Honor Among Thieves

When it didn’t, he called Chewbacca.

“Hey, pal, how’s it looking?”

The Wookiee growled through a lengthy description of the damaged systems on the Falcon, then ended with an angry description of his feelings at being stuck with all the repair work.

“Yeah, sorry about that. We’ve checked in with Leia, but she doesn’t want to leave until she gives another speech, and Scarlet finds this Maas character.”

Chewbacca growled and snorted.

“Yes, I did tell her. She apparently doesn’t find that as urgent as I do. It’s Leia. You can’t tell that woman anything.”

Chewbacca barked out a Wookiee laugh.

“Speaking of which, you got that torpedo pulled out of the Falcon?”

Chewbacca growled at him.

“Yes, I know it would go faster if I was there. I’ll be there, but I’m going to poke around here a little bit first. See if I can find out what we’re getting ourselves into.”

After a final barrage of accusatory barks, Chewbacca closed the connection. Han looked back up at the sky. No Imperial fleet in orbit throwing fire and death. Strolling citizens chatted quietly, not running and screaming. The buildings gleamed in the sun instead of burning. Death had not come to Kiamurr.

Not yet.

The first bar he found was a structure made entirely of blue crystal and soft, velvety moss. He sat with a crew of gray-faced Neimoidians in elaborate hats who were happy to complain about the strictures of Imperial customs officials and how expensive they were to bribe. When Han angled the conversation around to Essio Galassian and Hunter Maas, he got blank stares and shrugs.

The next place was a dive cantina just outside the conclave itself on a narrow side street where the bouncer, a green-scaled reptilian Barabel who looked like he’d have been as happy to start a fight as stop one, let him through with a scowl. Han sat at the bar, with alpif music shrieking out from the stage like a cross between a landslide and the galaxy’s longest-running catfight. He struck up conversations with the barkeep and a Sullustan with ornate tattoos on his dewflaps and ears who claimed to have known Essio Galassian personally. It took Han buying three rounds for the diminutive Sullustan to be certain he was a blowhard making up stories to keep the liquor flowing.

The third bar was a temporary structure in a ballroom that was being rearranged. Droids were setting up tables and chairs, enough to seat several hundred. At one end of the room a small stage had been erected with a podium. The room was so large that even with dozens of tables and hundreds of chairs scattered through it, it looked empty. The murals of the jagged mountains surrounding the conference center that adorned the walls struck Han as silly. Why put up a bunch of walls to block the view, and then paint the view on the walls?

At the base of a painted mountain, a droid behind a long bar served drinks to half a dozen people, including two brown-robed delegates. Han ordered a Seikoshan whiskey. The sharp liquor burned his throat going down, but did help clear his head a bit. Knowing he’d have to meet up with Leia again in just a few hours, Han nursed the drink.

“I agree,” someone said to his left. A man in plain gray clothes with no badges or sashes designating rank. He was holding up a glass of brandy in salute. When Han nodded to him, the man tipped his glass and tossed off the rest. “The only way to survive these things is with a touch of the liquid excitement.”

Han smiled noncommittally and sipped at his drink.

“I’m here with a trade alliance,” the man said. “Non-guild.”

Smugglers, Han thought. “Me, too.”

“I’ll drink to that!” the man said.

I’d bet you’d drink to anything. Han smiled and took another tiny sip. “Say, you know a guy named Hunter Maas? Runs with the Sendavé Collective?”

“Weapons,” the man replied, showing that he, at least, knew what the collective was. “Don’t deal much in weapons.”

“I’ve got some personal business with Maas, so trying to track him down. Heard he’d be here.”

“Blood, money, or love?”

“Would you believe none of those?” Han asked.

“No!” The man guffawed at him. “No, I would not. But it’s not my business anyway. Only know the collective by reputation, and that’s all bad. Sorry I can’t help.”

“It was a long shot,” Han said. “What about Essio Galassian?”

“Name rings a bell. Heard of a human went by something like that. Antiquities dealer. Explorer. But not for his main line. Doing it for love, not money. Hooked up with the Empire somehow.”

“That’s the one.”

“I’ve heard he’s a sadistic animal,” the man said with a shrug.

“Well, that’ll make him stand out from the Imperial crowd,” Han said drily, and his companion laughed. “Let me get you the next one.” He waved at the bartender droid and pointed at the smuggler’s empty glass.

“Thank you, friend,” the man said. “A generous soul is its own reward. You have business with this Galassian, too?”

“Might. It’s a little hard to say right now. Sort of depends on how the rest of this conference plays out,” Han replied.

The man shrugged, thick shoulders rolling under his loose gray shirt. “It’s good for picking up new contracts with like-minded folks. That’s why my group comes. But do I think this ends with everyone holding hands and pledging to end the Empire? No. And only a fool thinks otherwise. The Empire isn’t going anywhere, no matter how many battle stations the rebels manage to blow up. If that even happened.”

“Pretty confident it did.”

“That’s as it may be, but I haven’t seen any rebel fleets winning victories in my stretch of space. We’re still sneaking past Star Destroyers to make our runs and dodging Imperial tax collectors at the ports. If the rebels are winning, I can’t tell.”

It was like talking to an older version of himself. The man sitting next to him was who he would have been in a few years if he’d never dumped that cargo of Jabba’s and gotten himself in enough trouble to take Luke and Ben Kenobi on their suicide mission. He’d be sitting in bars, talking about the fact of Imperial rule and the fantasy of a rebellion actually winning. It gave Han a strange sense of disconnection. Like he was watching the conversation from outside.

“That Alderaanian princess, though,” the man continued after a few moments. “She’s something else, isn’t she?”