22

Luke and Lando stood with Moruth Doole high inside one of Kessel’s atmosphere stacks. They held the rusted guard railing at the edge of a catwalk, staring down the dizzying drop. Leaning into the stack, they breathed the manufactured air boiling into the sky; it reminded Luke of the great air shaft in Cloud City.

Doole shouted into the roaring background noise. “According to one old Imperial study, there’s only enough raw material in Kessel’s crust to keep the atmosphere in equilibrium for a century or two at our present rate of consumption.” He shrugged, hunching his bumpy shoulders in a sort of seizure. “A few years ago the output was higher so that the slaves could walk around and breathe the air—but what’s the point in allowing that?”

Lando nodded sagely, as if still interested, while Luke said nothing. Doole had been their tour guide for an entire day, talking more than even the long-winded senators on Coruscant. Doole wanted Lando’s half million credits and went about extolling Kessel’s virtues like a representative from the planetary chamber of commerce.

Wherever Doole took them, Luke strained his Jedi senses, reaching out to find some sign of Han or Chewbacca. But Luke could feel no tickle in the Force, no ripple of his friends’ presence. Perhaps they were truly dead after all.

Lando continued his conversation with Doole, shouting into the rushing wind that rose through the stack. “A lot can change around here by the time the air runs out. What matters is what you accomplish during your own lifetime.”

Doole’s hissing laugh was swallowed by background noise. He reached up to lay a hand on Lando’s shoulder. “We think alike, Mr. Tymmo. Who cares what happens after we’re space dust? I’d rather squeeze Kessel dry while I’ve got it in my fist.”

“You seem to have such an enormous operation. Why are you still running it solo?” Lando asked.

Doole flinched at the term “solo,” and Luke knew Lando had chosen his word carefully; both of them caught the Rybet’s reaction. “What do you mean?” Doole asked.

“Well, when the Imperial confiscation of spice ended, I would have thought you’d open all your markets, get a thousand representatives to spread the product. Jabba the Hutt is dead. Why didn’t you link up with the unified smugglers under Talon Karrde and Mara Jade? That must have hurt your profits.”

Doole pointed one gummy-ended finger at Lando. “Our profits are growing enormously, now that we get all the glitterstim, rather than just what we can steal from under Imperial noses. And after being so long under the yoke of the Empire, I didn’t want to get into the same position with the New Republic. Everybody knows that Jade and Karrde are just puppets.”

Seeing Lando’s skepticism, Doole waved his hands. “Oh, but we are considering it, of course. In fact, I’ve already spoken with a minister from the New Republic, opening up a line of communication that may eventually lead to an alliance.”

“Sounds like good news,” Lando said in a noncommittal voice.

Doole led them back along the catwalk to the access doorway, where Artoo waited. Shutting the heavy door behind them, Doole paused a moment for their ears to adjust to the sudden silence. “As you can see, a great deal is changing around here. You, my friend, have chosen a good time to join in.”

“If I decide to invest,” Lando said firmly.

“Yes, yes, if you decide to invest. The truth is, this could be even more important, Mr. Tymmo. Since the death of Skynxnex, I’ll be needing a new, er, assistant for running the spice mines.”

Lando fluffed the cape behind him in a self-important gesture. “If I’m investing half a million credits, Doole, I’d expect to be more of a partner than an assistant.”

Doole practically kowtowed. “Of course. Trivial details can be worked out. I’ll also need a new shift boss. Maybe your companion here would be interested in the work?” He looked at Luke, squinting with his egg-white eye.

Luke met the Rybet’s mechanical eye and stared into the focus-changing lenses, trying to pry some secrets from Doole’s brain. Luke said, “I’ll have to think about it.”

Doole ignored him, focusing his attention back on Lando. “Now then, you’ve seen practically everything. Is there anything else I can show you?”

Lando looked to Luke, who pondered a moment. Thoughts of the jagged moon and its security base kept troubling him. If Han was not on Kessel itself, perhaps he was imprisoned on the moonbase.

“Aren’t you worried about attack from remnants of the Empire?” Luke asked. “Or consolidation forces from the New Republic?”

Doole brushed aside the comment. “We have our own defenses. Don’t worry.”

But Luke persisted, trying to sound like a cautious business associate. “If we’re going to invest, we should see these alleged defenses. We know about the energy shield left by the Imperial Correction Facility. But do you have a fleet of any sort?”

