waved Tarfang to the far side of the cabin. “Close the main breaker.”
“Juun, I don’t think that’s a good—”
A sharp
clack
echoed across the room. Han barely managed to close his eyes before the ship erupted into a tempest of bursting lamps and sizzling circuits. Leia and the others cried out in shock. When the crackling continued, Han pulled his blaster and, opening his eyes to what looked like a indoor lightning storm, shot through the wire array just above the master plug.
The popping and buzzing quickly died away, and the main cabin was again plunged into its previous green dimness. Juun dropped to his knees in front of the control board.
“Not again!”
“What did I tell you?” Han asked.
Tarfang returned to the group and studied his crestfallen captain a moment, then looked Han in the eye and spoke sharply.
“He says the cost just doubled, Captain Solo,” C-3PO said. “You must pay for the damages you caused.”
“
I
caused?” Han protested. “I told him not to—”
“We’ll be glad to replace the wire array Han destroyed saving the
XR-eight-oh-eight-g
,” Leia interrupted. “And we’ll do anything else we can to help Captain Juun complete his repairs … per item seven of the Smuggler’s Code.”
“You bet,” Han said, catching Leia’s strategy. “It’s not as bad as it sounded, or the smoke would be a lot thicker.”
Juun looked up, his small eyes round with wonder. “This is covered under item seven?”
“Oh, yeah,” Han said. “But we’re flying our own ships.”
“I’m sure we can think of a way to follow Captain Juun.” Luke spoke in a tone that suggested he had already solved this problem. “We may need to install a couple of pieces of equipment when we repair the wire array.”
Tarfang raised a lip, then jabbered a demand.
“What kind of equipment?” C-3PO translated.
“The secret kind,” Luke said, glaring at the Ewok.
Tarfang lowered his furry brow and glared back for a moment, then finally said something that C-3PO translated as, “Captain Juun will be taking a big risk. It’ll cost you.”
“Fine,” Luke said. He stepped close to Juun and Tarfang, and suddenly he seemed as large as a rancor. “But you know who we are. You understand what it will mean if you try to double-cross us?”
Tarfang shrank back, but Juun seemed untroubled.
“Double-cross Han Solo?” the Sullustan asked. “Who’d be crazy enough to do that?”
SEVEN
Down in the valley, the Taat were scavenging along the flood-plain, their thoraxes glowing green in Jwlio’s hazy light. With the rest of their foraging territory brown and withering from a Chiss defoliant, the workers were stripping the ground bare, leaving nothing in their wake but rooj stubble and mud. It was a desperate act that would only deepen their famine in the future, but the insects had no choice. Their larvae were starving
now.
In the midst of such poverty and hardship, Jaina Solo felt more than a little guilty eating green thakitillo, but it was the only thing on the menu tonight. Tomorrow, it would be brot-rib or krayt eggs or some other rarity more suitable to a state dinner than a field post, and she would eat that, too. The Taat would be insulted if she did not.
Jaina spooned a curd into her mouth, then glanced around the veranda at her companions. They were all seated on primitive spitcrete benches, holding their bowls in their laps and using small Force bubbles to keep the dust at bay. Despite the gritty winds raised by the tidal pull of Qoribu—Jwlio’s ringed gas giant primary—the group usually took their meals outdoors. No one wanted to spend more time than necessary in the muggy confines of the nest caves.
After the curd had dissolved, Jaina tapped her spoon against the bowl. “Okay,” she asked. “Who’s responsible for this?”
One by one, the others raised their gazes, their faces betraying various degrees of culpability as they examined their thoughts over the last week or
“Juun, I don’t think that’s a good—”
A sharp
clack
echoed across the room. Han barely managed to close his eyes before the ship erupted into a tempest of bursting lamps and sizzling circuits. Leia and the others cried out in shock. When the crackling continued, Han pulled his blaster and, opening his eyes to what looked like a indoor lightning storm, shot through the wire array just above the master plug.
The popping and buzzing quickly died away, and the main cabin was again plunged into its previous green dimness. Juun dropped to his knees in front of the control board.
“Not again!”
“What did I tell you?” Han asked.
Tarfang returned to the group and studied his crestfallen captain a moment, then looked Han in the eye and spoke sharply.
“He says the cost just doubled, Captain Solo,” C-3PO said. “You must pay for the damages you caused.”
“
I
caused?” Han protested. “I told him not to—”
“We’ll be glad to replace the wire array Han destroyed saving the
XR-eight-oh-eight-g
,” Leia interrupted. “And we’ll do anything else we can to help Captain Juun complete his repairs … per item seven of the Smuggler’s Code.”
“You bet,” Han said, catching Leia’s strategy. “It’s not as bad as it sounded, or the smoke would be a lot thicker.”
Juun looked up, his small eyes round with wonder. “This is covered under item seven?”
“Oh, yeah,” Han said. “But we’re flying our own ships.”
“I’m sure we can think of a way to follow Captain Juun.” Luke spoke in a tone that suggested he had already solved this problem. “We may need to install a couple of pieces of equipment when we repair the wire array.”
Tarfang raised a lip, then jabbered a demand.
“What kind of equipment?” C-3PO translated.
“The secret kind,” Luke said, glaring at the Ewok.
Tarfang lowered his furry brow and glared back for a moment, then finally said something that C-3PO translated as, “Captain Juun will be taking a big risk. It’ll cost you.”
“Fine,” Luke said. He stepped close to Juun and Tarfang, and suddenly he seemed as large as a rancor. “But you know who we are. You understand what it will mean if you try to double-cross us?”
Tarfang shrank back, but Juun seemed untroubled.
“Double-cross Han Solo?” the Sullustan asked. “Who’d be crazy enough to do that?”
SEVEN
Down in the valley, the Taat were scavenging along the flood-plain, their thoraxes glowing green in Jwlio’s hazy light. With the rest of their foraging territory brown and withering from a Chiss defoliant, the workers were stripping the ground bare, leaving nothing in their wake but rooj stubble and mud. It was a desperate act that would only deepen their famine in the future, but the insects had no choice. Their larvae were starving
now.
In the midst of such poverty and hardship, Jaina Solo felt more than a little guilty eating green thakitillo, but it was the only thing on the menu tonight. Tomorrow, it would be brot-rib or krayt eggs or some other rarity more suitable to a state dinner than a field post, and she would eat that, too. The Taat would be insulted if she did not.
Jaina spooned a curd into her mouth, then glanced around the veranda at her companions. They were all seated on primitive spitcrete benches, holding their bowls in their laps and using small Force bubbles to keep the dust at bay. Despite the gritty winds raised by the tidal pull of Qoribu—Jwlio’s ringed gas giant primary—the group usually took their meals outdoors. No one wanted to spend more time than necessary in the muggy confines of the nest caves.
After the curd had dissolved, Jaina tapped her spoon against the bowl. “Okay,” she asked. “Who’s responsible for this?”
One by one, the others raised their gazes, their faces betraying various degrees of culpability as they examined their thoughts over the last week or
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