Shadows of the Empire (7 page)

He saw Jabba get it.

“A minor smuggler,” Jabba offered. “He has had his uses in the past, but he joined the Alliance and does owe me money.”

“Some refreshment, Jabba?”

“Thank you. Something crunchy?”

Xizor waved a hand and a serving droid appeared almost instantly, bearing a tray of insectoids and some vile liquid Hutts were known to favor.

“Ah, thank you, Highness.” He picked up one of the wiggling things and ate it.

Xizor leaned forward, as if to convey a sense of closeness. “I have had some dealings with Vader myself of late,” he said. “Your presence here is most important, Jabba; information, even the smallest details about the Dark Lord of the Sith, will be most helpful to me in my present situation. This deal with Boba Fett, has it been finalized yet?”

“Not yet, my prince. I am awaiting delivery of Captain Solo.”

As if remembering a small and insignificant fact, Xizor said, “Hmm. Wasn’t this Solo part of a Rebel force that attacked the Death Star?”

“Yes, Highness. He and his friends were instrumental in its destruction. The Wookiee Chewbacca, Princess Leia Organa, and a young unknown player by the name of Skywalker, all were involved in the debacle.”

“Skywalker?”

Jabba laughed, a deep rumble that echoed from his huge bulk. “Yes, he thinks he is a Jedi Knight, so I understand,” he said when he’d finished laughing. “He was until recently on Tatooine.”

“Where is he now?”

“Who knows? He took his X-wing offplanet only a short time ago.”

Xizor leaned back. “Hmm. It probably means nothing, but perhaps these things will be of use to me. If any of these people return to Tatooine, I would greatly appreciate knowing it.”

“Certainly, Prince Xizor.”

Xizor nodded. He was essentially done, but he continued to carry on a conversation with the Hutt, pretended that Jabba’s opinion was worthwhile and that
he needed to hear it. He let it run for another ten minutes, asked a few questions about Imperial troop movements and naval deployment so that Jabba would think that was the reason he’d been summoned. When he had done what he thought was enough of it, Xizor smiled. “Old friend, this information is most confidential,” he said. “It must remain between us. Your cooperation will be suitably … appreciated.”

The Hutt mirrored Xizor’s smile. Sometimes the touch of a soft word was more powerful than the impact of a hard staff. Jabba was not stupid, and he knew what happened to anyone who crossed the Dark Prince. But—let Jabba think instead he was privy to some vital bit of business, some twisted plot, that he was a trusted confidant. It would do the Hutt’s reputation no harm if his underlings and enemies thought he had the ear of the leader of Black Sun. Fear was good; fear and greed were better.

Xizor nodded and took his leave.

His spies had learned that Darth Vader had turned Solo, a small-time smuggler and sometime Alliance pilot, over to the notorious bounty hunter Boba Fett on Bespin. Sooner or later, Fett would show up on Tatooine to deliver Solo and collect his credits. But Xizor’s spies indicated that Fett’s ship,
Slave I
, was not on Tatooine. And so far those spies had not been able to locate the bounty hunter.

Well. It was a large galaxy, and such searches took time.

But he was willing to bet that Skywalker knew about the bounty on his friend and had returned to Tatooine to wait for Fett to show up. That he had left could indicate a lot of things. Perhaps he had gotten tired of waiting, though Xizor did not think that likely. Or perhaps he had pressing business unconnected to Solo. Or perhaps he had, through the Alliance, discovered where his friend was. That was possible, given
that the Alliance’s contacts were fairly extensive and included much of the famed Bothan spynet.

Well. There was nothing to be done about it, if that was the case. But he could increase his agents’ chances of finding Skywalker.

He reached his sanctum and called Guri. She glided in silently.

“Put out the information that those seeking to claim the reward for Skywalker would be advised to locate the bounty hunter Boba Fett. Sooner or later, Skywalker will likely do so, and appropriate plans can be made for that instance.”

Guri nodded, not speaking.

Xizor smiled.

L
eia sat in the
Millennium Falcon’s
lounge, watching Chewie and Threepio play on the hologame board. Lando was in the galley making something that smelled awful for their dinner. Luke sat next to Leia, cleaning the lenses on Artoo’s electrophoto receptors. Luke’s X-wing was locked onto the
Falcon’s
hull—the trip was possible in the fighter, but it was also a long jump to make without sleeping or eating or using the ’fresher.

