The Han Solo Adventures Part 19

"Who's a gentleman?" Fiolla demanded sharply.

"Beg pardon," apologized the Sljee. "I've only been working here since this morning. It's my first time away from home and I've never dealt with aliens before. Non-Sljee, I mean. The smells are so confusing. Frightfully sorry."

"The 'droid stays," Han stated flatly. "Now go bring us two Flameouts, or I'll tell the manager you insulted this lady. I'm a very close friend of his."

"At once, sir. Coming right up." The Sljee pirouetted on its many short podia and sailed off in the direction of the service bar.

"So we know I'm not Zlarb," Han resumed to Fiolla. "Who are you not?"

She chuckled. "I'm not a slaver, but you know my real name, or at least part of it. Im Hart-and-Parn Gorra-Fiolla of Lorrd, a.s.sistant Auditor-General, Corporate Sector Authority."

An Authority exec, Han groaned to himself. Why don't I just go down to the Espo prison, pick a comfortable cell, and get it over with? Instead he pursued the conversation. "Slavers must have interesting audits, fascinating expense vouchers."

"Doubtless, but I've never read one. I'm an auditor-at-large, sort of a roving a.s.signment conducting random checks of Authority operations. I was working here with my a.s.sistant when I found out that there's a slavery ring operating inside the Authority. Some top execs are implicated, and a number of Espo officials. I think it might go as high as the territorial manager for this entire part of the Authority, Odumin, and that's a shock in itself. Although I've never met him, I've heard that Odumin's always shunned the limelight, but he's always been a decent administrator, a regular humanitarian as managers go. Anyway, I'm conducting my own investigation. When I've developed all the information, I'm going to dump it right in the lap of the Board of Directors." She smiled brightly. "Then I'm going to nail myself the juiciest promotion and raise you ever saw. You're looking at Fiolla of Lorrd, heroine of the s.p.a.ceways. Now how about you?"

He spread his hands. "I fly for hire. I rendezvoused with Zlarb without knowing he wanted me to move slaves. We disagreed and he got shot. And I don't care who's doing what to whom; I've got ten thousand in cash coming and I want it. Zlarb had a tape message to meet someone here for payment so I kept his appointment. How did you end up there in the lounge?"

"It was part of the information I came across. Did Zlarb tell you anything else?"

"Zlarb made the Final Jump shortly after being burned with a disruptor, but he had a record of ship registrations and leasing permits. Almost all of them were funneled through an agency on Ammuud."

She was listening distractedly, but he went on. "Do you mind telling me how come I'm in your confidence all of a sudden? Not that it doesn't stir me deeply, of course."

"Simple; this thing's even bigger than I'd thought. I need some additional help and I can't go to the Espos. You seem to know what you're doing in an unsubtle sort of way. And you definitely aren't a member of the slavery ring unless murder is a standard business pay-down."

"You'd be surprised. But don't get any ideas; I'm not the helpful type. How'd you end up out there today, by the way?"

"My a.s.sistant, Magg, got his hands on a message that the management was holding for Zlarb back there at the lounge. When I decided you weren't going to tell me much I sent you off to chase yourself and-"

Han leaned forward with a certain look on his face that caused Bollux to fear for Fiolla's safety. "And Magg followed me to put my lights out, right?"

She looked honestly shocked. "Are you saying someone attacked you?"

"Somebody did everything except zeroize my rotors."

She drew a deep breath. "I gave you the number of an Authority pool hangar. The ship there was the one Magg and I arrived in. I knew it was on down time, waiting for parts, and there'd be no one around. But listen-Magg trailed your hairy friend when he left the lounge and that's how we found out which ship was yours. When we couldn't get aboard for a search, I went off to keep Zlarb's appointment myself because the instructions said one person and one scooter. I sent Magg to see what he could find out about you."

Han was so busy trying to unravel what she had said that he forgot to be angry at her mention of the attempted break-in. He was impressed with her resourcefulness, antagonized a bit by her self-a.s.surance, and surprised by her naivete.

The Sljee waiter had returned. Two tentacles whisked two tall gla.s.ses off its back-tray while two more placed absorb-mats before Han and Fiolla. "There we are," the Sljee said cheerfully. "Will that be pay as you go, or shall I put it on a tab?" it asked hopefully. It had already been stiffed twice that day by unscrupulous customers who had taken advantage of its difficulty in differentiating among individual non-Sljee.

