The trip to Coruscant was uneventful. True to his promise, Han related his history to Bria, in unvarnished detail. It bothered him to have to admit many of the things he’d done in the past, but he took his promise to her seriously, and he was as honest as he could be.

At first, Han worried that Bria might be repelled by all of the things he’d done during his checkered past, but she reassured him, saying that she loved him more, now that she knew the truth.

The five-day voyage to Coruscant was a long one. Han was beginning to suffer from boredom by the time the passenger liner docked at one of the massive space stations that serviced the huge Imperial city-world.

From the space station, the passengers were told, they’d be shuttled down to the spaceport in small ships. Han was surprised to discover that there was almost no place on the giant world where the natural ground could be seen or touched.

“Only in Monument Plaza,” their steward told the assembled passengers who’d traveled on the liner Radiance. “There citizens may touch the top of the only mountain on the planet that still remains. About twenty meters of the peak extends into the air. The remainder is all hidden beneath buildings.”

Coruscant, it seemed, was a warren of buildings, skyscrapers, towers, rooftops, and more buildings, all built one upon the other in a giant, labyrinthine hodgepodge. Han raised his hand when the steward asked whether there were any questions. “You say that the topmost rooftops are more than a kilometer above the lowest-level streets? What’s down there?”

The Radiance’s steward shook his head warningly. “Sir, take my word for it. You do not want to know. The lowest levels never see the sun. They are so far beneath the clean air that they are fetid and damp and have their own weather systems. Foul rain drips down the sides of the buildings. The alleys are infested with granite slugs, duracrete worms, shadow-barnacles … and, worst of all, by the degenerate remnants of what once used to be human beings. These troglodytes are pale carrion and garbage eaters, disgusting in every way.”

“Huh,” Han whispered to Bria, “sounds like my kinda place.”

“Stop it!” she hissed, smothering a grin. “You are such a smart-mouth …”

“I am, I really am.” Han sat back in his seat, chuckling. “I’m impossible. I don’t know how you put up with me.”

“Neither do I,” Bria said, smiling wryly.

The couple made their way over to one of the viewports on the station while they were waiting for a “surface” shuttle down. “It’s like some beautiful golden gem,” Bria whispered. “All those lighted buildings …”

“It looks like a corusca jewel,” Han said, eyeing the planet thoughtfully. “Must be where the world got its name.”

They were standing in line, waiting to enter the shuttle, when an official stepped forward and pointed at Han’s blaster. “Sorry, sir, you’ll have to check your weapon. Guns aren’t permitted on Coruscant.”

Han stood there for a long moment; then with a shrug he unbuckled the tie-down strap from around his thigh, then released the big buckle that fastened his gunbelt. Wrapping the belt around the holster and weapon, Han handed it over to the official and received a numbered token in return. “Just give this to the official before boarding your return transport,” the man said, “and you’ll receive your weapon, sir.”

Han and Bria got back into line. Han grimaced at how light his right leg felt without the customary weight against his thigh. “I feel naked,” he mumbled to Bria. “Like I’m in one of those nightmares when you show up for something important and suddenly realize you forgot your pants.”

She began to giggle at the idea. “I didn’t know men had dreams like that, too.”

“I don’t have ’em often,” Han said grimly.

“Well, if nobody’s armed, then it’s still even,” she pointed out reasonably.

Han gave her a look as they started down the aisle of the surface shuttle. “Honey, don’t be naive. There’s an underworld on this planet, and you can bet your pretty eyes they’re armed.”

She glanced over at him as they fastened their seat restraints. “How do you know?”

“I took a look at the Imperial guards. They were all armed. I saw security guards on Alderaan, and none of the ones I saw were armed. So it’s a good bet whoever they would be going up against wasn’t either. But these Imperials are armed, and wearing armor, too. Gotta be a reason for it.”

Bria shrugged. “I have to admit, your reasoning makes sense.”

“I’m gonna feel strange walking into that bank tomorrow, with no blaster at my side,” Han said, looking sadly at his empty thigh.

“Come on, Han,” she whispered, “of all the places in the world, they wouldn’t let you walk into a bank armed!”

“Why not?” Han asked. “It’s not like a guy could swipe the credits. They don’t keep hardly any credit disks there, or coins either. It’s all electronic data entry onto personal IDs. Good system,” he added thoughtfully. “Saves on guards.”

