“Maybe we should make a new one.”
“Working on that.”
“Once again,” Han said. “Planning. Not our strong suit.”
“We can hold him as hostage,” Baasen said.
“What will happen,” Galassian said, his voice calm, almost amused, “is that you will put down your arms, surrender yourselves to me, and hope that I’m feeling merciful. You have blasters? I am wielding the greatest weapon the galaxy has ever seen.”
Baasen held up his blaster. “Our matched fours beats your high single, seems to me.”
Scarlet shushed him.
“Bigger guns,” Galassian went on, returning his gaze to the glass table. “Stronger blasters. Blowing up planets. It’s all well and good. Controlling who can speak, now? Who can travel? That’s power. The only use of violence is to convince people to do what you demand. If you have the power to simply enforce your will, why bother with wars? Rebellions? The Emperor will disband the fleet. There will be no need for it. Your kind is dead, and I’m at the trigger.”
Han shifted to the right. The grating under his feet rang a little with each footstep. Galassian glanced up at him, sneered, and looked away. The wind tugged at his robes.
“You know what the Emperor will do with this,” Leia said. “It won’t be your power. It’ll be his.”
“My ambitions are small. Go wherever I wish. Do whatever I wish. Have worlds bow down before me,” Galassian said. “I’ll do quite well on his table scraps. But thank you for thinking of me.”
“Enough of this,” Baasen said, raising his blaster, and for once Han agreed. His finger twitched, but as the shot went off, Galassian gestured at him. One of the floating droids whipped out like an extension of his hand and knocked Han back. The bolt from his blaster passed over Galassian’s shoulder, and Han struggled to keep his feet. Baasen, struck by the second droid, fell against the steel grating with a crash and a rush of breathless swearing. The droid swung down again, catching him hard in the ribs. Baasen rose to his knees, grabbed his side, and sank back to the floor. His face was flushed with pain and anger.
“Surrender now,” Leia said, “and I’ll see to it you aren’t abused.”
“Princess, take your servants, lay down your weapons, and stop wasting my time. I have many, many things to do that are all more interesting than you.”
Leia shifted to the left, spreading out the group. It would be harder for Galassian’s droids to block them all if they weren’t so close together. Han followed her lead, moving a little more to the right.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Leia said. “The Star Destroyer that brought you here is already vapor and meteors. A rebel attack group is preparing to jump into the system. And you’re outnumbered four to one.”
“Three to one,” Galassian said, and before any of them could respond, he lifted both hands toward her, shouting. Leia shrieked as the paired droids swooped down, struck her in the belly and chest, lifted her from her feet, and threw her to the edge of the grate. And over it. Han’s chest went hollow, and he rushed toward Galassian, blaster firing as Scarlet lunged for Leia.
Galassian turned on Han. The man’s face twisted in a mask of inhuman rage. Han shot him.
Galassian stepped back as the bolt struck his chest. The surprise in his expression spoke of affront: You presume to hurt me?
“He’s wearing armor!” Han shouted.
“So shoot his head, boyo!” Baasen shouted. Leia was screaming. Han glanced past Galassian to the edge of the platform. Scarlet lay flat, her chest and arms out over the void, her legs just beginning to tip up and over. From where Han stood, Leia was a flutter of motion and a sense of determined struggle.
A streak of silver went past him, and Han shot. Years of practice and reflex paid off, and one of the droids fell out of the air, clanging on the decking and rolling toward the edge of the platform. Han dodged the second one. It seemed to have sprouted knives. Behind him, Baasen yelped.
Galassian’s hand closed over Han’s like a vise. The bones in Han’s wrist popped, and a bright pain shot through his fingers as Galassian twisted the blaster away, holding it loosely in his left hand. The universe seemed to narrow to just the two of them as Han wondered what it would be like to be killed with his own weapon. He swung his other fist, and Galassian blocked it. Hitting the man’s arm was like punching concrete, but Han did it again. Galassian struck back, hitting Han’s face. His nose stung, and the taste of blood filled his mouth. The world seemed to ring like a gong.
Scarlet shifted. Only one hand was down to Leia. The other scrabbled desperately at her belt, looking for some tool. Galassian followed Han’s glance, smiled, and shot Scarlet in the leg with Han’s blaster. The spy yelped in pain, but she didn’t drop the Princess or stop what she was doing. Han swung his elbow against Galassian’s ear, and this time the strike had some effect. Galassian took two steps back and turned the blaster toward Han.
A bright bolt from Baasen burned the air. The old Mirialan was on his knees now, resting his firing hand on his stump. Galassian gestured toward him, and the remaining droid swept in toward Baasen’s face, driving him against the wall and then looping around for another attack. The distraction was enough. Han grabbed his blaster, still in Galassian’s grip, and twisted. Galassian bent his knees and turned.
The enemy was solid, strong, and implacable. Centimeter by centimeter, the blaster’s barrel moved toward Han. Galassian pulled the trigger, and the blast singed Han’s ear and filled the air with the stink of burning hair. Behind them something popped, and a thin line of cord, bright as a spiderweb in the gloom, shot up from where Scarlet and Leia struggled. Scarlet’s grapnel line. Leia cried out.
Han put all his strength into moving the blaster away, but it continued to turn toward him. Galassian’s grin was bloody, his teeth turned crimson. His eyes widened with the prospect of Han’s death.
Baasen plowed into them both, slamming his full weight against them. Han sprawled out on the grate, disoriented and half convinced he’d been shot. Galassian kept his feet, but Baasen was before him, hammering at his throat with his one good fist. Behind them, Leia had her hands back on the decking and was pulling up her knee. The thin cord of Scarlet’s grapnel was wrapped around her. Scarlet rolled to her side, blaster up, waiting for a chance to end Galassian, but Baasen was blocking her shot.
Galassian fell back a step under the rage and violence of Baasen’s attack. There was blood pouring from half a dozen cuts on the man’s face and from Baasen’s knuckles. When the blaster shots went off—three in close succession—Han thought at first it was Scarlet. Then Baasen slipped down, smoke rising from his chest and a surprised expression on his face. He grabbed at the edge of Galassian’s robes with his one hand, the stump of the other brushing against it as the missing fingers tried to find some purchase.