THE HUTT GAMBI(5)

The Barabel leaped for him. Han jumped back, but not far enough.

Shallamar’s huge, sharp talons grabbed the front of his jacket, slashing the tough material as though it were tissue. Still yanking at his trapped blaster, Han was hauled toward the Barabel’s wide-open mouth so fast his vision blurred. He let out a choked gasp as a blast of hot, reeking reptiloid breath engulfed him.

Suddenly Han glimpsed a blur of brownish tan at the corner of his vision, just as a huge roar nearly deafened him. A long, furred arm snaked around Shallamar’s neck, jerking her back, away from Han.

“Chewie!” Han yelled. He’d never been so glad to see someone in his life.

The Barabel roared back at the Wookiee, dropping the Corellian as she swung around to grapple with her attacker.

“Hold her for a second, Chewie!” Han yelled, yanking at the bottom of his holster as he twisted the grip of his blaster. At last! He pulled it up and sighted at the Barabel as she wrestled with the Wookiee, but he couldn’t get a clear shot.

The two huge beings, snarling and hissing, rampaged across the room, knocking over tables and chairs. The other sabacc players and denizens of the bar scattered before the fray, screaming advice and curses in multiple languages.

The Sullustan sabacc player dropped his hand to his own blaster, but when he saw that Han was now armed, he turned and flung himself behind the bar.

Shallamar and Chewbacca swayed back and forth, locked in a grim parody of a loving embrace, each testing the other’s strength, trying to get each other off balance. “Chewie, c’mon!” Han yelled. “Let’s get outta here!”

Chewbacca and Shallamar whirled in a blur of brown fur and black scales, then Shallamar lowered her head and snapped at the Wookiee’s arm. Her needle-sharp teeth sheared off a chunk of fur and meat. The Wookiee roared in agony and, with a burst of strength, grabbed the Barabel’s arm and slung her around with dizzying speed, so fast that her feet slid out from under her. As she went down, Chewie also grabbed her tail, swinging her so hard she was airborne.

With a final howl of triumph, Chewbacca released his grip and sent the huge reptiloid flying across the room, while sentients scattered to avoid her trajectory. Shallamar landed on her back amid a ruin of chairs, tables, and sabacc cardchips.

Stun won’t work, don’t want to kill—a jumble of thoughts raced through Han’s mind as he thumbed the setting on the blaster, aimed, and fired at the dazed Shallamar, hitting her at half force just below one huge knee joint. She hissed in pain and sagged back, black scales smoking and steaming.

“Chewie, c’mon!” Han yelled, snapping off a stun shot at the sabacc dealer, who was aiming a blaster at the Wookiee. The Devaronian went down without a sound. Chewie, dripping blood, was right behind Han as they raced for the exit, knocking over chairs and tables.

The tavern’s owner, a Devaronian female, blocked his way, screaming curses and threats, but Han slapped her aside with the barrel of his blaster and kept running. He slammed the door with his shoulder, then bounced off.

Locked!

Swearing in six nonhuman languages, Han thumbed the indicator on his weapon up to its highest power, and blasted the door. The proprietor howled in protest, but the Corellian and the Wookiee were already gone.

Han and Chewbacca pelted down the squalid alley, then swung out onto the street with its rustic-looking buildings made of blue native wood and stuccoed permacrete. A chilly breeze made the Corellian shiver.

It was early spring here on Devaron’s south polar continentˇ Han quickly holstered his blaster as he dropped his pace to a fast walk.

“How’s the arm, pal?”

Chewie groaned, ending in a snarl. Han glanced down at the damage.

“Well, it was your choice to come back,” he pointed out. “Not that I’m sorry you did, mind you. I … I want to say … uh …

thanks for saving my rear.”

The Wookiee made an interrogatory sound. Han shruggedˇ “Well, sure, I guess …” he mumbled. “I’ve never had a partner before, but ˇ .

. yeah, why not? It can get kinda boring on long space flights without someone to talk to, I guess.”

Chewie rumbled with satisfaction, despite his pain. “Don’t push your luck,” Han said dryly. “Listen, we got to get that arm seen to.

There’s a med droid’s clinic across the street. Let’s go.”

An hour later the two were back on the street. Chewie’s arm, after a bacta treatment, was sheathed in a protective bandage, but the med droid had assured them that Wookiees were quick healers.

The Wookiee had just finished commenting that he was hungry, when Han heard a soft call from the shelter of a nearby doorway. “Pilot Solo .