Star Wars: Millennium Falcon Page 8

  Initially Jadak had refused the offer. Just because he was finished on the swoop and starship race circuit didn't mean he couldn't find piloting work with a police force, a security organization, or a private investigation firm. But as Palpatine's power increased and war began to seem inevitable, he had a change of heart. If nothing else, he could at least put his piloting abilities to some good use.

  And then there was that faster-than-all-get-out YT-1300 freighter the group had picked up somewhere …

  He remembered the prewar and war years, infiltrating the Metatheran Cartel and other crime organizations, the hundreds of trips to far-flung worlds, the encounters with arms merchants, spice dealers, CIS sympathizers … more often than not he didn't know what he was carrying or what he was delivering. He simply did as instructed, trusting that he was furthering the causes of the Senate Delegation of Two Thousand and the Jedi Order, fighting the war in his own fashion and taking care of his scattered family at the same time. With Reeze, also recruited by the group, Jadak had piloted the Stellar Envoy through the thick of some of the fiercest battles of the war—on Muunilist, Cato Neimoidia, and other worlds.

  With each session in the bacta tank, his actual memories began to resume chronological order. But he still couldn't recall events leading up to the accident. Some HoloNet entries listed his death as having occurred shortly before the official end of the Clone Wars. There were no facts about where his death was supposed to have occurred, but it was undeniable that in some sense he had died then.

  A few of the Republic Group Senators to whom he answered had survived to see the Alliance to Restore the Republic—the so-called Rebel Alliance—defeat the Empire, but all of them were now dead. Several had died as early as the Ghorman Massacre, and others were lost on Alderaan when it was destroyed by the Death Star. Many more died during the extended conflict with the Imperial warlords. Only a handful had died of natural causes.

  By his final sessions in the tank, Jadak was questioning the importance of recalling the details of the accident—especially now that a bigger question had begun to gnaw at him. With all the members of the Republic Group dead, who had been keeping him alive all these years … and why?

  HAN AND LANDO EXCHANGED VIGOROUS HANDSHAKES AND A warm back-clapping embrace. When it came to greeting Leia, Lando held her in his arms for a long moment, smiling roguishly when she finally pushed him away, shaking her head in amused disapproval.

  “The galaxy's one constant,” Tendra said, indicating her husband with a toss of her head and hugging Leia hello.

  “No,” Leia said, “I've got one of those, too.”

  The Calrissians were dressed casually, in loose-fitting pants, simple pullovers, and sandals, and for perhaps the first time in her life Leia felt overdressed in their presence.

  “And who is this gorgeous little creature?” Lando was saying, dropping down on one knee in front of Allana. “It can't be Amelia. Surely she hasn't grown up this much in only one year.”

  “Someone has to,” Allana said while Lando hugged her.

  “Hey,” he said with theatrical surprise. “Learning your dad's bad habits already?”

  “No, I come by them naturally.”

  Leia laughed with everyone else, relieved that the mere mention of the word dad didn't throw Allana into conflict. The Calrissians knew nothing about her secret paternity, and assumed, as most did, that Han and Leia had adopted her in part to offset their grief over the death of their second son. For a time, Allana had found it difficult to refer to Han and Leia as her parents, but she had since grown accustomed to doing so in mixed company.

  “Amelia, do you remember little Lando?” Three years old and all but a clone of his father, he was holding a toy dragon and dressed in the same outfit worn by Lando Senior.

  “Hi, Lando,” she said, going over to him. “Is that the dragon from Castle Creep?”

  The toddler nodded shyly. “Perystal.”

  “I watch that show, too! Is Perystal your favorite toy?”

  “I have a Prince Gothik.”

  “Wow. I used to have a stuffed tauntaun.”

  The boy ran to Lando and wrapped his arms around his father's legs. Lando bent down and scooped him up, beaming. “His nickname's Chance.” He tousled his son's curly hair. “He's my lucky star.”

  Han smiled, and Lando caught it. “Don't say it.”

  Han shrugged. “Hey, even Boba Fett's a grandfather.”

  Lando set Chance back on his feet, and the boy ran to Tendra. “Hello, Threepio,” Lando said straightening. “Good to see you.”

  “And you, sir,” C-3PO said. “If you don't mind my saying so, sir, your home is quite exquisite.”

  “This home,” Han corrected. “They got six of them. Or is it seven?”

  “Actually it's eight since we bought a small place on Kuat,” Lando said. “But this is becoming our favorite.”

  Leia could see why. Lujo was a gem of a world, the equatorial regions especially, where the climate was balmy year-round and the aqua ocean glinted under a golden sun. A cluster of beautifully appointed interconnected pavilions, the Calrissians' place was only a hundred meters from the sea and open to the cooling breeze.

  Outside of a brief get-together a year back, the last time Leia and Han had spent extended time with Lando was during the Alliance–Confederation War. Leia's Noghri protectors, Cakhmaim and Meewalh, had just lost their lives, and the Falcon, fired on by the Star Destroyer Anakin Solo, had lost both gun turrets and large sections of armor. At Tendrando Refueling and Repair Station in the Gyndine system—and at his own expense—Lando had had the Falcon rebuilt and had joined Han and Leia in executing a mission in Corellia, bowing out only when he'd received word that Tendra was pregnant.

