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“Hey, the pilot who flew it back here for me said it’s a really fast ship,” Lando said, sounding defensive.

“Really?” Han looked doubtful. He shrugged. “Well, you never know till you try her out. Shall we go for a spin?”

“Sure,” Lando said.

Minutes later Han sat at the controls of Lando’s new acquisition, savoring the Falcon’s response as she lifted on her repulsore, then he engaged the sublight drive. He still couldn’t believe what he’d seen in her engine room—this ship boasted a military-grade hyperdrive! Oh, you honey!

Her sublight speeds were good, too. Han sent the Falcon hurtling upward in a steep rush. The resulting surge of power exhilarated him, but he was careful not to show it. “Not bad,” he said indifferently. “But I’ve seen better. Let’s see how she maneuvers.”

Quickly he took the Falcon up out of Nar Shaddaa’s atmosphere, then through the opening in the shield, all the while giving the correct responses to traffic control. Once free of the gravity well and past the floating obstacle course of the derelict ships, Han sent the Falcon into a dizzying series of spins, rolls, and flips.

“Hey!” Lando protested, gulping audibly. “You got a passenger here, don’t forget! You want me to lose my breakfast?”

Han grinned at him. He was tempted to ask Lando how much he wanted for the ship, but he knew it would be more than he could possibly afford. Wild schemes about getting the Hutts to buy the Falcon so he could fly it regularly—and then maybe steal it, someday—raced through his mind.

But he didn’t want Jabba or Jiliac owning the Falcon. They wouldn’t appreciate this beauty, this work of art.

Han quickly checked out the weaponry. Her legs are good, but she could use more muscle … Only one light laser cannon, in a top gun turret. Not enough, Han thought.

As though Lando were reading Han’s thoughts, the gambler said, “The pilot that brought me here said it might need some more weaponry to be a really good smuggler. What do you think?”

“I think if this were my ship, I’d install another gun turret and some quad lasers, as well as a repeating blaster in the belly, to cover quick getaways,” Han said. Maybe some concussion missiles, too …

“Huh,” Lando said. “I’ll have to think about that. But it is a fast ship, isn’t it?”

Han nodded grudgingly. “Yeah, she’s got a pretty good set of legs on her, Lando.” He surreptitiously patted the pilot’s console. Oh, you sweetheart …

A few minutes later Lando cleared his throat. “I thought the object of taking it out was that you were going to start teaching me to pilot, Han.”

“Oh … oh, yeah,” Han said. “I was just … checking her out. So I could teach you all her little quirks and stuff.”

“You sound like this thing is alive,” Lando said.

“Well, pilots get to think of their ships sort of like that,” Han admitted. “They become like a … friend. You’ll see.”

“Don’t forget, the Falcon is my ship,” Lando said, with a slight edge in his voice.

“Of course,” Han said, carefully casual. “Now, listen here. We’re going to start at sublight speeds. That’s where most of the maneuvering expertise comes. See that lever? Pull that lever and we’ll go into hyperdrive, and that’s not something you want to do less you’ve got a course laid in. So … don’t touch that lever. Got it?”

Lando leaned forward intently. “Got it …”

Thousands of light-years away, Teroenza, High Priest of Ylesia, stood in the middle of Colony Three, surveying the damage from a dawn terrorist raid. Nearly a dozen bodies were sprawled around, most of them his own security guards. Blaster marks scored the factory buildings. The door to the mess hall was slagged. A crew was finishing putting out a fire in the Administration Building. The smell of burning fought with the hothouse odor of the wet, steaming jungle.

The High Priest snorted nervously. All this from a slave raid. Not a raid to gain slaves, a raid to rescue them.

The troops had been human, most of them. Teroenza had seen their images on his communications monitors from his headquarters at Colony One. Two ships had spiraled down through Ylesia’s treacherous