Rebel Force_ Renegade Part 8

Jaxson's eyes were bulging. He shrank away as Luke came at him with the lightsaber, but allowed Luke to cut through his binders. "Where'd you get that? that? " "

he asked, reaching for it. Luke pulled the lightsaber out of his reach. He deactivated the Jedi weapon and slipped it back into his belt.

"Let's just get out of here," he whispered.

There was just one thing standing in their way. Or, more accurately, sleeping sleeping in their way. Bossk's scaly body lay across the opening of the cave. in their way. Bossk's scaly body lay across the opening of the cave.

"Just slice him open with that thing," Jaxson hissed. "He'll never see it coming."

Luke shook his head. He couldn't kill the bounty hunter in his sleep, no matter what the creature had done to them.

But he also couldn't beat the Trandoshan in a fair fight. Maybe a Jedi like Obi-f0 Wan could have used the lightsaber to fend off a giant lizard and his blast rifle, but Luke knew he wouldn't have a chance.

Which left them with very few options.

" Well? Well? " Jaxson looked almost ready to s.n.a.t.c.h the lightsaber and do the job himself. " Jaxson looked almost ready to s.n.a.t.c.h the lightsaber and do the job himself.

Luke gazed at the airspeeder anch.o.r.ed just outside the cave. Then looked down again at the sleeping bounty hunter. "I think I have a plan."

Luke held his breath as Jaxson tiptoed over the slumbering Trandoshan.

Jaxson was right: it wasn't much of a plan, but it was all they had. As Jaxson crept toward the airspeeder, Luke stayed in the cave, his lightsaber activated. Its glowing blue tip hovered centimeters from Bossk's throat. If the bounty hunter was truly sleeping, Luke would wait for Jaxson to make it safely to the airspeeder, then dash after him.

But if Bossk was awake, lying in wait for his prey to make an escape attempt, then Luke would be there to stop him.

As Jaxson was halfway to the airspeeder, the Trandoshan's reptilian eye popped open. His clawed hand closed around the rifle.

"Don't," Luke said, holding his blade steady.

The bounty hunter laughed. "You think you can save yourself with a child's toy?" He swiped his arm toward the lightsaber, intending to knock it out of the way.

The blade cut cleanly through his limb. It dropped to the ground with a dull thud.

Luke stared in horror at the severed arm. Bossk didn't even flinch. He jumped to his feet, hissing with anger, and raised the blast rifle. Without thinking, Luke slashed at the rifle with his lightsaber, and the long barrel clattered to the ground. Enraged, the Trandoshan lunged for Luke. He danced out of the way, waving the lightsaber nearly at random to ward off the attack. Over Bossk's shoulder, he saw Jaxson racing back toward the cave-unarmed, yet determined to help.

"Go!" Luke shouted. "I can handle this!"

"Foolish last words, human," Bossk taunted, whipping out an archaic double-bladed sword. Luke had never seen one in person before-it looked ancient.

Bossk brought the blade down over Luke's head. Instinctively, Luke raised the lightsaber to protect himself. The sword broke in half.

The look on Bossk's face would have been comical-if it hadn't been so terrifying.

The Trandoshan smashed a clawed fist into Luke's face. Luke went sprawling backward, but a moment later, he was on his feet again, hacking and slashing with the lightsaber. Bossk lunged for Luke, lashing out with his claws, but Luke dodged the blows. The glowing blade swept through the air, dancing around the Trandoshan. Luke wasn't thinking, wasn't aiming or strategizing, he just struck again and again, struggling and failing to land a blow. With a roar, Bossk hurtled toward him, wrapping his remaining hand around Luke's throat. Gasping for air, Luke slashed blindly with the lightsaber.

And then Bossk was on the ground. His left leg lay a meter away.

Luke gaped at his lightsaber, almost tempted to drop the deadly weapon on the ground, next to the writhing Trandoshan. It was almost like the lightsaber had taken over, fighting for itself.

And yet it had never felt so much a part of him.

"What are you waiting for, Skywalker!" Jaxson shouted, taking off toward the airspeeder. "Let's get out of here!"

Luke didn't need an invitation. He turned his back on Bossk and began to run. So he didn't see the wounded bounty hunter lob the fragmentation grenade with his one good hand. But Luke did see the deadly silver globe soar over their heads and land, with perfect aim, in the front seat of the airspeeder. "Down!"

Luke shouted, grabbing Jaxson and throwing him to the ground, as the airspeeder exploded.

When the smoke cleared, Bossk was laughing. "Now we die together." He coughed, then spit out a gunky wad of viscous green blood. "Like I said-I always get the job done."

