Star Wars_ The Han Solo Trilogy 01_ The Paradise Snare - A. C. Crispin [106]
She stood up and came over to him, then bent down to kiss the top of his head. He stood up and slid his arms around her, held her tightly. “I know what one real thing is,” she said. “You’re real. You’re the most real person I’ve ever met. The most alive.”
He kissed her cheek, and she laid her head on his shoulder. They stood there like that for a minute, not speaking. Finally, he said, “Dewlanna told me about something she believes in. Some sort of life-strength shared by all creatures, all things. She believed in that. She swore to me it was real.”
“Maybe I should go off to Kashyyyk,” she said. “On a pilgrimage.”
“Sure,” he said. “Someday we’ll go there. I’d like to see it. Dewlanna said it was a beautiful world. They live in the treetops.”
“That would be nice,” she said dreamily. “Just you and me in a treetop. What would we do with ourselves all day?”
“I can think of one thing,” he said, and bent to kiss her with such passion that even the stars seemed to reel around her in long streaks, and her ears rang …
No, she realized, a moment later, it wasn’t Han’s kiss that had caused that reaction, it was the alarm beeping to tell them they were coming out of hyperspace. Han grimaced. “Talk about bad timing, sweetheart. But … later, okay?”
She smiled. “Later … I’ll hold you to it.”
He was already back in his seat as he checked their coordinates, but he spared a moment to give her a grin that made her heart turn over. “I can hardly wait …”
Han set the Talisman down in a privately owned landing field on Tralus. “What is this place?” Bria said, following him down the ramp and looking around her in bewilderment. Ships of all sizes and descriptions were clustered together. Some were little more than rusted-out hulks … others looked almost brand-new. None had any identifying codes or names, however. Those markings had been scoured off by laser torches. “It’s like … a ship’s graveyard or something.”
“Yeah. Old spaceships never die … they just wind up at Truthful Toryl’s Used Spaceship Lot,” Han said. “When you need a ship, or you want to get rid of a ship, and you don’t want to leave a … trail … you come here.”
Her eyes widened. “These ships are all … stolen?”
“Most of ’em,” he said. “Ours is, too … remember?”
Bria grimaced. “I keep trying to forget.”
Han glanced over at the small office set in the middle of the vast landing field. “And here comes Truthful Toryl himself,” he said.
Truthful Toryl was a Duros, a tall, thin, blue-skinned humanoid. Completely bald, his face was quite human except for the absence of a nose—which gave him a mournful appearance. Han stepped forward, his hand held out. “Good day to you, Traveler Toryl,” he said. Duros loved to travel so much that the word “traveler” was their preferred honorific. “I’m Keil d’Tana, and this is my associate, Kyloria m’Bal. Very pleased to meet you.”
“And I you,” Toryl said. “Greetings to two travelers. You have time for refreshment and sharing of stories?”
The Duros were famed for being wonderful storytellers throughout the galaxy. A Duros had a near-photographic memory for any story he or she heard. Most Duros “collected” stories, and apparently Toryl was no exception.
“I’m sorry,” Han said. “We are in a bit of a rush. There’s a passenger vessel we have to catch.”
“I quite understand,” the Duros said. “Since you are taking public transport, I gather you are here to sell, not buy, a ship.”
“You’re right, Traveler,” Han said. “It’s in prime condition, too. A lovely little pleasure yacht. Just needs a little refitting to be perfect for some rich Corellian family who wants to take the kids on the perfect vacation.”
“Yacht?” Bria thought Toryl’s voice sharpened on the word, but couldn’t be sure. “I will look and quote you a price, Traveler d’Tana.”
Han led the way to where the Talisman rested. The Duros’s normally mournful-appearing features lengthened even farther when he saw the Ylesian vessel.