Star Wars_ Millennium Falcon - James Luceno [65]
False beard and mustache askew, Han rolled out from under another attempt by the Rodian wielder of the ashtray stand and tried to scramble to his feet, only to be tripped by the second assailant—a Duros wearing the uniform of a security guard. Landing on his back, Han began to slide down the steep ramp that led to the balcony seats and private viewing platforms, his head thumping the floor as it passed over the ramp's widely spaced shallow steps and the wig sliding down over his eyes. On both sides of the ramp, spectators were rising from their seats, shouting, screaming, and clutching their children to them. Han had enough sense to know that he was sliding headfirst for the low retaining wall at the foot of the ramp. Forcing his feet from the floor, he managed to complete a backward somersault and come to his feet just short of the wall, but with his arms extended straight out to the sides and flailing desperately in an effort to keep him from plunging over the wall to the arena floor. At the same time, the Duros and the Rodian were hurrying down the ramp straight for him.
Han waited until they were two meters away and ready to lunge; then he let himself roll backward over the wall, hands poised to fasten themselves to the top as the rest of his body fell and the wig slipped off. The Duros went sailing out into space over his head and a few heartbeats later slammed down onto the arena floor, prompting a stampede among the pets and handlers amid whom he had landed. Though the Rodian came to a skidding stop, momentum carried him face-first over the wall. At the last instant the green biped secured a grip on the wall and wound up hanging alongside Han, but gazing out over the arena floor where Han's face was pressed to the wall.
Han felt the Rodian's fist slam into the back of his head and responded by slamming his right hand into the Rodian's snout. Above them, spectators angered by the turmoil the brawl had caused were making for the retaining wall with clear intent. Before a blow could land on his white-knuckled fingers, Han seized hold of the Rodian and began to work his way down to the Rodian's skinny legs, which began to swing side-to-side. At the height of one of the swings, Han threw himself into the nearest of the private booths, even as the Rodian was plummeting feetfirst to the arena floor.
Saucer-shaped, the booths were similar in design and function to the hover platforms of the old Senate Rotunda. The Bimm occupants of the private booth Han had chosen as a destination shrieked as he came crashing into their midst, his feet striking the booth's autopilot control panel. With a suddenness that spilled the Bimms into the private seating platform below theirs, the booth undocked from the balcony and went soaring out over the arena floor, inciting greater chaos among the pets, owners, judges, and everyone else unfortunate enough to be nearby. Hands fidgeting with the controls, Han attempted to land the booth, but it refused to obey any commands outside its programming. The programming was already returning it to the balcony docking station, where two stout human security guards were waiting with drawn blasters. Instinctively Han reached for his BlasTech, remembering even as he did that he had surrendered it to security on entering the arena. Diving once more for the controls, he began to fumble beneath the panel for the relays that would disable the repulsorlift.
Instead, his hands found the hover's limiter relays.
The booth shot forward, dumping Han onto his backside before barreling into the docking station with enough force to shatter the magnetic connectors. The pair of armed humans beat a hasty retreat to the balcony, but now Han was facing a new problem. Refusing to take no for an answer, the booth began to slam repeatedly into the retracting arm clamps in an attempt to dock. Time and again it tried, as if growing increasingly