I am slow...

Other people

Bracha e'Naso

She was a tiny, bit of a thing but she marched off her gem of a ship as if she was the Queen of Hapes. She said, "I'm Nyeve Antilles, Captain of the Solus Lily," as though her name alone granted her the right to march into any space station in the galaxy and demand attention.

Esau's Ridge was concealed within the deepest crevasse of the planet Tholatin. A very exclusive group of smugglers, perhaps a few hundred within the entire galaxy, knew of the smuggler's base. A formidable sanctuary, the Ridge was virtually undetectable from air and impossible to reach on foot. Sandstone catacombs and caves offered natural havens, and deep within, living areas and even entertainment areas were carved. TheRidge was also the de facto head of operations for theSmuggler's Liaison. Jobs came in and were parcelled out. Smugglers were free from Imperial entanglements, the chaos of major trading centres such as Abregado-rae, and the reach of the Hutts. Bracha e'Naso ran the tight-knit operations on Esau's Ridge and he made a habit of knowing everyone who flew into his hangars. He didn't know this woman, didn't know how she'd acquired the coordinates or the access codes, and he wasn't easily impressed by anyone, even if they carried him or herself with the air of a queen.

Now they stood in his office just off the grand catacomb that served as the Ridge's main hangar and he intended to get some answers.

"Who sent you?" he asked.

"No one," she exclaimed. "I'm looking for work,"

"I've got no work," he replied.

"I heard you do. Medical supplies to the Outer Rim settlements."

"Medical supplies," he repeated curiously. Those runs were low risk and low profit, and there wasn't much payoff unless a smuggler was in the business of helping people out of the goodness of their hearts. As it so happened, he'd been foisting the unpopular runs off his newest recruits. "Who told you that?"

"I'll take the jobs," she said.

"Like I said, I have no jobs to offer you."

"I'll still take them."

"Why, you're a presumptuous woman."

"Everyone needs to start somewhere," she said matter-of-factly. "Don't they?"

Most female smugglers were tall and accentuated their curves, but she'd covered herself up in a heavy over-sized flight jacket fastened from the jut of her chin to her knees. One side of her hair was tied back in a knot atop her head. The rest of it fell down ramrod straight over the faded jacket, dark as night. The accent was Coruscanti; her vowels rose before every consonant and were clearly pronounced and indicated that she was well educated. Her fingernails and cuticles were clean and scrubbed. She was nothing like the women from out here.

And she was staring at him straight on.

Bracha e'Naso would have grown to be a handsome man, but as a teenager, the right side of his face had taken the brunt of a blow from the poisoned talons of a desert dragon. Although there'd been a state-of-the-art medical facility within a day's journey from home, his parent's hadn't had the credits to pay for bacta treatment and skin grafts. Most of his adolescence had been spent learning to live with his scars and developing a thick skin.

"I like knowing where my smugglers find their sources," Bracha said gruffly, hand casually resting on his hip. "It makes me feel uncomfortable when I don't. It means my business is compromised and the livelihood of everyone who works here is compromised."

"You don't have a leak," she asserted.

"Your being here is evidence that I do."

"I can't reveal my sources." She took a step forward. "You don't have a leak. I can assure you of that."

"Captain Antilles-" Bracha crossed his arms. "If you don't have a name, I don't have any work for you." He waited. As soon as she confessed her source, she would escorted off base with the promise that next time she came flying within a thousand kilometres of Tholatin she would be shot down. That was merciful considering the beating he'd given to the last hotshot novice smuggler that had pulled a stunt like this. And her source, whoever he was, would be blacklisted from Esau's Ridge.

"I see." She swallowed tightly. Perhaps she read the threat in his eyes; perhaps she realised she'd pushed as far she could. "You're right. I should seek work elsewhere."

"Yes." With a flick of his index finger, Bracha summoned two menacing-looking Weequays from a darkened doorway. "Please escort the Captain to our prehistoric version of a brig. Let her out when she feels more communicative."

Before the sentence was out of his mouth, the woman whipped out a double-ended vibroblade. "You may as well send me on my way. It won't make a difference. I won't talk."

Bracha rolled his eyes. Hadn't anyone searched her? "You'll have learned a valuable lesson."

The vibroblade spun so that both razor sharp ends flashed. The Weequay hung back, waiting for further orders.

"Not to ask a man with an honest reputation for a job," she said. "Some lesson."

