Han woke smothering in the perfumed silkiness of Leia’s long hair, her soft skin warming his side and her breath tickling his ear. Sometime during the night, she had managed to reattach his hydration drip and return to bed without disturbing him, and now even his lips no longer felt dry. The room was comfortably cool, the sky window above the bed was blushing with the pink light of first sunrise, and everything was right with the world.
Except, perhaps, that muffled sound coming from the suite’s sitting room. It had the familiar drone of an electronically filtered voice and the sharp rhythm of someone giving orders. Of a squad leader assigning tasks to his stormtroopers. Alarm bringing him instantly to full wakefulness, Han looked to the side table and found his blaster resting next to Leia’s.
The electronic voice barked a command.
Han did not bother to detach himself from the hydration drip, or even to wake Leia. He simply tossed her blaster over the far side of the bed, then snatched his own weapon and rolled after it, grabbing her on the way. A burning line of pain shot up his arm as the hydration catheter tore free, then he landed on the floor, bringing Leia down on top of him.
Her eyelids rose half open, and their gazes met instantly.
“Han?” She smiled dreamily. “My, you are feeling better.”
“Sorry, not in front of company.” He snatched her blaster off the floor and pressed it into her hand. “You know I’m not that kind of guy.”
Leia’s eyes opened wide. “Company?”
“Listen.”
They fell quiet and listened to the muffled voices coming from the next room. It was too faint to understand words, but the stormtrooper drone was unmistakable. Leia pushed herself off him and started for the bedroom’s oversized door.
Han sat up. “Hey! Don’t go out—”
Leia stepped through the door.
Han sprang across the bed after her. “At least put on some clothes!”
When he peered into the sitting room, he found no stormtroopers anywhere. Leia was standing at the table, staring down at the datapad from which the electronic voices were coming.
“Dama lent this to me so we could keep an eye on the lobby,” Leia said, picking up the borrowed datapad.
With a blaster in one hand and her brown eyes fixed on the datapad in the other, her long hair falling in a silky cascade over her shoulders, she seemed more breathtakingly beautiful than ever. Han knew he had to be the luckiest ex-smuggler in the galaxy; if they could just get past her fear of having children, he was pretty sure that when his time came, he would leave this universe with every wish he ever had fulfilled.
Leia looked up from the datapad and frowned. “Han, why are you just standing there?”
Han shrugged. “Too much sun, I guess.”
“Well, you’re bleeding all over Dama’s floor.” Leia nodded at his arm, which was oozing blood from the rip where he had torn out the catheter. “Get a towel or something and come over here.”
Han snatched a small towel off the bar and joined her at the table. The image on the datapad showed a squad of stormtroopers standing in the ornate lobby of the Sidi Driss, the leader’s chest pressed against the counter as he addressed a Pa’lowick so frightened her thin limbs and long proboscis were quivering.
“I can’t bring up those records,” she was saying. “I’m only the night clerk. I don’t have the password to check the day records.”
The squad leader grabbed her proboscis and pulled her half over the counter, then pressed the nozzle of his blaster rifle against the lips at the end.
“But you can find someone who knows it.”
“Yefffth,” she said.
“Then do it.” The leader released the Pa’lowick’s trunk, freeing her to stumble back against the door behind the counter. He pointed to two of his troopers. “Accompany her.”
“What do you think?” Leia asked. “Are we in for a fight?”
“I don’t know.” Han started toward the bedchamber. “But it wouldn’t hurt to put our clothes on. If we have to leave in a hurry, the last thing I want is an all-over Tatooine tan.”
“I think we’re in for a fight.” Leia followed, her gaze still fixed on the borrowed datapad. “It wouldn’t hurt to make sure Chewie and the Squibs are awake.”
“Better stay off the comlinks in case the Imps have a signal tracer in the air,” Han said. “Which wall is Chewie’s?”
Leia pointed, then dropped the datapad on the bed where they could both see it as they dressed. Han banged on the wall with his blaster, using a two-short, two-long sequence that had meant trouble nearly as long as he and Chewbacca had been flying together. Then, keeping his eye on the datapad, he reached for his trousers.
Once the night clerk and her escort were gone, a stormtrooper came over to the squad leader.
“You didn’t have to be so brutal, Sergeant,” the trooper said. “She was already going to cooperate.”
