Memories came surging back, so strong that they scared him … Bria, a pale ghost of a slave in the spice factories of Ylesia. Bria, scared but determined as they robbed Teroenza of his treasures. Bria, sitting beside him on a golden sand beach on Togoria, her mouth soft and red and just begging to be kissed. Bria, lying in his arms late at night .
. .
Bria, who had left him behind, saying she needed to fight her addiction to the t’landa Til’s Exultation by herself…
Han had spent the past five years convincing himself that he’d forgotten her. After four years in the Imperial Academy, plus nearly a year of commissioned service, he’d been convinced that he no longer cared. But now, in a single searing blaze of insight, Han Solo knew he’d been lying to himself.
Without hesitating, he turned and plunged back into the crowd, heading for the woman in the black cloak. He was halfway there when the Exultation hit the crowd, and the throng of sentients collapsed onto the cobblestones of the town square as though they’d been stunblasted.
Han had forgotten how strong the Exultation was. Waves of intense pleasure rolled through his mind as well as his body. No wonder the Ylesian pilgrims thought the t’landa Til were Divinely Gifted! Even knowing, as Han did, that the Exultation was caused by an empathic transmission coupled with a subsonic vibration that caused a wave of pleasure that acted on the brains of most bipedal sentients, Han had to brace himself to resist it.
He knew without seeing it that the pouch beneath Veratil’s “chin” had swelled, and that the Sacredot was “humming” those vibrations as he concentrated on warm, positive emotions. To anyone unprepared for the force of the Exultation, the effect was as intoxicating as any pleasure drug. The ability to produce the Exultation was one that all t’landa Til males shared—it was actually a sex-linked biological ability they possessed that, in their natural habitat, was used to attract t’landa Til females.
All around Han the crowd had fallen prone, and most of the sentients were writhing in pleasure. The sight sickened Han. He’d shaken off the effects of the Exultation now, and he concentrated on not stepping on bodies as he plunged toward the woman in the black cloak and hood.
He could no longer see her face or that betraying tendril of hair.
His fingers remembered the soft silkiness of that hair … he used to play with Bria’s curls, watching them capture the light, bringing the reddish gold to vibrant life …
The woman in the black cloak and hood disappeared behind a stone bench as the crowd heaved in a wave of ecstasy from the Exultation. Han swallowed hard. Bria had left him because she was addicted to the Exultation. Was that where she’d been for the past five years? A willing slave on Ylesia, bound to her t’landa Til masters because she needed her daily dose of pleasure? Funny … he’d thought Bria had more strength than that…
Han reached the stone bench, then stopped, staring around him. The woman in the black cloak was nowhere in sight. Where’d she go? Bri-Han thought, staring around him wildly. From all sides he could hear the gasps and moans of the crowd filling the air.
He jumped up on the bench, straining his eyes, trying to pick up any trace of the woman in the black cloak. Han only realized what a terrible mistake he’d made when he found himself staring across the crowd, straight into the eyes of Veratil.
The huge, four-legged creature with the tiny arms and the broad, single-horned head was staring back at him, his small, reddish eyes wide with surprise.
The Corellian had no doubt that Veratil had just recognized him as “Vykk Draygo,” the man who’d wrecked the glitterstim factory, stolen Teroenza’s treasure, and caused the death of the Ylesian Hutt overlord, Zavval.
All around Han the moans of pleasure suddenly altered into cries of dismay and loss—Veratil’s attention had been diverted, and the Exultation had come to an abrupt, jarring halt.
Some of the throng wailed aloud, others jerked convulsively. Still others dragged themselves to their feet with cries of distress and anger. Han ducked his head and bolted forward, determined to lose himself in the crowd. And then, ahead of him, he caught a glimpse of black. Bria!
Forgetting Veratil, forgetting the danger he was in, Han plunged forward, slamming into would-be pilgrims, tripping over feet, elbowing his fellow sentients aside.
“Bria!” he yelled. “Stop!”
Putting on a burst of speed, Han reached the edge of the crowd. The woman was running now, but Han was moving at top speed and he caught her in a dozen swift strides.
Reaching out, he managed to grab the black fabric, yank her to a halt, then he grabbed her elbow and spun her around to face him–only to find that the woman he’d chased was a total stranger. How could he have mistaken her for Bria? This woman wasn’t homely, she was even pretty in a rather worn way … but Bria—Bria had been one of the loveliest women Han had ever seen. This woman’s hair was dark blond, not gold with warm reddish highlights.