Abyss (39 page)

“Okay.”

Allana started to reach for her helmet microphone set, then quickly dropped her hand, even before Han could remind her that they were under comm silence. She closed her eyes, reached for Leia in the Force, and smiled as she felt her grandmother’s touch.

“You’d better go,” she said. “Grandma feels like she’s in a hurry.”

“What about Saba?” Han asked. “Did she feel like she was in position with those StealthXs?”

“I … 
think
so,” Allana said, twisting her lips in confusion. “She just feels kind of hungry.”

“Close enough.” Han commed the flight-control officer to let them know that the
Longshot
—the false transponder code under which the
Falcon
had been berthed at the spaceport—was ready to depart, then said, “Buckle up your crazy-cap.”

Allana rolled her eyes. “With you around, who needs a cap?”

Once the dome had retracted, he lifted the
Falcon
out of her berth, then tipped the nose up and pushed the throttles forward. With the inertial compensator not yet engaged, the acceleration pinned him back in his seat, and they shot through the opening into a bank of gray Coruscant smog. Allana squealed in delight while C-3PO sputtered in electronic surprise.

“Captain Solo, perhaps you should check your instruments,” he said. “You’re still accelerating, and we’re already traveling in excess of the legal velocity at this altitude.”

“I know, Goldenrod,” Han said. “We’ve got to make this look good.”

A moment later they emerged from the haze into the bustling expanse of Coruscant’s contrail-laced troposphere. Han activated the inertial compensator and pushed the throttles to the stops, climbing for space at maximum repulsorlift power. R2-D2 tweedled a report.

“Oh my,” C-3PO said. “Now you’ve drawn the attention of Galactic City Air Traffic Control. Artoo says they’re querying our transponder.”

“That’s why we’re called the bait, Threepio,” Allana explained to the droid. “We want them to chase
us
instead of Grandma.” She turned to Han. “Right?”

“Pretty close,” Han said. “But we’re actually pulling a Toydarian double-reverse spinner.”

Allana scowled as though Han had just pulled a spinner on her. “A toy
what
?”

“Toydarian double-reverse spinner,” Han explained, taking his eyes off the darkening sky just long enough to glance over at her. “Look, Daala’s pretty smart, right?”

Allana nodded. “Give the other guy credit,” she said, quoting one of Han’s favorite high-stakes credos. “If he’s good enough to be in the game, he’s good enough to take your credits.”

“Exactly,” Han said. “So, we gotta think Daala knows that
we
know she’ll be watching when we try to sneak our barvies off Coruscant.”

Allana looked down, using her fingers to keep track of Han’s points, then finally nodded. “Everyone knows. Got it.”

“Good. So we’re going to show her a little respect.”

Allana raised her brow. “We’re going to
bow
to her?”

“Not
that
kind of respect,” Han said, shaking his head. “We’re going to let her know that we think she’s pretty smart.”

Allana’s eyes widened, and she asked, “And you think that will make her careless?”

“A little bit,” Han confirmed. “Everybody likes to feel smart, so when you show them you think they
are
smart, they tend to take you at your word.”

“And taking our word is the same as taking our bait?”

“In this situation, yeah,” Han said. “When Daala sees us making a straight-up speed break, she’ll think we decided there’s no use trying to trick her. And then do you know what she’ll do?”

“Send everything she has to catch us?”

Han nodded. “That’s right,” he said. “And
that’s
when your grandmother will slip away in the
Gizer Gut
.”

“
After
I Force-touch her again.” Allana frowned, then added, “There’s only one thing wrong with your plan, Grandpa.”

Han gave her a patient smile. “And what’s that, sweetheart?”

“You’re trying to flatter Chief Daala,” Allana said. “And Mom says a
smart
woman
never
believes it when someone flatters her.”

Han felt his smile melt away. “Well,
this
isn’t really flattery,” he said, putting more confidence into his voice than he felt. “It’s more like just not treating her like she’s dumb.”

Allana’s brows dropped into a V. “You’re bluffing.”

“What? No way.” Han looked forward again, then sighed. “Okay, what’s my tell?”

“Your voice rose,” Allana said proudly. “Plus, well, I have the Force.”

