Bria stared at Han, terrified and furious. “Oh, great! Now what are we going to do?”

Han thought quickly. “We’re getting out of here. The A list is good enough. Bria, you take the knapsack, okay? And here, take this.” Pulling the spare blaster out of his belt, he handed it to her, showed her how to aim it, and where the trigger was. “We may have to fight our way outta here.”

“Wonderful,” she said bitterly. “Under control, right, Vykk? Nothing to worry about!”

Han could only shrug helplessly. This time, it definitely was his fault.

“Which way?” Muuurgh, the practical one, wanted to know. “Through priest’s door or main door?”

Han considered for a second, but was saved from having to make a decision—both doors simultaneously burst open.

Teroenza stood framed in the door to his apartments, snorting with rage. Zavval and a squad of guards filled the big double doors.

Han grabbed Bria and dived behind the huge white jade fountain, while Muuurgh took refuge behind the room’s central support pillar. “Get them!” shrilled Zavval, moving forward on his repulsorlift sled. Teroenza charged like a mad beast, head down, horn ready.

Han snapped off a shot, saw the blue stun bolt, and cursed as he thumbed the weapon’s intensity up to FULL. The stun beam didn’t even slow Teroenza down. Muuurgh aimed, fired, and brought down a Sullustan guard.

Han squeezed the trigger again, but the blaster bolt ricocheted off Zavval’s sled and struck the support pillar nearest the door, burning it half-through. The pillar sagged, but held.

As Teroenza headed for Muuurgh, the big Togorian leaped out and grabbed the High Priest, clutching him around the neck and by his horn. Digging his heels into the carpet, Muuurgh braced himself against the High Priest’s forward motion. The t’landa Til’s momentum caused him to “crack the whip” and his massive hindquarters swung around and slammed into the middle pillar with a huge thump!

The floor quivered, and dust sifted downward from the ceiling. Teroenza’s rear feet skidded, and the High Priest went down. The ground shook again.

Han aimed and snapped off a shot, and a Gamorrean screamed and fell back into the hallway. Bria edged around the fountain, blaster ready, but before she could fire, one of the guards did. She screamed and ducked as a blaster bolt blew out a chunk of the fountain, sending jade fragments flying into the air. Teroenza, struggling back to his feet, let out an anguished howl of protest.

Another blaster bolt sizzled past Han, so close that the Corellian felt it singe his hair. He dropped to the floor, rolled, and snapped off two more shots at the underside of Zavval’s sled. As he’d intended, the blaster bolts hit the housing for the repulsorlift unit. But, instead of sinking to the floor, the sled’s speed and directional controls went wild.

With Zavval vainly trying to control it, the big sled hurtled forward at top speed. Seconds later it slammed into the far wall and bounced off. Mowing down everything in its path, the sled caromed around the collections room, with Zavval a helpless passenger.

A Rodian guard who was concentrating on trying to shoot Han didn’t see it coming and was struck down in a spray of blood. The sled hurtled through a display case, and Teroenza screamed as he saw his precious collection of antique vases reduced to powder.

The Hutt crashed into the opposite wall, and the entire room shook. Dust and debris rained from the ceiling. Han and Bria threw themselves flat as the hurtling sled whanged into one of the jade nymphs and shattered her.

Zavval was yelling, and most of the guards by now had wisely made a quick exit.

Then the sled, with Zavval’s massive weight atop it, plowed directly into the room’s central pillar. The support column buckled and groaned, then bent in two and snapped off—and then the one Han had partially vaporized followed suit.

With a last, agonized groan, the repulsorlift sled settled to the floor and died.

Han stared in frozen horror as, seemingly in slow motion, half of the ceiling rumbled, bulged, cracked, then broke into huge chunks and plummeted down. He recovered himself just in time to grab Bria and yank her out of the way as a huge chunk of stone flooring hurtled at them from the upper level. Throwing her to the floor beneath the bowl of the stone fountain, Han fell on top of her, shielding her.

