“You mean all that stuff about Ackbar’s family?” Lando asked, standing up.
“Right,” Han said, heading back toward the Falcon’s hatchway. “If I’m reading Winter right, it sounds like Fey’lya has started a major push toward Ackbar’s territory. Come on, Threepio-you need to lock up behind us.”
“Captain Solo, I must once again protest this whole arrangement,” the droid said plaintively, scuttling up behind Han. “I really feel that to impersonate Princess Leia-“
“All right, all right,” Han cut him off. “As soon as we get back, I’ll have Lando undo the programming.”
“It’s over already?” Lando asked, pushing past Threepio to join Han at the lock. “I thought you told Winter-“
“That was for the benefit of anyone tapping in,” Han said. “As soon as we’ve worked through this contact, we’re going to head back. Maybe even stop by Kashyyyk on the way and pick up Leia.”
Lando whistled softly. “That bad, huh?”
“It’s hard to say, exactly,” Han had to admit as he slapped the release. The ramp dropped smoothly down to the dusty permcrete beneath them. “That ‘staying up late to read’ is the part I don’t understand. I suppose it could mean some of the intelligence work that Ackbar’s been doing along with the Supreme Commander position. Or worse-maybe Fey’lya’s going for the whole sabacc pot.”
“You and Winter should have worked out a better verbal code,” Lando said as they started down the ramp.
“We should have worked out a verbal code, period,” Han growled back. “I’ve been meaning for three years to sit down with her and Leia and set one up. Never got around to it.”
“Well, if it helps, the analysis makes sense,” Lando offered, glancing around the docking pit. “It fits the rumors I’ve heard, anyway. I take it the neighbors you referred to are the Empire?”
“Right. Winter should have heard something about it if Ackbar had had any luck plugging the security leaks.”
“Won’t that make it dangerous to go back, then?” Lando asked as they started toward the exit.
“Yeah,” Han agreed, feeling his lip twist. “But we’re going to have to risk it. Without Leia there to play peacemaker, Fey’lya might just be able to beg or bully the rest of the Council into giving him whatever it is he wants.”
“Mmm.” Lando paused at the bottom of the ramp leading to the docking pit exit and looked up. “Let’s hope this is the last contact in the line.”
“Let’s hope first that the guy shows,” Han countered, heading up the ramp.
The Abregado-rae Spaceport had had a terrible reputation among the pilots Han had flown with in his smuggling days, ranking right down at the bottom with places like the Mos Eisley port on Tatooine. It was therefore something of a shock, though a pleasant one, to find a bright, clean cityscape waiting for them when they stepped through the landing pit door. “Well, well,” Lando murmured from beside him. “Has civilization finally come to Abregado?”
“Stranger things have happened,” Han agreed, looking around. Clean and almost painfully neat, yet with that same unmistakable air that every general freight port seemed to have. That air of the not-entirely tame …
“Uh-oh,” Lando said quietly, his eyes on something past Han’s shoulder. “Looks like someone’s just bought the heavy end of the hammer.”
Han turned. Fifty meters down the port perimeter street, a small group of uniformed men with light-armor vests and blaster rifles had gathered at one of the other landing pit entrances. Even as Han watched, half of them slipped inside, leaving the rest on guard in the street. “That’s the hammer, all right,” Han agreed, craning his neck to try and read the number above the door. Sixty-three. “Let’s hope that’s not our contact in there. Where are we meeting him, anyway?”
“Right over there,” Lando said, pointing to a small windowless building built in the gap between two much older ones. A carved wooden plank with the single word “LoBue” hung over the door. “We’re supposed to take one of the tables near the bar and the casino area and wait. He’ll contact us there.”
The LoBue was surprisingly large, given its modest street front, extending both back from the street and also into the older building to its left. Just inside the entrance were a group of conversation-oriented tables overlooking a small but elaborate dance floor, the latter deserted but with some annoying variety of taped music playing in the background. On the far side of the dance floor were a group of private booths, too dark for Han to see into. Off to the left, up a few steps and separated from the dance floor by a transparent etched plastic wall, was the casino area. “I think I see the bar up there,” Lando murmured. “Just back of the sabacc tables to the left. That’s probably where he wants us.”