Bracha paused. Truth was he admired her guts. He was a good businessman who prided himself on being fair, and although he believed rights to work at Esau's Ridge had to be earned, he wasn't against giving the odd rookie a chance. If he could teach them and teach them well, it meant he was connected to the roots of his organisation. Besides, she was asking for the lowest paying job and she obviously knew how to keep her mouth shut. He'd already heard her ship was a beauty, the exterior was in tip-top shape, and it wouldn't hurt to have a smuggler who could fit in at a few of the finer worlds and look respectable.

"Maybe we can do some business together," he said. "If you put that thing away."

Slowly, she deactivated the weapon and tucked it under her jacket. "So youdo have work?"

"You start at the bottom."

"Medical supplies," she said persistently. "Those are the runs I want."

"Why do you want those runs so badly?"

"It's a badly needed service."

Well, that simply made her an idealist. She'd get over that in a few months. "I pay fifty percent up front. The rest when the job is done. That's standard in the industry."

"Accepted."

"Come on," he said, pointing to the passageway outside his office. "Have a seat while we go over the logistics of how this operation works. Would you care for something to drink? Water? Our set-up isn't particularly fancy, but we have the best of the best when it comes to small comforts." He gathered a glass from his personal cooler. "In addition to brokering fees, we run our own private insurance. Some smugglers complain it's a fancy way of stealing credits from your pocket, but if you ever lose your cargo, you'll be covered."

"Are the insurance fees based on the value of the actual cargo?"

"No." He saw her face pucker and quickly said, "You might not think that's fair now, but wait until you're transporting priceless artefacts."

"I'll take your word for it for now."

"Oh, and yes, you need to submit your ship to an inspection before we can insure you."

"Of course." She reached inside the oversized jacket and withdrew a small comlink. He gestured for her to go ahead. In a low voice, she said only, "It's me. I'm meeting with Bracha now."

"We're clear?"

"Captain's honour."

"In that case I'm going to go tinker with the-"

"Jasod." The news caused her to pause. "Don't change anything until I've okayed it. Ready the ship for inspection."

"Yes, Captain."

The woman closed her comlink. "Where were we?"

Bracha noticed that she was better looking up close than she was at a distance. She had a beautiful face, like an angel, clear skin, well-proportioned features and warm eyes – a pity they were hidden under all the hair. He wondered if she'd been born into money, if she was some sort of heiress from a core world who'd had enough credits to buy a top-of-the-line ship, but not enough left over to buy herself a route or two.

"That's quite a ship you flew in on."

"She's my baby."

"The great smugglers swear by their Corellian ships," he said, "and care for them the way a lover would"

A flicker fell across her face. "They're worth every credit."

Bracha chuckled to himself.

She reached for her water. The climate inside the catacombs was hot and humid and condensation beaded down the side of her glass. Her fingers slipped and squeaked. "Have you ever heard of Han Solo?"

"Yes."

"I heard he lost his ship."

"His ship and his co-pilot. Deal gone bad in the Corporate Sector. He was hired as a gun for a liberation group and they were betrayed. Someone inside the liberation group tipped off the Espo. They were ambushed. His co-pilot and ship was shot down coming over a ridge trying to rescue them. He was taken in Espo custody for a time – they'd been on his tail for years and near about killed him." Bracha frowned sympathetically. He'd born a grudging respect for the Corellian. He'd been a damn good pilot, damn good smuggler. No captain should lose his ship and crew like that. "The people involved… You don't double-cross a man like Solo."

"No," she agreed, prompting after a moment's reflection, "The Wookiee? Odd choice for a co-pilot."

"Can't remember his name." It had been difficult for most to pronounce. "Solo saved his life in that dream of a military career he had and he swore to stay with him after that. Solo couldn't shake him, no matter how hard he tried."

"What happened after that?"

"He went all official and proper, setting up business with an old friend on Coruscant." He caught her studying the scarred side of his face curiously as if the sudden ending to Solo's story bored her. Her jacket had come unbuttoned without his noticing, fallen to the side so that he was the only person with a clear view of what was underneath. Underneath, she was far from prim and proper, bodysuit cut low over high breasts. "Coruscant," he repeated. "Ever been there?"

"Once." She snapped one leg over the other, gracefully, like a dancer. "Were you a smuggler? Before taking over operations here?"

Jasod

"That was easy."

"You think?" Leia asked, as she strode passed the marbled walls and up the Solus Lily's onramp.

"You don't?"

