Star Wars: Scoundrels (54 page)

He did a quick mental calculation. If he kept back enough to pay off his debt to Jabba … “Let me sweeten the pot a little,” he offered. “I’ll buy out your shares of the blackmail files for eighteen five each. That’ll bring you all up to an even hundred grand.”

Chewbacca rumbled a question.

“Well, yeah, I’m dipping into your share,” Han confirmed. “How else did you think I was going to get to eighteen five each?”

“So first Lando wants the cards, and now you want them?” Zerba asked suspiciously. “Is there something you’re not telling the rest of us?”

“Not really,” Han said. “I just figured you could all use the extra credits. And it’s not like Chewie and me are going anywhere.”

“You could pay off your debt to Jabba,” Bink pointed out.

“We’ll have enough left to do that,” Han assured her.

“Actually—” Rachele broke off. “Never mind.”

“So is it a deal?” Han asked.

The others looked at each other. “Fine with me,” Kell said.

“Me too,” Dozer seconded.

“Sure, why not?” Zerba growled. “It’s not like I can use them in my act or anything.”

“Okay,” Han said. “Leave your contact info with Rachele and she’ll send you your splits after she gets the tabs sliced.”

“And we never talk about this again,” Rachele added. “To anyone.”

“No problem,” Kell said. “For starters, who’d believe us?”

“Only the people who’d kill us for having done it,” Zerba said, standing up. “Well. So long, everyone. Happy flights.”

“It was great not meeting like this,” Tavia said wryly.

“For whatever it’s worth, Han, it’s been fun,” Bink said as she also stood up. “Call us next time you’ve got a job.”

Five minutes and a round of farewells later, all of them except Chewbacca, Rachele, and Winter had left. “Did you want something?” Han asked Winter.

“In a minute,” Winter said. “First I’d like to hear what Rachele was starting to say earlier.”

Chewbacca growled agreement.

“That makes it unanimous, Rachele,” Han said. “Go ahead.”

Rachele sighed. “It was something I picked up on the back channel earlier,” she said. “Before we found out about Eanjer.” She took a deep breath. “Jabba’s raised your debt marker, Han. Raised it to half a million.”

Han stared at her. “Half a
million
?”

“He’s blaming you for Black Sun finding out about Morg Nar on Bespin,” Rachele said miserably. “I’m so sorry. I figured it wouldn’t really matter, since you were about to pull in almost fifteen million, and I didn’t want to ruin the moment for you. But then we found out about Eanjer, and …” She trailed off.

“It’s okay,” Han said, feeling the weight of the entire universe crashing down on him. He hadn’t expected word about Nar to get back to Jabba so fast. Even if it had, he wouldn’t have figured Jabba would be able to pin it on him. He certainly wouldn’t have expected Jabba to take the loss of his Bespin operation personally.

So instead of getting Jabba off his back for good, he was in even deeper.

Chewbacca grunted.

“Yeah, maybe,” Han agreed doubtfully. “But he sure isn’t going to cool down for a while. That Bespin operation wasn’t bringing in much, but for some reason he really liked it.”

“If you need somewhere to stay, I’m sure I can find you a place,” Rachele offered.

“Or,” Winter said quietly, “you could go back to your other friends.” Han frowned. “What other friends?”

“The people you work with,” Winter said. “The people I assume you’re going to give the blackmail files to.” She raised her eyebrows slightly. “The people who just might be able to track down another cryodex.”

Han shot a look at Chewbacca. How in space had she been able to figure
that
out? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,” Winter said. “You see, I work procurement for them … and that escape pod you fired into the factory was part of a lot I smuggled to them seven months ago.”

“Of course it was,” Han said in disgust. He should never, ever have let Her Worshipfulness talk him into letting her replace the escape pods he’d dumped during that Death Star thing. “Look, I didn’t steal them, if that’s what you think. She insisted we take them.”

It was as if someone had flipped on a searchlight behind Winter’s eyes.
“She?”
she echoed, abruptly sitting straighter in her chair. “Which
she
are we talking about?”

Han stared at her, that bitter-edged confession she’d made suddenly coming back to mind.
I was connected with the royal palace on Alderaan …
“The Princess,” he said. “Leia.”

“You’ve seen her?” Winter asked, her voice shaking a little. “Since Alderaan, I mean?”

“Sure,” he said. “In fact, I was with her at Yavin, where the—” He shot a look at Rachele.

“It’s okay,” Rachele said. “We know about Yavin and the Death Star.”

“She got away from there just fine,” Han said. “Far as I know, she’s still fine.”
And stuck-up and insufferable
, he thought about adding. Still, if Winter knew the Princess, she probably already knew all that.

“Thank you,” Winter said quietly. “I’ve been … we hadn’t heard the details.”

“Well, you’ll have to get the rest from someone else,” Han said, standing up. “If Jabba’s jumped my debt, he’s probably jumped the bounty, too. We need to find someplace to lie low for a while.”

“Leia will take you in,” Winter promised.

“We’ll see.” Han eyed her. “By the way, that thing about never mentioning this to anyone? That goes double for Her Highness.”

Winter smiled. “Absolutely,” she promised. “Take care, Han.”