“Sorry, sir.” Even through the electronic filtering, the squad leader sounded anything but apologetic. “I thought brutal was the new style.”
“Efficient is the new style, Sergeant.” The officer’s armor betrayed no outward sign of his rank. “And brutalizing citizens who don’t need it is most definitely not efficient.”
“Yes, sir,” the sergeant said. “I didn’t want to let them slip away.”
“Yes, of course.”
The officer brought his assault rifle up and calmly smashed the butt into the sergeant’s helmet, knocking him to the floor. With the other stormtroopers looking on from behind their faceless helmets, the officer pointed his blaster rifle at his fallen subordinate.
“Tell me, Sergeant, do you feel like doing me any favors now?” the officer asked. “And be honest. That is an order.”
There was a moment’s silence, then the sergeant said, “No sir, I don’t.”
“Now tell me why you believe a brutalized citizen will do anything for us but the minimum required to survive?”
“I don’t know, sir,” the sergeant said. “She won’t, I guess.”
“Congratulations, Sergeant. You get to live.” The officer pointed his weapon away from the squad leader.
“When the next citizen arrives, what interrogation style will you use?”
“Efficient, sir.”
“Good.” The officer motioned two subordinates to help the sergeant to his feet. “And you understand why it is so important for us to find these Rebels and their painting?”
“Because the admiral wishes to add it to his collection,” the sergeant said.
Han, who had grown so absorbed with the lesson that he had nearly forgotten that the Imperials were in the same hotel, could almost see the officer’s eyes rolling behind his helmet’s lenses.
“What about the Rebels? Why is it important that we capture them?”
An eager recruit stepped forward. “Sir, because the admiral says it is. That is all we need to know, sir.”
The officer did not turn toward the recruit. “Sergeant, you will control your squad.”
“Yes, sir.”
The sergeant leveled his blaster rifle at the offender, then thought better of shooting the man and glanced at the officer. When the officer shook his head, the sergeant settled for bringing the butt of his rifle up under the recruit’s chin.
Han knew by the way the trooper’s body went limp that he had been knocked unconscious.
“Whoever this new admiral is, he’s teaching old rancors new tricks.” Han’s gaze remained glued to the data-pad. “That officer isn’t following Imperial doctrine.”
“No, he isn’t. But unless you want him teaching us new tricks, you’d better finish getting dressed.” Leia motioned at the tunic hanging forgotten in Han’s hands. “I have a feeling this squad isn’t going to settle for a look at Dama’s registration records.”
Han slipped the tunic over his head, then rapped on Chewie’s wall again. This time, he was answered by the acknowledging thuds of a Wookiee fist. The officer continued his exercise.
“Sergeant, do you need me to repeat the question?”
“No, sir. It’s important to capture these Rebels because they are New Republic scum.”
The officer remained expectantly silent.
“Because they were prepared to destroy the painting rather than let us have it,” the sergeant continued. “Because they were wearing elaborate disguises at the auction, and the admiral wishes to know who they really are.”
“Excellent, Sergeant.” The officer stepped back to join the other troopers. “Handle this well, and I may promote you to platoon leader.”
The sergeant’s posture grew instantly more upright.
“I don’t like that officer,” Leia said. She was already dressed and strapping on her blaster holster. “He’s good.”
“Yeah,” Han said. “And he’s still using us for training exercises. I hate that.”
The Pa’lowick and her escort of stormtroopers returned with a sleepy-looking woman whom Han remembered vaguely from when Chewbacca carried him into the Sidi Driss. She had a round face and dust-colored hair with eyes he could see glinting defiance even in the datapad’s tiny screen.
The woman went to the counter and glared directly at the squad leader. “I’m Dama Brunk, owner of the Sidi Driss. If it’s rooms you’re looking for, you’ll have to go down to the SandRest. We’re booked solid.”
The squad leader ignored Dama and turned his helmet lenses on the Pa’lowick. She quickly stepped behind Dama and began to quiver again.
“First,” the squad leader said, “I apologize for the treatment your assistant received at the hands of my predecessor. Such brutality is not proper Imperial procedure.”
The Pa’lowick’s proboscis curled upward in surprise.
Dama narrowed her gaze and demanded, “Since when?”