"They didn't fall for our cover," she said, pausing to rest her hand lovingly on the curve of the Lily'spassageway. "Home again."

He frowned. "Really?"

"When the Baron took the necklace off, he accidentally missed my cheek and kissed me on the mouth." She raised an eyebrow and offered her forearm. "A little more physical contact wouldn't hurt. I promise I won't be offended."

"Maybe he thought you came with the necklace, Captain" he said idly, although Leia looked nothing like a starship captain in her current getup, which consisted of a black evening gown and lacy open toed shoes. Fancy dinners weren't his thing, and to tell the truth, an unusual means of delivering a thousand year old necklace in person. Jasod loosened his tunic, untied his hair and ran his fingers through it until it was back to its usual status of casual disarray. Then he checked the hyperwave receiver, which was blinking desperately. "There's a message from Bracha."

She tipped the credit sac upside down and poured the contents onto the table. "What does he say?"

"It's short and sweet, as always. Dates and times. I suspect it's secretly in regards to the dinner invitation you keep rejecting."

A tidy fortune lay before her and now her fingers were busy counting credits. "Hm," was all she said.

"Is it all there?" he asked.

"Yes. It's local currency." She sighed. "We'll have to drop out of hyper when we reach the Sesswenna Sector and change it to Galactic Credit."

Even though she was pretending to ignore him, Jasod said, "You're not doing much to dissuade him from attempting to parlay a sleeping arrangement into a formal relationship." Although she rejected all would-be suitors, human and otherwise, that came sniffing within ten feet of her, she'd quietly slept with Bracha on at least five occasions - which he knew of. He suspected it was more than that, but Leia was skilled at laying low and keeping secrets.

Leia looked over at him with blank incomprehension, as if he'd just uncovered a nest of fuzzy alien mammals in an engine duct and she didn't know quite what to say.

"Captain?" he prompted after about ten seconds.

"I was trying to remember you being subtle, even once."

"Hell no. It isn't my style." Jasod grinned. "That was just in case you didn't realise."

"Look, I don't want to feel like I owe him anything," she said, sweeping the credits back into the sack. "Or vice-versa."

"Is that why we turned down the job to Ralltir?"

"No." Leia replied, slipping the fine material of her gown up over one leg and untying the small, discreet holster from her thigh. "We turned down the job to Ralltir because I'd prefer to stay away from the inner worlds. Besides, Bracha doesn't work that way." She paused to hang the holster from a peg. "For the record, I haven't said a word to you about Maniid."

Maniid was another fair-haired smuggler who worked for Bracha and Jasod's current romantic obsession. Maniid was fond of B'ssa Nuuvu Jazz, Chiss philosophy and his rear end was sexier than that of Staive Pedsten, one of the greatest zoneball players of all time.

"You two are going to be seen canoodling in his cockpit if you're not careful," she warned.

"Canoodling in his cockpit," he repeated, mock-seriously. "Is that what you call it on Coruscant?"

"Jasod." She waved her finger, eyes flashing merrily. "Don't make me laugh. I'm just saying that if you're not careful, Bracha is going to know who gave us the coordinates to the Ridge."

Jasod leaned against the partition that divided the lounge from the galley and cocked his chin. "Bracha is so sure that you romanced them from one of his regular smugglers, he won't blink if Maniid and I are seen together."

"He's very clever," Leia insisted. "Don't underestimate him."

"I'm very clever too," he insisted. "You missed Maniid and my carefully orchestrated 'meeting' last week in the slava pit. It was quite convincing. We pulled out all the stops. Everyone will think we met there, fell in love…" He waved his fingers in mid-air. "La-dee-da-daand all the rest"

Leia shook her head. "An order is still an order."

"A request is not an order," he countered.

"It was an order."

"Not if you begin the sentence with 'would you please."

"Why is it you're incapable of recognising that I'm the captain and you're the co-pilot?" Leia demanded indignantly.

Jasod pretended to think about. "I've seen you naked?"

"That was by accident. I didn't know you were onboard. What happens if it's a matter of life or death?"

"I can hear the difference. You get that edge to your voice. Like that time at the Baroonda spaceport when the security guard called the Lily a piece of Corellian trash and you told him to go to hell. Did you see his face beneath his visor? He was shaking in his boots."

"Oh great." Leia looked less than thrilled. "I get an edge." For a change, she let him have the last word, pivoting on her pointed heel. "I'm going to do the pre-flight and get us out of here."

