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THE PARADISE SNARE(4)

By:A C Crispin


He stared at her, his indignation vanishing as he realized that this was the last time he’d see her beloved furry face, her gentle blue eyes, for a long time. Dewlanna had been his closest—and frequently only—friend for so long now. Leaving her was hard, very hard.

Impulsively, the Corellian youth threw himself against her warm, solid bulk, hugging her fiercely, His head reached only to the middle of her chest. Han could remember when he’d barely stood as tall as her waist.

“I’m going to miss you,” he said, his face muffled against her fur, his eyes stinging. “You take care of yourself, Dewlanna.”

She roared softly, and her long, hairy arms came around him as she returned the embrace.

“Well, ain’t this a touching sight,” said a cold, all-too-familiar voice.

Han and Dewlanna both froze, then wheeled to face the man who’d entered through the Wookiee’s quarters. Garris Shrike lounged in the doorway, his handsome features set in a smile that made Han’s blood coagulate in his veins. Beside him, he could feel Dewlanna shudder, either with fear or loathing.

Two other crew members—Larrad Shrike and Brafid the Elomin—were visible over Shrike’s shoulder. Han balled his fists with frustration.

If it had only been Shrike, he might’ve chanced jumping the Luck’s Captain. With Dewlanna to help him, they might have been able to subdue Garris, but with Larrad and the Elomin also present, they didn’t have a chance.

Han was acutely conscious of the stolen blaster shoved into his belt.

For a moment he considered going for it, but he abandoned that idea.

Shrike was known for being fast on the draw. There was no way he could beat him, and that might get both Dewlanna and himself killed. Shrike was clearly in a rage.

Han licked dry lips. “Listen, Captain,” he began. “I can explain—” Shrike drew himself up, his eyes narrowing. “You can explain what, you cowardly little traitor? Stealing from your family? Betraying those who trusted you? Stabbing your benefactor in the back, you sniveling little thief?”

“But—” “I’ve had it with you, Solo. I’ve been lenient with you so far, because you’re a blasted good swoop pilot and all that prize money came in handy, but my patience is ended.” Shrike ceremoniously pushed up the sleeves of his bedizened uniform, then balled his hands into fists. The galley’s artificial lighting made the blood-jewel ring glitter dull silver. “Let’s see what a few days of fighting off Devaronian bloodpoisoning does for your attitude—along with maybe a few broken bones. I’m doing this for your own good, boy. Someday you’ll thank me.”

Han gulped with terror as Shrike started toward him. He’d lashed out at the trader captain once before, two years ago, when he’d been feeling cocky after winning the gladitorial Free-For-All on Jubilar—and had been instantly sorry. The speed and strength of Garris’s returning blow had snapped his head back and split both lips so thoroughly that Dewlanna had had to feed him mush for a week until they healed.

With a snarl, Dewlanna stepped forward. Shrike’s hand dropped to his blaster. “You stay out of this, old Wookiee,” he snapped in a voice nearly as harsh as Dewlanna’s. “Your cooking isn’t that good.”

Han had already grabbed his friend’s furry arm and was forcibly holding her back. “Dewlanna, no!”

She shook off his hold as easily as she would have waved off an annoying insect and roared at Shrike. The captain drew his blaster, and chaos erupted.

“Noooo!” Han screamed, and leaped forward, his foot lashing out in an old street-fighting technique. His instep impacted solidly with Shrike’s breastbone. The captain’s breath went out in a great whoosh and he went over backward. Han hit the deck and rolled. A tingler bolt sizzled past his ear.

“Larrad!” wheezed the captain as Dewlanna started toward him.

Shrike’s brother drew his blaster and pointed it at the Wookiee.

“Stop, Dewlanna!”

His words had no more effect than Han’s. Dewlanna’s blood was up—she was in full Wookiee battle rage. With a roar that deafened the combatants, she grabbed Larrad’s wrist and yanked, spinning him around and snapping him in a terrible parody of a child’s “snap the whip” game. Han heard a crunch, mixed with several pops as tendons and ligaments gave way. Larrad Shrike shrieked, a high, shrill noise that carried such pain that the Corellian youth’s arm ached in sympathy.

Grabbing the blaster from his belt, Han snapped off a shot at the Elomin who was leaping forward, tingler ready and aimed at Dewlanna’s midsection.