"Shut up, Threepio," Han said without glancing in the droid's direction.
"Looks like you've got an attitude problem, Han," Lando said with a grin
he knew would annoy his friend. But Han had stepped over the bounds of
common
courtesy with his snappish accusations, and Lando had no intention of
letting
him get away with it.
Han looked ready to explode. Lando couldn't figure out what was bothering
him. "My problem is you've been sabotaging my ship. I don't ever want you
touching her again, do you understand? Get your own ship. Seems to me that
with the million-credit reward you got at the blob races on Umgul, you could
buy just about any ship you want and stop messing around with mine."
"An excellent idea, sir," Threepio added helpfully. "With that amount of
money, General Calrissian, you could indeed buy a fine ship."
"Be quiet, Threepio," Lando said, putting his hands on his hips. "I don't
want to buy another ship, old buddy." He stressed the last two words with
thick sarcasm. "If I can't have the Lady Luck, I want the Falcon. Your wife
is
the Minister of State, Han. You can have the government provide you with any
sort of transport you want--whichyou not get yourself a new fighter right
from
the Calamarian shipyards?"
"I'm certain that could be arranged, sir," Threepio agreed.
"Shut up, Threepio," Han said again, keeping his eyes on Lando. "I don't
want any old ship. The Falcon is mine."
Lando glowered at Han. "You won her from me in a sabacc game, and to tell
you the truth--old buddy--I've always suspected you cheated in that game."
Han became livid, backing away. "You're accusing me of cheating? I've
been called a scoundrel before, but never a cheat! In fact, it seems to me,"
he said in a low, threatening voice, "that you won the Falcon yourself in a
sabacc game before I came along. Didn't you also win the Cloud City Tibanna
gas mines from the former Baron Administrator in a sabacc game? What could
you
possibly have used as collateral for a bet like that? You're a dirty no-good
swindler, Lando. Admit it."
"And you're a pirate!" Lando said, stalking forward, his fists bunched at
his side. He had made his reputation as an expert gambler.
Chewbacca growled from within the Falcon, making loud clangs and thumps
as he extricated himself from the cramped passage. He stumbled down the
entry
ramp and stood gripping the piston supports.
As Han and Lando closed to within striking distance, Threepio wriggled in
between them. "Excuse me, sirs, but might I make a suggestion? If indeed you
both won the ship in a sabacc game, and if you are contesting the results,
could you perhaps simply play another game of sabacc to settle this issue
once
and for all?" Threepio turned his glowing optical sensors first at Lando,
then
at Han.
"I just came down here to get my ship," Han said, "but now you've made it
into a point of honor."
Lando glared at Han without flinching. "I can beat you any day of the
week, Han Solo."
"Not this day," Han said, lowering his voice even further. "But not just
sabacc. We'll make it random sabacc."
Lando raised his eyebrows, but met Han's gaze stare for stare. "Who's
going to keep track of the plays?"
Han jerked his chin to the side. "We'll use Threepio as our modulator.
Goldenrod doesn't have enough brains to cheat."
"But, sir, I really don't have the programming to--was Threepio said.
Han and Lando snapped in unison, "Shut up, Threepio!"
"All right, Han," Lando said, "let's do it before you lose your nerve."
"You're going to lose more than nerve before this game is over," Han
said.
As Lando set up the cards and the sabacc table, Han Solo ushered the last
of the off-duty bureaucrats toward the door of the small lounge. "Ou. Come
on!
We need to use this place for a while."
They grumbled and objected in a variety of languages, but Han assisted
them through the entryway with gentle shoves. "File a complaint with the New
Republic." Then he closed and sealed the door, turning to Lando. "You ready
yet?"
This was far different from the stuffy, smoke-filled parlors where he
used to play sabacc, such as the underground game where he had once won a
planet for Leia in an attempt to buy her affections.
At the sabacc table Lando spread out a handful of rectangular cards with
crystalline screens sandwiched between metal layers. "Ready when you are,
buddy." But he looked uneasy. "Han, we don't really have to do this--was
Han sniffed the air, frowning at the cloying smells of deodorizing mists
and ambassadorial perfumes. "Yes, I do. Leia's been in an accident on one of
her diplomatic missions, and I want to escort her back home, not some
hospital
ship."
"Leia's hurt?" Lando said, standing up in surprise. "So that's what has
been bothering you. Forget it, take the ship. I was just kidding anyway.
We'll
do this some other time."
"No! We do it now, or you'll never be off my case. Threepio, get in here.
What's taking so long?" Han said.
The golden droid scooted in from the back-room computer station, looking
flustered, as usual. "I'm here, Master Solo. I was just reviewing the
sabacc-
rules programming."