“It’s a recent directive.” The squad leader continued to look at the Pa’lowick. “As you can see, he’s been relieved of command and, I assure you, he will be punished when we return to our ship.”
“Who do you think you’re fooling?” the Pa’lowick demanded. “I know who pulled my nose.”
“You’re mistaken. The man who handled your nose has been punished and demoted,” the stormtrooper lied in his electronic voice. He pulled the orange pauldron off his armor and snapped it onto the armor of the man next to him, then took it back. “I’m his replacement. We have codes of conduct and chains of command, and when they are not followed, action is swift.”
“Sure it is,” Dama said. “You wanted something?”
“A few answers. We’re looking for some Rebels—”
“None here.”
“I’m sure you believe that,” the squad leader said. “But they wouldn’t be wearing uniforms. We’re looking for a man and woman, human, with a Wookiee and possibly a protocol droid—”
“I didn’t register anyone like that.” Dama turned to the Pa’lowick. “You, Keesa?”
Keesa shook her head.
Dama looked back to the Imperial. “Anything else?”
“How about Squibs?”
Dama shook her head. “None of them, either.”
“You’re certain?” the squad leader asked. “Because we heard three of them were seen in your lobby. They might have arrived on a three-seated swoop.”
Dama’s bearing grew tense. “Where’d you hear that?”
“Then it’s true?” the squad leader asked. Dama remained silent, obviously debating how to answer.
“We’ve got trouble,” Han said.
The door buzzer sounded and Leia, who was already hanging water packs on her utility belt, went into the sitting room and admitted Chewbacca and C-3PO.
“What about the Squibs?” Han asked.
Chewbacca growled that they were at the end of the hall, finally asleep after a long night of water play.
“We’ll collect them on the way out.” Leia was furiously loading the portable holocomm and other equipment into a utility satchel.
On the datapad, Dama collected her wits and pretended to consult the inn’s registry. “No Squibs,” she said. “But we’ve got Ranats. Maybe someone was mistaken.”
“Maybe,” the squad leader said. “But you won’t mind waking them, will you? We’ll only disturb them for a minute—providing, of course, that you’re not the one who was mistaken.”
“Of course. We’ll show you the way.” As Dama turned to step out from behind the counter, she cast a quick glance into the hidden security cam and mouthed the word “go,” then started down the corridor. “They’re in the east wing.”
“That’s at the opposite end of the inn.” Leia pulled her sand cloak over her head and threw Han’s to him. “She’s trying to buy us time.”
“And not doing very well,” Han said, now carrying the borrowed datapad along as he stuffed the last of his possessions into a utility satchel. “The Imps aren’t buying it.”
The display screen showed only two stormtroopers following Dama and Keesa toward the east wing.
Dama stopped and turned toward the squad leader. “Aren’t you coming?”
“We want to disturb your inn as little as possible,” he said. “Two of my troopers will be enough to determine whether your guests are Squibs or Ranats. The rest of us will wait here with Keesa.”
Keesa’s proboscis began to quiver again.
Dama glared at the stormtrooper, but could only nod. “As you wish.” She squeezed Keesa’s shoulder. “It’ll be all right.”
But, of course, it was not. No sooner was Dama gone than the squad leader turned to the Pa’lowick.
“You like your employer, I can see that.”
Keesa nodded uncertainly.
“Then you don’t want to see her hurt.”
Keesa shook her head.
“And only you can prevent that,” the squad leader said. “We know she’s lying.”
Keesa’s eyes grew wide. “She is?”
The squad leader nodded. “Where are the Squibs?” he asked. “Where are the humans and their Wookiee?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t lie!” the squad leader snapped. “Lie, and I’ll—”
“Sergeant!”
The squad leader stopped and turned to face the trooper who had barked at him. “Yes?”
“Perhaps she really doesn’t know,” the trooper—the officer, Han assumed—suggested. “Does that prevent her from helping us?”
“I see your point, sir.” The squad leader turned back to Keesa. “Very well, you are—”
“You don’t see, Sergeant.” The officer stepped forward and fixed his lenses on Keesa.
Han and Leia were already following Chewbacca and C-3PO down a dimly lit corridor toward the Squibs’ room.
“If you were trying to hide a party of several beings in this hotel, where would you put them?” the officer asked. “Answer honestly, and I promise no harm will come to you or your employer.”
