Blaster pistol strapped firmly to his hip, Han heads for the seamy side of Ord Mantell. Chewbacca carries his bowcaster. Where they are going, unarmed beings attract more attention than armed ones.
The pilot asks the hired speeder to drop them in front of Mama’s, Ord Mantell’s version of a smuggler’s guild. Fog shrouds the night, as it always does near Mama’s. Han feels jumpy and tense; strange things come out of the fog in this neighborhood. To both sides of Mama’s, signs advertising similar establishments create misty red, green, and blue halos every ten meters. Laughter rings somewhere deep in the streets, but it is a sinister sort – hardly joyous.
Two Gamorrean mates stand beneath the blue light of Mama’s sign. They look toward Han and Chewbacca expectantly, drool dripping from their sharp tusks. Chewie rumbles under his breath about the green hog-like mercenaries. Alertly, onw swings his massive, horned head around to observe the spacers’ approach. His companion tenses his heavy body, but makes no overt move. When the two smugglers ignore them, the Gamorreans do not hinder the pair’s passage.
Inside, smugglers of every size and description patiently converse and await contracts. Two barmaids, one a Twi’lek and the other a Togorian, serve drinks. A holographic entertainment console plays the latest music shorts. The bartender keeps the volume at a very precise level: loud enough to prevent eavesdropping, but not so loud that conversationalists must shout.
As Han steps through the doorway, a camera drops from the ceiling and inspects first his face, then Chewbacca’s. When he moves to the bar, the human bartender greets him. “Han Solo!” he says. “It’s been what,” the bartender’s eyes drop behind the counter, “four years standard? How’s your ship, the -” his eyes drop agian, “Millennium Falcon?”
Han leans over the bar. As he suspected the man is consulting an artificial memory. The memory uses a camera to scan Han’s face, then displays his data file on a small screen behind the bar.
“Nice setup,” comments Han. “But you need some practice.”
The man shrugs. “It’s another of Mama’s scams. Says it increases return business.”
“I need to talk to Mama,” Han says.
The man’s eyes drop to the screen. “I see that you know the way.”
Nodding, the Corellian gives the man 100 credits. Then he works his way through the crowded bar. Seated behind a spacious gray desk in a dark room, Mama barely looks up as Han and Chewie enter. She belongs to a race Han cannon name and has never encountered except in this room. Her immense hairless head rests atop a tiny bipedal body. She carries a good fifth of her body weight in her skull. Her large black eyes never close or blink, and her temples throb as if the act of thinking requires physical exercise.
After Han explains his problem, Mama nods. “Seventy percent probability: your challenger is an unknown smuggler hoping to beat the Millenium Falcon and make a name for herself. Recommendation: proceed to Mos Eisley with all haste. Contingent probabilities: 80% that she has already left Ord Mantell; 75% that she will return your friend unharmed.”
“And if she’s not a rookie?” Han asks. “What then?”
“Imperial trap: 15%, ransom demand: 10%, unknowable: 5%. Recommendation for further investigation: contact these four outfitters: Hondo Bador, Cabet Lom, Nevid d’Hon, and Berrille Ada. Each has recently outfitted a new startship. Concluded.”
“Thanks,” the pilot says turning to Chewbacca. “We have time to meet only one, otherwise we’ll lose the race for sure.”
The Wookiee considers, then rumbles a name.
If Han contacts: (Click the outfitter’s name)
Hondo Bador
Cabet Lom
Nevid d’Hon
Berrille Ada
If Han returns to the Millennium Falcon immediately, Click Here