Return to Ord Mantell

11

As they cruised away from Ord Mantell, Anja sat stiffly against a bulkhead wall facing the Falcon’s cockpit, where Han Solo and Jaina sat at the ship’s controls. Anja’s face was hard, her arms folded over her chest.

Across from her, Jacen smiled. “Why don’t you relax,” he said. “We’ll find a way to help your planet.”

Anja closed her big, sad eyes and gave a mirthless laugh. “Right. A few pampered kids and one former smuggler will fix everything. I feel better already.”

Lowie gave a soft growl, turning in the passenger seat to look at Anja.

Tenel Ka sat stiffly beside Jacen, as if ready to protect him. “This is not a fact. We are not children,” she said. “We are Jedi Knights. We have all faced hardship.”

“And war,” Jaina added. “And the death of friends and family.”

Zekk spoke up from beside Lowie. “And General Solo here has some real influence with the New Republic fleet.”

Anja looked skeptical. “It’s just hard to believe, since nobody in the New Republic has ever bothered to think of us before, much less offer us help.”

“Give us a chance,” Jacen said. “We’re your friends—at least we’d like to be.”

“With the past history between our fathers, I’m not certain becoming friends is possible,” she said in a flat voice. No anger, no hope… no emotion at all now. Jacen watched her, wondering deep in his heart exactly what had happened between Han Solo and Gallandro so many years before the twins were born. “Besides,” Anja continued, “the flight to Anobis is brief enough that there’s little point in getting comfortable.”

“The hyperspace route to the Anobis system is short,” Anakin said. “We’ll arrive in less than a day.”

“Then that’s when the fun starts,” Anja murmured.

She removed her lightsaber and began playing with it, looking at the intricate knobs and buttons. Every lightsaber was different, made from various raw materials. Jacen, Jaina, Tenel Ka, and Lowie had built personal energy blades using their skills and their imaginations. Anja was not a Jedi trainee, yet she had a sophisticated-looking lightsaber, apparently an ancient one.

Jacen tried again to strike up a conversation. “Hey, that’s an interesting weapon. Have you had any Jedi training?”

Anja threw her head back and looked at him with scorn. “I don’t have time to sit around in the jungle and concentrate at rocks and leaves.”

She made a rude noise. “No. I bought this lightsaber from an old trader. He said it’s some sort of Jedi relic. Who cares? It works. That’s all that matters to me.”

“But you used it well against the chameleon attackers,” Tenel Ka observed.

Han Solo turned in his pilot’s seat. “You don’t need to be a Jedi to use a lightsaber, kids,” he said, still trying to make a gesture of peace toward Anja. “Fact is, I used your uncle Luke’s lightsaber on Hoth, to cut open a tauntaun so we’d have a place to keep warm until I could set up a snow shelter.” Anja looked at her weapon again, studied the ancient carvings and scrollwork on its handle. She shrugged. “I can fight with reckless enthusiasm and enough skill to overpower any opponent I’ve encountered so far. It doesn’t matter whether the Force is with me or not.”

Fifteen hours later, the Falcon dropped out of hyperspace at the edge of the Anobis system.

In the cockpit Jaina sat with Zekk looking over her shoulder at the copilot controls. The darkhaired young man seemed intrigued by the systems of the modified light freighter.

“I can fly this ship,” he,aid.

“No you can’t,” Han answered.

“In theory, I meant,” Zekk said. “The Lightning Rod’s very similar, only a little smaller and designed to be flown by only one person.”

He looked down at the sensor array that scanned space in front of them.

He pointed to the small blip just as Jaina herself noticed it.

“There’s another ship sharing our course,” Zekk said.

“We’re approaching pretty fast. That ship doesn’t seem to be in much of a hurry,” Jaina said. “Must be a cargo hauler.”

Zekk nodded. “It has smaller engines, a bulky design. Not built for speed. It’s a cargo hauler all right.”

“Better let them know we’re here.” Han Solo leaned forward to the comm unit and opened a hailing frequency. “Ship ahead, this is the Millennium Falcon. Looks like we’re on the same heading. Please identify yourself.” Instead, the small hauler released a cluster of metallic spheres that drifted in space for a few seconds before exploding in a blossom of multicolored fire. Then the ship jinked to the right, altered course, and swept downward using its low-power engines. The Falcon dodged the debris and rapidly closed the distance.

