Star Wars - Han Solo and the Lost Legacy (18 page)

The Mission Commander was exhorting his followers. Bollux, his photoreceptors glowing red in the night, slowly opened the halves of his chest plastron. Blue Max, carefully coached by the labor ’droid, activated his own photoreceptor, playing it across the crowd. Han heard sounds of indrawn breath among the Survivors.

Max switched from optical scanning to holo-projection mode. A cone of light sprang from him; there hovered in the air an image he had recorded off Skynx’s tapes, the symbol of Xim the Despot, the grinning death’s head with the starburst in each black eye socket. From his vocoder came recorded tech readouts from the tapes in the language of the Survivors.

The crowd drew back, many of them thrusting their thumbs at Bollux to fend off evil. Max put forth more images he had taken from the information Skynx had compiled: an ancient fleet of space battlewagons in flight against the stars; the brilliance of a full-scale engagement with exploding missiles, flaring cannonfire, and probing lasers; battle standards passing in review, displaying unit colors that had been forgotten long ago. The entire time, the ’droid was surreptitiously edging to the pyramidal cage’s door. While the crowd was riveted to Max’s performance, Bollux manipulated the door’s handle behind his back.

A yell went up from the assembled Survivors just as Bollux succeeded in throwing the bolt on the stubborn lock. Blue Max had projected a halo of the war-robot’s cranial turret that Skynx had brought onboard the
Millennium Falcon
. Max held the image, capitalizing on their response, rotating it to show all sides. The Survivors jabbered animatedly among themselves, moving back from the frightening ghost-holo. Bollux stepped away from the cage door.

Max began running through all the other visual information he had stored about Xim’s war-robots. Schematics,
manual-extracts, records of the ponderous combat machines in motion, closeup details of construction, and full-length views. All the while, Bollux moved slowly forward. Step by step the crowd yielded ground, seemingly hypnotized by Max’s projections. In the excitement and poor light nobody noticed that the cage door was now unlocked.

“He may not be able to hold them much longer,” Han whispered. Bollux was now at the center of a near-circle of Survivors.

“Time to jump,” Badure said.

Han agreed. “Make your way to the edge of the field. Nobody stops for anybody else, understood?”

Hasti, Badure, and even Skynx nodded. Unarmed, they could do little except run from the Survivors. Each individual would be responsible for his own life; stopping to give aid would be suicidal and expected of no one.

Han swung the door open slowly and stepped through. Shouting, gesticulating Survivors were still occupied with Bollux. The Mission Commander had left his rostrum to try to make his way through the crowd to Bollux, but was having trouble making headway through the press of his own people. Han waited while the others emerged.

Chewbacca slipped through the door and moved off like a shadow. Badure moved with less agility, then Hasti. Skynx exited and set off at once for the edge of the field. Low to the ground, he was nearly impossible to see. The Ruurian didn’t pause or look back; he adhered to Han’s directions completely, having acquired some of the necessary makeup of an adventurer. Han moved around the end of the cage to bring up the rear. He nearly backed into Hasti. “Where’s Badure?” she mouthed silently.

They couldn’t spot him at first, then made out the old man as he nonchalantly strolled around the edge of the crowd, heading for the abandoned altar where the weapons lay. No one paid him any heed; all of them were transfixed by Max’s holos of a war-robot being put through its paces, firing weapons, and lumbering through basic infantry tactics.

“He’s going for the guns,” Han whispered. Chewbacca, who had also paused, stood with them, watching the old man’s progress.

“We can’t help him now; he either makes it or not. We’ll wait at the edge of the field as long as we can.” He didn’t know if he was happy Badure was trying for their weapons, feeling naked and helpless without his blaster, or dismayed that the old man was risking his life.

Just then a Survivor sentry, coming in off his post, stepped out of the darkness and nearly stumbled over Skynx. The Ruurian chirped in fear and went into reverse. The guard’s eyes bulged in amazement at the woolly, many-legged creature, then he fumbled for the flame-rifle at his shoulder, crying out an alarm.

A shaggy arm reached out and the weapon was snatched from his hands. Chewbacca’s fist shot through the air and the guard was lifted, stretched out stiff as a post, to fall on the landing field, his left foot quivering.

