Star Wars_ The Han Solo Trilogy 03_ Rebel Dawn - A. C. Crispin [116]
Then, carrying his boots, he tiptoed out through the dark, silent apartment, not wanting to wake Chewie, or Jarik, who was sleeping on the couch. He was almost at the door when he stubbed his toe on something unyielding and heard a plaintive electronic bleat.
ZeeZee! Han dropped his boots, swore aloud, then snarled at the antiquated droid, who was babbling apologies in its twittering, querulous voice.
“Shut up!” Han snarled, and slammed out the door. He was back a second later to collect his boots, and then gone again.
The Smuggler’s Rest was on the border of the Corellian section. Han arrived there before the place was even open, and had to buzz for the night-clerk. It suddenly occurred to him that he didn’t know what name Bria had registered under, but he’d barely begun to describe her, when the bored clerk brightened. “Oh her,” he said, licking his lips. “She expecting you, buddy?”
“Let’s just say she’ll be glad to see me,” Han said, sliding a credit piece across the counter.
“Okay, sure. Room 7A.”
Han went up in the ancient turbolift, and then walked down the dark, noisome hallway. He tapped on the door. Moments later, he heard her voice, sounding wide-awake. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me, Bria. Han,” he said.
There was a long pause, then the locks clicked and the door swung open into the darkness. “Come in with your hands up,” Bria’s voice said.
Han walked in as directed, and only when the door was closed behind him did the lights come on. He turned to find Bria wearing a nightshirt that was too short for her, her blaster in her hand. “What do you want?” Her voice was anything but friendly.
Han found it hard not to look at her long, shapely legs. “Uh … just wanted to talk to you. I’ve … I’m … reconsidering your proposition.”
“You are, eh?” She still didn’t look friendly, but at least she lowered the gun. “Okay, give me a minute.”
Grabbing her clothes, she disappeared into the ’fresher, and came out again a minute later, fully clothed, down to her boots.
Han nodded down at her right leg. “What’s in the boot?”
“Hold-out blaster,” she said, with a small, feral smile. “A nice little ladies’ model.”
“I see,” Han said. He sat down on the edge of the rumpled bed, feeling her warmth still amid the covers. Bria sprawled in the room’s single chair. “You go lookin’ for Mako after we … parted?”
“I made some inquiries,” she said, and her mouth twisted. “Found out why you were laughing when you walked away.”
“Yeah,” Han said. “Tough break for Mako. I don’t know what he’ll do now.” He cleared his throat. “Anyhow, I didn’t come here to talk about Mako. I’ve been thinking about your offer. Maybe I was too hasty. Let’s face it … I was sore about the way you dumped me. I had to get that outta my system, maybe.”
He hesitated, and she stared at him. Her hair was hanging in wisps around her face, and Han was glad to realize that it wasn’t all chopped off. She must have had it up in a tight bun earlier. She waved at him. “Go on.”
“So, uh … yeah. Maybe I shot my mouth off a little, earlier,” Han admitted. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
She widened her eyes. “No! You can’t mean it!”
Han resolutely ignored the sarcasm. “Anyhow … it won’t happen again. So … I want in. I’ll give my friends your proposition, and help train your pilots how to deal with the Ylesian atmosphere. I’ll bet some of the privateers would also want in. I’ll talk to ’em in return for what you promised me. Fifty percent of Teroenza’s treasure room, or seventy-five thousand credits worth of the spice, whichever is more.”
She considered. “And you’ll be civil?”
“Yeah,” Han said. “I’m always civil to business partners. And that’s all this is. Just … business.”
Bria nodded. “It’s a deal.” She leaned forward and offered her hand. “Just business.”