Fifteen minutes later, they were clear of Axxila and on their way back toEsau's Ridge. Soon he was working on a particularly stubborn, un-cracked, backup security system that was the bane of his existence and singing a catchy folk song that invaded his mind like a parasite. Heavy clunking burst out of the cockpit in spurts, but he didn't investigate until it sounded like Leia might accidentally injure herself.

It turned out that Leia was struggling to free a section of the alien weapon from the bulkhead. The task was proving to be a challenge, since the sections were bolted to the wall so securely they wouldn't come free even during the most violent exit from hyperspace. So far, she'd only succeeded in cutting down the pelt of fur, which was draped over the back of the co-pilot's chair like a messy stole.

"Skrag, you should have asked for help," he said, stepping through the hatchway.

"I want to take these down," she huffed, "And… and put them in the starboard smuggling compartment." With a clang, the piece in question fell back against the wall. "Ouch!" She stared at her fingertip and grimaced. "They're too much of a curiosity."

Leia was strict about who she allowed onboard, almost to the point of ingrained paranoia. "Has anyone asked about them?"

"No one yet." She stuck the bloody fingernail in her mouth to avoid touching her gown. "But it's possible that one of these runs we're going to need to take on a passenger. I can ban them from the cockpit, but there's still a chance they might wander in here by accident and see them."

"I see hunks of a broken weapon and hair," he said. "Nothin' else."

"Well…" Leia had withdrawn her finger from her mouth and now she blew on it. "They're pieces of a Wookiee bowcaster and ryyk blade."

"You think someone could I.D. the ship because of these."

"If we're incredibly unlucky, yes. I probably should have done it sooner but I didn't want to take them down… out of respect."

"Respect?" The Port Notice with which he'd attempted to blackmail her back on Gelgelar Free Port had identified the ship, the Rrakktor's Revenge, but the name of the vessel's owner had been conspicuously absent. "For the man whose ship you stole?"

"Believe it or not, I have a feeling all this is worth more to him than his ship." She grimaced. "Put it this way. He might kill me for taking his ship but he would kill me if anything happened to these."

It was difficult to discern unless you knew her well, but there was a definitively wistful note to her voice. As though she'd subconsciously wanted to be caught all this time. That insight took Jasod by surprise. "Why did you go through all the trouble of changing the transponder, of hiding out here if you wanted him to find you? You could have contacted him-"

"No." The force of her voice seemed to surprise even her. She folded her arms across her chest, goose pimples rising on her biceps as though the cold of space had penetrated the ship's hull. "It was for his own protection. I'm moving on. I'm sure he's moving on too."

"Or still searching for you."

"If he was, believe me, he would've found me by now."

It had been eight months since they'd met in Gelgelar Free Port, and four since they'd landed at Esau's Ridge. By now, Jasod knew the facts and details that could be scrawled on a piece of flimsy. The Solus Lily had belonged to Leia's previous lover, although most of the time, Leia regarded her previous ownership as an incidental historical fact. It was a form of slightly delusory logic with which Jasod never argued. Leia had also let slip that she had a brother, a man who was threatening, abusive and had left some part of her fundamentally damaged. The damaged part hadn't been put into words exactly, but Jasod knew, because damaged people were hypersensitive to damage in others, the same way the odour of sweetspice alerted Toydarians that they were within a kilometre of another Toydarian. He never asked her about it – partly out of respect, mostly because he had the feeling she would tell him the truth, and he knew he'd rather fire a low-powered blaster at his foot and watch the flesh burn away than talk about the harvest seasons on his uncle's farm.

Sometimes, she said that her entire life until now had been a bad dream and he understood.

Jasod made another guess. "This isn't about passengers, is it? It's about Bracha. He would know this ship was stolen if he saw them." He gave the largest piece a heave, sinewy muscles straining, and it popped free. "You're saying yes to dinner."

She climbed into the pilot's chair and began studying the console readings as though she wanted to do anything but have this conversation. "I haven't decided yet."

If this was about Bracha and the two of them ended up bonded, she wasn't going to need a co-pilot. He chaffed inside at the thought, only because self-preservation ran so deeply in his blood. "Hey. I'm sorry about Maniid?"

"No. It wasn't fair of me to request that you avoid him at the Ridge to begin with. And if Bracha and I are going to stop hiding what's going on between us…" She frowned down at the controls and squeezed her eyes closed as if forcing pain from her mind. "I just don't want to hurt him."

