Star Wars - Han Solo Trilogy Bo
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Winners and Losers,
Han Solo leaned forward in the pilot’s seat of the Way-ward Girl.
“Entering atmosphere, Captain,” he said. He watched the system’s
big, pale sun slip into the great curve of ruddy light at the world’s
edge and disap-pear behind the planet’s limb. Bespin’s huge, dark
nightside loomed up to blot out the stars. Hah checked his sensors.
“They say Bespin’s got some big flyin’-or should I say, floatin’-
creatures in its atmosphere, so keep those forward shields at maximum
strength.”
One-handed, his co-pilot made an adjustment. “What’s our ETA to
Cloud City, Hah?” she asked, a hint of strain in her voice.
“Not long now,” Han replied reassuringly, as the Girl sliced into the
upper atmosphere, swooping over the planet’s dark pole, lightning far
below making ia flickering fog of dim light. “ETA twenty-six minutes.
We ought to be in Cloud City in time to catch a late dinner.”
“The sooner the better,” she commented, grimacing as she flexed her
right arm in its pressure-sling. “This thing itches like fury.”
“Just hang on, Jadonna,” Han said. “We’ll get you straight to the
reed-facility.”
She nodded. “Hey, Han, no complaints from me. You’ve done great.
I’ll just be glad to get this arm into bacta.”
Han shook his head. “Ripped cartilage and liga-ments... that’s gotta
hurt,” he said. “But Cloud City’s sure to have adequate meds.”
She nodded. “Oh, they do. It’s quite a place, Han.
You’ll see.”
Jadonna Ve10z was a short, stocky, dark-skinned woman with long,
straight black hair. Han had met her two days ago, after she’d
advertised from Alderaan on the spacer-nets for a pilot to fly her
ship to Bespin. Veloz’s arm had been injured when it was struck by a
malfunctioning anti-grav loader, but, determined to meet her tight
shipping deadline, she’d postponed real treatment until she delivered
her cargo.
After paying Han’s passage from CoreIlia on a fast shuttle to
Alderaan, he’d taken over as pilot, and brought them to Bespin right
on schedule.
The Wayward Girl was through the wispy exosphere now, and plunging
deeper, moving toward the evening twilight, blue sky building above
them. Han altered course, heading southwest, toward where the setting
sun must be. As they streaked ‘along, the tops of the piled, puffy
masses of clouds far below began taking on colors, deep crimson and
coral, then yellow-orange.
Han Solo had his own reasons for needing a ride to Bespin. If it
hadn’t been for Jadonna’s ad on the nets, he’d have had to dip into
his rapidly dwindling stash of credits to buy passage for himself on
a commercial vessel.
Velozs accident couldn’t have come at a better time, far as Han was
concerned. With the credits she’d prom-ised him, he’d be able to
afford a cheap room and a few meals during the big sabacc tournament.
The buy-in alone was a staggering ten thousand credits. Han had
barely managed to scrape those credits together by fencing the small
golden palador figurine he’d stolen from the Ylesian High Priest
Teroenza, plus the dragon pearl he’d discovered in Admiral Greelanx~
office.
The Corellian wished for a moment that Chewie was here with him, but
he’d had to leave the Wookiee be-hind in their little flat on Nar
Shaddaa because he couldn’t afford to buy his passage.
They were deep into the atmosphere now, and Han could actually see
Bespin’s sun, a squashed looking or-ange ball just clearing a massive
bank of clouds. The Girl was surrounded by a golden glory of heaped
clouds-as golden as Han Solo’s dreams of wealth.
Han was staking everything on this big gamble . . . and he’d always
been lucky at sabacc. But would luck be enough to let him win? He’d
be playing against profes-sional gamblers like Lando.
The Corellian swallowed, then resolutely concen-trated on his
piloting. This was no time to get an attack of nerves. Hah made
another adjustment to the Girl~ approach vector, thinking that he
ought to be within range of Cloud City traffic control any time now.
As if in answer to his thoughts, a voice spoke up from his comm.
“Incoming vessel, please identify yourself.”
Jadonna Veloz reached left-handed to activate their comm. “Cloud City
traffic control, this is the Wayward Girl out of Alderaan. Our
approach vector is . . .” she glanced at Han’s instruments and reeled
off a string of numbers.
“Wayward Girl, we confirm your vector. Cloud City is your
destination?”
“That’s an affirmative, traffic control,” Jadonna said. Han grinned.
From what he’d heard, Cloud City was about ‘all there was to Bespin.
There were the mining facilities, of course, and gas refining,
storage and ship-ping facilities, but more than half of ‘all incoming
traffic was probably bound for the luxurious resort hotels. In the
past few years, bored tourists had made the city in the clouds one of
their favorite vacation playgrounds.
