Star Wars_ The New Jedi Order 04_ Agents of Chaos 01_ Hero's Trial - James Luceno [47]
The pitching surface carrying Chewie away.
Anakin hurrying to the bridge, weaving the upended Falcon through quickly narrowing alleys and around collapsing buildings. A fleeting view of Chewie, his back to the Falcon and his long arms upraised to Dobido, a plummeting streak of fire.
The arrival of Tosi-karu.
A searing wind that burned Han’s face and hands and sent Chewie flying and buildings toppling. The Falcon’s shields groaning in protest.
Chewie once more, his blood-matted coat … regaining his footing … standing high on a pile of rubble, roaring defiantly at the seized moon, as if to hurl it back where it belonged.
The Falcon, still in Anakin’s hands, clawing for space, abandoning Chewie to fate.
Han’s first utterance to his son: “You left him.”
The memory of those words as heartrending, as piercing, as Chewie’s death. A condemnation uttered in grief, and impossible all these months later to rescind.
Hollowed by anguish, Han squeezed his eyes shut and balled his hands. How long might he remain thus: still dangling from the Falcon’s ramp, arms extended to Chewie—
Beside him, Roa stirred, yawned loudly, and stretched his arms over his head. He blinked and swiveled to the droid at the navicomputer.
“Are we nearly there?”
“The ship will shortly revert to realspace, Master Roa.”
Roa grinned at Han. “Like old times, isn’t it, you and me on a run?”
Han forced himself from harsh reflection, his blood rushing like acid through his veins. “I remember that first Kessel Run like it was yesterday.”
Roa’s smile became enigmatic. “Speaking of Kessel, I’ve been meaning to ask you something. Now, granted, stories can change quite a bit in traveling from Tatooine to Bonadan. But the way I heard it, you claimed to have made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs.”
Han said nothing in a blank-faced definite way.
“Well?” Roa pressed.
“Ancient history, Roa. And that was always my worst subject.”
“Think hard. I’ll grade you on a curve.”
Han showed the palms of his hands. “Look, Jabba was breathing down my neck for dumping a load of spice. Chewie and I needed the work, and sometimes you do or say whatever you have to.”
“But it’s true—you actually made it under twelve?”
Han brought his fingertips to his chest. “Would I make up something like that? When I brag, I mean every word of it.”
Roa regarded him for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Ah, Han, whatever became of those days? Whatever became of chasing fortune and glory?”
“There’s no future in it.” Han gave his head a quick shake. “Still, the idea that decent guys like Reck would willingly throw in with the enemy … The Yuuzhan Vong make the Hutts seem like schoolyard bullies. They make Palpatine seem like an enlightened despot.”
“Perhaps. But the winning side is paying better,” Roa said soberly. “Besides, credits don’t have to come from clean hands to be appreciated by Reck and his ilk.”
Han smiled. “You’ve become quite the philosopher in your old age.”
Roa’s shoulders heaved in a shrug. “When your partner dies, you suddenly have a lot of time to think.” He looked at Han. “You’ve probably found that out.”
Han said nothing.
The navicomputer chimed.
“Master Roa, we are emerging from hyperspace,” the droid announced.
Roa and Han swiveled to the control console to prepare the Happy Dagger for sublight.
“Sublight engaged,” Roa said shortly.
Han flipped a final switch. “Shields are enabled.”
Elongated, blue-shifted light tunneled them into realspace. Abruptly, the lines collapsed to pinpoints, rotating slightly before coalescing into a star field, each distant sun like a piercing to an alternate reality. Save for a brief shudder, the ship executed the transition smoothly.
“Entering the Anobis system,” the droid reported.
“Anobis?” Han said in surprise. “This place is the back end of nowhere. I can’t