The
Falcon
hummed along through hyperspace on autopilot, running much better than it had any right to, looking as it did. The first time Leia had seen the Corellian freighter she’d almost laughed. The ship appeared to have been rescued from a scrap pile. But while it had a few glitches, it was obvious the craft had been heavily modified to fly faster and shoot harder than the Corellian designers had ever intended. Lando had owned the ship once, until he lost it to Han in a sabacc game.

Han—

No, don’t think about him now
.

Chewie said something that sounded angry and impolite.

Threepio said, “Well, I’m sorry, but it was a fair move. It’s not my fault you didn’t see it.”

Chewie said something else.

“No. I’m not going to take it back. And don’t threaten me. If you pull my arm off, I won’t play with you anymore.”

Chewie muttered something, then leaned back on his seat and looked at the game board.

Leia smiled. Like a couple of small children, the Wookiee and the protocol droid.

She turned and watched Luke as he cleared the micrometeor dust from Artoo. Luke wanted to rescue Han as much as she did. Which was interesting, given that she’d felt the competition from them for her attention. A lesser man than Luke might take advantage of a rival’s absence, but so far he had not. That was the thing about Luke. He wanted to win, but he wanted to win fairly.

Lando came into the lounge bearing a tray with several steaming plates and bowls upon it.

“Dinner is served,” Lando said. He smiled. “Giju stew.”

They all glanced at him, then went back to what they were doing.

“Don’t everybody rush in at once,” Lando said. His smile faded.

To Leia, the stuff on the tray looked like a cross between melted boot plastic and fertilizer, with a sprinkling of pond scum over it. Stank like she imagined that combination would smell, too.

“Come on, I spent an hour in the galley fixing this. Everybody dig in!”

Chewie said something that didn’t sound particularly complimentary.

“Hey, pal, you don’t like it, you cook next time.”

Luke looked up from his work on Artoo, made an oh-yuck face. “Giju stew?” he said. “It looks like old
boot plastic and fertilizer drenched in pond scum. Smells like it, too—”

Leia chuckled.

“Fine, fine!” Lando said. He put the tray down in the middle of the hologame board. The tiny game figures suddenly seemed to be buried to their hips or chests in the steaming goo. “Don’t eat it, that’ll just mean more for me.”

Lando snatched up one of the bowls and dipped a spoon into it, shoved the spoon into his mouth. “See?” he said around the mouthful of stew. “It tastes great, it—” He stopped talking. The expression on his face went from irritated to amazed, slid to horror, then right into disgust.

He forced himself to swallow. Then he blew a quick breath and shook his head. “Oh, man. Maybe I did use a little too much Boontaspice,” he offered. “Maybe I’ll just open a couple of packets of beans for dinner.”

Luke and Leia laughed at the same instant. Looked at each other.

There were worse places she could be than with her friends, Leia decided.

A lot worse places.

W
hen the
Millennium Falcon
broke from hyperspace in the vicinity of the gas giant Zhar, Luke used one of the vacuum suits to transfer to his X-wing for the rest of the trip. Lando and Leia would have preferred that they all stay together, but if any trouble showed up, better there were two armed ships to meet it than one, Luke argued. They saw his point.

After he and Artoo were in the fighter, Luke felt a lot better. Yeah, Lando was a good pilot, but Luke trusted his own skills more. Not that he was necessarily a better flier—though he was pretty sure he was—but at least he didn’t have to sit and watch. The vac-suit made things a little tight, though.

He kept the little ship close to the
Falcon
as they entered the system. What was Boba Fett doing this far out on the Rim? It didn’t seem to be on the way to anywhere.

He saw the blips on his scope about the time he got the call over his comm.

“Hey, Luke! Welcome to the end of the galaxy.”

“Hey, Wedge! How’s it going, buddy?”

“So-so. Another day, another credit—before taxes, of course.”

Luke smiled. Wedge Antilles had been one of the Alliance pilots who survived the attack on the Death Star. He could fly, and he was braver than he had any right to be. Good old Wedge.

Here they came. A dozen ships like his own.

“Good to see you again, Luke. I hope you’ve got something interesting cooked up for us; things have been a little slow lately.”

