The Han Solo Adventures by Brian Daley Read Free Book Online Page B

outlaw-tech’s good offices; he and Han had dealt with each other on a number of occasions. Han admired the shifty old man because held been sought by Authority and other official forces for years but never apprehended. Doc had kept himself well buffered, and piped into as many crooked bureaucrats and scuttlebutt sources as anyone Han knew. More than one strike unit had moved against the outlaw-techs only to capture a target area empty of everything but abandoned buildings and useless junk. Doc had joked that he was the only felon in the galaxy who’d have to set up an employee pension plan.
    Threading among disassembled hulks and humming repair docks, Jessa led Han through the largest hangar on the base. At one end, slabs of Permex had been joined into a stark cube of an office. But when its door slid up at her command, Han could see that Doc’s taste hadn’t coarsened. The office featured carpets of Wrodian weave, glittering in rich colors, each one representing generations’ work. There were shelves of rare books, lavish hangings, and paintings and sculpture, some by history’s greatest artists and others by unknowns who’d simply struck Doc’s fancy. There was a monolithic, hand-carved scentwood desk with only one item on it, a holocube of Jessa. In it she was wearing a stylish evening gown, smiling, much more like a pretty girl at her first formal reception than a top-flight outlaw-tech genius.
    “Where’s the old man?” Han asked, seeing the room was empty. Jessa slid into the conform-lounger behind the desk. She clenched her hands on the lounger’s thick, luxurious arms until her fingers made deep indentations.
    “He’s not here, Solo. Doc’s gone.”
    “How informative; I’d never have guessed it just from seeing the room’s empty. Look, Jess, I have no time for games, no matter how much you’d like to play. I want—”
    “I know what you want!” Her face was bitter; it took him by surprise. “No one comes to us unless we know what they want from us. But my father’s not here. He’s disappeared, and nothing I’ve tried has turned up a hint. Believe me, Solo, I’ve tried it all.”
    Han eased down into a seat across the desk from her. Jessa explained, “Doc went off on one of his buying trips—you know, shopping for stuff that would fit the market, or for some customer’s special order. He made three stops and never arrived at the fourth. Just like that. He, three crewmen, and a star yacht just dropped out of sight.”
    Han thought for a moment about the old man with work-hardened hands, a quick, crusty grin, and a halo of frizzy white hair. Han had liked him, but if Doc was gone, that was that. Few people who vanished under circumstances like that ever showed up again. Luck of the draw. Han had always traveled light, with emotional baggage the first thing he jettisoned, and grief was far too heavy to lug around among the stars.
    So that only left thinking, Goodbye, Doc , and dealing with Jessa, the old man’s only surviving kin. But when his brief distraction broke, he saw that she’d studied the entire play of his thoughts on his face. “You got through that eulogy pretty fast, didn’t you, Solo?” she asked softly. “Nobody gets too far under that precious skin of yours, isn’t that so?”
    That pricked him. “If it was me who’d checked out, would Doc have gone on a crying jag, Jess? Would you? I’m sorry, but life goes on, and if you lose sight of that, sweetheart, you’re asking to be dealt out.”
    Her mouth opened to reply, but she thought better of it and changed tack. Her voice became as sharp as a vibro-blade. “Very well. Let’s do business. I know what you’re looking for, the sensor suite, the dish, the Waiver. I can take care of all of it. We got our hands on a sensor suite, powerful, compact, a military package built for long-range scoutships. It found its way to us from a supply depot; got misrouted by a happy coincidence I arranged. I can handle the Waiver,