“Well, it’s a moot point, since you had to leave your blaster,” she said, watching the city-world grow in the viewport. Soon they’d be entering the atmosphere.

“Yeah. Listen, Bria, I guess this is as good a time as any to discuss contingency plans,” Han said.

“For what?” she demanded, alarmed. “Are you expecting trouble?”

“Keep your voice down,” he cautioned. “Nope, I’m not expecting trouble. This should be a smooth operation, a piece of cake. ‘Jenos Idanian’ is clean, ’cause I only used him to open the account and deposit the money. He should be laser-proof. But, baby … I learned long ago to always plan for trouble.”

“Okay,” she said. “What do you want to plan for?”

“That’s a big city, a big world,” Han pointed out, just as the shuttle kissed the upper edges of the atmosphere. “If anything happens and we get separated, I want to set up a meeting place.”

“Okay, that makes sense,” she said. “Where?”

“The only address I know, ’cause I memorized the location a long time ago, is a bar called ‘The Glow Spider.’ That’s where I’ll be contacting Nici the Specialist,” he said, keeping his voice very low, but not … quite … whispering. Whispers drew attention, Han had learned long ago, where low-voiced conversations did not.

“That’s the guy who can get people IDs so perfect that even the Imperials can’t detect them?”

“Yeah. He’s got contacts with the people in the Imp offices who actually make the IDs. They’re perfect, trust me. Okay, so it’s Nici the Specialist. He hangs out at The Glow Spider. Got that?”

“Nici the Specialist. Glow Spider,” she repeated. “Where is it?”

“Level 132, megablock 17, block 5, subblock 12,” Han recited. “Memorize that perfectly. This world is a maze, Bria.”

Silently she repeated the location to herself over and over, until she could say confidently, “I’ve got it.”

“Good.”

When they reached the “surface”—the rooftop landing field where the shuttle landed—Han left Bria with their scanty luggage while he went over to an automated tourist center to get information and directions. He and Bria needed an inexpensive place to stay while he prepared for the entrance examinations for the Academy. Han planned to rent a cheap room for the duration.

When he came back to Bria, she saw that he had a palm-sized locator computer. “How much did that cost?” she asked, eyeing it worriedly. Their funds from the sale of the Ylesian yacht were running low.

“Only twenty,” Han said. “This world’s too easy to get lost on, I figure. All I gotta do is enter our destination, like this …” Squinting with concentration, he entered, “Level 86, megablock 4, block 2, subblock 13 …”

“What’s that?”

“The place where I got us a room for tonight,” Han answered, not looking up. “And … there!”

Directions from their present location appeared on the screen. “First, we take the turbolift down to level 16 …” Han muttered, looking around. “There!”

They headed for the sign marked TURBOLIFT.

Once aboard the lift, Bria gasped at the precipitous drop. They fell … and fell …

“Like being in space,” Han said uneasily. “Almost free fall …”

“My stomach doesn’t like this,” Bria gulped.

Fortunately, the turbolift slowed as it reached its destination. Bria staggered off, looking slightly green.

“Now to find megablock 4 …” Han mumbled, still concentrating on his little gadget. “Then we’ll go down again …”

Once out of the turbolift, Bria looked around her in wonder and growing claustrophobia. Everywhere buildings loomed over her, so high she had to crane her neck to see their tops. The tops of many of them supported another rooftop, probably like the one she was standing on.

Even though it had been bright (but chilly) daylight up on the landing pad, here it was dark and warm. No air seemed to move in the duracrete and transparisteel canyons between the buildings. She heard a distant rumble of thunder, but no rain reached her, and she had no way of telling whether the storm was above her or below her.

Occasional unbarricaded airshafts broke the permacrete on the rooftop, and about a hundred meters away, Bria could see the abrupt line of demarcation at the end of the pavement. Evidently a thoroughfare ran at the deepest levels.

She walked over to look down one of the airshafts and, after one brief glance, staggered back, head spinning and her palms crawling with vertigo. She glanced around, saw no one near her, then dropped to her hands and knees and crawled back to peek over again. As long as she wasn’t standing, she thought that the dizziness might not be too bad.

Nearing the edge of the lip, she held on with both hands and peered down the airshaft.

