Star Wars - The Trouble With Squibs Read online

  Beyond the end of the concourse shimmered the lights of Pavo Prime, a twinkling reef of undersea glitz that lured gamblers and fish-watchers alike to the jewel-blue waters of the galaxy’s most dazzling casino world. A school of golden moonmouths was kissing their way along the exterior of the viewing wall, oblivious to the toothy culkuda grinning at them from beneath a blinkboard vaunting high payoffs at the StarUrchin. Of the hundreds of beings riding the slidewalk, no more than a handful would recognize the irony in what they were seeing, Pavo Prime was one giant feeding shoal, and the favorite prey did not breathe water.

  Han Solo was one of the few who understood exactly what he saw - and he loved it. A trip to Pavo Prime could be like taking all the exciting parts of life and compressing them into a few short days of chance and glitter. It made him feel alive in the same way that running an Imperial blockade did, except that it was a lot easier to walk away when things went bad - not that he expected anything to go bad on this trip. With the prettiest ambassador in the galaxy at his side and ten thousand spare credits in his pocket, how could it?

  The slidewalk entered a noisy transit terminal packed with a hundred different species of tourists. Most were tugging large repulsorlift luggage sleds and more interested in the moonmouths outside than in the touts and pickpockets quietly sizing them up. Han took Leia by the arm and angled for a holographic banner that read PRIVATE LUXSUB. Because they were trying to keep a low profile, Chewbacca and C-3PO were following with three luggage sleds twenty paces behind, far enough away that they would not draw attention to the Solos.

  Han and Leia were halfway to the holobanner when a beak-mouthed Ishi Tib fixed her eyestalks on them. Though Leia wore a pair of false white eyebrows, white contact lenses, and a stylish mirrcloth veil, Han was not all that surprised when the Ishi Tib continued to stare. Leia’s eyes were among the most beautiful in the galaxy, and it would take more than a change of color and a pair of synthetic brows to change that.

  The Ishi Tib started toward them. “Say, aren’t you-”

  “No.” Leia swung her small shoulder satchel between them. “You’re mistaking me for someone else. It happens all the time.”

  The Ishi Tib crinkled her leathery face. “You’re sure? Your voice sounds-”

  “I’m sure.” Leia grabbed Han by the arm and started in the opposite direction, then whispered, “Tell me again why we couldn’t use a private berth?”

  “Because private berths are for high rollers, and we don’t happen to have a million credits in flash money.” Han’s disguise was simpler than Leia’s, a false goatee and a dapper prow-hat that so far had not drawn a second glance. “And even if we did, hitting the sabacc tables with that kind of bank wouldn’t put this Ludlo Lebauer in a very charitable mood. Casino bosses hate to lose big.”

  Leia raised a false eyebrow. “Pretty sure of yourself, Flyboy,”

  “I’m banned in half the casinos on Pavo Prime,” Han said proudly. “Ask Chewie about the time I broke the bank at the Seahorse.”

  “The Seahorse? There isn’t any Seahorse Casino.”

  Han smiled. ‘That’s my point.”

  “If you say so.” Leia rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Please don’t break Lebauer’s casino until after he gives me the boasas.”

  “That depends,” Han said.

  “On what?”

  “On how nicely you ask.”

  As much as Han was looking forward to their holiday on Pavo Prime, it had been Leia who suggested the trip. New Republic Intelligence - NRI - had stumbled across a set of ten Alderaanian boasa statues that had been off world when the Death Star blasted the planet into so much dust, and Leia was fiercely determined to preserve the boasas for future generations of Alderaanians. Given that the statues were currently owned by a casino boss - and that Leia had nothing to bargain with but her quick wit - Han put their chances at somewhere between tiny and nonexistent.

  Still, he would not have bet against her - he had seen Leia do the impossible too often to ever count her out. Besides, he was glad to be on a mission that did not involve saving the New Republic, Han was as happy as the next guy to do his part, but once in a while it was nice to go on a simple, ordinary business trip.