“Traffic control,” Jadonna continued, “we have a pri-ority shipment
for the Yarith Bespin kitchens. Neff tenderloins in stasis. Request a
landing vector.”
“Permission granted, Wayward Girl,” came the voice of the traffic
controller. The controller% voice took on a more inform’a] note.
“Nerf steaks, eh? I’ll have to take. my wif~ out this week. She’s
been wanting some-thing fancy, and that~ a treat we don’t get too
often.”
“These are prime cuts, traffic control,” Veloz said.
“Hope the chef at the Yarith Bespin appreciates them.”
“Oh, he~ good,” the voice said, then the controller reverted to his
official tones. “Wayward Girl, I have you slotted in at Level 65,
Docking Bay 7A. Repeat. Level 65, 7A. Do you copy?”
“We copy, Cloud City Controller.”
“And your assigned landing vector is . . .” the voice hesitated, then
gave them more coordinates.
Han punched them into the navieomputer, then they settled back to
enjoy the ride. He found himself looking forward to seeing the fabled
Cloud City. Bespin itself had already been famous, even before the
resort was built. They mined tibanna gas here, which was used in
starship engines, and in powering blasters.
Han wasn’t sure how they actually mined the gas, but he knew that
tibanna gas was very valuable, so the miners must be doing well.
Before it was discovered in Bespin~ atmosphere, tibanna gas had
usually been found in stellar chromospheres and nebular clusters-
which made harvesting it hazardous, to say the least. Then somebody
had stumbled across the fact that Be-spin% atmosphere was loaded with
it.
Picking up a sudden burst of electrical activity on his sensors, Han
hastily changed course. “Hey-what’s that?” He pointed at the
viewscreen. To their right now, was a monstrous, half-seen shape,
drifting amid those incredible aurulent clouds. The thing was so
large that it would have dwarfed many small Corellian cities.
Jadonna leaned forward. “That’s a beldon!” she ex-claimed. “They’re
really rare. In all the years I’ve been flying through these clouds,
I’ve never seen one.”
Han squinted at the mammoth creature as the Girl streaked by it. The
beldon resembled some of the gelatinous ocean creatures he’d seen on
some worlds, with a huge, dome-like top, and many small feeding
tentacles hanging down beneath it.
Hah checked his landing vector. “Right on the cred-its, Captain,” he
said. Behind them, the leviathan faded into the distance. Han saw
another, smaller shape ‘ahead of them that almost resembled an
upside-down beldon, and realized it was Cloud City.
It hung in the clouds like some kind of exotic wine-glass, topped
with a jeweled crown of rounded towers, domed buildings,
communication spires, and refinery stacks. In the last wash of
sunset, it glowed like a cor-usca gem.
Staying on their approach vector, Han sent them skimming over the
domed buildings of the cityscape in the clouds. Moments later, he
brought the Girl down in a perfect landing on their assigned spot.
After receiving his pay, and saying farewell to Cap-tain Veloz, Han
went looking for a robo-hack to take him to the posh Yarith Bespin
hotel, where the sabacc tournament was being held.
Moments later he was punching in his destination on a keypad, sending
the little robo-hack zipping through the city streets, up and down
levels, traveling at a pace that would have made most humans dizzy-
especially when tile little vehicle “hopped” low-lying buildings,
giving Hah a glimpse of the clouds surrounding them and the yawning
depths below them. It was almost full night now, and the city
sparkled like a lady’s open jewel box.
Minutes later the robo-hack pulled up before the Yarith Bespin. Han
waved the luggage droid aside and ú walked through the massive
entrance. He’d been in posh hotels before, while touring with his
magician friend, Xaverri, so the opulent interior with its spidery,
crisscrossing glidewalks that spanned the stories-high atrium didn’t
phase him. He saw a sign reading “Tour-nament Registration” in at
least 20 languages, and fol-lowed the arrow up the glide-lift to the
mezzanine.
When he stepped off the floating walkway, he headed purposefully
toward the large tables. The place was thronged with gamblers of all
species, sizes and de-scriptions. Hah registered, checked his blaster
(‘all weapons had to be checked), received an ID badge, and a voucher
that he’d cash in as he needed betting chips. The first game would
start tomorrow at midday.
Just as he turned away from the registration area, chip voucher
tucked securely into a pocket inside his shirt, next to his skin, Hah
heard a familiar voice. “Han! Hey, Han! Over here!”
He turned and saw Lando Calrissian waving to him from across the
mezzanine. Waving to show he’d heard, Hah jogged over to the
glidewalk and hopped aboard, even as Lando leaped aboard the one
coming toward Han’s side of the enormous room.
