Han smiled at the praise and was still grinning happily as they came down the ramp and onto the landing field. Both he and the Sullustan had to hastily don their infrared goggles—the night was dead-black, and not a single star was visible.
“Well, I’m off to get a few hours of sleep, lad,” the Sullustan said as he turned to head for the infirmary, where he was still under treatment, though he was no longer having to breathe filtered air.
“Good night.”
“Night, Nebl,” Han answered, and he turned, yawning, toward the path that led to the Administration Center. My bunk’s gonna feel awful good, he thought. Think I’ll sleep in and— .
Without warning, something large grabbed him from behind, and a furred paw-hand clamped over his mouth to stifle his yell of surprise. Han gasped as he was lifted clean off the path and carried a few steps into the jungle. Then a familiar voice breathed into his ear, “Muuurgh is sorry to have to do that, but Vykk was going to yell. We must be quiet.”
The Togorian set the Corellian on his feet again, and Han took a deep breath, preparatory to giving the giant alien a good scolding about not scaring people on dark nights. Muuurgh shook his furry head, and something about his expression, as seen through the infrared goggles, stopped Han in midword. Instead he asked quietly, “What’s wrong?”
“I found Mrrov,” Muuurgh said. “Pilot will be roused at dawn to fly to Colony Two and take her and other shipload of pilgrims to space station to meet an incoming ship. Ship coming from Kessel, must be—so no time to lose. Must escape. Now. Or Mrrov will be gone.”
Han shook his head. He was tired—he’d been sleeping in short shifts for the past four nights, and it was catching up with him. “Escape?
Tonight?”
“Yesssss!” Muuurgh’s anxiety was catching. Han could feel adrenaline beginning to course through his body. “Must escape! Tell Muuurgh what to do! Almost two hours before dawn. By sunrise Mrrov will be waiting with others at Altar place, and Vykk and Muuurgh must be ready with ship!”
“Okay, okay, pal. Calm down.” Han tried to think what had to be done first. “You’ve caught me by surprise here, and I need a second to unscramble my brain. First things first. We’ll need some blasters.
Five or six of ‘em. You used to live in the guards’ barracks. Think you can sneak in and get ‘em?”
Muuurgh nodded. “Yessss … I will get five or six blasters.”
“If I were you, I’d swipe ‘em from the Gamorreans. They’re dumb as a box of rocks, and they sleep like logs.”
Muuurgh’s whiskers twitched with amusement. “Yessss …”
“Okay, then. Meet me in front of the Administration Center in half an hour.”
With a final nod, Muuurgh melted into the underbrush.
Han headed for the Administration Center. First item on his agenda was to knock out the Colony’s comm units. He didn’t want anyone summoning reinforcements from the other colonies, or warning them that there was trouble afoot.
When the Corellian reached the comm center, he dug in his pocket for the scrap of flimsy that Bria had given him containing all of the security codes she’d gained from her foray into Teroenza’s mind. There was the code for Teroenza’s personal yacht, Talisman, the ship Han planned to use for their getaway. There was the code for Teroenza’s private living quarters, and the code for the collection room. And’ there was also the code for the operations center that contained the Colony’s generators, the base security viewscreens, the droid repair shop, the weapons lockers, and the comm unit.
Han tiptoed through the quiet hallways, wondering if he’d catch a glimpse of Muuurgh on his errand, but he saw not a flicker of motion.
By now he knew enough about the security layout of Colony One to automatically avoid the bored night guards—who were, most likely, from what he’d seen on his previous forays, asleep at their posts.
It seemed an eternity before he reached the operations center, but finally he was there, entering Bria’s code. With a soft electronic hum, the door swung open. “That’s my girl,” Han muttered as he crept inside.
There was a guard stationed there, as Han had known there would be. A Twi’lek, asleep in the chair, feet propped up on the communit console, head-tails dangling behind him like two ropes of pallid flesh.
Resounding snores vibrated through the still air.
Han drew his blaster, changed the setting to STUN, and squeezed the trigger. A blue, circular burst erupted, enveloping the guard. The Twi’lek jerked once, then collapsed bonelessly into the chair, looking exactly the same—except the snores had stopped. “That’s a definite plus,” Han muttered, holstering his gun.