Star Wars_ The Han Solo Trilogy 01_ The Paradise Snare - A. C. Crispin [95]
Muuurgh nodded weakly. “Thanks to … Vykk … Han …”
Bria came running back into the cargo compartment. “I found it!”
Moments later Muuurgh’s pain was ebbing, and Mrrov and Bria were bandaging the wound in his side. “You’re going to have an awful scar, Muuurgh,” Bria said, sounding dismayed.
“Hunters show their scars proudly, on Togoria,” Mrrov said. “Muuurgh will heal, and he will have a scar everyone will envy.”
Suddenly the ship shuddered. Bria shouted, “Han! What was that?”
“Someone’s shooting at us!” he yelled from the bridge. “Someone get up here and man the weapons station! I need Muuurgh!”
Muuurgh struggled to get up. “No,” Mrrov said. “I will do it. Among my people, females have the technical expertise. I am an engineer. I will do it.”
Muuurgh opened his eyes, saw Bria’s doubtful expression, and said, “Believe her. Muuurgh was not a very good shot, anyway. Ask Pilot …”
He closed his eyes, feeling blackness waiting behind the lids. He could resist it no longer … so, with a sigh, Muuurgh let himself slide under …
Han glanced at the tall Togorian form that slid into the copilot’s seat beside him and started in surprise. “You’re not Muuurgh!”
“I am Mrrov,” the female Togorian introduced herself. She’d doffed her pilgrim’s robe, and her glorious white and orange-striped coat blazed like fire. “I will handle the weapons for you. Acquaint me with what we have, please. You will find I am a far better weapons officer than Muuurgh. In our species, females are the technicians and experts with instruments.” She glanced over at Han, and he saw that her slit-pupiled eyes were bright yellow. “Besides, Muuurgh is wounded, and in no shape for this.”
“Is he gonna be okay?” Han felt a stab of concern.
“He should be. My people are very strong and hardy. Bria—is that her name?” Han nodded. “Your Bria is with him. He is resting.”
“Okay,” Han said. “This baby doesn’t have a lot of weaponry, but it’s got some concussion missiles and a light laser cannon. Right down there. Laser cannon to your right, missile launchers to your left. Targeting computer is straight in front of you.”
“Very well.” After spending a moment checking the board before her, she nodded. “I can do this. Who shot at us?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Han said tightly, studying his readouts. “I don’t think the priests have surface-to-air stuff, but I’m hanged if I can see—”
He broke off with a whoop of laughter, just as the Talisman shuddered again. Mrrov looked at Han, who was still chuckling, as if he were crazy.
“It’s okay,” he said.
She pointed at the technical readout of their surrounding space. It showed several storm cells, safely removed in distance from their escape vector, but it also showed a small, teardrop-shaped craft rapidly gaining on the Talisman. “What do you mean, ‘okay’? There is someone pursuing us and shooting at us, and they are gaining!”
“Aahhhh … it’s just old Jalus Nebl in the Ylesian Dream,” Han said, waving a dismissive hand. “The priests must’ve ordered him to come up here and shoot our asses down.” He chuckled again.
Talisman lurched slightly. Han laughed again.
Mrrov was staring at him, obviously wondering if his mind had snapped from the strain. Han grinned at her cheerfully. “You don’t understand,” he said.
“No,” agreed Mrrov. “Would you care to explain it to me?”
“Sure. Jalus Nebl and I are friends. He wouldn’t shoot me down any more than I’d shoot him. So he’s firing his laser cannon, just missing us by a hair each time, making it look good. We’re gaining speed every minute, and soon, we’re gonna be out of the atmosphere, and five minutes after that, we’ll be out of the planet’s gravity well. We’re fine, Mrrov. Trust me.”
Mrrov’s whiskers twitched. “I believe I am beginning to understand. Your friend Jalus Nebl is putting on a show of attempting to shoot us down? So we have nothing to worry about?”
“Right,