Q9 hit the c.o.c.kpit door control and they all stepped out into the ship's corridor. Ebrihim went to the door of the children's cabin and knocked. "Jaina, Jacen, Anakin. We've landed safely. You can unstrap now and come out."

Ebrihim tried to step out of the way quickly, but he was nearly trampled all the same as the three children tumbled out of the cabin.

AAULK AT 3tLO 79 78 Dogm MocSr A-v By the time he got himself untangled from them, Chewbacca and Q9 were ready to open the airlock bulkhead door and lower the access ramp. "Wait just a moment!"

Ebrihim called out, and hurried over. "I'd best go first, alone.

There was a brief chorus of protests from all hands, but Ebrihim shook his head firmly. "No," he said. "I go alone. I am known here, and you are not. They might well have spotted our landing from the house, and could be a trifle nervous about it. Things could go badly if they saw a stranger coming out of the ship."

"Well," said Jaina, "I guess you're probably right. But hurry back!

We've been cooped up in this ship way too long."

"I'll be back as fast as I can. However, friend Chewbacca, it might be just as well if we were ready for a quick takeoff. It's possible that my aunt isn't here, and that we'll encounter a somewhat, ah, less hospitable welcome than we might like."

Chewbacca nodded his agreement.

"Anakin, if you would be so kind as to open the hatch and let the ramp down," Ebrihim said.

"Sure thing!" Anakin cried, delighted at the chance to do real work with real machinery. He punched in the proper codes and watched with obvious pride as the inner hatch opened and the ramp dropped smoothly down into the dark night. The night air of Drall wafted into the ship, cool and inviting, redolent with the soft, flat tang of a river breeze.

"I'll be back as soon I am able," Ebrihim said, trying not to sound nervous. And, indeed, why should he feel nervous? This was his family seat, his home. If there were any place in the universe that he ought to feel safe, and comfortable, it was here.

He walked down the ramp, out into the dark night of home. As he stepped onto the soil of Drall for the first time in years, he was surprised by how soft it felt underfoot.

Stepping clear of the ship, he walked a little ways toward the house, but then stopped. There is a bit of folklore common to the s.p.a.ceways, a little piece of knowledge that all believe to be true. In its crudest terms, it is that there is no place like home. You can never be as comfortable as on your own home planet, with the air pressure, the atmosphere, the gravity, and all the other things exactly as you knew them as a child.

It felt good to Ebrihim to be back under Drall's lighter gravity, breathing its sweet air. Even the hooting and cawing of the night creatures, the hums and buzzes of the local insects, seemed to reach out to him, soothe him, remind him of days gone by. The very air seemed perfumed, laden with all sorts...o...b..AM!

A high-powered blaster bolt blew up the ground right in front of him.

Ebrihim dove for the ground and landed face-first in a thicket of big, blue, foolish-looking flowers that gave out a cloyingly sweet scent.

His aunt's prized garden.

"Who's there?" a familiar voice cried out. "Did I hit anybody?"

His aunt. What was she doing out here packing heavy weapons?

"Don't shoot!" Ebrihim cried out. "Don't shoot. It's me, your nephew Ebrihim!"

"Ebrihim?" his aunt's voice asked. "What the devil are you doing out there? Did you come on that raider ship that's lurking back there?"

"It's no raider!" he called out. "Those aboard are friends! We are here seeking help!"

"Then why land like thieves in the night?" she asked, coming close enough for Ebrihim to see her by starlight.

She looked a bit older and stouter than he remembered, but seemed as vigorous as ever. Of course, the oversized blaster rifle she was carrying added to the impression of vigor. "It is you, Ebrihim," she said, in a slightly irritated tone of voice, as if she were expecting him to have changed into someone else.

"Get yourself up. You look ridiculous down there.

"Yes, ma'am," Ebrihim said, scrambling to his feet and brushing the dirt out of his fur.

"Now then, tell me quick and no foolish answers.

Why did that pilot sneak up on the house? Why did he land in the trees, if you have nothing to hide?"