People on the fringe of the crowd had heard the guard and repeated the alarm. Heads turned; in a moment the shout was taken up by many voices. Han ran, took the bell-mouthed flame-rifle, and slewed it in a wide, horizontal arc. A wash of orange fire streamed over the heads of the crowd. Survivors dropped to the ground, grabbing for their weapons and screaming conflicting orders at one another. Han could hear the shrieking Mission Commander trying futilely to bring order out of chaos.

Badure, having reached the altar, was out of the crowd’s immediate line of sight. He shouldered Chewbacca’s bowcaster and bandoleer of ammunition and began tucking weapons into his belt.

Shots were now being pegged across the field at them. “Keep out of the way!” hollered Han, elbowing Chewbacca behind him. He backed slowly, covering the withdrawal and creating a diversion for Badure. He directed his discharges into the ground between himself and the massed Survivors, making puddles of fire to spoil their aim and sending intermittent
streamers of flame over them to force their heads down. A line of tracer bullets chewed up the field a meter or two to his right, and a pale particle beam barely missed his head.

The escapees needed cover badly, but their section of the field was open and offered none. Chewbacca, with sudden inspiration, ran for the gong and, back and arm muscles swelling with effort, lifted it from its support hooks, his widespread arms grabbing it by two carrying handles welded to its back.

The slugs, beams, and flames of the firefight dissected the air. The Survivors’ shots were gaining in accuracy, though they weren’t used to such a pitched battle. Badure, running in a low crouch to work his way back to his companions, was spotted by the crowd. Somebody let fly with an old rocket pistol, blowing up a clot of stone in his path. In a frantic effort to change course, Badure lost his balance, and Survivors’ shots began to converge on him.

Chewbacca grounded the gong in front of Han as he and the others took shelter behind it. Projectile and energy weapons splashed and ricochetted from the shield; whatever the gong was made of, it was very durable material.

Han blazed away at the Survivors to keep them from pressing the attack against Badure. He had been spending the flame-rifle’s ammo recklessly and knew he might soon find himself defenseless. Badure, struggling to rise, was having trouble. The Survivors’ aim was zeroing in on him now, and he returned the fire as well as he could.

I warned him
, thought Han.
Life-Debt or no, it’s everyone for himself
. He had trouble selling the idea to himself, though.

Then the decision was taken from him. Issuing a deafening Wookiee battle cry, Chewbacca moved off, holding up the gong to protect himself. Han looked back and saw that Hasti and Skynx were watching him. The girl, he thought, would surely run to help Badure if he didn’t.

“Don’t just stand there,” he snarled. “Get to cover!” He gave her a shove toward the edge of the field and dashed off
the other way, laying down heavy fire as he sprinted, zigzagging after the Wookiee.

“You crazy fur-face!” he roared at his first mate when he had caught up to him. “What’re you doing, playing captain again?” Chewbacca took a moment from angling and maneuvering the gong for an irritated, explanatory growl.

“
Life-Debt
?” Han exploded, dodging around his friend into the open to snap off a pair of quick shots. “And who pays up if you lose us
ours
?”

But he maintained his fire, sideskipping along behind the straining, gong-toting Wookiee and bounding from cover to either side of him to get off a shot or two. Flames lit the scene, and the air was smoky and hot from the firefight. The flame-rifle’s discharges were growing weaker, and its range was decreasing.

Skirting a section of field torn and ruptured by the battle, they finally reached Badure, who was pressed down flat on the ground, shooting with the pair of long-barreled power pistols. Chewbacca heaved the gong between the old man and the oncoming shots. Han coaxed a last feeble flicker from the flame-rifle, then threw it aside. Dropping to one knee, he helped Badure up. “Last bus is leaving now, Lieutenant-commander.”

“I’ll take a one-way on that,” panted Badure, adding, “glad you could make it, boys.”

Han snagged his own blaster from Badure’s belt, and a sudden confidence steadied him. He stepped into the clear, crouched low, and let off a series of quick shots. Two Survivor marksmen who had been taking careful aim with heavy-particle beamers fell away in different directions, their wounds smoking.

Han ducked back, waited a beat, then stepped into the open again on the same side of the gong, eluding the aim of those who had been waiting to see him emerge on the opposite side. His bolts dropped two more enemies from the ragged firing line. But Survivor flankers could be seen in the
wavering light, fanning out to either side in an effort to cut off retreat.