Zavval screamed shrilly as massive chunks rained down on him, pinning him to the shattered remains of his sled. Dust rose in a choking cloud. Coughing and gagging, Han crawled off Bria as soon as he was sure the ceiling fall had ceased. He stared at the spot where Zavval had been, but all he could see of the buried Hutt overlord was his spasmodically jerking tail.

Teroenza had thrown himself flat beneath the protection of a massive antique table and remained relatively unscathed. When the debris stopped falling, he crawled out from under the dust and rubble of his now-cracked table. Staggering toward Han, Bria, and Muuurgh—the Togorian was sheltering in the doorway to the priest’s apartment—Teroenza howled, slavering with rage. Obviously still intent on revenge, the t’landa Til lowered his head, horn pointed, and charged.

Han aimed and fired a bolt into his right flank, sending him crashing to the floor with a scream. The sickening smell of burned meat filled the air. A blaster bolt from one of the guards struck the fountain again, and tiny shards of sizzling stone whipped by Han’s face. One buried itself in his neck, and when he yanked it free, his fingers came away slick with blood.

Han sighted along the barrel of his blaster, fired, and the last guard went down in a heap.

“Come on!” he yelled, grabbing Bria and the knapsack and gesturing to Muuurgh. “We’re gettin’ outta here!”

Slipping in the rubble and stumbling over bodies, the three thieves headed for the double doors. When they reached them, Han motioned his comrades back and cautiously slid his head around the edge of the door, only to be rewarded by a blaster bolt that nearly took his ear off.

“Muuurgh, take Bria out the other way!” he ordered. “Go through Teroenza’s door, and we’ll catch them in a cross fire. On the count of fifty!”

The Togorian nodded, and he and Bria slithered and slipped back through the ruins of the treasure room, past the moaning Teroenza, through the door of the priest’s apartment.

Silently, Han counted. At fifteen, he stuck his hand around the edge of the door and snapped off four quick shots, and was rewarded with a howl of agony.

One more down …

He waited, breathing hard, trying not to cough on the dust that still filled the air.

Forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine … fifty!

Han dived out the door, hit the corridor rolling, and fired. Red blaster bolts zinged past his legs and where his head would be, but he got another guard, a Whiphid. As they’d planned, Bria and Muuurgh were firing from behind the guards, and two more fell.

The remaining two guards, a Devaronian and a Gamorrean, took to their heels and pounded away from Muuurgh and Bria, leaping over Han’s still-recumbent body as they did so.

Han got shakily to his feet, just in time to hear Muuurgh let out a huge battle roar and grapple with—who? Han couldn’t see anyone!

Has he gone crazy? Han wondered, but then he glimpsed a reddish-orange eye, a mouth full of teeth, and heard a loud hiss. He saw a blaster wave, seemingly in midair, then suddenly he could make out the pale-skinned, warty, scaled being. A skin-changer!

Muuurgh growled and snarled as he savagely attacked the Aar’aa. The Togorian was so much taller than his opponent that Muuurgh was bent over nearly double. Han winced as the Togorian fell to his knees, grasping his foe. The reptilian creature was the exact color of the neutral walls and flooring in the dimly lit corridor. With a motion like a striking gral-viper, the Togorian buried his fangs in the being’s throat and ripped. Reddish-orange blood spurted into the air.

Muuurgh jumped back, and Han watched, fascinated, as the Aar’aa sagged, then fell, with ponderous slowness, to the floor. As the being lay there, it slowly reverted from its pale color to its own natural skin tone, a grayish-tan. Han didn’t have to look twice to know that it was dead.

Bria was staring in horror at the spot where the dead Aar’aa lay. “He almost had me,” she whispered. “If it hadn’t been for Muuurgh …”

“How’d you see him, pal?” Han said, holstering his blaster. “I couldn’t see a thing!”