When he’d last seen Lando, the gambler was head-ing off for action in
the Oseon system. But he’d been talking about this tournament for
months, so Han had been expecting to run into him here.
“Hey, Han!” Landog dark features broke into a wide grin as their
respective glidewalks brought them face-to-face. “Long time no see,
you old rascal!”
Hah leaped nimbly across open air from his glide-walk to the one
Lando was standing on. He’d barely landed before Calrissian grabbed
him in a hug that would have done Chewbacca credit. “Good to see you,
Lando!” he gasped, as Calrissian thumped him on the back one final
time.
The friends stepped off the glidewalk back at the registration area,
and stood there a moment, eyeing each other. Han studied his friend,
realizing that Lando looked very prosperous-the gambling tables out
in the Oseon must be loaded with easy marks. The gambler was wearing
an expensive outfit made from Askajian fabric, the best in the
galaxy. A new black and silver cape swung behind him, draped in the
latest fashion.
Han smiled. The last time he’d seen Lando, the gam-bler had barely
begun growing a mustache. Now his fa-cial adornment was mature,
though trimmed. It lent his features a rather piratical air. Han
pointed at it. “I see you decided to keep the lip-fur.”
Lando stroked the mustache proudly. “Every woman I’ve met has been
most complimentary,” he said. “I should have done it long ago.”
“Some people need all the help they can get,” Han teased. “It’s a
shame you don’t have my way with the ladies, old pal.”
Lando snorted derisively.
Han looked around. “So... where’s your little red-eyed droid buddy?
Don’t tell me you went and lost Vuffi Raa in a sabacc game?”
Lando shook his head. “Han, it’s a long story. To tell it properly, I
need a tall glass of something refreshing in front of me.”
“Well, what’s the short version, then?” Han asked. “Don’t tell me
the little guy got tired of calling you ‘Master’ and decided he could
do better selling his Class Two abilities somewhere else?”
Lando shook his head, his expression suddenly seri-ous. “Han, you’re
not going to believe this, but Vuffi Raa decided to go back to his
people and grow up. Ful-fill his destiny.”
Han grimaced. “Huh? He’S a droid. What do you mean, destiny?”
‘Wuffi Raa is . . . was . . . a baby starship. I know it sounds
crazy, but it’s true. He comes from a... unique... species. Gigantic
droid-ships that roam the stars. Sen-tient, but not biologic’d, life-
forms.”
Han stared at his friend. “Lando, you been sniffing ryll? You sound
like you spent the whole day in the bar.”
Lando held up a hand. “It’s the truth, Han. You see,
there was this evil sorcerer named Rokur Gepta, who
turned out to be a Croke, and these vacuumbreathers,
and a big fight in this huge Star Cave, and-“
“Cheater/” A deep, raspy voice shouted, startling the friends. “Get
him! Don’t let him play! That’s Han Solo, and he cheats at sabacc!”
Hah wheeled around to find an enraged Barabel fe-male bearing down on
him. The alien limped slightly from a stiff knee, but she was closing
at a respectable clip, massive teeth bared. Barabels were huge, black
reptiloids, and Han had only met a few of them in his travels. And
only one female.
This femme, as a matter of fact.
Hah gulped and his hand went down to his blaster, only to slap
impotently against his thigh. Damnation/ He began backing up, holding
up his hands placatiugly. “Now, Shallamar...” he began.
Lando, ‘always quick on the uptake, made sure he was nowhere near the
Barabel’s approach vector. “Secu-rity!” he shouted. “We need security
here! Somebody call security!”
The Barabel sputtered and hissed with rage. “He uses skifters!
Cheats! Arrest him!”
Han backed up until he bumped into one of the reg-istration tables,
then, one-handed, he vaulted it. The Barabel’s teeth flashed.
“Coward! Come out from be-hind there! Arrest him!”
“Now, Shallamar,” Hah said. “I beat you fair and square that time.
Holding grudges isn’t very sports-manlike .... “
With a bellow, she rushed him-
only to stop and fall heavily to the floor as a tangle-field encased
her feet. Shallamar thrashed, slapping the carpet with her tail,
cursing and bellowing.
Hah looked over at the hotel security forces, and drew a long breath
of relief.
Ten minutes later, with the Barabel still under re-straints, Han,
Lando and Shallamar were in the security offices, facing the security
chief. Shallamar was sulking, because the chief had sensor-scanned
Han from the tips of his toes to the top of his head, and the
Corellian had proved to be absolutely free of any cheating devices.
Now the Barabel hunkered uncomfortably, her feet still restrained in
the tangle-field, as the security chief warned her that any further
displays would get her ejected from the competition. “... and I think
you owe Solo here an apology,” the chief concluded.
