Star Wars - Maze Run by David J. Williams;Mark S. Williams

Author:David J. Williams;Mark S. Williams
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-02-10T13:02:32+00:00

A grin spread over Solo’s face. “Just fine, Alpha. No problems.” His voice took on a sardonic tone. “Apart from Imperial starships on the way in and some kind of half-dead starship in the middle of the Maze.”

“Sounds like you met our Sith relic,” said the voice.

“Your what?”

“Most of the routes skirt the wreckage. Sorry you got the one that didn’t.”

“You and me both,” muttered Solo.

“Well... congratulations on keeping your hide intact. We’re clearing you for landing on approach vector 1.3 Zeta.”

“Roger that, Alpha,” said Solo. “Think you could have a couple of a glasses of T’lil T’lil ready for us?”

The voice chuckled. “We’ll see what we can do Alpha - over and out.” As Han switched off the comlink, Chewie’s rumbling baritone sounded over the ship’s speakers. Han frowned.

“What do you mean power surge?” Han scanned the internal sensors and saw that the forward cargo was indeed showing a weird energy reading. It looked like it might be some kind of feedback from the just-received beacon - an echo in the system. But even as Solo suggested this to Chewie, the Wookiee cut him off, grunting that he was heading forward to the hold.

“Oh for the love of...” Solo activated the autopilot and raced to the forward holds to find Chewie already inside, pointing a hand scanner at one of the huge oblong crates that constituted the Falcon’s cargo. Solo’s eyes went wide.

“It’s coming from inside that box?” he asked.

The Wookiee nodded. Han was getting a sinking feeling about this. He grabbed a charged pry-bar and unceremoniously popped the cargo container’s magnetic seal, revealing a two-meter long canister covered in what looked like Imperial markings. At the top of the canister was a device that could only be a detonator. And as for the canister itself...

Han snatched the hand scanner from his friend’s gigantic paw and shoved the device up close. The result flashed onscreen:

“Baradium,” he said.

Chewie snarled with anger. The scanner rattled off more specs, but Han didn’t need to read any of them. He’d spent enough time as an Imperial cadet to know all about baradium and the disintegrating wave its fusion reaction unleashed.

And there was enough here to fracture a small moon.

Solo slammed his fist against the bulkhead. It all fell into place like getting dealt the perfect hand in a rigged card game. There was only one type of man insane enough to hide on the lip of a black hole mining energy: Kriffin’ Rebels. And what better way to wipe them out then to send in a couple of dupes unwittingly carrying a bomb on a supply run? Chalk one up to the Imperials’ department of dirty tricks. The hand scanner told him the rest of the story: the beacon’s signal must have inadvertently played havoc with the bomb’s electronic detonator, activating it prematurely. Undoubtedly, the plan had been for it to go off when the Falcon reached the base. Now it was on a countdown. But how much time did they have?

There was a beeping noise on the speakers.

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