  “What happened to the cane?” Han asked.

  Lando threw Tendra a look. “Someone convinced me it was an affectation. Made me look older than my years.”

  “At least she allowed you to keep the mustache,” Han said.

  Everyone laughed again. Last time, on Coruscant, Jacen had been the white bantha in the room, his actions during the war and his death too painful to discuss. The four of them had talked around those events, talked about anything but what had happened only two years earlier. It was different now. They had all moved on, a fact that was as disconcerting as it was comforting.

  “So what brings you to Lujo?” Lando asked.

  “We're on an adventure,” Allana announced.

  “Really? What sort of adventure?”

  “We're going to find all the people who ever owned the Millennium Falcon.”

  Lando turned to Han. “Is that right?”

  He nodded. “It's something I promised myself I would do one day, and there's time to do it now.”

  “Well, that's a grand adventure,” Lando said, turning back to Allana. “Did your dad tell you that I once owned the Falcon?”

  “Yep. He said he won it from you in a game of cards.”

  Lando put his tongue in his cheek. “More or less. But what's important is that I knew how much your dad loved the Falcon, and I had so many other ships, I decided to let him keep her.”

  Han cocked an eyebrow.

  “I can't even imagine where we'd all be now if it weren't for your dad and the Falcon,” Lando continued. “But I doubt he would have ended up marrying a princess and becoming a galactic hero.”

  Han had his mouth open to reply when a silver protocol droid stepped down onto the veranda. “Everything is prepared, Captain Calrissian.”

  “Captain?” Han said.

  “Of the good ship Windchaser,” Lando told him.

  “What d'you do, sell the Love Commander?”

  “She's not a starship, old buddy.” Lando pulled a billed cap from his pant pocket and slapped it down over his graying hair, tipping it at a jaunty angle. “We're all going sailing.”

  Han and Lando sat side by side on the catamaran's bridge, Lando with the old-fashioned wheel in hand, the main sails fluffed, iced drinks in the cu
p holders. The ship was doing a good speed through pellucid water, the sun brilliant gold and easing toward the horizon. To all sides rose steep-sided islands lush with foliage and rimmed with beaches of white sand.

  “I notice you've got an auxiliary motor,” Han said.

  “Solar. Imagine me becalmed.”

  “I can't.” Han peeled his shirt off and luxuriated in the warmth of the sun. “Nature's not so bad when you get used to it.” He gazed into the sky. “Amazing to think that people used to live like this.”

  “A lot still do. You could if you wanted to.”

  Han dismissed the idea. “You know me. I can't sit still.”

  Lando fell silent for a moment. “You two doing all right?”

  Han understood. “We're beginning to. I try not to think about it. Having Amelia's made a big difference.”

  “And Jaina?”

  “Doing well.”

  “Back in the fold?”

  “With one foot, anyway.”

  Lando didn't pursue the point. “You're on the level about tracing the history of the Falcon?”

  Han nodded. “It started out as Amelia's idea, but I'm all in now. It's something we can all do together, and while there's still a chance of locating some of the old owners. The guy you won her from, for instance—”

  “Cix Trouvee,” Lando said.

  “That's the name I've been trying to remember!”

  Lando snorted a laugh. “He had the wildest swings in luck. One year he'd be flush, the next he'd be pawning his chrono for a hot meal. Card players used to call him Glass Eye because once he began to lose you could practically read his mind. I don't have to tell you that that doesn't always mean much with sabacc, not with the randomizer, but when he was cornered you knew what his hole cards were. He was desperate when he used the Falcon as a marker. I actually felt bad about winning it—for about two heartbeats. Just the way I'm sure you felt when you took the Falcon from me.”

  Han loosed a plosive laugh. “I know you still believe I outplayed you, but I was as surprised as anyone that you were bluffing. You're just sorry about losing her.”

  Lando compressed his lips. “How many times do we have to go over this before you're willing to concede that you didn't win the Falcon, because I never bet her. I don't begrudge you winning the hand. I begrudge your claiming that you won her when my marker was simply for one of the ships on my lot. I could have reneged, you know. Anyone on Nar Shaddaa would have understood my side of it.”

  “There were plenty of witnesses who heard you say any ship on your lot.”

  Lando shook his head in irritation. “My biggest mistake was leaving the Falcon behind and trying to make an impression by arriving at Bespin on the Queen of Empire.”

  The glower they traded evaporated into laughter.

  “It's official,” Han said, wiping a tear from his eye, “we've both become a couple of old coots.”

  Lando nodded. “We'd better drop the subject before I capsize us.”

  “Good idea. But at least we can remember that far back.” Han paused. “You have any idea where Cix Trouvee is now?”

  “I actually heard from him when I was operating the Belt-Runner. I've no idea where he is now, but I'm sure we can find out.”

  “Lando,” Tendra called from the boat's spacious deck. “We want to go swimming.” She gestured to one of the islands.

