The Han Solo Adventures Read Online Free PDF

illuminescences. One swept up to him, fresh from the bank of coin-games that offered such diversions as Mind-Jam, Senso-Switch, Reflex Races, and Starfight. She was a tall, lithe girl with a wine-dark cast to her skin and hair like plaited silver, wearing a gown that seemed to have been knit from white mist. “Welcome down, spaceman,” she laughed, throwing an arm around him. “How about a turn through the dance dome?”
    Han shifted his burden to his other arm as Chewbacca looked on disapprovingly; several of their less auspicious adventures had begun just this way. “Sure!” Han responded enthusiastically. “Let’s dance, let’s snuggle up, let’s get grafted together !” He gently pushed her away. “A little later.”
    She showed him a truly stunning smile—to let him know it was nothing personal—and moved on to greet another customer before he’d moved out of earshot.
    The Free-Flight Dance Dome was a first-class trough. It was equipped with a top-of-the-line gravity field, its console visible among the bottles, spigots, and taps, and other paraphernalia encircled by the bar. The field permitted the management to alter gravity anywhere on the premises, and so the dance floor and the dome over it had become a low-gee acrobatic playground in which singles, couples, and groups looped, floated, and spun with effortless grace. Han also spotted individual booths and tables where species from low-gravity worlds were taking their ease in comfort, the specific gravity of their area having been lowered for them.
    Han and Chewbacca moved farther into the twilight of the place, hearing the clink of drinking vessels of many kinds and the interweaving of any number of languages over the blast from the sound system. They breathed in the aromas of diverse inhalants and aerosols; a profusion of smoke and vapors of various hues, defying the ventilation unit, had drifted by thermoclines into multicolored strata.
    He had no problem spotting Ploovo Two-For-One; the big glom had found a large table in the corner, the better to watch for his debtor. Han and Chewbacca sauntered over. Ploovo applied a labored, unconvincing smile to his well-upholstered face. “Solo, old colleague. Come, sit.”
    “Spare us the guano, Two-For-One.” Han sat down next to Ploovo. Chewbacca slung his bowcaster over his shoulder and took a place across the table so that he and Han could watch each other’s backs. Han set down the box he carried. Ploovo’s greedy eyes caressed it. “Feel free to drool,” Han bade him.
    “Now, Solo,” Ploovo chided, volubly ready to ignore any insult in the heady presence of money, “that’s no way to talk to your old benefactor.” Ploovo had already been informed by contacts here that these two freighter bums had exchanged a large quantity of negotiables for cash. His hand went for the box. Han’s got there first.
    The pilot challenged the loan shark with a raised eyebrow. “Your payment’s in there. With interest. We’re quits after this, Ploovo.”
    Strangely unperturbed, Ploovo nodded, his topknot jiggling along with his jowls. Han was about to question this when Chewbacca’s warning snarl interrupted. A detail of Security Police had entered The Free-Flight . Some stationed themselves at the doors while the others made their way around the room.
    Han snapped the retaining strap off his holstered blaster. The sound made Ploovo turn. “Now, um, Solo, I swear I had nothing to do with this. We are, as you so recently pointed out, quits. Even I wouldn’t presume to turn informer and risk my livelihood.” He put a fat, covetous hand on the box. “I believe those gentlemen in institutional brown are seeking a man who answers your description. While I no longer have any interest in your well-being, I suggest that you and your fuzzy comrade absent yourselves from here at once.”
    Han didn’t waste time wondering how the Authority had gotten on his tail after he’d obtained new registration for the Falcon