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Boarding Slave I, he took off, checking his departure vector, swooping low over the scorching desert. Fett glanced down at those featureless expanses, those dunes that rippled, almost like the waves of an ocean. He’d rarely been to Tatooine, and he couldn’t imagine ever returning. What a desolate place. He knew that there was supposed to be life in the deserts, but here, there was nothing. Just unmarked sand.

But wait … what was that?

Fett leaned closer to his viewscreen as Slave I swooped over a huge pit that yawned open at the bottom of a depression in the sand. Fett thought he saw something moving within the pit … spiky fronds or perhaps tentacles.

Wonder what that thing is? he thought, sending Slave I soaring up into the atmosphere. Guess there is something living in that desert, after all.

Moments later the stark brownish world was far behind the bounty hunter, so distant it was not even a memory …

One week after leasing the Bria from Lando, Han Solo was cursing the little freighter, himself, Lando, and the universe in general.

“Chewie, old pal,” Han said, during a moment of uncompromising honesty, “I am an idiot for picking this ship. She’s nothing but a pain in the ass.”

“Hrrrrrrrnnnnnn,” rumbled Chewie, in complete agreement.

The Bria needed considerable work, they discovered from almost the very beginning. She’d flown fine during their “test spin,” but as soon as the lease was finalized, the problems erupted like geysers on the methane moons of Thermon. The first time they took their new acquisition out on a smuggling run, for the first ten minutes the ship worked fine … then the aft stabilizer shorted out, and they had to have her towed back to Nar Shaddaa via tractor beam. They fixed the stabilizer, aided by Lando’s little tentacled droid, Vuffi Raa (whom, it seemed, was the Millennium Falcon’s main pilot these days), and then tried again.

This time the bow stabilizer blew.

Han and Chewie fixed the Bria again, cursing and sweating through the repairs, then tried again. And again. Sometimes their little SoroSuub Starmite worked fine; other times they were lucky if they could limp back to Lando’s shipyard for repairs.

The Bria’s navicomputer developed amnesia and her hyperdrive went on vacation. On her good days, Han was such an expert pilot that he could coax a fair turn of speed out of her, but nearly every time they took her out on a test run, some new problem surfaced in the ship.

Han complained to Lando, who only pointed out that the lease Han had signed said “as is,” and that he’d made no guarantees about the ship’s spaceworthiness. Also, Lando pointed out—correctly—he was leasing the little Starmite to Han at a very reasonable price.

Han couldn’t argue with that, but it didn’t help when the Bria just quit cold, as she did at least half the time.

Han mentioned his ship woes to Mako, who introduced his friend to yet another of his acquaintances.

“Master starship mechanic, pilot, and repair tech Shug Ninx, meet Han Solo and his partner Chewbacca. They got a ship needs some work.”

Shug Ninx was humanoid, but though he looked mostly human, Han could tell immediately that he had some alien blood. He was tall, with spiky brownish-blond hair and pale blue eyes. The skin on the lower half of his face was mottled with pale spots, and his hands only had two fingers plus an extra joint in his opposable thumb. It gave him great dexterity when fiddling with machinery.

Han could tell from the man’s wary expression that Shug Ninx had frequently met with suspicion because of his mixed blood. Most of that distaste had probably come from Imperial officials. They regarded anyone who was a “half-breed” as a lower-class citizen.

Han held out his hand, smiling. “Pleased to meet you, Shug,” he said. “Think you can help me get this bucket of bolts up and running?”

“We can sure give it a try,” Shug said, visibly relaxing. “Bring her over to my spacebarn today, and we’ll check her out.”

To reach Shug’s facility, Han had to fly the Bria down