Keesa pointed down a corridor opposite the way Dama had gone. “The Hutts’ luxury wing. There’s hardly ever anybody in it, since Jabba and Gardulla stopped meeting here.”
Han glanced over the darkened corridor down which they were walking. It was large and round, the way Hutts liked them, with glide ramps instead of steps where the hall changed elevations.
“Get ready,” Han said. “We’ve got company coming.”
But instead of sending the squad rushing off in the direction the Pa’lowick had pointed, the officer turned to the squad leader.
“Sergeant, summon B-squad back to reinforce us and send two men with Keesa to cover the secret exit. As long as she shows them to the proper exit, she is free to go once the Rebels reveal themselves.”
“Yes, sir.” The squad leader assigned two troopers to go with the quivering Pa’lowick and commed the other squad, then asked, “If I may, sir?”
“You have a question.” The officer armed his weapon, and the rest of the squad followed his lead. “Proceed. Questions are good.”
“Are you sure there’s a secret exit?”
“With Hutts, there’s always a secret exit.” The officer waved the rest of the squad down the corridor, but held the leader back long enough to add, “And, Sergeant, questions are good. Doubts are not. If you expect to survive in my command, you will keep the difference in mind.”
The squad leader snapped to attention. “Yes, sir.”
The officer waved him forward and followed down the corridor at a run.
Han came up behind Leia at the door to the Squibs’ room. “Sweetheart?”
Leia pressed her finger to the door buzzer and did not let it up. “Yes, dear?”
“You weren’t planning on slipping out a secret exit, were you?”
Leia half turned and gave him a tight little smile. “Married less than a year, and you already know me so well.”
Chewbacca groaned a warning about being sick.
“Then you’d better do it now,” Han retorted, “because I don’t think you’re going to have a chance later.”
He told them about the stormtroopers Keesa was leading around to cover their escape route, then activated a surveillance lock on the officer. The datapad would now show the Imperial wherever he went. If it came down to a fight—and that seemed likely—Han wanted to know where that officer was at all times.
Leia tapped the door buzzer, as though that would make the Squibs respond faster.
Han brought up a schematic of the building. The luxury wing was a four-room annex in the rear of the Sidi Driss, separated from the rest of the inn by a locked security door. The officer was already passing the first of two intersections before the main corridor dead-ended at the security door.
“What’s taking those Squibs so long?” Leia complained.
“Whatever it is,” Han said, “we either have to leave them or find another way to wake ’em.”
“We can’t leave them,” Leia said. “They know too much.”
Chewbacca extended his climbing claws and ripped the control panel off the wall, setting off an alarm buzzer in the room. He sorted through the tangle of wires, then quickly found the ones he needed, stripped all three by running them between his fangs, and crossed the bared lines.
The oversized door slid open to reveal Emala filling water bottles at the bar sink. Sligh and Grees were struggling to stuff more bottles into a trio of tattered backpacks larger than they were.
“Humans don’t know the meaning of privacy?” Sligh asked.
“Sorry to interrupt your stealing,” Leia shot back. “But we’ve got Imperials coming.”
“Imperials?” Sligh hoisted his pack onto his back and—amazingly—managed to remain standing beneath the weight. “Why didn’t you say so?”
Han checked the borrowed datapad and found the stormtroopers at the wing security door, the squad leader wiring a slicer box into the control panel.
Leia peered over his shoulder. “Trapped again,” she observed. “How do you want to handle it?”
Han glanced around the ornate corridor. He found a repulsor couch hovering in front of a decorative panel that depicted a watery oasis he was sure existed nowhere on Tatooine.
“The secret exit behind there?”
Leia shook her head and pointed to the door across from the Squibs’ room. “Through there. It’s not a real room. Maybe we can pull a Smuggler’s Fade?”
Han shook his head. “This officer’s too good for that.” He pointed back toward their door and the one opposite. “We’d better hit them with a crossfire ambush. Everyone into those rooms.”
As the Squibs lumbered past, Han plucked a jug of water out of Sligh’s pack.
“Hey! You’re unbalancing—”
“It’s not too late to bait our trap,” Han warned.
