other buildings were ahead of him, now, including Bria’s dorm. Han had checked out the dorms long ago and determined that unlike the Administration Center and the spice factories, they were not guarded at night. After all, the t’landa Til didn’t care whether anyone harmed their slaves—slaves were easily replaceable.

Bria’s little bunk was on the second floor. A dim night-light glowed in the stair landing. Han tiptoed up the stairs, blaster set on
STUN
at the ready, but he met no one. The pilgrims were so euphoric after the Exultation each night that they slept like the dead.

Han wasn’t sure exactly which bunk Bria occupied. Peering through his goggles, he padded quietly down the central aisle, glancing at the sleeping faces in the various types of sleeping couches, pallets, and bunks favored by various species.

A board creaked beneath his foot, and Han paused, holding his breath. A figure sat up in a human-style bunk, clad in a sleeveless white nightshirt. “Vykk?” she whispered.

Han nodded and beckoned urgently. “Fast!” he hissed.

To his surprise, she was already wearing her pants. Grabbing her overtunic and her sandals, she tiptoed toward him, automatically avoiding the squeaky floorboard.

Together, in silence, they made a cautious way down the stairs, through the hall, and out into the blackness of the night. Bria pulled on her goggles.

“C’mon,” Han said, catching her hand before she had time to say a word. “We’ve gotta hurry!”

He broke into a run, and she pounded gamely alongside him. Soon, though, her strides shortened, and he could tell that she was fighting a stitch in her side. Slowing to a rapid walk, he towed her along the jungle path. She was breathing too hard to speak, but Han, who was in better shape, caught his breath quickly.

“Tonight’s the night,” he told her. “I need you and Muuurgh to start in on Teroenza’s collection, while I get the guards off our backs. Think you can do it?”

She nodded breathlessly. “Ganar Tos …” she gasped.

“Forget him,” Han said curtly. “You’ll never see him again, with any luck.”

“But he … and Teroenza …” She yielded to his urgent tug and began jogging again. “Going to make … me … marry … him …”

Han’s eyes widened. “Ganar Tos wanted to
marry
you? Minions of Xendor! Good thing we’re gettin’ outta here!”

Unable to speak again, she just nodded.

By the time they reached the Administration Center, Bria had her second wind. She followed Han as he led the way down the darkened corridors to the door of Teroenza’s collection room. Muuurgh was waiting for them. At his feet lay a pile of blasters. Bria’s eyes widened. “What are those for?”

“Diversion,” Han said. “Okay, now … here’s this bypass code …” Quickly he entered the code, and as before, the door opened. The three of them tiptoed into the huge, dimly lit room. Han reached into Bria’s desk and removed a powerful glowrod and flicked the bright light around the room. “Think we dare turn on the lights?”

She nodded. “It’s well sealed. I checked that last week. No way to see it from Teroenza’s apartment.”

Han switched on the overhead lights, and the room was suddenly fully illuminated.

Since Bria had taken over the maintenance of the collection, she’d rearranged the entire room. The collection cases gleamed, the shelves were far less cluttered, and the colors on the tapestries were vivid, freed from their film of dust. The room’s three white central support pillars had been freshly painted.

“All right,” Han whispered. “You and Muuurgh get started and begin picking out the items you selected. I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes, okay?”

She nodded. “But what’ll I carry them in?”

“Last week I hid a knapsack behind the backsides of the
two sprites on the white jade fountain,” Han said, pointing to the huge artifact. “That’ll get you started. I’ll try to bring something else back with me if I see anything that’ll work.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

Muuurgh was some distance away, examining a collection of jeweled daggers. Bria hesitated, her expression anguished. Han put his hands on her shoulders. “What is it, honey?”

“Vykk … I’ve never done anything like this before!” She bit her lip and gestured at the blasters Muuurgh had brought. “Guns, and stealing! People could get
hurt
—even
killed
! You could get killed, or me!” She was shivering all over.

Han put his arms around her, pulled her to him. “Bria, we have to go tonight,” he said, though it was an effort to keep his voice gentle and hide his impatience. “Tomorrow they’re shipping Mrrov to the mines of Kessel. The ship’s probably going to arrive in orbit anytime now to take her away! It’s now or never, sweetheart.”

“And … and …” She was clinging to the front of his coverall with both hands. “I’m afraid of what will happen to me when I leave here. Without the Exultation … how can I live without it?”

“You’ll have me,” he reminded her. “We’ll be together. I’ll be with you … every minute. You’ll be okay …”

She gulped and nodded, but two tears ran down her cheeks. Han gave her an encouraging grin. “Hey …” he said. “I’m better than Ganar Tos, right?”

Bria managed a choked laugh, and then gave him a watery smile.

Han grabbed the blasters and headed out the door, making sure it was closed behind him, then down the corridor.

Carrying six guns in one’s arms, he discovered, wasn’t easy. He finally wound up shoving them into the front of his coverall and into his belt. They impeded his motion somewhat, but that was better than juggling them in his arms and fearing that one or more would fall to the floor with a crash.

The night was as dark as ever, but Han knew that dawn
couldn’t be more than an hour away now. He managed an awkward lope down the muddy path, blasters whacking into his legs and bouncing against his chest.

It took him nearly seven minutes to reach the first glitterstim factory, and another two to creep up close enough to the guard, a huge Gamorrean, to stun the alien at close range. Seeing the creature’s huge, porcine bulk, Han gave him an extra shot to keep him quiet for as long as this was going to take him.

Then he turned and walked into the factory, straight to the turbolift, the extra blasters nearly tripping him as he squeezed through the mesh door. Setting the turbolift for the bottom floor, he endured the ride down, down, into the night-black chill and the darkness beyond darkness.

When Han reached the bottom level, the one where Bria had worked, he turned right to where he’d caught a glimpse of the containers of raw glitterstim waiting to be apportioned to the workers.

Yanking the five blasters out of his belt (he kept the sixth as a spare, since he hadn’t known to make sure his own was fully charged for tonight’s escapade) Han arranged them atop the glitterstim in a tasteful “rayed sun” design. Then he quickly opened each one up and, peering through his goggles, set the powerful weapon to
OVERLOAD
. A thin whining filled the air, growing louder, echoing in the cavernous space, as more and more whines joined the first in the dank depths of the factory.

“That oughta do it,” Han whispered to himself, and knowing he had only minutes to get free before the whole place went
boom
, he bolted for the turbolift.