The tackier was Hasti. She had seen that J'uoch's men on the ramp were about to open fire on Badure. Propelled by its repulsor power and forced air, the remote globe had taken two antagonists out of the fight. J'uoch was shooting at it with Hasti's confiscated pistol, missing, and screaming orders that her troops ignored.

Han had retrieved the carbine, knocking his opponent away with a stroke of the weapon's b.u.t.t. He spotted his partner struggling to rise as Egome Fa.s.s hovered over him. The enforcer's hood was thrown back, and in the light spilling down through the hatch, Han saw the humanoid's huge, square jaw and tiny, gleaming eyes set far back under thick, bony ridges of brow.

Han clamped the carbine stock to his hips and squeezed off a burst. The weapon stuttered with a deafening staccato and reeked of burned propellant. A stream of slugs plucked at the enforcer's chest but only ripped away fragments of cloth. Egome Fa.s.s was wearing body armor under his outsized coveralls. Before Han could adjust for effect, the humanoid lunged for cover.

A wash of white fire flared on Han's right. Turning, he saw that it was a power-pistol shot aimed at Badure by a man on the ramp who missed because Hasti had just tackled the old man. But it hit the man with whom Badure had been struggling. He shrieked once and died as he fell.

Han grabbed Chewbacca's elbow as the Wookiee struggled to his feet, shaking his head to clear it. Retaking the Falcon was impossible; the two remaining guards at the ramp head were kneeling in the shelter of the hatchway and firing into the night. "Get back!" Han hollered to his companions. He moved back, firing in brief bursts, followed by Hasti and Badure with Skynx scuttling rapidly behind.

The spotty return fire, hasty and poorly aimed, never came close. But one guard, a leather-skinned creature with a h.o.r.n.y carapace, blocked Bollux's retreat. Blue Max beeped, and immediately the remote flashed out of the darkness, striking the creature from behind and knocking it over. Since the remote couldn't operate at any great distance from the starship, Max gave the signal that sent it jetting back onboard.

The labor 'droid hurried after the others, bounding in long strides made possible by heavy-duty suspension. The group ran, bounded, and scuttled to the edge of the landing area. All the while Han raked the field behind them to keep J'uoch's people pinned down. Then the carbine went silent.

"Drum's empty," he said. Off in the night he could hear J'uoch railing at her followers and calling for a comlink.

"She's posting a guard on the ship and calling for reinforcements," Badure announced. "We'd best lose ourselves in town for a while."

The group descended through the city in an informal race, past shuttered shops and locked doors. No lights could be seen; the Dellaltians who had seemed so curious earlier wanted no part of this lethal dispute among offworlders. Leading the others, Han plunged into an alley, followed it to a market plaza, and hurried down a trellised side street that smelled of strange foods and fuels.

They came to a factory district. Pausing in the shadows, the humans and the Wookiee leaned against a wall and fought for breath while Bollux waited impa.s.sively and Skynx, with a superior respiratory system, checked his carrier cinches to make sure that none of his precious instruments had been damaged.

"You should've snagged a gun," Han puffed, "instead of worrying about that one-man band of yours."

"These have been making music in my family for a dozen generations," Skynx replied indignantly. "And I'm sure I don't know how I could've wrested a weapon away from some malodorous ruffian four times my size."

Han gave up the argument and checked the nearby rooftops. "Can anybody spot a ladder or staircase? We have to see if they're trailing us."

"Now I can be of help there, I believe," Skynx announced. A nearby pole supported fiber-optic cables for intown communications; wrapping himself around it, Skynx spiraled up the pole, protecting his instruments carefully. Since all the buildings were one-story affairs, he had a good view of the surrounding area.

Having reconnoitered, Skynx corkscrewed his way down the pole again. "There are search parties working their way down through town," he told them. "They have hand-held spotlights; I a.s.sume them to be using comlinks." He tried to hide his fearful quaking.