The airshaft went down … and down … and down. It was amazing, frightening, to imagine her body falling down that seemingly bottomless expanse, helplessly turning and twisting in midair.

Bria stared down, shaking. If she were to lean a little farther, just a tiny bit farther, she’d fall down that shaft. It would be effortless. She wouldn’t have to jump, no. Just … lean … and if she did that, she’d never have to feel the pangs of longing for the Exultation again. She’d be free from the pain, the craving. She’d be free …

Both drawn and repelled, Bria swayed, leaning farther toward the edge … farther …

“What are you doing?”

A hand grabbed her shoulder, yanking her back, away from that yawning drop into nothingness. Bria looked up dazedly, to see Han staring at her, his features twisted with worry. “Bria, honey! What were you doing?”

She put a hand to her head, shook it dizzily. “I … I don’t know, Han. I felt … so strange.” Gulping, black dots dancing before her eyes, she struggled not to faint or be sick.

Han pushed her head down between her knees, then knelt beside her as she trembled. He stroked her hair, hugged her tightly as her shudders intensified. She was shaking all over. “Easy … easy … just take it easy.”

Finally, Bria looked up, feeling her shivers abate a little. “Han, I don’t know what happened. I felt so strange for a moment there. I think I almost fell …”

“You did,” he said grimly. “It’s called vertigo, sweetheart. I’ve seen people get it before, out in space, when they look ‘down’ and lose their bearings. C’mon. I know which way to go, now. We’re gonna take a horizontal tube for a ways.”

In the tube, Bria huddled against Han, and he held her gently. Gradually, her shivering eased. “Doesn’t it bother you?” she asked. “This world? It oppresses me. Fascinates me, but oppresses me, too.”

“Don’t forget, I grew up in space,” Han reminded her. “Not much room for vertigo or claustrophobia there. I must’ve gotten adjusted long ago, because this place doesn’t bother me. But you … you grew up on Corellia, with a sky above you all the time. No wonder you freaked.”

“I’m not going to try looking down again,” Bria said.

“Good idea.”

After several more turbolift descents, they reached the little hostel where Han had reserved a room and paid for it in cash out of their dwindling funds. “When are you going to get our money at the Imperial Bank?” Bria asked, throwing herself down on the bed and stretching out with a tired sigh.

“I’ll go first thing tomorrow morning,” Han said. “Listen, honey, you look beat. I’ll go get some food and bring it back here. We’ll turn in early.”

“But don’t you want to see the sights?” Bria asked, thinking privately that his plan sounded like the best thing she’d heard all day.

“Plenty of time for that. I just want to eat and then sleep. Maybe watch the vid-unit, see what kind of propaganda Imperial City is putting out these days.”

“Okay,” Bria said, smothering an exhausted yawn. “I like your plan.”

   The next morning Han left Bria munching a pastry in their room and sipping stim-tea. “I’ll be back in an hour or so,” he told her. “Once I’ve got the money, we’ll head over and find that bar I told you about. What’s its name?”

“The Glow Spider,” she repeated dutifully.

“And where is it?”

She recited the location.

“That’s great,” Han said approvingly. “If I get lost, you can get me there.”

She chuckled. “Is this place harder to navigate than space?”

“In some ways,” Han said. He gave Bria a kiss between the eyes. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, see you later.”

With a cheerful wave, he was gone. Bria lay back on the bed with a sigh. Maybe I’ll just sleep late, she thought, stretching luxuriously.

   The Imperial Bank of Coruscant took up three levels in a monstrous, top-level skyscraper. Han walked up to the doors, and looked in. The lobby was enormous, all smoked glassine, black duracrete and marble, and dully shining transparisteel.

Taking a deep breath, and still missing the weight of his blaster, he walked in and up to the high, shining counter. The lobby was bustling with business types and citizens, and Han both looked and felt out of place in his old pilot’s coverall, now stripped of all insignia, and his battered old jacket and boots.

The more uncomfortable he felt, the more arrogantly he held himself.

He had to wait in line for several minutes, but then found himself facing a woman clerk. She was young and pretty, but her gaze was impersonal—until Han gave her his best lopsided grin. Almost against her will, she smiled back. “Good morning,” Han said. “I opened an account a little while ago, on Corellia, knowing I’d be comin’ here. Like to withdraw the funds now.”

