Chewbacca howled and waved his arms around, pointing out the scale of the city and the size of the Imperial presence.
“Well, we’ll just be careful, won’t we?” Han said, annoyed. “We’ll hit the port bars first.”
Growling to himself, Chewbacca shrugged and started walking alongside Han.
“And if we keep a bright smile and a jaunty step, we’re just two more loyal and happy subjects of the Empire, right? No reason for anyone to stop us.”
If Chewbacca was unconvinced, he kept it to himself.
Han walked back toward the dock district where they’d left the Falcon, using as a landmark a particularly tall building with a copper-colored top that angled up like a spear point. He hoped there weren’t two of them. He kept an eye out for a map or an information kiosk, but this area of the city seemed to be primarily warehouse space; there were far more droids than people, and almost nothing in the way of services for humans. Heavy lifting droids moved massive crates from building to building, and smaller tech droids—R2 and R3 units, for the most part—zipped about on obscure tasks. Occasionally, a squad of stormtroopers moved past in the distance, making Han change course to avoid crossing paths.
A street-sweeping droid rolled by, beeping quietly to itself as it scrubbed a stretch of walkway covered by an oil spill from a malfunctioning lifter. An eye on a long stalk tracked Han and Chewbacca as they walked by it. Han nodded to it as they passed.
“See?” Han began. “You just have to look like you belong—”
“Halt,” the cleaning droid said in a deep mechanical voice. “Present valid identification for foot traffic in warehouse sector eleven-B, or wait for Imperial officers to detain you.”
“Sorry, but we’re pretty busy,” Han said, giving the droid his best smile. “So we’ll just—”
“Halt,” the droid said again. Pieces of its silver shell slid apart, and half a dozen weapons appeared. “Present valid identification for foot traffic in warehouse sector eleven-B, or wait for Imperial officers to detain you.”
A port irised open, and a smaller sensor device protruded from it. It waved at them for a moment, then the droid said, “Weapon detected. Drop all weapons and place your hands or manipulating appendages in the air.”
Chewbacca dropped the coat-wrapped bowcaster and put his arms in the air. One long, multi-jointed arm darted out from the droid and picked up the package. The stalk-mounted eye stayed locked on Han. “Place your hands or manipulating appendages in the air.”
“Yeah,” Han said with sigh. “Already been taken captive once today, so pretty much at my limit.”
“Raise your hands,” the droid insisted stubbornly.
Han took a step toward the droid, and it rolled back an equal distance, its eye never moving.
“I bet you street-sweeping droids aren’t really allowed to kill the citizens for something like not having the right identification.”
“You’d be correct,” a voice said from behind. “But I am.”
Chewbacca growled out an angry rebuke.
“I only have eyes on the front,” Han said, raising his hands and turning around slowly. “You’re supposed to be watching behind.”
Chewbacca shrugged.
A smiling Imperial soldier held a blaster pointed casually at Han. He wore the black uniform of a junior officer, and carried himself with the smug certainty common to his rank.
“You may carry on with your duties,” the officer said, and for a moment Han thought he was being let go. Then he heard the whine of the retreating droid.
“Officer, we’re—”
“Involved in that disturbance at the docks, like as not,” the officer finished for him.
Han took a step back and to the side, trying to get Chewbacca into the trooper’s blind spot. The officer shook his head and stepped back to keep them both in view.
“Please stop,” the trooper said. “I have men on their way, and it really does look better on the reports if I take you alive.”
Chewbacca roared and the officer spun toward him. He was just starting to turn back when Han hit him with a hard, straight kick in the midsection. The officer stumbled back, but he grabbed Han’s boot on the way down, pulling Han with him. The struggle was brief, and afterward Chewbacca helped him drag the dazed trooper into an alley. A few minutes later, Han emerged wearing an Imperial uniform.
Chewbacca eyed him critically and growled.
“Yeah, laugh it up,” Han said, straightening his sleeves and pulling on the officer’s black cap. “At least this way I can wear a blaster. You’re heading back to the ship.”
Chewbacca growled.
“Yeah, but we’re not going to find one of these Imperial outfits in your size, and they’re on the lookout for us right now. Not me. So head back to the ship and get it warmed up. I’ll find Hark and we’ll get the hell out of here.”
Chewbacca gave a questioning whine.
“I got a better idea,” Han said holding up the officer’s datapad. “I’d be willing to bet our boy Japet is on the Imperial watch lists. Known associates and hangouts. I’m an Imperial now. So I’ll just look him up.”
Chewbacca barked out another long laugh.
“Come on,” Han said. “I can’t always be wrong.”
KINNEL PERSI, DATA TECHNICIAN FOURTH CLASS, sighed, pulled up another entry on his monitor, and shook his head. Around him, the data-control center was busy as a hive. At the next desk, Miki shook her head in sympathy and tried not to grin. Secretly, Kinnel was enjoying her attention.
“How about Japet Saun, sir?” he said.
“Maybe,” Lieutenant Hannu Sololo said, in the earpiece. “What’s his background?”
“His NS-profile, sir?”
“Sure. That.”
Kinnel tapped through the screens. “Larceny. Served two years in the work camp on Mangan Three. No present known address.”
“Any known … um … rebel associations?”
Kinnel closed his eyes. “Would you like me to check the PF-profile, too, sir?” Miki giggled, pressing the back of her hand to her lips.
“Yes. Do that,” Sololo said.
Kinnel clicked through. “You know, you have access to all these files on your datapad, sir.”
“Mine’s malfunctioning. The encryption protocol, um, needs upgrading.”
“Maybe I can help you with that?”
“Just read me his PF-profile.”