Star Wars_ The Han Solo Adventures - Brian Daley [8]
Han fed jump data into the navicomputer as Chewbacca ran damage checks. Nothing irreparable, the Wookiee decided, but everything would have to have a thorough going-over. But Han Solo and Chewbacca the Wookiee had their money, their freedom, and, for a wonder, their lives. And that, Han thought, should be enough for anyone, shouldn’t it?
The starship’s raving engines carved a line of blue fire across infinity. Han engaged the hyperdrive. Stars seemed to fall away in all directions as the ship outraced sluggard Light. The Millennium Falcon’s main drive boomed, and she disappeared as if she’d never been there.
II
THEY knew they’d be watched, of course, from the moment they docked their battered freighter.
Etti IV was a planet open to general trade, a world where dry winds swept amber, moss-covered plains and shallow, saline seas beneath vermilion skies. It had no remarkable resources in and of itself, but was hospitable to humans and humanoids and occupied a strategic spot on star-routes.
On Etti IV, great wealth had been gathered by lords of the Corporate Sector, and with this wealth had come its universal corollary, a thriving criminal element. Now, Han and Chewbacca made their way down a street of fusion-formed soil, between low buildings of press-bonded minerals and tall ones of permacite and shaped formex. They wove through the spaceport toward the Authority Currency Exchange, with the Wookiee guiding a rented repulsor-lift handtruck. On the handtruck were cases resembling strongboxes, and it was for that reason that the two assumed they’d be watched. The boxes were just the sort of thing to pique the curiosities of assorted criminal types.
But the duo also knew that any watchers would weigh risk against revenue. In the risk column would be Han’s gunman’s rig and his loose, confident gait, plus Chewbacca’s looming presence and ready bowcaster, not to mention the strength and ferocity to twist any attacker’s body into new and different shapes.
So they went their way in confidence, knowing that, as targets, they would appeal to neither the good business sense nor the survival instincts of any would-be stickup artist.
The Authority Currency Exchange had no idea it was abetting a transaction involving gunrunning and insurrection. Han and Chewbacca had already managed to unload the gems with which they’d been paid, exchanging them for precious metals and rare crystalline vertexes. In a Corporate Sector encompassing tens of thousands of star systems, the kind of record-keeping that could keep track of every debt and payment was beyond even the most sophisticated data system. So, without a hitch, Han Solo, tramp freighter captain, smuggler, and freelance law-bender, had converted most of his payment into a nice neat Authority Cash Voucher. If he’d had a hat, he’d have tipped it to the chirping disbursements auto-clerk that spat the voucher at him. He tucked the little plastic chit into a vest pocket.
When they’d left the Exchange, the Wookiee let out one of his long, hooting barks. Han answered, “Yeah, yeah, we’ll pay Ploovo Two-For-One, but first we’ve got one stop to make.”
His sidekick growled loudly, startling bystanders with his displeasure and inviting a dangerous sort of attention. A detachment of Security Police appeared out of the swirl of humans, ’droids, and nonhumans moving along the street.
“Hey, lighten up, pal!” Han murmured out of the side of his mouth. The brown-uniformed Security Police, their suspicious eyes darting beneath battle helmets, sauntered along four abreast, their weapons held ready, as pedestrians moved quickly out of their way. Han saw two of the black battle helmets bob, and knew they’d heard the Wookiee’s outburst. But the disturbance apparently didn’t merit their attention, and the detachment went its way.
Han stared after them, shaking his head. There were all kinds of cops in the galaxy, some of them good, some not. But the Authority