The Idiot stared up at Hah.

Moving deliberately, Lando took his next card-chip, and laid it down beside the Idiot, face up. The Two of Staves.

Han couldn't breathe. I'm dead... I've lost ever~j-thing ....

Lando turned over the last of his cards.

The Seven of Flasks.

Han stared unbelievingly at the losing hand, then, slowly, he raised his eyes to regard his friend. Lando smiled wryly and shrugged. "Gotta hand it to you, buddy," the gambler said. "I thought I could bluff you."

Lando was bluffing! The Corellian~ head whirled as it sank in. I won! I can't believe it, but I won!

Slowly, deliberately, he laid down his card-chips.

"Pure sabacc," he said. "The sabacc pot is mine, too."

The Bith nodded. "Captain Solo is our tournament winner, gentlebeings," he said, speaking into the tiny amplifier attached to his collar. "Congratulations, Cap-tain Solo!"

Dizzily, Han nodded at the Bith, then he noticed that Lando was leaning across the table, his hand out. Excit-edly, Han reached over and wrung his friend's hand. "I can't believe it," he said. "What a game!"

"You're a better player than I ever gave you credit for being, old man," Lando said genially. Han wondered how Lando could be so composed when he'd just lost so much, then he reflected that the gambler had probably won and lost fortunes before.

Han picked up the data-card that was Lando's marker, and studied it. "So, what ship are you going to claim?" Lando asked. "I've got an 'almost new YT-2400 Corelli-systems light stock freighter that would be your best bet. Wait'11 you-" "I'm taking the Falcon," Han said, in a rush.

Lando's eyebrows went up. "-The Millennium Fal-con?" he said, obviously dismayed. "Oh, no. Han, that's my own personal vessel. That was never pa~ of the deal."

"You said any ship on your lot," Han reminded him, levelly. Their eyes locked. "You said any of your stock. The Falcon's sitting on your lot. I claim her."

"But-" Lando's mouth tightened, and his eyes flashed.

"Yeah, buddy?" Han said, letting an edge creep into his voice. "You gonna honor this marker, or what?"

Slowly, deliberately, Lando nodded. "n.o.body can say I don't honor my markers." He drew a long breath, then let it out in an angry hiss. "All right then ....the Falcon's yours."

Han grinned, then threw both arms up into the air and whirled around in an impromptu dance, giddy with joy. Wait'll I tell Chewie! The Millennium Falcon is mine! At last! A ship of our own!

Bria Tharen stood alone in the deserted holo-lounge, watching Han Solo as he rejoiced in his victory, wish-ing she could be there to hug him, kiss him, celebrate with him. This is wonderful/she thought exultantly. Oh, Han, you deserved w win/You played like a champion!

She wondered what the dark-skinned gambler had given the Corellian as a marker. Something valuable, obviously. Han was clutching the data-card as though it were the key to the most wonderful treasure in the universe.

It was late on the night of the fourth day, and the Corellian Commander's meetings with the Duros, the Sull.u.s.tan and the Alderaanians would be concluded to-morrow morning. They'd made progress in reaching some agreements, and all of them had learned a great deal about each other's culture, but nothing major had been decided. None of the three other Rebel groups had been willing to commit to Corellia's proposed Rebel alliance.

Bria sighed. She'd done her best, but it was obvious that there was still a long way to go. She supposed she shouldn't blame the other groups for their caution, but she couldn't help it. The situation with the Empire was only going to get worse, and the others were blind if they couldn't see that for themselves.

Heating the sound of footsteps, Bria turned, to find the Alderaanian girl, Winter, coming toward her. She was a lovely young woman with her crystal-colored hair and pale green eyes. Her simple, modestly cut green dress revealed a slender, regal figure. She was tall, though not as tall as Bria.

The Corellian Commander nodded, and the two of them watched the action from the tournament ball-room for a few minutes. Han was in the midst of other players now, mingling, being congratulated. Food and drink were circulating, and tournament officials, deal-ers, and hotel staff were now part of the crowd. A party atmosphere reigned.

"It looks like they're having more fun than we are in our meetings," Bria said dryly. "I envy them. Not a care in the world."

"Oh, I'm sure they have cares," Winter said. "But at the moment they've thrown them aside so they can exist only in the present."

Bria nodded. "Quite the philosopher, aren't you?"