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

Han never felt quite right without his ship. The Millennium Falcon Millennium Falcon was docked in a shabby little hangar on Siskeen, where P'laang Ri, a Zabrak who owed Han more than a few favors, would look after it. The ship would be safe until Han returned, and the shuttle he'd borrowed was perfectly adequate. A scavenged was docked in a shabby little hangar on Siskeen, where P'laang Ri, a Zabrak who owed Han more than a few favors, would look after it. The ship would be safe until Han returned, and the shuttle he'd borrowed was perfectly adequate. A scavenged Zeta Zeta-cla.s.s Imperial shuttle, it was equipped with two double laser cannons and two double blaster cannons, along with a third, retractable rear-mounted double blaster cannon, just to discourage anyone who might want to follow. Not that they would need any of that, if everything went as planned, but it always helped to be prepared. Still, Han missed his ship. Right now, he especially missed the size size of his ship. of his ship.

The shuttle was large enough for two humans and a Wookiee to fit-but only if they pressed together, shoulder to shoulder. And, thanks to a burst hydraulics conduit at the beginning of their voyage, the whole cabin smelled like wet Wookiee fur. "Watch it, you dripping fuzzball!" Han complained, knocking Chewbacca's hairy arm out of his face for the hundredth time. He brought the shuttle into range of the Zoma satellite station and flicked on the comlink. Now they would either secure permission to board the station-or get blown out of the sky.

Either way, at least he'd get out of this shuttle.

"This is the shuttle Arkanoid Arkanoid," Han said into the comlink. "Requesting permission to dock."

"Transmit authorization codes, Arkanoid Arkanoid," came the impersonal response.

"You sure these codes are good?" Han asked Lore, who had purchased them on the black market.

Lore raised his eyebrows. "Don't trust me?"

Han wouldn't trust Lore to deal an honest hand of sabacc or play an honest round of four-cubes, and he certainly wouldn't trust his old friend around an open till. But when it came to plundering Imperial secrets, there was no one he'd rather have at his side.

Well, almost no one.

That's over now, Han reminded himself sternly. Luke, Leia, and the Rebellion were in the past, and he'd closed the door on that. A cargo of glitterstim and a good chunk of the credits he'd need to repay Jabba were his future-as long as he could get aboard the station.

Han transmitted the codes. A moment later, the station's tractor beam activated, sucking the shuttle into the docking bay.

"Welcome, Arkanoid Arkanoid," the voice said. "We've been expecting you."

"Maintenance crew down that way," the stormtrooper said, waving them down a long corridor. "Dump the Wookiee at the operations station with the rest of the furbags."

Chewbacca growled. He hated to be treated like an animal. But this was all part of the plan. Han had asked around and discovered that a team of Wookiees had been shipped in from the nearest prison planet to complete labor on the shield generators. From there, Chewbacca would be in perfect position to infiltrate the station's defense and weapons systems, ensuring that, if anything went wrong, the shuttle would make an easy escape. On a remote station like this, it seemed likely that security protocols would be lax enough to allow the Wookiee all the access he needed. Han prodded Chewbacca with his blaster.

"You heard him, Wookiee. Let's go."

The stormtrooper shot him a sympathetic look. "You ask me, they may be strong, but they're not worth the trouble. Easier to wrangle a ship full of furnocs than get a good day's work out of a Wookiee."

"Tell me about it," Han said, as Chewbacca issued a long string of angry barks. Han suppressed a grin. No need to translate exactly what Chewbacca thought of this Imperial slug. Even a stormtrooper was likely smart enough to figure that one out on his own.

"Meet you in the cargo bay," Lore murmured, as Han escorted Chewbacca to the Wookiee labor unit. The Wookiee wore a thick, ill-fitting tunic that looked ridiculous but was loose enough to hide the bowcaster tucked beneath it. When the time came to leave, he'd hopefully have no trouble. "And we'll get to work."

The Imperials thought their newest maintenance team would be repairing the docking racks in the shuttle staging area.

But that wasn't exactly the kind of work Han had in mind.

Han had long ago learned that wearing a maintenance uniform was the key to getting pretty much anywhere you wanted to go. While high-profile visitors to an Imperial satellite station had to pa.s.s through any number of security checks as they wandered from one sector to another, no matter how important they were, maintenance workers quickly faded into the background. These days the Empire was doing so much construction work that most new projects were staffed by prisoners. There was little time or energy left over to guard the crews who kept the place running. No one cared what happened to the guy who fixed the plumbing or took out the trash. Which meant, thanks to their orange maintenance uniforms, no one gave Han or Avik a second look at they hurried away from the docking bay toward the aft cargo hold.

It had taken a good twenty minutes on the station's nearest computer terminal to determine where the shipment of glitterstim-confiscated from a rogue transport ship and en route to a legitimate distributor in a nearby star system-was stored. Not for the first time, Han found himself missing that annoying little astromech droid, who would have been able to ferret out the information in seconds. Still, they found it and easily slipped into the empty cargo hold. It was at least a hundred square meters in area and filled with stacks and stacks of shipping containers. There were no humans inside, only a few binary loadlifters, none of whom were sentient enough to note the presence of a couple unauthorized visitors.

"So far, so good, Chewie," Han said into his comlink. "Now we just need to dig up the shipment and we'll get out of here."

Avik dropped the two large tool cases he'd been carrying on the ground and flipped them open. Both were empty. Han glanced up at the giant piles of crates lining the walls of the cargo hold. He groaned. "This could take a while."

