THE HUTT GAMBI(79)

The young officers filed aboard the ship, and took seats in the shuttle, strapping in. Han’s seatmate gave him a pleasant nod. Han nodded back and smiled. The crew complement of a Dreadnaught was 16,204, so it was highly unlikely that anyone would realize for a long time that Lieutenant “Stew Manosk” was an interloper.

The flight up to the Dreadnaught was uneventful. Han’s seatmate fell asleep. Han smiled. Too much shore leave, perhaps?

After they docked with the Destiny, Han filed off the ship, then headed for the nearest unoccupied datapad. The ship was big enough that nobody would be too surprised to see him call up a schematic showing what was located on each deck.

There we go … level four, section three …

Han quickly headed for the nearest turbolift. He boarded one, then was quickly shuffled into the back, as others crowded in on the next deck.

Han was staring straight ahead when he suddenly realized to his horror that he knew the young officer standing near the door!

It was Tedris Bjalin, the young lieutenant who had, so systematically, stripped Han’s uniform of rank during his courtmartial.

Han surreptitiously eased himself as far to the right as he could, behind a taller man, crossing his fingers that Tedris wouldn’t turn around. The lieutenant didn’t, and he got off at the next floor.

Han breathed a long, quiet sigh of relief. Of all the lousy coincidences, one of the few guys who could ID me! Actually, it wasn’t such an odd coincidence. Tedris was from the Outer Rim Territories.

It wasn’t too surprising that he’d be assigned out here, since he knew these spaceways.

I’ll just have to make sure I stay out of his way …

Once on level four, Han walked quickly along, looking for the corridor leading to section three. He found it, turned in, then walked down to the end. The highest-ranking officers always had offices with a viewport. One of the privileges of rank.

Han found the correct door, then hesitated, squared his shoulders, and felt in his pocket for the Hutt gift. It was a lovely (and quite valuable) man’s ring, platinum, set with a large and flawless Bothan glitterstone.

The anterior office was occupied by a silver droid, who was sitting before a desk, entering data on a datapad. The droid looked up as Han entered.

“May I help you, Lieutenant?”

“I need to see Admiral Greelanx,” Han said.

“Do you have an appointment, Lieutenant?”

“No, not exactly,” Han said. “But I know he’ll want to see me. I have some … information … for him. You know what I mean?” He leered, then winked, deliberately attempting to overload the “inference” circuits in the droid’s programming.

The silver droid’s green eyes flashed slightly as the creature tried to interpret what Han was saying. Finally, it stirred. “Excuse me, Lieutenant, perhaps you should speak with the Admiral’s aide.”

“Sure,” Han said, standing at ease.

The droid hastened into the next room, and Han could faintly hear it expostulating with someone inside. Finally, it came back out, followed by an extremely irritated-looking senior lieutenant. Han snapped to attention and saluted. “What’s going on here, Lieutenant?” the man snapped. “Sir, Lieutenant Stevv Manosk, requesting to see the admiral, sir!”

“State your business, Lieutenant,” the man, whose name badge identified him as “Kern Fallon,” ordered.

“Sir, I have a message for the admiral. It’s a … personal . .

.

message, sir.” Han was taking a calculated risk that Greelanx was as morally corrupt as many of the highranking Imperial officers he’d encountered. If the man took bribes, then there was a good chance that he was far from being an ascetic type where the ladies were concerned .

. .

Fallon raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon, Lieutenant?”

Han sensed that he was being tested, and didn’t change expression.

“Sir, she told me to give the message only to the admiral, sir.”

“‘She’?” Fallon’s voice fell until he was whispering. “You mean Malessa?”

Han allowed his eyes to widen and gambled. “Sir, this message is from Lady Greelanx!” he said, in shocked tones. “Who is Malessa?”

If Malessa is Lady Greelanx’s name, I’m done for, he thought.

But his luck held. Senior Lieutenant Fallon’s eyes went wide. “Lady Greelanx, but of course! I meant her, I just … slip of the tongue, Malessa is my wife, I just … slip of the tongue, I assure you, I was just thinking of her … wait just a moment …”

Fallon bustled inside, and Han allowed himself a smug smile. Pure sabacc, he thought. It had been a fairly safe bet that good old Admiral Greelanx had a mistress or two on the side …