The Force Awakens (Star Wars)

  “What are you gonna do?” Rey asked from the opening. “I’ve never heard of a Guavian Death Gang, but it doesn’t sound like something one man can handle.” She nodded toward Chewbacca. “Not even one man and a Wookiee.”

  Han shrugged. “Same thing I always do. Talk my way out of it.” At this his towering companion uttered a series of short, sharp moans and grunts. Han frowned up at him. “That is so unfair! Come on.” Again the countervailing moaning. “Of course I do—so far.” They started down the corridor back the way they had come, arguing all the way.

  “Yes, I do,” Rey and Finn heard Han saying as he and Chewbacca turned the far corner. “Every time.”

  They were alone in the sub-deck accessway. Except, Finn reminded himself uneasily, for the ravening monstrosity on the other side of the near wall. Thankfully, it had ceased its fruitless attempts to break free.

  “What now?” he heard himself asking.

  Standing in the hatch opening, Rey peered downward. “We follow his instructions. After all, he’s Han Solo. He must know what he’s doing.”

  —

  Han’s thoughts were working overtime as he and Chewie headed toward the cargo bay where the Guavian ship was most likely to have gained entrance. On a warship, or even on the Falcon, controls could have been activated to keep them out. But the lumbering freighter presently in his charge had thoughtfully, and unfortunately, been equipped with instrumentation allowing unhampered access from the outside. It was a safety measure, designed and installed to ensure that in the event some fool crew locked themselves outside the ship, they could always get back in. A useful abettor that at this particular moment he deeply regretted.

  Not that the Guavians, if denied entrance, would have hesitated to blast their way in. At least this way the big freighter wasn’t damaged. As for that happening to him and Chewie, it remained to be seen.

  No problem, he kept repeating to himself. You’ve done this a hundred times before, with everything from helpers to Hutts. Just stay calm and collected and baffle them with space dust.

  They never made it to the cargo bay. In fact, they didn’t have to look for the gang, because the gang found them. He and Chewie had hardly left Rey and Finn behind when a circular portal opened in the corridor ahead to admit six figures, all humanoid: five members of a helmeted, red-uniformed security team and one man in a suit. Han recognized Bala-Tik immediately: confident, experienced, and, at the moment, all but bursting with barely controlled anger. Inclining his head slightly toward his companion, Han whispered confidently.

  “I got this. Leave it to me.”

  Chewbacca coughed something not repeatable in polite Wookiee company.

  “Han Solo,” came the clipped voice of the gang leader, “you are a dead man.”

  Not a very promising beginning, Han had to admit. Not that he had expected anything else. The gang leader wasn’t one to waste time on false pleasantries. Smiling broadly, he nodded back.

  “Bala-Tik! Welcome aboard. Always good to see an old business associate. What’s the problem?”

  His visitor was not amused. “The problem is we loaned you fifty thousand for this job.”

  Peering through the grated hatch cover, Finn strained to hear what was transpiring down the corridor.

  “Can you see them?” an anxious Rey asked.

  He shook his head. “No. They’re too far away. I can hear that they’re talking, but I can’t make out the words. At least they aren’t shooting at each other. Yet.”

  Rey considered. “If they found Han and Chewbacca this quickly inside a ship this big, that suggests they’ve got at least short-range life-form detectors. Which means if one of them starts wondering about the possible existence of other crew members, they might find us.” She looked around. “We’ll be safe enough here because we’re close to one of the rathtars, but if they start parsing readouts, they’ll separate us out from the cargo.” She nodded up the service crawl space. “I’m not gonna sit here and wait to be pried out like a mithuk in a burrow. The Falcon is this direction.” She started moving.

  Finn hesitated. “Han specifically said not to think about taking the Falcon.”

  She looked back at him. “He’s talking to a Guavian Death Gang. It’s not inconceivable that polite conversation might turn into uncontrolled blaster fire. If that happens and Han is on the losing end, I’d like to have a chance to avoid the consequences. Like maybe being fed to the rathtars. Coming?”