They began searching through the stacks, prying open one crate after another. Han found several cases of Whyren's Reserve (its amber color marking it as a particularly valuable vintage), kilograms of ionite (enough to retrofit the Falcon Falcon and several other ships), and a month's supply of bacta. But no glitterstim. They'd been at it for about fifteen minutes when the door to the cargo hold swished open. A stormtrooper in white armor clomped into the room, looking suspiciously back and forth between Han, Lore, and their empty toolboxes. and several other ships), and a month's supply of bacta. But no glitterstim. They'd been at it for about fifteen minutes when the door to the cargo hold swished open. A stormtrooper in white armor clomped into the room, looking suspiciously back and forth between Han, Lore, and their empty toolboxes.

Han clambered off the crates of fusioncutters he'd been sorting through and ambled over to the guard. His hand strayed toward his blaster, but he kept calm.

It was important not to act suspicious.

"What are you two doing in here?" the stormtrooper asked. "All maintenance crews were to report to sector seven."

Han shrugged. "No one told us, buddy," he said. "They sent us here." He jerked a thumb at Lore, who was fiddling with some exposed wiring in the far corner. "Told us we needed to repair the, uh, gyrostabilizers in the cargo lifts,"

he said, taking a wild guess at something that might need repairing.

The stormtrooper raised his comlink. "I'll have to check on that," he said.

"Don't bother," Han retorted, throwing all his weight against the stormtrooper and knocking him to the ground. The guard fumbled for his blaster, but Han knocked it out of his grasp. He reached for his own weapon. The stormtrooper lunged at Han, just as he was taking his shot. The laserfire went wild, crashing into a box of muja fruit. A geyser of bright red muja juice exploded into the hold.

With a swift chopping motion, the stormtrooper smacked Han's blaster out of his hand, then headb.u.t.ted him, hard. Han shook off the ringing in his ears to deliver a solid punch to the guard's stomach. But the white armor was impervious to the blow. "Little help here?" Han called to Lore, who was watching the fight, looking almost bemused.

"Sure," Lore said, as Han wrestled the stormtrooper to the ground, trying to pin him down long enough to reach for one of the fallen blasters. But every time he got the upper hand, the stormtrooper struck back, with a fist to Han's nose or an armored boot to his gut. And Lore was, inexplicably, taking his time. Out of the corner of his eye, Han saw him scoop up first the stormtrooper's fallen blaster, then Han's. Only then-Han darted out of the way just in time-did Lore take his shot.

The stormtrooper went limp. His helmet slipped off, and Han, as always, experienced a moment of surprise to see the human face beneath the white plastoid mask. "Took you long enough," Han snapped at Lore. "But thanks."

"Don't thank me yet," said Lore, raising his blaster.

Han didn't have enough time to ask what he was doing.

Only enough time to think: should have known better should have known better.

And then Lore swung, hard.

The weapon struck the back of Han's head.

Lights out.

When Han woke up, he was propped against the wall of the cargo hold, his arms tied behind his back with a loop of fibra-rope. Lore was packing the final vials of glitterstim into the toolboxes. He smiled wryly at Han, without a hint of shame.

"Don't tell me this is payback for Dubrillon," Han said. He groaned at the sharp pain shooting through his head with every motion.

"Oh, please," Lore said. "This isn't personal, it's business."

"Someone trusses me up like a rong boar, I take that personally," Han warned him.

"Come on. Why split the payment in half when I can take it all? You'd have done the same thing, if I hadn't done it first."

"Never," Han said.

Lore laughed harshly. "Come on, Solo, you're the one who showed me the ropes in this game. Is it my fault you forgot the first thing you taught me?"

"Don't chew nerf steaks with your mouth open?"

"Trust no one," Lore said. "Look out for yourself, because no one else will."

He grinned. "This must be a proud moment for you. The student surpa.s.ses the teacher." Moving quickly, he relieved the stormtrooper of his uniform, and then donned the armor himself. "Now, because we're old friends, you get a choice,"

he told Han, brandishing the stormtrooper's comlink. "I leave you for the Imperials to find...or I put you out of your misery, here and now."

"How about you untie me and we forget this whole thing ever happened?"

Han suggested.

Lore didn't bother to respond.

Han ran out of patience. "Okay then, how about you take that blasted comlink and shove it in your frinking-"

"We have an intruder in the aft cargo hold, sector five," Lore said into the comlink, affecting the flat monotone of a stormtrooper. "Repeat. Intruder in aft cargo hold, sector five. Send reinforcements."

Moments later an alarm sounded, and the room lit up with flashing red lights.

Lore holstered his blaster, hoisted the tool cases, and slipped through the door, offering Han a farewell salute. "Remember, nothing personal!" he shouted over his shoulder.

"Nothing personal. Right. And I'm a gundark's uncle," Han grumbled, as a thunder of footfalls rumbled down the hall, and a sea of white armor flooded through the open door.

It looked like the reinforcements had arrived.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

The stormtroopers yanked him to his feet.