Work Text:
”Run that by me again. You sold the cargo?”
“No, I traded it. For this.” Lando pointed to the little pin on his chest, which gleamed brightly enough to practically shout look at me, I can play sabacc, I’m good (or rich) enough to enter the Kelypp tournament at everyone within a hundred yards. “Entering isn’t cheap at this level, and –“
“Yeah, you just told me. What I want to know is how you got it turned around that fast without breaking any laws – like you claim – when I’m registered as the owner.”
“I told him we’re married.”
“What?”
Chewbacca threw up his hands and groaned, <I’ll be back at the ship>. <Unloading>, he added, and the door banged shut behind him.
“Look, we don’t even need to win. If I can get fourth place or above we’ll have enough to replace most of the damaged parts of the ship, at least the sublight engine.”
“And if you place last?”
Lando smiled, but didn’t actually say “Me?” Which was good, because Han would have had to punch his teeth in. That was likely to happen anyway within the next twenty-four hours.
He groaned, much as Chewie had. “If we end up stranded here because you think you’re such a hotshot gambler…”
“I’ll find a way to pay you back – I have an idea. Don’t worry.”
Lando went off to have a look at the people he’d be competing against, but Han went back to the ship. It was getting late, but the sun didn’t seem to have shifted much since noon; the ground was so hot that he thought his feet might blister if he stood still long enough. If he had to spend the next fifty years on one planet working off a debt, this wasn’t the climate to do it in.
<Change your mind?> Chewie asked. He set down the two crates he carried and straightened, rubbing his back; the rocks weren’t nearly as light as they looked.
“No. I think we’re stuck here for a day or two, until the tournament’s over.”
<It’ll be longer than that if he loses. And here I thought you’d come to your senses.>
“Try to have some faith in me, all right? Maybe not in Lando, not when he pulls this kind of crap, but I think I can scrape together enough money to replace the sublight engine by the time they kick him out.”
<Without breaking any laws, as he said?>
“Well, no. Get those crates back on board. And don’t let anyone get close, even if they have a receipt – tell them you don’t speak the language.”
Chewie snarled and bent to pick up the crates again – the scorching desert climate had to be about five times as bad for him as it was for him and Lando. Han returned to the relative cool inside the Millennium Falcon and found the disk he was looking for in its place by the pilot’s seat.
The town’s old market place was almost empty, and the few people who remained this late looked like the sort who would make a law-abiding citizen walk faster and hold on tight to his purse. None of them had heard of Captain Cherutt, the only person Han had thought he knew in this place, but one foul-smelling Nautolan claimed to know someone who might want to buy the rocks. She led him almost a mile, with so many turns through strangely-curved back alleys that he almost expected an ambush; but then they were in an open space – it might be the desert equivalent of a park – where a few dozens of people stood talking in small groups. The Nautolan spoke to a man, and after a minute or two an older woman seized Han’s sleeve and said, “My niece says you want to sell me something.”
“She may be right. My name’s Cireega” – the name on the ownership documents – “and, well, I’ve acquired some minerals that turned out to be something different than the person who sold them to me led me to believe. And I want to leave within the week.”
She still didn’t offer her name, or return his smile. And she smelled worse than her niece did. “Show me a sample.”
He had one ready, although it didn’t actually come from the rocks in the crates: a small glass container with a sharp-smelling blue powder inside. She smelled it, pocketed it, and said, “I take it the minerals you want to get rid of are unprocessed?”
“Yes.”
“Which reduces the value by forty percent.”
“There’s a respectable amount of the stuff. Over a quarter of a ton.”
“Your price?”
“I paid a million crystals. I’ll take three-fourths of that.”
“They’re worth six hundred thousand.”
He sighed in what hopefully sounded like resignation. “Seven hundred.”
“Six.”
“Look, I have to be out of here within six days. Six hundred will only get me –“
“Six.”
“All right, six. But in that case I need it now.”
“Do you have the documents?” She gestured for the grey-skinned man beside her to pay him. The sun was finally setting.
He handed over the disk and got another in payment. If it turned out to be empty, he was a bigger fool than Lando, and they deserved to swelter together on this hellish planet for the next fifty or seventy-five years – if the nameless Nautolan aunt didn’t kill them once she got a closer look at the rocks.
Ensconced in the most comfortable corner of the gambling establishment’s most luxurious bar, Lando laughed. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Because I’m a step ahead of you as usual. Don’t feel bad about it.”
“I knew there had to be a reason I married you.” He held up his glass in a toast; Han poured some for himself and returned it. The wine was pale, sweet and very cold. It had to be expensive.
“To your successful business negotiations.”