  “Right behind you,” he replied with alacrity. Together they started moving fast along the crawl space.

  —

  Han smiled while spinning a ready response, having already anticipated Bala-Tik’s likely reaction. “Sure, right. Fifty thousand. A modest investment on which you’re going to make a big, fat profit. Don’t all my business enterprises pay off?”

  “No,” the Guavian gang leader replied curtly.

  Han spread his hands wide. “Sure they do! I’ve never lost money on a single venture.”

  “Yes, you have.” Bala-Tik was relentless.

  “Hey, everybody who does business with me gets their money back even if I lose.”

  “No, they don’t.” Relentless and cold. Cold as only the head of a Guavian Death Gang can be.

  Han responded with an exaggerated shake of his head and looked up at the Wookiee. “Can you believe this, Chewie? Out of the goodness of my heart and respect for everything this person represents, I bring to him the investment of the year, and all he can do is mock me!” He returned his attention to the silent Bala-Tik. “I expect thanks and all I get are insults. I didn’t have to come to you, you know. I could have gone to anyone with this deal and they would have jumped at the chance to get in on it. But no: I offered it to you. And this is my thanks?” His tone turned challenging. “What is it, Bala-Tik? Don’t you want your cut of the proceeds?”

  “I want my fifty thousand back,” the gang leader snapped.

  Han rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine! If that’s the way you want it.”

  “Kanjiklub also wants their fifty thousand back.”

  Han gaped at him. “What?”

  “Kanjiklub,” Bala-Tik repeated calmly. “You also borrowed fifty thousand from them.”

  Han strove to remain calm, though he could not prevent a bit of the color draining from his face. “That’s a lie! Who told you that?”

  “Kanjiklub,” Bala-Tik replied without twitching so much as an eyelash.

  Han turned a disbelieving circle, his voice filled with outrage. “Oh, come on! You can’t trust those little freaks!”

  Quiet crawling up the corridor serviceway had brought Finn and Rey to a position below and dangerously close to the intruders. At least, Finn told himself, they could now see and hear what was going on.

  “They have blasters,” she whispered.

  Finn nodded. “A lot of ’em.”

  Above, Han continued the dialogue. “C’mon, Bala—how long have we known each other?”

  The gang leader was not about to be inveigled by smooth chatter. Especially not when large loaned sums were involved. “The question is how much longer will we know each other? Not long, I think. Unless we get our money back. And we want it back now.”

  “The rathtars are here, on board this ship,” Han shot back. “I know it’s taken a little longer than I promised—”

  “Way longer,” Bala-Tik cut in. “Too much longer.”

  “—but I’ve got ’em, and King Prana is just waiting—no, he’s eager—to pay. Just be a little patient. You’ll get your money back, plus the promised profit.”

  Bala-Tik was growing impatient. “Says you. That is what you said when you borrowed the money. That is what you have being saying via communicator for some time now. Then you went silent. Failed to answer all communications.”

  “I was busy,” an exasperated Han informed him, “collecting rath
tars.”

  “So you say. In the absence of any communication, we did not know what you were doing. With our money. We suspected the worst.”

  Han smiled afresh. “And now you know the truth. You’re here, I’m here, and the rathtars for King Prana are here. You think it’s cheap hunting rathtars? I spent that money. I used that money. Just let me make delivery and you’ll have your investment back. Come with me if you want.”

  The gang leader’s gaze narrowed. “Come with you? Try to follow you in hyperspace? So that you can lose us, take a roundabout route to King Prana, collect all the money, and disappear again? I think not. I don’t trust you anymore, Solo.” He indicated his men. “We don’t trust you. So give us our money back. Kanjiklub wants their investment back, too.”

  Han’s reply was replete with frustration. “I told you: I never made a deal with Kanjiklub!”

  Bala-Tik gave an indifferent shrug. “Tell that to Kanjiklub.” He nodded, looking past Han and Chewbacca.

  Both peered back the way they had come. At the other end of the same corridor, another portal opened. An additional clutch of armed intruders appeared, whereupon Han’s face lost another bit of color. Though the newcomers differed greatly in appearance from the Guavians, he recognized them immediately from their patchwork armor and heavy gear.

