“Your word?” Han laughed, then coughed. “That’s a laugh. Your word isn’t worth spit.”
“Sure, my word. Besides … if you shoot me, boy, you’ll never find out about your parents. Who they were … why you wound up being dumped into those alleys where I found you.”
Han stared at Shrike. “You know who they were? You know why I was abandoned?” He swallowed, and it was searing pain. “Tell me, and I may let you live.”
Shrike was almost within grabbing distance of the blaster now. Only a meter or so away. Han knew he should shoot him, knew Shrike couldn’t be trusted—but still he hesitated. “Tell me, Shrike?”
“I’ll tell you everything when you give me the blaster,” Shrike said.
“Everything. You have my word.”
Shoot him! Now! Han’s mind screamed.
With a wash of red light, a blaster bolt struck Garris Shrike directly in the chest. The captain threw up his hands, a look of terror and pain contorting his features. He fell backward like a stone, dead before he hit the permacrete.
Han stared wildly at his hand. His finger was on the trigger of the blaster, but he hadn’t moved it … had he?
The shot, he realized, a second later, had come from behind him. Han whirled, still on his knees, to find himself facing another man. He was human, young, medium tall, slender build. Darkish hair frosted by moonlight. He held a drawn blaster, and every line of him screamed “bounty hunter.”
“Okay, kid, it’s over,” he said, removing a pair of wrist-binders from his belt. “Stand up. You’re coming with me.”
Those first two shots! Han thought. It must have been him. He followed me up here, and just waited for Shrike to take me down, so he could step in and get me.
As if he’d sensed what Han was thinking, the bounty hunter added, “I knew old Shrike would find you. The Hutts don’t have a picture of you, so I followed Shrike, ‘cause he practically raised you, didn’t he, Vykk? I knew he’d pick you out for me.”
No—Han’s mind screamed. Not now! Not again!”
He was still stiff from the paralysis, exhausted and hurt from the fight with Shrike. Every muscle screamed with pain and weariness.
The bounty hunter gestured with the blaster. “Drop your blaster, kid, or I’ll stun you right in the head and scramble your brains good. The Hutts want you alive, but they didn’t say nothing about in your right mind. Drop it.”
Shaking, Han dropped the blaster from his nerveless fingers. With a grunt of effort, he tried to get up, but his right leg buckled beneath him.
“My leg …” he mumbled. “Right leg won’t take my weight …
Shrike kicked me.”
“Yeah, I saw him. Not very professional of him, but old Shrike always was hot-tempered,” the bounty hunter said. Moving forward, he added, “Now I’m going to give you a hand up. Don’t try—” With a demented howl, Han hurled himself headfirst into the bounty hunter’s midsection. This man was younger than Shrike, stronger and faster. But Han was fighting like a madman, with the strength borne of utter desperation.
He had nothing to lose, and he knew it.
The bounty hunter went over backward with a yell of surprise. Han threw himself after him, pummeling the man. Recovering himself, the bounty hunter slammed Han across the temple with the muzzle of his blaster.
Blood spurted, ran into Han’s left eye, but the Corellian didn’t let it slow him down. He clawed his way up the other’s body as though it were a jungle vine and head-butted the bounty hunter, slamming his forehead into the man’s nose. Han heard and felt cartilage break against the bone of his skull. The man’s shrill scream rang through the night.
Cursing, the bounty hunter grappled with Han, slamming him on the back and in the kidneys with the blaster. Han grabbed his arm and slammed his hand against the permacrete, wham… WHAM! The blaster dropped from the man’s fingers. Han butted the bounty hunter in the face again, ignoring the splitting of his own skin.
“You’re NOT taking me!” the Corellian yelled, slamming his head into the man’s face repeatedly. With a yell of terror, the bounty hunter heaved upward with all his strength and sent Han flying.
The Corellian hit, tried to roll, and slammed up against the structure that housed the turbolift. The bounty hunter, his face a gory mask from his broken nose and split lips, rushed for Han, murder in his eyes.
Han waited until the last possible second, then dodged. As the man went by, Han slammed his full weight into the other’s shoulder.
The bounty hunter’s head impacted with the stone structure with a crack that seemed to echo throughout the icy night.