| abstract | - It was nearing the end of the night, and Garris Shrike had them all on board the Trader’s Luck standing in a line to see what the children had. Shrike inspected each of them in turn, giving nothing more than a nod of approval from the night’s work. Last of all in line was Han Solo, with a depreciating glance he asked the boy if he had anything. With a complete expressionless face, Han handed over an expensive-looking comm unit he had swiped from a house after giving the stranger directions to Viceroy Gunray’s place. For a moment Shrike was impressed, then a crack in the unit’s housing caught his eye. With a thin vibroshif Shrike opened the slit and peeled away a thin cover to reveal something else. Something else much less valuable. “You see this?” he demanded. “It’s a forgery, stuff to make it look like something it’s not.” “It’s pretty convincing…” Han said but this was clearly the wrong thing to say. “Of course it is!” Shrike spat. “It’s designed to fool the clients of idiot dealers as well as the likes of you, Solo.” He let the comm unit fall from his grasp, it was no surprise when it split into pieces on the floor. Han watched it for a moment, remembering how he had escaped before with the help of that stranger. Shrike grabbed the boy’s collar and dragged him forward. “Now listen, we’re leaving this dump in four hours,” he growled, shaking Han like a dead fish and then pushing him back. “You come back here with something worthwhile and I might consider taking you along.” Han ignored this threat, more than once it had been thrown in his face and he knew that he was too valuable to Shrike for it ever to be followed through. Still, that didn’t stop him wanting to leave this outfit. That urge had been stronger ever since the Wookiee Dewlanna had died three years ago protecting Han and the children from blaster fire during their escape from the attack on Yag’Dhul. Shrike’s hands closed over Han’s throat. “Understand?” “Yeah,” Han said casually, not caring the least how Shrike reacted. The moment Shrike let go he was out of the ship but in no hurry, he knew they would wait and he cared little for that fact. It was the constant threat that the Jedi would kill him that made Nute Gunray do as he was told. This was all under protest, he had been more than familiar of Anakin Skywalker ever since Naboo when he had penetrated the Trade Federation’s defences in a starfighter at the age of nine. Yet now he felt dishevelled and inadequate, mainly because the Jedi had refused to let him change into his customary clothing that indicated his status. Instead of the large headdress and coloured jewellery, he wore only a plain cloak over his night time attire and could have passed for any old Neimoidian which was what Anakin’s intention had been. Gunray could not be seen leaving Etti IV. “Hurry up!” Anakin barked as he was marched through his house to the hangar where he kept a small airspeeder. Gunray started to get into the back passenger compartment. “No!” The Jedi forcibly pushed him into the front passenger seat and cuffed him to the door. “You don’t trust me?” asked the Viceroy in a small voice. “Not in the least,” Anakin growled, starting the airspeeder and making off at a rocketing pace. Yet near the spaceport he saw something that disturbed him: brown uniforms. The Espos were questioning everyone who was going in or out, and there were far too many for even Anakin to con his way through with the Force. He glared at the Viceroy. “Did you do this?” Gunray stared at him blankly for a moment. “Did I do…? No, of course not!…What are you talking about?” Anakin ignored him, he was going to have to play this carefully. He set the speeder down some distance from the spaceport, forcing the Viceroy out and applying a pair of stun cuffs beneath the Neimoidian’s cloak. “If you try anything it’ll be the last thing you’ll ever do,” he warned. “You’re not armed at the moment,” Gunray scoffed. Anakin scowled at him. “I don’t need to be armed!” he snarled. “I can break your neck with barely a movement or close your windpipe, would you like to try it?” Gunray paled and stammered that there was no need, he understood perfectly. As they approached the spaceport they were stopped by a security officer, Anakin tried to act nonchalant as if it were nothing more than a hindrance but his heart was pounding inside his ears. “We really have to get going,” he told the Espo nodding to Gunray, “he’s in a bit of a hurry.” “I'm sure he is,” the security officer drawled, “but it’ll take even more time if you don’t show me your identification.” Anakin decided it was now or never, he reached into the Force and made a subtle gesture with his hand. “You don’t need to see my identification.” The man’s eyes grew round with the Force-suggestion. “I don’t need to see your—” “Hey you!” Anakin’s head whipped around as another security officer walked towards him. “You the owner of the Satyr?” “Yes,” said Anakin tightly, giving the impression that he would rather be on his way, “I hope nothing’s happened to my ship.” “Not yet,” said the Espo, “you have to check in at the port authority, there’s something wrong and your ship’s been impounded.” “What?” Anakin glared at him. “I haven’t done anything!” The security officer smiled smugly. “You tell that to them at the port authority,” he replied. Anakin sighed; he had no intention of going there. That would complicate things further and he didn’t want that. Sooner or later Gunray’s absence