THE HUTT GAMBI(7)

Respectably clothed again, he started up the street toward his rendezvous with Chewbacca.

Han knew something was up long before he reached the town square. The sound of a huge crowd was unmistakable. They seemed to be shouting in unison. The skin at the back of Han’s neck prickled suddenly as he realized that there was something familiar about those words. They weren’t in Basic, but he’d heard those simple, repetitious phrases before.

But where?

I’ve got a bad feeling about this … he thought, turning the corner and seeing the crowd. They were chanting. Chanting, swaying, rocking with religious fervor. Mostly Devaronians, of course, but there were a smattering of humans and other sentients. Han’s gaze raked the crowd, following it to the front. A hastily erected dais stood there, and atop it, leading the revival, stood a figure out of Han’s past.

Oh, no—he thought. This is a Ylesian revival, and that missionary is Veratil! I can’t let him see me!

Five years ago, Han had spent almost six months on the steaming, fungus-infested world of Ylesia. He’d been working as a pilot before taking the examinations to get into the Academy, practicing and honing his piloting skills. Ylesia was a world at the edge of Hutt space, where a race of beings called the t’landa Til—distant cousins of the Hutts—offered “pilgrims” supposed religious sanctuary.

The t’landa Til sent missionaries to many worlds to preach about the One and the All. Han had known that for years, but he’d never been unlucky enough to run into a Ylesian revival before now.

For a wild moment the Corellian wanted to draw his blaster, shoot Veratil down, and yell to the assembled crowd of potential pilgrims, “Go home!

It’s all a big fake! They just want you so they can enslave you, you fools! Get out of here!”

But how could he make them believe him? To most sentients in the galaxy, Ylesia was perceived as a place of religious retreat, where the faithful gathered, and those wishing to hide from their pasts could find sanctuary.

The fact that the Ylesian “sanctuary” would turn out to be a trap was known only to the lucky few—like Han—who’d managed to escape. No doubt Veratil had a transport standing by to load the pilgrims on board. Unfortunate sentients who followed him would have no idea that their voyage to Ylesia would lead only to slavery in the spice factories, then, when they grew too weak or sick to work, they’d face death in the spice mines of Kessel.

Ylesia was a golden dream for the faithful, but the reality was a world of bondage and unending toil.

Teroenza, Veratil’s boss, was the High Priest of Ylesia. Before fleeing the colony, Han had robbed the t’landa Til leader of the most valuable pieces in a rare and extensive collection. He’d left Teroenza wounded, but alive.

Han had escaped Ylesia in Teroenza’s personal yacht, the Talisman.

Soon after his getaway, Han discovered that the t’landa Til and their Hutt overlords had placed a fat bounty on the head of “Vykk Draygo”—Han’s alias. Han had to change his identity, even his retinal patterns, to escape detection and capture.

Now, seeing Veratil, Han ducked his head and turned away, wishing he had a hood he could pull up to hide his face. If the Sacredot saw him and recognized him, Han knew that he was in for it.

The chanting surrounding him intensified. Han began to sweat, despite the chill of the Devaronian weather, because he knew what was coming.

Across the town square, he saw a tall, furred shape standing on the edge of the crowd, watching the ceremony curiously. Chewie! Can’t let him get drawn into this! The Exultation is going to come in just a couple of minutes!

Han plunged into the crowd, keeping his head ducked, fighting his way through the throng as he would have clawed his way through a heavy surf.

He was breathing hard and his elbows and ribs ached by the time he reached the Wookiee. “Chewie!” he yelled, grabbing the big sentient by the arm.

“Let’s get outta here! This is gonna turn into a mob scene any second now!”

The Wookiee whined inquiringly. “Never mind how I know!” Han yelled above the chanting. “I just know! Trust me!”

Chewbacca nodded and turned away, using his huge size to part the crowd before him. Han started to follow him, then something caught the corner of his eye, and he turned his head. A gleam … a gleam of reddish gold on a stray curl.

Han caught just a glimpse of her, but his whole mind and body jolted to a stop as though he’d slammed into a stone wall while running at top speed.

Bria? Bria!

He caught only that one brief glimpse of a pale, perfect profile and a stray reddish-blond curl, but it was enough. She was standing there, wearing a black cloak and hood, in this crowd.