  Kanjiklub cohorts.

  Their leader, a long-haired, grim-faced, and thoroughly disreputable individual wanted on at least six worlds, emerged from the group to confront him. For the second time in all too short a while, Han greeted an unwelcome boarder with a smile as wide as it was bogus.

  “Tasu Leech! Good to see you!”

  Han knew perfectly well that Tasu Leech would never deign to speak Basic, so he was not surprised when the man replied in another language—one with which Han was, fortunately, familiar. “Wrong again, Solo. It’s over for you, and for your associate.” Raising the weapon he held, Leech aimed it down the corridor.

  Chewbacca growled a response, causing Han to mutter under his breath.

  “Not now, Chewie! That won’t help.” Han took a deep breath. “Guys! You’re all gonna get what I promised. The merchandise is here, the buyer is waiting. I just need to make the delivery. Have I ever not delivered for you before?”

  Moving his hands deliberately and slowly, Tasu Leech made a show of activating his weapon. “Twice.”

  Han frowned. Leech was correct, of course, but Han wasn’t about to admit it. “Twice?”

  “Your game is old,” Bala-Tik called out from the other end of the corridor. “You’ve played it too many times. Your excuses wore thin many years ago. So many times, so many excuses. Everyone knows them now. I stand here before you and can recite in my head the excuses you are going to make before you yourself can speak them. You are tired, Han Solo. Tired and old, just like your game. There is no one in the galaxy left for you to swindle.”

  “Nowhere left for you to hide,” added Leech, not to be outdone. “Usually a senile old fool knows when to retire. But sometimes he simply needs to be retired.” He started to raise his weapon.

  “Wait!” Something had caught Bala-Tik’s attention. Taking a couple of steps forward, he peered between Han and Chewbacca. The short, spherical shape sitting there moved slightly to its right, trying to stay hidden behind the Wookiee. “That BB unit—chatter says that the First Order is looking for one just like it. Accompanied by two fugitives.”

  Han was remarkably indifferent. “First I’ve heard of it.”

  Below, straining for a better look, Rey sought purchase on a transition bar. Unfortunately, it was old and weak. Under her weight, it broke free, fell just out of reach of her fingers, and clanged against the floor.

  Everyone on the decking above reacted instantly to the sound. Tasu Leech’s second-in-command, an unlovely character named Razoo Qin-Fee, stepped forward.

  “Search the freighter,” Bala-Tik ordered.

  Activating an illuminator, another of the Kanji group started down the corridor, aiming the light into every crack, transparent panel, and opening in the walls and floor.

  Rey and Finn started moving fast, away from the searchlight and along the crawl space. “We could die here,” Rey said.

  “That’s possible.” Finn kept up with her. “In fact, given the present circumstances, I’d say it’s almost likely.”

  “That’s right,” she muttered back at him. “Try to be optimistic.”

  He gestured upward. “We don’t have weapons, we’re relying on the fast talk of an old smuggler who may or may not have been a Rebellion general, and we’re trapped between a bunch of homicidal Kanjiklubbers and a Guavian Death Gang. Excuse me if I don’t sound optimistic.”

  “Keep moving!” she snapped. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  “We’d better,” he muttered in reply, “because we sure don’t have anything else going for us.”

  Initially prepared to shoot Solo down where he stood, Bala-Tik now found himself desirous of the answers to a few questions. There was no rush to kill the smuggler and the Wookiee. They were trapped in the corridor and weren’t going anywhere.

  “Be cooperative, Solo, and maybe we can work something out.”

  Handed a lifeline, however short, Han was grateful for a chance to stall for time. “What do you want to know, Bala? Like I said, I don’t know anything about the Order’s interest in a BB model or some suspected fugitives.”

  “Okay then,” the gang leader replied. “We’ll keep it simple. Where’d you get the droid?”

  “He’s mine, that’s where.” Han met Bala-Tik’s stare evenly.

  The gang leader was not intimidated. Nor was he pleased.

