Once, during dinner, he glanced around at the beautiful decor, taking in the swanky metal and living ice sculpture, the muted jizz trio, and the human servers. Several high-ranking Imperial officers were there, escorting attractive women in beautiful evening gowns. Han raised his glass unobtrusively into the air and whispered, “Bria, I made it. I sure wish you were here to share this with me, sweetheart …”
After paying the exorbitant price for the meal without a single regret, Han walked out of the restaurant and strolled across the broad, elegant plaza. The weather deflector mounted high above the plaza kept off most of the wind, so he was almost warm enough as he walked. He sealed up his old jacket against the chill.
All around him, and above him, Han could see the topmost spires and roofs of the highest buildings. This plaza was located right below the highest level in this part of Coruscant. Long, corkscrewed ramps led up to the upper level, in addition to the ubiquitous turbolifts.
Once out of the brightest glare of the lights, Han leaned against a railing and tried to see the stars. He picked out one or two of the brightest, but the horizon completely overshadowed the heavens. Red and green auroras shimmered and flickered, seemingly painted against the blackness by some mad, gargantuan artist. It was a breathtaking view. I made it!
Han smiled …
And then froze, as something hard and small and round jabbed into the small of his back. The muzzle of a blaster. A voice Han recognized, even though it had been nearly five months since he’d heard it, said jovially, “Hey, Han. Good to see you again, boy. I have to admit, you weren’t easy to find.”
This can’t be happening, Han thought. Not now! It’s not fair!”
The genial tones held a chuckle, now. “Han, why don’t you turn around real slow and easy, and let’s talk face-to-face.”
Han turned, very slowly, and as he had known he would, found himself face-to-face with Garris Shrike. The captain of Trader’s Luck had replaced his gaudy uniform with his old bounty hunter’s garb of scarred leather vest, trousers, and snug-fitting Alderaanian nerf-wool tunic, but otherwise he looked exactly the same as he had the night Han had left him sprawled unconscious on the deckplates.
No … Han thought, there’s something different…
After a moment he realized that he was looking slightly down at Shrike.
It’s me that’s different. I’ve grown a little. I’m taller…
Shrike scrutinized him. “Well … ain’t you handsome, boy,” he said.
“Too bad you can’t come back with me to the Luck and let some of the ladies get a look at you. You’d be a real favorite, I’m sure.”
Han finally found his voice. “What do you want, Garris?” he demanded coldly.
“Oh, so it’s ‘Garris’ now, is it? Think you’re my equal, do you?”
The man backhanded Han viciously across the face. When Han started to react, the blaster dug threateningly into his midsection. Silently the younger man wiped blood from a split lower lip. “Well, you’re not my equal, and don’t you forget it. All you are to me is a pile of credits from the Hutts for bringing ‘Vykk Draygo’ back to them alive.”
“The Hutts are looking for me?” Han asked, stalling for time.
“They’re looking for Vykk Draygo, and Jenos Idanian, and all the rest of your aliases, boy. But you’re ‘Han Solo,’ now, aren’t you? And I’m the only one in the whole galaxy, practically, who knew that Han Solo was also Vykk Draygo and all those others. So when I saw the Hutt advert, I decided to come out of retirement just for you. Too many credits to pass up.”
“I see,” Han said.
Shrike rocked his head back with another hard slap. “No, you don’t see, Han. You don’t see that things ain’t been going good for the Luck lately.
You don’t see that Larrad’s never been the same since your Wookiee hag dislocated his arm. Those credits from the Hutts are gonna turn things around for all of us.”
“Really?” Han asked. “I don’t see how just capturing me is going to change your luck. You’d do better to pull some kind of scam on Gamorr.
And I’m afraid … Garris … that I can’t go along with this little scheme of yours …” As he spoke, Han had begun lowering his voice, little by little, speaking more and more softly. Unconsciously, Shrike leaned forward slightly to hear—just as Han, with a wild scream, leaped straight at him. One arm swept up in a block, sweeping Shrike’s arm, and almost at the same moment, Han brought his knee up into the man’s groin. As Shrike doubled over with a grunt, Han punched him in the jaw, hard. The captain went down.