Star Wars_ The Han Solo Trilogy 03_ Rebel Dawn - A. C. Crispin [4]
The friends stepped off the glidewalk back at the registration area, and stood there a moment, eyeing each other. Han studied his friend, realizing that Lando looked very prosperous—the gambling tables out in the Oseon must be loaded with easy marks. The gambler was wearing an expensive outfit made from Askajian fabric, the best in the galaxy. A new black and silver cape swung behind him, draped in the latest fashion.
Han smiled. The last time he’d seen Lando, the gambler had barely begun growing a mustache. Now his facial adornment was mature, though trimmed. It lent his features a rather piratical air. Han pointed at it. “I see you decided to keep the lip-fur.”
Lando stroked the mustache proudly. “Every woman I’ve met has been most complimentary,” he said. “I should have done it long ago.”
“Some people need all the help they can get,” Han teased. “It’s a shame you don’t have my way with the ladies, old pal.”
Lando snorted derisively.
Han looked around. “So … where’s your little red-eyed droid buddy? Don’t tell me you went and lost Vuffi Raa in a sabacc game?”
Lando shook his head. “Han, it’s a long story. To tell it properly, I need a tall glass of something refreshing in front of me.”
“Well, what’s the short version, then?” Han asked. “Don’t tell me the little guy got tired of calling you ‘Master’ and decided he could do better selling his Class Two abilities somewhere else?”
Lando shook his head, his expression suddenly serious. “Han, you’re not going to believe this, but Vuffi Raa decided to go back to his people and grow up. Fulfill his destiny.”
Han grimaced. “Huh? He’s a droid. What do you mean, destiny?”
“Vuffi Raa is … was … a baby starship. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. He comes from a … unique … species. Gigantic droid-ships that roam the stars. Sentient, but not biological, life-forms.”
Han stared at his friend. “Lando, you been sniffing ryll? You sound like you spent the whole day in the bar.”
Lando held up a hand. “It’s the truth, Han. You see, there was this evil sorcerer named Rokur Gepta, who turned out to be a Croke, and these vacuumbreathers, and a big fight in this huge Star Cave, and—”
“Cheater!” A deep, raspy voice shouted, startling the friends. “Get him! Don’t let him play! That’s Han Solo, and he cheats at sabacc!”
Han wheeled around to find an enraged Barabel female bearing down on him. The alien limped slightly from a stiff knee, but she was closing at a respectable clip, massive teeth bared. Barabels were huge, black reptiloids, and Han had only met a few of them in his travels. And only one female.
This female, as a matter of fact.
Han gulped and his hand went down to his blaster, only to slap impotently against his thigh. Damnation! He began backing up, holding up his hands placatingly. “Now, Shallamar …” he began.
Lando, always quick on the uptake, made sure he was nowhere near the Barabel’s approach vector. “Security!” he shouted. “We need security here! Somebody call security!”
The Barabel sputtered and hissed with rage. “He uses skifters! Cheats! Arrest him!”
Han backed up until he bumped into one of the registration tables, then, one-handed, he vaulted it. The Barabel’s teeth flashed. “Coward! Come out from behind there! Arrest him!”
“Now, Shallamar,” Han said. “I beat you fair and square that time. Holding grudges isn’t very sportsmanlike.…”
With a bellow, she rushed him—
—only to stop and fall heavily to the floor as a tangle-field encased her feet. Shallamar thrashed, slapping the carpet with her tail, cursing and bellowing.
Han looked over at the hotel security forces, and drew a long breath of relief.
Ten minutes later, with the Barabel still under restraints, Han, Lando and Shallamar were in the security offices, facing the security chief. Shallamar was sulking, because the chief had sensor-scanned Han from the