“Okay,” Han said. I’ve got to figure out some way to pay for Muuurgh’s treatment, he thought as he watched the stretcher bearing the Togorian vanish inside the transport, which promptly lifted off and headed south.
Seeing a technician going by, Han waved the woman over. “Listen, I’ve sustained some damage,” he said. “Can I get a repair crew in here right away?”
“Let me see how bad it is,” she said. Han guided her into the gunner’s mount, then into the engine room to check out the hyperdrive.
“Both jobs will require at least six hours work to fix,” she told him.
“But we can start on it today.”
“Good,” Han said. He had done minor swoop and speeder repairs while he was a racer, but he’d never tackled anything as big as this, and he wanted to make sure the job was done right.
As the repair crew came aboard the Dream, Han wondered what he should do next. Call Ylesia, he decided. The priests were going to have to arrange for payment for the repairs and Muuurgh’s treatment.
Han headed for the control cabin, intending to place the call immediately.
His hand was actually on the switch when he suddenly froze.
Waaaaiiittt a minute … he thought. What am I doing? I’m sitting here with a load of glitterstim, the most valuable spice of all, and I’m just going to take it back to Ylesia so they can sell it again?
Han checked back in his automatic log recordings, listened to what he’d said during his transmission. He grinned to himself. This is a piece of cake. All I have to do is tell the priests that I was boarded and the pirates took the glitterstim. Muuurgh was out cold, he doesn’t know what happened. I can sell this spice here on Alderaan, stash the money in an account here, then send for it later. They’ll never know .
. .
But if he wanted to keep his job as a pilot for the Ylesian priests, he’d have to make the deal fast. He’d reported himself at the rendezvous coordinates, and the priests weren’t stupid. They could check on how long it would take a ship to get from where he’d been attacked to Alderaan. He could account for a few extra hours by pointing to the damage the Dream had sustained and pleading the slowness of the journey, the need to nurse the ship along …
Okay, Han thought. I’ve got about five hours I can fudge here …
no more. By that time I’ve got to call in and let them know I’m alive, that their ship is damaged, and that they have to arrange for payment.
Any more time than that, and they’ll get suspicious …
Pulling his battered brown lizard-hide jacket out of his locker, Han straightened his worn pilot’s coverall as best he could. Then he combed his hair. Don’t want to look scruffy, he thought wryly, thinking of Dewlanna and how the Wookiee had always told him he looked good with his hair standing straight up, like one of her own people.
Pulling on the jacket over the gray uniform, he stared regretfully at Muuurgh’s blaster, wishing he could strap it on. Stupid planet.
Whoever heard of a world with no weapons allowed? With a sigh and a shake of his head, Han left the Ylesian Dream to the repair crews.
He walked quickly to the entrance to the spaceport, then caught one of the free shuttles that led into the capital city of Aldera. The metropolis glittered white in the sunshine, as clean and luxurious as a city in a dream. Han stared out the windows of the shuttle, taking in the ultramodern towers, domes, and layered buildings, their white shapes interspersed with green terraces. The island was hilly, and the city architects had followed the natural lines of the place rather than leveling it. The result was pleasant and varied to the eyes …
beautiful and modern, without seeming harsh or artificial.
The automated shuttle’s canned program indicated points of interest as they passed. Han saw museums, gigantic enclosed gallerias, office and government buildings, and finally, as they approached the heart of the city, he saw the tall, sharp spires and shallow domes of the royal palace gleaming white and gold in the sun. Han smiled wryly, wondering if the child princess he’d seen was somewhere on those grounds, living her rich, perfect life. With any luck, I’ll soon be rich, too …
Han stayed aboard the transport as it glided along its route, and he continued scoping out the city. They were out of the big buildings, now, and heading through the residential suburbs.
Han had to admit that it looked like a nice place to live, as he gazed at the many fountained plazas and courtyards, the affluent homes, clean streets, and the well-dressed people they passed. But this isn’t the area I want… I’d better do some exploring on my own. They don’t want tourists to see the places I want to go…