• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

Han’s face reflected a thunderstorm of bad moods as he strode across the debris-strewn floor of the mechanic bay. “I need my ship right now. Is she ready to fly?” Han said.

Lando put his hands at his side. “I was just making some repairs and modifications, old buddy. What’s the problem?”

“Who told you you could make any modifications?” Han looked unaccountably angry. “Chewie, we’ve got to fly right away. Why did you let this clown mess around with my engines?”

“Wait a minute, Han! This used to be my ship, you know,” Lando said, not knowing what had provoked such anger in his friend. “Besides, who rescued this ship from Kessel? Who saved your tail from the Imperial fleet?”

See-Threepio hastened stiffly into the mechanic bay. “Ah, greetings, General Calrissian,” he said.

Lando ignored the droid. “I lost the Lady Luck rescuing your ship. I’d think that deserves a little gratitude, don’t you? In fact, since I sacrificed my own ship to save your hide, I thought maybe you’d be grateful enough to give me back the Falcon.”

“Oh, my!” Threepio said. “That is an idea that might warrant some consideration, Master Solo.”

“Shut up, Threepio,” Han said without glancing in the droid’s direction.

“Looks like you’ve got an attitude problem, Han,” Lando said with a grin he knew would annoy his friend. But Han had stepped over the bounds of common courtesy with his snappish accusations, and Lando had no intention of letting him get away with it.

Han looked ready to explode. Lando couldn’t figure out what was bothering him. “My problem is you’ve been sabotaging my ship. I don’t ever want you touching her again, do you understand? Get your own ship. Seems to me that with the million-credit reward you got at the blob races on Umgul, you could buy just about any ship you want and stop messing around with mine.”

“An excellent idea, sir,” Threepio added helpfully. “With that amount of money, General Calrissian, you could indeed buy a fine ship.”

“Be quiet, Threepio,” Lando said, putting his hands on his hips. “I don’t want to buy another ship, old buddy.” He stressed the last two words with thick sarcasm. “If I can’t have the Lady Luck, I want the Falcon. Your wife is the Minister of State, Han. You can have the government provide you with any sort of transport you want—why not get yourself a new fighter right from the Calamarian shipyards?”

“I’m certain that could be arranged, sir,” Threepio agreed.

“Shut up, Threepio,” Han said again, keeping his eyes on Lando. “I don’t want any old ship. The Falcon is mine.”

Lando glowered at Han. “You won her from me in a sabacc game, and to tell you the truth—old buddy—I’ve always suspected you cheated in that game.”

Han became livid, backing away. “You’re accusing me of cheating? I’ve been called a scoundrel before, but never a cheat! In fact, it seems to me,” he said in a low, threatening voice, “that you won the Falcon yourself in a sabacc game before I came along. Didn’t you also win the Cloud City Tibanna gas mines from the former Baron Administrator in a sabacc game? What could you possibly have used as collateral for a bet like that? You’re a dirty no-good swindler, Lando. Admit it.”

“And you’re a pirate!” Lando said, stalking forward, his fists bunched at his side. He had made his reputation as an expert gambler.

Chewbacca growled from within the Falcon, making loud clangs and thumps as he extricated himself from the cramped passage. He stumbled down the entry ramp and stood gripping the piston supports.

As Han and Lando closed to within striking distance, Threepio wriggled in between them. “Excuse me, sirs, but might I make a suggestion? If indeed you both won the ship in a sabacc game, and if you are contesting the results, could you perhaps simply play another game of sabacc to settle this issue once and for all?” Threepio turned his glowing optical sensors first at Lando, then at Han.

“I just came down here to get my ship,” Han said, “but now you’ve made it into a point of honor.”

Lando glared at Han without flinching.