"Did you see their ship?" Han asked eagerly. "It must be around here somewhere. Perhaps we could pick up some fire power there."

But Skynx hadn't spotted it. They decided to try to skirt the search parties' pattern and see if they couldn't get back to the Millennium Falcon. Skynx's feathery antennae wavered in the air, attentive to vibrations. "Captain, I hear something."

They all held their breath and listened. A rumbling swelled until it shook the ground. "Looks like J'uoch got through on the comlink," observed Badure over the tumult. An enormous vessel mounted with heavy guns was hovering above the landing area, its floodlights playing over the city. The fugitives pressed backs into the shadows.

The ponderous lighter couldn't hover and search for long; instead she descended. "There'll be more manpower onboard her," Badure warned. "Skynx, shinny up and take a look. Be careful."

The Ruurian went up a nearby line-pole and was down again almost at once. "The big ship must have dropped off parties down in the lakeside area," he told them urgently. "I saw them spreading out, coming up the hill. And there's a group of three coming down this way from above. One of them is carrying Chewbacca's bowcaster."

The Wookiee growled ominously. Han agreed, "Let's take care of them, but good." No one mentioned surrender; it was plain J'uoch would do anything to get what she wanted.

The search party flashed hand-held spots into alleys and doorways. Teams were being organized to scour the rooftops; virtually every trustworthy being who could be spared from the mining camp had been armed and brought to the scene.

The man leading this particular party, the man whose carbine Han had appropriated, carried Chewbacca's bowcaster and had tucked Han's blaster into his belt. He had seen a Wookiee bowcaster used in the holo-thrillers and was determined to get even with the two by downing them with their own weapons. He was delighted, therefore, to see a looming, s.h.a.ggy shape step out of the darkness before him.

Blocking his companions in the process, the man with the bowcaster took a stance and fired. But Chewbacca ducked at the last instant, knowing that the man's unfamiliarity with the feel and aiming characteristics of the bowcaster would cause a first-round miss. In a flash the Wookiee hurled himself forward.

The man gave the bowcaster's foregrip a yank to rec.o.c.k it and strip another round off the magazine for a second shot. But he got nowhere; the weapon's mechanism was set for a Wookiee's brawn and length of arm. Before he could cast it aside and pull out Han's blaster, a mountain of angry brown fur descended upon him.

The other two searchers fanned out to either side. One was felled immediately as Han Solo stepped out of the shadows and knocked him out with a swipe of the carbine's b.u.t.t. The other was stunned by masonry brickbats flung by Hasti and Badure.

Han adroitly s.n.a.t.c.hed his victim's pistol and fired at the brickbat-stunned searcher. Yelling, the man clenched his calf and fell. Meanwhile Chewbacca had separated his man from the bowcaster and thrown him against a wall. The man crashed with an impressive thud and slid to the ground.

"You'll live," Han decided, toeing over the man he had shot and waving his recaptured blaster, "if you make some worthwhile conversation. How many guards on my ship?"

The man licked his fear-parched lips. "Ten, maybe twelve. A few actually onboard, the rest around her."

"What about the ship you came in?" Hasti asked their captive. "The first one, not that big lighter."

Han slightly depressed the blaster trigger.

The man gasped. "Backslope of town, below the landing area, in the rocks."

Badure came up, having collected the comlink dropped by the bowcaster thief. "Sonny boy, you just bought yourself a future." Then he told them that J'uoch's s.p.a.ceboat was grounded on an expanse of flat stone, with only two men guarding her. "I've grown to dislike unnecessary killing," Badure explained, setting an appropriated stun-gun for maximum dispersal. He squeezed the trigger, and blue rings of energy leaped outward. Immediately the two guards collapsed. Badure and Hasti patted them down for whatever weapons or equipment they might have, then Han climbed into the boat and moved to the pilot's seat. "Fueled and ready!"

Chewbacca, examining the copilot's side of the board, woofed a question.