“I did not see him, I smelled him,” Muuurgh said matter-of-factly. “Togorians hunt by sight and smell. Muuurgh is a hunter, remember?”

“Thanks, pal,” Han said, and put an arm around Bria. “I owe you one. Now we’d better—”

“Look out!” Bria yelled, and Han instinctively ducked. Bria’s blaster went off in stun mode just over his head, making his ears ring. He straightened up in time to see Ganar Tos slowly crumpling to the floor as a blaster slipped from his green fingers.

Han walked over to the old majordomo and, picking up the blaster, slipped it into his belt. Bria came to stand beside him. “All I can think is that if you hadn’t come back today, tonight I’d have been his wife,” she murmured, and shuddered so deeply that Han hugged her reassuringly.

“I’m glad you only stunned him,” Han said. “He may have been a lecherous old creep, but how can I blame him for being attracted to you?” He smiled at her, his eyes very intent.

She glanced down, and her color rose. “I didn’t want to marry him, but I’m glad he’s not dead.”

“Well,” Han said, “I owe you one, honey.”

“No, you don’t,” she said. “We’re even. If it hadn’t been for you, I’d be buried under that ceiling back there, like that Hutt.”

“Yeah, I’m afraid old Zavval’s no longer with us,” Han said. “And I suppose the Hutts will blame me for it.”

For a moment Han remembered Teroenza, who was still alive, only wounded. Should he go back and finish off the t’landa Til? The thought of walking up to a helpless sentient and coldly shooting the creature in cold blood didn’t appeal to him.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, beckoning to Muuurgh, who was licking Aar’aa blood off his paws with fastidious distaste. “C’mon, Muuurgh, you can finish grooming your whiskers later. Don’t forget—Mrrov is waiting.”

As they jogged out of the Administration Center, they could see the glitterstim factory still shooting up blue sparks into the air—but the sky was no longer black, but lighter, almost blue.

“Dawn’s not far off!” Han said. “C’mon!”

The three broke into a run down the jungle path. When they neared the end, Han motioned them to stay back as he cautiously scanned the landing field. He saw no guards … apparently all of them were still fighting the fire or in the Administration Center.

Still, they went cautiously, blasters ready, every sense alert for movement or sound.

When Han reached the Talisman, he quickly coded Bria’s access code into the lock, then the three went up the ramp.

The Talisman was a little larger than the Ylesian Dream, teardrop-shaped, bulging along its keel. But instead of cargo space, most of its interior was given over to lavish passenger quarters and amenities. It was proportioned and laid out for the t’landa Til, so only the pilot’s cabin contained human-style seats. There was one small, human-sized bunk in a guard’s cabin, but the rest of the passenger cabins were outfitted with the sleeping “hammocks” the t’landa Til favored.

Once inside, Han motioned Bria to the copilot’s seat and instructed Muuurgh to strap himself into one of the passenger berths.

He’d never flown this particular ship during his time here—Teroenza had been too worried by the pirate attacks to risk traveling before the weapons and shield upgrades had been completed.

Quickly Han familiarized himself with the controls. The Talisman didn’t have as much weaponry or shielding as the Dream, but for a private yacht, it was now heavily armed and well shielded.

“Preflight checks completed, we’re good to go. Strap in, folks … we are outta here!” Han cried, and raised ship. The Talisman responded well to his touch and seemed a willing—though rather slow—craft.

“Now for Mrrov,” Muuurgh called excitedly. “Right, Vykk?”

“Right, pal,” Han said. “We should be there just at sunrise. Where are they assembling the pilgrims destined for the Kessel ship?”

“The Altar of Promises,” Muuurgh replied.

“The Altar of Broken Promises,” Bria amended, a bitter tone in her voice. “I wonder whether Teroenza will survive?”

“I didn’t wound him that bad,” Han said. “I’ll bet even now he’s on his way to the infirmary and the medical droid.”

As he flew, he kept an eye on the map. “Oh, and by the way, there’s something I’d better tell you two.”