  The crowd of tourists began to thicken, slowing progress through the terminal to a crawl. Worried that they would grow too far separated from their companions, Han turned to wave Chewbacca forward and saw a pair of meter-high rodents slipping toward him through the forest of legs. With pointed muzzles, tufted ears, arid deep brown eyes, they were almost as cute as baby Wookiees - and twice as much trouble. The instant they saw Han watching them, they flashed toothy white grins and raised their small hands in greeting.

  Han spun in the opposite direction, pulling Leia after him, and began to shoulder through the crowd, “Don’t look now,” he muttered, “but we’ve got trouble.”

  Leia did not look. “What is it? Bounty hunters? Assassins?” Her hand dropped toward the holdout blaster hidden in her dress pocket. “Old buddies?”

  “Worse,” Han said. “Squibs.”

  Leia’s fingers dug into Han’s arm, “Not-”

  “Afraid so.” Ignoring the trail of indignant protests they were leaving in their wake, Han pulled Leia pasta pair of blue-skinned Duros and saw the luxsub booking counter ahead. “Sligh and Emala.”

  “What about Grees?”

  “Didn’t see him.”

  “Oh,” Leia said. “That’s bad. Very bad.”

  “Yeah.”

  They had met Grees, Sligh, and Emala on Tatooine a few months earlier, on a trip to recover another of Alderaanian’s surviving masterpieces. The debacle that followed had not been entirely the fault of the Squibs, but their “help” had certainly complicated the situation. The last thing Han - or Leia - wanted was another entanglement with those three. The trip to Pavo Prime was, after all, supposed to be more pleasure than business.

  Han angled toward the only empty service post where a silver vending droid with darkened photoreceptors stood beside a closed access gate. Overhead, a gold holobanner flashed, JAIJAY LUXSUBS, SORRY - ALL CRAFT BOOKED.

  Han banged his palm on the counter. “Wake up, pal.”

  The droid’s photoreceptors brightened. “Good day, sir. I’m afraid-”

  “I can read,” Han said, eyeing the hatch behind the counter, “You have a private docking salon?”

  “Of course,” the droid said. “But all of our craft are out on hour-hires. It’s quite impossible to say when one might be available.”

  Han glanced over his shoulder and saw that the Squibs were coming up fast, still grinning and waving, and taking full advantage of their size to dodge toward him. A few paces behind, Chewbacca’s furry form towered above the crowd, his eyes fixed on the JaiJay holobanner and his head cocked in puzzlement. Obviously, he had not yet seen the Squibs.

  Han slapped a credit-chip on the counter and turned back to the droid. “Subcontract with another line, We’ll pay double.”

  The droid glanced at the adjacent queues, which, though long, were moving quickly. “But it would be more economical-”

  “He said to subcontract,” Leia insisted. “We’d like to go through JaiJay; you’re noted for your excellent customer service.”

  “I wasn’t aware of that.” The droid read the credit-chip, then the access gate opened. “But we are improving, JaiJay wishes you the best of luck during your stay.”

  Han pointed toward Chewbacca and instructed the droid to admit only the Wookiee and his droid companion, then retrieved his credit-chip and followed Leia through the access gate.

  The interior of the docking salon was roomy and well appointed, with a double row of bodyform chairs, a v
idwall advertising Pavo Prime’s many different attractions, and - next to the boarding hatch - an observation bubble with a view of the underwater city that went down easily a full kilometer. Although casino lights glimmered all the way to the bottom, submarines could be seen only in the top two hundred meters; beyond that depth, running lights attracted too many big predators.

  Barely giving the scene a second glance, Leia stared at the hatch through which they had come.

  “What are the Squibs doing on Pavo Prime?”

  “Do you really want to know?” Han countered.

  “No,” Leia said. “But we didn’t just bump into them. The galaxy isn’t that small.”

  “They must have done pretty well after we left Tatooine,” Han suggested. “Maybe they’re just here to spend some money.”

  Leia looked at him doubtfully. “Squibs?”

  “Or maybe they heard a bout the boasa statues,” Han admitted. Of all the art pieces that had been off world at the time of Alderaan’s destruction, the boasa statues were the oldest and most mysterious, for they had been created by the mysterious Killiks who inhabited Alderaan long before humans arrived. “Maybe they’re here to buy the boasas.”