“Space mines,” Zekk said.

“Again? Does he think he’s running his own Derby out there?” Jaina asked.

“We’ll catch up to him in no time,” Zekk said. “He’s got no chance of outrunning the Falcon.”

The pilot ahead seemed to realize the same thing. He returned to his course and responded over the comm system. “H-hello, Millennium Falcon. This is Lilmit, captain of the Rude Awakening—an officially licensed cargo hauler from Ord Mantell. M-m-my apologies for that accidental release a minute ago. Our defensive systems malfunctioned and identified you as an enemy. I trust no one was injured?”

Han grunted. He nudged the Falcon closer to the other ship.

“What’s your destination, Lilmit?”

“Anobis. I’ve g-got some important… supplies to deliver.”

Anja glanced up from where she sat behind an invisible psychological wall that cut her off from the companions. She came forward to the cockpit.

“He must mean food and medicinal supplies,” Jaina said, not realizing that Han still had the comm circuit open.

“N-not, uh, exactly, Millennium Falcon,” Lilmit said. “But my c-cargo is important to the war effort, nevertheless.”

Anja moved farther into the cockpit. “He’s running weapons,” she said. Her voice dripped with scorn.

“Lilmit, this is Han Solo, a special emissary from the New Republic. I’ll be coming aboard for a brief inspection.” He brought the Falcon so close to the small cargo hauler that their hulls nearly touched.

“Y-Y-You what?” Lilmit stammered. The Rude Awakening put on a burst of speed that the Falcon easily matched. “Y-you have no right to detain my ship. I’m-I’m officially licensed.”

“Then we should have no problem. Besides, I’m well aware of how much a license from Ord Mantell is worth,” Han said, “and exactly how much one costs.” He glanced at Anja. Her face bore a troubled expression.

“Are you ready to be boarded?” he said into the comm system.

The two ships flew along side by side, nearly touching, but Lilmit still refused to answer. Han extended his grappling hook and attached the docking field. “Let’s do this peacefully, Lilmit. Don’t make me blast you and take over the wreck of your ship. It’d be a heck of a lot of trouble for both of us.”

The other pilot mumbled something unintelligible, which Em Teedee offered to relay, but the young Jedi Knights quickly assured him that some things were better left untranslated.

“C-c-come on aboard, then,” Lilmit grumbled. “B-but you’re delaying my delivery. I’m perfectly legal.”

“His actions suggest otherwise,” Tenel Ka said.

The docking clamp engaged with a loud metallic clank, and after a hiss of air equalization, both ships were ready. “I’m going across first, kids,” Han said, taking the lead. “Just in case there’s a trap.”

“If it’s a trap, Dad,” Jaina said, following close behind him, “you’ll need us next to you, not hiding inside the Falcon.”

Han looked over his shoulder and cocked an eyebrow at her. “You know, you may be right.”

He opened the hatch and quickly descended into the smaller ship.

Anja’s face contained a thunderstorm of anger in anticipation of what she knew they would find aboard the smuggler’s ship.

Lilmit, a small grayish-skinned man, had winglike eyebrows and a wrinkled, ridged scalp. He met them with frowns and flailing hands.

Jaina noticed that his fingertips were connected by thin translucent webs of skin. Finally, he forced a ridiculously fake smile onto his face.

“I Han Solo! W-welcome aboard my ship,” he said. “It’s not in very g-good condition, but it’s paid for. I’ve had it for many years—and this war on Anobis has been providing some of our best business since the Empire fell.” He rambled on, his tone obsequious. “We’ve g-g-got a lot in common, don’t we? You used to be a smuggler yourself. Y-you ran spice for Jabba the Hutt, didn’t you?”

“Nearly cost me my life a few times,” Han answered. “It’s been decades since I ran those kinds of risks for a quick profit.”

Lilmit sighed. “If only we c-could kick back in a cantina on Ord Mantell, sh-share a Rhuvian fizz or some Osskom ale. Then we’d have time to socialize.”

