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“But—”

“I’ve had it with you, Solo. I’ve been lenient with you so far, because you’re a blasted good swoop pilot and all that prize money came in handy, but my patience is ended.” Shrike ceremoniously pushed up the sleeves of his bedizened uniform, then balled his hands into fists. The galley’s artificial lighting made the blood-jewel ring glitter dull silver. “Let’s see what a few days of fighting off Devaronian blood-poisoning does for your attitude—along with maybe a few broken bones. I’m doing this for your own good, boy. Someday you’ll thank me.”

Han gulped with terror as Shrike started toward him. He’d lashed out at the trader captain once before, two years ago, when he’d been feeling cocky after winning the gladitorial Free-For-All on Jubilar—and had been instantly sorry. The speed and strength of Garris’s returning blow had snapped his head back and split both lips so thoroughly that Dewlanna had had to feed him mush for a week until they healed.

With a snarl, Dewlanna stepped forward. Shrike’s hand dropped to his blaster. “You stay out of this, old Wookiee,” he snapped in a voice nearly as harsh as Dewlanna’s. “Your cooking isn’t that good.”

Han had already grabbed his friend’s furry arm and was forcibly holding her back. “Dewlanna, no!”

She shook off his hold as easily as she would have waved off an annoying insect and roared at Shrike. The captain drew his blaster, and chaos erupted.

“Noooo!” Han screamed, and leaped forward, his foot lashing out in an old street-fighting technique. His instep impacted solidly with Shrike’s breastbone. The captain’s breath went out in a great houf! and he went over backward. Han hit the deck and rolled. A tingler bolt sizzled past his ear.

“Larrad!” wheezed the captain as Dewlanna started toward him.

Shrike’s brother drew his blaster and pointed it at the Wookiee. “Stop, Dewlanna!”

His words had no more effect than Han’s. Dewlanna’s blood was up—she was in full Wookiee battle rage. With a roar that deafened the combatants, she grabbed Larrad’s wrist and yanked, spinning him around and snapping him in a terrible parody of a child’s “snap the whip” game. Han heard a crunch, mixed with several pops as tendons and ligaments gave way. Larrad Shrike shrieked, a high, shrill noise that carried such pain that the Corellian youth’s arm ached in sympathy.

Grabbing the blaster from his belt, Han snapped off a shot at the Elomin who was leaping forward, tingler ready and aimed at Dewlanna’s midsection. Brafid howled, dropping his weapon. Han was amazed that he’d managed to hit him, but he didn’t have long to wonder about the accuracy of his aim.

Shrike was staggering to his feet, blaster in hand, aimed squarely at Han’s head. “Larrad?” he yelled at the writhing heap of agony that was his brother. Larrad did not reply.

Shrike cocked the blaster and stepped even closer to Han. “Stop it, Dewlanna!” the captain snarled at the Wookiee. “Or your buddy Solo dies!”

Han dropped his blaster and put his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

Dewlanna stopped in her tracks, growling softly.

Shrike leveled the blaster, and his finger tightened on the trigger. Pure malevolent hatred was etched upon his features, and then he smiled, pale blue eyes glittering with ruthless joy. “For insubordination and striking your captain,” he announced, “I sentence you to death, Solo. May you rot in all the hells there ever were.”

As Han froze, expecting the bolt to fry him any moment, Dewlanna roared, shoved Han aside, and leaped for Shrike. The blaster’s energy beam caught her full in the chest, and she went down in a heap of charred fur and burned flesh.

“Dewlanna!” Han yelled in anguish. With a quickness he hadn’t known he possessed, he dived at Shrike, hitting the captain in a driving tackle around his knees. Shrike went over backward again, and this time his head impacted solidly with the deck. He sagged, out cold.

Han crawled back to his friend, turning her over gently, seeing the great hole the blaster beam had bored into her chest. He knew immediately that the wound was mortal.