Star Wars: The New Rebellion (31 page)

“Tell me what Nandreeson wants with me,” Han said. “The truth.”

Iisner climbed onto the door, and leaned against the wall. Smoke floated out of his nostrils. He looked beaten. “He wanted to use you to get to Calrissian.”

“Lando?”

Iisner nodded. “He figured if you were here, Calrissian wasn’t far behind.”

“Sometimes Nandreeson lives in the past,” Han said. “Lando and I are rarely in the same place at the same time.”

More scales flaked off Iisner’s skin. “I need a water bath.”

“One more question,” Han said, “then you can go to your own people. Who’s behind all the credits that have come into the Run?”

“Not Nandreeson,” Iisner said. His voice was weak. Small flames burned through his teeth, as if he couldn’t control them. “Nandreeson hates this.”

“So why doesn’t he stop it?”

“It’s too big to stop.” Iisner raised a small hand. “I need care, Solo.”

“All right,” Han said, motioning to the door with his blaster. “Get out of here.”

Iisner made his way cautiously across the cooling floor. When he reached the door, Han shoved the blaster against his back. “You forgot to name the credit source.”

“You won’t believe it, Solo.”

“Try me.”

Iisner whirled his big head and opened his long mouth. Flame started beneath the teeth, and then a blaster bolt hit Iisner in the throat. Iisner fell back, eyes open, clearly dead.

Han turned.

Davis was standing in the hall, wearing a pair of protected mining boots, and still holding his blaster.

“What the hell were you doing?” Han asked.

“He was going to kill you.”

“He was going to talk to me.”

Davis shook his head. “Glottalphibs are hard to kill, Solo. He was going to fry you now, ask questions later, then take the
Falcon
to Skip 6 so that Calrissian would think you were there.”

“How do you know?” Han asked.

“Because I’ve seen them do this before,” Davis said. “They let their prey think they’re dying, and then they’ll go in for the kill. You’d have been fried consort if I hadn’t stepped in.”

“Or maybe I’d have been just a little bit wiser,” Han said. “Mighty convenient of you to kill Iisner at that moment. Who are you working for, Davis?”

“Myself, Solo.”

“Yourself and who else?” Han had turned so his blaster was on Davis.

Davis noted the move. He set his own blaster down.
Slowly. Then he rose just as slowly, keeping his hand flat, showing that he was unarmed. “I don’t work for anyone.”

“Right,” Han said. “So what are you doing here?”

Davis swallowed. He had his hands up, just as he had when Iisner had the blaster on him. “A buddy of mine was killed on Skip 5. I’m trying to find out why.”

“Nice try.” The floor looked cool now. Han put a booted foot on it. It was cool. “In fact, excellent try. You knew I would be real sympathetic to that one. But it was a little too obvious. Try again.”

Davis shook his head. “I’m being straight with you, Solo. My friend died in an explosion on the bay just days before you got here.”

“And you’re a good guy, trying to solve the mystery, at no cost to yourself.” Han brought the other foot down. It felt good to be standing again.

“Just like you, Solo.”

“You seem to know a lot about me.”

Davis nodded. “I knew that you were coming here. Just like Nandreeson’s people. Everyone’s watching you, Solo. They expect you to betray the Run somehow.”

Han tightened his grip on his blaster. “This isn’t about me. We were discussing you. And what you’re doing here.”

“I—ah—I actually came here to meet you.”

“To Skip 5?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought your buddy was killed here.”

“He was,” Davis said. “But I already looked into that. It seemed like an accident, but there’ve been a lot of accidents like that. Too many, I think. And when I heard you were here to investigate a buddy’s death, then I thought maybe—”

“I’m not investigating anybody’s death,” Han said. “I’m here because Jarril asked me to come.”

“And where is he?” Davis asked.

Seluss chittered. Han looked over his shoulder. Seluss’s round head had bandages wrapped loosely around it. Chewie stood behind him, some of his fur matted down with burn cream.

“See?” Davis said. “Even your Sullustan friend says Jarril is dead, and he should know.”

