• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 816 0

that no one would voluntarily open a box for him, especially now that he was perceived as legitimate. But he wanted to see the packing rooms and the work stations. He still didn’t entirely believe that smugglers had voluntarily pooled their efforts to supply this mysterious customer. He had a hunch that only a few worked together. The rest made a play at it, and delivered the real goods personally. He would discover who was working Skip 5, and who wasn’t. Then he and Chewie would follow the ones who were conspicuously absent. He hoped one of those smugglers owed him an old debt. Then he could solve the mystery of the client without a personal meeting.

“You two stay here,” Han said to Chewie. “I’ll be back.”

Chewie growled.

“We’ve been through this,” Han said. “I’m not going to leave the Falcon unguarded here. And I’m not going into the Skip with Seluss alone.”

Seluss chirped.

“Just because your explanation’s plausible doesn’t mean that I should trust you,” Han said. He slipped out of the pilot’s chair. “If I’m not back soon, Chewie, get out of here.”

Chewie roared.

“I mean it, Chewie.”

Chewie shook his furry head and moaned.

“Yeah, I know. A life debt,” Han said. “So why doesn’t that mean you’ll listen to me?” He grabbed his blaster. “Protect the Falcon, Chewie. I’d rather rely on my own wits than be trapped on Skip 5 forever. Got that?”

Chewie mumbled under his breath, but he turned back to the control panel. Seluss grabbed Han’s shirt and chittered.

“Yeah, I know you know what you’re looking for, mouse brain,” Han said. “That doesn’t mean I’m looking for the same thing.”

He shook Seluss’s hand free and left the cockpit. Chewie already had the ramp down, and Han disembarked.

The heat was so intense it felt as if he had hit a wall. Sweat broke out all over him, plastering his clothes to his body. He wished he had brought water rations, but he didn’t want to return to the ship for them.

He wouldn’t be gone that long. He could last.

Besides, he’d been in this kind of heat before, weaker and with no protection. The worst time had been on Tatooine when he had hibernation sickness. Blind, in the blazing sun, a battle going on around him. He’d been amazed he had survived that.

Still was, if truth be told.

The deep breath he took stalled in his lungs. He tried again, and then hurried down the ramp.

Smugglers watched him from their cargo bays. Blasters followed him. Two binary load lifters stopped as he went by. Near the droids and the running spacecraft, the heat intensified. And this was a relatively open space. Inside it would be worse.

He slipped through the door and into a narrow corridor. The sunstone walls here were sealed with a coolant cover and the temperature dropped several degrees. Han took the moment to wipe the sweat from his face and to breathe deeply. He also checked his blaster, uncertain how well it would work in the heat.

It checked out fine.

“Plan to use that?”

Han looked up. A slender human with golden curls falling past his shoulder sat on a desk built into the wall. He wore mesh pants and no shirt. His chest was covered with tattoos. His hand rested on the desktop. Han couldn’t see the man’s fingers. They probably covered a blaster.

“Just making sure it worked in case I needed it,” Han said.

“That your ship outside?”

“Yeah.” Han kept his tone neutral. He wasn’t sure if the man was friend or foe yet.

“Awful small for a cargo ship.”

“She’s a great freighter,” Han said.

“Sure,” the man said, his tone full of disbelief.

Han made himself take a breath. “You have a problem with my ship?”

“No,” the man said. “It’s just this bay is usually used for larger ships. Ancient equipment goes to the other side of Five.”

“Well, no one explained the rules to me until now,” Han said. “Next time I’ll go to the other side.”

The man lifted his blaster and rested it sideways on his knee. “There won’t be a next time, pal, until you tell me your business.”

“A friend sent me here to inspect the cargo. He hired my ship to take his stuff off the Run.”

“Your friend got a name?”

Han lowered his blaster