THE PARADISE SNARE(25)

“Well, I dunno …” he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “I made more than that in my previous position …”

A lie, but not one they’d be able to disprove. Vykk Draygo had indeed made more than that—Han had paid well to make sure his alter ego’s job record showed that he could command the highest wages. It had taken all of Han’s savings, plus the proceeds from two dangerous heists that Garris Shrike hadn’t known anything about, to finance those alterations in his alter ego’s job record—but Han had wanted Vykk Draygo to be able to command a high salary.

Teroenza pondered that information, then said, “Very well, I can offer you thirty thousand for the year, with a bonus of ten at the end of the first six months, providing you make every assigned flight on schedule.”

“Bonus of fifteen,” Han said automatically. “And you provide the training sims.”

“Twelve,” countered Teroenza. “And you pay for the sims.” “Thirteen,” Han said. “You supply the sims.”

“Twelve and a half, and we provide the sims,” the High Priest said.

“Final offer.”

“Okay,” Han said, “you got yourself a pilot.”

“Excellent!” Teroenza actually chuckled, a deep, booming, oddly melodious sound.

Quickly the contracts were produced, and Han signed them, then allowed a retinal scan as proof of his identity. Hope they’re like everyone else , he thought, and just do a general, system-wide check of my retinal patterns.

If the priests ordered a comprehensive—and very expensive—allsystems search to determine whether “Vykk Draygo’s” retinal scan was unique, they’d eventually discover that it wasn’t. Vykk Draygo, Jenos Idanian, Tallus Bryne, Janil Andrus, and Keil d’Tana all shared the exact same retinal patterns—which wasn’t surprising, as all of those individuals were, in fact, Han Solo.

Before Han left Trader’s Luck, he’d taken the precaution of stashing a small hoard of credits and complete ID sets in two lockboxes on Corellia, in case he ever needed a quick change of identity. Garris Shrike had provided the boy with different sets of ID for each scam Han participated in, and Han had kept each set and updated them as necessary.

The Corellian knew, however, that none of his forged IDs would stand up to Imperial scanners. Before he’d be able to take the Academy entrance exams, Han was well aware that he’d have to pay out a small fortune in bribes on Coruscant to gain ID documentation so genuine that it would pass an Imperial security clearance check.

With all of the business details taken care of, Teroenza then summoned an Under-Priest, or Sacredot, as they were called, and instructed him to take Han on a tour of the complex. Han was left in private to put on his jumpsuit, after being assured that clothing bearing the Ylesian symbol—a huge, wide-open eye and mouth—would be furnished to him.

As he donned the clothes and his boots, he realized that he was sweating heavily. Hot and humid, he thought. Wonderful climate. But for the money the priests were paying, he was willing to put up with a year’s discomfort. By taking this job, he’d get lots of practice flying big ships and access to training sims. That ought to ensure that he could pass the entrance exams to enter the Academy.

The money would mean that he had the proper amount for bribes to make sure his application was processed quickly and actually reached the admissions officers. He knew from his research that without bribes it frequently took a month or more for a cadet candidate to apply, pass all relevant exams, be interviewed, and finally accepted for entrance into the Imperial Academy.

The Sacredot arrived and introduced himself as “Veratil.” Han followed him down a corridor, past a large amphitheater, and what appeared to be a registration area. “Our Welcome Center,” the priest explained.

Veratil led him outside. Han stepped through the door, and even before he could draw a deep breath, he was immediately bathed in sweat.

Steaming heat and humidity smote him in the face, almost like a physical blow. The air was rich with smells—heavy perfume from flowers, rotting vegetation and another odor, one he’d smelled before but couldn’t quite identify.

Han stood at the top of the short ramp that led down from the building and looked up at the sky, seeing that it was a translucent blue gray The sun overhead was an orangey-red, and looked larger than he was used to. This star must be closer to its planet than Corel was to Corellia.

Han glanced at the shadows, seeing it was far past noon, and then glanced at his wrist-chrono. “How long is the day here?” he asked Veratil.