Star Wars_ The Black Fleet Crisis 03_ Tyrant's Test - Michael P. Kube-McDowell [60]
He also studied the faces and physiques of not only the guards, but the gate proctor, the transporter driver, and any Yevethan pedestrians he could catch a good long look at. With the help of those examples, he made a start at learning to distinguish one Yevetha from another.
At the same time, Han’s busy mind assessed the effectiveness of his restraints. The similarity to the bench in the audience room prompted Han to wonder if the method had been designed for Yevethan physiology—it seemed as though the bar would either prevent the murderous dew claw from emerging or render it useless if extended.
But the effectiveness of the bar depended on the prisoner being unable to either pass the bar under his feet or to simply slide a wrist out to one end. Yevethan physiology might not allow for either of those motions, but Han was confident that human physiology—even his less-than-ideally-limber variant—would. He did not immediately test his theory, but he was buoyed by the thought that he could free his hands at any time and—as a bonus—have the bar to use as a weapon.
That happy thought lasted only until they reached the spaceport, where the transport was met by more guards and one of the Yevetha who had been present for Barth’s execution. The moment the Yevethan official first saw Han clearly, he barked angry words and cuffed one of the guards sharply across the face. Almost immediately, another guard moved behind Han and wrapped a thick strap around his upper arms, just above the elbows. With it in place, the escape Han had planned was quite impossible.
“An understandable but quite dangerous oversight,” the Yevetha said to Han in Basic. His diction was excellent, his delivery almost irritatingly smooth. “The guard detail at the palace is not accustomed to handling human prisoners.”
That same Yevetha led the way across the rough pavement of the spaceport apron to where a delta-type Imperial shuttle waited on its skids. Han was surprised to see that the two Yevetha already seated in the cockpit wore no more clothing than any of the others—no pressure suit, not even a helmet. He filed that fact away as he climbed into the spartan cabin.
One guard and the Yevethan official climbed in after him, and Han realized that he was to have a traveling companion. The guard sat beside him on the long portside bench, the official opposite him.
“I am Tal Fraan, proctor cogent to the viceroy.”
“I’m sure your mother’s very proud of you,” Han said. The hatch was secured from outside, and the idling whine of the engines increased sharply. He noted that the engines sounded tight and smooth—much better than the typical Imperial offerings.
Tal Fraan loosed an open-mouth hiss that Han thought might be a laugh. “Tell me, did you enjoy thinking that you might escape?”
Han said nothing and directed his gaze out the viewport as the shuttle began to climb.
“Do you know that we have no prisons?” Tal Fraan said. “In a city of more than one million, on a planet of nearly seven hundred million, there is not a single Yevethan jail, penitentiary, or stockade. We have no need of such things. There is no equivalent in our language for convict or incarcerate.”
“I guess that’d be one of the often overlooked advantages of summary execution,” said Han. “Keeps the taxes down.”
“So true,” said Tal Fraan, with no apparent awareness of Han’s ironic tone. “That you choose to sustain those who harm you was a great puzzlement to me for some time.”
“It can’t have been a complete surprise,” said Han. “The place you kept us looked a lot like a prison to me.”
“Those you call Imperials made up for this lack of experience on our part,” Tal Fraan said. “The cell in which you were kept in the grand palace was built by the overlords during the occupation. And the Imperial starships are well equipped in this regard, as you will see.”
“If this is just a goodwill tour, you