Star Wars_ The Han Solo Adventures - Brian Daley [140]
But the boat set down obediently and precisely at one side of the field by port control, at a spot designated. Ground vehicles mounted with portable artillery closed in around the little vessel while the larger emplacements went back to standby. The spaceport automata, cargo-handlers, automovers, and the like, their simple circuitry satisfied that there was no reason to discontinue work, returned to their tasks, with one exception. No one even noticed the labor ’droid who, still carrying a shipping crate, started off across the field.
As he cracked the boat’s hatch, Han turned to check on his companion. “Fiolla, you’ve got great judgment in hired help, that’s all I can say.”
“Solo, he passed an in-depth security investigation,” she insisted, rather more loudly. “What was I supposed to do, have him brain-probed?”
Han stopped as he was about to swing down to the landing field. “Not a bad idea. Anyway, this tells us a lot. When you gained access to the slavers’ computer pocket on Bonadan, it wasn’t just because of miskeying. Magg’s terminal probably had some sort of special-access equipment built into it; looks like he’s the slavers’ roving accountant, too, and maybe their security man as well.
“He sent you out on that scooter so you could be quietly taken out of the way. I’ll bet he gimmicked up that fancy scanner-proof gun of yours, too.”
Fiolla was fast on the recovery, he had to give her that. She had already accepted what she had seen and revised her ideas accordingly. “That doesn’t make any of this my fault,” she pointed out logically.
Han didn’t answer, being busy staring into the barrels and emission apertures of a variety of lethal weapons, doing his best to look friendly and unthreatening. He showed empty hands.
A man in unmatched tunic and trousers stepped up, disruptor in hand. His uniform wasn’t regulation but he wore a starburst insignia on an armband. Han already knew from inquiries that Ammuud was run by a loose and often competitive coalition of seven major clans under Authority subcontract. From the disparity of uniforms and attire it appeared that all seven clans supplied men to the port security force.
“What’s the meaning of this?” the leader snapped. “Who are you? What happened up there?” On that last he gestured toward the sky over Ammuud with his pistol barrel.
Han dropped down from the open hatch and casually but conspicuously raised his hands while donning his sunniest smile. “We were passengers on the liner Lady of Mindor. She was attacked and boarded by pirates; we two escaped, but I don’t know what happened after we left.”
“According to screens, the pirate has cut loose from that liner and run; we haven’t got a paint on it anymore. Let me see your identification, please.” The man hadn’t lowered his sidearm.
“We didn’t have time to pack our bags,” Han told him. “We jumped the first lifeboat we came to and got clear.”
“And just in time,” added Fiolla, poised at the hatch. “Please help me down, darling?”
Several of the port police automatically closed in to assist. Fiolla looked very good, even with her gown ripped and dust from the utility core on her. She also added a convincing note to Han’s story. He interceded before anyone else could help and, hands at her waist, lowered her to the field.
The officer in charge began rubbing his forehead. “It looks as if I’ll have to take you to the Reesbon stronghold for further questioning.”
But one of his men objected. “Why to the Reesbon’s? Why not to our clan stronghold, the Glayyd’s? There are more of us here than you.”
Han recalled that Reesbon and Glayyd were two of the six controlling clans