Star Wars: The Han Solo Trilogy I: The Paradise Snare (6 page)

Once they were back in realspace, Han painstakingly computed a new course, using the R2 unit to perform the more esoteric calculations for the jump that would send them back into hyperspace.

It took the young Corellian a while to lay in their new course and speed, but finally Han triggered the
HYPERDRIVE ENGAGE
switch again. A second later he felt the lurch as the drive kicked in. Han clung grimly to the instrument panel as the ship hurtled into hyperspace on its new course, at a greatly increased rate of speed.

As the ship steadied around him, Han drew a long, long breath and let it out very slowly. He slumped to the deck and sat there, his legs stuck out before him.
Whew!

“You realize, sir,” said the R2 unit, “that you will now have to land this craft manually. Altering our course and speed has invalidated the existing landing protocols programmed into the ship.”

“Yeah, I know,” Han said, leaning wearily back against the console. He took another sip of water and then ate two tablets. “But there’s no other way. I just hope I can work the controls fast enough to land us.” He glanced around him at the nearly featureless control room. “I wish this bucket of bolts came with a viewscreen.”

“An autopilot cannot see, sir, so visual data is useless to it,” the R2 unit pointed out helpfully.

“No!” Han said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I thought droids could see just like we can!”

“No, sir, we cannot,” R2 told him. “We recognize our
surroundings by visual relays that translate into electronic data within our—”

“Shut up,” Han said, too tired even to enjoy baiting the droid.

Leaning back against the console, he closed his eyes. He’d done all that he could to save his life, by bringing the ship to Ylesia on a much more direct route, at a faster speed.

Han drifted into sleep and dreamed of Dewlanna, as she had been long ago, when they’d first known each other …

Han was halfway through the window when he heard the shout behind him. “We’ve been robbed!
”

Clutching his small sack of loot, he kicked, wriggling, trying to squeeze through the narrow enclosure. In the dark outside lay safety. A feminine cry of dismay: “My jewelry!
”

Han grunted with effort, realizing he was stuck. He fought back panic. He had to get away! This was a rich house, and when someone summoned the authorities, they were certain to come immediately
.

Silently he cursed the new vogue in Corellian architecture that had caused this luxurious home to be built with floor-to-ceiling narrow windows. The windows were advertised as being able to thwart burglars. Well, there might be some truth to that, he decided grimly. He’d sneaked in earlier through one of the doors that led to the gardens, then hidden out until he’d felt safe in believing that all the inhabitants were asleep. Then he’d ventured out to pick and choose among their treasures. He’d been confident that he could wiggle his skinny, nine-year-old self through those windows and make good his escape
.

Han grunted with effort again, kicking frantically. It was possible he was wrong about that …

A voice behind him. The woman. “There he is! Get him!
”

Han turned a little more sideways, wriggled violently, and then suddenly he was through the window and falling. He didn’t let go of his sack, though, as he crashed down onto the manicured bed of flowering dorva vines. Breath whooshed out of his lungs, and for a moment he just lay
there, gasping, like a drel out of water. His leg hurt, and so did his head
.

“
Call the security patrol!” The masculine shout came from inside. Han knew he had only seconds to make good his escape. Forcing his leg to bear his weight, he rolled over and staggered to his feet
.

Trees ahead in the moonslight … big ones. He could lose himself in them, easy
.

Han half limped, half ran to the shelter of the trees. He resolved not to let Eight-Gee-Enn know what had happened. The droid might accuse him of slowing down now that he was going on ten
.

Han grimaced as he ran. He wasn’t slowing down, he just hadn’t been feeling well today. He’d had a dull headache ever since he’d awakened, and had been tempted to turn himself in on sick call
.

Since Han was almost never ill, he’d probably have been believed, but he didn’t like showing weakness in front of other denizens of
Trader’s Luck.
Especially Captain Shrike. The man never missed an opportunity to ride him
.

