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Torm gave Atuarre a vicious kick. His superior weight and strength sent her sprawling, blocking Han, who had been moving for a clear shot. As Han skirted Atuarre, Torm tore Pakka from his shoulders and threw the cub aside just as Bollux blundered into the pilot’s path. Pakka bounced off one of the pads of safety cushioning lining the compartment hatch, as Torm dashed into the passageway.

Dodging, moving as quickly as he could, Torm raced past the cockpit, main ladderwell, and ramp hatch; none of them held any promise of even temporary safety. He heard Han’s bootsteps close behind and ducked into the first compartment he came to, damning himself for not having taken time to learn the ship’s layout. He hit the hatch-close button as he came through. The compartment was empty, offering no tools, nothing he might use as a weapon. He’d been hoping this was the escape-pod chamber, but fortune had passed him by. At least, he thought, he had a moment’s respite. He might be able to buy time, perhaps even wrest Solo’s blaster from him. His thoughts were moving so quickly that he didn’t realize, for a moment, where he was. But when he did, he threw himself back at the hatch through which he’d come, tearing at the controls, screaming obscenities.

“Don’t waste your time,” came Han’s voice over the intercom. “Nice of you to choose the emergency lock, Torm. It’s where you would’ve ended up anyway.”

Han stood looking through the viewport set in the lock’s inner hatch. He’d overridden the lock’s controls to make sure Torm couldn’t get back in. All the Falcon’s access systems had inboard overrides, to make life complicated for anyone interested in forced entry, a wise smuggler’s option.

Torm tried to wet his lips with a very dry tongue. “Solo, stop and think a minute.”

“Save your breath, Torm. You’re gonna need it all; you’re going swimming.” There were, of course, no spacesuits stored in the lock. Torm’s eyes opened wide with fear.

“Solo, no! I never had anything against you; I never would have come, except that bastard Rekkon and the Trianii never took their eyes off me. If I’d cut, they would have shot me. You can understand that, can’t you? I had to look out for number one, Solo!”

“So you shot Rekkon,” Han told him in a soft voice, no questioning to it.

“I had to! If he’d passed on word about Stars’ End, it would’ve been my neck! You don’t know these Authority people, Solo; they don’t accept failure. It was Rekkon or me.”

Atuarre came up behind Han, and Pakka and Bollux after her. The cub climbed up the ’droid’s shoulders for a better view. “But, Torm,” Atuarre said, “Rekkon found you, recruited you. Your father and brother really have disappeared.”

Without facing away from the viewport, Han added, “I’m sure they did. Your father and older brother, right, Torm? Let’s see, now, that wouldn’t by any chance make you heir to the Kail Ranges, would it?”

The traitor’s face was waxen. “Yes, if I did as the Authority asked. Solo, don’t play righteous with me! You said you’re a businessman, didn’t you? I can get all the money you want! You want your friend back? The Wookiee is on his way to Stars’ End by now; the only way you’ll ever see him again is by bargaining with me. The Authority’s got no grudge against you; you can name your price!”

Torm reasserted control over himself, going on more calmly. “These people keep their word, Solo. They don’t even know your names yet, any of you; I was operating under deep cover, saving the information I developed so I could up the price. Strike a deal. The Authority’s just good business people, like you and me. You can have the Wookiee back and go free with enough money to buy a new ship.”

He got no answer. Han’s gaze had gone to his own reflection in the metal of the emergency lock’s control panel. Torm pounded his fists on the inner hatch, a dull thudding.

“Solo, tell me what you want; I’ll get it for you, I swear! You’re a guy who looks out for number one, aren’t you? Isn’t that what you are, Solo?”

Han stared at his own lean reflection.