  Lando saluted and turned the big wheel through his hands, making for an isolated cove.

  Han took a long pull from his drink glass and relaxed back into the padded chair. “I'm guessing business has been great.”

  “Not as good as you might think.” Lando sipped at an orange-colored concoction his protocol droid had whipped up. “Tendrando's facing a lot of competition all of a sudden. The Verpines, Mandalorians, even Baktoid and the Colicoid Nest are trying to get back in the droid market.”

  “The Colicoids.” Han shuddered. “I thought that bunch was forced to disband.”

  “They were, but Colla-Arphocc Automata has re-formed and petitioned the courts under some new fair-trade agreement. They claim to have documentation signed by Palpatine that they were only required to disarm for a certain period of time.”

  “The courts are willing to hear them out?”

  “If Daala had her way I think she'd eradicate all the insectoid species, but her hands are tied.”

  “Have you had any dealings with her?”

  “Some.”

  “And?”

  “She seems determined not to repeat past mistakes. She's not a dictator, and she doesn't appear to nurse any aspirations of becoming one. Star systems are putting aside their differences in the interest of forging an enduring peace. But that has less to do with Daala than the simple fact that there's nothing to be gained by isolationism. We've had fifty years of war and wobbling. The time's come to understand that what happens in the Core affects the outer systems, and what happens there affects the Core.”

  “So you're optimistic.”

  Lando wagged his head from side to side. “I've been fooled before. Daala's still an unknown quantity, and I'm not all that comfortable with her alliances with the Remnant and the Mandalorians.” He turned to look at Han. “A lot of folks are still wondering what possessed you to install Daala in the first place.”

  “Me, personally?”

  “We can start with you.”

  Han sniffed. “My daughter had just killed my surviving son, Lando. At that point nothing seemed insane.”

  “Even after what Daala did to you and Chewie way back when?”

  Han held his gaze. “We got even with her. Besides, if I'm going to list all the beings who've tortured me over the years I've got to include Leia's father in the mix, so what's the use? It is what it is.”

  “Not to the Mon Calamari. They'd sooner see a Yuuzhan Vong on Coruscant than a former war criminal. And from what I hear, the Jedi aren't too thrilled with her, either.”

  “Daala's feeling is that a just system doesn't need overseers, so Luke's not sure just where the Jedi stand anymore.” Han gazed out at the sea and inhaled deeply. “I try to stay out of it.”

  Lando spun the wheel. “I guess we're all looking for answers of a sort.”

  “That reminds me.” Han prised from his pocket the device Allana had discovered aboard the Falcon and held it up for Lando's inspection. “Ever seen anything like this?”

  Lando squinted. “Looks like some kind of comlink. Where'd you come by it?”

  “Amelia found it—aboard the Falcon.”

  Surprise shone in Lando's eyes. “I would have figured you knew every rivet by now.”

  “It was cached in the bulkhead behind the engineering station. I think the alloy has some mimetic properties, which is probably why I missed it.”

  “Couldn't be your eyes, huh?” Lando grinned.

  “Not likely, pal.”

  “Well, I sure didn't install it, so unless it got installed under your watch, it must have already been there when Cix owned the Falcon. Stands to reason that no one in the past fifty years would use something that old.”

  “That's what I'm thinking.”

  “Some of my techs are staying in the guest house. You could see what they have to say.”

  Han pocketed the device. “I'll do that.”

  Lando glanced at him. “You want to take the wheel for a while before we drop anchor?”

  “I'm game,” Han said.

  “THE ALLIANCE FOR THE RESTORATION OF THE REPUBLIC.”

  Jadak woke from tumultuous dreams with the words on his lips and a 2-1B med droid gazing at him from where it was standing at the monitoring device Sompa had yet to remove from the room.

  “Sir?” the droid said.

  Jadak stared.

  “You said, ‘The Alliance for the Restoration of the Republic.’ Is there more you wish to add?”

  Jadak ran a hand over his bearded chin and shook his head. “Did I say anything else in my sleep?”

  “Nothing intelligible, sir.�
�

  “Business as usual,” Jadak muttered.

  He swung off the bed and shuffled to a bedside mirrpanel the nurses had finally provided. Each morning he expected to see the reflection of a man who had climbed from a grave. Instead it was the same blond stranger who greeted him. He used the 'fresher and dressed and downed some of the breakfast a different droid delivered. Sompa had lifted the moratorium regarding the HoloNet, but Jadak found he had no stomach for it and left the room. Still growing accustomed to his new legs, he moved carefully through the hallways, exchanging greetings with other patients when he couldn't avoid them, but mostly wrapped up in his own thoughts and growing more agitated by the moment.

  Sompa had warned him to expect periods of frustration as his mind sought to reconstruct the chronology of his memories. But Jadak hadn't anticipated a physical response that sometimes made him want to put his fist through the nearest wall. He couldn't escape the feeling that he had left something important undone. He accepted that the feeling was probably linked to what had turned out to be his final mission for the Republic Group, but his frustration over not being able to retrieve the memory ran deep. As if recalling the mission and concluding it would somehow complete his recuperation and restore him fully to life.