He was in the shelter of the trees, now. What next? He could hear the sound of running footsteps, so he didn’t have much time to decide. His muscles made that decision for him. Suddenly the sack was clenched in his teeth, there was bark against his palms, and the soles of his beat-up boots were braced against branches. Han climbed, listened, then climbed again
.

Only when he was high in the tree, above the range of a casual glance by pursuers, did he slow down. Han settled back on a limb, against the tree trunk, panting, his head whirling. He felt dizzy, nauseated, and for a moment he was afraid he’d be sick and give himself away. But he bit his lip and forced himself to stay still, and presently he felt a little better
.

Judging from the star patterns, it was only a few hours until dawn. Han realized that he was going to have trouble making the rendezvous with the
Luck’s
shuttle. Would Shrike just abandon him, or would he wait?

Far below him, people were searching the wooded area
.
Lights strobed the night, and he huddled close to the tree trunk, eyes closed, clinging desperately despite his dizziness. If only his head didn’t throb so …

Han wondered whether they’d bring in bioscanners, and shivered. His skin felt hot and tight, even though the night was cool and breezy
.

Dark waned on toward dawn. Han wondered what Dewlanna was doing, whether she’d miss him if the
Luck
left orbit without him
.

Finally, the lights went out, and the footsteps faded away. Han waited another twenty minutes to make sure his pursuers were truly gone, then, holding the sack gripped in his teeth, he carefully climbed down, moving with exaggerated care because his head hurt so much. Every jar, even walking, made his head swim, and he had to grit his teeth against the pain
.

He walked … and walked. Several times he realized he’d been dozing while he walked, and a couple of times he fell down and was tempted to just stay there. But something kept him moving, as dawn brightened the streets and houses around him. Corellian dawns were beautiful, Han noticed dazedly. He’d never before noticed how pretty the colors were in the sky. If only the light didn’t hurt his eyes so …

Dawn turned to day. Cool gave way to warmth, then heat. He was sweating, and his vision was blurred. But finally, there it was. The spaceport. By this time Han was moving like an automaton, one foot in front of the other, wishing he could just lie down and sleep in the road
.

Before him, now … the
Luck’s
shuttle! With a gasp that was nearly a sob, the boy drove himself forward. He was almost to the ramp when a tall figure emerged. Shrike
.

“
Where in the blazes have you
been?”
There was nothing friendly in the captain’s grasp upon his arm. Han held up the sack, and Shrike grabbed it. “Well, at least you didn’t come back empty-handed,” the captain grumbled
.

Quickly he sifted through the contents, nodding his satisfaction. Only when he was finished did Shrike seem to notice that Han was swaying on his feet. “What’s wrong with you?
”

Now beyond coherent speech, Han could only shake his head. Consciousness was fading in and out on him like a jammed transmission
.

Shrike shook him a little, then put a hand on the boy’s forehead. When he felt the heat, he cursed. “Fever … should I leave you here? What if it’s contagious?” He frowned, clearly struggling to decide. Finally he hefted the sack of loot again. “Guess you’ve earned a sick day, kid,” he muttered. “C’mon
.”

Han tried to make it up the ramp, but then he stumbled and everything went dark …

He swam up into partial consciousness a long time later, to the sound of voices arguing, one in Wookiee, the other in Basic. Dewlanna and Shrike
.

The Wookiee growled insistently. “I can tell he’s really sick,” Shrike agreed, “but you can’t kill one of my kids with a blaster set on full. He’ll be okay after a couple of days rest. He doesn’t need a medical droid, and I’m not springing for it
.”

Dewlanna snarled, and Han, automatically translating, was surprised at how insistent the Wookiee was being. He felt a furred paw-hand lay something cold on his forehead. It felt wonderful against the heat
.

“
I told you no, Dewlanna, and I meant it!” Shrike said, and with that, the captain stomped out, cursing the Wookiee in every language he knew
.

Han opened his eyes to see Dewlanna bending over him. The Wookiee rumbled gently at him. Han struggled to speak. “Pretty bad …” he conceded, in response to her question. “Thirsty …
”

Dewlanna held him up and gave him water, sip by slow sip. She told him that he had a high fever, so high that she was afraid for him
.