“You wish to close out your account?”

“Yeah.”

“Very well, sir, may I have your ID card? We will transfer the funds to that, and then they will be accessible from any credit port on Coruscant or any of the inner-system worlds. Will that be satisfactory, Master.…” Han slid the card beneath the glassine barrier to her. “Idanian?”

“That’ll be okay,” Han said, having to fight the urge to demand it all in credit vouchers and coin. If he did something that unusual, he’d be bound to appear suspicious.

The clerk scanned the card, and her eyebrows rose slightly as she took in the amount in the account. Never expected a guy like me to have that kind of funds, Han realized, grimly amused.

“Sir, this sum exceeds the amount I am authorized to disburse without approval from my supervisor. If you will wait just a moment, I will get that approval, then disburse the funds to your card.”

There wasn’t much Han could say except, “Okay.”

Left standing at the desk, he suppressed the urge to fidget, and forcibly restrained himself from overtly scanning the huge lobby for guards or security.

Take it easy, he ordered himself. You know that with a withdrawal this big, they have to get it okayed. At least I know for sure that Okanor transferred the funds the way I told him to …

Han saw the clerk speaking rapidly to a big, heavyset man in a posh business suit. The man nodded, took Han’s ID card, and approached him on Han’s side of the barrier. “Jenos Idanian?” he asked courteously. He had a chubby, pink face, pale blue eyes, and a balding pate with sparse white hair.

“Yeah,” Han said.

“I am Parq Yewgeen Plancke, the manager of this facility. I have authorized your withdrawal, sir, but before I can give you back your card, I would like to see an additional piece of ID, purely as a formality.” The man smiled politely. “Financial institutions are subject to these rules, I’m afraid. Will you step into my office?”

He waved at a glassine-enclosed cubicle. Han’s hackles rose, but he could see the entire office, and there was no one else in there, no guards anywhere in evidence. “Okay,” he said, “but I’m kinda in a hurry, so I hope it doesn’t take long.”

“Only a second,” Plancke assured him, waving Han on ahead.

The Corellian walked into the office confidently, but every sense was alert, every muscle coiled for action. Plancke’s office was blandly reassuring—an expensive black marble-topped desk, with a stylus and styl-pad resting atop it. An ultra-modern flower arrangement of black lorchads graced the corner of the desk. There were two visitor chairs, and Plancke’s expensive cloned black leather chair.

“Have a seat, Master Idanian,” Plancke said, gesturing to a chair. Han sat down. “Now, if you will give me another source of ID, I can scan it in and you will be on your way.”

Han got the ID out without demur, but he didn’t miss a move Plancke made. For two credits, I’d hightail it outta here, he thought. I got a bad feeling about this …

Plancke took the ID, scanned it in. “Oh, dear,” he said, not sounding at all surprised or regretful, “I’m afraid we have a problem, sir. I have been ordered to place a freeze on your account. I cannot give you any of your money.”

Han was up and out of his chair. “What? But I—what in the name of the galaxy is going on here?”

Plancke shook his head. “I only know that the Bank has been contacted by Inspector Hal Horn of CorSec. Your funds are suspected of being illegally accrued, and are frozen, pending a thorough investigation by Imperial and Corellian Security.”

Han didn’t waste his breath arguing, just headed for the door. His chest felt as though it were caught in a gee-vise. No … it can’t end like this …

He was a meter from the thick, smoked-glassine door when he heard an electronic click. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m afraid I’ve been advised to hold you here for Imperial security forces,” Plancke said, sounding as if he was enjoying his chance to be a hero. “Have a seat.”

Han turned and looked back at the fat man. He was smiling blandly, his round little pink cheeks making him look like a jolly sprite out of a child’s story. “I’ve also signaled for our guard. He should be here any moment. Please … have a seat while you wait to be arrested.”

Rage filled Han with a strength he didn’t know he possessed. “Over my dead body!” he snarled, bounding forward. He threw himself over the desk, grabbing the bank manager’s writing stylus as he did so. Slamming into the astonished Plancke, he took him over backward in his expensive chair. In a second, he had the sharp point of the stylus positioned just behind Plancke’s chubby pink earlobe. “One shove,” he gritted, “and this slides between your jawbone and your skull, straight into your brain, Plancke. If you have one. You got a brain, Plancke?”