"No. We won't leave Dellalt without the Falcon; we couldn't get out of the system with this baby carriage anyway," Han replied. "We'll jump out of their search locus, then work out our next move." He began throwing switches and punching instructions into the flight computer.

A warning sounded and the board lit up. Chewbacca threw his head back and yeowled his frustration. From the console rang J'uoch's voice: "Attention, landing boat, attention! Why are you attempting to violate instrument lock? Guard detail, answer!"

"I need tools; they've got the board locked down," Han said urgently. Chewbacca dug long fingers around the edges of the utility locker's door and ripped it away. Han was busy unfastening the console's housing latches. The Wookiee grabbed some implements from the locker and handed them to Han, and soon the partners were attacking the lockdown mechanism, ignoring J'uoch's vehement transmissions that crackled in the background.

Chewbacca howled in triumph, neutralizing one security circuit. "Got the other," Han crowed. But their elation disappeared as they heard the thunder of ma.s.s-lift thrusters.

"She's coming after us in the lighter!" Hasti yelled from the hatchway. "How soon can we lift off?"

"She's too close with those heavy cannons," Han rasped. "But at least we'll have a diversion. Get clear!"

The others ran for it. There was a chart readout on the console; Han slipped it into his vest and, with one foot out the hatch, inserted a series of instructions into the console. Automatic sequence cycled the hatch shut, and the boat lifted off.

Han hurdled a rock and crouched in its shelter with the others, and they watched the s.p.a.ceboat rise into the night sky. The lighter was already on a close interception course; it seemed to Han a good time to get as far as possible from the liftoff site. Having distracted those on the lighter, the fugitives moved off in a ragged line. Chewbacca kept rearguard and, wielding a clump of dry red shrubbery, eradicated the few prints they'd left on the rocky terrain.

The s.p.a.ceboat picked up speed, following Han's programming. The lighter's heavy artillery spoke, and tremendous spears of green-white energy made a brief noon in the Dellaltian night. The first salvo missed but gave the gunners their registration. The second hit dead center, several beams converging on the small boat at once. It exploded in a fireball, leaving a few sc.r.a.ps of burning wreckage to flutter from the sky.

"Capturing us wasn't such a big priority after all," Badure observed.

They had barely reached the temporary shelter of a rocky outcropping and hidden themselves among the boulders when the lighter returned with a rumble of brute thrusters and settled in where the boat had lifted. In moments the area was swarming with armed searchers sweeping hand-held spots. The stunned guards were quickly discovered, the ground examined.

"They're buying it!" Hasti whispered with muted elation. The searchers noted the prints left by Han and the others when they had approached the boat but missed any sign of departure, thanks to Chewbacca's painstaking work. The dozing guards were lugged aboard the lighter and the rest of J'uoch's employees embarked. Thrusters flared again.

Han's mind was racing. Now that they were armed and J'uoch apparently believed them dead, they had a chance of retaking the Millennium Falcon. Han expected to see the lighter land next to his own ship, to take away the guards...o...b..ard. Instead, the larger vessel hovered above the freighter. The Falcon's ramp was up, her ramp-bay doors closed. Han suddenly understood what was happening.

He threw himself forward at a flat-out run, bellowing at the top of his lungs, with Chewbacca only a step behind. No one on either ship heard them, of course; the lighter, its hoisting gear making loud contact with the freighter's upper hull and achieving tractor-lock on the smaller ship, lowered her mechanical support booms. In the same manner as she transported mining equipment, the lighter lifted off with the Millennium Falcon tucked up tightly to her underside.

The lighter veered south, gathering speed and alt.i.tude as she went. Han slowed to a stop. In despair he and Chewbacca watched their ship being borne away across the lake and over the mountains beyond. The others caught up.

"They think the log-recorder disk is...o...b..ard, isn't that it, Captain?" Skynx asked, somewhat in shock. "They searched us and didn't find it and tried to kill us, so they must a.s.sume we left it onboard the Falcon."

