Chapter 2: Two of Staves

"The Two of Staves indicates the formation of alliances. A mutually beneficial partnership will reap the rewards fairly due. But those who seek to profit at the expense of others will find what little they have taken away."
—Lunira, The Sacred Jhabacc: Foretelling the Future

Chewie roared in rage and betrayal, drawing curious stares from some of the cantina's other denizens eager to see another fight. But Han grabbed his elbow to hold him back, never taking his eyes off Thane even as adrenaline flooded his system, twisting his stomach into knots and urging him to run. "Me?" he demanded, the word coming out on an incredulous laugh. "I thought you said you needed my help!"

"I do, I…" Thane sighed heavily. "Captain Solo, I've no intention of killing you."

"Oh, really?" Han folded his arms and eyed Thane critically. The significance of those words was not lost on him—Thane Krios never failed to complete a contract. But he also wasn't above using deception to get close to his mark. He was a talented actor. Han wanted to believe he was telling the truth, but he'd seen the assassin in action enough to be suspicious, and it made him feel vaguely sick. "Now, don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're on my side, here," he said dryly. "But… this is your son. He obviously means a hell of a lot more to you than I do. Why not just kill me?"

Chewie let out an alarmed grunt, but Han held up a hand to silence him.

Thane bowed his head, as if ashamed. "I tried." He looked up at Han, but not at Han—his gaze was distant, unfocused, and his voice grew haunted as he spoke. "Roof tiles hot from the suns. Sounds of the spaceport float up from below. I spot the Wookiee first; beside him, my target. I cannot allow myself to use their names, not now. I steel myself to fire.

"Laser dot dances wildly on his skull. My hands tremble. He turns around, doesn't see me. But suddenly, I see her. Sunset-colored eyes defiant in the scope. How dare you, she mouths.

"To save our son, I reply, pleading with the ghost. An artifact of my own mind, but no less vivid for it. Please, you must understand!

"She does not relent. I do."

Thane shook his head as he pulled himself back to the present. "Arashu, forgive me," he murmured.

Han scoffed. "'Arashu, forgive me,' he says," he grumbled to Chewie. Glaring at Thane, he demanded, "For what, Krios? Trying? Or failing?"

"I…" Thane looked faintly surprised by the question. "I don't know."

"Well, that's reassuring," Han drawled sarcastically. "So what do you want?"

Thane finally seemed to pull himself together a bit, the old familiar mask slipping back into place. "I mean to rescue Kolyat," he declared. "Clearly, I cannot accomplish this on my own, but together, we may stand a chance. And I'm prepared to pay you, as I said—twenty thousand, up front."

Han raised his eyebrows. "Up front?" It was definitely tempting—twenty thousand could make a lot of his problems go away right about now. But there was a distinct whiff of too-good-to-be-true about it. His standing arrangement with Thane had always been payment after the job was done. For him to offer the money now, and so much of it, said a lot about his estimation of their odds of success. "You expecting this thing to go sideways?"

"No," Thane said slowly, "just preparing, should… should the worst come to pass."

"Uh-huh." Not entirely convinced, Han asked, "And if you do die on this little expedition, what happens to Kolyat then?"

Unfazed by the question, Thane answered immediately, "In that eventuality, I would ask that you take him to Kahje—he has family there, in Masav Nyahir. The twenty thousand should be more than enough to cover his passage."

"And what if we fail?" Han pressed. "What if neither of us gets out? Krios, you gotta know that if Jabba's got no more use for your boy… he'll kill him."

Thane closed his eyes. "Then I will meet him across the sea," he said softly, his voice thick with barely suppressed emotion, "and pray he can forgive me." He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "This mission is not without risk," he acknowledged, "but I would deem no cost too dear to save my son. Will you help me, Captain?"

Twenty thousand was very tempting, indeed. But Jabba the Hutt was not someone you wanted to play games with. Han highly doubted rescuing the boy was feasible, and all the money in the galaxy would do him no good in the belly of the Sarlacc. Besides, he had his own troubles to worry about. "Look, Krios, I'm sorry about your kid, I really am," he said. "But I can't help you. If Jabba's sent you after me, I can guarantee you there's others. Assassins, bounty hunters—every lowlife in the Outer Rim is gonna be hunting me. Uh, no offense."

"None taken," Thane replied, and Han could hear the resignation in his voice, the flat tones of dashed hope.

But he didn't let it move him. Couldn't let it move him. "I've got a price on my head, now," he said. "The best place for me to go is the other side of the galaxy, not waltzing right into Jabba's palace. So if there's any other way I can help, let me know, but I ain't doin' this. C'mon, Chewie, let's go."

Chewie growled a protest.

"I said no," Han snapped at him. "We gotta blow this joint, buddy, or we're as good as dead."

Chewie woofed a mournful and heartfelt apology to Thane, which Han did his best to ignore as he left the cantina and emerged into the harsh sunlight of Tatooine.