Shallamar snarled . . . but softly. “I will not molest him further.
You have my honor-word,” “But-“ the security chief started.
Han waved a hand at him. “Let’s not push it, sir. If Shallamar leaves
me alone, that’s fine with me. I’m just glad to prove that I’m an
honest player.”
The chief shrugged. “Whatever you say, Solo: Okay, you two are free
to go.” He glanced at Han and Lando. “I’ll release the tangle-field
and turn her loose in a cou-ple of minutes.” He turned back to the
Barabel. “And you, my lady, will be under surveillance. Please keep
that in mind. We’re running a tournament here, not a free-for-all. Is
that clear?” “Clear,” she rasped.
Han and Lando left the office. Han didn’t say any-thing, but he knew
Lando too well to think that his friend would let this pass. Sure
enough, when they stepped onto the glidewalk leading to the cafe,
Lando grinned broadly. “Han, Hah... yet another old flame, eh? You’re
so right... you certainly have a way with the ladies, you old rogue!”
Hah bared his teeth in a snarl nearly as fearsome as Shallamar’s.
“Shut up, Lando. Just... shut up.”
By then, Lando was laughing too hard to speak anyway...
It took the two friends several hours to catch up on events. Han
heard the whole story of Lando% adven-tures in the Oseon system. He
discovered that since he’d last seen his friend, Lando had won and
lost sev-eral fortunes, most recently a cargo of gemstones. “You
should have seen them, Han,” Lando said, mournfully. “They were
gorgeous. Filled half the Falcon’s cargo bay. If only I’d hung onto
them, instead of using most of them to buy half of that dratted
berubian mine!”
Hah looked at his friend with mingled sympathy and exasperation.
“Salted, right? Proved to be worthless.” “You got it. How did you
know?”
“I knew somebody once who ran that scare. Only it was a duralloy
asteroid.” Han neglected to mention that he’d once lost out on a
half-million-credit uranium mine that he’d won in a sabacc game. The
mine had been genuine, but the books had been so cooked that he’d
been lucky to escape prosecution when the stock-holders began their
investigation ....
But all that was in the past, and Han Solo made it a policy never to
indulge in regrets over failed ventures.
“Speaking of the Falcon,” he said, “where’ve you got her docked?”
“Oh, she’s not here,” Lando said. “I left her back at the lot on Nar
Shaddaa. Half the trick to winning big at the ta-bles is being able
to psych your opponents out, presenting yourself as someone who can
‘afford to play big, win big and lose big. Makes bluffing much more
effective .... “
“I’ll remember that,” Han said, filing away the ad-vice. “So, how’d
you get here?”
“I came in on one of those big luxury liners, the Queen of Empire,”
Lando said. “Arrived in style. Not to mention that the ship’s casino
is one of the finest I’ve encountered. The Queen and I go way back.”
Hah smiled slyly. “I ran into Blue a few weeks ago, and she told me
that you were traveling in style aboard that new ship of Drea
Renthal’s. Renthal} Vigilance, that Carrack-class picket ship she
salvaged after the Battle of Nar Shaddaa.”
Lando cleared his throat. “Drea’s a great lady,” he said. “For a
pirate, she~ surprisingly... refined.”
Han snickered. “Whoa, Lando! Isn’t she a little old for you? She~
gotta be at least forty! How’d you like bein’ a pirate queen~
favorite plaything?”
Lando bristled. “I wasn’t... She~ not...”
Hah laughed. “Almost old enough to be your mother, huh?”
Lando’s teeth flashed beneath his mustache. “Hardly. And Hah . . .
my mother was nothing like Drea. Trust me.”
“So why’d you break up?” Han wanted to know.
“Life aboard a pirate vessel is... interesting,” Lando said. “But a
little too... coarse... for my taste.”
Han, eyeing his friend~ dandified clothes, nodded.
“I’ll bet.”
Lando sobered. “But, hey . . . Drea and I parted friends,” he added.
“These last few months I needed... I was...” he shrugged, obviously
uncomfortable. “Well, Drea came along at a good time. I was... Well,
it was nice having the company.”
Han eyed his friend. “You mean you missed Vuffi Raa?”
“Well . . . how can you miss a droid? But . . . you know, Hah, he was
really a companion. There were times I didn’t even think of him as
mechanical. I’d gotten used to having the little guy around, you
know? So when the little vacuum cleaner went off with his kinfolk, I
did find myself actually... missing him.”
Han thought about what it would be like to lose Chewie, and could
only nod in silent agreement.
