“You’re … you’re being blasphemous,” she said, sounding breathless, but she didn’t jerk away.
“No, I’m not,” he said. “Tell me your name.”
She shook her head miserably, and her eyes were haunted. “Vykk ˇ . .
I can’t…”
“All right.” I can wait, Han thought. “But I will see you again, right?”
She hesitated for so long that he found himself holding his breath.
Then she ducked her head, mumbled, “Yes,” and pulled away. This time, Han let her go.
921 ran away, into the dormitory, without looking back.
Han leaned forward in the pilot’s seat, glancing at the figures rolling by on the screen of the navicomputer. “Ready to enter realspace, at rendezvous coordinates,” he said aloud. “Three … two … one .
. .”
He pulled back the lever, and the stars around the Ylesian Dream suddenly elongated into thin streaks of light all reaching toward a central point—a point toward which the ship plunged. The engines roared, then throttled down, and then—with a suddenness that took some getting used to–they were back in realspace.
“Right on course, Muuurgh,” Han said triumphantly. “I’m getting this interstellar flying stuff down pat lately, ain’t I?”
“Aren’t,” the Togorian corrected. “I have been reading book Pilot gave Muur—” he stopped himself, “uh, me, and ‘ain’t’ is not correct way to talk Basic.”
“Remind me to teach you about articles sometime,” Han muttered. “Don’t I even get a gold star for bringing us to the rendezvous right on the money?”
“Much better than first time,” Muuurgh commented, referring to their first interstellar trip, three weeks ago. Han had made a tiny error in programming the navicomputer on exactly where to bring them out of hyperspace, and the Dream had wound up three parsecs from where they were supposed to emerge.
Han had had to make an extra hyperspace jump to bring them into correct position.
“Hey,” Han protested, “that was just my first time! And it wasn’t my fault that screen is so old that an eight looked like a six.”
“Pilot has done better since then,” Muuurgh acknowledged. “Second and third trips went okay.”
“You bet they did,” Han muttered. “I’m good, Muuurgh … I really am.
I’ll bet that I could almost pass the exams to get into the Imperial Academy now. A few more months practice, and I’ll really be set.”
“Muuurgh will miss …” the Togorian paused. “Correction. I will miss Pilot when he goes.”
“I’ll miss you, too, pal,” Han said, meaning it. “But don’t worry, we can—” The Ylesian Dream shuddered violently as a loud whang!
reverberated through her hull. “What the—” Han pushed buttons, turning on the rear viewscreen. “Muuurgh, something hit us!”
“Asteroid?” the Togorian suggested. Whanggggg!
“No!” Han yelled, staring incredulously at the viewscreen. “Two ships!
They’ve gotta be pirates! Get to the gunner’s well!”
As he stared at the screen, the rightmost vessel launched another shot.
“Brace yourself!”
Muuurgh, who had unstrapped himself and gotten up to head for the gunner’s mount, yowled as another shot whanged against the hull, sending him back into his seat with bruising force.
Cursing, Han yanked the Dream hard to port. Who were these guys?
Pirates usually fired warning shots and demanded that the attacked vessel surrender. Their goal was to steal the cargo, commandeer the ship, and keep the crew alive so they could be sold as slaves.
Destroying or crippling the ship and killing the crew wasn’t cost-effective “Muuurgh! Get below! They’re gonna blast us into atoms! We’ve lost a shield!”
As the Togorian propelled himself out of the copilot’s seat and lurched out of the control room, two more shots grazed the Ylesian Dream.
They’re aiming at the hyperdrive engines! They’re out to cripple us!
Han sent the ship into a desperate roll, flipping her up on her side, just in time to avoid another blast that nearly singed his underside and would have blown out his Quadex power core.
He put on a burst of speed, trying to get far enough ahead of the pursuing pirates to double back and shoot at them. He had little confidence in Muuurgh’s ability to actually hit anything while manning the gun well. The Togorian was quick and able, but he’d never actually shot at a live—much less moving—target.
As he sent the ship hurtling recklessly along, straining her speed to the utmost, Han flipped open his communications channel. He had to let someone know what was happening, in case the Dream was crippled and they got a chance to get to a lifepod.