“What?” asked Bria and Muuurgh together.

“My name’s not Vykk Draygo. My real name is Han Solo. It’d be good if you started calling me that.”

“Han?” Bria said. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I was afraid if I did, you might slip and give me away to Teroenza or one of his goons,” Han said matter-of-factly. “But I wanted you to know, so I told you as soon as I could.”

“Vykk was an alias?”

“Yeah. One of several, actually.”

“Muuurgh will have to get used to this,” the Togorian said. “How close are we now … Han?”

“We should be there in less than five minutes,” Han replied.

“How are we going to do this?” Bria asked. “I mean, there will be guards there, too.”

“I don’t know,” Han said. “But I’ll think of something.”

He concentrated on his piloting, and then, when they reached Colony Two, he flew the Talisman over the camp from south to north, skimming low over the treetops. “You said the pilgrims were supposed to assemble at the Altar, right?” Han asked Muuurgh.

“Yesssss.”

“Okay, then, I wonder if we’ll have enough room to do what I’m thinkin’ about …” he muttered, peering at the viewscreen that showed the actual area, and also at the schematic that showed the topographical features and camp buildings. Colony Two was over the Mountains of Faith from Colony One, set on the northeastern edge of the Zoma Gawanga, the shallow ocean that enclosed the entire eastern continent.

“I think we can do it,” he muttered. “I just hope the repulsorlifts on this baby are in prime working condition. We’ll need to hover and lower a wire. I don’t think I’ll have room to actually land. Muuurgh, go back to the middle airlock and see if there’s a wire we can let down. I think most of these ships are equipped with emergency gear, and a wire and hoist should be part of it.”

Muuurgh disappeared, and Han concentrated on flying a slow circuit of the Colony. Bria peered out the viewscreen. “I see them!” she said excitedly. “There’s a big crowd assembling at the Altar!”

“Good,” Han said abstractedly.

Muuurgh reappeared. “Yes, we have a wire. There is a harness that can be attached to it.”

“Okay, pal. Here’s what we’ll do. I’m going to bring this crate down over the amphitheater, real slow. Then I’m gonna set her to hover on her repulsorlifts. Mrrov has no reason to know who we are, so she’s gonna have to get a look at you in order to run over to the ship, right?”

“Yesssss.”

“You’re gonna have to go down in the harness and let Mrrov see you. Bria, you control the wire, okay?”

“All right … Han,” she said.

“Both of you stay sharp. There may be shooting. The ship’s deflectors should protect us against small-arms, but once you’re outside, that won’t count, Muuurgh.”

“I understand.”

“If the guards get too aggressive, I can give ’em a burst from the ship’s light laser cannon,” Han said. “I’ll aim over their heads, so I won’t hit the pilgrims, but that should make the point.”

“Muuurgh is ready, Han.”

“Okay. Here goes.”

Carefully Han brought the Talisman in over the amphitheater, wishing he’d had more time to get used to the “feel” of these controls. He circled the amphitheater, belly holocams on, so he could get a good look at the layout. Han was conscious of all the pilgrims looking up and pointing, as he dropped lower and lower with each pass. Finally, he was close enough to engage the repulsorlifts and hover, about twelve or thirteen meters above the permacrete.

Han could see several priests and a bevy of guards behind the milling crowd of pilgrims. He knew the Sacredots must be wondering why the High Priest’s personal yacht was being used to ferry pilgrims to the Kessel slave ship.

“That’s as low as I can get and hover safely!” Han yelled. “Lower Muuurgh!”

He kept a finger poised over the controls that would lower the light laser cannon, but he didn’t want to make an aggressive move first. Han could hear Bria and Muuurgh talking, their voices muffled by distance. He glanced over at the belly holocam screen just in time to see Muuurgh descending, his blaster still holstered.

The cam didn’t provide audio, but he watched as Muuurgh’s mouth opened, and knew he must be calling to Mrrov.