The two sat quietly for a moment, sipping their drinks, enjoying the
companionship. Finally Hah fought back a yawn, and stood up. “Gotta
get some sleep,” he said. “Tomorrow’s going to be a big day.”
“See you at the tables,” Lando said, and they parted.
Sabacc is an ancient game, dating back to the early days of the Old
Republic. Of all the games of chance, sabacc is the most complex, the
most unpredictable, the most thrilling-and the most heartbreaking.
The game is played with a deck of seventy-six card-chips. The value
of any card-chip can alter throughout the game at random intervals,
via electronic impulses transmitted by the “randomizer.” In less than
a second, a winning hand can change to a “bomb out.”
There are four suits in the deck: sabers, staves, flasks and coins.
Numbered cards range from positive one to positive eleven, and there
are four cards of “rank:” the Commander, the Mistress, the Master and
the Ace, with numerical values of positive twelve to fifteen.
Sixteen face cards complete the deck, two of each type, with assorted
zero or negative values: the Idiot, the Queen of Air and Darkness,
Endurance, Balance, Demise, Moderation, the Evil One and the Star.
There are two different pots. The first, the hand pot, is awarded to
the winner of each hand. In order to win the hand pot, a player must
have the highest card total that is less than or equal to twenty-
three-either positive or negative. In case of a tie, positive card
value beat negative card value.
The other pot, the sabacc pot, is the “game” pot, and can only be won
in two ways-with a pure sabacc-that is, card-chips totaling exactly
twenty-three, or an idiot~ array, consisting of one of the Idiot face
cards, plus a two, and a three-literally, 23--of any suit.
In the center of the table is an interference field. As the rounds of
bluffing and betting proceed, sabace play-ers can “freeze” the value
of a card by placing it into the interference field.
The Cloud City Sabacc Tournament had attracted over one hundred high-
rollers from worlds ‘all over the galaxy. Rodians, Twi’leks,
Sullustans, Bothans, Devaro-nians, humans... all these and more were
represented at the gaming tables. The tournament would last for four
intensive days of play. Each day, roughly half of the players would
be eliminated. The number of tables would dwindle, until only one
table remained, where the best of the best would compete during that
last hand.
Stakes were high. Winners stood a good chance of walking away with
two or three times the ten-thousand-credit buy-in-or even more.
Sabacc was not traditionally a spectator sport the way mag-ball or
null-gee polo was, but, since only players were ‘allowed in the
tournament hall, the hotel had arranged a huge holo-projection lounge
for those who wished to watch the tournament. Companions of play-ers,
hangers-on, eliminated players and other interested sentients
wandered in and out of the lounge, keeping an eye on the tournament,
silently rooting for his, her or its favorite to win.
There was a ranking list displayed beside the holo, IDing the
players, and showing the progress of the play. On this, the second
day of the tournament, about fifty players clustered around ten
tables. The ranking beside their names showed that Han Solo had made
it through the first day of play on luck and by the skin of his
teeth. He’d lost the sabacc pot, but had won enough hand pots so
that he was still a contender.
One of the onlookers in the lounge was rooting for Hah to win, though
the Corellian had no idea She was anywhere within parsecs of Bespin-
and, if Bria Tharen had anything to say about it, he wouldn’t find
out. In her years of working with the Corellian resis-tance, Bria had
become an expert at disguise. Now her long, red-gold hair was hidden
beneath a short black wig, her blue-green eyes covered by bio-lenses
that turned them as dark as her hair. Carefully inserted padding in
her elegant business outfit made her look voluptuous and muscled
instead of slender and wiry. The only thing she couldn’t disguise
was her height- and there were many tall human women.
She stood at the back of the lounge, watching the holo intently,
hoping for another close-up of Han. Silently, she rejoiced that he’d
made it this far. If only he’d win, she thought. Han deserves a big
break. If he had a lot of credits, he wouldn’t have to risk his life
as a smuggler. . . .
For a moment, the holo showed a close-up of Han~ table. Bria saw that
his opponents today were a Sullus-tan, a Twi’lek, a Bothan and two
humans, one male and one female. The woman was evidently from a
heavy-gee planet, judging from the thick, corded muscles in her neck,
and her short, stocky build.
Bria knew little about sabacc, but she knew Han Solo-even after being
separated from him for seven years now, she knew him. She knew every
line of his face, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he
smiled, or narrowed when he was angry or suspicious. The shaggy
tufts of his hair, perennially overdue for a haircut. She could still
recall the shape of his hands, the fine hairs on the backs of them
....
Bria knew Han Solo so well that she realized she could still tell
when he was bluffing... as he was at the moment.
