Star Wars_ Recovery Part 4

A sheet of crimson light flashed along the Falcon's starboard side. Han's attention remained fixed on the Barabel. With scales as black as s.p.a.ce and a tail that forced him to perch on the edge of the seat, his jagged features made him look as dangerous as his robe did mysterious Han only hoped the Jedi apparel was evidence of a more patient nature than most Barabels pocessed.

The Barabel pointed a claw at Han's hand, still resting on his holstered weapon. "This one will let you blast him later, For now, perhapz you fly the ship."

"Whatever you want." Aware that even without the Force, the Barabel could have taken the blaster...and probably the arm holding it...anytime he wanted, Han grabbed the yoke with both hands. "Where we going?"

"You are the pilot, Han Solo." He waved a claw at the tactical display, which showed a flight of X-wings streaking in to cut them off. "Thought this one thinkz we should turn burnerz and run."

"Can't." Han pointed to the fast-freight's symbol, now giving chase in the upper left corner of the tactical display. "She'll snag us with a tractor beam. Old pirate trap."

The Falcon's cannons lashed out in rapid-fire sequence. The lead starfighter dissolved into static, mirrored in the darkness out side by a distant orange bloom-Han whistled, awed as much by the timing of the: attack as by its accuracy. The other three X-wings swung, into a front oblique attack. Again, the Falcon's laser cannons flashed. Again, an X-wing b.u.m into a ball of superheated gas.

When the fireball died this time, it was replaced by a pair of white dots. They were a little larger than stars and a whole lot brighter.

The white dots swelled to white disks.

"Concussion missiles?" the Barabel asked.

"Not that lucky." Han didn't even bother to check the tactical display for propellant trails. He had seen plenty of those expand ing white dots*though usually from the bridge of a Super Star Destroyer. "Proton torpedoes."

The white disks swelled into white circlcs.

Han nosed the Falcon down into a wild corks.c.r.e.w.i.n.g evasive pattern. Somehow, the mysterious gunners remained accurate, crip pling two starfighters as the main body of the pirate fleet reached effective range. The first proton torpedo arced past so close that the canopy went white.

The Barabel sissed.. "Someone wantz you dead. Really wantz you dead."

Han blinked his vision clear and saw a Y-wing zip past the c.o.c.kpit, a crazy line of laserfire chasing it along. Another X-wing came in firing, and he had to turn head-on to force it to pull up. Wlien he could finally check the tactical display, he found a dozen starfighters circling the Falcon, with another dozen hanging back to cut olf escape. The good news was that the second proton torpedo had already pa.s.sed by, its propellant trail tracing a long arc away from the Falcon's tail.

"They don't want us dead," Han said. The torpedoes had been fired with disabled homing beacons. "They're forcing our hand."

A pair of battered X-wings streaked into view, the Falcon's cannon bolts warming their shields. They collided in front of the c.o.c.kpit, and a pair of rhythmic hisses, the first sounds Han had heard from the turrets, sounded over the intercom. Then pirates were all over the Falcon, coming in close and battering its shields Irom every angle. Depletion warnings and overload signals beeped and buzzed.

The Barabel studied the instrument panel in helpless confusion.

"Where is the load balancer?"

"I'll handle the shields." Han jerked a thumb at the navicomputer. "Can you use that?"

The Barabel bristled his scales "We are good pilots."

"Okay...I didn't mean anything by it." Han said. "Plot a course to Commenor."

He pulled the Falcon out of its evasive pattern and turned toward the fast-freight. The c.o.c.kpit shuddered and the lights dimmed as the starfighters landed a devastating volley, and a damage-control buzzer announced a hull breach ill the number two cargo hold. Two more X-wings vanished from the tactical dis play. Han sealed the breached hold. Then, finally, the pirates began to stand off, keeping the pressure on but now concentrating on avoiding the deadly streams of light pouring from the Falcon's cannon turrets.

Han shifted more power to the rear shields and looked over to check on the Barabel's progress. The calculations were almost fin ished, but the final coordinates lay closer to Corellia than Commenor. Han pretended not to notice, but cursed inside and searched his memory for some hint as to who Izal Waz and his Barabel friends could be working for. Not the Yuuzhan Vong, at least not directly; the Yuuzhan Vong hated Jedi. And certainly not for whoever had hired the pirates; they had killed too many. Maybe a hidden cabal of Dark Jedi, hoping to use Leia to somehow turn the war to their advantage.

Han shifted the tactical scale so it would display only what a standard sensor suite might reveal, and the fast-freight vanished off the screen. Trying to make it appear that he was fine-tuning the data filters, Han quietly opened his own input to the navicomputer and began calculations for the trip to Commenor.

