Last Shot (Star Wars): A Han and Lando Novel by Daniel José Older

Author:Daniel José Older [Older, Daniel José]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2018-04-16T16:00:00+00:00

“LOOK SHARP, FELLAS,” SANA SAID, whisking into the Falcon’s messy main hold with the package she kept Mozeen in under one arm and a silky cape flowing behind her. “The Parapas are here.”

Han had been dreaming about swimming through some kind of bright-red swamp. He felt like the muck had just regurgitated him back onto the shore of life, where before him stood some kind of ethereal angel dressed in blue. Sure, it was possible, likely even, that Sana’s low-cut blouse and tight pants had everything to do with the fact that Mozeen clearly had a thing for her, and they needed to garner any bit of goodwill they could during this exchange. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t also because she wanted to look good for Han, Han reasoned. That was certainly a possibility, too.

The blue of her matching top, pants, and cape was a gentle one, almost lavender, and it complemented her dark skin perfectly. She’d even put on some glittery eye shadow and applied some kind of jeweled speckles in a swirling pattern running along either side of her long, graceful, kissable neck.

“What?” Sana demanded, stomping one platform-shoed foot.

Han, apparently, was gawking. Beside him, Chewie just shook his head and started loading up the bowcaster. “Nothing,” Han said, letting his smug smile do all the talking.

Sana rolled her eyes. “It’s a negotiation. Presentation matters.”

Han conceded the point with a nod. “Sure, but I mean, isn’t the Parapa Cartel a family operation? I mean…”

Sana shook her head. “Han…”

“How tough could they really—”

The air lock slid open and seven towering, armed goons marched in. Each stood as tall as Chewie. Tinted goggles peered from their heavily wrapped faces, and their bodies were covered in makeshift armor that had been ripped, no doubt, from the bodies of enemies they’d laid low across the galaxy. They bustled into a semicircle around Sana, Han, and Chewie and raised their bayoneted blasters in a single movement without making a sound.

“—be,” Han finished, raising his hands. “Oh.”

“Greetings, noble associates of the proud and noble Parapa Cartel,” Sana said.

There was no response.

“Okayyy…” She held up the box. “I’m going to put this down at my feet and open it, very slowly. Okay?”

Still no reply.

Sana nodded, then crouched, placed the box down gently, and slid open the front panel. Mozeen’s tiny body collapsed out and landed in a crumpled heap. Han’s eyes went wide. Sana’s mouth dropped open. All seven soldiers gasped at once and then stepped forward, shoving the bayonets centimeters from Han’s, Sana’s, and Chewie’s faces.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Sana yelled. “I can explain! We didn’t—”

Han glanced down at Mozeen Parapa’s little body, saw one of the Frizznoth’s eyes crack the slightest bit open.

“Hold on,” Han said. “Hold…on.”

Now both eyes popped all the way open and the gang leader grinned. “I gaht youuuah!” he chortled, crawling to his feet and letting out a peal of laughter. “Aahahahaha boyyyyee, youah haz gaht gaht!”

A whispered commotion rose from the Parapa goons. Two of them fell

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