• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“How long to—” Fiolla was saying, when emergency klaxons began hooting all through the ship. The lighting flickered and died and was replaced by far dimmer emergency illumination. The outcries of frightened passengers could be heard as distant echoes in the passageways.

“What’s happening?” Fiolla yelled over the din. “A drill?”

“It’s no drill,” he said. “They’ve shut down everything but emergency systems; they must be channeling power into their shields.”

He grabbed her hand and started back for the staircase. “Where are we going?” she hollered.

“The nearest escape-pod station or lifeboat bay” was his shouted answer.

The salon was deserted. As they got into the passageway the entire liner rocked under them. Han recovered with the agility of a seasoned spacer, keeping his balance and stopping Fiolla just before she collided with a bulkhead.

“We’ve been hit!” he called. As if to underscore what he said, they heard massive airtight doors sliding into place automatically throughout the ship. The Lady of Mindor had taken hull damage of some sort and been breached.

A steward came running down the passageway with a medipack under one arm. When Han saw he wasn’t about to stop, he grabbed a double handful of the man’s heavily braided jacket.

“Let go,” the steward said, trying to twist free. “You’re supposed to proceed to your quarters. All passengers proceed to quarters.”

Han shook him. “First tell me what’s going on!”

“Pirates! They shot out the main drive as soon as we made transition from hyperspace!” The news shocked Han so much that he released his grip.

As he ran off on his way, the steward shouted back at them. “Return to your quarters, you fools! We’re being boarded!”

VII

“THIS vessel is a fraud,” Spray announced, keying his next move into the gameboard in the Millennium Falcon’s forward compartment.

Chewbacca took just enough time from what he was doing—analyzing Spray’s unorthodox stratagem—to snarl threateningly.

Spray, who had grown more used to the Wookiee’s outbursts, didn’t flinch much at all. He was dividing his time between the compartment’s technical station and the gameboard, giving the Falcon’s first mate a very difficult match while running a combination inventory and inspection of the ship out of a sense of duty to Interstellar Collections Limited. Chewbacca permitted it more to keep the skip-tracer busy than anything else, but this slandering of the Falcon, if unchecked, could only lead to retribution.

Come to think of it, the Wookiee reflected, the Tynnan wasn’t a bad technical pilot. He had even assisted on the liftoff from Bonadan, once Chewbacca had judged that Han and Fiolla had won enough time to get offworld. Spray had copiloted and aided in hyperspace transition with a fussy proficiency, though he’d been startled to learn that Han and Chewbacca habitually spaced by themselves, Han reaching back to his left to carry out navigator’s chores and the Wookiee leaning to his right to run the commo board when needed.

“The exterior is a deception,” Spray was continuing. “Why, some of the equipment you’ve installed is restricted to military use; are you aware of that? And her armament rating’s way too high, as is her lift/mass ratio. How did Captain Solo ever get a Waiver to operate within the Authority?”

The Wookiee, cupping his hirsute chin in both hands, leaned down even closer to the gameboard, ignoring the question. Even if he had been able to communicate eloquently with Spray, he wouldn’t have explained about the Waiver, which had involved an amazing variety of lawbreaking and the total destruction of the covert Authority facility known as Stars’ End.

Miniature holomonsters waited on the circular gameboard, throwing challenges to one another. Chewbacca’s defenses had been penetrated by a lone combatant from Spray’s forces. The question of external versus internal threat was a very subtle one, involving closely matched win/lose parameters. The Wookiee’s nose scrunched