would be known and every Espo in the city would be looking for him. By that time Anakin knew he had to be well away from the place, preferably on the way back to Coruscant. He turned to Gunray and forcibly made his voice cordial. “I’ll sort out this little matter once you’re settled on board,” he told the Neimoidian. Preferably somewhere in the hold, Anakin added in thought. There were no protests as he made his way inside with the Viceroy. Despite the impoundment of his ship, Anakin made it to the docking bay where he saw from the doorway one of the portmaster’s deputies applying the impoundment lock to the blast dome. Anakin swore, there was no way he could rig that quickly without setting off the alarm. “Out of luck?” asked Gunray, Anakin gave him such a freezing look that the Neimoidian lapsed into silence. “Want some help?” asked a familiar voice. Anakin turned to see the young Han Solo slouching against the wall behind them. There was a certain casualness and confidence that reminded Anakin of, well, himself actually. Yet he knew well what such an attitude could hide. The Jedi eyed him suspiciously. “Somehow I don’t think you’d be offering help for free,” Anakin said. Han grinned. “You’re right, I want out of this dump and was hoping you’d give me a ride.” “Keep hoping,” Anakin growled. “I know the way places like this work,” Han said proudly, “I can get you out of here.” “Why should I trust you?” Anakin asked. “Never said you should,” Han returned with a sly smile. Anakin smiled, he did have a point. “Fine,” he reluctantly agreed, “get me out of here and you can come.” At a tremor in the Force Anakin flattened himself against the wall just as the deputy was emerging into the corridor. Han made a subtle gesture towards the approaching figure, in a flash Anakin understood. The Jedi approached the deputy directly, swinging Gunray around with his free hand so the two collided. While the deputy was busy apologising, Han was busy with his belt. When the deputy finally staggered away, he held in his hands the card key for the impoundment lock. Anakin smiled. “Nice work,” he told Han, obviously impressed. Han shook his head. “There's still the port authority,” he reminded him as they headed towards the Satyr, “it’ll only take a minute.” He disappeared out of the docking bay; Anakin gave a shrug and got Gunray on board then attended to the lock on the dome. He was inside powering up the ship when Solo appeared again, Anakin closed the hatch as Han ran into the cockpit. “I got our clearance,” Han said quickly, sitting beside Anakin in the co-pilot’s seat. “Clearance?” Anakin raised an eyebrow. “Well, someone else’s,” Han confessed, he flashed Anakin a cocky grin. “I heard someone once on Ord Mantell telling the same story and I always wanted to try it.” Anakin rolled his eyes as he handed Han the headset and opened the comm unit to the port authority. Clenth Haror of the Etti IV Port Authority stared dejectedly at the computer panel in front of him. In spite of the boasts of those he knew his job was boring to say the least. Get the transmission, check the ship’s ID for clearance and then wave it on or call in the Espos, nothing more. Such was the case—or so he thought—for the next ship to come into his scope. “This is the Black Prince,” came a crackle over the com unit. “We uh, had clearance to leave at 1700 but there’s been a slight hitch and we need to leave now.” This too was normal, due to the nature of freighter captain’s schedules as they could change any moment. Besides, the ship already had clearance anyway. “You’re clear to leave, Black Prince,” said Clenth in a morose voice. “Clear skies.” “Thanks.” The comm unit crackled to silence. It wasn’t until later that Clenth realised that it was in fact an impounded ship, the Satyr, that he had let go and that wasn't until another ship called the Black Prince requested lift-off. Yet their problems weren’t over yet, orbiting at a rather close range was an Authority patrol ship. Anakin swore. “If they spotted us—” A menacing voice on the comm unit ordering them to land indicated the ship’s intentions. While he was still unsure on who wanted them so badly and for what reason, Anakin wasn't about to wait around to find out. “I’ll have to try something fancy,” he murmured, pulling the ship into a steep incline. “We’re still too close to the planet to jump.” A sudden force that threw them both back in their seats changed their options completely. Han stared at Anakin. “What the—” “Tractor beam,” Anakin told him, “we can still lose them, I know a few tricks. Get ready to launch our concussion missiles on my signal.” “But why—” “Just do it!” Anakin said through clenched teeth. When Solo said the missiles were ready Anakin added something else. “You’ll have to release the missiles the same moment I reverse our thrusters,” Anakin told him, “we can get out of the pull, but it’ll be tight.” “Don’t worry,” Han said, offering a smile. For the first time Anakin felt he could trust him. “Okay, stand by.” Anakin had one hand over the thruster lever, the other steering the ship. “Now!” The Satyr went into full reverse and at the same instant two concussion missiles were launched from its belly. It took only a moment but these were soon taken by the tractor beam and they moved towards the ship, the Satyr went into another steep dive and then into the safety of hyperspace. From Star Wars Fanon, a Wikia wiki.
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