“He doesn’t know,” Han said. “He’s working on supposition, just like the rest of us. Which reminds me, Seluss. How did you get into the
Falcon
? Better yet, how did Iisner get in?”

Seluss chittered, and as he did, he backed up, his paws raised in a defensive posture as if he believed Han would hit him. Chewie blocked Seluss’s backward movements.

“You came back against my orders,” Han said, “using codes from Jarril’s ship?” That meant Jarril still had the
Spicy Lady
. Han could put a trace on it, to see if Jarril was somewhere nearby.

Seluss chittered again, repeating that it wasn’t his fault.

“Sure,” Han said. “A Glottalphib just happened to follow you in.” He sighed. “This partnership isn’t working out, Seluss.”

Seluss chittered some more.

“When we get to Skip 1, you’re going to the infirmary, and I’m getting out of here.”

“Let’s not be so quick to decide that,” Davis said. “I would like your help.”

“Oh, yeah,” Han said. “You have a murder to solve.”

“I need a ship,” Davis said. “I want to hire yours.”

Han smiled. “I haven’t hired the
Falcon
out in years, kid. I’m not about to do it now. And you could find a less conspicuous ship.”

“I want the
Falcon
,” Davis said. “I need the New Republic’s support behind me. I need it if I’m going to take you to the supplier.”

Han studied him for a moment. Davis was young, but not too young. He’d clearly been around. And he was lying. Han could feel it.

“No,” Han said. “Now take your Glottalphib and get off my ship.”

“He’s not my Glottalphib,” Davis said.

“He is now. Door prize. Take him and get out.”

“Listen, Solo, you need me. I know my way around the Run.”

“I’ve been here once or twice myself,” Han said. “Chewie and I do just fine. Now get off my ship before Chewie has to help you off.”

Davis opened his mouth as Chewie roared. Davis hurried toward Han. “All right. I’ll get off. But if you change your mind—”

“I won’t,” Han said. He hit the control panel, and the door slid up. Davis started to leave. “Remember your friend here.”

Davis flashed an angry look at Han, then grabbed Iisner by one limp arm. Davis dragged the dead Glottalphib off the
Falcon
. Han waited until the Glottalphib’s large feet were through the door before closing it.

Seluss was staring at him as if Han had just given away every credit he had ever owned.

“I know what I’m doing,” Han said.

Seluss chittered softly, then went into the cockpit. Chewie followed. Han holstered his blaster, trying to cool his temper. He didn’t need any reminding about their situation. Nandreeson would be after him for killing Iisner and the others. And Han was no closer to knowing who was behind all the credits than he had been before.

But he couldn’t trust Davis. Davis’s appearance was just too convenient. And Han hated the convenient.

Something was up. And with Nandreeson on his back, time had just gone from short to nonexistent.

“Okay,” Han said as he headed into the cockpit. “We’re going back to Skip 1.”

And maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to get some answers.

The stench got him first. Fetid and sour, it smelled like standing water combined with rotted vegetation and rotten eggs. Lando walked between seven Reks. Instead of tying him, they wrapped their whiplike arms around his, holding him back. Their skin felt like lukewarm rubber, yet he could feel the life pulsing through them. Until this trip, he had never been so close to a Rek. They had brought him in their small, bubblelike ship, crossing the distance between the asteroids as if it were a highway on Coruscant. They had disembarked into this chamber, which felt less like a cavern and more like a tropical nightmare.

The air was so humid that it condensed on his skin and made his clothes feel clammy. Water dripped down the cavern walls. Insects combed the area. Flies buzzed past him, and small clusters of gnats created black spots in the air. The Reks led him along a narrow ledge that overlooked a stagnant pool. Beneath the waters surface, he could see carved stairs and moss-coated furniture. This part of the cavern was surprisingly empty, but he knew that somewhere ahead, Nandreeson waited for him.

Then the Reks would collect their bounty and Lando would be abandoned with the most powerful crime lord on the Run. A crime lord who had hated him for nearly twenty years.

