Star Wars_ The Han Solo Trilogy 02_ The Hutt Gambit - A. C. Crispin [133]
Somehow the sounds of those loud, hissing breaths was ominous. Han swallowed and didn’t make a sound.
Greelanx said, in a deliberately bright, pleasant tone that was supposed to sound casual, but instead sounded terrified, “Lord, what an unexpected pleasure! The Outer Rim is honored by your presence. I gather you wish to conduct an inspection. You must understand that we have just recently been engaged in battle, so—”
“Greelanx,” said a deep, mechanically enhanced voice that made Han’s skin crawl, “you are as stupid as you are greedy. Did you imagine that the High Command would remain unaware of your treachery?”
Now Greelanx made no attempt to hide his fear. “Lord, please! You don’t understand, I was ord—” His voice broke off in a choked cry. Han’s eyes widened, and he wouldn’t have opened that door into Greelanx’s office for all the dragon pearls in the galaxy.
Silence, except for that loud, harsh breathing. Silence, for many seconds. Then … a heavy thump as something landed on the thick carpet. The voice said, “Ah, but I understand perfectly, Admiral.”
The heavy footsteps came again, passed the door where Han was hiding, did not pause. Then came the sound of the doorseal activating.
Silence.
Han waited a good five minutes before he dared to unseal the door and peer out. He wasn’t particularly surprised to find Greelanx sprawled on the carpet. He checked for a pulse, found none, which also wasn’t surprising.
What was surprising was that there wasn’t a mark on the body. When Han hadn’t heard a blaster, he’d assumed the visitor had used a vibroblade. An expert assassin could use one to kill with little blood, and no struggle.
But Greelanx didn’t have a mark on him …
Han stood there, looking down at the admiral’s dead features, which were frozen in a look of utter terror. He shivered. Who was that guy?
Han walked over to the wall, took a cursory glance at the lockup, but it was as he’d expected—a good unit, retinally activated. And even if he were to dig Greelanx’s eyeball out of its socket—a grisly task, all right—the admiral had already been dead too long. The retinal patterns wouldn’t work right.
I’m gettin’ outta here … Han decided. He walked back, stepped over Greelanx’s outflung hand, and then stopped when something his toe had kicked rolled across the carpet.
Han stooped, grabbed it exultantly. A Krayt dragon pearl! Small, but it seemed, to the naked eye, flawless. Opalescent black. A valuable color.
Sealing the jewel in an inside pocket, Han hurried out.
Ten minutes later he’d finished making his preparations for his escape. He stood by the hatch on the lifepod deck, hastily finishing a rewiring job on the pod-ejection controls. Then he pressed a button, and the lifepod hatch hissed open softly.
He froze as he heard a step, then a familiar voice. “Stop right there, Han. Turn around … slowly.”
Han did so, and found, as he’d expected from the voice, his old friend Tedris Bjalin.
The man stood there, holding a blaster aimed at Han. “What are you doing here? I saw you in the corridor, saw you go into the admiral’s office. Why were you talking to the admiral? What’s going on?”
They’re going to think I murdered Greelanx, Han realized. They’ll shoot me first and ask questions later!
“Hey, Tedris, take it easy,” he said, smiling crookedly. He took a slow, careful step forward. “You know you couldn’t shoot your old pal.”
“Stop it right there, Solo,” Bjalin said, but his hand wasn’t quite steady on the blaster’s grip. They had, after all, been close friends. “What are you doing wearing that uniform? Who are you—”
“Hey, pal, you got questions, let’s go somewhere and talk about this,” Han said. “I can answer every—”
Breaking off in midword, Han flung himself at Tedris, using a very dirty Corellian street-fighting trick. Bjalin went down, then lay on the deck, wheezing for breath, his eyes accusing. Han stooped down, appropriated his old friend