“He will,” Rachele said with a smile of her own. “He always does.”

They were back in the
Falcon
and waiting for their lift slot when Chewbacca finally asked the obvious question.

“I don’t know yet,” Han said. “We’ll go back when it’s time, I guess.”

Chewbacca considered, then rumbled again.

“Of course she likes me,” Han said dryly. “Doesn’t everybody?”

“Master?” the protocol droid called hesitantly from the doorway. “It’s time.”

“Time for what?” Eanjer asked, focusing on the mirror in front of him as he eased the last of the medseal strips off his face.

“His High Exaltedness awaits your presence,” the droid said, sounding even more nervous than usual.

Not surprising, really. “Tell His Exaltedness I’ll be there when I’m ready.”

“Yes, sir.” The droid hesitated. “If it’s all the same to you, sir, I’d rather wait here until you’re ready.”

“Fine,” Eanjer said. “Suit yourself.”

Gently he prodded his cheek where the medseal had covered it. He hadn’t realized what three weeks of being wrapped up like that would do to the skin. It was red and puffy, was mottled in places, and itched like deep-core chaos. His right hand and arm looked nearly as bad.

Still, the symptoms were temporary. They would fade away soon.

What wouldn’t fade so quickly was the annoyance of a job only half done.

Any group of thieves or mercenaries could have gotten him into Villachor’s mansion and over, around, or through all the guards while still leaving enough of Qazadi to be identifiable. The only reason for him to have lured Solo to Wukkar in the first place, and then manipulated him into taking the job, was so that the casually arrogant smuggler would be where Eanjer could nail him when it was all over. Planting that fake message with Rachele so that he could bring Calrissian into the crosshairs was another planned perk that had sputtered away into nothing.

So maybe he should consider the job only a third successful?

Still, what was past was past. All the annoyance and regrets couldn’t change that.

And if only a third had been successful, it was nevertheless the biggest and most rewarding third. The bounty for Qazadi’s death would more than make the whole operation worthwhile.

There would be other opportunities to catch up with Solo and Calrissian. Patience, as always, was the key.

“Master?”

“I heard you.” Standing up, he picked up the battered Mandalorian helmet and set it on his head. “Jabba had just better have my credits ready.”

“I am sure he does, Master,” the droid assured him hastily.

“Good.” Boba Fett gestured. “Lead the way.”

Did you wonder what Lando was referring to
when he said, “Zerba I only worked with
once, on that Tchine thing”?

Find out in

STAR WARS:
WINNER LOSE ALL

An original eBook novella
by Timothy Zahn

Available now for all e-reading devices

About the Author

T
IMOTHY
Z
AHN
is the author of more than forty novels, nearly ninety short stories and novelettes, and four short fiction collections. In 1984, he won the Hugo Award for best novella. Zahn is best known for his
Star Wars
novels (
Heir to the Empire, Dark Force Rising, The Last Command, Specter of the Past, Vision of the Future, Survivor’s Quest, Outbound Flight, Allegiance
, and
Choices of One
) with more than four million copies of his books in print. Other books include the Cobra series, the Quadrail series, and the young adult Dragonback series. Zahn has a B.S. in physics from Michigan State University and an M.S. from the University of Illinois. He lives with his family on the Oregon coast.

BY TIMOTHY ZAHN

STAR WARS

ALSO

Cobra Alliance
The Judas Solution
Conquerors’ Legacy
Conquerors’ Heritage
Conquerors’ Pride
Cobra Bargain
Cobra Strike
The Backlash Mission
Cobra
The Blackcollar

Read on for an excerpt from

STAR WARS: Crucible
by Troy Denning

Published by Del Rey Books

W
ith lowlifes of every species from three-eyed Gran to four-armed Hekto standing belly-to-bar, the Red Ronto reminded Han Solo of that cantina back on Mos Eisley, the one where he had first met Luke and Obi-Wan all those years ago. Smoke hung in the air so thick and green he could taste it, and the bartender was pulling drinks from a tangle of pipes and spigots more complicated than a hyperdrive unit. There was even an all-Bith band up on stage—though instead of upbeat jatz, they were blasting the room with outdated smazzo.

Usually, the raucous music made Han think of banging coolant lines. But today he was feeling it—that driving bass and stabbing wailhorn … and why not? This trip promised to be more getaway than mission, and he was looking forward to seeing Lando again.

“I don’t like it, Han,” Leia said, raising her voice over the music. “It’s not like Lando to be so late.”

Han turned to look across the table, where Leia sat with a fogblaster in front of her; the glass was barely half-empty. Wearing a gray gunner’s jacket over a white flight suit, she was—as always—the classiest female in the joint … and, despite a few laugh lines, still the most beautiful. He thumbed a control pad on the edge of the table, and the faint yellow radiance of a tranquility screen rose around their booth. The screen was a rare touch of quality for a place like the Red Ronto, but it was one Han appreciated as the raucous music faded to a muffled booming.

“Relax,” Han said. “When has Lando ever missed a rendezvous?”

“My point exactly. Maybe that problem is more dangerous than he thought.” Leia nodded toward the entrance. “And take a look at that miner over there. His Force-aura is filled with anxiety.”