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Greedo and Goa finally found Solo and the Wookiee having breakfast at a little outdoor cafe behind the dewback stables.

Greedo kept his hand on his holstered gun, but didn’t bother to turn off the safety because Goa had a rifle trained on the quarry from the alley across the street.

“Rylun pa getpa gushu, Solo?” Enjoy your breakfast, Solo?

Greedo tried to sound tough and relaxed, but in fact he was wound up tight. If Solo stiffed him today, he wouldn’t know what to do. Jabba wouldn’t be happy if he killed Solo without collecting the debt. The contract was for the money, not a corpse.

“Greedo! I’ve been looking all over for you! Decide to sleep in today?” Han chortled to himself and took another bite of dewback steak. Chewbacca raised an eyebrow and cocked his head. He had his bowcaster leaning against his leg, loaded and ready.

“Fna ho koru gep, Solo. Kras ka noota.” Don’t be funny, Solo. Give me the money.

“Sure. The money. Happy to oblige. You want something to eat first? You look like you could use a good meal.”

Greedo realized Solo was putting him on, and sudden anger flared in his veins. Impulsively he reached down and grabbed Solo’s shirt. “Ka noota! Grot pleno ka Jabba spulta?” The money! Or would you like to explain to Jabba personally?

“NNRRARRG!” Instantly Chewie was on his feet, one huge shaggy arm around Greedo’s neck, the other gripping the bounty hunter’s blaster hand.

“Nfuto—!”

“Thanks, Chewie.” Han stood up and casually wiped his mouth with a napkin. He reached over and took Greedo’s weapon, snapped open the chamber, and removed the power cell. He handed the useless blaster back to Greedo.

“You know, kid, I was almost starting to like you. Now I’m not so sure. Let me give you some sage advice. Stay away from slugs like Jabba. Find an honest way to make a living … Let him go, Chewie.”

“Hnnruaahn!” Chewie released his grip, and Greedo tumbled forward. Han stepped out of the way and Greedo fell against a table, sending dishware crashing.

“Nice. Where does Jabba find these punks? What about the guy in the alley across the street, Chewie?”

“Hwarrun!”

“Disappeared, huh? Another half-baked bounty creep, probably. You’d think Jabba could buy the best to track a guy like me!”

“Hurrwan nwrunnh.”

“Yeah, I agree. We’re playin’ with fire hanging around here. The Falcon’s prepped—we could have jumped this morning if Taggart had kept his promise. If he doesn’t show by tomorrow with that load of glitterstim he wants transferred, we’re history, okay with you?”

“WNHUARRN!”

“I thought so.”

Jabba the Hutt was not amused.

“Kubwa funga na jibo! You said this inexperienced slime-wart could collect from Solo! I ought to toss you both into my private dungeon and let you rot!”

Or words to that effect. The great worm huffed and rumbled and oozed foulness. On either side of his throne platform, Weequays and Nikto brandished their weapons ominously. As usual, Jabba’s audience chamber was crowded with the dregs of a hundred galactic civilizations.

Warhog Goa was abject. He groveled shamelessly before the bloated drooling crimelord. As he did so, he regretted bringing Greedo back here without the prize. But he had to seek another audience, to persuade Jabba to let Greedo kill Solo without collecting the debt. That was the key. Now the words tumbled out in one breath—he had to say it all before Jabba pronounced their deaths!

“Oh, most incomparable Jabba, as you are well aware, Han Solo, that worthless piece of dianoga dung, is a very difficult customer. May I suggest that you allow my protégé to simply kill Solo, and take his ship as payment for the debt he owes you?”

Jabba grunted and puffed his water pipe thoughtfully. Then he seemed to brighten, if that were possible. “Ne voota kinja. Jabba likes your suggestion. He will spare the superfluous life of your protégé.”

He looked straight at Greedo before he spoke again. At a signal from Jabba, the silver protocol droid, K-8LR, stepped up and translated Jabba’s every evil word into the Rodian tongue: “You may bring me Solo so that I may