Smiling confidently, Han leaned across the table to push another heap
of chips into the center. Seeing the size of his bet, the Sullustan
hesitated, then threw in her hand. The two humans also folded, but
the Bothan was made of sterner stuff. He met Han~ bet, and then,
ostentatiously, raised it by a goodly amount.
Bria’s expression didn’t change, but her hands curled into fists at
her sides. Will he fold, or play the hand through and hope his bluff
will work?
The Twi’lek pushed another card-chip into the inter-ference field,
and matched the bet. All eyes turned to Hah.
The Corellian grinned as though he hadn’t a care in the world. Bria
could see his lips move as he issued some verbal challenge or
wisecrack, then he pushed forward another stack of credit-chips . . .
such a huge bet that Bria bit her lip. If he lost his hand, he’d bomb
out. There was no way he could cover it!
The Bothan glanced from side to side, for the first time seeming
uncertain. Finally, he tossed in his hand. The Twi’lek~ head-tails
twitched with frustration and nerves.
Finally, slowly, the Twi’lek laid his hand down. Han’s grin
broadened, and he reached forward to scoop up yet another hand pot.
Did he genuinely have a winning hand, Bria wondered, or was I right?
Was it all a bluff?
The Sullustan, her droopy jowls working, made a sudden grab for Han’s
card-chips, but the dealer spoke up, clearly warning her against such
an action. By now the dealer would have signaled for a change in the
card-chip values, anyway.
Bria nodded emphatically at the holo. Great! Keep it up, Han! Beat
them! Win!
Beside her, someone snarled, then spoke in raspy, hissing tones, “May
all the Blights of Barabel curse that villain Solo! He wins again! He
must be cheating!”
Bria glanced out of the corner of her eye and saw a huge Barabel
female, obviously a very irritated Barabel. The corners of her mouth
twitched. Han has such a way with people . . . what do you suppose he
did to make her so mad?
Something rustled on Bria’s other side, and she turned to find her
aide, a Corellian named Jace Paol, beside her. The man lowered his
voice until even Bria could barely hear him, though his mouth was
barely a handspan from her ear. “Commander, the representa-tives from
Alderaan have arrived. They are on their way to the meeting site.”
Bria nodded. “I’ll be right up, Jace.”
As her aide left the lounge, Bria checked her expen-sive datapad (a
dummy, she committed as little as pos-sible of her real business to
any readable form), smiled vaguely at the Barabel, and left the
lounge. Time to get on with her mission here in Cloud City.
When she’d discovered that Cloud City would be hosting the big sabacc
tournament, Bria had realized that this was the ideal location for a
top-secret meeting between representatives of several of the
rebellions. Resistance groups were growing by leaps and bounds on
many Imperial worlds, and it was essential to estab-lish links
between them. But such meetings had to be kept clandestine. The Imps
had spies everywhere.
Any intelligence operative knew that the easiest place to hide was in
a crowd. And Cloud City was pretty far from the Imperial Core, so the
Imps didn’t pay it much attention. A big tournament provided perfect
cover. With so many ships coming and going, both alien and human, a
few humans, a Sullustan and a Duros meeting in a hotel conference
room on Cloud City would arouse little interest from anyone.
Bria wouldn’t admit even to herself that part of her reason for
selecting Cloud City during the tournament was that she’d hoped to
catch a glimpse of Han Solo. She couldn’t be sure he’d attend, of
course, but know-ing Han, when there was the chance of winning big,
he was there, ready and eager.
As she rode the glidewalk to the nearest turbolift, Bria imagined
removing her disguise, then going to Han’s room late that night. He
would still have vivid memories of the last time he’d seen her, when
she’d been posing as Moff Sam Shild’s mistress, but surely he’d
believe her when she explained-that she’d been spying for the
Corellian resistance, and that there had been nothing between her and
Shild.
So after she’d told him the truth about their last en-counter, they
would talk. Perhaps they’d sip some wine. After a while, they’d hold
hands. And then...
The Rebel operative closed her eyes as the turbolift swept her upward
amid the crystalline and pastel splen-dor of the Yarith Bespin’s
fifty-story atrium. Perhaps, when she’d explained everything, Hah
would want to join the resistance, help his fellow Corellians as they
plotted to free their planet from that tyrant Emperor who held so
many worlds in a death-grip.
Perhaps .... Bria envisioned the two of them, doing battle shoulder
to shoulder on land or in space, fighting bravely, covering each
other’s backs during the battles, i winning victories over the
Imperial forces... then hold- i ing each other close when the day’s
fighting was over. Bria couldn’t imagine anything better than that.
Feeling the turbolift decelerate, she sighed and opened her eyes.
Fantasies were all very well... some-times they were all that kept
her going. But she couldn’t allow them to interfere with her mission.