Guards milled, still uncertain, but clearly uneasy. This whole scenario was highly irregular, and they were getting suspicious. One of the guards shoved his way through the crowd of pilgrims. When the human guard reached the forefront of the crowd, he had his blaster drawn and was clearly calling to Muuurgh to identify himself and state what he was doing.

“Bria,” Han yelled, turning his head, careful not to jostle the controls on the hovering vessel, “stand by! Looks like they’re gonna—”

Two things happened simultaneously: a tall figure in a pilgrim’s robe suddenly broke and raced toward Muuurgh’s dangling figure—and the guard aimed his blaster.

Han had only a glimpse of orange stripes on white fur and knew the running figure must be Mrrov. He saw a spurt of blaster fire from the guard’s weapon, and it was answered twice in rapid succession, by Bria and Muuurgh.

Two more guards drew their weapons and fired. The crowd of pilgrims panicked and scattered, trampling each other and the guards.

Han lowered the light laser cannon, grateful for the pirate attacks that had made Teroenza decide to beef up the ship’s shielding and weapons capability. He fired a burst, careful to aim over the heads of the running, screaming crowd.

More fire from the guards—and Han heard a faint yowl of pain! Checking the screen, he saw Muuurgh sag in his harness, clutching his side, though he still gripped his weapon. Mrrov reached him a second later and leaped tc wrap her arms and legs around her mate, anchoring her tc him.

Bria was firing steadily now, and Han saw a Gamorrean go down. The wire was ascending now, revolving slowly with its off-balance load. Mrrov grabbed Muuurgh’s blaster out of his lax hand and fired over his shoulder. Han couldn’t see whether she hit her target.

Han saw that most of the pilgrims had scattered, and only guards and priests remained near the Altar. Many of the guards had scattered in the crowd, but a few were still there, still firing. Han targeted the Altar of Promises, made sure his aim had pinpoint accuracy, and fired the laser cannon again.

The Altar went up with a boom Han could hear from inside the Talisman. Dust spurted up, and bits of stone rained down. The priests scattered, galloping away. Har was surprised by how fast and maneuverable their huge four-footed bodies were. The guards had vanished.

Quiet suddenly reigned. Seconds ticked by, but outside nothing was stirring. A few bodies, both guards and pilgrims, lay motionless where they’d been trampled in the panic.

From the nether regions of the ship, he heard Bria’s voice. “I’ve got them! Let’s go!”

Han checked that the bay doors were safely closed, then took the Talisman up in a rush. The belly holocams showed a dizzying view of the amphitheater receding into the distance. Han flicked them off as he circled, checking the weather in relation to his closest escape vector.

Ironically, he’d have to angle back toward Colony One for the best “window” off Ylesia. Han gunned the Talisman and took her south and up … up …

We’re almost there, he thought with a rush of excitement. Almost free …

   Muuurgh repressed a moan as his shoulder banged against the side of the Talisman. He felt Bria’s hands on him, then he heard Mrrov’s voice say, in Basic: “Help me up. I can lift him.”

He clung to the harness with his good hand and felt Mrrov’s body brush against his as she was pulled into the hovering Talisman. The wound in his side was the fire-stab of a night-demon’s talons. It was all he could do to breathe and make no sound. He was a hunter, and hunters knew how to be quiet.

The blaster shots had stopped. Muuurgh opened his eyes as the harness revolved slowly and saw that the Altar of Promises had been blown apart. Perhaps that had been the loud explosion he’d heard. At the time he’d thought it was inside his head.

The blaster wound was throbbing now, in waves. Muuurgh struggled to stay conscious as Bria and Mrrov grabbed his arms and hauled him, still in the harness, into the Talisman. Dimly, he was aware of the cargo airlock being sealed behind him.

Then he heard Bria’s voice call out: “I’ve got them! Let’s go!”

Muuurgh lay on the deck, breathing shallowly, but a little of his strength was returning. He could hear Mrrov talking to Bria. “Is there a medic kit aboard?”