When Han finished the water, she stooped down and scooped the child up into her arms. “Where … where’re we …
”

She told him to hush, that she was taking him planetside, to the medical droid. Han’s head was swimming, but he
made a great effort. “Don’t … Captain Shrike … really mad …
”

Her answer was short and to the point. Han had never heard her curse before
.

He faded in and out as they moved through the corridors, and his next clear memory was of being strapped into the seat of a shuttle. Han had never known Dewlanna could pilot, but she handled the controls competently with her huge, furred hands. The shuttle slipped loose from its moorings, and then accelerated toward Corellia
.

The fever was making Han light-headed, and he kept imagining that he heard Shrike’s voice, cursing. He tried to say something about it to Dewlanna, but found he didn’t have the strength to get the words out …

He next regained consciousness in the medical droid’s waiting room. Dewlanna was sitting down, with Han’s scrawny form still clutched protectively in her arms
.

Suddenly a door opened, and the droid appeared. It was a large, elongated droid, equipped with anti-grav units so that it floated around its patient as Dewlanna placed Han on the examining table. Han felt a prick against his skin as the droid took a blood sample
.

“
Do you understand Basic, madame?” inquired the droid
.

For a moment Han was about to answer that of course he understood Basic, and who was Madame?—but then Dewlanna rumbled. Oh, of course. The medical unit was talking to her
.

“
This young patient has contracted Corellian tanamen fever,” the droid told Dewlanna. “His case is quite severe. It is fortunate that you did not wait any longer to bring him to me. I will need to keep him here and observe him until tomorrow. Do you wish to stay with him?
”

Dewlanna rumbled her assent
.

“
Very well, madame. I am going to use bacta immersion therapy to restore his metabolic equilibrium. That will also bring his fever down
.”

Han took one look at the waiting bacta tank and feebly tried to make a run for the door. Between them, Dewlanna
and the medical unit restrained him easily. The boy felt another needle prick his arm, and then the whole universe tilted sideways and slid into blackness …

Han opened his eyes, realizing his reverie had turned into sleep, then dreams. He shook his head, remembering how wobbly he’d been when Dewlanna and the droid helped him out of the bacta tank. Then Dewlanna paid the droid out of her own small store of credits and piloted them back to
Trader’s Luck
.

The young pilot grimaced. Boy, Shrike had been mad. Han was worried that he’d space them both. But Dewlanna never showed even the slightest sign of fear as she stood between the captain and Han, insisting that she’d done the right thing, that otherwise the boy would have died.

In the end, Shrike subsided because one of the pieces of jewelry Han had stolen that night turned out to be set with a genuine Krayt dragon pearl. When the captain discovered what it was worth, he was mollified.

But he didn’t pay Dewlanna back for Han’s medical bills …

Han sighed and closed his eyes. Dewlanna’s loss was like a knife wound—no matter how he tried, he couldn’t get away from the pain, and the memories. He’d let down his guard and suddenly find himself thinking of her as still alive, visualize himself talking to her, telling her about his troubles with the recalcitrant R2 unit—only to be brought up short with pain nearly as searing and immediate as he’d felt yesterday when he’d held her dying body.

Han swallowed another sip of water, trying to ease the tightness in his throat. He owed Dewlanna … owed her so much. His life—even his true identity—he owed Dewlanna for that, too …

Han sighed. Until he was eleven years old, his only name had been “Han.” The boy often wondered and worried about whether he had a last name. One time he mentioned his concern to Dewlanna, along with his conviction that if anyone knew who he really was, it was Shrike.

Very soon after that, Dewlanna learned to play sabacc …

Han heard the soft scratch on the door to his tiny cubicle and woke instantly. Listening, he heard the scratch again, then a soft whine. “Dewlanna?” he whispered, sliding out of bed and sticking his bare feet into his ship’s coveralls. “Is that you?
”

She rumbled softly from outside the door. Han yanked up his jumpsuit, sealed it, and opened the door. “What do you mean, you have exciting news for me?
”