Part 25 (1/2)
”We almost pa.s.sed you by,” Han said. ”You're a little too good at camouflage.” He meant the Millennium Falcon, which Chewbacca had permitted to settle until her landing gear was nearly retracted. The Wookiee and Spray had piled snow around the stars.h.i.+p and spread clumps of scrub and more snow across her upper hull.
”But we noticed all those animal tracks detouring around to either side of her,” Han added, ”so I took a closer look.” Spray and Chewbacca were tugging at the arrivals, urging them to come aboard. Han delayed just long enough to drag forth some of the new circuitry; he thought for a moment his copilot was going to weep at the sight of it.
Lunch was forgotten as they brought one another up on what had happened. Spray turned sheepish when his jettisoning of Bollux was mentioned. ”To tell the truth, Captain,” he said, ”as I explained to Chewbacca here, I got the idea all at once and knew I'd have to act instantly.” To the 'droid he said, ”I truly apologize, but it seemed like the only thing to do, and I sometimes have trouble making snap decisions. I just plunged ahead with it before I could stop and dither. Perhaps the general impulsiveness was contagious.”
”I fully understand, sir,” Bollux answered graciously. ”And as it worked out, it was quite fortunate for all of us that you thought and acted so quickly. Blue Max agrees with me, too.”
They all thought it best to ignore the high-pitched hollow sounding ”Hah!” that came from Bollux's closed chest panels.
Soon they were all at work. Bollux, Spray, and Fiolla began clearing away what they could of the piled snow, concentrating on exposing the c.o.c.kpit, bow, and main thrusters. Han and Chewbacca strained at repairs with Blue Max, out of Bollux's chest emplacement and connected to the forward tech station to check for accuracy as each individual hookup was made.
As the fluidic components were removed one by one from the stars.h.i.+p, Chewbacca took great pleasure in heaving them as far as he could; some of his throws were so impressive that Han regretted that it wasn't a formal athletic event. He pardoned his friend these excesses; the fluidics had been as much a curse as a blessing since they were installed.
As the replacements were made, the pile of discarded adaptors and jury-rigged gear grew. Because they knew intimately every cubic centimeter of their s.h.i.+p, they worked rapidly; they had originally installed the fluidics in such fas.h.i.+on that removal would be simple.
Activating another component, Han asked Max over the comlink how things looked from the tech station. ”Checks out perfectly, Captain,” came the computer's childish voice.
Pleased with the speed with which their labors were going, Han said, ”We should take time to retune the engine power-curves for peak efficiency, but I'd rather get off Ammuud first. The biggest job's the only one left-the hypers.p.a.ce control units. Shouldn't take more than-”
”Captain Solo!” Max's vocoder communicated urgency. ”Trouble! Long-range sensors paint three blips!”
Chewbacca yipped a question at Han, who snapped a sharp response. ”What's it matter who they are? They're not coming for a gala sendoff, that's for sure. No time for the hyperdrive. Seal up the hull.” He called to Fiolla and the others ”Get aboard; we're raising s.h.i.+p right now!”
Han sprinted up the ramp, leaving his first mate to close up the exposed systems. In the c.o.c.kpit his hands flew back and forth across both his own and Chewbacca's sides of the console. Among other things, he flicked on the s.h.i.+p's commo board and monitoring outfit, though he doubted he'd pick up much in the way of transmissions from the bogies.
But a moment later, in the midst of charging the s.h.i.+p's weaponry, he noticed a blinking telltale on the broad-band monitor. He read the instruments; there was a steady signal coming from somewhere very close by. A fast scan by the direction finder told him its origin.
He recalled that he had left the disruptor rifle in the lifeboat. But Chewbacca had placed his gunbelt in the navigator's chair. Good boy! Fastening the belt around his hips and tying down the holster, he rushed back for the ramp.
Chewbacca noticed the blaster at once. ”We've been popped,” Han explained. ”Somebody keyed the boat transceiver; we've been sending all along. It probably took them this long to pick us up among all the dips and crags.” He was glaring meaningfully at Fiolla.