“Let’s jump!” Han cried. Chewbacca began back-pedaling, still holding the gong, and headed for the field’s edge as Badure and Han kept up the most intense fire they could, pinning down the Survivors facing them and impeding the flankers. Their energy weapons lit the night, answered by bullets, blaster bolts, needles, harpoons, particle beams, and gushes of flame. Han occasionally assisted the Wookiee’s progress with a judicious shove.

Someone came toward them. Badure nearly burned the silhouetted form before Han batted the power pistol aside. “Bollux! Over here!”

The ’droid somehow made it to the gong’s cover; they withdrew step by hotly contended step. A group of Survivor flankers was nearly in position to enfilade them, crouching by the antenna mast. Badure held both long-barreled weapons up side by side and fired at the flankers. Men fell and the instrument shorted out; the mast’s power supply was drained in a swirl of energy, and the mast fell, wreathed in crackling discharges. It crashed into the rostrum and rostrum, frame, and log-recorder disk went up in flames.

Han heard his named called. Skynx and Hasti crouched at the edge of the field. Firing and scrambling, the others joined them.

“We can’t retreat down that snowfield; it’s too steep,” Hasti declared, “and even Chewbacca couldn’t carry that gong down. We’d make perfect targets out there.”

Han dealt out a few more shots, pondering her reasoning and their lack of alternatives. Then Chewbacca, surveying the situation, barked a quick scheme to him.

“Partner, you
are
crazy,” Han exclaimed, not without a certain respect. But he saw no nonfatal alternative. “What’s keeping us?” He pulled the others closer and explained the plan. They readied themselves, having no time for fear or doubts.

Then Han yelled. “Chewie! Go!” The Wookiee backpedaled
to the edge of the field, whirled, stooped, and laid the concave gong down, its curved surface indenting the hard, icy snowfield. Han fired furiously.

Badure dropped awkwardly onto the gong and grabbed a carrying handle. Bollux climbed onto the opposite side of the rim, locking servo-grips onto two more handles. Skynx swarmed aboard and clung tightly around the ’droid’s neck, antennae flailing. Hasti braced herself next to Badure, and Chewbacca had to brace his broad feet in the snow at the tug of the gong’s weight.

Han still stood, keeping up a heavy volume of fire. He shouted, “I’ll pile on last!”

Chewbacca didn’t take time to argue; he swept out one long arm, gathered his friend in like a child, and threw himself onto the gong. Shots from the Survivor flankers crisscrossed overhead. The Wookiee’s impetus and weight gave them a quick start.

The gong gathered speed, spinning and sliding as it cut along the icy slope. Chewbacca lifted his head and uttered a foghorn-like hoot of elation, to which Skynx added a “
Wee-ee hee-ee!
”

The gong tilted and rotated to the left as it swished across the snow. Chewbacca threw his weight the other way; they bounced and slid on a fairly even keel for a few seconds, then hit a small rock outcropping in the snowfield.

They were airborne, all hands seeking a grip and flailing to stay aboard; to fall from the gong now and slide the rest of the way without protection would mean severe laceration by ice shards and shattered bones from the hardened patches and rocks.

They came down again with a breath-stealing jolt; everyone, miraculously, contrived to cling to the bucking, jarring gong. Han grabbed Hasti, who, in helping Badure, had nearly lost her own grip. The
Falcon
’s master encircled her waist with his free arm while she clenched a handful of Badure’s flight jacket. Badure, in turn, had locked legs with Chewbacca, helping the Wookiee steer by leaning and tugging at
the handles. Chewbacca, like the others, could barely see; their headlong speed through the icy air had stung everyone’s eyes to tears and was numbing their exposed skin.

In leaning abruptly to the side, the Wookiee succeeded in guiding their mad descent around a prow of stone that would have smashed them all, but in the process he lost his balance. Bollux quickly shifted his central torsional member and secured his legs around the
Falcon
’s first officer’s.

Badure held on to Chewbacca, too, reaching out with a free hand to help steady the Wookiee. But in doing so he saw he was about to lose Chewbacca’s bowcaster and bandoleer. He cried out, his words stolen instantly by the wind, but Han was busy clinging to a handle and hanging onto Hasti and she to Badure, while Badure and Bollux were committed to keeping Chewbacca aboard. Meanwhile, the Wookiee devoted all his attention to what could only in the most ludicrous sense be termed “steering.”