The Barabel looked over. "They will know from our initial course we are going to Commenor." He completed his calculations and sent them to Han's display for verification. "This rendezvous is safer."

"Safer for you."

"For you," the Barabel insisted. "They are not after us."

The fast-freight appeared on the tactical display. Han pushed the Falcon into what he hoped would look like an evasive climb. The starfighters closed, hammering his shields, trying to drive him back toward the freighter. Han held his turn, trying to convince the enemy pilots he really had been surprised. The turret gunner made it look good by dispersing their fire to slow pursuit.

Something popped in the life-support control panel, and an acrid stench filled the air. The Barabel pulled off the cover and smothered a burning circuit board circuit with his bare palm, then looked over wide-eyed.

"You are trying to get us killed?"

"This needs to look good," Han said.

The Falcon bucked as the fast-freight, still too distant to see with the naked eye, locked on with its tractor beam. Han spun them perpendicular to the direction of pull*then cut back the throttles to avoid escaping. He did not have to ease off much, the tractor beam was a powerful one.

The Falcon's cannon turrets spun to attack their captor.

"No!" Han ordered on the intercom. "Keep the fighters away." There was a short silence, then a voice rasped, "Tesar?"

The Barabel...Tesar...studied Han, then said nothing and started to tend damage alarms.

"Listen," Han began, "I'm the..."

The turrets spun back toward the starfighters. Another pirate vanished from the tactical display, and the rest began to stand off again. They continued to pour fire at the Falcon, though they seemed more interested in keeping the deadly laser cannons occu pied than approaching close enough to cause damage. The Falcon continued to slip toward the fast-freight.

Han returned to his calculations. Tesar watched for a moment, then tapped a claw on his own coordinates.

"This is better," he said. "Trust me."

Han did not even look up-"Where have I heard that before?"

"Your enemies are well organized. Even lf we escape this..."

"I have a plan," Han a.s.sured him.

"They will have someone waiting on Commenor."

"Better the enemy I know than one I don't," Han retorted. The Falcon slipped faster toward the freighter. Han added power, but the slide continued to accelerate.

"We are not your enemy, Han Solo," Tesar said.

"Quiet." Han was still struggling to finish the calculations.

"And kill those alarms. I'm working here."

Tesar made no move to obey. "Why do you not trust us? We. are Jedi Knightz."

"I said quiet!"

Thinkuig he just might be quick enough if he caught the Barabel by surprise, he reached for his blaster...then Tesar ex-tended a hand, and Han was nearly jerked from his chair as weapon and holster tore free of his belt.

The Barabel caught the blaster and tucked it inside his robe.

"This one said you could blast him later."

Rubbing his thigh where the holster thong had snapped, Han said, "Look, Luke Skywalker is my brother-in-law. I know the Jedi, and you're not one of them."

The scales rose on Tesar's face, and his pupils narrowed to angry slits. He studied Han, his nostrils flaring and his long tongue flicking Ills lips, then he turned his face away.

"We are still young, but we are Jedi." His reflection in the canopy was twisted into a snarling mask. "If you know the Jedi, then you must know Master Eelysa."

"Of course," Han said. Eelysa had been one of Luke's earliest pupils, a girl born on Coruscant soon after the Emperor's death. Taken to the academy on Yavin 4 as a child, she had matured into one of Luke's most trusted Jedi Knights and now spent most other time on complicated, years-long, missions. "But I haven't seen her in...well, since she was a teenager younger than Jaina."

"Yes, you have." When Tesar looked back, his face was more composed. "Eelysa is the one we are guarding. She is the Master of our Master."

"The Master of your Master?"

"She taught my mother on Barab I," Tesar said. "When we learned she had been injured, we were sent to Corellia to guard Han felt instantly sick and foolish. Now that Tesar had men tioned Eelysa's name, the womian from the bacta tank did look familiar. And spying on Corellia was exactly the kind of high-risk, long-term mission in which she specialized. If anyone was going to train Jedi Knights he had never heard of, it would be Eelysa.

"Look, I'm sorry. 1 didn't mean anything by what I said."

The Barabel looked confused. "Then why did you say it?" Before Han could explain, another Barabel voice rasped over the intercom, "Captain, can we shoot the frigate yet?"

"Frigate?"

The tactical display now showed the starfighters standing com pletely off, and the generic fast-freight tag had been changed to KDY frigate, Lancer-cla.s.s.

"Uh, hold your fire for a minute, fellas."

"Fellas?" a voice rasped. "We are amused, Captain Solo."

