Star Wars_ Millennium Falcon - James Luceno [26]
“Well, there were lots of owners. The Falcon's over a hundred years old.”
“Uncle Lando used to own her,” Leia said.
“He did?”
Han nodded. “For a couple of years, anyway.”
“Did you buy her from him?”
“Uh, not quite.”
“Grandpa won her from Uncle Lando. In a game of cards.”
Allana's eyes widened in delight. “Wow!”
Leia smiled. The tale of Han's winning hand was well worn—his pure sabacc besting Lando's near idiot's array. When Han had confessed to having bought his way into the Cloud City tournament with stolen property—a golden palador figurine he had taken from a Ylesian high priest and a dragon pearl he had swiped from an Imperial general—Leia knew she had finally found the title for the second volume of the memoir she would someday write. It would be called The Crook, the Wook, and Me.
Han was laughing. “Here's something even better. Lando—Uncle Lando, he won her from someone else in a game of cards.”
“So the Falcon is like a prize,” Allana said.
Han threw Leia a look. “Exactly what I've been saying all these years.”
“Who did Uncle Lando win it from?”
Han pinched his chin in thought. “What was that guy's name? The professional gambler …”
Leia shook her head. “I'm not sure you ever told me.”
“Sure I did. The guy that lost to Lando at Cloud City?”
“Who owned it before the one Lando won it from?” Allana pressed.
Han blew out his breath. “I don't know.”
Leia looked surprised. “You don't?”
“Nope. Every time Chewie and I set out to find out, something would interfere.”
“I can imagine,” Leia said drily.
Han shook his head. “You only think you can. 'Course, I've heard rumors through the years. I just don't know which ones are true.”
“That would be really fun,” Allana said.
“What?” Han and Leia replied in unison.
“Finding out all the people who owned the Falcon before Grandpa.”
Han smiled tolerantly. “I don't think that's possible.”
“Why not?”
“For one thing, because unless a lot of the owners were Bith or Muuns or some other species that lives longer than humans, most of them are probably dead.”
Leia watched Allana's smile collapse. “Even if that turns out to be true, Han, it would be so much fun trying. And we haven't visited Lando and Tendra in ages. We could start there.”
Allana showed Han an imploring look. “Please, please let's do it.”
“I, uh …”
Leia cocked an eyebrow. “Some pressing engagement you haven't told me about, darling?”
“No.”
“Well, then?”
Han blinked and exhaled through his nose. “Okay. Let's do it.”
“Another escapade,” C-3PO sighed while Allana was hugging Leia's legs.
Han gazed at the device that might be an archaic transponder. Putting it to his ear, he thought he could detect a faint humming sound, as if the device were awaiting a long-lost signal.
AT THE AURORA MEDICAL FACILITY ON OBROA-SKAI, LIFE-SUPPORT systems and bioscanning devices chirped and beeped to one another. Gathered around the patient's bed, a group of physicians and med droids evaluated the data and conferred.
“Brain waves indicate an elevation from phase three to hypnopompic,” one of the droids reported. “Rapid eye movement has ceased.”
“Carefully now,” Sompa told the droid, his head tresses writhing in anticipation. “He is surfacing, but the transition must be managed delicately.” The Ho'Din physician paused to study the readouts, then turned to another of the droids. “Increase the dosage by a factor of point-five.”
The droid complied, widening the aperture of a petcock that regulated the flow of drugs into the patient's arm.
“Carefully,” Sompa warned. He stole another glance at the monitors, finding encouragement in the neuroimaging displays. “I'm confident we will be able to bring him all the way back this time.”
The human patient moaned, though not in pain; more as if awakening from a long afternoon nap.
In keeping with Aurora's reputation, the med droids included the best that money could buy: a humanoid Industrial Automaton 2-1B; a twenty-year-old Medtech FX series 10 assistant, upgraded with the latest in heuristic processors; two Chiewab GH-7s, whose repulsorlifts