When Sligh fell silent, Han tossed the water jug under the repulsor couch, then followed Leia and Sligh into the first suite. Chewbacca took C-3PO and the other two Squibs into the room opposite, and they were barely inside before the security doors opened. Han watched on the datapad as the officer and squad leader cross-stitched cautionary blasterfire through the doorway. The two subordinates charged down the corridor with their weapons at the ready, then stopped at the end, one turning around to cover up the corridor while the other peered through the still-open door of the Squibs’ suite.
“Clear!” this one reported. He glanced around the corridor, then kneeled down in front of the repulsor couch and withdrew the water jug Han had thrown under there. “It looks like they’ve used the escape door.”
“You’re quite certain?” The officer was careful to remain hidden behind the security door bulkhead. “You’re willing to wager your life on that?”
“Sir, yes I am.”
“Then you are a waste of stormtrooper armor,” the officer said. “Remove it so the Rebels won’t damage valuable Imperial resources killing you.”
“Sir?”
“That is an order, trooper.” The officer looked across the doorway to his squad leader. “Summon the owner’s escorts. We’ll need them to flush the scum out.”
“Hutt slime!” Han turned to his companions. “We have to take ’em now. Sligh, you hit the floor and fire down the corridor. Leia?”
“Yes?”
“You stay back and be the surprise reserve—”
“Han?”
“Yeah?”
“Not a chance.”
Han sighed. “Okay, you and I fire across the corridor at the officer. Chewie takes the sergeant, and Grees and Emala help Sligh.”
“Sounds good,” Leia said.
“No way!” Sligh objected. “How come the Squibs have to drop on the floor?”
“Because you’re closer,” Leia said.
“And I’ve seen you shoot,” Han said. “You couldn’t hit the officer.”
“Okay, no need to get nasty,” Sligh said, slipping out of his heavy pack. “Just asking.”
Han shook his head, then turned to Leia. “One more thing.”
“I know.” She rose on her toes and kissed him hard and long. It was almost enough to make him forget what they were doing, especially when she finally stopped. “You love me.”
“Yeah, that, too.” Han flashed her a scoundrel’s grin. “But what I really wanted to ask is did you remember to recharge my blaster?”
Leia’s eyes started to flash, then she caught Han’s expression and got a pinched little smile.
“What do you think?” She propped a hand on her hip. “Can we get on with it?”
“Just trying to give that stormtrooper time to get out of his armor.”
Han angled the datapad so that she and Sligh could see that the stormtrooper was obeying his officer’s command—even if he was starting with his shin protection. Then, keeping one eye on the datapad, Han activated his com-link and gave the others across the hall their instructions.
“And what am I to do, Captain Solo?” C-3PO asked.
“Don’t get left behind.”
The officer cocked his head as though listening to a voice inside his helmet, then glanced toward the Solo suite. Though Han had expected the Imperials to be listening for comlink transmissions, he had not thought they would be so quick to pinpoint the source. The Chimaera’s crew was fast starting to look like one of the Empire’s best.
Han dropped the datapad in the pocket of his sand cloak, then simultaneously commed Chewbacca and depressed the OPEN button. “Go!”
The door hissed, and Han and Leia began to pour blasterfire out through the widening gap. Several bolts ricocheted off the officer’s helmet and breastplate, forcing him to roll into a corner behind the security door bulkhead.
Chewbacca’s bowcaster chuffed once from the door opposite. A loud clatter sounded from the direction he had been firing. The acrid fumes of scorched plastoid began to fill the air, and the squad leader’s kicking boots slid into view on the other side of the security door.
Suddenly, the corridor was quiet. Han looked down to find Sligh lying between his feet, no longer firing.
“I thought I told you—”
“Both dead,” Sligh said, rising. “I guess our aim isn’t that—”
“Han!”
Leia jerked him out of the doorway a few milliseconds ahead of a line of blaster bolts.
“Be careful, will you?”
Sligh dropped to his belly and wiggled back into the room, the fur on his back smoking from a near miss. Han tried to return fire and nearly lost his hand as the blaster bolts continued to pour through the door. He felt a hand on his hip, then glanced back to see Leia pulling the data-pad from his cloak pocket.
“It’s only the officer,” Leia said. “He’s out there alone.”
Han peered at the display over her shoulder and saw the stormtrooper lying on the floor at the corner of the security door, arms crossed with a blaster rifle in one hand and blaster pistol in the other, keeping up a constant barrage of fire.