The girl laughed a little, a musical, pleasant laugh. "Oh, we Alderaanians have a long tradition of debating philosophy, ethics, and morality. There are cafes in Aidera where citizens sit and argue philosophy 'all day long. It's a planetary tradition."

Bria chuckled a little. "Corellians have more of a reputation for being hot-headed doers, who get things accomplished, but love taking risks."

"Perhaps our two worlds need each other as a bal-ance," Winter observed.

Bria gave her a thoughtful glance. "Winter, would you like to go over to the bar and get a cup of vine-coffeine?"

"I'd like that," the girl said, nodding. Her crystalline hair rippled over her shoulders with each movement. Bria had hearkl that adult Alderaanians didn't cut their hair. Winter's cascaded down her back like a glacier.

When they were comfortably seated, with cups of the steaming, fragrant brew before them, Bria dis-creetly pressed a b.u.t.ton on her golden bracelet, and aimed the cornsca jewels that studded it outward into the room, then she turned her wrist upward, all the while studying the jewels. When no light flashed amidst them, she relaxed. No spy devices. Not that I expected any, but better to be safe than sorry ....

"So, Winter, tell me about yourself," Bria said. "How did you happen to come on this mission?"

"The Viceroy has been like a father to me," the girl said, quietly. "He raised me with his own daughter, Leia. I've been the princess's companion ever since we were little children." She smiled faintly, and Bria was struck once again by how poised, how mature, she was for her age. "There have been times when I've actually been mistaken for the princess. But I'm glad I'm not royal. It's hard being in the public eye all the time, the way the Viceroy and Leia are. Constant pressures, be-ing hounded by the press... your life isn't your own."

Bria nodded. "I suspect it's worse than being a vid-star, being royalty." She took a sip of her vine-coffeine. "So Bail Organa raised you... and yet he allowed you to come on this mission, knowing there could be dan-ger, if we were discovered?" Bria raised her eyebrows. "I'm surprised. You seem a little young to have to en-dure such risks."

Winter smiled. "I'm a year and a few months older than the princess. I just turned seventeen. That's the age of responsibility on Alderaan."

"Same as CoreIlia," Bria said. "Too young. When I was seventeen, I didn't have a bit of sense." She grinned ruefully. "That's so long ago... it Seems like a million years, instead of nine."

"You seem older than that," Winter observed, "even if you don't look it. Twenty-six and a Commander? You must have started young." She stirred traladon milk into her vine-coffeine.

"I did," Bria agreed, lightly. "And if I seem older than my age, well... a year as a slave on Ylesia will do that to a girl. Those spice factories take a lot out of you." "You were a slave?" Winter seemed surprised.

"Yes. I was rescued from Ylesia by a... friend. But physically getting off the planet was the easy part," Bria admitted. "Long 'after my body was free, my mind and spirit were still enslaved. I had to learn to free myself, and it was the hardest thing I've ever done."

Winter nodded, her gaze sympathetic. Bria was a bit surprised at herself for opening up to the girl this way, but the Alderaanian teenager was amazingly easy to talk to. It was obvious that she wasn't just making conversa-tion, she really cared about what Bria was saying. The commander shrugged slightly. "It cost me everything that was important to me, basically. Love, family... se-curity. But it was worth it, to be myself. And it brought me a new purpose in life."

"Fighting the Empire."

The older woman nodded. "Fighting the Empire that condones and encourages slavery. The filthiest, most degrading practice ever developed by supposedly civilized sentients."

"I've heard about Ylesia," Winter said. "The Viceroy ordered an investigation of the place a few years ago, when a few unpleasant rumors surfaced. Since that time, he's kept up a public information campaign to let Alderaanians know the truth about the place-about the spice factories, the forced labor."

"That's the worst thing about it," Bria said, bitterly. "They don't force you. People work themselves to death there, and they do it willingly. It's horrible. If only I had the soldiers and weapons, I'd head for Ylesia tomorrow with a couple of squadrons. We'd shut that stinking mudhole down for good."

"It would take a lot of troops."

"Yes, it would. They have eight or nine colonies there, now. Thousands of slaves." Bria cautiously sipped the hot beverage. "So... are you looking forward to to-morrow's session?"

Winter sighed. "Not really."

