THE HUTT GAMBI(67)

Starmite worked fine; other times they were lucky if they could limp back to Lando’s shipyard for repairs.

The Bria’s navicomputer developed amnesia and her hyperdrive went on vacation. On her good days, Han was such an expert pilot that he could coax a fair turn of speed out of her, but nearly every time they took her out on a test run, some new problem surfaced in the ship.

Han complained to Lando, who only pointed out that the lease Han had signed said “as is,” and that he’d made no guarantees about the ship’s spaceworthiness. Also, Lando pointed out–correctly—he was leasing the little Starmite to Han at a very reasonable price.

Han couldn’t argue with that, but it didn’t help when the Bria just quit cold, as she did at least half the time.

Han mentioned his ship woes to Mako, who introduced his friend to yet another of his acquaintances.

“Master starship mechanic, pilot, and repair tech Shug Ninx, meet Han Solo and his partner Chewbacca. They got a ship needs some work.”

Shug Ninx was humanoid, but though he looked mostly human, Han could tell immediately that he had some alien blood. He was tall, with spiky brownish-blond hair and pale blue eyes. The skin on the lower half of his face was mottled with pale spots, and his hands only had two fingers plus an extra joint in his opposable thumb. It gave him great dexterity when fiddling with machinery.

Han could tell from the man’s wary expression that Shug Ninx had frequently met with suspicion because of his mixed blood. Most of that distaste had probably come from Imperial officials. They regarded anyone who was a “half-breed” as a lower-class citizen.

Han held out his hand, smiling. “Pleased to meet you, Shug,” he said.

“Think you can help me get this bucket of bolts up and running?”

“We can sure give it a try,” Shug said, visibly relaxing. “Bring her over to my spacebarn today, and we’ll check her out.”

To reach Shug’s facility, Han had to fly the Bria down a narrow abyss between the tall, vertical towers of two huge, jumbled building complexes.

When Han and Chewie reached the “spacebarn,” Shug’s huge spacedock and garage, located deep down in the warren that was Nar Shaddaa, he was impressed with the facility. “Wow,” he said, looking around at all the ships in various states of assembly, “this place beats any Imp spacedock I ever saw. You’ve got just about anything you could want here.”

Equipment lined the walls, and was kicked into corners. At first glance the place seemed chaotic and cluttered, but as Han was soon to discover, Shug Ninx could immediately locate any piece of equipment in the place.

“Yeah,” Shug said proudly, obviously pleased by Han’s frank admiration. “I saved for a long time to buy this place.”

After Shug had a chance to check out the Bria, the half-breed shook his head mournfully. “Han, half your problem with this ship is that she’s been modified using non-SoroSuub parts and components! Everyone knows that SoroSuubs don’t take kindly to that!”

“Can you help us get her running?” Han asked.

Shug nodded. “Won’t be easy, but we’ll try.”

Over the next few weeks, Han and Chewie helped Shug Ninx fix up their new ship. The two smugglers worked each day until they were exhausted, tinkering and learning the intricacies of starship repair from the master mechanic.

Han was so tired by all of the work, he almost quit going out, but one evening, on impulse, he stopped off for a drink in a local tavern he frequented in the Corellian sector. The Blue Light served only liquor, and was mostly a dive, but Han kind of liked the dark little place with its holoposters of Corellian cities and natural wonders on the wall.

It was too dark to see them well, of course—especially after a drink or two. But it suited him better than the glitzier joints.

While he was sitting at the bar, sipping an Alderaanian ale, a fracas erupted in the back of the place. Han jumped to his feet at the sound of a woman’s curse, then a man’s drunken growl. “Hey, baby, that’s no way for a lady to talk!”

“I’m no lady,” a woman said in a deep, angry voice. Peering into the dimness, Han could make out two struggling figures, hear the sounds of a scuffle, then a slap.

“C’mere, you tramp!” the man said.

The woman swore, then Han heard the meaty sound of a punch. The man yowled, then lunged at her. As he raced toward the back, Han saw the man’s feet leave the floor. The woman tossed him, using a singleshoulder throw that was accompanied by a popping sound. The man shrieked, a short, bitten-off scream, then thumped to the floor and lay there, sniveling and whimpering.