“I’ll check!” With a rustle, the human was gone, leaving him alone with Mrrov. With an effort, Muuurgh opened his eyes.

When she saw him looking up at her, Mrrov leaned over and lovingly rubbed his cheek with her own, exchanging scent, “My hunter,” she murmured in their own language, licking his face tenderly. “You tracked me. You are the greatest hunter our people have ever known!”

“Mrrov …” Muuurgh managed to whisper.

“Quiet,” she said. “Don’t try to talk. Your wound is serious, though I believe it will heal, in time. Oh, Muuurgh! When I saw you come down from the belly of this ship, I could not believe that it was you! For all these days and weeks, I have wondered whether you would ever find me—and you did!”

“You knew I was here?” Muuurgh was confused. “If you knew, then why—”

Her lovely, orange-striped features were troubled as she gave him another cheek rub. Her whiskers entangled with his own, and Muuurgh sighed with pleasure, despite his pain.

“I had only been here a short while, when I realized that this entire place was a sham. I was searching for truths, but there are only lies, here. So I told the priests I wanted to leave. They showed me your picture, Muuurgh! They told me if I tried to leave, they would kill you!”

“So you stayed? You should have torn their throats out!” Muuurgh protested.

“At the cost of your life?” She shook her head, her eyes large and vividly golden. “No, my mate-to-be. I dared not take the chance. I only hoped that someday you would find me, and that you would have a ship. And … that day has finally come.”

Muuurgh nodded weakly. “Thanks to … Vykk … Han …”

Bria came running back into the cargo compartment. “I found it!”

Moments later Muuurgh’s pain was ebbing, and Mrrov and Bria were bandaging the wound in his side. “You’re going to have an awful scar, Muuurgh,” Bria said, sounding dismayed.

“Hunters show their scars proudly, on Togoria,” Mrrov said. “Muuurgh will heal, and he will have a scar everyone will envy.”

Suddenly the ship shuddered. Bria shouted, “Han! What was that?”

“Someone’s shooting at us!” he yelled from the bridge. “Someone get up here and man the weapons station! I need Muuurgh!”

Muuurgh struggled to get up. “No,” Mrrov said. “I will do it. Among my people, females have the technical expertise. I am an engineer. I will do it.”

Muuurgh opened his eyes, saw Bria’s doubtful expression, and said, “Believe her. Muuurgh was not a very good shot, anyway. Ask Pilot …”

He closed his eyes, feeling blackness waiting behind the lids. He could resist it no longer … so, with a sigh, Muuurgh let himself slide under …

   Han glanced at the tall Togorian form that slid into the copilot’s seat beside him and started in surprise. “You’re not Muuurgh!”

“I am Mrrov,” the female Togorian introduced herself. She’d doffed her pilgrim’s robe, and her glorious white and orange-striped coat blazed like fire. “I will handle the weapons for you. Acquaint me with what we have, please. You will find I am a far better weapons officer than Muuurgh. In our species, females are the technicians and experts with instruments.” She glanced over at Han, and he saw that her slit-pupiled eyes were bright yellow. “Besides, Muuurgh is wounded, and in no shape for this.”

“Is he gonna be okay?” Han felt a stab of concern.

“He should be. My people are very strong and hardy. Bria—is that her name?” Han nodded. “Your Bria is with him. He is resting.”

“Okay,” Han said. “This baby doesn’t have a lot of weaponry, but it’s got some concussion missiles and a light laser cannon. Right down there. Laser cannon to your right, missile launchers to your left. Targeting computer is straight in front of you.”

“Very well.” After spending a moment checking the board before her, she nodded. “I can do this. Who shot at us?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Han said tightly, studying his readouts. “I don’t think the priests have surface-to-air stuff, but I’m hanged if I can see—”

He broke off with a whoop of laughter, just as the Talisman shuddered again. Mrrov looked at Han, who was still chuckling, as if he were crazy.