"We weren't hiding from you" Ebrihim said. "We were afraid someone from the outside might spot us.

The pilot put down there to try and keep out of sight from above."

"Hppphm. I see," said Aunt Marcha. She slung the blaster rifle over her shoulder and bent down to examine one of the bright blue flowers Ebrihim had crushed when he dove for cover. Straightening up, she surveyed the ground under the Millennium Fakon's landing pads.

"Next time," she said, her voice more peeved than ever, "tell your pilot friend to land somewhere besides my nannarium beds."

CHAPTER FIVE.

Seems Like Old Times The bucketful of water hit Han square in the face.

"Wake up," an unpleasantly familiar voice told him as he sat upright, spluttering and coughing.

"Show's over."

Han opened his eyes cautiously, and instantly knew that caution was called for. He was back in his cell, and Fthe light was none too bright.

Even so, it hurt his Feyes. For that matter, pretty much every part of him hurt. That Selonian, Dracmus, packed one heck of a wallop.

Thrackan tossed the empty metal bucket into the far corner of the cell, and its clattering was enough to set off a pounder of a headache at the base of Han's skull.

"Come on," Thrackan said, his voice impatient.

''Snap out of it. My medics checked you over, and they told me you'd live. Said you were too mean to kill easy.

"Being mean was always your department, Thrackan," Han said, his voice barely more than a croak. He opened his eyes a bit more fully, and watched as his cousin laughed, pulled up a stool, and sat down facing Han on the cot.

"There's the Han I always knew," Thrackan said.

"Good to hear you show some spirit."

Thrackan was close to Han. Oddly close. Han suddenly realized he could smell alcohol on his cousin's breath. He noticed that Thrackan was carrying a bottle of what looked very much like Vasarian brandy.

His cousin was at least a little drunk. "What do you want now, Thrackan?" Han asked, nOt sure of what was going on. "You've had your entertainment."

"Don't push it, Han. Don't have much patience left for you, believe me."

"So why are you here?" Han asked, unable to control his temper completely. "Is it a slow day, and you want to kill an hour or two pulling my fingernails out?"

"Don't give me ideas," Thrackan said. "I don't need any. I already have an idea. A surprise for you. But I'll show you that in a little while. First I want to talk with you.

Han tried to laugh, but the sound came out as a strangled cough.

"Yeah, we have a lot of catching up to do.

What is it that brings you down here?" Besides that bottle you have in your hand At a guess, his cousin had started feeling just a trifle guilty about what he had done, and had come down here to force Han to say it was all right. Not the most logical train of thought, but it was the sort of thing Thrackan would do.

"Wanted to see you," Thrackan said, a trifle indistinctly.

"Besides, there's something I wanted to tell you before the surprise.

And something I need you to do."

"All right," Han said. "What did you want to tell me?"

Thrackan let out a sigh. "I'm here because I need your help.

Otherwise, I'd have executed you by now for the attack on the s.p.a.ceport."

"Did you think that having a Selonian beat me to a pulp would inspire me to help you?"

"That was necess'ry," Thrackan said dismissively.

"Real-life theater for the officers. You're the mOst important prisoner we have taken-and you know as well as I do about family loyalty on this d.a.m.n planet. All those stories about a man who sacrifices principles and duty to take care of his family. My men needed to see I wasn't influenced by that sort of thing."

"Glad I could help demonstrate your integrity," Han said. He remembered those stories a bit differently, of course. The moral of those stories was that it was good to put family first. Apparently, there would be none of that nonsense in the Human League. "But why do you need me?"

Thrackan looked his cousin straight in the face. "For two reasons.

First, I'm gonna let everyone know you are where I am.

You'll be a sort of insurance policy. This place is hidden pretty good, but they've found betterhidden places than this. Pretty strong place, too, but get a big enough bomb and aim it carefully enough, and no structure will stand."

Han smiled. "If anyone gets a chance to take a crack at you, I doubt they'll be much worried about taking me out at the same time."

