Star Wars_ The Han Solo Trilogy 01_ The Paradise Snare - A. C. Crispin [18]
Her answer was short and to the point. Han had never heard her curse before.
He faded in and out as they moved through the corridors, and his next clear memory was of being strapped into the seat of a shuttle. Han had never known Dewlanna could pilot, but she handled the controls competently with her huge, furred hands. The shuttle slipped loose from its moorings, and then accelerated toward Corellia.
The fever was making Han light-headed, and he kept imagining that he heard Shrike’s voice, cursing. He tried to say something about it to Dewlanna, but found he didn’t have the strength to get the words out …
He next regained consciousness in the medical droid’s waiting room. Dewlanna was sitting down, with Han’s scrawny form still clutched protectively in her arms.
Suddenly a door opened, and the droid appeared. It was a large, elongated droid, equipped with anti-grav units so that it floated around its patient as Dewlanna placed Han on the examining table. Han felt a prick against his skin as the droid took a blood sample.
“Do you understand Basic, madame?” inquired the droid.
For a moment Han was about to answer that of course he understood Basic, and who was Madame?—but then Dewlanna rumbled. Oh, of course. The medical unit was talking to her.
“This young patient has contracted Corellian tanamen fever,” the droid told Dewlanna. “His case is quite severe. It is fortunate that you did not wait any longer to bring him to me. I will need to keep him here and observe him until tomorrow. Do you wish to stay with him?”
Dewlanna rumbled her assent.
“Very well, madame. I am going to use bacta immersion therapy to restore his metabolic equilibrium. That will also bring his fever down.”
Han took one look at the waiting bacta tank and feebly tried to make a run for the door. Between them, Dewlanna and the medical unit restrained him easily. The boy felt another needle prick his arm, and then the whole universe tilted sideways and slid into blackness …
Han opened his eyes, realizing his reverie had turned into sleep, then dreams. He shook his head, remembering how wobbly he’d been when Dewlanna and the droid helped him out of the bacta tank. Then Dewlanna paid the droid out of her own small store of credits and piloted them back to Trader’s Luck.
The young pilot grimaced. Boy, Shrike had been mad. Han was worried that he’d space them both. But Dewlanna never showed even the slightest sign of fear as she stood between the captain and Han, insisting that she’d done the right thing, that otherwise the boy would have died.
In the end, Shrike subsided because one of the pieces of jewelry Han had stolen that night turned out to be set with a genuine Krayt dragon pearl. When the captain discovered what it was worth, he was mollified.
But he didn’t pay Dewlanna back for Han’s medical bills …
Han sighed and closed his eyes. Dewlanna’s loss was like a knife wound—no matter how he tried, he couldn’t get away from the pain, and the memories. He’d let down his guard and suddenly find himself thinking of her as still alive, visualize himself talking to her, telling her about his troubles with the recalcitrant R2 unit—only to be brought up short with pain nearly as searing and immediate as he’d felt yesterday when he’d held her dying body.
Han swallowed another sip of water, trying to ease the tightness in his throat. He owed Dewlanna … owed her so much. His life—even his true identity—he owed Dewlanna for that, too …
Han sighed. Until he was eleven years old, his only name had been “Han.” The boy often wondered and worried about whether he had a last name. One time he mentioned his concern to Dewlanna, along with his conviction that if anyone knew who he really was, it was Shrike.
Very soon after that, Dewlanna learned to play sabacc …
Han heard the soft scratch on the door to his tiny cubicle and woke instantly. Listening, he heard the scratch again, then a soft whine. “Dewlanna?” he whispered, sliding