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Han rolled his eyes back. This was a far cry from traditional medical droids who were programmed specifically with the patient’s comfort in mind.

Han tried to move. Around him the prison medical center was white and cold, with gleaming medical appliances and empty bacta tanks mounted on the wall. Han vaguely sensed several guards standing near the doors. When he turned his head, the medical droid reached out with cold metal hands to clamp against his temples. “You must remain motionless. This will hurt. A great deal. Now relax—immediately!”

Out of sight on the other side of the room, Chewbacca let out a great roar of pain. Han was relieved to know the Wookiee was still alive. Before treatment, at least.

Han winced as the medical droid began to work on him.

Chewbacca shook him awake with a hairy, enthusiastic, and grateful hug. Han groaned and blinked his eyes, but the room was so dim he had to stare for a few minutes before anything came into focus. His entire body felt as if it had been beaten instead of healed.

Chewbacca groaned and hugged him again. “Take it easy, Chewie! You’ll send me back to that medical droid!” Han said. Instantly, the Wookiee released his grip.

Han mentally assessed how he felt. He sat up, flexed his arms, then got to his feet. Two, no three of his ribs, as well as his left leg, tingled with the maddening bee stings that indicated where bone knitters had repaired the fractures. Han remained weak, but replacement/nutrient solutions had probably brought him back up to nominal levels.

Chewbacca also looked scruffy and haggard. Patches of fur had been shaved from his body, and Han could discern lumpy scars where medical droids had made quick patchwork with no finesse. After treatment the two of them had been tossed into this dank place.

Finally, Han took a deep whiff of the air inside the chamber. “What died in here?” He suddenly realized that wasn’t just a joking comment.

Chewbacca answered by pointing to the hulking form that occupied a third of the space in the cell. Han blinked again to be sure his vision was adjusting properly.

The thing was huge and hideous—part crustacean, part arachnid, and judging from the rows of dagger teeth, entirely carnivorous. Its claw hands were as big as a human was tall, and its jointed body armor was covered with scablike bumps. The only good thing about it was that it was dead. The carcass reeked.

The first time Han had been near a rancor, he had been blind from hibernation sickness after being thawed in Jabba’s palace. Jabba fed the monster below his throne room with his enemies—or anyone else at random. Han had seen many more rancors on the planet Dathomir during his courtship of Princess Leia. One of the beasts had somehow died here in the Imperial Correction Facility. The rancor had decayed as far as it was going to, and then mummified the rest of the way.

The prison itself, from what Han knew of it, was a cross between a zoo and a correctional facility, because the different life-forms had different degrees of sentience. The only factor in common was that they were all violent.

Their cell was gigantic, as far as cells went—large enough to hold the rancor and give it room to maneuver. Brittle, moldy bones lay scattered around the floor, many of which had been gnawed and pulverized, as if in a desperate attempt by the starving rancor to find more food. Green and blue smears of slime oozed down the walls. Tiny dripping sounds were the only noises Han could hear.

“How long have we been here, Chewie? Do you know?”

Chewbacca didn’t know.

Han ran it over again in his mind. They had come to Kessel, they had identified themselves both by name and with a New Republic call sign. A fleet of ships had come out to attack them—TIE fighters and X-wings and a motley bunch of other ships. Obviously, the people in charge of Kessel were up to something, and they didn’t want the New Republic to know about it.

Then he remembered scarecrow-like Skynxnex, who had boarded the crashed Falcon. Skynxnex