"Brave words, but not true. If-and it is a veiy big ifGovernor-General Micamberlecto manages to stage a counterattack, or if the New Republic manages to join the party, they won't wanna make any attack that would endanger you. Do you really b'lieve the GovernorGeneral and your wife would order a bombing run against the structure you were in? Or that a fleet of New Republic ships, captained by all your old buddies, would wanna try it? Never,"

Thrackan said, with a flat finality.

"Maybe they'd take a crack at some sort of crazy commando raid to rescue you, but lemme tell ya, we are all set to deal with that eventa'lity." Thrackan seemed to realize that he had a little trouble with that last word and frowned.

There was enough truth in what Thrackan was saying that Han didn't wish to pursue it further. "What was the second reason you need me?" he asked, hoping to change the subject.

Thrackan took another pull off the bottle, and then made a vague sort of gesture with his free hand. "Right now I'm telling lies to the world. All part of the plan.

When the time comes for me to tell the truffir at least to let the truth get out-you will be a very useful messenger. People-the people who matter-will believe you.

"Telling lies and truth about what?" Han asked.

Thrackan smiled. "Oh, no. No, no. No. I'm not taking chances.

Might've said too much already." Thrackan paused for a moment, and looked Han straight in the face. He put his hand on his cousin's knee, and gave it an affectionate little squeeze that sent fresh spasms of pain through Han's bruised body. Thrackan clearly did not notice.

"You know, much as I ate to admit it, it's good to see you.

Maybe we're enemies at the moment, and you're my prisoner, but I suppose that old family feeling is still there. Thkes me back to the old days."

"Same here," Han said. Not that the old days with his cousin were anything he wanted to remember, but his dancing lesson with Dracmus had certainly reminded him of them. Still, if Thrackan was in a talking mood, he wanted to encourage him. "But it seems to me that we have a lot to worry about here in the present."

"That we do. At least I do. You're not going to be going anywhere or doing much of anything for a while."

"I sort of figured that."

Thrackan made an attempt to put a crafty expression on his face, and shook his finger at Han. "But can I count on your cooperation while you're here? When the time's right, you'll be released, and we'll give you a message to carry-unless, of course, you've caused so much trouble in the meantime that it's not worthwhile keeping you around."

"Thrackan, I don't now how to say this, but I am something close to a prisoner of war in all this. It's my job to cause trouble."

"I was afraid you'd see it that way. I don't suppose I could get you to give me your parole, the way Dracmus did?"

"Sorry. No can do."

"And even if you did, I don't think I'd trust you as far as I'd trust her," Thrackan said. Amazing, really, the casual arrogance of the man. One moment he was waxing nostalgic over the old days spent beating smaller children to a pulp, and the next he was tossing off a contemptuous insult of Han's honor that was made worse by being completely unconsidered. "We almost got your kids, you know. Our spotters saw that Wookiee pal of yours hustle them into your ship, and we scrambled a flight of PPBs to go after them. If we had caught them, we'd realty have some leverage on your wife."

Han stared at his cousin, astonished in spite of himself. It took a very special kind of mind to come up which such schemes, to see so much and yet be so blind.

"How can you do it, Thrackan? How can you go against the best traditions of our people? Never involve the innocent. Always protect your famity. Don't those words sound familiar at all?"

"I don't run my life according to the morals from old nursery stories," Thrackan said.

"So how do you run your life?" Han asked, his temper starting to get the better of him. "What are the moral lessons you live by?"

Thrackan chortled and took another pull at his bottle.

"Fine questions coming from a pirate and a smuggler and a traitor."

"I've been called worse," Han said evenly. "But we're talking about you. I really want to know. How did you get to where you are?"

There was no such thing as enough information about the enemy.

Han knew the oo 10gW n. CCSflCC N AUMULT Ar MO size of his cousin's ego. If Han could twit his vanity, get him talking about himself, Thrackan might well reveal something valuable.

"When I left Corellia," Han went on, "you weren't much more than an Imperial bureaucrat. How did you get to be the Grand Exalted Hidden Leader, or whatever it is they call you now?"

Thrackan sneered. "They call me by my proper t.i.tle.