• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

Han Solo, crouched forward in the pilot’s seat, coolly flicking his eyes from instrument to screen, hastily assessed his situation. His lean, youthful face creased in a frown of concern. Beyond the cockpit canopy, the surface of the planet Duroon drew steadily nearer. Somewhere below and astern, a heavily armed vessel had detected the Falcon’s presence and was now homing in to challenge her. That the warship had, in fact, picked up the Millennium Falcon first was a matter of no small worry to Han; the ability to come and go without attracting notice, especially official notice, was vital to a smuggler.

He began relaying fire-control data to the ship’s weapons systems. “Charge main batteries, Chewie,” he said, not taking his eyes from his part of the console, “and shields-all. We’re in prohibited space; can’t let ’em take us or identify the ship.” Particularly, he added to himself, with the cargo we’re hauling.

To his right, Chewbacca the Wookiee made a sound halfway between a grunt and a bark, his furry fingers darting to his controls with sure dexterity, his large, hairy form hunched in the oversized copilot’s seat. Wookiee-style, he showed his fierce fighting teeth as he rapidly surrounded the starship with layers of defensive energy. At the same time, he brought the Falcon’s offensive weaponry up to its maximum charge.

Bracing his ship for battle, Han berated himself for ever having taken on this job. He’d known full well it could take him into conflict with the Corporate Sector Authority, in the middle of a steer-clear area.

The Authority ship’s approach left Han and Chewbacca just seconds for a clutch decision: abort the mission and head for parts unknown, or try to pull off their delivery anyway. Han surveyed his console, hoping for a clue, or a hit off the Cosmic Deck.

The other ship wasn’t gaining. In fact, the Falcon was pulling away. Sensors gauged the mass, armaments, and thrust of their pursuer, and Han made his best guess. “Chewie, I don’t think that’s a ship of the line; looks more like a bulk job, with augmentative weapons. She must’ve just lifted off when she got wind of us. Hell, don’t those guys have anything better to do?” But it figured; the one major Authority installation on Duroon, the only one with a full-dress port layout, was on the far side of the globe, where the dawn line would just be lightening gray sky. Han had planned his landing for a spot as far away from the port as possible, in the middle of the night-side.

“We take her down,” he decided. If the Falcon could shake her follower, Han and Chewbacca could make their drop and, with the luck of the draw, escape.

The Wookiee gave a grumpy growl, black nostrils flaring, tongue curling. Han glared at him. “You got a better idea? It’s a little late to part company, isn’t it?” He took the converted freighter into a steep dive, throwing away altitude in return for increased velocity, heading deeper into Duroon’s umbra.

The Authority vessel, conversely, slowed even more, climbing through the planet’s atmosphere, trading speed for altitude in an attempt to keep the Millennium Falcon under sensor surveillance. Han ignored the Authority’s broadcast order to halt; telesponders that should have automatically given his starship’s identity in response to official inquiry had been disconnected long ago.

“Hold deflector shields at full capacity,” he ordered. “I’m taking her down to the deck; we don’t want our skins cooked off.” The Wookiee complied, to shed thermal energy generated by the Falcon’s rapid passage through the atmosphere. The starship’s controls trembled as she began to buck the denser air Han worked to put the planet between himself and the Authority vessel.

This he soon accomplished, as indicators registered increased heat from the friction of the freighter’s dive. Between watching sensors and looking through the canopy, Han quickly found his first landmark, a volcanically active crevasse that ran on an east-west axis, like a stupendous, burning scar on the flesh of Duroon. He