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Boss B laughed boomingly. “I have to say, Solo, I expected a younger man.”

“Yeah, well, I used to be one.”

“As did I,” Boss B conceded. “In any event, after I learned that you were bound for the Bet’s Off—where I already knew Bossk and his comrades to be—I simply relayed word to the Trandoshan that an old rival of his had turned up. It wasn’t difficult to predict where things would go from there.”

“That’s your idea of hospitality, huh?” Han said.

“Come, Solo, you said yourself that you enjoyed the fight.”

Han snorted. “You planning to show yourself or are we going to have to play ‘name that voice’?”

Not three meters in front of Han, a shroud field dissipated, revealing what might have been the outcome of a Hutt and human mating. Though the lavender-hued humanoid managed to get around on two tree-trunk-thick legs—possibly with the assistance of repulsorcoil implants—he had the girth of a young Hutt and a head too large to fit through an ordinary hatchway. His round face was symmetrical and possessed the usual human features, but each was so outsized that they vied with one another for prominence. Shiny and slightly protruding, his eyes were the size of small saucers, his nose was a large flattened disk, and a thick, bristly gray mustache covered almost all of his labrose mouth. Disheveled, slate-colored hair crowned his head like an abandoned avian’s nest, and enormous pink ears flapped against his skull like wings. In the reddish-stained fingers of one huge hand he held a fat, chak-root cigarra.

Han nearly fell out of his chair. “Big Bunji?”

The giant humanoid guffawed in merriment, laughing his mouth empty of aromatic smoke. “Boss Bunji, Han.”

Roa smiled broadly. “It’s amazing that you and I never met, considering all the mutual friends we had on Etti IV and other haunts in the Corporate Sector. A pleasure after all these years.” He gestured to Fasgo and introduced him.

Bunji regarded the red-haired spacer. “Yes, Fasgo’s petty scams aboard the Wheel have not escaped our notice.”

Fasgo swallowed hard, but said nothing.

Han was still shaking his head in incredulity. “I figure I must be dying, because I keep seeing my life flashing before my eyes.” He grinned at Bunji. “If Ploovo Two-For-One shows up right about now, I’m folding my hand.”

“Were Ploovo to show up, Han, I can assure you he would be less than courteous. Even after extensive reconstruction surgery, he never quite got over the damage done to his proboscis by the dinko you so cleverly sicced on him in the Free Flight Dance Dome. For a time, in fact, he paid well for anyone who brought him a dinko—dead or alive. Taxidermied specimens of the vicious things were everywhere on display in his homes, his offices, aboard his ships. He even took to wearing a charm bracelet composed entirely of dinko fangs and the serrated spurs of their hind legs. I do believe he brought the species to the edge of extinction.”

Han frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that, but I never cared much for people who tried to cheat me out of what was mine.”

Bunji guffawed once more, all but rattling the bulkheads with his laugh. “As I myself learned.”

“You’re not still sore about my strafing your pressure dome on that asteroid—”

“Not at all,” Bunji said. “I deserved it for trying to get the better of you on those chak-root runs to Gaurick.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth.” Han laughed. “You fix up the Falcon for what happened to her on Gaurick, then you go and deduct the costs from what you owe me. That’s what sent me to Ploovo for a loan to begin with.”

Bunji’s sigh was a warm wind. “We live and learn, Han, we live and learn. But surely you knew I’d forgiven you. The fact is, I owe you a huge debt of gratitude for what you accomplished on Tatooine.” He gestured broadly. “You could say that much of this station owes to your efforts.”

Han jabbed himself in the chest. “What I did on Tatooine?”

Bunji puffed on his cigarra and grinned. “To be more precise, what your wife did. You see, Han,