”After all this time,” she said with amazement, ”you still don't trust me.”
”Name another nominee? Spray hasn't been near the boat and I sure don't remember doing it.” He beckoned his partner. ”We've got work to do, pal. Spray, you too. Bollux, go with our other guest to the forward compartment and watch her. And brace your cha.s.sis for some rough weather.” He started back for the c.o.c.kpit, and Fiolla headed for the forward compartment without another word.
Han ushered Spray into the navigator's chair, directly behind his own, and all three buckled themselves in. He thought about sending out a distress signal to the Mor Glayyd, but a glance at the commo board ended that; one or more of the oncoming craft was jamming, and he had no time to try to circ.u.mvent the interference.
Bringing thrusters up to a hover, he retracted the s.h.i.+p's three-point landing gear the rest of the way. Over the low tumult of the engines he asked the Wookiee, ”How good a pilot is he?” He jerked a thumb at Spray. The first mate made a so-so motion of his hairy paw but nodded, which meant that while the skip-tracer might never make the Kessel Run, he would be adequate in a jam-which this was. ”Splendid,” Han said unenthusiastically, and cut in main thrusters. Kicking up fountains of steam and mud and clumps of scrub growth, the Millennium Falcon blasted free of the remaining snow and shot off into the sky.
Han let his copilot take the controls and left his seat to bend over Spray. ”Here it is: we haven't got hyperdrive because we didn't have time to reconnect it. That means we can't duck out of this one. Sensors say those are small, fast jobs coming for us, maybe interceptors, and sooner or later they'll overhaul us. We can't outrun them but we can outfight them if Chewie and I can man the turrets. That means somebody's got to pilot, so unless you feel like manning a quad-mount-”
”Captain,” gasped Spray, ”I've never fired a weapon in my life!”
”Sort of what I figured,” sighed Han. ”Take a seat here.” Scratching his hand nervously, Spray sat unwillingly in the pilot's seat while Han adjusted it and pushed it closer to the console. Spray poked his buck-toothed snout up to various indicators, scopes, and gauges; with his inferior eyesight he was, of course, primarily an instrument pilot. But he obviously knew what he was doing.
”Just keep s.h.i.+elds up and try to angle with their attack runs,” Han instructed, ”and try to preserve her resale value, if that inspires you. Otherwise, nothing fancy. Just leave the rest to us.”
He and his partner made their way to the central ladderwell that led to the top and belly turrets. ”I wish there was another way to do this,” Han confessed.
”Dowwpp,” the Wookiee responded.
Han climbed toward the top turret and felt the vibrations along the ladder that told him his copilot was descending. He hauled himself into the turret, seating himself before the quad-guns and donning his headset.
s.h.i.+p's gravity was altered here, permitting him to sit with his back perpendicular to the ladderwell without feeling a downward drag. In the same way, Chewbacca would be sitting in the belly turret facing directly ”downward” without being pulled against his seat's belt.
Glancing over his shoulder, Han could look directly down the ladderwell at his friend's back. Chewbacca flipped him a quick wave, and each of them ran his battery through a few test-traverses, making sure the servos responded to control grips and tracked accurately.
”The usual stakes,” Han called down, ”and double for kills in the Money Lane.” Chewbacca woofed consent.
Spray's voice, shaking with tension, came up. ”I have three confirmed blips on approach. They should be on your screens by-they're on us!”
XII.
JUST as Spray apprised the two partners of the oncoming craft, the newcomers announced their own arrival unmistakably. The Millennium Falcon quaked, her s.h.i.+elds claiming huge amounts of power as cannon fire incandesced against her.
”They're breaking!” Spray yelled, but both Han and Chewbacca could already see that from their targeting monitors. Clutching the handgrips of his gunmount, Han traversed the quad-barrels astern to address his natural target, the uppermost of the vessels overtaking his s.h.i.+p. He knew the Wookiee would be on the one falling deepest into his own field of fire. They'd been through this sort of thing before; each knew the area of his responsibility and how the other worked.