He reached down and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He'd long since learned that sarcasm and light-heartedness were the best way to draw her out of the most melancholy mood. "My grandmother always said if you say something often enough you'll make it true, good or bad. So you should shut up."

"Wise woman," Leia chuckled.

Lando

They were out on the pretence of a dinner, sitting at a table that would have seated ten even though they were only six.

Personally, Lando would have preferred to dine at a more prestigious Coruscanti eatery than the Golden Cuff Tavern, where everything was overly shiny and superficially bright, but Talon Karrde preferred to keep a low profile whenever he visited the Core. And, as he was on Coruscant negotiating a new weapons contract with Calrissian-Solo Munitions Inc. on behalf of the Smuggler's Alliance, it was important that they keep him happy.

Tonight Talon also had company, although at first glance, she was too tall and too good-looking for a man like Talon. Her hair was flame-red, the type women either loathed or envied, but he doubted she gave a damn. Lando had caught her scanning for exits when they entered the restaurant - he'd noticed Han making a scan out of the corner of his eye and automatically looked to his left and caught her doing the same thing. She'd immediately seen that he caught her and her eyes had narrowed like a hawk, and then she'd turned to Talon and smiled like a brainwashed starlet. Lando had a feeling he never wanted to meet her in a dark alley.

"One of my ships recently made a pit-stop at Esau's Ridge," Talon mentioned offhandedly.

"How is old Plothis?" asked Han.

"Deceased."

Lando asked, "What happened?"

"He was shot by an angry squib."

They had a moment of silence. The holographic advertisements on the casino level kept getting picked up by the chandeliers and were refracted like broken rainbows in every which direction. Lando let himself be distracted.

"Well, how is that ball of rock holding up without him?" Han continued.

"Business is good," Talon replied. "Bracha e'Naso's taken over the day-to-day operations."

"Pretty Bracha? That bastard." Han laughed. "He did always want to get out of the field and he loved to micromanage."

Talon chuckled. "I hear business is better than ever."

"Bracha even has a woman in his life," Marellis said, dropping into the conversation for the first time of her own accord. "Says he's going to make an honest woman of her."

"Good for him." Han sipped his whiskey. "And he swore he'd be a bachelor forever."

"So did you," Talon said, nodding to the willowy beauty on Han's right.

"It was temporary insanity." Han reached for Bryn's hand. Bryn reached over to tuck a wayward curl back into Han's hair.

"Very temporary," he repeated and raised his eyebrows.

"I'm still shocked," Lando said. "And your beautiful wife must have temporarily been out of her mind." Again, he thought privately.

"Oh, she is." Han held up his glass. It twinkled beneath the extravagant lighting. "To my wife. Who is beautiful, kind, patient, understanding, and everything I don't deserve."

"Hear, hear," Lando agreed and everyone at the table raised their drinks.

"It was spur of the moment," Bryn explained, running a self-conscious hand through her shoulder length hair. "We didn't want to make an event of it"

"It is an event," Shasheva insisted, laughing. She folded her napkin and laid it across her plate. "Let's go celebrate by trying our hand at the Jubilee Wheel."

Lando yanked a thousand credit marker from his pocket. Shasheva Astopone, socialite, heir to the Aspotone's family fortune, looked at him with one brow raised. "If you give me a solitary cent, I'll be insulted."

"No insult intended," Lando said. He watched as the women headed toward the flickering lights and ornate chandeliers of the gaming floor. Shasheva, ten years his senior, had exotic eyes, black hair, tawny skin and sleek, full red lips and was often mistaken for being part Lorrdian. Of course, she'd feigned shock at being invited to such an establishment, but secretly loved every second of it. She hated the emperor and loved the finer things in life. She'd taught him much over the past several years.

Lando turned back to Han, freshly curious. "What happens with your penthouse?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Bryn won it in the divorce proceedings. And the shuttle too."

"Yeah." Han made a gesture with his hands that indicated he thought Lando would need to be committed in the near future. "I moved back in a few weeks ago. And I suppose I can fly the shuttle from time to time if I ask nicely."

"I still can't believe you didn't tell me."

"You've been busy."

"Notthat busy-"

Marellis arched an eyebrow in mock amusement. "You two actually do sound like an old married couple."

"Think so?" Han eyed her with derision. "Why don't you buy us a drink to celebrate sweetheart."

"I never buy men drinks."

