Return to Ord Mantell

3

Even if Jacen wasn’t entirely thrilled about leaving his close friend Tenel Ka behind for a few days, Jaina reveled in the chance to fly beside her father as his genuine copilot. Although she felt dwarfed by the huge seat that normally accommodated a burly Wookiee, she handled the Falcon with as much expertise as she did the Rock Dragon.

So far it was one of the best times she had ever shared with her father. Young Anakin, with his ability for grasping problems and solving complex puzzles, studied the navigational charts and considered various paths through hyperspace, until he announced that he had found a perfectly safe shortcut to Ord Mantell.

After Han Solo double-checked Anakin’s calculations, he announced that he saw no reason not to try the new route. If his son was right, the new path would cut a full six standard hours off their transit time.

Once the Falcon was in hyperspace, Han said to his children, “Ord Mantell’s in the middle of nowhere, but that’s not necessarily a disadvantage. A lot of smuggling traffic goes through there. Its position makes the planet about equally close to anyplace else along certain hyperspace paths. So even though it’s not exactly convenient, Ord Mantell makes a good way station or stopping point.”

“If it’s a smugglers’ hangout, you probably spent some time there between Derbies—right, Dad?” Jacen asked. “Before you became respectable, I mean.”

Han Solo laughed. “Plenty of times, Jacen. I never tried to hide my checkered past from you all. Doesn’t seem to bother your mother anymore. After all, I learned some of my most useful skills when I was a smuggler and a crack pilot—even studied at the Imperial Academy for a while. All that stuff in my past is part of who I am; the things I learned made me a vital asset to the Rebellion when we fought the Empire. I don’t spend time regretting what I’ve done in my life, so long as I can use it now to help the people I love.”

Jaina raised her eyebrows. “So if we ever do anything you think is dumb, you’ll understand, right? You’ll just accept it as part of our growth and training?”

Han knitted his brows. “Uh, that’s not exactly what I meant.”

Jacen stood leaning against the back of his father’s chair in the Falcon’s cockpit. “Tell us what you did on Ord Mantell, Dad.”

“I ended up there pretty often when I was a smuggler. Seems like every time I went to Ord Mantell I ran into one bounty hunter or another, and every one of ’em meant trouble. One of the worst was an insect creature named Cypher Bos, a mercenary, as vile and selfcentered as they come. He was impersonating his identical hatch-mate brother, who was a Rebel sympathizer. But all those bug-people look alike, and I couldn’t tell the difference. Cypher Bos sold us out and almost captured your mom and Luke and me. Then the three of us nearly got fed to the Imperials by a cyborg bounty hunter named Skoff. They just never learn.” He shook his head. “But one of the worst pinches I ever got into was against a tough smuggler named Czethros, and his Rybet henchman Brim. They were licensed bounty hunters, as well as black-marketeers in the Ord Mantell system, and had some connection to Black Sun. When Chewie and I were in a tight situation once with the Falcon, we had to land on Ord Mantell and get repairs. The system was crawling with Imperials, but we made it without getting stopped.

“When Czethros found out I was on Ord Mantell, he and his pal set up a trap, kidnapped Chewie.” Han gave a halfhearted grin as he relived the memory of his bygone adventure. “Told me to give myself up for the reward, or he’d kill my Wookiee friend.”

“So how did you get away?” Jacen said.

“Turned the tables on ’em, of course. I’d been keeping an eye on Czethros through some smuggler friends and found out he and Briff were taking an unmarked skimmer out to the place where I was supposed to give myself up. I stole Czethros’s own ship from its hangar bay, did a few things calculated to make the Imperials mad, then led them on a merry chase on my way to the exchange point.”

“Must’ve been quite a ride,” Jaina said.

Han grimaced. “Not one I’d like to repeat. I made it to the rendezvous with just enough time to hide before the stormtroopers showed up and nabbed Czethros along with his Rybet buddy. He claimed total innocence, of course, but the ship obviously belonged to him. The stormtroopers searched the ship and found plenty of… irregularities. Weapons, drugs, and so on. While they were busy, I managed to sneak over and free Chewie. Next thing we heard, the Imperials had carted Czethros and Briff off to the spice mines on Kessel. I think his henchman worked some kind of deal a year later with Moruth Doole, a Rybet who worked on Kessel. From what I’ve seen in recent reports, Czethros is actually something of a respectable businessman on Ord Mantell these days. ’Course I’d bet my left repulsorpack module that he’s still heavily into the smuggling business.”

“Aren’t you afraid he might try to cause trouble for you while we’re there?” Jaina asked. “He could still be holding a grudge.”

Han blew air through his lips. “Not a chance. Been too many years. It’s all lava under the bridge by now.” But Jaina noticed a twinge of concern on his face.

She turned toward the navigation controls. “Time to drop out of hyperspace. We should be pretty close to Ord Mantell.”

Han looked over and smiled at his youngest son. “Well, Anakin, let’s see how your calculations worked out.”

Jaina was pleased to see, as they dropped out of hyperspace, that the Falcon was already so close to the correct position that they were able to slip into orbit with only minor course modifications.

Ord Mantell was a bland planet of average size, with average gravity, and an average atmosphere. Its topography showed the usual landscape variations—mountains, forests, and swamps. Skeins of clouds embroidered white patterns in the sky below. However, for orbital convenience and launching maneuvers, much of the equatorial band across the continents had been settled and converted into spaceports that boasted large docking bays and no-questions-asked cargo-handling policies.