“To your successfully winning the tournament, or at least not getting caught cheating.”
“Aren’t you going to enter?”
“No. The sublight engine, remember? I’ll see about replacing it tomorrow.”
“Is Chewbacca still at the ship?”
“Yeah. I told him not to let anyone on board. Hope it’s not too hot for him - it’s past midnight, and the sun was just starting to set when I got back here.”
“Poor fellow,” said Lando, still smirking.
“How are you paying for this, anyway?” Han gestured with his glass.
“It comes out of my winnings. Special policy for the top-level contestants. I’m still in, so they trust me to pay.” He shrugged.
“Then why don’t you treat me to dinner, husband? I haven’t eaten anything since lunch.”
“Anything you want, Cireega my love. Try the shellfish pastries – they go great with the wine.” He signaled the waiter. “Maybe another bottle?”
“Save some brain cells for tomorrow’s game, you’ll need them.”
“Well, you don’t.”
True. Win or lose, they should be on safely on their way within thirty-six hours, so they might as well enjoy what the place had to offer until then. The pastries really were tasty, especially with the wine to wash them down – not to mention the thought of the lovely lady who would pay for the new sublight engine. He wondered what sort of face the old Nautolan would make when she tried to crush and refine those great big chunks of rock – or when she tasted the results. They shared another toast, in her honor.
Pounding on the door - never a fun way to wake up. <Han! Open up! Don’t bother getting dressed – open the door and let me in now, or so help me, I –>
“What’s the fuss about this time?” Lando asked, yawning.
Han rolled out of bed and woke up around the time he reached the door. “Keep it down, would you?” he said as the Wookiee brushed past him.
<They took the cargo. Gambler’s guild people, I think, twenty or thirty of them. They had blasters, too.> He looked defensive, but at least he lowered his voice.
“We should have seen this coming.”
<I told you –>
Han groaned. “I know, I know.” His pants were draped over a corner of the bed, and he began to pull them on, hopping on one foot. Thankfully, the effects of the wine had worn off.
“The cargo?” Lando asked, propped on his elbow.
“Yeah, he says the people running the tournament came and took it. Did anything unusual happen during yesterday’s game – any cards fall out of your sleeve while you were playing? Because he also says they came armed, so it doesn’t sound like they trust you.”
“I wasn’t cheating. Thought I’d better save that for tonight, when the easy opponents are out. And there’s no one I recognize, so they shouldn’t be ringing the alarm bells just because we’re here.”
“Get dressed, would you? At least the ship’s still where I left it, right?”
<Last I saw it.>
“When’s your first game today?”
“In about four hours. I’d better play, at least until you can get the Falcon repaired – it’ll look suspicious if I go with you now.”
“So stay here and behave yourself until after the game, and maybe they won’t throw you in jail. We’d hate to leave without you. Who are you, by the way? I want to know my husband’s name in case they ask.”
“Shulm. I’ve been telling people I’m trying to raise enough capital to develop a powder mine on Glee Anselm’s moon – a deposit I happened to find on my own land. So far one player and one representative of the house have said they might want to buy shares.”
“And you don’t think that might have anything to do with our rocks being taken?” He finished dressing and ran a hand through his hair to smooth it.
“Well, it stands to reason that they’d want to sample the goods before they invest in the mining project - the guild people only have my word for it that this powder deposit even exists. I don’t see why they’d take it by force, though.”
”I’m going out to cash the check now, and make the arrangements. Order breakfast for the three of us, all right?”
“Han.” Lando reached for him.
“It’s still Cireega.” But he let his friend pull him back to stand beside the bed, and bent down for a quick kiss. Lando might not be as smart as he thought he was, or anything resembling a decent citizen, but he had his good sides. “Don’t cheat. Don’t lose, either.”
“I won’t, but it doesn’t matter. I’m only staking shares in the mining project. Good luck.”
Han was almost surprised when the check didn’t bounce. The cargo was worth about half a million crystals, and he’d talked the Nautolan into paying six hundred thousand, which meant there’d be a nice sum left when the sublight engine was replaced. The reserve power cells needed some work, too. Maybe he could even keep Lando from noticing the difference between the sums. He spent a sweltering afternoon talking to mechanics and shopkeepers, haggling over the new power cell parts, and then decided to return to the hotel; Chewbacca should be back at the ship, and while he’d probably complain about having to replace the engine parts by himself, it was best that Han keep out of sight in case any Nautolans came asking for the blue rocks they’d paid for. There might even be time for another meal courtesy of the gamblers’ guild.