The ledge was slippery. Lando’s boots were made for metal floors, not water-and-slime-covered rock. The Reks helped him keep his balance, but if they let go, he
might fall into the green-coated water. The thought made him shudder.

They rounded a corner and were suddenly in a closed chamber. Chairs were carved into the rock on the walls. Flies the size of Lando’s thumb clung to the ropy moss on the wall closest to Lando. More gnats hung in the air, and a group of water bugs skated across the surface of the water. The sulfur smell was stronger here, and it mixed with the faint tinge of ozone.

Nandreeson sat at the far end of the pool. Algae grew inches deep in the water around him, and giant lily pads covered his scaly body. The rocks on the wall behind him had singe marks.

Nandreeson hadn’t changed. His long green snout had fingernail-sized scales, and his eyes were too close together. The knobs on his forehead gave him a quizzical expression. His tiny hands floated on the water’s surface, beside the lily pads. The scales on his chest were golden because they were wet. He appeared to be sitting on a couch under the water.

“Calrisssssssian,” Nandreeson said with a smile, letting steam rise from his mouth as he spoke the sibilants. “You look prosperous.”

“I look like I’m wrapped in rubber vines,” Lando said. Bravado at all costs. Nandreeson didn’t need to know that Lando’s heart was pounding double time.

“Ah, yes, my faithful Reks.” Nandreeson nodded at them. Lando could feel them back away from him. They were apparently afraid of the flames that could shoot from his mouth. “Toss Calrissian in the drink and go back to your ship. Your credits will be waiting for you.”

“No—!” Lando started, but the word wasn’t completely out of his mouth before he found himself airborne. The Reks tossed him high. He flew into a swarm of gnats, and half of them got into his mouth, choking him. He was spitting them out as he hit the water.

It was hot and slimy and it tasted of doughy bread. He sank quickly, scraping against the moss-covered rocks, and feeling the heat grow the deeper he went. A bubble rose past him, and he realized with sudden fear that this pond was fueled by an underwater heat source, one that he was sliding into.

He flapped his arms, and got caught in his cape. Panic. Panic. Panic will kill you, he thought to himself. His chest ached with the need to breathe. He could last. He knew he could last. He reached up and unfastened his cape. It slid into the hole where the bubble had emerged from, but he could move now. He tilted his head. Light filtered in from the lamps on the cavern’s ceiling. He swam up toward it. His lungs burned with the need for air, his arms ached, and black spots danced before his eyes. That moment of panic had cost him a lot of air. He didn’t think he would make it when he suddenly broke the surface, spewing foul-tasting water out his mouth and taking deep breaths.

Somehow he had twisted around. Nandreeson was behind him, and on the side of the cavern, six Glottalphibs sat, their large feet soaking in the water. Their mouths were open and they were grinning.

At him.

“What are you staring at?” he asked, his brain too addled to think of a better insult.

“Why, you, human,” Nandreeson said from behind him. “I never realized you creatures had such a low tolerance for water.”

“Liar.” Lando was treading water. He turned slowly so that he could face Nandreeson. “And this isn’t water. This is liquid slime.”

Nandreeson’s tiny eyes were following Lando’s every move. “This,” he said with considerable pride, “is the product of years of experimentation. I can only hope that
your body chemistry hasn’t ruined the delicate balance of my pool.”

“You should have thought of that before you had the rubber men toss me in here,” Lando said. He looked at the sides of the pond. The rocks were higher than his head and covered with a greenish moss that looked extremely slippery. The only stairs were near the door on the far side of the pool, past the guards. It didn’t matter. He wanted to save his strength, not tread water until his energy gave out.

He turned and flutter-kicked behind him, beginning the neat crawl that he had learned as a boy. A huge flame seared the water in front of him. Steam rose, blinding him, and the heat burned him. He stopped.

“Ah, Calrissian. You see the price of disobeying me.”

“You never said that I had to stay in this mud hole.” Lando kicked away from the steaming water, and moved closer to Nandreeson.