Han punched his selections into the console of the bartender droid,
smiling as he selected a fruity, prissy drink for Lando--complete with a
blue
tropical flower as a garnish--and a spiced ale for himself. He sat down,
slid
the drink across the surface to Lando, and sipped his ale.
Lando took a swallow of the mixture, winced, and forced a smile. "Thanks,
Han. Should I deal?" He held the sabacc cards in his hand, leaning over the
table's projecting field.
"Not yet." Han held up a hand. "Threepio, double-check to make sure those
card surfaces are completely randomized."
"But, sir' surely--was
"Just do it. We want to make sure nobody gets an unfair advantage--don't
we, old buddy?"
Lando managed to retain his forced smile as he handed the deck to
Threepio, who ran the cards through a scrambler at the side of the table.
"They are completely mixed, sir."
Threepio meticulously dealt five of the flat metallic cards each to Lando
and to Han. "As you know, this is random sabacc, a combination of variant
forms of the game," Threepio said, as if reciting the programming he had
just
uploaded. "There are five different sets of rules, shifted by chance, and
changed at random time intervals as determined by the computer's random
generator--that's me!"
"We know the rules!" Han growled, but he wasn't so certain. "And we also
know the stakes."
Lando's deep, flinty eyes met his across the table. "Winner takes the
Falcon. Loser takes Coruscant public transit from now on."
"Very well, sirs," Threepio said, "activate your cards. The first player
to reach a score of one hun
dred points will be declared the winner. Our
first
round will be played according to..." He paused briefly as his randomizing
function made a selection from the scrambled list of rules. his-comCloud
City
Casino alternate rules."
Han stared at the images appearing on his cards as his mind raced to
remember how Cloud City Casino rules differed from the Bespin Standard form
of
the game. He stared at a mixed-up assortment of the four suits in sabacc--
sabres, coins, flasks, and staves, with various positive and negative scores
on each.
"Each player may select one and only one of his cards for a spin-change,
and then we tally to see who comes closest to a score of positive or
negative
twenty-three, or zero."
Han scanned his cards, concentrating, but found no set that would add up
to an appropriate tally. Lando wore a broad smile--but Lando always carried
such an expression when he gambled. Han took a sip of his bitter spiced ale,
swallowed hard, and chose a card. "Ready?" He raised his eyes to look at
Lando.
Lando pushed the small scrambler button on the bottom left corner of a
card. Han did the same, watching the image of the eight of coins flicker and
reform into a twelve of flasks. Together with a nine of flasks in his hand,
he
added to twenty-one. Not great. But when he saw Lando scowl at his own new
card, he hoped it would be good enough.
"Twenty-one," Han said, slapping his cards on the table.
"Eighteen," Lando answered with a scowl. "You get the difference."
"Change of rules! Time has elapsed!" Threepio said. "Three points in
favor of Master Solo. Next round is by... Empress Teta Preferred system."
Han looked at his new hand of cards, delighted to see a firm straight--
but, if he remembered right, under Empress Teta rules the players swapped
one
card at random, and when Lando reached over to pluck a card from the right
side, Han hoped to replace it with a Commander of Sabers--but the hand
failed.
Lando won the round and came out with a small lead, but before they could
tally the scores, Threepio chimed in with another "Change of rules!" This
time, scored under the Bespin Standard system, Lando's lead doubled.
Han cursed to himself as he stared at a chaotic mess in the next hand,
not knowing what to bid, what to throw away. Before he made his decision,
though, the random clock in Threepio's electronic brain forced him to call
another rules change. "Corellian Gambit this time, sirs."
Han whooped in delight, for under the new rules the suits fit together
with a completely different pattern. "Gotcha!" he cried, laying down his
hand.
Lando grumbled, showing a wild card that, while valuable only moments
before, now cost him fourteen points under the new scoring system.
Han crept ahead over the next several hands, then lost ground when rules
changed back to Cloud City Casino style, which deemed all wild cards
forfeit.
Han reached forward to snatch one of Lando's cards, just as Lando selected
one
of his cards to change at random. They both froze. "Threepio, tell us again
which rules we're playing under."
"New time interval anyway," the golden droid said. "Change to Bespin
Standard. No, wait--notew time interval again! Back to Empress Teta
Preferred.
"
Han and Lando looked at their new cards again, minds whirling in
confusion. Han took another sip of his spiced ale, and Lando drained his
fruity concoction with a grimace. At the bottom the bright-colored flower
had
begun to sprout writhing roots that crawled on the bottom of his glass.
"Threepio, tell us the scores one more time," Lando said.
"Calculating for the last rules change, sirs, the total is ninety-three
points for Master Solo and eighty-seven for General Calrissian."
Han and Lando glared at each other. "Last hand, buddy," Han said.
