Meanwhile, a couple of years ago maybe, in some run-down disreputable cantina near Mapuso, a young smuggler named Han Solo gave the woman across from him a wry look and said, “No dice.”
In her defence, she was doing a pretty good job. She was earnest, and persuasive, and if he’d been more naive, he might’ve bought it.
She also clearly didn’t belong in the fringe. She’d dressed the part, and she wasn’t overly furtive the way he’d seen other outsiders act, but she had too much idealism in her eyes. “Why not?”
“Because,” he said easily, “I ain’t stupid. I’m not getting involved in some crazy rescue op right under the Empire’s nose.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You’re a smuggler.”
“I don’t smuggle people.” His voice hardened as he said it, from habit as much as anything. Usually, smuggling people had a different meaning when people suggested it to him, and while he might be a criminal, he drew the line at slavery. But even this… so some people were being hunted by the Empire. It was the Empire. Mapuso itself was proof enough that it was better to stay as far away from Imperial operations as possible.
She was studying him, and he recognised the look in her eyes. Judgment, disappointment, and that fierce idealism that never failed to annoy him. She thought everyone should be “doing their part”, to stand up to injustice. Well, Han had grown up with injustice, and he’d learned that the only person he could rely on to look out for him was himself. It wasn’t his job to fight for anyone else. Sure, they were offering money, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Besides, he knew that this wouldn’t just be hauling cargo, sentient or otherwise. Sooner or later, the Imperials would tumble to the whole thing, and he’d get caught in the crossfire. And when it came right down to it, he knew, no one would worry overmuch about him. He was just the pilot.
“And I ain’t gonna get myself killed over some idealistic nonsense,” he went on. “You go right ahead. Maybe you’ll find someone else around here who’s dumb enough.”
Her gaze hardened, the idealism banked. It should have been a relief. It wasn’t. “Fine,” she said, and got to her feet. “Enjoy your drink.”
He lifted said drink in a sarcastic toast as she turned away.
He watched her approach someone else, sliding into the booth across from the guy, and had to admit that she had guts. Most people didn’t just join random fringe guys at their tables.
Then again, maybe she was just that stupid.
He shook his head in disgust as she launched into her spield. By the time he’d finished his drink, the guy across from her was actually listening, and to Han’s mild surprise, he looked… intrigued.
His stomach twisted, and he fought back the tiny tendril of guilt. It was a bad idea to get involved with do-gooder folks like that. It didn’t matter if someone else was doing it. He wasn’t going to put his life on the line for some strangers, even if they didneed help.
Across the cantina, the woman and the man shook hands, she looking relieved, he resolved.
Rolling his eyes, Han got to his feet, and walked away.