"Run the tab," said Han immediately. The Sljee retreated in disappointment, trying its best to memorize Han's odor without much confidence.

The Flameouts were perfect, burning their tongues and freezing their throats, making them gasp a bit. "Don't you think it was stupid to ride out there alone?" Han asked.

"I had a gun," she argued. "A special, one that doesn't register on scanners. Lots of execs carry them. How did I know the worthless thing would let me down?"

"Where's your a.s.sistant now?"

"After Magg checks on you he'll go to our hotel and get ready to leave. It occurred to me that we might have to get off-planet in short order."

"Very possible," allowed Han. A sudden thought struck him and he became hostile again. "I owe Magg for damaging my ship, don't I?"

"I ordered him to try to break in, to see if there was any information onboard; I thought you might just be playing very, very dumb. If you want to get even, you can take me on another swoop ride sometime. By the way, what kind of security system is that you've got? Magg was sure he could open up a freighter without breaking stride, but that lock of yours stopped him cold. He said he'd need a tool shop to get in."

"I like my privacy," Han explained simply, avoiding the mention of smuggling.

"Magg said it was like trying to crack the Imperial Currency Reserve."

"Sounds like an experienced guy."

"Oh, very versatile, yes. I handpicked him because he had, ah, a range of abilities. I think you two will find one another quite-"

At that moment Chewbacca arrived with Spray. The Wookiee forcefully sat the little Tynnan down with the pressure of a giant paw and took a seat himself, filling it to overflowing.

"I met Fiolla here and almost got killed," Han told his friend pleasantly. "How was your afternoon?"

Chewbacca studied the woman with his large, lucid blue eyes and she returned the scrutiny. Then the Wookiee motioned to Spray and, in his growling, barking language, explained to Han what had happened as the skip-tracer squinted from one to the other.

"I hate skip-tracers," announced Han Solo at length.

"In that case I think I'll just be toddling along ..." Spray said, starting to rise. Chewbacca clapped a paw on him and pushed him back down.

Han's head was spinning with this new development, and he wished he could process information as quickly as Blue Max. Theoretically, Spray could enlist the aid of the Espos in taking possession of the Falcon. Once again Han wondered when his string of rotten luck would break.

Just then the Sljee waiter showed up again, having noticed Chewbacca's and Spray's presence. It endeavored to speak in its most hospitable tones, still aware of its previous gaff.

"Yes, sir" purred the Sljee to the Wookiee, "and what can I bring you and your strapping young hatchling here?"

Chewbacca snarled at the Sljee. Spray, already visibly disturbed, exploded. "We're not even the same species!"

"What've I told you about that?" Han asked the Sljee menacingly.

"A thousand pardons," wailed the Sljee, rotating back and forth through nervous quarter-turns and intertwining its tentacles imploringly.

"What in the world is going on?" Fiolla wanted to know, not having understood anything Chewbacca had said.

Spray held his paws-up, webbed fingers spread, until the others were quiet, including the Sljee. "First of all, we have no need of any refreshments, thank you," the Tynnan told the waiter. The Sljee retreated gratefully.

"Now," Spray continued, "the central issue, Captain Solo-please stop shushing me, sir; I will be heard! At issue are two thousand five hundred Credits Standard owed Vinda and D'rag, Starshipwrights. Unless you're prepared to make payment, I am empowered to attach and take possession of your ship, which, by the way, appears to have had her marking altered in illegal fashion."

Han narrowed his eyes and glared at Spray. "I am thinking right now," he said, "of how a certain chisel-beaked runt is going to get his just desserts."

"It's a bit public for threats of aggravated a.s.sault, isn't it, Solo?" Fiolla asked.

"You keep out of this! For all I know, you two work together."

"Bullying will do you no good, Captain," Spray plowed on insistently in his squeaky voice. "Either remittance arrangements must be made this very moment or I shall be forced to go to the portmaster and the Security Police."

Han had his mouth open, uncertain whether he would try to lie or simply instruct Chewbacca to render the skip-tracer unconscious. He heard Fiolla say: "I'll pay for him."

