Star Wars_ The Han Solo Adventures - Brian Daley [164]
Chewbacca growled, showing long fangs, and might have tried for a shootout right then and there. But there was no doubt that the gunman could kill the Wookiee where he stood and maybe get Han as well. At least, Gallandro seemed confident he could.
“Pass it to him, Chewie,” Han ordered. The Wookiee looked at him, snarled again at Gallandro, and reluctantly handed his weapon over stock-first. Gallandro was careful to stay out of reach of those shaggy arms. With a gesture to the ramp, he invited them aboard.
“It’s nearly that time, Captain Solo,” said the gunman.
Just about, Han agreed to himself, and preceded Gallandro up the ramp.
“Now,” said Gallandro contentedly when they were aboard, “if your copilot will be good enough to prepare the ship, you and I will get that data plaque.” He caught Chewbacca’s eye. “Warm up your engines only, and don’t do anything rash, my friend; your partner’s life hinges on it.”
The Wookiee turned to go and Han led the way toward his quarters. The cramped cubicle was in the same disarray as when he had last seen it, with clothes and equipment strewn on the sleeping pallet and the tiny desk and chair. The pallet’s free-fall netting had somehow come unstrapped from its retainers and hung from the bulkhead. A used mealpack tray sat atop the desk reader.
Han ignored the clutter and stepped to his minuscule closet as Gallandro put the bowcaster aside. With the gunman watching him carefully, Han reached his right hand into the inner pocket of his thermosuit, feeling for Zlarb’s security case. But as he groped for it he found that the case’s clip was engaged, hooked through the top edge of the pocket.
That Wookiee’s a big, ugly genius! Han thought, instantly covering the disarm button with his forefinger and drawing the case out, separating it from its clip. He offered it to the gunman.
Gallandro put out his own right hand willingly. It had occurred to him that Han might take advantage of the brief distraction and go for his blaster while Gallandro’s right hand was on the case. He was more than happy to let Han try it if he wanted to. But while both men’s right hands were still on the security case, Han simply moved his finger off the safety.
The two cried out as a surge of neuro-paralysis washed up their arms like an absolute-zero lightning bolt. The security case clattered to the deck as they both clutched numb, useless arms to their sides.
Gallandro gritted his teeth and glared at Han, who slowly and cautiously flicked open the tie-down of his holster. Gallandro’s own left hand started for his holstered weapon but he realized what an awkward move it was and that Han hadn’t gone for his blaster yet.
Han tugged at his gunbelt until his blaster sat, butt-forward, on his left hip. Gallandro, smile gone, did the same with his own tooled holster. Their hands were close to their weapons now.
“Had to change the odds a bit,” Han grinned amiably. “Hope you don’t mind. Whenever you’re ready, Gallandro. The stage is yours.”
The gunfighter’s upper lip now held beads of sweat among the strands of his mustache. His hand began to tense, fingers preparing for the unfamiliar task. Han almost went for his gun then, but curbed himself sharply. Gallandro would have to be the one to decide.
The gunman’s left hand drooped loosely, as he abandoned the effort. Chewbacca, unable to ignore the outcries he’d heard, appeared at the hatch. Han snatched the blaster from Gallandro’s tooled holster and pressed it into his first mate’s midsection as he dodged past him. “Hold onto him! I’m getting us out of here if I can!”
He was reading instrumentation from the moment he entered the cockpit at a full run. He stopped himself with the heel of his left hand against the console and vaulted into his seat. The engines were hot but, as per Gallandro’s orders, guns, shields, and everything else