"Where are they headed?" Han asked tonelessly.

"Straight for the mining camp," Badure answered. "They'll have all the time and privacy they need to tear-to search her thoroughly."

Han pivoted on his heel and walked off toward town. A drizzle was starting.

"Where are you going? Where are we going?" Skynx yelped as the others hurried after.

"I want my ship back," said Han simply.

VIII.

"IT'S a lamebrained scheme, even for you," Hasti was saying. Han peered into the grayness and wished Badure would return.

The drizzle had become a freezing-cold downpour during the night, then slackened to a drizzle again. Han and the others, awaiting the old man, had taken shelter under a tarp behind piles of cargo in a broad-eaved wooden warehouse by the docks. They were sipping sparingly from the flask, which had remained clipped to Han's gunbelt throughout the night's action.

They were damp, bedraggled, and miserable. Han's hair was plastered flat against his skull, as was Hasti's. Drops fell from Skynx's matted wool, and Chewbacca's pelt had started exuding the peculiar odor of a wet Wookiee. Han reached out and patted his friend's head in a gesture of consolation, wishing there were something he could do for Bollux and Max. The two automata, abiding patiently, were worried that their moisture-proofing would fail.

"You haven't got a prayer of pulling this off, Solo," the girl finished.

He swiped a damp strand of hair off his forehead. "Then don't come along. There'll be another ship through here any year now."

A man in a shabby cloak appeared, splashing through the puddles, bearing a bundle on his shoulder. Han, his blaster's scope set for night shooting, identified Badure. The old man crouched with them under the tarp. Having acquired a cloak from an alley-sleeper, he had contrived to buy four more. Han and Hasti found that two fit them pa.s.sably well and even Bollux could don one stiffly, unaccustomed as he was to the extraordinary feel of clothing. But the biggest cloak Badure had brought could barely contain Chewbacca; though its hood managed to cover his face from casual observation, his s.h.a.ggy arms and legs stuck out.

"Maybe we could wrap him in bunting, like mittens and leggings," Badure suggested, then turned to Skynx. "I didn't forget you, my dear Professor." With a flourish he produced a shoulder bag, which he held open invitingly.

Skynx shrank back, antennae wobbling in dismay. "Surely you can't mean.... This is unacceptable!"

"Just until we're out of town," Han coaxed.

"Um, about that, son," Badure said, "maybe we should lie low awhile instead."

"Do what you feel like; this could be a bad hike. But they're probably tearing the Falcon apart at that mining camp."

"Then what's the point in going?" Hasti remonstrated. "It's a couple of hundred kilometers. Your ship'll be in pieces."

"Then I'll put her back together again!" he near-hollered, then calmed. "Besides, how did J'uoch and company show up so fast, unless she's got contacts here? We'd be sitting targets, not even to mention the average citizen's dislike of offworlders. We could end up bunking in the local slams."

Badure looked resigned. "Then it's the Heel-and-Toe Express for us."

The rain was letting up, the sky lightening. Han studied the chart readout he had picked up. It turned out to contain a complete survey map of the planet, dated but in exacting detail. "At least we had the good luck to get this."

Hasti sniffed. "You s.p.a.cers and mariners and aviators are all alike: no religion, but plenty of superst.i.tion. Always ready to invoke luck."

To forestall another verbal skirmish, Badure jumped in. "The first thing is to get across the lake; there are no connections south on this side. No air service anywhere, but there's some ground transport over there somewhere. The only way across is a ferry service run by the natives, the Swimmers. They're jealous of their territory and they charge a fee."

Han wasn't sure he wanted to be transported by one of the sauropteroids, the Swimming People of Dellalt. "We could hike around the lake," he proposed.

"It would take us five or six extra days unless we could negotiate a vehicle or get our hands on some riding animals."

"Let's check the ferry. What about food and equipment?"

Badure looked askance. "What about lovely ladies and hot food? There'll be settlements along the way; we'll have to improvise." He blew his breath out, and it crystallized.

