THE HUTT GAMBI(32)

“What’s the record?” Han asked curiously.

“Dunno,” Kid DXo’ln said. “I think it’s down below ten hours these days, but I never been crazy enough to try for it. Take my advice, and don’t play games with the Maw, Solo.”

Han tended to think Kid’s advice was good. Skimming the Maw seemed like the act of an idiot—a suicidal idiot.

Han set the Starfire down on Kessel, and the three smugglers donned breath masks and got out. There was a small cantina that served as a recreation area where pilots and crews could get something to eat and drink while waiting for the loading droids to fill their cargo bays.

Kid DXo’ln stayed behind to oversee the loading, leaving Han and Chewie to grab a quick bite. Ten minutes later Han was halfway through a hasty meal and a glass of Polanis ale. Privately, he wondered what to do now. Kid DXo’ln had made it clear that he was bound for parts he preferred to remain unknown—at least to Han—when the Starfire was finished loading.

The older man had commented that he was sure Han could catch a ride back to Smuggler’s Run, or back to Nar Shaddaa, probably via the Kessel Run, from here.

Kessel boasted no facilities for overnight guests. Han glanced around when the cantina door opened, and then his eyes widened as he beheld a familiar face.

“Roa!” he exclaimed, waving at the older man who’d just entered and was removing his breathing mask. “Hey, Roa! C’mon over and I’ll buy you a drink!”

Roa—if he had another name, Han had never heard it—was a big, stocky man with graying hair and a charming smile. He had a roguish twinkle in his blue eyes, and a sense of humor that made him friends easily.

It seemed that everyone on Nar Shaddaa knew Roa, and he knew them.

Roa and Mako were old friends, and Roa had been one of the first pals Mako had introduced Han to when he’d arrived on Nar Shaddaa.

Roa had been in the smuggling business for more than twenty years, which made him the grand old man of the trade. He enjoyed playing the role of “shepherd” to some of the younger smugglers, and was generous about sharing what he’d learned during his career.

Unlike many of the smugglers, who were little better than pirates, Roa had his own private “code” that he taught the young smugglers who rode shotgun with him on his old but meticulously maintained speedy freighter, the Wayfarer. Roa had taught Han, as he’d taught so many others: never ignore a call for help … never take from those who are poorer than yourself.., never play sabacc unless you’re prepared to lose, always be prepared to make a quick getaway … never pilot a ship under the influence.

Roa’s Rules, the smugglers called them.

Now, seeing his young friend, Roa’s friendly, open face broke into a wide grin. “Han, what’re you doing here?”

Han gestured to the seat beside him. “It’s a long story, Roa. Mostly we wound up here because a female Wookiee took too much of a liking to Chewie, here.”

Roa chuckled as he threw a leg across the bar stool. “Chewbacca, don’t tell me you got to meet Wynni!”

Chewie moaned aloud, rolling his blue eyes expressively. Roa guffawed.

“Oh, c’mon, Chewie, how bad could it be, entertaining an amorous lady Wookiee?”

Chewbacca snorted, then launched into a vivid explanation of how strenuous—and, at times, hazardous—Wookiee romance could be. Han could understand him, of course, but it was obvious that Roa was barely getting the gist of it.

The older smuggler’s eyebrows went up, then he shook his head when Chewie finished. “All right, sounds like you did the right thing by beating a hasty retreat, Chewbacca! Remind me never to attract Wynni’s attention.”

Han grinned. “Me neither,” he said, then sobered. “Problem is, we’re stranded here now. Kid DXo’ln brought us, but he’s heading out of here on some private business, and he doesn’t need a crew. So I’m lookin’ for a ride back to Nar Shaddaa. Any chance we can catch one with you, Roa?”

The older man smiled. “Sure, Han. Only trouble is, we’re not going directly back. I’ve got a load of spice to take on to Myrkr. How does Nar Shaddaa by way of the Kessel Run strike you?”

Han’s eyes lit up. “That would be great! I can’t really get the top piloting assignments until I’ve got a Run or two under my belt. Roa .

. .

any chance you’d let me pilot, and coach me through it?” The older man grinned. “Depends, Solo.” “On what?”

“How many drinks you buy me.”

Han chuckled, and waved to the bar droid for fresh ammunition. “Tell me about the Run,” he said. “I think I’m ready.”