As he came in through the lobby he looked around for Lando, but the tall green display in the middle of the room proclaimed that he was still playing. Six people left in the game, and four hours until it ended. With any luck the staff would still recognize him as someone who got to eat for free.
“Sir?” A tall human had appeared beside him – one of the staff, by the blue robe she wore. “Is your name Cireega?”
“That’s me.” She was between him and the door, and he felt less happy about this every second. “Does this have anything to do with Shulm? The screen says he’s still playing.”
“Follow me, please.”
The president of the gamblers’ guild had a special room he used for this type of chat. It was small and windowless and filled with tall, strapping people in uniforms; Han was starting to think there might be more to the guild than he’d suspected. He wasn’t about to be intimidated, though.
The president – a Nautolan himself – said, “We had a visit this morning from a woman of my acquaintance. She claims to have bought half a ton of powder rock from you – she was under the impression that they contained an illegal substance, which, as it turns out, they don’t. But she showed me this.” He held up the disk Han had given the old woman, or one that looked just like it, but it didn’t matter.
“I –“
The Nautolan held up a long-nailed finger to shut him up. “The reason we’re interested is that these rocks seem to be the same ones that Shulm gave us in payment for his entering the tournament on the highest level. He claims to have found a powder deposit – where the rocks supposedly came from – and as we speak he is playing for shares in the mining project he says he’s developing there.” He paused, apparently for effect, and then leaned closer to Han. “But why are you selling property that your husband has already given to us?”
“The cargo was actually registered in my name.”
“Yes, yes. But what were you planning to do?”
“I’m sure you had me followed to the marketplace. You should know what I’ve been doing there.”
“Repairing your ship – getting ready to leave very soon.”
“I’d be on my way now if you hadn’t… As you said, I wanted to get out of here. His mining scheme is too risky,” he added, with sudden inspiration.
“Is there a powder deposit?”
“There is now. We bought a whole ton of the stuff and spent a week spreading half of it around up there. I don’t think anyone will go for it, though.”
“So you were going to leave him behind?”
“What could I do? He’ll get caught. Well, I guess I got caught too.”
“You did.”
Unsurprisingly, Lando was led into the room an hour or so later. The final game couldn’t have ended yet.
“I screwed up, Cireega,” he said. “Sorry.”
Han shrugged, looking away.
When Lando had been settled in the chair beside Han, the president finally spoke again. “Shulm, you owe the guild a not insignificant debt. I wonder if you have the means to settle it.”
“That depends on the outcome of tonight’s game. I need one more partner for the project I told you about. The powder deposit is -”
“Cireega tells me the deposit isn’t real.”
“It’s real enough. Not as large as I first thought, but there is powder rock to be found.”
The Nautolan shrugged, and his tentacles flopped slightly. “It matters little. The deposit – and more importantly, the shares, which I suspect are more valuable – belong to the gamblers’ guild now. You will sign a document to this effect.”
Lando looked like he was going to argue, but thought better of it and grinned, weakly. “All right, I suppose you can’t win them all. I’ll sign if you let us go.”
“That takes care of your debt. Cireega owes a lot of money to a woman I know in the marketplace. She will want to speak to him soon.”
This could get ugly. This was ugly already – Chewie would interfere and probably get himself shot. Maybe he could reach some arrangement with Auntie Nautolan, work off his debt to her…
“I was about to beat the house up there,” Lando said. “Let’s play for him this time.”
“So you aren’t indifferent to him? What are you staking?”
“The ship.”
The moment they were left to themselves Han rounded on Lando – he tried to punch him in the jaw, but Lando managed to sidestep, and Han hit his shoulder instead.
“Hey, hey! That’s unfair of you. We’re even now.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I gave away your cargo, you sold it to someone else and cost me my victory, you lost me the money for the shares in the mine project, and then I won your freedom for you. Maybe your life as well.”
“By staking my ship.”
“What choice did I have? Neither one of us wanted to spend any more time on this smoldering coal of a planet than we absolutely had to. Maybe you could have paid the old Nautolan lady off with the Falcon, but then you’d be stuck here. And I couldn’t leave without you, could I?”
“You could try, but the Wookiee would twist your head off.”
Lando laughed. “That’s what I meant.”
“How did you beat him? I thought we were both dead when he made you turn your sleeves out.”
“He cheated. I saw what he was doing, that’s all.” He shrugged modestly, but his smile was proud. Infuriated, Han leaned close and kissed him, tangling his fingers hard in the other man’s hair, and Lando smiled as he kissed him back. They were standing in a crowded street, which didn’t seem like the best place to continue to hash this out, but maybe later.
“I’ll give you one thing, though,” Han said. “You aren’t quite as bad a card player as I thought.”