Star Wars_ The Han Solo Trilogy 02_ The Hutt Gambit - A. C. Crispin [54]
Drugged? Oh, no!
A flat, inhuman voice spoke to him from just behind his right shoulder. “Stand still, Solo.”
Han discovered that he could do nothing else than stand perfectly still. Inwardly he was raging, his anger as hot and explosive as star-plasma, but outwardly his body was completely obedient to that artificially amplified voice.
Who’s got me? What does he want?
Han concentrated every muscle, every sinew, every neuron of his being into moving his hands, his arms, his legs. Sweat gathered on his forehead, trickled down into his eyes. But he couldn’t so much as twitch a finger.
The hand left his arm, went down to his thigh to unfasten the leather strap that held his blaster secure in its holster. Han could feel the weight against his thigh lighten as his attacker disarmed him. Raging, he tried again to move, but he might as well have tried to push a ship into hyperspace using his own muscle power.
He tried to speak, tried to say, “Who are you?” but that proved beyond him, too. All he could do was to breathe, in and out, blink his eyes, and obey.
If Han had been a Wookiee, he’d have howled, long and loud.
After relieving Han of his blaster, his captor walked around him. Finally, Han got a look at him. Bounty hunter! his mind screamed.
Beat-up greenish-gray Mandalorian armor, a helmet that completely hid his features, and armed to the teeth. He even had black and white braided scalps of some kind hanging from his right shoulder. Han wondered what the man’s name was. He must be one of the elite—a bounty hunter who only went after “tough” cases.
The Corellian supposed that he ought to be flattered, but it seemed a dubious honor at best.
The bounty hunter went on to pat Han down, looking for more weaponry. He found Han’s multitool in his pocket, and confiscated that. The Corellian tried again to move, but he could do absolutely nothing but inhale and exhale. His breathing was loud and harsh in his own ears.
The figure in the Mandalorian armor glanced up at him. “Don’t waste your energy, Solo. I jabbed you with a dose of a handy little potion they’ve come up with on Ryloth. Expensive, but for the bounty they’re paying, you’re worth it. You won’t be able to move, except at my command, for several hours. It varies from subject to subject. By the time you can move under your own power, we’ll be aboard my ship and halfway to Ylesia.”
Han stared at the bounty hunter, suddenly realizing he’d seen that figure in Mandalorian armor before, a long time ago. Where? He concentrated, but the memory wouldn’t surface.
Having finished his search, the bounty hunter straightened. “All right. Turn around.”
Han found himself turning.
“Now walk. Turn right at the mouth of the alley.”
The Corellian raged helplessly as his body obeyed every command. Right-left, right-left. He was walking, and the bounty hunter was right behind him. Han could catch occasional glimpses of him with his peripheral vision.
They walked down the street of Nar Shaddaa, and for a moment Han hoped that they might encounter one of his friends, even, possibly, Chewie. Surely someone would notice what was happening to him!.
But although many of the denizens of Nar Shaddaa watched bounty hunter and prize walk past, nobody even spoke to them. Han didn’t really blame them. This bounty hunter, whoever he was, was a different sort than the ones he’d dealt with before. This guy was skilled, clever, and extremely dangerous. Anyone who interfered with him would undoubtedly suffer dire consequences.
Right-left, right-left, right-left.
The bounty hunter turned right at the intersection leading to the nearest transport tube. Han knew where they must be heading—the closest public landing platform. The bounty hunter must have a ship waiting there.
Obediently, Han stepped into the transport tube. He tried again to move. Just let him wiggle even a finger or a toe! But it was hopeless. The public transport system consisted of small capsules that