“It’s okay,” he said.

She pointed at the technical readout of their surrounding space. It showed several storm cells, safely removed in distance from their escape vector, but it also showed a small, teardrop-shaped craft rapidly gaining on the Talisman. “What do you mean, ‘okay’? There is someone pursuing us and shooting at us, and they are gaining!”

“Aahhhh … it’s just old Jalus Nebl in the Ylesian Dream,” Han said, waving a dismissive hand. “The priests must’ve ordered him to come up here and shoot our asses down.” He chuckled again.

Talisman lurched slightly. Han laughed again.

Mrrov was staring at him, obviously wondering if his mind had snapped from the strain. Han grinned at her cheerfully. “You don’t understand,” he said.

“No,” agreed Mrrov. “Would you care to explain it to me?”

“Sure. Jalus Nebl and I are friends. He wouldn’t shoot me down any more than I’d shoot him. So he’s firing his laser cannon, just missing us by a hair each time, making it look good. We’re gaining speed every minute, and soon, we’re gonna be out of the atmosphere, and five minutes after that, we’ll be out of the planet’s gravity well. We’re fine, Mrrov. Trust me.”

Mrrov’s whiskers twitched. “I believe I am beginning to understand. Your friend Jalus Nebl is putting on a show of attempting to shoot us down? So we have nothing to worry about?”

“Right,” Han said cheerfully. “We’re almost clear of the atmosphere, and if Nebl’s got a grain of sense, he’ll take the Ylesian Dream and get his droopy-jowled little carcass off Ylesia, too. Or maybe he’s decided to hang in with the priests and ask for a raise. They’ll be desperate, with only one pilot left.”

Another near-hit caused the Talisman to shiver. “That was close,” Han muttered, checking his ship’s hull and systems. “The little so-and-so’s showing off.”

He continued to track the Ylesian Dream as it followed them up through the last of the stratosphere, into the thin layer of ionosphere. Ahead lay the thinnest whisper of upper atmosphere—the exosphere.

As they burst upward, Han turned his attention to the navicomputer, checking on the programming for their jump to hyperspace. They wouldn’t be clear of Ylesia’s gravity well for several minutes yet, but he wanted to be ready.

“I see a vehicle on our sensors,” Mrrov said. “Above us, in our path.”

“That’s just the space station. It orbits in a synchronous orbit with Colony One,” Han said, not looking up. “That’s where they off-load the pilgrims when the ships bring them in. You must’ve been there.”

“No, Han.” Mrrov’s voice was suddenly urgent. “I remember it very well, but that’s not it. That’s no space station—it’s a spaceship! A big one!”

Finally alarmed, Han looked up—and abruptly swore in six languages. “That’s a Corellian corvette! What’s it doing here?”

His hands flew over the controls as he began evasive maneuvers, increasing speed and sheering away from the huge vessel. With one part of his mind, Han noted the blip that was the Dream streaking off in the opposite direction.

Suddenly the Talisman jerked hard and bucked. The engine began to strain. “What’s wrong?” Mrrov demanded, just as Bria burst into the cabin.

“Han … what happened?” she asked.

Han cut in the auxiliary power, felt the Ylesian yacht strain, but … it … wasn’t … going … to … be … enough—

“No!” he yelled, frustrated, on the verge of panic. “No, we can’t go back!”

His passengers stared at him, wide-eyed with fear, as Han began shutting down his engines to avoid burning them out.

As he did so, a voice erupted from the comm unit. “Attention, Talisman. This is Captain Ngyn Reeos in command of the Corellian corvette Helot’s Shackle out of Kessel. We advise you to shut down your engines. You are caught in our tractor beam.”

“I know!” Han yelled, not bothering to activate his comm unit. “Thanks for telling me!”

Captain Reeos went on, inexorably. “We have detained you because I have been advised by planetary authorities that you have taken the Talisman without authorization. These same planetary authorities have asked that we deliver you back to Ylesia to face charges there. Prepare to be boarded. Any attempt at resistance will be met with summary force.”

