“But you look magnificent,” Leia said.
“Oh, I know that. Not even the wig could downgrade me to `just startlingly handsome.’ ” Shrugging, Lando swung the display screen completely out of the way. He affixed Han with a stern stare. “Navigator, our heading?”
Han returned his glare. He’d had to go to a greater extreme to disguise himself. Without a beard, he looked like Han Solo; with one, he looked like his cousin, Thrackan Sal-Solo, the late Corellian President. So more significant efforts were called for. He’d sprayed all exposed areas of skin with a cosmetics compound that turned him a yellowish hue, and the spiky black halves of his false mustache, had they continued up to his nose, would have made a perfect chevron. “Same as it was five minutes ago, Captain,” he said. “Straight toward Corellia. Straight from Coruscant. Along the most heavily patrolled corridor through the exclusion zone.”
“Good, good.” Lando nodded benignly. “I’m glad you haven’t managed to foul up in five minutes.”
Han flexed his shoulder experimentally. He was recovered enough not to need the sling at most times, but still not in shape to handle piloting in extreme situations. “When I’m better, I’m going to throttle you.”
“Good, good.”
Leia smiled and turned back to her control board. She was the least dramatic looking of the three. Dressed in a dumpy brown jumpsuit padded here and there to make her less visually interesting to male observers, wearing makeup that diminished her beauty rather than enhancing it, her hair in a nondescript style and tucked up into her cap, she was unexceptional in every way.
Then, as her attention fell on the sensor screen, her eyes brightened. “We have an incoming blip. No telemetry yet, except that it’s bigger than a starfighter, smaller than a capital ship.”
“Good, good.”
“Stop saying that,” Han muttered.
“Here we go.” Leia patched the comm board through the overhead speakers.
“Incoming craft, this is Spinner fish, Galactic Alliance Second Fleet. Cut your sublight engines and identify yourself immediately.” The voice was male, curt, an alto trying to force itself into the range of a baritone.
At Lando’s nod, Leia killed the ion thrusters. Lando swung out his display screen again and activated it.
Before him was the image of a young man, crisply attired in an Alliance Fleet lieutenant’s uniform. He was cleanshaven, his face angular, his manner stern, official. Behind him were cockpit chairs arranged in a configuration Lando recognized. Armed shuttle, he told himself. Don’t we rate at least a corvette?
But he put on his friendliest smile and modulated his voice into its richest tones. “Hello! I’m Bescat Offdurmin, master of the private yacht Looooove Commander. What’s a spinnerfish?”
The lieutenant opened his mouth as if to answer, looked confused for just a fraction of a second, and thought better about responding. “Love Commander, you are entering restricted space. You have to turn around and depart the Corellian system.”
“Oh, no, son, I’m here for at least a month. I’m here to gamble.”
“Gamble-sir, what’s your planet of origin?”
“That would be Coruscant.”
“Then you have to be aware that the Galactic Alliance and the Corellian system are currently in a state of war.”
“You don’t say. What has that got to do with gambling?”
“It means you can’t visit.”
“Son, I don’t see that gambling has anything to do with anything. My gambling in Corellia won’t alter the course of the war one millimeter. I mean, it’s not as though I had a bunch of smuggling compartments filled with bacta or offers of aid from Commenor, is it?”
The lieutenant’s mouth worked for a moment. Then he said, “Love Commander, prepare to be boarded and inspected.”
Lando smiled agreeably. “Now, that’s the kind of thing I like to hear. Decisiveness. Crew, activate the top air lock and prepare to be boarded.”
The lieutenant and two security officers came aboard. Han took the security men on a tour of the yacht while the lieutenant came to the control cabin, his datapad in hand and questions on his mind. He sat in the navigator’s seat while Leia pretended to ignore him.
“Captain Offdurmin, do you know what the penalties are for offering aid and comfort to the enemy in a time of war?”
“I imagine they’re pretty harsh,” Lando said. “Good thing we’re not doing that.”
“Good thing we’re not doing that,” Leia quietly echoed, making a small gesture with two outstretched fingers.