“I’m not here to socialize, Lilmit,” Han said coldly. “We’re here to check out your ship’s cargo.”

Anja snatched out her lightsaber, switching it on so that its acid-yellow glare flooded the small compartment. “Show us your cargo now!” Lilmit recoiled, holding up his webbed hands. “It’s j-just my usual run! I’ve been doing this for years. N-nobody’s ever bothered me before.”

“Then today’s your lucky day,” Zekk said, standing close to Anja.

The young woman, tall and slender, had a sort of animal energy that dominated the room. Zekk had no lightsaber himself. Jaina, Jacen, Tenel Ka, and Lowie did not draw their weapons, though the smuggler could surely see them at their sides.

“All right, all right. C-come with me.”

Inside the cargo hold they found crates filled with munitions: blasters, burrowing detonators, sonic punchers, and other explosive devices.

“Just as I thought,” Anja said. She pointed to the box of sonic punchers. “He’s taking these weapons to the enemy.”

“War material is forbidden, even for smugglers,” Han Solo said. “I can’t remember the exact statute or regulation in the New Republic charter, but I’m sure that’s the case.”

“I would be pleased to look it up for you, Master Solo,” Em Teedee volunteered. Lowie rumbled that it didn’t matter at the moment.

Lilmit looked completely flustered. “I’m m-merely trying to make a living. There’s a good m-market for these things on Anobis. There’s quite a demand. P-people need to defend themselves.”

“And which side have you chosen?” Tenel Ka said. “Which army do you support?”

“Oh, I couldn’t take s-sides in a civil war,” Lilmit said. “That would be unfair. I supply everybody. L-l-let them work it out. That’s my creed.”

Anja flared with anger, barely able to keep herself from cleaving the smuggler in two with her lightsaber. “You supply the enemy and our side? You sell to both equally?”

“Wait a minute,” Jaina said. “Which one is ‘our’ side? We’re just going there to investigate.”

Anja didn’t hear her. She turned to Han Solo. “If you really pride yourself in being a high-and-mighty representative of the New Republic, you cannot let him deliver these weapons. Think of how many people these munitions will kill… how much more blood will be on your hands.”

Han drew himself up. “Anja’s right. We’re going to have to confiscate your cargo, Lilmit.”

“You c-can’t do that!” the smuggler wailed. “I’ve got m-mouths to feed—an entire litter of offspring back at Ord Mantell. You’d put them out into the streets! I’ll f-file a complaint!”

“I happen to know it doesn’t cost much more to get a license permanently canceled than it costs to buy one in the first place.”

Han’s gaze didn’t waver. “And in your case, I’d consider the credits well spent. You might want to try a more reputable line of business.”

Han gestured to Lowie, who helped him lift a large crate of burrowing detonators and set it in the center of the cargo floor, just above an irising space hatch. “Let’s pile these other crates on top,” Han said.

Zekk, Tenel Ka, and the twins used the Force to help, while Anakin did his best to be of assistance in directing their efforts. Anja remained where she was, her lightsaber still drawn as if daring Lilmit to argue with them.

“I’ll report you to the authorities on Ord Mantell,” the smuggler whined. “Y-you say you’re confiscating my cargo, but you’ll probably fence it yourself, s-s-sell it on the black market.”

“Hey, not a chance,” Jacen said.

Han Solo opened up a crate and removed one of the powerful detonators.

After setting its timer, he placed it back in the box and sealed it.

They locked all of the cargo crates together magnetically and coded the locks to a single control. After Anakin scrambled the coded combination for him, Han stood back. “I think we’d better leave our friend Lilmit alone so he can jettison his crates.”

“B-b-but there’s a fortune tied up in those weapons!” the little man said. He waved his webbed hands as his eyebrows flew upward like flames to his wrinkled scalp.

Han drew his blaster and pointed toward the crate with the timer ticking down. “If I were you, I’d get rid of the cargo, Lilmit. If you don’t your ship’ll become the newest, brightest little star in this part of the galaxy. I can’t make that choice for you, but I’m not going to wait around to see what you do.” He gestured, and the young Jedi Knights hurried after him to the Millennium Falcon’s docking port.