  “And which do you think makes more sense?”

  Before Han could answer, the hatch opened and Chewbacca and C-3PO arrived with the luggage sleds. Chewbacca scowled out the observation bubble and, seeing no luxsub waiting to pick them up, turned to Han and groaned.

  “Of course I saw the sign,” Han glanced through the open hatch and, finding no sign of Emala or Sligh, turned back to Chewbacca. “I just wanted to lose the Squibs.”

  The fur rose along Chewbacca’s spine, and C-3PO asked, “Squibs? Here?”

  “So you didn’t see them?” Leia addressed this to Chewbacca.

  The Wookiee shook his head.

  “Well, that’s something. Maybe we lost them.” Leia checked her chronometer and turned to Han. “We need to find a way to the Pearl Island Casino. Lebauer is expecting us in thirty minutes, and it won’t help our cause to be late.”

  “I see no reason we should be late at all, Princess Leia,” C-3PO said. “Here’s our ride now.”

  Han turned to see a conch-shaped luxsub drifting up to the docking hatch, a bulbous-eyed Mon Calamari visible in the pilot’s dome. The sign on the hull read, “If You Want Style, You Want Pink Conch.”

  Chewbacca roawwled a question.

  “Yeah, that was fast,” Han said.

  He sealed the salon’s interior hatch, and then waited with the others as the luxsub docked and equalized pressure. When the salon’s exterior hatch opened, they found themselves looking into a passenger cabin with pink velvet seats, pink refreshment decanters, and pink-tinted viewports.

  “It looks like a Hutt’s throat in there,” Leia said. She turned to Han. “Maybe we should swim.”

  “Swim?” C-3PO repeated. “I really don’t think that Is a very good idea. I would sink like-”

  “Relax, Threepio.” Han pushed his head through the hatch and, aside from the decor, saw nothing unusual. “It’s a joke.”

  They all climbed inside and sealed the hatch, then the luxsub executed a slow turn past the StarUrchin blinkboard, allowing the passengers a close view of the bony culkuda-head grinning out from beneath the sign. Han gave the pilot their destination, and it was not long before they were angling toward a mountain-shaped casino with a giant palm-and-pearl marquee glowing atop the summit.

  A hundred meters later, Leia let out a sigh of relief. ‘That wasn’t so hard after all. When you said Squibs, I thought we’d be stuck with them.”

  “Not on this trip,” Han closed his eyes and rubbed his fingertips together, as though he were willing a chip-card to change suits for him. “I’d blast them first.”

  A soft pop sounded across from Han, and he opened his eyes to discover that a seat cushion next to C-3PO had lifted up, revealing a pair of black nostrils and two big brown eyes.

  “That hurts my feelings. Solo, it really does,” said a small squeaky voice. “Is that how you treat all your friends?”

  Chewbacca bellowed an objection, and the startled pilot nearly dived into a passing blottal before he could bring them back on course. The Squib gave Chewbacca an evil stare.

  “Do I deserve that?” The Squib turned to C-3PO. “And do you mind, chiphead? You’re sitting on Emala.”

  “Oh dear!” C-3PO stood. “I beg your pardon.”

  As the two Squibs clambered out of the storage compartments beneath the seats, Han kept an eye on Leia, ready to grab her arm if she reached for her pocket holster. The truth was that he felt like blasting the pair himself, but there were laws against that sort of thing even on Pavo Prime. It would not be fair to say that the Squibs were responsible for what Leia had lost on Tatooine, but they had certainly profited from it.

  Once the Squibs had extracted themselves and lowered the seats again, Leia asked, “What are you two doing here?”

  “Giving you a ride,” the female - Emala - said. “You didn’t make it easy.”

  “There’s a reason,” Han said. He was relieved to hear the anger in Leia’s tone; she didn’t grow really dangerous until her feelings became unreadable, “Like maybe we’re here on vacation. Maybe we don’t want to have anything to do with you.”

  “Vacation?” Emala rolled her eyes, then reached over and turned off the intercom. “Since when do the Solos take vacations?”

  “You’re here on a mission,” Sligh said, turning to Leia. “Who do you think told New Republic Intelligence about Lebauer’s boasa statues in the first place?”