"Enjoy your remaining few seconds of ownership, Han," Lando said.
"Corellian Gambit rules, last-hand special case," Threepio announced.
Han felt his head pounding, trying to remember what happened in the last
hand of the Corellian Gambit. Then he saw Lando locking in the denomination
of
only one of his cards, making ready to place his hand into the flux field in
the center of the sabacc table.
Han studied his high-ranking face cards, Balance and Moderation, either
of which would nudge him over the total score of a hundred. He pushed the
retainer button on Balance, for eleven points, then thrust the rest of his
hand into the flux field.
Han and Lando leaned over, staring in suspense as the images on the cards
swirled and changed, flickering from one value to another in a blur until
they
stabilized, one by one.
Lando stared at low-demonination numeric cards, nothing at all
spectacular, while Han got the best deal he had seen throughout the entire
game. All face cards, Demise, Endurance, The Star, and The Queen of Air and
Darkness, along with the Balance card he had kept. His score handily passed
the goal, leaving Lando in the dust.
He cheered at the same instant Threepio declared another "Change of
rules!" Han glared at the golden droid, waiting.
"This hand will be scored under the Ecclessis Figg Variation," Threepio
said.
Han and Lando looked at each other, mouthing the words. "What is the Figg
Variation?"
subtracted instead of added to the final score. This means, Master Solo,
that
while you gain ten points for Endurance and The Queen of Air and Darkness,
you
forfeit a total of forty-one for Balance, The Star, and Demise."
Threepio paused. "I'm afraid you lose, sir. General Calrissian gains
sixteen points for a total score of one hundred three, while you are left
with
a f inal score of sixty-two."
Han blinked in shock at his half-empty glass of spiced ale as Lando
pounded the tabletop in triumph. "Good game, Han. Now go on off to fetch
Leia.
Want me to come with you?"
Han kept staring at the table, at his ale, at anything but Lando. He felt
hollow inside. Not only had he learned of Leia's tragedy today, but he had
also lost the ship he had owned for more than a decade.
"Take her, she's yours," Han mumbled. He finally looked up to meet
Lando's eyes.
"Come on, Han. You're distraught. You never should have made the bet in
the first place. Just--was
"No, the Falcon is yours, Lando. I'm not a cheat, and I made the deal
going into the game." Han stood, turning his back on Lando, leaving the rest
of his ale untouched. "Threepio, authorize a change of registration for the
Falcon. And you'd better get in touch with central transportation control.
Arrange a diplomatic transport for Leia. I won't be picking her up after
all."
Lando shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, I'll take good care of her, Han. Not a
scratc
h."
Without another word Han went to the door of the lounge, unsealed it, and
walked out into the echoing halls.
With black-gloved hands clasped behind her back, Admiral Daala stood at
attention on the bridge of the Imperial Star Destroyer Gorgon.
In front of the bridge viewport, brilliant gases illuminated by a knot of
blue-giant stars turned the Cauldron Nebula into a spectacular light show.
Beside her in parking formation hung the Basilisk and the Manticore. The
ionized gases played havoc with ships' sensors, making the nebula a perfect
hiding place for her three fully armed battleships.
Daala heard a tentative bootstep behind her and turned to face Commander
Kratas. "Yes, Commander?" As she moved, her olive-gray uniform clung like a
second skin, while her mane of coppery hair trailed behind her like the tail
of a comet.
Kratas snapped off a perfect salute and remained standing one step below
her observation platform. "Admiral," he said, "as of oh-nine-hundred hours
we
have completed our assessment of the losses suffered during our battle at
Kessel."
Daala formed her lips into a tight, emotionless line. Kratas was a short
man, recruited into the Imperial Navy from an occupation force on one of the
conscripted planets. He had dark hair trimmed to regulation length, wide
watery eyes set under beetling brows, and a jutting chin that hung below
almost nonexistent lips. The best part of Kratas, though, Daala thought, was
that he always followed orders. He had been trained well in the Imperial
Military Academy on Carida.
"Give me the breakdown, Commander," Daala said.
Kratas did not blink as he rattled off the numbers from memory.
"Together, we lost a total of three TIE squadrons, and of course all hands
and
resources on board the Hydra."
Daala felt a cold stab of anger at the mention of her wrecked battleship.
Kratas must have seen something in her expression, because he flinched,
though
he did not move aside.
The Hydra, Daala's fourth Star Destroyer, had been torn apart in one of
the Maw cluster's black holes. It had been Daala's first significant loss in
combat, one fourth of her destructive capability wiped out by Han Solo and
the
traitorous scientist Qwi Xux, who had stolen the Sun Crusher superweapon and
fled the Empire's closely guarded Maw Installation.
"However," Kratas continued. His voice quavered the smallest bit, then he