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“Okay, stay sharp,” Han told Skynx, and the search began. Soon they were absorbed in the intricate business of examining side corridors for the identi-marks described by their prisoners and copied by Skynx. These lowest levels of the vault proper were stale and seemed airless, layered with ankle-deep dust, and a gloom that resisted the beam of the hand-held spotlight. They passed room after room of empty bins and vacant shelves.

At last Skynx stopped. “Captain, this is it! These are the ones!” He was vibrating with excitement. To Han the side corridor looked no different from any other, ending as it did in a blank wall at the bottom of an obviously empty vault complex. But Skynx was right; the identi-marks matched. Han shucked his other gear and lifted a heavy-duty fusion cutter into place. Skynx, taking the com-link, tried to contact the others and inform them of the find, but could raise no response.

“The walls are probably too thick,” Han suggested as he set to work. When it had been built, the wall would have withstood any assault that could have been made with portable equipment, but Han was beneficiary of a long technological gap. Chunks of the wall began to fall away. Beyond was the glow of a perpetual illumi-system.

Han set the fusion cutter aside hurriedly, anxious to see for himself. A treasure beyond spending! He could barely contain himself. He ducked and stepped through, followed by Skynx. The vault was dust-free, dry, and as quiet as when Xim’s artisans had sealed it, moments before they were put to death, centuries ago.

His steps echoing in the stillness, Han smiled. “The real vaults; all the time they were right here!” Hunters had scoured this whole part of space for Xim’s treasure because his vaults were empty and all the time there had been complete duplicates, right under the decoys. “Skynx, I’ll buy you a planet to play with!”

The Ruurian made no answer, silenced by the weight of years hanging over the place. They followed the corridor through a few turns and came to a stretch where warning flashers blinked in their wall sockets, as they had been doing for centuries. This no-weapons zone was an antechamber to the true treasure vaults of Xim.

Han stopped, wishing neither to be burned by the defensive weapons nor to go on unarmed, aware he might face other dangers. He turned back with great reluctance. At the fusion-cut opening, Gallandro waited.

Han paused and Skynx waited uncertainly. “We found it,” the pilot told the gunman with a jerk of his thumb. “The real one. It’s back there.” He realized Gallandro had heard Skynx’s transmissions after all.

Gallandro registered no elation, only amused acceptance. Han knew without being told that everything had changed. The gunman’s abandoned equipment was stacked to one side, and he had doffed his short jacket, prelude to a gun duel. “I said, the treasure is back there,” Han repeated.

Gallandro smiled his frosty smile. “This has nothing to do with money, Solo, although I postponed it until you and your group could help me find the vaults. I have my own plans for Xim’s treasure.”

Han warily shrugged out of his jacket. “Why?” was all he asked, carefully unsnapping his holster’s retaining strap and rotating it forward out of his way. His fingers stretched and worked, waiting.

“You require chastening, Solo. Who do you think you are? Truth to tell, you’re nothing but a commonplace outlaw. Your luck has run out: now, call the play!”

Han nodded, knowing Gallandro would if he didn’t. “And this’ll make you feel superior, right?” His hand blurred for his blaster, the best single play of his life.

Their speeddraw mechanics were very different. Han’s incorporated movements of shoulders and knees, a slight dipping, a partial twist. Gallandro’s was ruthless economy, an explosion of every nerve and muscle that moved his right arm alone.

When the blaster bolt slammed into his shoulder, Han’s overwhelming reaction was surprise; some part of him had believed