“So much for lower training standards and sagging morale,” Leia said.
“Yeah, you’d think the Emperor had come back to life or something.”
Leia winced. “Han, I wish you wouldn’t say things like that.” She slipped the datapad into her cloak pocket. “I wish you wouldn’t even think them.”
She grabbed Sligh’s pack and dragged it over.
Sligh was instantly at her side. “You’d steal my water?”
“My water—I’m the one paying for it.” Leia traded the straps with Han for his blaster. “You know what to do.”
“Yeah.” He lifted the pack and, surprised by how heavy it was, braced himself to throw. “Be ready.”
“For what?” Sligh stepped toward the pack. “Wait!”
Han hit the Squib on the backswing and sent him tumbling across the suite, then whipped the pack around and launched it through the door.
Even one-handed, the officer was a good shot with a blaster rifle. No sooner had the black shape started flying toward him than he began to pour fire into it, melting the plastoid bottles and instantly superheating several dozen liters of water. Billowing vapor filled the corridor. Leia rushed past Han, pressing his blaster back into his hand, dancing into the steam and raising her pistol toward the officer’s position. Han followed and saw a golden-brown blur launch itself from the opposite doorway, leaping toward a hazy white shape scrambling across the corridor, toward the control panel on the other side of the security door. “Hold on!”
Han reached over Leia’s shoulder, pushing her weapon arm down just as the brown blur flew past. A tremendous thunk sounded from the side of the corridor, followed by the clatter of plastoid armor sliding down the wall and the scrape of weapons being kicked away across the floor. Chewbacca roared in triumph, one hand holding what appeared to be the officer’s head. Then he rowled in astonishment and fell backward, arms flying up to launch the head into Han’s chest.
Han caught the thing in both hands and heard a tinny voice coming from the helmet speaker. “Sir? Sir, are you there?”
Leia filled the corridor with blasterfire again, and Han looked up to see a blurry black oval bouncing back and forth in the steam, growing rapidly smaller as the hazy white armor beneath it dodged down the corridor. Han dropped the helmet—the empty helmet—and added his own fire.
The officer dived for cover and vanished from sight, apparently around the corner of an intersection.
“Chewie, you okay?”
Chewbacca growled and started to clamber up.
A pair of indistinct red eyes appeared ahead, glowing through the dissipating steam from where the officer had escaped. Han locked gazes with the eyes and raised his blaster to fire, but Chewbacca rose and blocked his shot. By the time he could step around the Wookiee, the eyes were gone.
“Did you see that?” Han asked. “Red eyes?”
“Yes,” Leia said. “The Empire using aliens? They must be getting desperate.”
Or maybe just smart, Chewbacca suggested.
C-3PO came out of Chewbacca’s suite, Grees and Emala close behind him. They were not quite staggering under the weight of their packs, but both were hunched far forward.
Han took one look and said, “You’ll never keep up.”
“Is that your problem?” Grees demanded.
“You’ll be happy later that someone has water to sell,” Emala added.
Sligh clattered up, loaded down with blaster rifles and utility belts stripped off dead Imperials.
Han shook his head and started down the corridor. “If they fall behind, Chewie, shoot ’em.”
Sligh stopped to retrieve the squad leader’s rifle and utility belt, and the weapons left by the officer.
Noisy as they were, the Squibs did keep up, and a minute later the group was sneaking out the side door of the Sidi Driss. Leia pointed toward the entrance of what had been a subterranean workshop when the Sidi Driss had still been a moisture farm.
“That’s the garage.”
“Doesn’t look like they have anyone watching it yet.” Han started across the dusty ground toward it. “If we hurry, we can be out of there—”
“You must be sunsick!” Grees huffed up, both hands hanging onto his pack straps. “The Imperials see a landspeeder or swoop leaving this town, there’ll be an assault shuttle on it faster than a farm boy on a womp rat.”
“You have a better idea?” Han asked.
“That would be hard?” Grees twitched his snout and pointed out toward the watering corral on the perimeter of Sidi Driss land, where the humped silhouettes of several dozen dewbacks were arranging themselves into a caravan line. “The idea is to disappear into the landscape.”
Leia came to Han’s side and took his hand. “Han?”
“Yeah?”
“That’s a better idea.”