Lilmit wailed, “B-but I’ll never get that open in time! How m-much time did you set the countdown for?”

“Oh, a minute… maybe two. Can’t remember exactly.”

The smuggler ran to the crate, pounded on its side. “I can’t g-get it open!”

“I suggest you jettison your cargo without delay,” Tenel Ka said.

Lowbacca added his growl of affirmation.

The companions scrambled back into the Falcon. Han headed straight for the pilot’s seat and strapped himself in while Jaina released the magnetic docking connection. They split away from the smaller cargo hauler and drifted off to a safe distance.

“How long does he have, Dad?” Jaina asked.

“Plenty of time,” Han said. “I think.”

Finally they saw a cluster of glittering objects pop out from the bottom of the smuggler’s ship. Lilmit’s sublight engines kicked in, and he streaked away only moments before the jettisoned cargo containers erupted into a white-hot ball of light.

“Looks like he made the right decision,” Jacen said.

“This is a fact,” Tenel Ka agreed.

“Not bad, Solo,” Anja said. “Your method was crude, but it’s good to know you occasionally do make the right decision.”

Aboard his small ship, Lilmit swung between despair and outrage. He had just lost a huge profit. It would have paid for his long-awaited vacation on Tatooine. For years he had scrimped and saved so that he could fly out under the double suns, soak up warmth from the glittering sands, enjoy the wild nightlife in Mos Eisley. Now those dreams and plans were trashed.

With trembling fingers he opened a special private comm signal. It was time to express his anger to the people in charge. Perhaps they could do something about this marauder, this space pirate named Han Solo.

Lilmit clenched a fist, trying to control his anger.

The image of Czethros appeared on the screen. The angry-faced leader appeared greatly annoyed that Lilmit had bothered him. His red laser eye burned bright behind his metal visor.

“You m-must do something about Han Solo!” the smuggler blurted, leaning so close that his flat nose nearly touched the viewplate. “He and a group of kids just boarded my ship en route to Anobis. They confiscated my cargo and forced me to destroy all the weapons.”

“Really?” Czethros said. “You didn’t mention my name, did you? I don’t want Anja to know that Black Sun is involved in her own little war.”

“Of course I kept m-m-my mouth shut,” Lilmit said. “But what am I supposed to do n-now?”

“Obviously, you’ll have to make up for these losses.”

“D-don’t you think I know that?” Lilmit said. “But I want you to make Solo p-p-pay for this—in blood. I work hard, I pay my protection money, and I do whatever you ask. Now it’s time for Black Sun to do something for me. K-keep the spacelanes to Anobis safe for us gun runners.” Czethros laughed, but the laser-red eye in his visor did not waver. “You can’t order me around, Lilmit. You’re no one, a mere underling who drives a craft and delivers boxes.”

Lilmit trembled, knowing he had overstepped his bounds in talking to Czethros that way. One didn’t make an enemy of the powerful crime organization without paying a steep price. Thanks to the efforts of Czethros, Black Sun’s tentacles now reached into every known business in this part of the galaxy.

Then Czethros did smile; it appeared to be a genuine smile, or perhaps the man was a much better actor than Lilmit thought. “It just so happens, though, that your wishes exactly parallel mine with regard to Solo. Sort of a personal grudge of mine. Don’t worry about it for now.”

“But how will I g-get restitution?” Lilmit stuttered. “Someone has to p-pay for my lost cargo.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Czethros said. “You do. You allowed yourself to be boarded. You didn’t deal with the situation properly, and you lost the weapons. It comes out of your account.”

Lilmit swallowed hard. He knew of no way he could escape his obligation now.

Czethros laughed. “If it’s any consolation, Solo is walking right into he civil war on Anobis. He seems to think he can make everything better, but I’ve got about a thousand different ways to make sure he never leaves that planet alive.”

“Well,” Lilmit mumbled. “That’s one thing to look forward to at least.” Slumping deep into his pilot chair, he switched off the communications channel, then called up his credit records and banking tables in an attempt to figure out how he could possibly pay for the lost merchandise.