Ord Mantell had some of the most lenient banking laws in the New Republic, famous for their flexibility. Banks there would accommodate anyone, in any line of business. As long as customers didn’t cause trouble, or at least didn’t get caught—and remembered to pay the appropriate landing fees, tariffs, and permit taxes—bankers never interfered.

Han looked over at his daughter. “Ever piloted a ship down from orbit all the way into a docking bay?” he asked.

Jaina brightened. “Nothing as big as the Falcon. I’ve done it with the Rock Dragon quite a few times, though.”

“Well then, this’ll be no problem for you,” Han said, but his lop sided smile twitched slightly, as if he were nervous. Jaina pretended not to notice. “Go ahead and take her down.”

Jaina used the copilot controls to alter their vector and plow into the atmosphere at a shallow angle. While they descended, Anakin helped her to locate a landing beacon from the docking bay at which Han had reserved a berth for the Falcon. He programmed in their landing coordinates.

The atmosphere shone blue on the equator as they dove closer to the surface. Jaina watched the silver-white belt of development that girdled the world resolve itself into a bustling metropolis filled with blocky prefab buildings, large flat rooftops, and countless balconies that extended out far enough for small private craft to launch secretly in the dead of night.

“Most of those buildings don’t have addresses,” Han Solo explained.

“On this planet, if you don’t know where you are and where you’re going, then you don’t belong there.”

“How do people find their way around?” Jacen asked.

“It looks challenging,” Anakin said.

“Except for the Derby, Ord Mantell’s no place for tourists,” Han went on. “People don’t come just to hang around. You can get a lot of things done here if you happen to be willing to bend a few rules—but sightseeing isn’t one of them. This planet’s mainly for passing through, a place to pick up cargo or get a new assignment. Imperials used this system for fleet training maneuvers because the outer planetary orbits are so hazardous. The cometary cloud’s pretty thick—that’s where the course is for the Blockade Runners Derby.”

While Han rambled on, Jaina sweated. She gripped the controls in preparation for landing the big Corellian ship. She didn’t know why she suddenly felt so anxious, but her hands grew damp with perspiration as she brought the Falcon in. Maybe she just wanted her father to be proud of her. Gusty winds swirled around the tall blocky building in the center of her scope. Far below, red, blue, and green ground cars crawled along; illuminated skimmers soared between the buildings in skyward alleys.

“Just take it easy, Jaina. You’re doing fine,” Han said.

“Yeah, don’t sweat it,” Jacen said. “We trust you.”

Jaina paused and let her confidence build, despite the warble of uneasiness she had heard in her twin brother’s voice. She took a deep breath.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” she muttered to herself, and brought the Falcon down toward the big flat rooftop outside the landing bay.

As she approached, running lights illuminated a rectangular slit that yawned open, wide and dark. “Those’re the docking doors, Jaina. You have to float down below. Our berth is in the upper bay.”

Jaina swallowed. She had thought just landing the light freighter on the rooftop would be challenge enough; now she had to slip through this narrow hole that, from this height, looked barely a meter wider than the Falcon’s hull. She couldn’t let anything happen to her dad’s ship.

“May the Force be with you,” she heard Jacen whisper. Then she remembered that her uncle Luke always told them to use their Jedi senses in addition to their training in any skill.

She was a good pilot. And she was a Jedi. She drew a deep breath, let her body relax into the seat.

The Millennium Falcon became part of Jaina, an extension of her mind, and she could sense the distance to the outer walls. She slipped the light freighter between the opening doors without so much as a wobble or a jitter.

Han looked at her in proud amazement. “That’s very smooth, Jaina.”

“Just tell me where to land,” she said. Her fingers danced across the repulsor engine controls. Her calm voice betrayed none of her uneasiness.

“Over there.” Han gestured, and she saw a broad docking bay where a group of people stood waiting to greet them. Amber lights flashed, and someone holding bright laser torches directed the Falcon to its landing place.

With a final hiss, the landing pads touched down on the deck plates.

Jaina felt a thrill of exhilaration. What had she been so worried about?

Han hugged her.

As they all unbuckled their crash restraints and stood up to head for the landing ramp, Han said, “Wonder who’s in our welcoming committee.”

“They could’ve hired musicians… maybe some kind of a band,” Jacen said. “You are an official representative of the New Republic.”

“Not only that,” Han said, brushing the front of his vest. “I’m Grand Marshal of the Blockade Runners Derby. That’s a pretty big honor around these parts.”

Han Solo, along with Anakin, Jacen, and Jaina, hurried to the landing ramp—only to find a group of armed soldiers blocking their exit.

Looming in front of them was a tall, broad-shouldered man who wore a cape and blasters at his hip. Close-cropped moss-green hair covered the top of his head. A band of metal, inset with lights and sensors, encircled his head like a ring around some pale-green planet. The front half of the silver metal band was a visor that completely covered his eyes. The rest of the metal band appeared to be permanently affixed about his ears and the back of his skull. He seemed to be receiving a continuous flow of information through the apparatus, and his lips curled in a sneer. A constantly moving cyberoptical laser sensor burned through a thin slit in the narrow visor, glaring at all of them.

Han Solo stopped in his tracks. His confident expression quickly faded. “Czethros!” he said, a look of disbelief in his eyes.

The sinister-looking man lifted his chin, his gaze frozen in a metal glare. “Han Solo,” he said in a rough, gravelly voice. “I knew if I waited long enough, you’d return to Ord Mantell.”