Part 8 (1/2)
”Yes, Captain.” Bollux moved to take Rekkon's other arm as Han prepared to hoist again. His joints creaked, and his servos whined. ”This was a great man, was he not, Captain?”
Han strained under the corpse's weight. ”What d'you mean?”
”Just, sir, that he had a function, a purpose he cared about above and beyond his life. Doesn't that indicate a greatness to the purpose?”
”You'll have to read the obituaries, Bollux; all I can tell you is, he's dead. And we're going to have to eject him through the emergency lock; we might get boarded yet, and we can't have him around.”
Without further conversation, the two dragged at Rekkon, who had reached out from beyond death and given Han the answers he needed.
Han opened the hatch. Atuarre, Pakka, and Torm looked up in unison. They'd taken seats on the bare deck, the man at the opposite side of the empty hold from the two Trianii.
”We had to ditch Rekkon,” Han told them. ”Atuarre, I want you and Pakka to go square away the forward compartment. You can throw some eats into the warming unit, too. Torm, come with me; I need a hand repairing the damage we did on liftoff.”
Atuarre objected. ”I am a Trianii Ranger, and a rated pilot, not a drudge. Besides, Solo-Captain, that man is a traitor.”
”Save it,” Han cut her off. ”I've locked up all the other weapons in the s.h.i.+p, including Chewie's other bowcaster. I'm the only one armed, and things stay that way until I figure out what to do with you all.”
She gave him a sullen look, telling him, ”Solo-Captain, you're a fool.” She left, with Pakka trailing behind.
Torm rose, but Han stopped him with an arm across the hatchway. The redhead retreated back into the hold and waited. ”You're the only one I can trust,” Han told him. ”Bollux isn't really much good, and I just figured out who killed Rekkon.”
”Which of them did it?”
”The cub, Pakka. He was in Authority custody, and they messed with him. That's why he doesn't talk. I think they brain-set him, then let Atuarre recover him. Rekkon wouldn't have let any of you others near.”
Torm nodded grimly. Han produced the man's pistol from the back of his gunbelt and handed it to him. Its charge indicator read full. ”Keep this on you. I'm not sure Atuarre's figured it out yet, but I'm willing to play them along and find out if either of them know anything that'll help.”
Torm stashed the gun in his coverall pocket. ”What will we do next?”
”Rekkon left a message as he was dying, scrawled it on the gameboard. The Authority's keeping its special prisoners at something called Stars' End, on Mytus VI. After we've checked the s.h.i.+p over, we'll gather in the forward compartment and run down everything we've got in files and computers on it. Maybe Pakka or Atuarre will let something slip then.”
When the light damage suffered by the Millennium Falcon in her breakout from Orron III had been repaired insofar as was possible, the s.h.i.+p's complement gathered in the forward compartment. Han had brought four portable readouts. He gave one to each of the others and took one himself. Bollux watched, seated to one side, with Max back in his usual place, gazing out from the 'droid's chest.
”I patched these readouts into the s.h.i.+p's computers,” Han explained. ”Each of them's keyed to one kind of information. I'll pull navigational, Atuarre's got planetological; Pakka can retrieve the Authority's uncla.s.sified stuff, and Torm's got operational files from the outlaw-techs. Okay, punch up Stars' End and let's get at it.”
Each of the other three complied. Torm's screen, except for the retrieval request, remained blank. Atuarre's too. She looked up, as they all did, to see Han scan his own readout.
”Your portables aren't hooked up to anything,” he told them, ”only mine. Atuarre, show Torm your screen.”
Dubious, she still did as he asked, turning her readout so that the redhead could see it. On her screen was the simple retrieval request, MYTUS VIII. ”Yours too, Pakka,” Han bade the cub. That readout showed MYTUS V.
”Catch his face,” Han told the others, meaning Torm, who had become pallid. ”You know what you've done, don't you, Torm? Show everybody your readout. It says MYTUS VII, but I told you that Stars' End was on MYTUS VI, just as I told the others the wrong planet. But you already knew the right one, because you read it over Rekkon's shoulder before you killed him, right?” His voice lost its false lightness. ”I said right, traitor?”
Torm jumped to his feet with impressive speed, gun drawn. Atuarre pulled hers out too, and pointed it at him. But neither Torm's shot at Han nor Atuarre's at him worked.
”Two malfunctions?” Han inquired innocently, unlimbering the blaster at his side. ”I betcha mine works, Torm.”
Torm heaved his pistol wildly. Han reacted with a star pilot's reflexes, slapping the gun out of midair with his left hand. But Torm had already whirled and seized the surprised Atuarre in a savage infighting hold, prepared to break her neck with a slight twist. When she started to resist, he forced her neck to the brink of fracture, making her subside.
”Put down the blaster, Solo,” he grated, ”and get your hands on the gameboard, or I'll-”
He was interrupted as Pakka, in a spectacular leap, landed on Torm's shoulders, sinking fangs into his neck, clawing at his eyes, wrapping a supple tail around the traitor's throat. Torm was forced to release his hold to keep from being blinded. Atuarre sought to turn and fight, and even Bollux had risen in the moment of crisis, unsure of just what to do.