As the turbolift doors slid open, she was ready. Mov-ing with
confident strides, she exited the lift and headed down the carpeted
corridor.
When she reached the meeting room, she tapped out her coded signal,
and was admitted. She glanced at Jace, and his nod confirmed that
he’d checked the room for surveillance devices and found it safe.
Only then did Bria turn to greet the other members of the conference.
The first representative to step forward was a typi-cally mournful-
faced, blue-skinned Duros, Jennsar So-Billes. He had come alone, as
had Sian Tevv from Sullust. Bria greeted the two aliens warmly,
thanking them and their respective groups for allowing them to make
the dangerous journey-and it was dangerous. just last month one of
the high-ranking Rebel leaders from ‘Fibrin had been captured while
on his way to such a conference. The Ishi Tib was forced to suicide
in or-der to avoid the Imp mind-probes.
Alderaan had sent three representatives, two human and one Caamasi.
The senior member of the delegation was a middle-aged man with
grizzled hair and beard, one Hric Dalhney, Deputy Minister of
Security, and a trusted member of Viceroy Bail Organa’s cabinet. Ac-
companying him was a young girl, not even out of her teens, with
long, crystal-white hair. Dalhney introduced her as “Winter,”
commenting that they were posing as father and daughter as their
“cover” during this trip. The non-human member of the delegation was
a Caa-magi. Bria was intrigued by him, never having met one before.
Their species was now somewhat rare in the galaxy.
Caamas had been essentially destroyed after the Clone Wars, thanks to
the efforts of the Emperor’s min-ion, Darth Vader, but it was a
little-known fact that many of its people had managed to flee to
Alderaan and lived there, mostly in seclusion.
The Caamasi’s name was Ylenic It’kla, and he intro-duced himself as
an advisor to the Viceroy of Alderaan. Tall, even taller than Bria,
the Caamasi wore a single kilt-like garment and jewelry. Generally
humanoid in appearance, Ylenic was covered in golden down, with
purple stripes marking his face. His eyes were large, dark and held a
faint air of calm sadness that touched Bria, knowing what sufferings
this being must have witnessed.
Ylenic said little as the delegates exchanged greet-ings, but
something about him impressed Bria. She re-solved to seek out his
opinions if he did not offer them. The Caamasi had an air of quiet
power, of confidence, that told the Rebel Commander that this was a
being to be reckoned with.
After a few minutes of chitchat, Bria seated herself at the long
table, and formally brought the meeting to or-der. “Fellow Rebels,”
she said, speaking with the quiet authority of someone who had done
this many times be-fore, “I thank you for risking your lives in our
cause. We of the Corellian Rebel movement are contacting other
underground groups like our own, urging all the various Rebel groups
to unite. Only as a strong, cohe-sive group can we have any hope of
confronting the Empire that is strangling our worlds, and killing the
spirit of our peoples.”
Bria took a deep breath. “I know what a daunting and dangerous
proposal this is, believe me. But only if we can unite, form an
alliance, can the Rebel groups have any hope of eventual victory. As
long as we remain fragmented, planet-bound groups, we are doomed to
failure.”
She paused. “The Corellian movement has long con-sidered this
proposal. We are fully aware what a radical change this would entail-
and how difficult such an al-liance would be. As long as we are
individual groups, the Empire cannot wipe us all at one blow. If we
were to unite, they might conceivably be able to destroy all of us in
one battle. We also know how taxing it can be for different species
to work together. Disparate ethical and moral systems, ideologies,
religions-not to men-tion equipment and weapon design differences-all
of these things can present problems.”
Bria faced her onlookers steadily. “But, my friends, unite we must.
Somehow we must find ways to work around our differences. Surely we
can do that... and that’s the subject of this conference.”
The Duros representative tapped his fingers on the table. “Your words
are stirring, Commander. In spirit, I agree with them. But let us
face facts here. In asking the non-human worlds to ally with you, you
are asking us to put ourselves at far greater risk. Everyone knows
the Emperor’s disdain for non-humans. If an alliance challenged
Palpatine’s forces, and lost, the Emperor’s wrath would be mostly
directed at the non-human worlds. He might well destroy us as a
lesson to the hu-man Rebels.”
Bria nodded. “Your point is well taken, Jennsar.” She glanced around
the table. “Minister Dalhney, what are your thoughts?”
“We of Alderaan have supported the Rebel move-ment from the
beginning,” the man said. “We have pro-vided intelligence, funding,
and technical expertise. But this talk of battles is anathema to us.
Alderaanian cul-ture is built on the absence of weapons and violence.
