What business do you have with Mak Luunim?” one of the stormtroopers asked through his voice intercom.

“Who?” Han asked innocently. “Must have the wrong apartment. Now, I’m not saying all Muuns look alike, but just between you and me —”

“State your business,” the stormtrooper repeated, raising his blaster. Han did some quick calculations.

They were surrounded, outgunned, outnumbered.

His kind of odds.

“Looks like we’re done with the sweet talk portion of the evening,” Han muttered under his breath. He exchanged a look with Tobin Elad, who nodded and inched toward the closest guard. Good, Han thought.

The man knew how to read a room.

“Come quietly for detainment,” the stormtrooper informed them. “Otherwise we’ll shoot you right here.”

“Death now or death later?” Han mused, readying his blaster. “What’s behind door number three?” He pretended to think for a moment. “Oh, that’s right,” he added. “Fire.”

Elad aimed a lightning-fast kick at the nearest stormtrooper, who went down in a clatter of armor. The others guards turned in his direction, distracted just for a moment. Long enough. Han unleashed a burst of blaster fire at the troopers, then dived behind a couch before they could retaliate.

Luke and Leia fled to opposite corners, whipping out their blasters as they ran. Their fire provided enough cover for Han to take his time, aiming for the cracks in the stormtrooper armor. One by one, the Imperials went down.

The opulent apartment quickly turned into a war zone. Blaster fire tore through satin upholstery; statues of Mak Luunim blew up in a hail of marble dust. Chewbacca snarled as one of the stormtroopers tried to knock him out with a blaster to the head. He hoisted the soldier over his head and flung him through a wall separating the parlor from the dining area.

“No, no, no!” Luunim’s servile employee sniveled, distraught. He ignored the blaster fire and scurried back and forth across the apartment, steadying wobbling golden vases and tossing himself across priceless heir-looms. “The master wouldn’t like this at all!”

The master probably doesn’t like being dead much, either, Han thought, shoving the Muun out of the way just before a burst of blaster fire could slam into him. Sometimes you don’t have a choice.

“And stay down,” Han advised the Muun, who had curled up beneath a coffee table, clutching a shimmering silver figurine to his chest. The creature had clearly set them up for an ambush, but that didn’t mean he deserved to die.

Elad suddenly swiveled around, aiming his blaster directly at Han’s head. “Hey —” Han shouted — just as the blaster fire seared past his face. There was a cry of pain from behind him as a stormtrooper took the hit.

“You’re welcome,” Elad smirked.

“Next time you could just say ‘behind you,’” Han grumbled. But he was grateful for the save. He had to admit, Elad was just as good with a blaster as he was with a ship. He fought like a machine, cool and efficient.

Deadly.

Speaking of machines …

“What are you doing?” he shouted at R2-D2, almost tripping over the droid. “Figure out a way to get that door open again!”

R2-D2 beeped indignantly, but he rolled toward the door, injecting a manipulator arm into the instrument panel.

Smoke clouded the air, heavy with the acrid stench of blaster fire. Half the stormtroopers were down, but three more crouched behind a toppled chair and table. Every few seconds, they popped up from behind their makeshift barricade and unleashed another volley of fire. Han and Elad were pinned behind a thick marble column. There was too much cover in the room, and too little space — it was impossible for Han to get a clear shot without exposing himself.

The fight was a draw … at least until the stormtroopers called in reinforcements.

Which could happen any minute.

“How we coming with those doors?” Han asked urgently. How long could it take to pry open some millionaire’s front door?

Then again — Han took a look around the ruined apartment, realizing there was probably more wealth between these four walls than he’d smuggled in his lifetime. It was understandable that Luunim would have wanted a state of the art system to keep people out.

Or keep people in.

R2-D2 trilled triumphantly as the doors slid open.

“Go!” Elad shouted, a second before Han was about to do the same. “I’ll cover you.”

The droids rushed out first, followed by Leia, Luke, and Chewbacca.

“Go!” Elad shouted again, pinning down the stormtroopers with another round of fire.

“You go!” Han insisted. “I’ll cover you.”

“You want to fight about this, or you want to live?”

“You have to ask?” Han grinned.

“On three?”

Han nodded, counting silently.

One… two… three, he mouthed, and they both took off for the door, twisting backward as they ran, firing at the stormtroopers who followed. As blaster fire punched holes in the marble wall, they slipped out of the apartment, just as the doors shut behind them.

“Can you stop them from coming through?” Han asked the astromech droid.

R2-D2 whistled a response.

C-3PO looked at him in surprise. “He says he’s already done so, Captain Solo. He jammed the command circuitry. Who told you to do that, Artoo?”

R2-D2 beeped and whistled, sounding proud.

“What do you mean, you came up with it on your own?” C-3PO asked, horrified. “Need I remind you of our place, Artoo? We’re to carry out orders, not concoct crazy schemes sure to —”

“Nice work, Artoo,” Luke cut in, smiling. “You saved us all.”

“Well … yes, now that you mention it,” C-3PO blustered, “I suppose we did.”