“You don’t need to tell me about taking risks,” Han said, standing up. “Taking risks is what I do best.”
“I know,” Scarlet said. “It’s why we need men like you on our side.”
“Damn right you do,” Han said, the words a little less powerful than he’d meant them to be. He stood for a moment. “Are you teasing me?”
A glimmer came to Scarlet’s eyes. “Absolutely not. And I promise as soon as I hear anything important, I’ll make sure you know. Peace?”
“Of course, peace,” Han said, tugging his vest into trim. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“All right then.” Scarlet stood up, too. “I should get back to work.”
“I’ll be at the ship. For what it’s worth, you’re really dressed nicely.”
“I’m really dressed appropriately,” she said.
“Okay, now I know you’re teasing me.”
She laughed and stepped out into the milling crowd. Han hovered for a moment, trying to catch Leia’s eye, but she and the Phindian were deep in conversation. Han made his way to the exit, out through the conclave hive, and into the streets. The night air was cool, and the narrow strip of stars above him gave little natural light to the setting. He itched to be out of the city, off Kiamurr, and anywhere that a massive attack force of Imperial fighters wouldn’t be anytime soon. An old woman driving an even older cargo droid hailed him. The droid’s lift arms had been fitted out with a rough couch. He handed her a few credits and sat on the worn, broken cushions, and in a moment the droid was lumbering through the dim streets. A flock of night birds flew by, their wings rustling in the dark air. Han sighed and opened a connection to the Millennium Falcon. Chewbacca answered it with a long, guttural howl of complaint.
“I’m on my way,” Han said.
The Wookiee howled.
“Well, do you see a massive clot of ships trying to get out of here? No, she didn’t tell them.”
Chewbacca wailed.
“Yes, there’s a problem. There’re always problems. It’s nothing we can’t handle,” Han said, then dropped the connection. “I hope.”
“WELL,” HAN SAID WITH A SIGH, “HERE’S OUR PROBLEM.”
The torpedo that had carried the tracking device onto the Falcon had cut through the hull and embedded itself in a secondary coolant pump. Thick ropy tangles of congealed cooling fluid stretched across the cramped space around it. Several electrical systems had shorted as the conductive slime grounded them out. A tertiary power cable for the aft shield generator had been cut neatly in two by the head of the torpedo.
Chewbacca growled and waved one hairy paw at the mess.
“Yeah, buddy, I hear you,” Han said. He pulled a cutting torch out of his toolbox and crouched next to the missile.
Chewbacca huffed and shook his head.
“Well,” Han said, “yeah, if there’s also a warhead, it might go off. But I’m sort of betting there isn’t. If Baasen wanted us dead, why bother with the tracker? I figure he wants us whole for Jabba.”
The torch sparked to life, and Han started cutting off the tip of the torpedo. The edges of the cut glowed white with heat, droplets of liquid metal falling to the decking and cooling to red. When the tip of the missile rolled away without exploding, Han pointed and said, “See? Told you so.”
Chewbacca, who had backed out of the small compartment and was peering around the corner of the hatch, chuffed out an agreement and came back in to pick it up.
The work went slowly and systematically for several more hours as they cut the rest of the torpedo out. When Han found the tracking device in its guts—a small unit no larger than his two balled fists together—he smashed it with a hammer. Chewbacca carried the irreparable pieces to the ramp and tossed them outside, where a multi-limbed scrap droid picked them up and trundled off with them.
When that was done, they started patching the hull. Leia’s people had scrounged up a few square meters of decent plating, so Chewbacca began cutting the raw metal into the right shapes while Han welded them into place. Smoke and the stink of hot alloy filled the air. Sweat rolled down his back, making his clothes stick to his skin. The compartment was cramped, hot, filled with almost unbreathable air, and after the ballroom, it was where Han Solo finally felt comfortable.
Leia could make her way through both worlds. She could be at home in a soldier’s uniform or a formal gown. She could wield a blaster or a diplomatic speech. If the last few weeks had taught Han anything, it was that he didn’t belong in the civilized part of her world. His place was in the bowels of the Falcon, or the pilot’s seat. Of all the smugglers, pirates, and criminals he’d known in his years living outside the law, the ones who survived were the ones who knew their place. The ones who developed pretensions of respectability usually wound up getting eaten alive by a society they didn’t ever really fit into.
Han ran a weld down a long plate of hull patch, then inspected his work. Smooth, straight, airtight. It felt good to be in a place where he knew what he was doing.
“Ready for that next piece, Chewie,” he said, holding out his hand. There was no reply. He pulled off his goggles and turned around. Chewbacca was gone.
“Blast it.” Han climbed to his feet and stomped off into the corridor. He yelled, “Where’d you go? We’re not done here!”
He turned the corner into the lounge and found Chewbacca standing with Scarlet. She’d changed out of her gown and into a pair of snug black pants and a dark gray top. She was wearing the belt covered with the tools of her trade, and she’d added a compact blaster in a quick-draw-style holster. Her hair was still up in a bun with sticks pushed through it, though with the new outfit the style looked functional rather than elegant.
“What’s all this?” Han asked.
Chewbacca started to growl out an explanation, but Scarlet cut him off. “You’re not done? What’s not done? Please tell me the Falcon can fly.”
Han shrugged. “Got a sliced power cable, but I’ve capped off the coolant leak until we can replace it. Hull’s patched. She can fly. You two finally come to your senses?” Without waiting for an answer, Han handed the torch and goggles to Chewbacca. “See if you can get that cable spliced while we’re waiting for Her Worshipfulness to get on board.”
Chewbacca took the tools with a growl and headed off. Han began mentally going through the list of rendezvous points for reconnecting with the rebel fleet.