“Yes …”

“Good, then use it. I’m already mad … so don’t push me any further, understand?”

Han could feel all the muscles of Plancke’s throat contract as he swallowed. His voice was hoarse and shrill with fear. “Yes …”

“Good,” Han said. “Now, I’m gonna get off you, and you’re gonna get up and sit back down in your fancy chair. You’re gonna let your guard in when he shows up, just like everything is fine … understand?”

“Yes …”

Moving precisely, Plancke did as he’d been told. Han crouched behind Plancke’s chair, and now the hand holding the stylus sent the sharp instrument prodding into the man’s back. “Trust me, Plancke,” Han said, “one good thrust into the kidney will cause you more pain than you ever want to know. Might kill you. Want to take that chance?”

“No …”

“Good. Here comes your guard. Let him in.”

“Yes …”

The door lock clicked, and the guard entered. In a second Han was on his feet, the point of the stylus digging into Plancke’s throat again. “Tell him!”

“Don’t move,” Plancke said desperately. “He’ll kill me!”

“He’s right,” Han said with a feral grin. “And I’ll enjoy it, too. Now you,” he said, “do exactly as you’re told, if you want to see your next pay voucher. Place your blaster here on Plancke’s desk. Move real slow, understand?”

“Yessir,” the guard said. He was an elderly human, and looked terrified at the thought of actually having to do anything besides stand around, wearing his blaster.

Slowly, carefully, the guard removed the blaster from his holster, placing it on the black marble. Han reached over left-handed, and picked it up. “Now … under the desk. Don’t come out until I tell you to,” he said.

“Yessir.”

Han placed the muzzle of the blaster against Plancke’s temple, still hugging the fat man to him. “Now we’re leaving this bank,” he said tightly. “We’re walking outta here, slow and nice. We’re heading for the turbolift. When I get there, if you’ve been a good little bank manager, I’m gonna let you go. Understand?”

“Yes …”

“Good.”

They were halfway across the lobby before anyone noticed that something was amiss. A man yelled, another man squawked with fear, and a woman let out a shriek.

Han pointed the blaster at the ceiling and pulled the trigger. Flaming debris rained down. “Everybody down!” he shouted.

His command was unnecessary. Every citizen was already cowering on the expensive carpet. “Okay, Plancke … nice and easy now …”

Together they moved toward the doors, then out through them. Han relaxed his grip on Plancke slightly, ready to shove the big man down and then leap into the turbolift. He refused to think about what he was going to do afterwards! One thing at a time, he cautioned himself. One thing at a time …

He kept a sharp lookout as he and Plancke walked toward the turbolift, and so he spotted the squad of Imperial stormtroopers before they saw him. Han yanked Plancke tightly against him and placed the blaster to the man’s head. “Don’t shoot!” Plancke babbled as the troopers leveled their weapons. “I’m the one who called you! I’m the bank manager!”

Han backed toward the turbolift, dragging the heavy man with him. A glance at its lights reassured him that the lift was on its way to this level.

“He’s getting away!” yelled one of the stormtroopers. Han stood before the door, tense, sweating, and ready to jump out of his skin. But he betrayed none of that, only waited, his body shielded behind the bank manager’s trembling, corpulent form.

Han heard the turbolift doors slide open behind him. “Don’t let him escape! Open fire!” yelled the stormtrooper officer.

“Noooooo!” screamed Plancke as the sizzle of blaster bolts filled the air.

Han jumped back, smelling burned flesh, dragging Plancke’s falling body with him into the turbolift. He snapped off a shot, just as the turbolift doors closed, then slammed his fist against the lowest button on the bank of floors.

The high-speed turbolift dropped like a stone.

Gasping, Han managed to stagger to his feet. One look told him Plancke was dead. Too bad. He’d have let the man go, if those troopers hadn’t started trouble …

Han’s ears popped rapidly as the turbolift hurtled down. Quickly he pulled out his map-link and checked his location. If the link was correct, this lift would take him down about a hundred fifty stories, then he’d have to catch another.

The moment the lift doors opened, Han sprang out. The Corellian had dragged Plancke’s body into the darkest corner of the lift, so it couldn’t be seen from the front. Han had also shoved his blaster inside his leather jacket, but his hand rested lightly on its grip, ready to draw.