Han's mouth stayed open as he turned on her. "Better close it," Fiolla cautioned, "before your tongue gets sunburned. Look, this problem of mine is a lot more complicated than I'd thought. It will take more investigation before I'm ready to go to the Board of Directors. I need a way to get around fast, and I'm not particularly anxious to go by public transportation. And the last thing I want is to take an Authority pool ship. Solo, you ought to be eager to leave, too, before the Espos start asking about missing rental scooters and several swoop riders smeared out on the landscape. If you'll chart out to me, I'll cover your debt. Besides, you want your ten thousand, don't you? Your best chance of finding it is to stick with me."

She turned to Spray. "How about it?"

The Tynnan nervously scratched up tufts of fur on his skull, blinking and wriggling his nose back and forth in consternation. "Cash?" he asked at last.

"An Authority Cash Voucher," Fiolla replied. "Half now, half when we're done. They're as good as money in a vault."

"Interstellar Collections Limited does prefer repayment to repo procedures," the skip-tracer admitted. "But I'm afraid I couldn't let you out of my sight until rest.i.tution is made."

"Just a second," Han snapped at Fiolla. "I'm not carting that little bloodsucker along anywhere."

Spray remained unexpectedly firm. "Captain Solo, her proposal is absolutely the only alternative to having your ship attached."

"There's always the famous Disappearing Ship-Tracer Trick," suggested Han darkly.

"Be civilized," Fiolla chided. "This won't take long, Solo. And if you don't help me, maybe I'll have to drag your name into my report. But if you take me to check out this shipping agent on Ammuud, the one you mentioned, I'll forget about you completely."

Han hoped it would be mutual. He poured down half of what remained of his Flameout. It felt corrosive but didn't help much otherwise. He looked to his first mate, who was looking back, no help at all, willing to go with whatever decision Han made.

He put his chin on his fist. "Chewie, you take Bollux and paddlefoot, here, back to the ship. I'll go with our new employer and pick up her a.s.sistant. Get liftoff clearance and punch up a jump to Ammuud."

Fiolla scribbled quickly on a pad of forms and pressed her thumbprint against the authorization square. She presented the voucher to Spray, whereupon Han realized that she was carrying an open expense account and that her position with the Authority must be an important one indeed.

The Wookiee had risen and moved near Spray as a general precaution, with Bollux close behind. But the Tynnan only made a polite parting bow to Fiolla. "Thank you for remaining reasonable about this entire incident," he said.

He started for the door. Chewbacca growled a farewell to Han, then to Fiolla. She returned it, not getting the vocal sounds right but contorting her face around into a very close approximation of the Wookiee's, even to getting both corners of her upper lip up high and baring her lower teeth along with the uppers in true Wookiee fashion. Chewbacca was startled, but yipped laughter. Then he went quickly, Bollux at his side, to catch up with the departing Spray.

"You're a pretty good mimic," Han commented, remembering her imitation of the four-armed manager in the terminal lounge.

"I told you, I'm from Lorrd," she reminded him, and he understood. The Lorrdians had, for many generations, been a subject race during the Kanz Disorders. Their masters had forbidden them to speak, sing, or otherwise communicate as they worked at their slave labors. The Lorrdians had evolved a complicated language of extremely subtle hand and facial movements and body signals and become masters of kinesic communication. Although it had been generations since their servitude had been ended by the Jedi Knights and the forces of the Old Republic, the Lorrdians remained among the galaxy's very best mimes and mimics.

"So that's how you knew Chewie and I were watching table 131 today?"

"I read you like a pair of message tapes; you tipped it every time someone went near the table."

And, thought Han, Fiolla's Lorrdian background gave her an added interest in ending the slavery ring. Still, it was unusual to find a Lorrdian working this far from home, and especially for the Corporate Sector Authority.

About to down the last of his Flameout, Han pointed to the open voucher pad. "There are plenty of times when you can get more with a blaster than with one of those, but if I had one I'd buy myself a nice little planet and retire."

"Which is why you'll never have one," she a.s.sured him, rising and following him from the table. "This slavery business is going to be my big break; nothing's keeping me out of a Board chair."