Doole began to sputter, but Lando took charge. “Moruth, if there’s something you don’t want us to see …”

“No, no, it’s no trouble at all. I’ll just have to arrange a shuttle up to the moonbase. I don’t want you to think we have anything to hide!”

Doole bustled off to arrange for the shuttle, leaving Luke and Lando to exchange skeptical glances.

Lando did not like the idea of leaving the Lady Luck behind on the landing pad of the Imperial Correction Facility, but Doole continued to play the gracious host. Luke silently tried to console him as they lifted off in the short-range shuttle, but Lando kept looking out the small window as if he would never see his ship again.

Kessel’s moon approached, looking like a hollowed sphere with most of the rock scooped out to house a large internal hangar and the enormous generators and transmitters that created the protective energy shield surrounding the planet.

After they landed, Moruth Doole strutted out of the shuttle, gesturing them to follow with an impatience that made Luke curious. Doole stood waiting for them as Artoo worked his way down the ramp and into the giant grotto. Behind a transparent atmosphere-containment screen, Luke could see stars and the trailing wisps of gas looping around the black hole cluster.

Doole seemed prouder of his defensive fleet than he was of any other aspect of the Kessel operations. “Follow me.”

He waddled across the rock floor of the hangar bay, leading them along rows and rows of fighter craft arranged in seemingly random order. They passed ships Luke found familiar and others so exotic he could not even identify them. He called on his knowledge as a fighter pilot to assess the fleet: X-wings, Y-wings, powerful Corellian Corvettes, a single B-wing, TIE fighters, TIE interceptors, four TIE bombers, several Skipray blastboats, gamma-class assault shuttles. In space, like prizes around the ragged opening of the moon, hovered larger attack ships—three Carrack cruisers, two big Lancer frigates, a single Loronar strike cruiser.

“After we drove out the Empire,” Doole said, “I placed the highest priority on a defensive fleet. I bought every fighter I could find, no matter what its condition, and hired experienced mechanics from the Corellian sector of Nar Shaddaa.”

He grinned with his amphibian lips. “We just got the energy shield operational again two days ago. I can heave a big sigh of relief now. With the shields finally up and our new fleet as a backup, Kessel is safe and independent. We can set glitterstim prices across the galaxy without interference from anybody.”

“Sure is a lot of ships,” Lando agreed. “I’m impressed.”

Luke recalled how much trouble the New Republic had obtaining sufficient fighting ships during Admiral Thrawn’s guerrilla campaigns. If Moruth Doole had been pulling all the strings he could to obtain every functional ship in the sector, no wonder supplies had been so limited.

“We should be able to defend against spice pirates, don’t you think?” Doole said.

They kept walking along the rows of parked ships. Suddenly Lando froze, and Luke felt a surge of shocked emotion from him. Artoo began chittering wildly. Luke looked around until he saw one modified light freighter of Corellian manufacture—a ship that looked decidedly familiar.

“What is it?” Doole asked, looking down at the droid.

Lando took a moment to regain his composure. He rapped his knuckles on Artoo’s top dome. “Stray cosmic ray, I suppose. Occasionally these old astromech units frazzle a circuit.” He swallowed. “Could I speak with my assistant for a moment in private, Moruth?”

“Oh, uh, of course.” Doole discreetly backed away. “I’ll go make sure the mechanics are prepping the shuttle for our return to Kessel.” He turned to Luke and forced humor into his tone. “Now, don’t go talking your boss out of making an investment here!”

The moment Doole moved out of earshot, Lando nodded excitedly to the freighter. “That’s the Falcon, Luke! I know her like a krabbex knows its shell!”

Luke looked at the ship, recognizing it himself but wanting more proof. “You positive?”

“It’s the Falcon, Luke. I owned her, remember, before Han stole her from me in a sabacc game. If you look, you can see the streaking scar on top where I knocked off the subspace antenna dish trying to zip away from the Death Star.”

Luke also noticed scorch marks from a recent space combat. “They could have changed the markings, wiped the memory core. Is there any other way we can prove it?”

“Just get me inside the cockpit. Han’s made some modifications to the ship nobody else would know about.”