This brought a long round of sissing, which Han did his best to ignore as he interrogated the sensor computer for more details.

"They are not fellas," Tesar confided quietly. "They are sisters. We are all hatchmates."

"Hatchmates?" Han echoed, his attention fixed on the details scrolling down his display. "Like wives?"

"Wives!" Tesar broke into an uncotrollable fit of hissing and slapped his chair arm so hard he nearly broke it. "Now is no time. for off-color jokes. Captain."

From what the ma.s.s meters and infrared a.n.a.lyzers were show ing, the frigate was one of the stripped-down versions that had been converted to planetary customs use. It would have an ad vanced sensor suite, overpowered tractor beam, and huge hangar bay*but only six cannon towers and civilian-cla.s.s shields. And while most pirates would have loved to get their hands on such a ship, it was hardly likely. They would have had to steal it from a planetary goverment.

Han opened a comm channel. "Anonymous customs frigate, this is the Millenium Falcon." The ship came into a view, a tiny sliver of light glowing against the starry backdrop of empty s.p.a.ce.

"Explain your actions."

There was a moments pause, then a haughty Kuati voice said, "Our actions speak for themselves. Prepare for capture and board ing, and you will be treated fairly."

Han started to make a rude reply, then thought better of it.

"Do we have another choice?"

"Not if you wish to live. Frigate out."

The channel had hardy closed before Tesar growled, "You would surrender your mate?"

"It was a lie, Tesar. You've been spending too much time with Selonians."

Han lowered the energy shields and powered down. the ion drives, then swung the Falcon's nose around as though surren dering to the inevitable-The frigate began to grew rapidly larger, in the s.p.a.ce of few breaths swelling from the size of a sliver to that of a finger.

"Okay, uh, ladies, when we get to the hangar bay*"

"We understand what to do, Captain," came the reply.

"You know where..."

"The projector and the backup," rasped the other sister. "And both at once, or the generators will reverse and send us tumbling out of control. We have studied our schematicz"

Han checked the systems display and saw that the sisters had already turned the Falcon's cannon turrets away a gesture of sub mission. Thinking his plan just might work, he turned to finish his calculations. The new Commenor coordinates were already glow ing on the display, along with those for the rendezvous Tesar had recommended instead.

"Both setz are accurate," the Barabel a.s.sured him. "The choice is yourz."

"Thanks."

The frigate was as long as his forearm now, and so brightly lit Han could see the cannon turrets mounted along its spine and belly. He transferred the Commenor coordinates to the navicomputer. Tesar's pupils narrowed, but he managed to keep his tongue from flicking...too much.

"Look, I trust you," Han said. "But we'd just lead them straight to your rendezvous. There's a homing beacon somewhere on this bird, and we can't look for it until we land someplace." Tesar turned away, as though he was convinced Han was mak ing excuses. "The beacon will be in something you brought aboard. We removed the one the docking officer planted in the strutz."

Han raised his brow "You've been watching the Falcon?"

"Yes, since Jedi Waz realized who you were." As he spoke, Tesar continued to look out the side of the canopy-"We, uh, discussed whether to tell you, but our Master's instructionz were to remain hidden. She is not going to be pleased, especially when we miss the rendezvous."

"Sorry to cause you trouble," Han said. As large as a hovercar, the frigate filed the forward viewport. All six weapons turrets were turned in the Falcon's direction, the barrels of their deadly laser cannons slowly depressing as their target drew near. "But I need to get Leia to a bacta tank. Eelysa, too; we only have a little while before that portable tank starts to pollute itself."

Tesar turned from the canopy. "That is not an excuse?"

"Now, Captain?" interrupted one of the sisters. "Can we shoot There was nothing ahead but frigate, its ma.s.sive hangar bay yawning open in the middle of the micropitted hull. A conical tractor beam projector hung down from the ceiling in obvious sight, but its ready backup was still tucked against the ceiling and barely visible.

"You can make both shots?" Han asked. "At once?"

"Of course," the other sister said. "We are Jedi."

Han checked the frigate's weapons turrets*the two that he could still see*and found the cannon barrels still trained on the Falcon, not quite at maximum depression.

"Not yet." He placed one hand on the throttles. "I'll let you know."

"The bacta tankz?" There was a rising note of urgency in Tesar's voice. "They are the only reason, Han Solo?"

Han thought for a moment. Though it would have been more in a Barabel's nature to demand*and demand only once...before simply taking control of the ship, Tesar had never even mentioned the possibility, not even as an argument proving his own trustwor-thiness. That was very Jedi.

Han nodded. "Yeah, the bacta tanks are the only reason."