The targeting computer drew up intersecting lines in two parallel grids and showed Han an arrowhead of light representing the bandit. From a lifetime's habit, Han divided his time and attention between computer modeling on the tiny screen and visual ranging. He never entirely trusted computers or any other machine; he liked to see what he was shooting at.
The target swept in, even faster than he had expected. It was, as he had thought it would be, a pinnace, a s.h.i.+p's fighting boat. So, our friends the slavers are still with us.
At the same time he was squeezing off quick bursts, trying to bracket the pinnace. The quad-guns slammed away in alternating pairs, but the pinnace had picked up too much speed; it was into his gunsights and out again before Han had a chance to come close.
The stars.h.i.+p shook like a child's toy as her defensive mantle struggled to deal with the blasts of the pinnace's cannon. Han registered, distantly, the sound of the belly guns and Chewbacca's frustrated howl as the Wookiee, too, missed on the first pa.s.s.
Then, instead of one triangle of light on his targeting monitor screen, Han saw two. He brought the quad-mount around hastily, its servos protesting, throwing him deeper against the padding of the gunner's seat.
A pinnace had come in from directly astern, its blaster fire bisecting the Falcon's upper hull precisely. There were deep vibrations as the stars.h.i.+p shuddered from the fire. Han couldn't stop himself, when he saw the volley walking along the hull at him, from throwing an arm up to protect himself. But deflectors held, and in a split second the pinnace had swept by with its two companions to come to bear for another run.
The pinnaces were perhaps twice the size of the lifeboat Han and Fiolla had stolen. They were fast, heavily armed, and nearly as maneuverable as fighters. Lacking hyperdrive, there was no question of outrunning them; the Falcon could only make a fight of it.
The freighter tilted and sideslipped as Spray attempted an evasive tactic. Han, his aim spoiled, yelled into his headset mike. ”Nothing fancy, Spray. Just go with their strafing runs and cut into their speed advantage; no aerobatics!”
Spray trimmed the freighter. The pinnaces had broken right and left with the third s.h.i.+p going into a steep, rolling climb for an overhead attack. Han held fire, knowing they were out of range, and bided his time. Spray headed the freighter deeper into the high mountains.
The pinnace that had broken left now dove abruptly and came in under the Falcon's belly. Han could hear the reports of Chewbacca's guns as he brought his own weapon around, its four barrels pivoting and elevating on their pintles in response to the commands of the targeting grips.
He tried for the diving pinnace. Outside the ball-turret the quad-guns responded minutely to the least adjustment of his controls. The computer limned aiming grids, plotted the pinnace's estimated course and speed, and predicted where it would be. Han slewed his seat around, hands clenching the grips, and four cannon barrels swung to follow suit. He opened fire and the quad-guns pounded red destruction at the bandit. He scored a partial hit, but the pinnace's s.h.i.+elds held and it managed to evade his fire almost instantly.
”Swindler!” he howled, tracking the pinnace in a hopeless effort to connect again. There was the sound of a distant explosion and a triumphant roar echoed up the ladderwell. Chewbacca had drawn first blood.
The third pinnace swept past, taking a course almost at right angles to the one Han was still tracking. The newcomer got off a sustained burst that splashed harmlessly off s.h.i.+elds, but there was a surge from the Millennium Falcon's engines. The s.h.i.+p's defensive mantle was in danger of failing, having taken extreme punishment from the sustained, well-directed fire of the attackers.
Realizing he couldn't catch up with the one he had just missed and ignoring his comlink, Han yelled down the ladderwell, ”Chewie! One in the Money Lane!”
Because of the Falcon's design, a flattened sphere, and the position of her main batteries at the precise top and bottom of the s.h.i.+p, her turrets' fields of fire overlapped in a wedge expanding from the freighter's waist all the way around. This overlap was what Han and his first mate called the Money Lane; kills scored there counted extra, since it was a shared responsibility; their standing wager on who was better with a quad-mount carried a double payoff for hits in the Money Lane.