Han accelerates for cover in the fiery gas tail. The TIE follows closely, its laser cannons blazing. Apparently, the maneuver alarms the Imperial pilot, for he stops trying to target and is firing wildly. An instant later, the Falcon slips into a bright green stream of gas.
The starboard TIE fighter darts beneath the freighter’s belly in a desperation maneuver to cripple the drives. That is the wrong thing to do. The belly guns blaze steadily for two full seconds, creating a tempest of energy bursts. When it falls dormant, metal shards are all that remain of the TIE fighter.
Han circles slowly, then starts for the far side of the comet.
“Remarkable flying!” Sodarra says. “If Imperial pilots could fly like that -“
“We’d be dead,” the Corellian says. “But they can’t and we’re alive.” Sodarra looks hurt. Han quickly adds, “The flying wouldn’t have meant a thing if your men weren’t good gunners.”
Captain Sodarra smiles warmly. “Coming from a pilot of your skill, that is high praise indeed.”
Chewbacca adds a happy groan.
“He says he’s glad he didn’t have to shield against them,” Han translates.
The Falcon leaves the coma. To the left an a little below, a fiery gas tail runs toward Aldo.
The ship trembles, then bucks, as it leaves the gravity plateau between the two stars. “I think we’ve lost that destroyer for good,” Han says. “This g-field will tear it to pieces.”
“Yes,” agrees Sodarra. “It is remarkable that this scow held together.” The smuggler is too busy fighting gravity wells to protest his ship’s sturdiness.
Fifteen minutes later, they escape the warring gravity fields. Han activates the nav computer and tells it to chart a course for Tatooine. He and Chewbacca then go aft to run systems checks. Lieutenant Birdloe, the stormtrooper second-in-command to Sodarra, watches the helm.
Han is helping Chewie recalibrate a spatial flux dilation spectrometer when Birdloe calls over the Intercom. Another ship, with a broad aft and narrow forequarters, is in the vicinity. It appears to be preparing to enter hyperspace for Tatooine.
The smuggler rushes to the cockpit and opens a communications channel. “Leia!”
No answer.
“We both know you can’t fly a starship, not like I can. I’m not dodging any more Star Destroyers to prove it, and I’m sure as heck not going to Mos Eisley. Have you forgotten the price Jabba put on my head?”
There is no answer. “Perhaps her reception channels are closed,” Sodarra suggests.
“They’re open,” the Corellian insists. “The race is off Leia. I know who Alfreda Goot is, and I’ve got a deal to keep.”
The receptor screen activates. It shows a small, gray helmet. Long red har cascades from beneath it. A wicked laugh crackles through the helmet’s electronic translator. “Who is Alfreda Goot, Solo?”
Han almost doubts his conclusion. Finally he says, “Leia Organa, Princess of Alderaan.”
The helmeted figure laughs again. “Mos Eisley, Solo.” The channel goes dead.
“She just activated her hyperdrive,” Birdloe reports.
“Let her kill herself!” Han exclaims. A moment later, he turns to Sodarra. “Right?”
The Imperial nods. “There is no denial in her reply. Perhaps we should attend to our business?”
Han nods, but he does not erase Tatooine’s coordinates from the nav computer. A minute later, he mutters, “No the cloaking device will keep. I just might be wrong – for a change.”