Lando could see that Han was on the verge of making a cutting remark. Marellis didn't just have the air of a skilled fighter; she carried a subtle air of arrogance that was slightly off-putting.

Fortunately, Talon intervened. "My associate here has information for sale."

"Does she?" Han asked sarcastically.

Talon lifted his fork to his lip. "She'd like to barter." He took the last bite of vege-steak and swallowed. "And she drives a hard bargain."

Han sat back in his chair and flopped his hands across his lap. "Barter about what?"

"Your ship," Marellis replied.

"Ihave a ship," he said.

"The one you lost."

Lost? Lando looked at Han, half-expecting him to spring from his seat and demand she tell him what she knew, but Han's face had gone unreadable and still. Their meal was moving in slow motion – at least it seemed that way to Lando. The restaurant was crowded, but the din of the other patrons faded to a dull hum.

Almost a year had passed since Luke Skywalker murdered the night guard and left his dismembered body in the turbolift. Han hadn't spoken of Leia Skywalker since that night and never spoke of what went on during those minutes in his office when he and Skywalker were alone. Lando knew better than to ask. As for Leia, she hadn't turned up on any radars on or off the record.

Immediately afterward, Han had dipped into a dark period. He'd had lost weight and his face had become was lean and angry, the way it had been after he lost Chewbacca and the Falcon. He'd become unreliable, more days than not, arriving late to the office, his face shadowed with stubble and his eyes bloodshot from drinking too much. Calrissian had been on the verge of telling his old friend to take time off when Bryn reappeared on the scene. She'd been a godsend. This time, perhaps, she'd saved him from himself.

But Talon was a free-floating nucleus in the midst of the galaxy and eventually, everything passed through his head of command, even knowledge of ships that were better off lost.

"How much?" Han asked.

"I want a new set of turbolaser cannons."

"Is that all? This better be good." Han flashed his best fake smile at Marellis. "What do you have?"

"The latest smuggler at Esau's Ridge," Marellis replied. "She flies a flashy ship. A YT-2400, as a matter of fact. Sound familiar?"

Han's eyes narrowed sharply. "What else?"

"She calls herself Nyeve Antilles," Marellis continued coolly. "Her ship is called the Solus Lily."

Han cleared his throat. "I'll spot you the cannons on one condition. I want you to give me one of your runs to the Ridge, up-to-date codes and all." Marellis began to make a face, but Han cut her off. "Just one run. Just one run so that I can fly in there and verify this for myself."

"There's no need," she said when he finished. "I can give you the details of her regular routes, coordinates, estimated shipment dates and all. If you pull into the Ridge as yourself, you'll lose the advantage of surprise."

"All right then." Han sat back in his seat and folded his arms behind his head, mouth tightening, furrows deepening. "If you want the latest firepower, it'll take about a week. I'll deliver them to the Smuggler's Alliance in person. I'd like to see what kind of operation you have going."

"Han Solo" Talon said, making his voice atypically dramatic. "Are you thinking of getting back in the game?"

"Temporarily. I need a real vacation."

"Listen to him," Talon said, jerking a thumb toward Lando. "I've got men and women doing their best to eke out a living and he wants a vacation. Tell him he's an artefact and he's better off retired."

"Oh, he won't listen to me," Lando said grimly.

"Do you two ever shut up?" Han demanded. "I'm still in my prime."

"Do we have a deal?" Talon asked. "Is everyone happy?"

Marellis shrugged. "The latest model?"

"I wouldn't dare to pull a fast on you," Han said.

Talon held his arm out to Marellis. "Let's go try a round on the wheel."

Once they'd left, Lando tapped his fingers impatiently against the table. This day had been coming for a long time. Maybe he knew it. Maybe he didn't. He didn't want to ask the obviously burning question but he didn't have much of a choice. Business was business. "How temporary Han?"

"I don't know." Han idly stirred his drink with a silver tipped toothpick. "Draw up the paperwork and pick a date you don't want to see pass. If I don't make it back, you can buy me out."

"What about Bryn? Your wife?"

"This is something I need to do. She'll understand."

Lando wasn't convinced she would. "She knows about Leia?"

"She knows about my ship," Han answered shortly. "I want my ship back."

"It might not be her."

"It's her," he insisted. "Solus is Mandalorian for alone."

"That could mean anything," Lando argued.

"It means one thing," Han insisted.

In the background, the gambling sirens rang as though someone had won big.