The Sljee waiter returned, its olfactory stalks tilting and waving when it took cognizance of the empty table. Then it noticed Han and Fiolla and approached them tentatively, the check extended before it on a metal salver.

"Ah, I believe this is your check, humans," ventured the Sljee.

"Us?" Han, who was broke, cried indignantly. "We just arrived, and for your information we've been waiting to be seated for quite a while now. And you're trying to stick us with somebody else's check when we haven't even had a drink yet? Where's the manager?"

The Sljee was spinning around and back, tangling its tentacles in total consternation. Its sensory equipment was really quite excellent at fine distinctions and subtle perceptions concerning other Sljee, but it found humanoid species dreadfully anonymous.

"Are you certain?" the Sljee moaned abjectly. "I'm sorry; I, I suppose I had you confused with two others." It studied the vacant table, wringing its tentacles in distress. "You didn't happen to see them leave, did you? If I'm stiffed again it will cost me my job."

Unable to endure any more, Fiolla drew a generous handful of cash from her thigh pouch and tossed it on the salver. "Solo, you're impossible."

The Sljee withdrew, showering her with its grat.i.tude. Fiolla headed for the door.

"It's every life form for himself," opined Han Solo.

VI.

FIOLLA'S hotel was, predictably, the finest lodging place at the s.p.a.ceport, the Imperial. Han tried his best not to look uncouth and out of place as he followed her through a lobby of soaring gem-set columns, vaulted ceilings, resilient plush carpeting, delicate glow-orb lighting, expensive furnishings, and lush shrubbery.

Fiolla, on the other hand, was a picture of cool, nonchalant poise, aristocratic even in coveralls. She led the way to the lift shaft and punched for the seventieth level.

Her suite was luxurious without being overdone. Han suspected that, though Fiolla could have afforded something far showier, she would have deemed it vulgar.

But the second she palmed her door open, he knew something was wrong. Things were in disorder. Conform-lounge furniture had been pushed and shoved out of place, suspension cushions and floater pads ripped or overturned. Storage panels were hanging open and the data plaques and tapes with which Fiolla worked were strewn all over the floor.

As Han pulled Fiolla out of the doorway, he suddenly remembered that he was unarmed. "Do you have another gun?" he whispered to her. She shook her head, her eyes very wide. "Then give me the special; it's better than nothing."

She pa.s.sed the inoperative weapon to him. He listened closely but heard no sound to indicate that whoever had ransacked her room was still there. He moved cautiously into the suite, listening at each doorway before he went through. He found signs of search everywhere on his wary sweep, but satisfied himself that no one remained in the rooms.

He engaged her door's security mode at FULL ISOLATION. "Where's Magg's room?"

She pointed. "There's a connecting door behind that hanging; we usually take adjoining quarters. An audit can demand very long hours."

Sliding Magg's door open slowly, ear c.o.c.ked for any warning, he heard none. Magg's suite was in the same state at Fiolla's.

"You sent him back here to pack?" Han asked. Fiolla nodded, gazing around the ransacked place in some shock. "Well, somebody forwarded him for you. Grab whatever you can put in your pockets; we're getting out of here right now."

"But what about Magg? We have to report this outrage to the Espos." Her voice trailed away as she returned to her own suite. He began feeding instructions into the programming panel for the servant-drones that took care of domestic ch.o.r.es, then went back to Fiolla's suite.

"We don't go to any Espos," he called to her. "They may be part of it, isn't that what you told me? Then don't go cutting the charter short."

He began inserting orders into the programming panel for her rooms, too. Fiolla returned, her various coverall pockets and pouches bulging and a slim day-tote slung over one shoulder. "I don't like it, but you're correct about the Espos," she admitted. "What are you doing?"

He turned from the panel. "Well, what do you know, a female who can travel light. What I did was issue instructions for your stuff and Magg's to be put into storage. You can come back for it later"-I hope, he thought to himself. "Are the rooms already paid for? Good, let's jet."

He peeked into the corridor before easing out into it. Han felt as tense as a wound spring as they rode down the drop shaft, but they encountered no trouble there or in the foyer. A robo-hack dropped them at one of the s.p.a.ceport's side gates, a freighthauler's entrance near the Falcon that Han's shipmaster's credentials allowed him to use.