Star Wars: The Han Solo Trilogy I: The Paradise Snare by A.C. Crispin Page B

speeder racing was life and breath to him, and he got to practice every day.
    He disliked these con operations because he always wound up caring about some of the kids he was ordered to befriend, and all the while he knew they and their families would be irrevocably injured by Shrike’s scheme.
    Mostly, Han managed to stifle any guilt feelings he felt. He was becoming good at putting himself first. Other people—with the sole exception of Dewlanna—had to come second or not at all. It was self-preservation, and Han was very, very good at that.
    I still am
, Han thought as he got up from the deck of the
Ylesian Dream
and went to check on their course and speed. The young Corellian smiled and nodded as he read the instrument readings.
Right in the groove
, he thought.
We’re going to make it
.
    He checked his air pak, seeing it was more than half-gone.
    For a moment Han was tempted to explore the
Dream
further, but he resisted the impulse. Moving around would just cause him to use up his oxygen faster, and he was skirting the edge of safety as it was.
    So he settled back down, and the memories came back. Aunt Tiion. Poor woman And dear cousin Thraken as hre remembered, Han’s lips pulled back from his teeth in a feral grin that was more like a canoid’s snarl …
    Han swung down off the high stone wall and landed lightly on the balls of his feet. Through the trees he could see a large structure built of the same native stone as the
wall, so he headed toward it, staying in the tree-shadow whenever possible
.
    When he reached the house, he halted, staring at it in amazement. He’d seen a lot of rich mansions, even lived in more than a few, but he’d never seen anything like the Sal-Solo estate
.
    Towers festooned with creeping vines, four of them, stood at each corner of a large, squarish stone building. An ancient gardener droid moved about arthritically, pruning the bushes that grew down to the edge of a large trench filled with water. Han walked around to the side and saw, to his surprise, that the stretch of water completely surrounded the house. There was no way to enter the place, except to cross a narrow wooden bridge that spanned the water and led up to the front door
.
    Han had been interested in military tactics ever since he was small, and he’d read up on them. He studied the Sal-Solo mansion, realizing it was built to almost military fortress standards of impregnability. Well, that sort of fit in with what he’d read about the Solo family. They didn’t socialize, didn’t attend charity events or go to plays or concerts
.
    In all the times he’d posed as a rich kid, he’d never heard anyone mention the Solo family—and the way those rich people talked about each other, he’d have heard
something
if they ever mingled with their peers
.
    Han walked cautiously toward the house. He’d exchanged his ship’s gray jumpsuit for a “borrowed” pair of black pants and a pale gray tunic. He didn’t want anyone finding out where he’d come from
.
    When he was nearly to the beginning of the causeway, he stood behind one of the large, ornamental bushes and warily peered across the water to the house. What should he do now? Just walk up and activate the door signal? He bit his lip, undecided. What if they called the authorities on him, reported him as a runaway? Shrike would descend on him so fast—
    “
Gotcha!
”
    Han gasped and jumped as a hand closed over his upper arm, hauling him around bodily
.
    The person who’d grabbed him was head and shoulders taller than the younger boy. He had darker hair than Han, and was stockier as well. But it was his face that made Han stand staring at him in blank amazement
.
    Han gaped, speechless, at the older boy. If he’d ever doubted that he was really related to the Solo family, those doubts died an instant death. The face of the youth who was holding his arm
looked like an older version of the face Han saw in the mirror every morning.
    Not that they were twins or