The scene that met his eyes was entirely peaceful. Citizens strolled along a passageway between buildings, and from somewhere not far away, music played.

Han glanced at his map-link as he strode along. Turn right here …

And there was the next turbolift. Han passed it up as being too obvious, and went on to take a horizontal tube into the next megablock. Then came another lift down. Two hundred stories, this time.

The streets were dirtier, now, as he searched for the next lift, making sure his turns were random. Down again. He was five hundred stories down, by now. The streets grew ever seedier.

One time, a gang of kids approached him as he hurried along. Han shook his head at them warningly. “Don’t,” he said.

“ ‘Don’t’?” the leader, a huge, dark-skinned kid with a black fall of greasy hair, mocked. “Ooooooh, is big man afraid? Big man gonna be real afraid, when we get done with him …”

Six vibroblades flashed in the dim squalor of the alleys the streets had come to resemble. Han sighed, rolled his eyes, and pulled out the blaster.

The gang evaporated so quickly they might have been snatched up by hawk-bats. Han stood there, blaster in hand, until he was certain the kids were gone.

A few startled passersby glanced at him, then quickly hurried on about their business, with a “Me? I didn’t see nothing!” expression.

Shoving the blaster back into the front of his jacket, Han jogged down the shadowed street toward the next lift.

Another hundred stories, then another. He was seven hundred stories down. By now his map-link was useless. How deep is this place? he wondered, boarding another horizontal lift. The turbolift reeked of human and alien effluvia.

Eight hundred … eight hundred fifty.

By now Han was moving through streets lit only feebly by stray gleams from the airshafts, or by wan glow-lamps attached to the ramshackle buildings. The permacrete beneath his boots was often awash with foul-smelling, viscous liquid. Noxious rain spattered down, and fungi grew thick on the stonework.

No more citizens were in evidence—only darting forms that were too quick and furtive to identify. Han thought some of them might be aliens, and knowing Emperor Palpatine’s poorly concealed dislike and distrust of nonhumans, Han wasn’t surprised to find them lurking here, in the depths.

One thousand stories. Eleven hundred …

Han went in search of another lift, but couldn’t find one. Instead he found a series of stairwells that took him down, and down …

He was now almost twelve hundred stories down. Approximately thirty-six hundred meters below where he’d started out at the top level at the Imperial Bank.

Han was panting, even though he was going downhill. The air down here was thick and humid, and smelled foul, as though he were at the bottom of a tunnel.

No sign of pursuit. I’ve lost them, Han thought, walking aimlessly along. He caught a flash of something scuttling along beside the front of one of the sagging, sunken buildings, something that moved hunched over, like an animal, but it walked on its hind legs. Tattered scraps of cloth barely concealed pallid skin, blotched with lesions and running sores. The creature snarled at Han from behind a mat of lank, filthy hair, revealing a mouth full of rotting stumps of teeth.

Han truly couldn’t decide whether it was—or once had been—human.

The being scrambled away, hissing like a vrelt, half on its feet, half using all fours as it ran.

Shaken, Han took his blaster out of his jacket and stuck it into the front of his belt, wearing it openly, hoping its presence would deter any more creatures like the one he’d seen.

He passed the mouth of another alley, and there, in the ooze, several of the troglodytes crouched, tearing and ripping at something, cramming bits of it into their red-stained mouths. Revolted, Han drew his blaster, snapped off a shot over their heads, and watched them scatter.

He didn’t go any closer to their prey, but swallowed uneasily when he saw that human-shaped ribs protruded from the mangled chest. Minions of Xendor, what kind of place is this?

His legs were growing very tired. He wasn’t wearing a chrono, but when he passed beneath an airshaft, Han tilted his head far, far back and stared up at the dizzying height. A faint square of pallid light was visible at the very top. Light’s going. By the time I’ll be able to reach the rendezvous, it’ll be dark … For the first time in hours, Han thought of Bria, and was very glad he hadn’t taken her with him to the bank this morning.

She would be worried, he knew that. With a sigh, Han found another stairway and started the long, long climb upward.

By the time he’d reached a level that had such amenities as parks, and park benches to sit on, Han’s legs were cramped and he was shaky with exhausion. He slumped onto the bench, wondering, for the first time, what he’d do now.