Han stared at the narrow-waisted vessel with its eleven huge reactor tubes. The corvette was easily twenty times the size of his ship. He noted that the corvette had been modified so it had a docking bay.

“That’s a huge ship,” Bria whispered. “We’re being pulled toward it, Han.”

“There’s nothing I can do, sweetheart,” Han said dully. “They’ve got us caught—we can’t break free.”

“How many crew aboard that ship?” Mrrov asked, staring as if mesmerized at the slave ship—the ship that had come to fetch her and the other pilgrims to a grim fate in the mines.

“With a Navy crew aboard, the complement is 165. But this is a modified corvette. It’s been altered to dock in space—probably to make it easier to take on cargo—or slaves. Crew size is probably forty or fifty.”

“Too many to fight,” Bria said, her voice ragged.

“They’re not getting me without a fight,” Han said. He drew his blaster and looked at them. “Who’s with me?”

Bria just shook her head. “The three of us? Against forty? Han, you’ve got more courage than sense!”

He shook his head and, with a sudden, vicious gesture, holstered his blaster again. “You’re right. But I don’t have to like it.”

Without warning, a sudden crackle of a different frequency filled the control cabin. A voice spoke in rapid-fire Sullustan. “Full throttle. Port turn. Seven seconds—Mark!”

“What the—” Han’s fingers moved automatically as he throttled back up, using every bit of power he could squeeze out of the main and auxiliary engines. The sound of the straining engines was painful to hear as they revved, uselessly fighting the inexorable tractor beam.

By now the Talisman had been nearly drawn into the gaping maw of the ship’s docking bay. Only a few hundred meters separated the two ships.

Han programmed his controls for a hard port turn, and his hand hovered, ready to implement the command. The engines strained and revved. In moments they’d burn out. “What’s that crazy little—”

He broke off with a gasp as the Ylesian Dream came streaking toward them, moving at terrible speed.

Everyone in the Talisman’s control cabin ducked as the little freighter flashed by overhead, then banked hard to starboard. Jalus Nebl took the Ylesian Dream between the Talisman and Helot’s Shackle at full throttle. The distance was so tight that the little Sullustan had to turn the Dream on her side to make it between the two closing vessels.

“Go!” cried Han. “Go, Nebl!” He activated the controls, turning the Talisman as hard to port as he could.

When the Dream rushed between the two ships, it broke the tractor beam for a few precious seconds. Han’s suddenly released ship ricocheted away from the Corellian corvette like a blaster bolt, sheering off to the left, while Jalus Nebl sped away to the right.

“Yeeeeehah!” Han yelled in sheer exultation as he felt his ship soaring away from the Helot’s Shackle. As he swooped by the huge vessel, just for good measure, Han fired two concussion missiles at the Shackle’s principle solar collector and stabilizer fin, which was located dorsally amidships.

He watched, openmouthed, as the first missile wiped out the minimal shield that had been all that was protecting the fin, allowing the second missile to explode with deadly force, destroying most of the fin. “They had their heavy shields down, those idiots!” he whooped. “They thought they had us, so they left that fin almost unshielded!”

He knew the corvette could still be a threat to them, so he didn’t slow down. Neither did Jalus Nebl. The little Sullustan was still gaining speed when Han’s sensors reported several minutes later that he’d successfully made the jump to hyperspace.

“And we’re next,” Han said, grinning at Bria. “Say goodbye to paradise, sweetheart …”

With a flourish, he stabbed down at the controls that would take them into hyperspace, and gloried in the sudden surge of power that thrust them out of realspace and into star-streaked brilliance.

“Home free,” Han whispered, and slumped into his seat, only just now aware of how very, very tired he was.

Bria smiled at him and squeezed his hand. Mrrov gave him a cheek rub. “Thank you,” they both whispered.

Han had never felt so good …