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Han nodded, and counted out credit vouchers equaling fifteen hundred credits, then handed them to Lando. “Take your time, buddy. No hurry.”

Lando gave his friend a grin as they approached the bar. “Thanks, Han.”

“Hey … that sabacc pot added to my other winnings … well, I can afford it.” The Corellian felt physically tired, but so exhilarated that he knew he couldn’t sleep—not yet. He had to savor his victory, his ownership of the Falcon, just a little bit longer.

“Well, I’m headin’ back tomorrow. No reason to stick around, and Chewie’ll be wondering how I am.”

Lando glanced across the bar and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I see at least two reasons to stick around.”

Han followed his friend’s glance, saw the two women who were leaving the bar through the lobby exit. One was tall and full-bodied, with short black hair, the other was little more than a girl, slender, with long white hair. He shook his head. “Lando, you never quit. That tall one could put you on your rear, she’s built like a null-gee wrestler, and the other is an invitation to a nice jail cell for corrupting a minor.”

Lando shrugged. “Well, if not those two, then there are plenty of other lovely ladies here in Cloud City. And I want to check out the business opportunities here. I kind of like the place.”

Han grinned smugly at his friend. “Suit yourself. Myself, I can’t wait to get home and take my ship out for a spin.” He signaled the robo-bartender. “What’s your pleasure, my friend?”

Lando rolled his eyes. “Polanis red for me, and a nice shot of poison for you.”

Han laughed.

“So … where are you going first in your new ship?” Lando asked.

“I’m gonna keep a promise I made to Chewie almost three years ago and take him to see his family on Kashyyyk,” Han said. “With the Falcon I ought to be able to slip past those Imp patrols, no sweat.”

“How long has it been since he was on Kashyyyk?”

“Almost fifty-three years,” Han said. “A lot could have happened in that time. He left a father, some cousins, and a lovely young Wookiee female behind. ’Bout time he went home and checked up on ’em.”

“Fifty years?” Lando shook his head. “I can’t think of any human woman that would wait fifty years for me.…”

“I know,” Han said. “And apparently Chewie never did have an understanding with Mallatobuck. I warned him he’d better expect to find her married and a grandmother.”

Lando nodded, and, when the drinks arrived, raised his in a toast. Han lifted his glass of Alderaanian ale. “To the Millennium Falcon,” Lando said. “The fastest hunk of junk in the galaxy. You take care of her, now.”

“To the Falcon,” Han echoed. “My ship. May she fly fast and free, and outrun every Imp vessel in existence.”

Solemnly, they clinked their glasses, then together, they drank.

It was a sultry day on Nal Hutta, but, then, almost every day was sultry there. Sultry, rainy, damp and polluted … that was Nal Hutta. But the Hutts liked it that way; they loved their adopted homeworld. “Nal Hutta” meant “Glorious Jewel” in Huttese.

But one Hutt was too intent on his holo-cast unit to even notice the weather. Durga, the new leader of the Besadii clan since his parent Aruk’s untimely death six months ago, had eyes and attention only for the full-sized holo-image projected into his office.

Two months after Aruk’s death, Durga had hired a team of the best forensic examiners in the Empire to journey to Nal Hutta and conduct a rigorous autopsy on his parent’s bloated corpse. He’d had Aruk frozen, then placed in a stasis field, because Durga was convinced that his parent had not died from natural causes.

When the examiners had arrived, they’d spent several weeks taking samples of every kind of tissue to be found in the Hutt leader’s massive corpse, and running tests on them. Their early results had turned up nothing, but Durga insisted that they keep on looking—and he was the one paying, so the forensic specialists did as ordered.

Now Durga stared at the coalescing holo-image of the leader