Han Solo turned in his pilot’s seat. “You don’t need to be a Jedi to use a lightsaber, kids,” he said, still trying to make a gesture of peace toward Anja. “Fact is, I used your uncle Luke’s lightsaber on Hoth, to cut open a tauntaun so we’d have a place to keep warm until I could set up a snow shelter.” Anja looked at her weapon again, studied the ancient carvings and scrollwork on its handle. She shrugged. “I can fight with reckless enthusiasm and enough skill to overpower any opponent I’ve encountered so far. It doesn’t matter whether the Force is with me or not.”
Fifteen hours later, the Falcon dropped out of hyperspace at the edge of the Anobis system.
In the cockpit Jaina sat with Zekk looking over her shoulder at the copilot controls. The darkhaired young man seemed intrigued by the systems of the modified light freighter.
“I can fly this ship,” he,aid.
“No you can’t,” Han answered.
“In theory, I meant,” Zekk said. “The Lightning Rod’s very similar, only a little smaller and designed to be flown by only one person.”
He looked down at the sensor array that scanned space in front of them.
He pointed to the small blip just as Jaina herself noticed it.
“There’s another ship sharing our course,” Zekk said.
“We’re approaching pretty fast. That ship doesn’t seem to be in much of a hurry,” Jaina said. “Must be a cargo hauler.”
Zekk nodded. “It has smaller engines, a bulky design. Not built for speed. It’s a cargo hauler all right.”
“Better let them know we’re here.” Han Solo leaned forward to the comm unit and opened a hailing frequency. “Ship ahead, this is the Millennium Falcon. Looks like we’re on the same heading. Please identify yourself.” Instead, the small hauler released a cluster of metallic spheres that drifted in space for a few seconds before exploding in a blossom of multicolored fire. Then the ship jinked to the right, altered course, and swept downward using its low-power engines. The Falcon dodged the debris and rapidly closed the distance.
“Space mines,” Zekk said.
“Again? Does he think he’s running his own Derby out there?” Jaina asked.
“We’ll catch up to him in no time,” Zekk said. “He’s got no chance of outrunning the Falcon.”
The pilot ahead seemed to realize the same thing. He returned to his course and responded over the comm system. “H-hello, Millennium Falcon. This is Lilmit, captain of the Rude Awakening—an officially licensed cargo hauler from Ord Mantell. M-m-my apologies for that accidental release a minute ago. Our defensive systems malfunctioned and identified you as an enemy. I trust no one was injured?”
Han grunted. He nudged the Falcon closer to the other ship.
“What’s your destination, Lilmit?”
“Anobis. I’ve g-got some important… supplies to deliver.”
Anja glanced up from where she sat behind an invisible psychological wall that cut her off from the companions. She came forward to the cockpit.
“He must mean food and medicinal supplies,” Jaina said, not realizing that Han still had the comm circuit open.
“N-not, uh, exactly, Millennium Falcon,” Lilmit said. “But my c-cargo is important to the war effort, nevertheless.”
Anja moved farther into the cockpit. “He’s running weapons,” she said. Her voice dripped with scorn.
“Lilmit, this is Han Solo, a special emissary from the New Republic. I’ll be coming aboard for a brief inspection.” He brought the Falcon so close to the small cargo hauler that their hulls nearly touched.
“Y-Y-You what?” Lilmit stammered. The Rude Awakening put on a burst of speed that the Falcon easily matched. “Y-you have no right to detain my ship. I’m-I’m officially licensed.”
“Then we should have no problem. Besides, I’m well aware of how much a license from Ord Mantell is worth,” Han said, “and exactly how much one costs.” He glanced at Anja. Her face bore a troubled expression.
“Are you ready to be boarded?” he said into the comm system.
The two ships flew along side by side, nearly touching, but Lilmit still refused to answer. Han extended his grappling hook and attached the docking field. “Let’s do this peacefully, Lilmit. Don’t make me blast you and take over the wreck of your ship. It’d be a heck of a lot of trouble for both of us.”
The other pilot mumbled something unintelligible, which Em Teedee offered to relay, but the young Jedi Knights quickly assured him that some things were better left untranslated.
“C-c-come on aboard, then,” Lilmit grumbled. “B-but you’re delaying my delivery. I’m perfectly legal.”
“His actions suggest otherwise,” Tenel Ka said.
The docking clamp engaged with a loud metallic clank, and after a hiss of air equalization, both ships were ready. “I’m going across first, kids,” Han said, taking the lead. “Just in case there’s a trap.”
“If it’s a trap, Dad,” Jaina said, following close behind him, “you’ll need us next to you, not hiding inside the Falcon.”
Han looked over his shoulder and cocked an eyebrow at her. “You know, you may be right.”
He opened the hatch and quickly descended into the smaller ship.
Anja’s face contained a thunderstorm of anger in anticipation of what she knew they would find aboard the smuggler’s ship.
Lilmit, a small grayish-skinned man, had winglike eyebrows and a wrinkled, ridged scalp. He met them with frowns and flailing hands.
Jaina noticed that his fingertips were connected by thin translucent webs of skin. Finally, he forced a ridiculously fake smile onto his face.
“I Han Solo! W-welcome aboard my ship,” he said. “It’s not in very g-good condition, but it’s paid for. I’ve had it for many years—and this war on Anobis has been providing some of our best business since the Empire fell.” He rambled on, his tone obsequious. “We’ve g-g-got a lot in common, don’t we? You used to be a smuggler yourself. Y-you ran spice for Jabba the Hutt, didn’t you?”
“Nearly cost me my life a few times,” Han answered. “It’s been decades since I ran those kinds of risks for a quick profit.”
Lilmit sighed. “If only we c-could kick back in a cantina on Ord Mantell, sh-share a Rhuvian fizz or some Osskom ale. Then we’d have time to socialize.”
“I’m not here to socialize, Lilmit,” Han said coldly. “We’re here to check out your ship’s cargo.”
Anja snatched out her lightsaber, switching it on so that its acid-yellow glare flooded the small compartment. “Show us your cargo now!” Lilmit recoiled, holding up his webbed hands. “It’s j-just my usual run! I’ve been doing this for years. N-nobody’s ever bothered me before.”
“Then today’s your lucky day,” Zekk said, standing close to Anja.
The young woman, tall and slender, had a sort of animal energy that dominated the room. Zekk had no lightsaber himself. Jaina, Jacen, Tenel Ka, and Lowie did not draw their weapons, though the smuggler could surely see them at their sides.
“All right, all right. C-come with me.”
Inside the cargo hold they found crates filled with munitions: blasters, burrowing detonators, sonic punchers, and other explosive devices.
“Just as I thought,” Anja said. She pointed to the box of sonic punchers. “He’s taking these weapons to the enemy.”
“War material is forbidden, even for smugglers,” Han Solo said. “I can’t remember the exact statute or regulation in the New Republic charter, but I’m sure that’s the case.”
“I would be pleased to look it up for you, Master Solo,” Em Teedee volunteered. Lowie rumbled that it didn’t matter at the moment.
Lilmit looked completely flustered. “I’m m-merely trying to make a living. There’s a good m-market for these things on Anobis. There’s quite a demand. P-people need to defend themselves.”