THE HUTT GAMBI(38)

. .

Han counted seconds in his head as he angled his stern slightly toward the Drell, offering the most tempting target he could. Three two.., one!

“Portside gunner one—fire!”

The deadly beam shot out, but as Han had figured, the agile Drell vessel evaded the blast.

Four… three.., two.., one… Han counted, watching the portside viewscreen. “Yes!” he shouted as the evading ship ran straight into the blast from portside gun two!

Incandescent white fire blossomed against the blackness.

“You got him!”

Cheers erupted from the comm unit.

The Headhunters were zeroing in on another of the Drell ships.

Stuttering bursts from their lasers shone red against the star-speckled blackness.

Han could only spare a glance for the snubfighters and their battle.

He sent the Star Jewel hurtling toward the two remaining Drell ships, then spoke into the comm. “Starboard gunners, prepare to fire continuous bursts on my order. Coordinates are …” Glancing at his board, he gave them a string of numbers.

He watched as the two Drell ships came about for another attack run, then began hurtling toward the yacht at full speed. “Starboard gunners, fire at maximum.., now!”

The three powerful turbolasers blasted away into empty space. Those captains are gonna think I’ve lost my mind, Han thought as he counted the bursts from his starboard battery, mentally timing their pounding rhythm.

What he was planning required pinpoint timing.

As the Drells reached firing range, Han wrenched his controls, rolling the big ship to port, turning it up on its side.

Seeing that Han hadn’t lost his mind after all, the Drell pirates scattered wildly, trying to evade the bursts from the turbolasers that were now aiming directly at them!

One Drell pirate managed to evade, but the other one was trapped in the middle of the full barrage pattern. The blast from starboard gun two caught it dead center.

This time, the Star Jewel was close enough to the explosion to lose a starboard deflector when it was repeatedly pummeled by wreckage. Han watched the indicators on his instruments leap as the Hutt yacht sheered through the zone of destruction, then out the other side.

He glanced at the port viewscreen. The other Drell ship was slowly spinning, a huge hole blown in its side. Only one of the Headhunters was visible. The fourth Drell ship, the one that had escaped the barrage pattern, was hightailing it.

Han considered giving chase, but he knew the pirate had too much of a headstart. Instead he turned the yacht and headed back to pick up the remaining Headhunter.

By the time he remembered to flick the comm unit back on, Jabba’s threats and imprecations had died away. Han cleared his throat.

“We’re okay, Your Excellency. Hope I didn’t jounce you around too much back there.”

“My precious cargo is upset!” Jabba grumbled. “I may have to sacrifice one of my dancers to appease his appetite. Blood eaters are sensitive creatures, Solo!”

“Uh … yessir. Sorry about that, sir. But I had to fight.

Otherwise we’d have been blown out of space. Those pirates weren’t just looking for loot and salvage, Your Excellency. They knew we were coming. They were waiting at exactly the right spot to intercept a ship making the last leg of a trip to Tatooine.”

“Really?” Jabba’s petulant tones suddenly hardened. Now the crime lord was all business. “What do you think they were attempting to do, Captain?”

“Disable or destroy us, Your Excellency,” Han said, opening the landing-bay doors so the one remaining Headhunter could limp in. “I believe they were after you, sir.”

“Another assassination attempt …” Jabba sounded very thoughtful.

Han knew that devious mind was working at lightspeed.

“I think so, sir.”

“Interesting,” Jabba grunted. “Captain, may I ask where you learned those … unorthodox … maneuvers?”

“At the Imperial Academy, Your Excellency.”

“I see. They proved most useful, I must admit. You are to be doubly commended for foiling this cowardly attempt to murder me, Captain Solo.

Remind me of that when we return to Nar Shaddaa.”

“You bet,” Han promised.

“Solo knows something,” Jabba the Hutt said to his Uncle Jiliac two weeks later as they shared a light repast in the small lounge that adjoined Jiliac’s audience chamber on Nar Shaddaa.

Jiliac reached into his elegant combination snackquarium and water pipe—a gift from the long-dead Zavval—and extracted a wriggling morsel. Holding the frantic creature in midair, he regarded it absently. “Really?” he said after a moment’s silent consideration.

“Knows what?”