Марта Уэллс - From a Certain Point of View

Sunnari went silent. Anything she said would only worsen her position. Unfortunately, one of her passengers—an opulently dressed Twi’lek—did not understand that important point. “These ships are the property of the Besadii! Your kind has no business here.”

“Our kind?” Dengar’s brows rose playfully. “Let me tell you something, friendo. Our kind wouldn’t exist except for people like you. People like you who are either too cowardly to deal with the problems your greed creates, or else so heinous that totally decent folks decide that their only hope at making things right is our kind. ”

“It is still not time for poetry, Dengar.” The droid’s scold worked only to confuse the passengers. “Regardless, you have given us something more valuable than any currency. You and the Besadii have committed high crimes against the Empire, in the form of the theft and exchange of Imperial military vessels.”

Dengar unfolded the rest of IG-88’s thoughts for Sunnari, the Twi’lek gambler, and the others aboard. “You might not have a bounty yet, but when we report all this to our contacts in the Empire, well.” A grin took over his face. “Might as well put you all down right now, let you rot in storage until we collect.”

Sunnari shook her head. “No.” Just like Dengar had hoped, she was a born survivor just like him. She would not die here, and would not spend the rest of her life fleeing from an Imperial warrant. “No. We can work this out.”

“Well.” Dengar accented the word with a bend of his waist. “That is exactly what we were hoping to hear, isn’t that right, Iggy?”

IG-88 said nothing, simply rotated his head sections to add a degree of extra intimidation.

“I have something. It’s the second prize. Beskar. You know beskar ?”

Dengar was almost insulted. “Yes, we know beskar. It’s Mandalorian metal. Strong, but flexible.”

“Well, I’ve got a pouch of it in my quarters.” IG-88’s optics rotated and zoomed, tracking sweat, heat, blood pressure. She was telling the truth.

Dengar, though, was less concerned about honesty and more about value . “A pouch ?”

“A big pouch.”

“A big pouch?”

“Well, a decent-sized pouch, anyway. And it’s all yours if you go on your way and give me your word that you will not report…our activities.”

“What do I want with beskar ? I want Solo !” Dengar’s eyes narrowed.

The droid’s scans lit up as Sunnari reacted to Dengar’s sudden burst of anger. First, a brief moment of fear, and then recognition, and finally, a flood of worry. Sunnari had clearly heard of Han Solo, but with the way her eyes moved, the speed of her blinking, and micro-movements in her fingers, it was clear to IG-88 that she couldn’t provide intelligence on the smuggler’s whereabouts.

“Disregard my associate’s words. This is an adequate bribe.”

Dengar’s head dropped, the growing rage vented by the shocking bluntness of IG-88’s response. He’d have to correct the droid’s etiquette later.

“Is it a deal?”

“Iggy, you better explain what you’re thinking.”

“I will explain when we return to your ship. We accept this deal. Provide the beskar in the next three minutes, or I will begin executing your crew.”

“You are terrible at this, Iggy.” Dengar raised his hands as if to defuse the situation. “You need to understand. He’s an assassin droid. He doesn’t really get all this, you know? Just get us the damn beskar and we’ll be on our way.”

—

By the time the two bounty hunters had jumped into hyperspace, word would’ve already been sent back to Nal Hutta. But that was of no concern to IG-88 and only a receding one for Dengar, who had already begun to play the angles in his head. He could go see that Hutt on Tatooine, maybe. If he was remembering right, the two Hutt families had little love lost between them.

“You did well, Corellian.” IG-88 did not turn his head this time. “We have not captured Solo. By the terms of our agreement, our arrangement will continue. Until we catch Solo.”

“ ‘Until we catch Solo’? Droid, maybe you haven’t noticed, but Solo is in the wind. We don’t have a single lead.”

“We have the beskar. ”

“The beskar is not Solo. ”

“It is Mandalorian metal. Fett wears Mandalorian armor. It will have value to him.”

“So we set a trap. Or we tell him we want to negotiate!”

“Yes. We have many options. I am presently simulating three thousand potential variations on our next encounter with Fett.”

“You’re…” A sigh of relief, and a sudden query. “Listen, Iggy. I get the impression you don’t like us. ‘Organics,’ I mean. So why work with me to begin with? There were other droids on this hunt.”

“You are correct. Organics are irrational, sentimental, and dangerously optimistic.”

“Yeah, mate. I know. That’s what I mean, stuff like that. No need to rub it in.”

With a whir, the assassin droid turned to face his partner in crime. “I am not ‘rubbing it in.’ I am explaining why I made this decision. People make the most inadvisable decisions. Solo more than most.”

“So, what, it’s a you have to fight fire with fire kind of thing?”

“That is thirty-seven percent of the benefit. The remaining value rests in your ability to serve as an erratic distraction.”

A bright smile cracked across the scarred face of Dengar, Corellian bounty hunter. “That right there, that was a joke, droid.”

IG-88, with a tone so dry that only another elite assassin droid could be sure it was meant to be humorous, emitted a short reply.

“Absolutely not.”

BESPIN ESCAPEMartha Wells

Lonaste woke to her cousin Beetase standing over her and shouting. This behavior wasn’t unusual in her clan, and Lonaste was groggy from a double shift in the reclamation pits. She swatted at Beetase and groaned, “Stop it.”

Beetase shook her urgently. “Wake up! There’s an evacuation alert!”

Lonaste blinked up at her, the frightened tone in Beetase’s voice penetrating. The warning message blared from just outside the door. “What—” Lonaste flailed out of her warm blankets and flung herself upright. “What is—”

Beetase grabbed Lonaste’s shoulders. Her expression was stricken, her white hair standing up in untamed wisps. “You were right. It’s happening.”

Lonaste’s heart plummeted toward her feet. She pulled her coat on over her nightclothes and lurched out the open door of her podroom. Out on the walkway, the small messenger droid raced away, still blaring the evacuation alert. The message echoed down all four levels of Cloud City’s Ugnaught Town, where the inhabitants crowded out onto the walkways and platforms, frantic and confused, their worried voices adding to the din.

Lonaste found herself equally frantic but not confused. It was the Imperials. The Imperials were taking over Cloud City. You planned for this, she told herself, you knew this was coming. She had never believed in Bespin’s neutral status; no planet was neutral, if it had something the Empire wanted. But the reality was a cold shock. She said, “How close are they? Do we know?”

Beetase waved her arms. “No idea! The others are gathering—”

Lonaste hurried for the stairs, and Beetase clattered after her.

She reached the door of their clan meeting room on the level below and pushed inside. The whole family was there, aunts, uncles, all the cousins and their children. “There you are!” cousin Jamint said, as if Lonaste had been hiding. “We need you to tell us—”