Han looked at his friend in mild surprise. He’d had the same idea a couple of hours ago, but hadn’t figured on Lando going for it. “You think your professional gambler’s pride can take that kind of beating?”
Lando looked him straight in the eye. “If it’ll get me out of here and back to my mining operation, my pride can take anything.”
Han grimaced. He sometimes forgot that he’d kind of dragged Lando into all of this. “Yeah,” he said. “Sorry. Okay, tell you what. We’ll give the Saffkin Room one last look. If he’s not there, we’ll come back here and-“
He broke off. There on the bar, in front of an empty seat, was a tray with a still-smoldering cigarra sitting in it. A cigarra with an unusual but very familiar aroma to it:
“Uh-oh,” Lando said quietly at his shoulder.
“I don’t believe it,” Han said, dropping his hand to his blaster as he threw a quick look around the crowded room.
“Believe it, buddy,” Lando said. He touched the cushion of the vacant seat. “It’s still warm. He must be-there he is.”
It was Niles Ferrier, all right, standing beneath the ornate shimmerglass exit archway, another of his ever present cigarras gripped between his teeth. He grinned at them, made a sort of mock salute, and disappeared out the door.
“Well, that’s just great,” Lando said. “Now what?”
“He wants us to follow him,” Han said, throwing a quick glance around them. He didn’t see anyone he recognized, but that didn’t mean anything. Ferrier’s people were probably all around them. “Let’s go see what he’s up to.”
“It could be a trap,” Lando warned.
“Or he could be ready to deal,” Han countered. “Keep your blaster ready.”
“No kidding.”
They were halfway to the archway when they heard it: a short, deep-toned thud like a distant crack of thunder. It was followed by another, louder one, and then a third. The conversational din of the casino faltered as others paused to listen; and as they did so, the Coral Vanda seemed to tremble a little.
Han looked at Lando. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” he muttered.
“Turbolaser bursts hitting the water,” Lando murmured grimly. “Ferrier’s dealing, all right. Only not with us.”
Han nodded, feeling a hard knot settle into his stomach. Ferrier had gone ahead and made a deal with the Empire : and if the Imperials got their hands on the Katana fleet, the balance of power in the ongoing war would suddenly be skewed back in their favor.
And under the command of a Grand Admiral :
“We’ve got to find that ship dealer, and fast,” he said, hurrying toward the exit. “Maybe we can get him out in an escape pod or something before we’re boarded.”
“Hopefully, before the rest of the passengers start panicking,” Lando added. “Let’s go.
They’d made it to the archway when their time ran out. There was a sudden thunderclap, not distant this time but seemingly right on top of them, and for a second the coral reef outside the transparent hull lit up with an angry green light. The Coral Vanda lurched like a wounded animal, and Han grabbed at the edge of the archway for balance-Something caught his arm and pulled hard, yanking him out of the archway to his right. He grabbed reflexively for his blaster, but before he could draw it strong furry arms wrapped around his chest and face, pinning his gun hand to his side and blotting out all view of the sudden panic in the corridor. He tried to shout, but the arm was blocking his mouth as well as his eyes. Struggling uselessly, swearing under what breath he could get, he was hauled back was down the corridor. Two more thunderclaps came, the second nearly throwing both him and his attacker off their feet. A change of direction sideways-his elbow banged against the side of a doorway-A hard shove and he was free again, gasping for breath. He was in a small drinks storage room, with crates of bottles lining three of the walls almost to the ceiling. Several had already been knocked to the floor by the Coral Vanda’s lurching, and out of one of them a dark red liquid was oozing.
Lounging beside the door, grinning again, was Ferrier. “Hello, Solo,” he said. “Nice of you to drop in.”
“It was too kind an invitation to turn down,” Han said sourly, looking around. His blaster was hovering in front of a stack of crates two meters away, right in the middle of a thick and strangely solid shadow.
“You remember my wraith, of course,” Ferrier said blandly, gesturing at the shadow. “He’s the one who sneaked up onto the Lady Luck’s ramp to plant our backup homing beacon. The one inside the ship.”