He was so tired and disheartened that his mind spun like a creature trapped inside a barrel, rolling downhill. Gotta think, he told himself. I can’t go back to Bria like this …

But, despite his best efforts, no solution to his present dilemma presented itself. Han got to his feet and shambled off toward the nearest turbolift, feeling like one of the troglodytes he’d seen—only marginally human.

When he checked his locator, he found that it was working again, and he began following it to the coordinates he’d told Bria about.

Level 132, megablock 17, block 5, subblock 12 … he kept repeating to himself. As he ascended the levels to ones that were, to his mind, livable, his stomach growled when he caught whiffs of enticing odors from cafés and restaurants he passed.

Finally, he saw a sign lighting up the night in a sleazy section that bordered the alien enclave. A huge, venom-dripping Devaronian fur-spider, picked out in garish greenish-black lights, dangled from an eye-searing scarlet web. The Glow Spider. At last …

Noise and bustle filled the streets, and many of the passersby were the worse for drink or drugs. Han passed the mouth of an alley and saw someone activate a light, then the blue flash and sizzle as a dose of glitterstim ignited.

Han paused in an alcove across the street from the cantina, wondering whether Bria was waiting outside or inside. He hoped she hadn’t gone inside alone … or had she gone to try and make contact with Nici the Specialist? He sighed, wiped his sweaty face with his hand, and felt his head spin from exhaustion, thirst, and hunger.

As he hesitated, Han felt someone grab his arm. He spun on his heel, hand going to the front of his jacket where the blaster was hidden, and then stopped when he saw Bria. “Honey!” he gasped, grabbing her and holding her so tightly she began to struggle after a second. She felt—and smelled—so good!

“Han!” she gasped. “I can’t breathe!”

He relaxed his grip slightly, stood swaying. She pushed his hair back from his brow, staring anxiously up into his eyes. “Oh, Han! What happened?”

Han felt his throat close up, and for a moment he was afraid he might disgrace himself and start bawling. But he took a deep breath, shook his head, and said, “Not here. Let’s find a place to stay and some food. I’m done in.”

Half an hour later, they were locked inside their room in a dingy flophouse. Han had been in worse, but it hurt him to see Bria’s brave attempt to pretend she wasn’t shocked by the dirt, the smells, and the scuttling insects. But the place was cheap and seemed secure.

The first thing Han did was wash up and drink several glasses of water. He still felt light-headed, but the smell of the carry-in food revived him somewhat. He sat down on the edge of the rickety bed, and he and Bria took turns eating out of the single container.

The food returned some energy to Han’s exhausted body. He swallowed the last bite and sat back, staring hollow-eyed at Bria, wondering where to begin.

“Han, you have to tell me,” she said. “I know from your expression that it’s bad. You didn’t get the money, did you?”

Han shook his head, then, slowly, haltingly, he told her what had happened. Tears filled Bria’s eyes as she sat listening to him. Finally, he stopped … or ran down. “And I made it back here,” he finished. “The rest … the rest you know. Honey”—he looked at her, feeling his throat close up—“this is it. There’s no place left to turn. I can’t think of anything to do except use the last of our credits to try and get off-world. Then … we can work. I can get a job piloting, I know I can.” He sighed and buried his head in his hands.

“Baby … this is my fault. I should have realized the Hutts would run an all-system scan on my retinal patterns, and that they’d turn up all my aliases. I thought I’d been smart—but I was dumb as a box of rocks. Oh, Bria …” He groaned, and turned to her, sliding his arms around her, putting his head on her shoulder. “Can you forgive me?”

She kissed his forehead and said softly, “There’s nothing to forgive. It wasn’t your fault. If you hadn’t done what you did, I’d be in a pleasure-house being passed around from one stormtrooper to another. Never forget that, Han. You are a hero. You saved me, and I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he said, looking into her eyes. “I couldn’t say it before … but … I want you to know. I love you, Bria.”

She nodded, and a tear broke loose and coursed down her cheek. Han wiped it away with a fingertip. “Don’t cry,” he said. “I admit I came close to it myself, earlier, but I’ve been thinking. If we can just get off this blasted world, I know we can manage. We can work. We’ll make a life … I know we can.” He hesitated, then blurted, “We could even get married, sweetheart. If you want.”