  Han glanced over at Leia.

  She shrugged. “The liaison officer would only say the information came from a reliable source.”

  “That’s us,” Sligh said cheerily. “Reliable. You know we’d never try to put anything over on you. You’re much too smart.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Han said. “Where’s Grees? Trying to break into the Falcon?”

  Sligh and Emala glanced at each other uncomfortably, and their eyes grew so sad and watery that Han instantly regretted the tone of the question,

  “Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know. The last time we saw you, everything was-”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Emala sniffed and ran her palm over her nostrils, “There’s no need to concern yourself with our feelings. We’re not here for your sympathy.”

  ‘Then you’re smarter than I thought,” Leia said. “So why are you here?”

  “A business prop-”

  “Forget it,” Leia said.

  Sligh scowled. “But you haven’t even heard-”

  “Don’t need to,” Han said. “Nobody burns us twice.”

  “Burn you? Is that what you think?” Emala wrinkled her nose in contempt. “And I thought Han Solo was a player.”

  “Give it up,” Leia said. “I’m not letting you near those boasa statues.”

  Sligh looked at the ceiling and rolled his eyes. “What makes you think we want the boasa statues? If we wanted the boasa statues, would we have told NRI about them?”

  “The statues are your payoff,” Emala added. “They’re what we’re offering,”

  “That’s rich,” Han said. “Last I checked, they didn’t belong to you.”

  “But we’re the ones who made sure you knew about them,” Sligh protested. “I’m surprised by your lack of gratitude.”

  “And you do need us,” Emala added. “Ludlo Lebauer is a rough character. If you want to get those boasas from him, you need every advantage you can get. You need to know the situation.”

  Leia appeared to consider this, and Han began to have visions of great sabacc hands going unplayed. He was about to caution Leia against falling for their bait when she did.

  “Information is good,” she said, “as long as it’s accurate. You’d have to convince me yours is.”

  Emala looked to Sligh.

  Sligh nodded, “Tell her. But she has to hear us out.” He caught Han’s gaze and h
eld it. “What else do you have to do? It’s a long ride to the Pearl.”

  “We’re listening.” Han started to help himself to one of the pink refreshments - then thought better of it. “For now.”

  Emala smiled. “And you’ll be glad you did. How much do you know about how Lebauer came by the statues?”

  “I was informed that Threkin Horm surrendered the boasas to satisfy a gambling debt,” Leia said. They had discovered on Tatooine that Horm - the president of the Alderaaniari Council - was illegally auctioning the very heritage he was charged with safeguarding, “The damage that man caused. If he weren’t dead already, I’d strangle him myself.”

  “You might have to wait in line,” Emala replied. “Horm owed everyone on Pavo Prime. To keep the boasas together, Ludlo Lebauer had to pay everyone else out of his own pocket.”

  “I hope you brought a freighter full of credits.” Sligh sard.

  “What we brought or didn’t bring is none of your business.” Han had to resist the impulse to see if his credit-chip was still in his pocket; that was just the sort of cue the Squibs would be looking for, and he had seen on Tatooine how deft Emala’s fingers were. “Forget about ourcredits,all right?”

  Sligh raised his hands and turned his pink palms toward Han. “Easy, Slick. You know I wouldn’t pry - you’re too smart for that.”

  “Sligh was only saying that Lebauer won’t let those statues go cheap,” Emala offered.

  “Our offer will warrant his consideration, I assure you.”

  Leia managed to sound confident when Han knew she had to feel doubtful, for Emala had hit on the weak point of their plan. They had nothing to offer Lebauer except the promise of the galactic goodwill he would generate by returning the statues to the Alderaanian people. From what the Squibs were saying, that was going to be every bit the tough sell that Han had imagined - but if anyone could pull it off, Leia could.

  “How come you two know so much about Harm’s, problems, anyway?” she asked.

  Instead of answering, Sligh said, “Look, all you have to do is buy a piece for us, Second Mistake. You get to keep the boasas.”

  “Let me get this straight,” Han said. “We put up the money, do you a favor, and you let us keep our own boasas?”