Han’s blaster rifle flashes. The first shot takes the Twi’lek square in the chest. “He is unarmed!” Sodarra yells. “Why worry about vengeance when our lives are at stake?”
Han shrugs. “He was the ring-leader.”
Sodarra’s rifle blazes, cutting a lizard in two. The other Altorians drop beneath a table and pepper the corner with blaster fire. Han feels a sharp pain in his belly and falls to the floor. Although he does not recall being shot, he knows that he has been wounded. At the moment, he is too busy to worry about it. The thieves have trapped them in a corner. Someone long ago boarded the windows, and Han doubts that the bartender called the lift.
“How do I get into these situations?” Han moans.
Sodarra slams into the corner, then slumps to the floor. “Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy,” Han mutters.
A fresh round of Altorian fire reminds Han that the odds are now three-to-one. He rolls for cover and pain lances his stomach. Han fires again, and an Altorian hisses in agony.
“Take that, slime-skin!” he yells. The odds are now two-to-one. Not bad for Han Solo.
A red burst flashes in his eyes. His vision blanks and he drops his head to the floor. He feels weak, too weak to fight…
What will the bar patrons do with Han now? How will he get back to the Falcon? Whether Chewie hunts him down or the local authorities ‘clean up’ or Sodarra’s lieutenant takes the initiative, Han has lost this fight – and the race. Click Here to return to the beginning and try again