He could tell she was profoundly moved by his awkward proposal, but she shook her head. “Your dreams, Han. You can’t give them up. We’ve gotten this close. We have to think of something. You’re going to be an officer in the Imperial Navy, remember?”

It was his turn to shake his head. “Not anymore, Bria. That’s over, now. I’ve gotta think of what else I’m gonna do with my life.”

“Oh, Han!” she began to cry in earnest. “I can’t bear to see you so hurt!”

“I’m okay,” he insisted, though it was a lie.

Bria laid her head against his chest, then held him tightly. “We’re okay for tonight,” Han said. “Tomorrow we’ve gotta do some heavy-duty planning.”

She was kissing him now, his cheek, his chin, his jaw … little, desperate, grazing kisses. Han held her tightly and captured her mouth, kissing her, touching her cheek, running his fingers through her hair, desperate to touch her, to be healed by her touch.

The dingy little room faded away, and all he could think about was how glad he was to be with her …

·  ·  ·

In the early hours before daylight, on this world where night and day meant very little to anyone who wasn’t living a wealthy “top-level” existence, Bria Tharen sat huddled in the grubby, cramped refresher unit. In her hands was a stylus, and before her was a sheet of flimsy and a large stack of credits.

Faintly, from the bedroom, she could hear Han snoring lightly. He was so exhausted he’d never heard her get up and leave, never awakened when she’d returned, hours later.

Now she struggled with the flimsy and the stylus, stopping every so often to wipe away the tears that blurred her eyes, making it almost impossible to write. Six or seven times she’d voided the flimsy and started over, but time was ticking by, and she couldn’t be here when Han awoke. If he awakened, Bria knew, she’d never, ever, be able to make herself go.

So she was taking the coward’s way out, once again. Her sobs caught in her throat, and she pressed both hands against her chest. For a moment she wondered whether her heart might stop from the pain she felt, then she shook her head and told herself to stop delaying. I’m so sorry, she made herself write. Please forgive me for doing this …

Tonight, for the first time, she’d realized that Han might not achieve his lifelong dream if she stayed with him. She’d been dragging him down, holding him back, for weeks, but she hadn’t wanted to admit it. But tonight … seeing the anguish in his eyes, hearing the catch in his voice—it had been too terrible to bear.

So she had slipped out, found a bar where the proprietor had let her pay him to borrow his comm unit, and called her father. Bria had appealed for help, both for herself and for Han. The pile of credit vouchers on the floor was the result. Renn Tharen was a man who knew how to get things done, and he had wasted no time. The money had been delivered to Bria by one of her father’s Coruscant business associates, who had handed her the credits, refused thanks, then headed back out into the night, clearly glad to get away from the sleazy, all-night tavern.

During their brief conversation, Bria’s father had warned her not to come home. Renn Tharen told her that inspectors from CorSec had come to the house shortly after Bria and Han escaped, asking about Bria’s whereabouts. “I told them nothing,” he said. “And your brother and mother aren’t speaking to me, because I cut off their allowances for a month, even though they swore they hadn’t called CorSec. Be careful, dear …”

“I will, Dad,” Bria promised. “I love you, Dad. Thanks …”

I’ve hurt him, too, Bria thought. Why do I always hurt the people I love the most?

Despair filled her, but she refused to let herself break down. All she could do for Han, if she loved him, was to leave him. Be strong, Bria, she commanded herself.

Gripping the stylus tightly, Bria wiped away her tears, then forced herself to finish the most difficult letter she would ever write …

   Han knew something was wrong even before he opened his eyes. There was no sound, none at all. “Bria?” he called. Where is she? Sliding out of bed, he pulled on his clothes. “Bria, honey?”

No answer.

Han took a deep breath and told his wildly hammering heart to calm down. She probably went out to get some stim-tea and pastry for breakfast, he told himself. It was a reasonable guess, under the circumstances—but something told him that he was wrong.

He sealed the front of his coverall, then picked up his jacket. Only then did he notice that Bria’s duffel was gone.

With a low moan of anguish, he saw something white protruding from the pocket of his jacket. Han pulled it out—and found himself holding a pouch filled with high-denomination credit vouchers. And there was something else, too …

A note. Written on creased and folded flimsy. Han shut his eyes, clutching it. It was nearly a full minute before he could force himself to open his eyes, force himself to read: