Star Wars_ Millennium Falcon - James Luceno [43]
“Is there luggage, Captain Solo?” the Lutrillian said.
Han indicated the Falcon with a nod of his head. “In the ship.”
“May I instruct our droids to fetch your bags?”
“Uh, our droid will do it.” Han glanced at C-3PO, who turned and climbed the ramp without comment.
An absurdly long repulsor limo floated into the docking bay.
“Is that for us?” Allana asked Leia.
“I'm afraid so, sweetie.”
She whispered: “That's even bigger than my mom's!”
“We have already had you cleared through immigration and customs,” the Lutrillian said. “The pilot will convey you directly to the resort by way of tunnels reserved for our special guests. Is there any service you wish done to your ship while you're onworld—washing, refueling, or routine maintenance?”
“No,” Han said firmly. “The ship is off-limits.”
“Of course, sir.”
The rear doors of the limo began to elevate. When C-3PO emerged from the ship toting three small bags, Han raised the ramp and enabled the Falcon's security system.
“There is space in the cargo compartment for your droid, as well,” the Lutrillian said.
“In the cargo compartment?” C-3PO said in distress.
Han grinned. “That's all right, he can ride with us.”
“Thank you, Captain Solo.”
Han shoved C-3PO gently into the rear of the limo. “Don't say I never do anything for you.”
Smoothly and quietly, the repulsor limo exited the docking bay and disappeared into a broad tunnel.
Allana slumped in the seat, disappointed. “I wanted to see the Ribbon.”
“We will,” Leia said, patting her on the knee. “After we check into our room.”
Han decided he was fine with going straight to the hotel. Normally he and Leia traveled incognito, but what sense did it make to pretend to be someone else when they'd come to Oseon VII to peel back a layer of the Falcon's history? What's more, it would only be a matter of time before tourists on the Ribbon recognized them. Although on Oseon VII they could probably claim to be celebrity impersonators and get away with it.
One of several dozen systems that made up a region of space known as the Centrality, the Oseon—much like the Corporate Sector—had been left to develop in its own fashion. Some of the galaxy's most unusual planets were located in the Centrality, but what set the Oseon system apart and made it a hub for tourism was an annual stellar event known as the Flamewind—a radiation storm of shifting colors that lasted three weeks and was said to provoke emotional reactions in spectators. Almost fifty years earlier, Lando and his droid-that-would-be-a-spacecraft, Vuffi Raa, had been forced to negotiate the Oseon system during a Flamewind without the aid of the Falcon's navicomputer.
Over the centuries, Oseon VII had become not only a base for exploring the Centrality but a gambling center, as well, with elaborate casinos modeled after other wonders of the galaxy—both natural and artificial, past and present—strung out along a fifty-kilometer-long strip known as the Ribbon. The former Ithor and Vortex's Cathedral of Winds, present-day Kashyyyk, and even Republic-era Coruscant were among the planet's richly detailed facsimiles, lovingly re-created by an entertainment consortium known as PlanetDreams, Inc., whose current vice president was none other than the onetime owner of the Millennium Falcon, Cix Trouvee.
Attendants were on hand to see to the Solos' every whim when the repulsor limo came to a halt at the Oseon Resort's majestic entrance. First to exit, Leia said, “Oh, no.”
Han saw why. A lavish runner had been rolled out for them, lined on both sides with uniformed Centran species staff members and servant droids. Accustomed to pomp and circumstance, Allana took all of it