“Well, if you want to talk about bad cooking, you’ll need to speak to Lando—”

“I heard that,” Lando said over the comm.

Luke grinned at the
Falcon
where it flew on his port side.

“Just a joke, Lando.”

“Hey, Calrissian, long time. I figured you’d be in jail by now.”

“Not yet, Antilles, not yet.”

“Follow us, Luke,” Wedge said, “we’ve got camp set up on a little moon called Kile in the planet shadow opposite Gall. We’ve fixed it up real nice, got air, gravity, water, all the comforts of home.”

“Lead on,” Luke said. “We’re right behind you.”

“Y
ou call this ‘real nice’?” Leia said as she looked around at the interior of the cast-plast prefab building Rogue Squadron had set up as a base. It was basically four walls and a roof and looked like a cross between a warehouse and a hangar, with exposed plastic beams and not much else. It was cold, and it smelled like burned rock. “I’d hate to see a place you thought was not real nice.”

Wedge smiled. “Well, you know the Rogues. All we need is a ship and rock to land it on.”

“You got that second part right.”

Wedge led them to a corner of the chilly building where a table and a holoproj unit had been set up. A man sat sprawled in one of the one-piece cast-plast chairs, looking as if he were asleep.

He didn’t really look anything like Han—he had red hair and pale skin—but something about the way he sat …

He might have been asleep, but his eyes flicked open fast and he looked awake by the time they got there.

He was tall, lean, had green eyes. He wore freighter togs, a gray coverall, and a holstered blaster slung low on his hip. He looked to be about Han’s age, Leia figured, and he had that same lazy, insolent look about him. He came to his feet and made a low, sweeping, theatrical bow.

“Princess Leia,” he said. “How delightful of you to visit us here in our humble castle, Your Highness.” He waved at the big empty room and grinned.

Leia shook her head. Could Han have a long-lost brother? Did these guys take lessons in how to speak smartmouth?

Lando said, “This is Dash Rendar, thief, card cheat, smuggler, and an okay pilot.”

Dash’s grin increased. “What do you mean, ‘okay pilot,’ Calrissian? I can fly rings around you in a one-winged hopper with a plugged jet.”

“And modest, too,” Leia said.

Dash bowed low. “I see that the princess has a keen eye to go with her stunning beauty.”

Oh, brother
, Leia thought.
This
guy was going to lead them to Boba Fett?

“Bottle the serpent oil, Dash,” Lando said. “Let’s take care of business.”

“First good idea you’ve had in years, Lando,” Dash said.

Lando made introductions. “So you know who Princess
Leia is, and you know Chewie. This is Luke Skywalker.”

Luke stepped forward, and the two men nodded at each other.

“Have we met? You look familiar.”

“You might have seen me on Hoth,” Dash said. “I was delivering a shipment of food stores when the shield went up. I flew a snowspeeder during the battle while waiting my turn to leave.”

Luke nodded. “That’s right. You took down one of the Imperial walkers, I remember now. You were pretty good.”

Dash flashed the bright smile again. “Pretty good? I
slept
through most of that battle, kid. I could have stayed and knocked those walkers over all day without raising my heartbeat, if I hadn’t had an appointment to pick up paying cargo elsewhere.”

Leia shook her head. What was it with men? It was a wonder they didn’t knock themselves down, patting themselves on the back so hard. Did she really need to get involved with another hotshot braggart?

Well, yes. If he could take them to where Han was being held prisoner, she could stand it.

Wedge said, “We’ve done a little recon work, couple of flybys. Let me show you the layout.” He moved to the holoprojector controls.

L
uke watched as Wedge began showing them the holographic maps and recorded images of the moon where Boba Fett’s ship was supposed to be docked.
If
they could believe this Dash Rendar. He was pretty good at shining his own light, that was for sure, and yeah, he had done okay during the fight on Hoth, but Luke wasn’t so sure about this guy.

Still, Lando seemed to think they could trust Dash’s judgment, as long as he was well paid.

Luke had to smile at that. Han had seemed like
nothing more than a mercenary smuggler when they’d first met, and pretty quick to let people know what a terrific pilot he was, too. It wasn’t until later that Luke realized that was just a public mask, a facade behind which Han hid so nobody would know how much he really cared. Maybe there was more to Dash Rendar than met the eye, too.