"Are you coming or staying?" Han asked Hasti.

She gave him a scalding glare. "Why bother asking? You'll lean on people until there's no choice left."

The moderately safe and comfortable adventure envisioned by Skynx had become a very real struggle for survival, but this Ruurian practicality made his decision simple. "I believe I'll remain with you, Captain," he said. Han almost laughed, but Skynx's simple tone of pragmatism and self-preservation lifted his opinion of the Ruurian a notch.

"Glad to have you. All right; down to the docks and across the lake."

Skynx crawled unwillingly into the bag, which Chewbacca then shouldered. They proceeded in a tight group, with Badure in the lead and Hasti and Han on the flanks. The Wookiee and Bollux kept to the middle of the group in hopes that in the poor light and rain they would be mistaken for humans, one extremely tall, the other barrel-chested.

Skynx poked his head out of the bag, feathery antennae thrashing. "Captain, it swells awful in here, and it's cramped." Han pushed him back down, then as an afterthought gave him the flask.

The docks and their moored embarkation floats were already busy. Leaving the others in the partial concealment of stacks of cargo, Han and Badure went to inquire about pa.s.sage.

Though the docks had s.p.a.ce for many of the tow-rafts used by Dellalt's native sauropteroids, only the middle area seemed busy. Then, scanning the scene, Han saw one lonely raft off to the right. Though Badure had briefly described the Swimmers, Han still found them a startling sight.

Men were loading cargo aboard the tow-rafts, which were tied at the embarkation floats. Tow-lines and harnesses bobbed as the rafts waited in the water. Beyond them lazed twenty or so sauropteroids, circling or treading water with flipper strokes of immense power. They ranged from ten to fifteen meters in length, their heads held high from the water on long muscular necks as they moved in the lake. Their hides varied from a light gray to a deep green-black; lacking nostrils, they had blowholes at the tops of their long skulls. They idled, waiting for the men ash.o.r.e to complete the manual labor.

One of the men, a burly individual with a jeweled ring in one ear and bits of food and droplets of breakfast nectar in his beard, was checking cargo against a manifest. As Badure explained their needs, he listened, playing with his stylus.

"You will have to talk money with the Top Bull," he informed them with a smirk Han didn't like, then called out: "Ho, Kasarax! Two seeking pa.s.sage here!" He returned to his work as if the two men no longer existed.

Han and Badure went to the dock's edge and stepped onto an embarkation float. A sauropteroid approached with a few beats of his flippers. Han surrept.i.tiously moved his hand closer to his concealed blaster. He was ill at ease at seeing Kasarax's size and his hard, narrow head with its fangs longer than a man's forearm.

Kasarax trod water next to the float. When he spoke, the blast of sound and fishy breath made both men fall back a bit. His p.r.o.nunciation was distorted but intelligible. "Pa.s.sage is forty driit," the creature announced, a hefty sum in Dellaltian currency, "each. And don't bother haggling; we don't fancy that down here at the docks." Kasarax blew a spout of condensing moisture out the blowhole in his head to punctuate the statement.

"What about the others?" Han murmured to Badure, indicating the rest of the sauropteroid pack.

But Kasarax caught Han's query and hissed like a pressure valve. "They do as I say! And I say you cross for forty driit!" He feinted, as if he were going to strike, a snakish movement that rocked the float with turbulence. Han and Badure scrambled onto the dock as the men there guffawed.

The man with the manifest approached. "I'm chief of Kasarax's sh.o.r.e gang; you may pay me."

Han, red in the face, was growing more furious by the moment at this high-handed treatment. But Badure, glancing toward the lone raft they had noticed earlier, asked, "What about him?"

A lone Swimmer was down there, a big, battle-torn old bull, watching events silently. The sh.o.r.e-gang chief forgot his laughter. "If you enjoy living, ignore him. Only Kasarax's pack plies this part of the lake!"