We are a peaceful world, and the way of the warrior is abhorrent to
us. Count on us to support your efforts- but I cannot imagine that we
would ever be able to join you as combatants.”
Bria gazed at Dahlney somberly. “It is possible, Min-ister,” she
said, “that Alderaan may not have the option to refrain from
violence.” She turned to the little Sullus-tan. “Sian Tevv, what are
your initial thoughts?”
“Commander, my people are so crushed beneath the heel of the Empire
that few of them have the where-withal to plot any kind of
rebellion.” The little allen’s jowls quivered, and his dark, liquid
eyes were sorrow-ful. “Though many complain about the Imperi’dl
troops under their breaths, only a handful of my people have ever
dared to openly resist. Our caves are places of fear. The Soro Suub
Corporation essentially controls my world, and their biggest client
is the Empire. If we were to join a Rebel Alliance, it would cause
civil war!”
Bria sighed. Itg’ going to be a long conference, she thought bleakly.
“I recognize that all of you have valid concerns~” she said, keeping
her voice level and neutral. “But it won’t hurt anything, or commit
you to anything, simply to discuss these issues, right?”
After a moment, the delegates from the three worlds agreed to talk.
Taking a deep breath, Bria started in ....
I can’t believe I’ve made it this far, Han thought wearily, as he
eased himself into the seat at the one re-maining sabacc table. It
was night on the fourth day of the tournament, and only the finalists
were left. If only my luck holds out a little longer...
Slowly he stretched the kinks out of his back, wishing he could sleep
for about twenty hours. The past few days had been grueling... hours
of unending play, with only a few breaks for meals or sleep.
The other finalists had also taken their places around the table. A
diminutive Chadra-Fan, a Bothan male, and a Rodian female. Han wasn’t
sure whether the Chadra-Fan was a male or a female. Both sexes wore
the same long robes.
As Han glanced around at his fellow players, the last player, another
human, sat down opposite Han in the last empty chair. Hah groaned
inwardly. Somehow I knew this would happen. What chance can I have
against a professional like Lando ?
Han was very conscious of the fact that he was probably the only
“amateur” player at the table. It was a fair bet that the others,
like Lando, made their primary living by winning at sabacc.
For a moment he was tempted to just call it quits, walk away. To lose
now, after all these days of play...
Lando nodded tightly to his friend. Han nodded back.
The dealer approached. In most games of sabacc, the dealer actually
played for credits, but in tourna-ment games, the dealer only dealt
the card-chips and monitored the game... he or she was prohibited
from playing.
The de’der was a Bith. The alien~ large, five fingered hands featured
both an opposable thumb and little fin-ger, giving the dealer
considerable dexterity as he de.tit. The lights of the monstrous
chandelier in the ballroom gleamed on the alien’s large, bare,
cranium.
The dealer ostentatiously opened a fresh pack of card-chips and
riffled them, then triggered the randomizer several times, thus
demonstrating that nobody could predict the order the card-chips
would be dealt. After this initial demonstration, the randomizer
itself altered the values of the card-chips at random intervals.
Han looked over at Lando, and was cheered to note that his friend was
showing signs of strain. Landos natty outfit was creased, and there
were dark circles beneath his eyes. His hair looked as though it
hadn’t been combed ‘all day.
Han knew he was no prize himself. He rubbed his hand blearily across
his face, and only then realized he’d forgotten to shave. Stubble
rasped his fingernails.
Forcing himself to sit up straight, Han picked up his first hand of
card-chips ....
Three and a half hours later, the Bothan and the Ro-djan had been
eliminated. They’d left without a back-ward glance. The Bothan male
had “bombed out”-bet his entire trove of credit-chips on the game.
When Lando took that hand, the alien had stalked away with-out a
farewell. The Rodian female had folded, but she hadn’t bombed. Han
figured that she’d decided to cut her losses and get out while she
still had a profit. The stakes were getting very high. The sabacc pot
alone contained nearly twenty thousand credits.
Hang luck had held. He had enough credit-chips to cover any of the
bets he’d seen tonight. Mentally, he added them up. If he folded now,
he’d leave Bespin with twenty thousand credits, give or take a couple
hun-dred. His eyesight was getting blurry, and the card-chips were
hard to Count when they were in stacks.
The Corellian considered. Twenty thousand was a lot of money. Almost
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WinnersandLosers,HanSololeanedforwardinthepilot’sseatoftheWay-wardGirl.“Enteringatmosphere,Captain,”hesaid.Hewatchedthesystem’sbig,palesunslipintothegreatcurveofruddylightattheworld’sedgeanddisap-pearbehindtheplanet’slimb.Bespin’shuge,darknightsideloomeduptoblotoutthestars.Hahcheckedhissensors.“They...
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