When Doole returned, Lando said, “My assistant wants to be sure you’ve been doing thorough maintenance on these ships. If you’re not taking care of them, they don’t make much of a defensive fleet. Let’s take a look inside one at random … say, that Corellian ship over there.”

Doole seemed taken by surprise, glancing at the Falcon. “That one? Uh, we have plenty of top-notch fighters you can check out. That one is something of a … piece of junk.”

Lando waggled his finger. “If you choose the ship for us, Moruth, that contradicts the whole point of a random inspection, doesn’t it? Open this one up. Go on.”

Reluctantly, Doole worked the external controls that dropped the Falcon’s ramp. Lando took the lead, followed by Luke, while Artoo puttered so closely behind Doole that he nearly ran over the Rybet’s heels.

Inside, Lando strode to the cockpit, ostensibly to check out the systems. Running his fingers lovingly over the stained, worn surfaces, he flicked a few switches. “Ion-flux stabilizer checks out as optimal, so does the stasis-field generator. Should we go back and check out the power converter? Those things are notorious for breaking down in Corellian freighters.”

Lando backed down the narrow corridor leading from the cockpit to the central living section of the ship. Turning left toward the entry ramp, he stepped carefully on the main deck plates. From the control panels he had unlatched the hidden locks, and when he stomped on the appropriate plates with his boot heel, they popped up, revealing the seven secret compartments Han had personally installed as spice-smuggling bins beneath the floor.

“Caught you, Doole, you bastard!” Lando grabbed him by the yellow cravat at his throat. “What have you done with Han and Chewbacca?”

Doole seemed completely astonished, flailing his splayed hands in the air. “What are you talking about?” he croaked. As Lando glared down into the Rybet’s huge eyes, Doole slipped one of his hands into his waistcoat and yanked free a small “hold-out” blaster pistol. Luke saw it and reacted instantly, shoving with his mind and using the Force to hurl Moruth Doole away from Lando.

The blaster went off, sending a deadly beam ricocheting around the Falcon’s corridor. Doole fell backward, then scrambled to his feet. He fired at them again, but his mechanical eye had no time to focus, and the beam went wide. Doole dove down the ramp, bellowing for the guards. His mechanical eye fell off, clanging and rolling across the floor. He scrambled after it in a panic, feeling blindly with his hands.

Luke smacked the door controls, raising the ramp and sealing the hatch, “We should have kept him as a hostage,” he said. “Now it’s going to be a lot more difficult to get out of here.”

Outside, Doole raised the alarm. Guards scrambled through the parked ships, drawing blasters, fastening their armor.

“Artoo, get to the computer!” Luke said.

Lando jumped into the chair behind the controls. “I doubt we can do anything for Han anymore. We need to get back and tell Leia. She can bring a full-scale occupation force to Kessel. We’ll go over this place with a high-res scanner.”

“If we get out of here alive,” Luke said.

“Artoo,” Lando called, “jack into the copilot’s computer and tie into the hangar controls.” The astromech droid chittered his willingness to help and rolled toward the navicomp console.

Outside in the hangar, security horns sounded. People ran around every which direction, not knowing where to go. Luke saw immediately that these mercenaries had far less experience working together than the sloppiest Imperial regiment. But the moment Lando lifted the ship off the landing-pad floor, everyone had an unmistakable target.

“Artoo, get that door field down!” Lando shouted.

Using maneuvering thrusters, he edged the ship forward, picking up speed as they rose over the other parked fighters. Pilots scrambled into their ships, ready for a space battle. In orbit around the moon, the capital ships did not yet seem aware of the situation.

Lando accelerated toward the wide hangar opening to space. They could not see the invisible shield. Artoo bleeped and whistled, but the sounds were not positive. “Get the shield down!” Lando insisted.

Artoo’s interface jack whirred as he worked with the hangar bay’s computer, trying to skirt the password controls.

“We need the shield down now, Artoo!” Luke said.

The Falcon’s rear thrusters kicked in and they lurched forward, gaining speed. “Come on,” Lando said to the ship. “You can do it. Do it one last time for Han.”

Artoo bleeped in triumph a moment before they shot through the opening. Luke flinched, but the shield dropped just in time.

Alert lights began to wink on in the big battleships riding in orbit. Weapons systems warmed up, targeting modules locked on to aimpoints.

The Millennium Falcon soared into open space as, behind them, the Kessel forces scrambled in pursuit.