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When Doole returned, Lando said, “My assistant wants to be sure you’ve been doing thorough maintenance on these ships. If you’re not taking care of them, they don’t make much of a defensive fleet. Let’s take a look inside one at random … say, that Corellian ship over there.”

Doole seemed taken by surprise, glancing at the Falcon. “That one? Uh, we have plenty of top-notch fighters you can check out. That one is something of a … piece of junk.”

Lando waggled his finger. “If you choose the ship for us, Moruth, that contradicts the whole point of a random inspection, doesn’t it? Open this one up. Go on.”

Reluctantly, Doole worked the external controls that dropped the Falcon’s ramp. Lando took the lead, followed by Luke, while Artoo puttered so closely behind Doole that he nearly ran over the Rybet’s heels.

Inside, Lando strode to the cockpit, ostensibly to check out the systems. Running his fingers lovingly over the stained, worn surfaces, he flicked a few switches. “Ion-flux stabilizer checks out as optimal, so does the stasis-field generator. Should we go back and check out the power converter? Those things are notorious for breaking down in Corellian freighters.”

Lando backed down the narrow corridor leading from the cockpit to the central living section of the ship. Turning left toward the entry ramp, he stepped carefully on the main deck plates. From the control panels he had unlatched the hidden locks, and when he stomped on the appropriate plates with his boot heel, they popped up, revealing the seven secret compartments Han had personally installed as spice-smuggling bins beneath the floor.

“Caught you, Doole, you bastard!” Lando grabbed him by the yellow cravat at his throat. “What have you done with Han and Chewbacca?”

Doole seemed completely astonished, flailing his splayed hands in the air. “What are you talking about?” he croaked. As Lando glared down into the Rybet’s huge eyes, Doole slipped one of his hands into his waistcoat and yanked free a small “hold-out” blaster pistol. Luke saw it and reacted instantly, shoving with his mind and using the Force to hurl Moruth Doole away from Lando.

The blaster went off, sending a deadly beam ricocheting around the Falcon’s corridor. Doole fell backward, then scrambled to his feet. He fired at them again, but his mechanical eye had no time to focus, and the beam went wide. Doole dove down the ramp, bellowing for the guards. His mechanical eye fell off, clanging and rolling across the floor. He scrambled after it in a panic, feeling blindly with his hands.

Luke smacked the door controls, raising the ramp and sealing the hatch, “We should have kept him as a hostage,” he said. “Now it’s going to be a lot more difficult to get out of here.”

Outside, Doole raised the alarm. Guards scrambled through the parked ships, drawing blasters, fastening their armor.

“Artoo, get to the computer!” Luke said.

Lando jumped into the chair behind the controls. “I doubt we can do anything for Han anymore. We need to get back and tell Leia. She can bring a full-scale occupation force to Kessel. We’ll go over this place with a high-res scanner.”

“If we get out of here alive,” Luke said.

“Artoo,” Lando called, “jack into the copilot’s computer and tie into the hangar controls.” The astromech droid chittered his willingness to help and rolled toward the navicomp console.

Outside in the hangar, security horns sounded. People ran around every which direction, not knowing where to go. Luke saw immediately that these mercenaries had far less experience working together than the sloppiest Imperial regiment. But the moment Lando lifted the ship off the landing-pad floor, everyone had an unmistakable target.

“Artoo, get that door field down!” Lando shouted.

Using maneuvering thrusters, he edged the ship forward, picking up speed as they rose over the other parked fighters. Pilots scrambled into their ships, ready for a space battle. In orbit around the moon, the capital ships did not yet seem aware of the situation.

Lando accelerated toward the wide hangar opening to space.