Star Wars_ The New Jedi Order 04_ Agents of Chaos 01_ Hero's Trial - James Luceno [29]
Thanks to a group of outlaw techs who operated in the Corporate Sector, the Falcon was soon sporting augmented defensive shields, heavy-duty acceleration compensators, oversize thruster ports, and a late-model sensor suite, as well. Back then, the ship had had the distinction of violating the Corporate Sector Authority’s performance-profile Waivers List in more ways than any ship of its class.
While the Falcon was on Kashyyyk during the Yevethan crisis, Jowdrrl had retrofit a quartet of transparent optical transducer panels to enhance port and aft visibility. Chewie’s cousin had also designed the cockpit’s autotracking fire controllers for the gun turrets.
More recently, as hostilities with remnant Imperial factions had begun to wane—and through no fault of Han’s—the Falcon had slowly become a kinder, gentler ship. Routine maintenance at the hands of a well-meaning but bumbling shipyard boss on Coruscant had resulted in a near restoration. Cables had been tagged and bundled, mechanicals shock-mounted, electricals grounded and pulse-shielded. A Sienar Systems augmenter had been added to the drive matrix, a Mark 7 generator to the tractor beam array, a Series 401 motivator to the hyperdrive. Sensor lenses had been replaced, dings hammered out, holds recarpeted … Han had nearly gone berserk.
He liked that the ship wore all the bumps and bruises that had shaped her, much as he might have worn, had it not been for bacta treatments and synthflesh. He sometimes wondered what he might look like if he’d let all the wounds scar like the one on his chin, the result of a knife slash received in another lifetime.
The ultimate damage to the Falcon had been done a mere six months ago, however, with Chewie’s death. What she lacked now, and what was likely to keep her grounded for an indeterminate time, no modification could offset.
Overcome by sudden grief, Han stood motionless below the starboard hexagonal docking ring, lost in time. The Falcon was so laden with memories, such a chronicle of his and Chewie’s adventures and misadventures, that he could scarcely bring himself to look at her, much less board her. But after a moment he entered an authorization code into a handheld remote, and the ship’s ramp lowered toward him, as if daring him to enter.
When he did so, he was like a man relearning to walk.
The ramp led directly to the ship’s circular ring corridor. Han stopped at the intersection and ran his hand over the corridor’s now unblemished padding. In the past five years, the Falcon had become such a spiffy ship. The floor grating had been replated, the interior lights worked, and there was always food in the galley and something fragrant in the air. Once utilized to conceal loads of spice or personnel, the shielded smuggling compartments just forward of the passageway to the ladder well had of late housed luggage for family outings, or pieces of folk art Leia had purchased for their home on Coruscant.
Han moved past the outrigger cockpit connector and deeper into the ship. A year back, thinking vaguely about returning the Falcon to stock, he had made a start on stripping her of many of the add-ons. The YT-1300 was a classic, after all, nearly as valuable a collector’s item as the J-type 327 Nubian. And for all her rattles, squeaks, and carbon-scoring, she was in fine shape—not to mention of considerable historical interest.
One of the first things to go had been the concussion missile launchers in the jaws, which had always interfered with the operation of the cargo-loading mandibles. But that, of course, was before the Yuuzhan Vong had appeared out of nowhere to present the galaxy with a terrible new threat. Who could say how many besides Chewie would have died in the Outer Rim had he removed the quad lasers.
Han stepped down into the main forward