Arashu, forgive me, Thane prayed, over and over. Arashu, forgive me. Irikah, I beg you, forgive me.

Despite what he'd told Captain Solo, he knew exactly what he asked forgiveness for. But it wasn't for any attempt on Solo's life, nor for any failure to do so. It was for the lie.

It was for fabricating the entire "memory" and passing it off as a flashback—a performance that might not have convinced another Drell, but was certainly adequate to make a human believe. It was for deliberately using Irikah to attempt to gain Solo's sympathy. It was for trying to draw him in by deception, using his own very real grief to make his ploy believable.

Even his dismay at Solo's refusal had been affected. The man was not as callous as he tried to let on; his feigned self-centeredness was how he survived in the Outer Rim Territories. But he had more compassion than he cared to admit. And Chewbacca, who so often served as Solo's conscience, would certainly wear him down. Thane had no doubt he'd not seen the last of them.

As for the purpose of his deception, though, the real reason he needed Captain Solo—he didn't dare ask forgiveness for that. There could be no absolution for what he meant to do. He would drown in the Depths for it, without a doubt. But for Kolyat's sake, he would gladly brave the wrath of Kalahira Herself.

The doors into Docking Bay 94 opened on Jabba's booming voice. "Solo!" he was bellowing toward the Falcon's open ramp. "Come out here, Solo! I know you're in there! Solo!"

Han froze, wondering for an instant if Jabba had finally decided to dispense with his thugs and kill him in person. But that wasn't too likely—getting his hands dirty wasn't his style. So Han leaned against the door frame, adopting a casual slouch that belied his racing heart, and called out, "Over here, Jabba. I've been lookin' for you."

Jabba turned around, a fake-friendly grin spreading across his wide, fleshy face as Han approached. "Han, my boy!" he greeted him in gelatinous Huttese. Jabba had the kind of voice that could make you seasick just listening. "We have business to discuss."

"Oh, we do, do we?" Han shot back, stopping a few paces away and folding his arms. "Rumor has it you put a price on my head. And you sent Thane Krios to collect." He let a hint of betrayal and wounded pride seep into his voice, as if his greatest concern was Jabba's lack of trust in him. "Bringin' out the big guns, huh?"

Jabba spread his arms in a noncommittal gesture. "Nothing personal, my boy," he replied evenly, "but I'm afraid I have to make an example of you. What would I do if everyone who smuggled for me dropped their cargo at the first sign of an Imperial cruiser?"

This again. Han gritted his teeth in annoyance. "Look, Jabba, even I get boarded sometimes. You think I had a choice?" he bit out. "I'll get you the money. With interest, I promise. I just need a little more time, that's all. So just… call off your goons, all right?"

Narrowing his eyes, Jabba studied Han for a moment, considering. "Fine," he said. "For an extra twenty percent—"

"Fifteen, Jabba," Han interrupted. "Don't push it."

Jabba nodded agreeably. "Okay, fifteen percent. I'll cancel the contract."

"Great." Feeling as though a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders, Han started up the ramp into the Falcon. "Jabba, you're a wonderful—"

"After you pay me."

Han halted in his tracks. "After?" He let out an incredulous laugh, but all of Jabba's good humor was gone. "How am I supposed to get your money with assassins on my tail?"

"Figure it out," said Jabba, already on his way out the door. "Quickly."

Han watched, slack-jawed, as he left, then turned to Chewie. "Let's get outta here, pal. Right now."

But Chewie didn't move, instead folding his arms and tilting his head.

"Chewie, c'mon."

Chewie growled.

"I said we're leaving!" Han pushed past him toward the ship.

Shaking his shaggy head, Chewie rumbled a suggestion.

Han turned around and stuck a finger in Chewie's face. "No."

Chewie rumbled again, more insistently.

"Friend? He's not our friend, Chewie. You heard him back there—the only reason he didn't pull that trigger is because of a… a hallucination!" Han's hand knifed through the air between them in an emphatic gesture. "We don't owe him anything. And I sure as hell don't want him on my ship if he changes his mind."

Chewie grunted an observation.

"Honorable?" Han scoffed."Well, I guess, but—"

Chewie yowled triumphantly.

"Now, I wouldn't go that far," Han snapped. "I don't trust him any further than I can throw him." He sighed. "But you're right, I've never known him to go back on his word. Problem is, he's a man of very few words. Leaves a lot of wiggle room."

Chewie chuckled.

"Fine. You win." Han fished his commlink out of his pocket. "Hey, Krios. You still around?"

Thane's answer came so quickly, Han suspected he'd been expecting the call. "I am."

"Meet me at Docking Bay 94. We're shovin' off in five." He pitched his voice low. "I got an idea."

"Acknowledged. And, Captain Solo—thank you."

Han glared at Chewie. "If I wake up dead tomorrow, I'm never speaking to you again."