Torm gave Atuarre a vicious kick. His superior weight and strength sent her sprawling, blocking Han, who had been moving for a clear shot. As Han skirted Atuarre, Torm tore Pakka from his shoulders and threw the cub aside just as Bollux blundered into the pilot's path. Pakka bounced off one of the pads of safety cus.h.i.+oning lining the compartment hatch, as Torm dashed into the pa.s.sageway.
Dodging, moving as quickly as he could, Torm raced past the c.o.c.kpit, main ladderwell, and ramp hatch; none of them held any promise of even temporary safety. He heard Han's bootsteps close behind and ducked into the first compartment he came to, d.a.m.ning himself for not having taken time to learn the s.h.i.+p's layout. He hit the hatch-close b.u.t.ton as he came through. The compartment was empty, offering no tools, nothing he might use as a weapon. He'd been hoping this was the escape-pod chamber, but fortune had pa.s.sed him by. At least, he thought, he had a moment's respite. He might be able to buy time, perhaps even wrest Solo's blaster from him. His thoughts were moving so quickly that he didn't realize, for a moment, where he was. But when he did, he threw himself back at the hatch through which he'd come, tearing at the controls, screaming obscenities.
”Don't waste your time,” came Han's voice over the intercom. ”Nice of you to choose the emergency lock, Torm. It's where you would've ended up anyway.”
Han stood looking through the viewport set in the lock's inner hatch. He'd overridden the lock's controls to make sure Torm couldn't get back in. All the Falcon's access systems had inboard overrides, to make life complicated for anyone interested in forced entry, a wise smuggler's option.
Torm tried to wet his lips with a very dry tongue. ”Solo, stop and think a minute.”
”Save your breath, Torm. You're gonna need it all; you're going swimming.” There were, of course, no s.p.a.cesuits stored in the lock. Torm's eyes opened wide with fear.
”Solo, no! I never had anything against you; I never would have come, except that b.a.s.t.a.r.d Rekkon and the Trianii never took their eyes off me. If I'd cut, they would have shot me. You can understand that, can't you? I had to look out for number one, Solo!”
”So you shot Rekkon,” Han told him in a soft voice, no questioning to it.
”I had to! If he'd pa.s.sed on word about Stars' End, it would've been my neck! You don't know these Authority people, Solo; they don't accept failure. It was Rekkon or me.”
Atuarre came up behind Han, and Pakka and Bollux after her. The cub climbed up the 'droid's shoulders for a better view. ”But, Torm,” Atuarre said, ”Rekkon found you, recruited you. Your father and brother really have disappeared.”
Without facing away from the viewport, Han added, ”I'm sure they did. Your father and older brother, right, Torm? Let's see, now, that wouldn't by any chance make you heir to the Kail Ranges, would it?”
The traitor's face was waxen. ”Yes, if I did as the Authority asked. Solo, don't play righteous with me! You said you're a businessman, didn't you? I can get all the money you want! You want your friend back? The Wookiee is on his way to Stars' End by now; the only way you'll ever see him again is by bargaining with me. The Authority's got no grudge against you; you can name your price!”
Torm rea.s.serted control over himself, going on more calmly. ”These people keep their word, Solo. They don't even know your names yet, any of you; I was operating under deep cover, saving the information I developed so I could up the price. Strike a deal. The Authority's just good business people, like you and me. You can have the Wookiee back and go free with enough money to buy a new s.h.i.+p.”
He got no answer. Han's gaze had gone to his own reflection in the metal of the emergency lock's control panel. Torm pounded his fists on the inner hatch, a dull thudding.
”Solo, tell me what you want; I'll get it for you, I swear! You're a guy who looks out for number one, aren't you? Isn't that what you are, Solo?”
Han stared at his own lean reflection. In another man, he'd have said those eyes were too used to concealing everything but cynicism. His thoughts echoed Torm: Is that what I am? He looked back to Torm's face, straining against the viewport.
”Ask Rekkon,” Han answered, and hit the lock release.
The outer latch snapped open. With an explosion of air into vacuum, Torm was hurled out into the chaotic pseudo-reality of hypers.p.a.ce. Once outside the Millennium Falcon's mantle of energy, the units of matter and patterns of form that had been Torm ceased to have any coherent meaning.
VIII.
”SOLO-CAPTAIN,” Atuarre interrupted his thoughts, leaning into the c.o.c.kpit, ”isn't it time we spoke? We've been here for nearly ten Standard Time-Parts, and our course of action is no clearer than when we arrived. We must reach some decision, don't you agree?”
Han broke off gazing out the canopy at the distant speck, barely visible, of Mytus VII. All around the Millennium Falcon rose the peaks and hills of the tiny asteroid on which she was concealed. ”Atuarre, I don't know how Trianii feel about waiting, but me, I hate it worse than anything. But there's nothing else we can do; we have to sit tight and play out our hand.”
She wouldn't accept that. ”There are other courses of action, Captain. We could attempt to contact Jessa again.” Her slit-irises dwelled on him.