Han rolled his eyes. “That blasted Force—it’s been getting me in trouble with women since I met your grandmother,” he said. “Anyway, don’t worry. I’m ninety percent sure this is going to work.”

“And when you’re flying with Captain Solo, those are very good odds indeed,” C-3PO offered from the communications station. “Even adjusting for his usual exaggeration, that gives us a sixty-seven percent chance of success.”

Before Han could turn to bark at the droid, Allana said, “Oh, I’m not worried, Grandpa—as long as we have a backup plan.”

Han thought he might have been developing some Force sensitivity himself, because even though he was still looking out at the stars popping into view as they departed the atmosphere, he could feel her staring at him.

“We
do
have a backup plan,” Allana said. “Right?”

He switched to the ion drives, then, as the
Falcon
kicked over to the more powerful engines, pulled the throttles back and said, “Sure we do.”

“Good.” Allana was silent for a moment, then asked, “What is it?”

Han shrugged. “Hard to say. Your grandmother is in charge of backup plans.”

Before Allana could press the matter further, the no-nonsense voice of an orbital control officer sounded over the flight deck speaker. “Light freighter
Longshot
, you’ve just broken every procedure in the manual for departing Coruscant. Please proceed to impound station Trill Aurek Papa for inspection.”

“Oh my—
those
orders are certainly going to interfere with our duties,” C-3PO said. “Perhaps if I apologize—”

“Don’t even think about it, Codejob.” Han smiled and winked at Allana, then added, “This game is just getting started.”

He activated the tactical display and winced—as he always did—at the dense field of yellow
FIXED FACILITY
designators that immediately popped into view. There were so many stations, platforms, and habitats floating around Coruscant’s satellite shell that piloting a starship through the orbital layers was only slightly less nerve-racking than navigating a speeder across the Big Snarl at the height of Crash Hour.

An instant later vessel transponder codes began to appear between the facility designators, all in “friendly blue” since the
Falcon
was not involved in an armed conflict with anyone. Without a control ship to coordinate and pass along a constant stream of situation reports, R2-D2 could only access the data from the
Falcon’
s own sensor arrays, which made the tactical picture necessarily incomplete. But the display already showed dozens of civilian codes scrambling to clear the area, and Han spotted a new
Nargi
-class pursuit frigate moving to cut off the
Falcon’
s escape route.

A new voice, this one sharper and more insistent, came over the comm speakers. “Light freighter
Longshot
, this is the Galactic Alliance pursuit frigate
Fast Death
. Respond immediately, or we
will
take measures to ensure that you do.”

Han ignored the challenge and continued to climb. A massive KDY orbital defense platform flashed past to port as the
Falcon
entered the planet’s satellite shell. Han studied the display until he found a huge wheel station orbiting nearby, then swung onto a course that put the facility between him and the
Fast Death
.

The voice returned. “
Longshot
, your evasive action has been noted. We are now declaring you a
suspect vessel in flight
. If you continue on this course, we
will
apprehend you forcibly.”

“Then stop talking about it and
do
something,” Han groused.

The
Fast Death
vanished from the display as the huge wheel station drifted into a direct line between the
Falcon
and the frigate. Han queried the designator code. To his delight, the station was listed as PharmCom Orbital Processing Plant One. Pharmaceutical production facilities were usually several kilometers across, more than large enough for his purposes. All he had to do was hide behind the station until the
Fast Death
came around one side looking for him, then he’d blow ions out the other.

Unfortunately, the
Fast Death
’s skipper had a better idea. As the processing plant began to swell in the
Falcon’
s forward canopy—a huge durasteel web of white rings held together by dozens of glittering yellow spokes—R2-D2 let out a series of contact tweedles. Han turned his attention back to the tactical display. Swarming past the station’s rim were a dozen XJ5 ChaseX starfighters. And they were probably all equipped with the latest in ship-disabling System Burner ion torpedoes.

“Blast and double blast!” Han growled. “He’s not falling for it.”

“Uh-oh,” Allana said. “Does that mean I should ask Grandma for the backup plan?”

Han shook his head. “Not yet, sweetie. We still have a few tricks up our sleeves.”

