Star Wars_ The Han Solo Trilogy 03_ Rebel Dawn - A. C. Crispin [86]
The two groups drew nearer, then slowed uncertainly. Lando didn’t blame them. He wouldn’t want to be the first person to fire on Boba Fett, even at these odds. Chances are that the bounty hunter would take quite a few attackers with him.
“What’s going on?” a familiar strong alto bellowed from the back of one of the packs. Lando let out a gasp of relief. “Boba Fett, in the name of all the hells of Barab, what are you doing here?”
“Collecting a bounty,” the hunter replied. “No quarrel with you, Captain Renthal. I’ll take my bounty and a shuttle, and go.”
Lando filled his lungs, shouted, “Drea! It’s me.… Lando! Hey, am I glad to see—” Lando’s breath went out in a whoosh as the bounty hunter took one fast step backward and the butt of Fett’s blaster rifle connected with his solar plexus. The gambler doubled over, wheezing.
Slowly, the ranks of pirates parted, and Drea Renthal, pirate captain and Lando’s former girlfriend, emerged. She was a big, squarish woman of about forty-five, with fashionably striped silver and gold hair, a fair complexion, and the coldest gray eyes Lando had ever seen. Renthal wore her typical wild jumble of clothes—red striped stockings, a purple skirt kilted up on one side, a pink silk shirt and armored vest. Her short, spiky hair was half-hidden by an outrageous beret with a long, trailing orange feather.
Lando tried painfully to straighten up. He wanted to wave, but of course his arms were bound. Besides, Boba Fett would probably blast him for his temerity.
Renthal surveyed them, and said, “Lando, you never told me you had a bounty on your head. ”
Actually, Lando knew of several bounties on his head, in the Centrality, but this was Imperial space. “No bounty, Drea,” he called, his voice harsh and breathless. “I was just … in the wrong place … at the wrong time.”
Renthal looked back at the bounty hunter. “Fett, that true? No bounty on Calrissian?”
The hunter hesitated, then responded, “True. I have an old score with Calrissian, but it is … personal.”
Drea Renthal considered for a long moment. “In that case, Fett, you ought to be willing to let him go. Lando’s kind of … special … to me. I might lose a little sleep if I let you take him. Tell you what … let him go, and I’ll let you have the shuttle, free and clear.”
Boba Fett nodded. “Very well.” Without turning his head, he said, “Calrissian … go. We will meet again … someday.”
Lando felt Bria move away from him, giving him room to edge around her and leave. The gambler wanted more than anything to head for safety—Drea and her mob of cutthroats—but instead, he heard his own voice saying, “No. Drea, I can’t go without Lady Lavval. You can’t let Fett take her.”
Boba Fett wasn’t often taken aback, but he heard Lando Calrissian’s words with surprise—almost astonishment. He’d never figured Calrissian for anything more than a dandified coward. The bounty hunter glanced at the gambler, wondering if Calrissian was just blowing Tibanna gas, making an empty statement, but he could tell from the man’s set expression that he meant it—he wouldn’t go without Bria.
Fett’s gaze returned to Drea Renthal. How much did she care for Calrissian? It was obvious that the gambler was an old lover. But Renthal was a practical woman. One did not rise to the leadership of one of the largest pirate and mercenary fleets without being both pragmatic and ruthless. Perhaps Renthal would just cut Calrissian loose for his foolish stand—and over another woman, yet!
Renthal locked gazes with Calrissian and sighed. “Lando, honey, you’re cute and a good dancer, but you’re pushing me, here. Why should I give a regnuff’s patootie about this floozy? She your current girlfriend?”
“No,” Calrissian said. “There’s nothing between us, Drea. But Bria here is Han Solo’s girlfriend. He risked his life to save your Y-wings and Renthal’s Fist from being blasted by Peacekeeper