  “I am afraid that is not a satisfactory answer.” He smiled dangerously. “As you say, Han, we have known each other a long while. In all that time I have never known you to frequent the company of droids, of whatever station or model. Certainly not to be so protective of one.”

  “Who says I’m being protective of it?”

  Bala-Tik gestured. “It tries to conceal itself behind you.”

  Looking back, Han nudged the droid with a leg but failed to shift BB-8 from its position. “I don’t care where it puts itself. It doesn’t take much to frighten a droid, Bala.”

  The gang leader nodded agreement. “Especially one that might be wanted by the First Order.”

  As Han and the gang leader argued, Rey halted her retreat so abruptly than Finn nearly crashed into her.

  “Now what?” he asked. “Please tell me you’ve stumbled over a couple of pulse rifles.”

  She was staring at a section of wall. “Maybe something even better.” She tapped the cover that protected a slight bulge in the wall. “If this is a flow panel for this corridor, I might be able to manually disrupt the programming. That would trip the emergency sequence and drop all the blast doors in this section. We can trap both gangs!”

  Finn considered. “Shut the blast doors from down here? Won’t that trap Han and Chewbacca, as well?”

  She was excited now. “Yes, but they’ll be separated from the gangs. We can work out how to get them out after we’ve neutralized the Guavians and the Kanjis. Redirecting the flow should do it. It doesn’t matter to what level: All we want to do is bring down the blast doors.”

  He nodded enthusiastically. “Let’s do it. What’ve we got to lose?”

  She opened the panel, exposing the intricate flowtronics within, and set to work. Tools would have made it easier, but the system was designed to be set and reset as easily as possible. Finn lent a hand, following her lead.

  Above, Bala-Tik was out of questions and out of patience. “Enough banter.”

  “Bantha? Now you want a bantha?” Han asked. “What, three rathtars aren’t enough for you?”

  “We’re going to take that droid,” Bala-Tik told him firmly. “And you’re going to give us our money back.” br />
  “Or your dead body.” Razoo Qin-Fee spoke as he continued to ply the corners of the corridor with his illuminator. “Your choice, Solo.”

  Members of both gangs laughed. Han laughed with them, albeit uncomfortably. Even if he could keep Bala-Tik talking, the Kanjis were notoriously poor listeners. And he was about out of clever things to say.

  That was when the lights began to flicker. Laughter faded as Kanji and Guavian alike regarded the now sporadic illumination with uncertainty. Distant components cycling on and off filled the corridor with a clicking and gnashing like the cries of a thousand mechanical insects. Han’s eyes widened. With Chewie moaning beside him, he murmured softly.

  “I got a bad feeling about this.”

  —

  Abruptly, the illumination in the corridor returned to life brighter than ever. Below, Rey leaned back from the now modified flow panel.

  “Uh oh.”

  Finn looked from her to the panel and back again. “Uh oh, what?”

  She turned to him, slightly pale. “Uh oh, wrong reflow. I didn’t close anything. I opened everything.”

  He leaned close to the exposed panel, studying the interior lines. “Can you put it back the way it was?”

  She shook her head rapidly. “I purposely locked the reset so that if there was a corresponding panel anywhere in the corridor itself, nobody could undo it and raise the blast doors. Except they’re not going to close now—and everything else is going to raise up.”

  Finn stared at her, one thought in his mind, one word on his lips.

  “Rathtars.”

  IX

  “ENOUGH OF THIS,” Bala-Tik snarled. He looked back at his men. “New plan! Kill them and take the droid!”

  Weapons came up. Han and Chewbacca looked around wildly, but in the smooth-sided corridor there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Han closed his eyes.

  Which was when something monstrous appeared behind the Guavians. It was so large it could barely fit in the cargo corridor. Tentacles whipped out to snatch up two of the gang, who screamed as their torsos were crushed. Whirling, howling, those who were still able to do so unleashed wild bursts of fire in the direction of their attacker. Those that struck the rathtar barely caused it to flinch. Wisely, Bala-Tik and the survivors scattered.