"I don't blame you," Bria said. "It must be pretty boring, hearing us wrangle 'all day over whether or not a Rebel Alliance is the right course of action. You ought to skip tomorrow's session, and go have some fun. Cloud City has tours to go watch the beldon herds, and there are aerial rodeos where thranta riders do stunts. I've heard it's an amazing thing to watch."

"I have to be at the conference tomorrow," Winter said. "Minister Dahlney needs me."

"Why?" Bria was puzzled. "For moral support?" The girl smiled faintly. "No. I am his recorder. He needs me to help him prepare his report for the Viceroy."

"Recorder?"

"Yes. Everything I see, or experience, or hear, I re-member," Winter said. "I cannot forget, though some-times I wish I could." Her lovely features grew sad, as though she was recalling some unpleasant scene from the past.

"Really?" Bria was thinking how handy that would be, to have someone like that on staff. She herself had taken lessons and hypno-conditioning to improve her own recall, because so little of what she did could be entrusted to datafiles or fiimsies. "You're right, that would make you inv:aluable."

"The reason that I said I wasn't looking forward to tomorrow's session," Winter said, leaning forward across the table, "wasn't that I was bored, Commander. What I meant was that it's hard for me to listen to Hric Dahlney stubbornly insist that Alderaanian ethics are more important than defeating the Empire."

Bria c.o.c.ked her head. "Oh... now, that~ interesting.

What makes you say that?"

"Twice, when I accompanied Leia and the Viceroy to diplomatic functions on Coruscant-" she stopped her-self, then smiled ruefully, "I mean, to Imperial Center- I saw the Emperor. One of those times, Emperor Palpatine stopped and spoke to me, just a perfunctory greeting, but..." She hesitated, biting her lip, and for the first time, Bria saw her maturity slip, and a fright-ened child in those youthful features.

"Bria, I looked into his eyes. I cannot forget them, no matter how I try. Emperor Palpatine is evil. Unnatural, in some strange way...." The girl shuddered, despite the cozy warmth of the bar. "He frightened me. He was... malevolent. That's the only word that fits."

"I've heard stories," Bria said. "Though I've never met him. I've seen him from a distance, but that's all."

"You don't want to meet him," Winter said. "Those eyes of his . . . they fasten on you, and you feel as though they will drink up your spirit, 'all that makes you what you are."

Bria sighed. "That's why we must resist him," she said. "That's what he wants, to engulf us 'all... planets, sentients... everything. Palpatine is determined to be-come the most absolute despot in history. We have to fight him, or we'll 'all be ground to dust."

"I agree," Winter said. "And that's why I'm going to go back to Alderaan and tell the Viceroy that we of Alderaan must arm ourselves and learn to fight."

Bria blinked, startled. "Really? But that's not the way Minister Dahlney thinks."

"I know," the girl said. "And I know that the Viceroy is opposed to taking up arms. But your words over the past few days have convinced me that if Alderaan doesn't fight, we'll be destroyed. We'll know no true peace as long as the Emperor rules."

"Do you think Bail Organa will listen to you?" Bria said, feeling a spark of hope. At least I reached one person these past few days . . . it wasn't a complete waste ....

"I don't know," Winter replied. "Perhaps. He is a good man, and respects those who can make their points well, even if they are young. He does believe in resisting the Empire. He has already arranged for me and his daughter to be given special training in intelli-gence-gathering techniques. He'S aware that two young, innocent-seeming girls may be able t go places and do things where seasoned diplomats would fail."

Bria nodded. "I've found that out myself," she said. "It's a sad but unfortunate fact that a pretty face and a sweet smile can provide a pa.s.sport to places inside the Imperial bureaucracy and the High Command... where other efforts would be doomed to fail."

The attractive Commander smiled wryly as she poured another cup of vine-coffeine. "As you've no doubt noticed, the Empire is a male-dominated, human-dominated organization. And human males can be . . . manipulated . . . by woman, sometimes aH too easily. I don't like it, and it doesn't make it right, but it~ the re-suits that count. I've learned that, over the years."

"Even if Viceroy Organa won't listen to me," Winter said, "I'm sure Leia will. She insisted that our Intelli-gence training include lessons in how to use weapons effectively. Both of us have learned to shoot, and to hit what we aim at. The Viceroy didn't like the idea, at first, but when he thought it over, he agreed, and even chose a Weapons Master for Leia. He~ an intelligent man, and he could see that there might be situations where we'd need to know how to defend ourselves."

