sometimes.” There had been many runs, many deals, jobs, and foul-ups. “How should
I
know?” But his expression hardened, and Badure thought Han had a very good idea who might be seeking him.
* * *
Han stood in the middle of the forward compartment, listening. The tech station and most of the other equipment in the compartment had been shut down to lower the noise level. He could feel the vibrations of the
Millennium Falcon
’s engines. He heard a quiet sound behind him.
Han spun, crouching, in execution of the speedraw, firing from the hip. The target-remote, a small globe that moved on squirts of repulsor power and puffs of forced air, didn’t quite dodge his beam. Its counterfire passed over him. Deactivated by his harmless tracer beam, the orb hung immobile, awaiting another practice sequence.
Han looked over to where Bollux, the labor ’droid, sat; his chest panels were open. Blue Max, the computer module installed in the ’droid’s chest cavity, had been controlling the remote. “I told you I wanted a tougher workout than that thing’s idiot circuitry could give me,” Han reprimanded Blue Max.
Bollux, a gleaming green, barrel-chested automaton, had arms long enough to suggest a simian. The computer, an outrageously expensive package built for maximum capacity, was painted a deep blue, whence came his name. Part of Han’s post-Corporate Sector splurge had included the modification the two mechanicals had requested, because without them he and the Wookiee might never have survived. Bollux now contained a newer and more powerful receiver, and Max had been provided with a compact holo-projector.
“That
was
,” the little module objected. “Can I help it if you’re so flaming fast? I could cut response time to nil, if you want.”
Han sighed. “No. And watch your language, Max; just because I talk like that doesn’t mean you can.” He took the combat charge his weapon usually carried from its case at his belt.
Badure was reclining in one of the acceleration chairs. “You’ve been practicing all through this run. You’re beating the bailie every time. Who’s got you worried?”
Han shrugged, then added as if by afterthought, “Did you ever hear of a gunman called Gallandro?”
Both of Badure’s thick eyebrows rose. “
The
Gallandro? You don’t bother yourself with small-timers, do you, Slick? So that’s it.”
Han looked around. Hasti, at her own and Badure’s insistence, had commandeered Han’s personal quarters—a cramped cubicle—for some secret purpose. Chewbacca was at the controls, but Skynx was present. Han decided it didn’t matter if the Ruurian heard.
“I backed Gallandro down a while back, didn’t even realize who he was. See, he had to let me do it at the time because it was part of a bigger deal he was working. Later on, though, he wanted to settle up.”
Sweat gathered on his forehead with the memory. “He really
moves
; I couldn’t even follow his practice draw. Anyway, I pulled a stunt on him and got out of the mess. I guess I made him look pretty bad, but I never thought he’d go to all this trouble.”
“Gallandro? Slick, you’re talking about the guy who single-handedly hijacked the
Quamar Messenger
on her maiden run and took over that pirate’s nest, Geedon V, all by himself. And he went to the gun against the Malorm family, drawing head bounty on all five of them. And no one has ever beaten the score he rolled up when he was flying a fighter with Marso’s Demons. Besides which, he’s the only man who ever forced the Assassins’ Guild to default on a contract; he personally canceled half of their Elite Circle—one at a time—plus assorted journeymen and apprentices.”
“I know, I know,” Han said wearily, sitting down, “
now
. If I’d known who he was then, I’d have put a few parsecs between us, at least. But what does a character like that want with me?”
Badure spoke as to a slow-witted child. “Han, don’t make someone like
I
know?” But his expression hardened, and Badure thought Han had a very good idea who might be seeking him.
* * *
Han stood in the middle of the forward compartment, listening. The tech station and most of the other equipment in the compartment had been shut down to lower the noise level. He could feel the vibrations of the
Millennium Falcon
’s engines. He heard a quiet sound behind him.
Han spun, crouching, in execution of the speedraw, firing from the hip. The target-remote, a small globe that moved on squirts of repulsor power and puffs of forced air, didn’t quite dodge his beam. Its counterfire passed over him. Deactivated by his harmless tracer beam, the orb hung immobile, awaiting another practice sequence.
Han looked over to where Bollux, the labor ’droid, sat; his chest panels were open. Blue Max, the computer module installed in the ’droid’s chest cavity, had been controlling the remote. “I told you I wanted a tougher workout than that thing’s idiot circuitry could give me,” Han reprimanded Blue Max.
Bollux, a gleaming green, barrel-chested automaton, had arms long enough to suggest a simian. The computer, an outrageously expensive package built for maximum capacity, was painted a deep blue, whence came his name. Part of Han’s post-Corporate Sector splurge had included the modification the two mechanicals had requested, because without them he and the Wookiee might never have survived. Bollux now contained a newer and more powerful receiver, and Max had been provided with a compact holo-projector.
“That
was
,” the little module objected. “Can I help it if you’re so flaming fast? I could cut response time to nil, if you want.”
Han sighed. “No. And watch your language, Max; just because I talk like that doesn’t mean you can.” He took the combat charge his weapon usually carried from its case at his belt.
Badure was reclining in one of the acceleration chairs. “You’ve been practicing all through this run. You’re beating the bailie every time. Who’s got you worried?”
Han shrugged, then added as if by afterthought, “Did you ever hear of a gunman called Gallandro?”
Both of Badure’s thick eyebrows rose. “
The
Gallandro? You don’t bother yourself with small-timers, do you, Slick? So that’s it.”
Han looked around. Hasti, at her own and Badure’s insistence, had commandeered Han’s personal quarters—a cramped cubicle—for some secret purpose. Chewbacca was at the controls, but Skynx was present. Han decided it didn’t matter if the Ruurian heard.
“I backed Gallandro down a while back, didn’t even realize who he was. See, he had to let me do it at the time because it was part of a bigger deal he was working. Later on, though, he wanted to settle up.”
Sweat gathered on his forehead with the memory. “He really
moves
; I couldn’t even follow his practice draw. Anyway, I pulled a stunt on him and got out of the mess. I guess I made him look pretty bad, but I never thought he’d go to all this trouble.”
“Gallandro? Slick, you’re talking about the guy who single-handedly hijacked the
Quamar Messenger
on her maiden run and took over that pirate’s nest, Geedon V, all by himself. And he went to the gun against the Malorm family, drawing head bounty on all five of them. And no one has ever beaten the score he rolled up when he was flying a fighter with Marso’s Demons. Besides which, he’s the only man who ever forced the Assassins’ Guild to default on a contract; he personally canceled half of their Elite Circle—one at a time—plus assorted journeymen and apprentices.”
“I know, I know,” Han said wearily, sitting down, “
now
. If I’d known who he was then, I’d have put a few parsecs between us, at least. But what does a character like that want with me?”
Badure spoke as to a slow-witted child. “Han, don’t make someone like
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