Han rolled the
Falcon
into a wingover, and suddenly it was not the wheel station swelling in front of them, but the hazy yellow disk of Coruscant’s day side.

“That’s trick number one,” Han said. “Now, why don’t you pick out a new transponder name for us?”

“Any name I want?”

“As long as it’s on the list,” Han said.

“Affirmative, Grandpa.” Allana began to scroll through the possibilities, her little boots kicking the air in excitement, then she announced, “Got it!”

“Go ahead and send it to Artoo,” Han said, swinging toward the gleaming canister of a luxury habitat complex. “And tell him to switch over in three, two …”

The habitat’s apparent size swelled up so quickly that even Han thought he might crash into it. The facility’s automated shielding system began to broadcast an emergency message, warning him to decelerate or change course. He did neither. When they were close enough to see startled faces staring out the viewports, he pushed the yoke down and dived underneath the habitat.

An instant later Han pulled back up on the other side of the station and finished the count, “… one.”

R2-D2 gave an acknowledging tweedle. By then, the planet itself was coming up so fast that Han had no time to check the display to see the
Falcon’
s new name. He rolled the upper hull toward the ChaseXs and began to flee toward the far side of the planet.

When Han did check the tactical display, his heart fell. The ChaseXs were still hot on his tail, and closing quick. But the
Fast Death
remained on station, hanging back with no apparent concern about keeping the
Falcon
in tractor beam range.

“Bloah!” He slammed a palm against the yoke. “They’ve got another one.”

“Another what?” Allana’s voice was small and frightened.

Han immediately regretted his outburst, and explained in a gentler voice, “Another frigate, kiddo. That’s why the
Fast Death
isn’t following us.”

“
Now
is it time to ask Grandma about the backup plan?”

Han had to bite back an irritated reply. “Not yet, sweetie. Grandpa just needs to raise the stakes, that’s all.”

Allana’s eyes grew curious, but before she could ask Han to explain, a scratchy new voice came over the cockpit speaker. “You’re not fooling anyone,
Star Princess
. We know who you are.”

Han grimaced and glanced over at Allana. “You picked
Star Princess
?”

“You said to pick any name I wanted,” she reminded him. “And
Star Princess
is pretty.”

“I think it’s a very wise choice, Mistress Allana,” C-3PO said. “Statistical analysis shows that the planetary patrols are thirty-four percent less likely to open fire on vessels with endearing names.”

Allana shot Han a triumphant smile, but before she could gloat, the scratchy voice began to threaten them from the comm speaker again.

“This is your last warning,
Star Princess
 … or whatever you want to call yourself—Captain Solo.”

R2-D2 gave a warning whistle, and the
Falcon’
s lock alarms suddenly shrieked to life.

“Heave to,” the voice ordered, “or that tub won’t have a working circuit left.”

“The savage!” C-3PO gasped. “I don’t think we have any choice, Captain Solo. If you don’t do as he orders, Artoo and I will be—”

“Not happening in
this
lifetime, Threepio.” Han glanced over at Allana. “Do you think you can still find Saba in the Force, or should I have Wilyem—”

“I’m the copilot!” Allana informed him. “I can find her.”

“Then do it.” Han turned his attention back to the tactical display. The second frigate had shown up dead ahead—and the ChaseXs were driving them right toward it. “And tell Saba sooner is better.”

Allana frowned. “I can’t
tell
her anything, Grandpa. The Force isn’t a comlink.” She closed her eyes and began to concentrate. “After living with Grandma so long, you really should know that by now.”

Han smiled. “You’d think.” He activated his intercom microphone, then said, “Dordi, Zal, time to bluff. Bring up your guns and targeting computers.”

“Can we shoot?” Zal asked—or maybe it was Dordi—Han couldn’t tell.

“No, you can’t shoot!” Han snapped. “What are you, crazy? I’ve got Amelia on board!”

“So
she
getz to do all the shooting?” Dordi—or maybe it was Zal—asked.

“
Nobody
gets to shoot,” Han retorted. “Well, except Wilyem. But not until I say so … and you
can’t
hit anything. Clear?”