"What good will convincing the princess do?" Bria asked. "I know she~ supposed to be well-loved, but she~ still just a young girl."

"The Viceroy is considefing appointing her Alder-aan~ representative to the Imperial Senate next year," Winter said. "Don't underestimate Leia~ strength of purpose or influence."

"I won't," Bria said. She smiled at Winter. "I'm so glad we had this talk. I was feeling so discouraged, and you've lifted my spirits. I'm very grateful."

"I'm grateful to you, Commander," Winter said. "For speaking the truth in my hearing. The Corellian resis-tance is fight. Our best hope is a Rebel Alliance. I only hope it can happen one day...."

As the post-tournament party began to wind down, Han found himself beside Lando. He gestured at the door. "C'mon, I'll buy you a drink."

Lando smiled wryly. "You'd better be buying, old buddy. You've got all my credits."

Han grinned. "I'm buying. Hey... Lando, need a loan? And do you want to book pa.s.sage back to Nar Shaddaa on that liner that~ leaving tomorrow?"

Lando hesitated. "Yes... and no. I'd like to borrow a thousand, and I'm good for it. But I've decided to stay here on Bespin for a while. Some of the sentients who didn't make it to the finals of the tournament are bound to be hitting the casinos here on Cloud City, trying to recoup some of what they lost. I should do 'all fight."

Han nodded, and counted out credit vouchers equal-ing fifteen hundred credits, then handed them to Lando. "Take your time, buddy. No hurry."

Lando gave his friend a grin as they approached the bar. "Thanks, Han."

"Hey . . . that sabacc pot added to my other win-nings... well, I can afford it." The Corellian felt physi-cally tired, but so exhilarated that he knew he couldn't sleep-not yet. He had to savor his victory, his owner-ship of the Falcon, just a little bit longer.

"Well, I'm headin' back tomorrow. No reason to stick around, and Chewie'11 be wondering how I am."

Lando glanced across the bar and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, I see at least two reasons to stick around."

Hah followed his friend~ glance, saw the two women who were leaving the bar through the lobby exit. One was tall and full-bodied, with short black hair, the other was little more than a girl, slender, with long white hair. He shook his head. "Lando, you never quit. That tall one could put you on your rear, she~ built like a null-gee wrestler, and the other is an invitation to a nice jail cell for corrupting a minor."

Lando shrugged. "Well, if not those two, then there are plenty of other lovely ladies here in Cloud City. And I want to check out the business opportunities here. I kind of like the place."

Hah grinned smugly at his friend. "Suit yourself. My-self, I can't wait to get home and take my ship out for a spin." He signaled the robo-bartender. "What~ your pleasure, my friend?"

Lando rolled his eyes. "Polanis red for me, and a nice shot of poison for you." Han laughed.

"So... where are you going first in your new ship?"

Lando asked.

"I'm gonna keep a promise I made to Chewie almost three years ago and take him to see his family on Kashyyyk," Hah said. "With the Falcon I ought to be able to slip past those Imp patrols, no sweat." "How long has it been since he was on Kashyyyk?" "Ahnost fifty-three years," Hah said. "A lot could have happened in that time. He left a father, some cousins, and a lovely young Wookiee female behind. 'Bout time he went home and checked up on 'em."

"Fifty years?" Lando shook his head. "I can't think of any human woman that would wait fifty years for me ....

"I know," Han said. "And apparently Chexvie never did have an understanding with Mallatobuck. I warned him he'd better expect to find her married and a grandmother."

Lando nodded, and, when the drinks arrived, raised his in a toast. Han lifted his gla.s.s of Alderaanian ale. "To the Millennium Falcon," Lando said. "The fastest hunk of junk in the galaxy. You take care of her, now."

"To the Falcon," Han echoed. "My ship. May she fly fast and free, and outrun every Imp vessel in existence."

Solemnly, they clinked their gla.s.ses, then together, they drank.

It was a sultry day on Nal Hutta, but, then, almost every day was sultry there. Sultry, rainy, damp and pol-luted... that was Nal Hutta. But the Hutts liked it that way; they loved their adopted homeworld. "Nal Hutta" meant "Glorious Jewel" in Huttese.