Free Abyss by Troy Denning Page A

see it! Sometimes he hated being such a big spotted oaf, hated himself for being so easy to trick. And hated
them
for taking advantage of it.
    Bazel let out an angry bellow, then spun around, flinging his long arm out toward Not-Jaina. He heard her yell in surprise, then felt a satisfying impact as he caught her across the torso and sent her flying.
    The next thing Bazel heard was the
phoot-phoot
of flying darts. His face and arms erupted in fiery waves of stinging pain, and he instantly grew dizzy and sick. He felt himself falling and crashing into an oblivion of crumpling metal, and he hoped that all that throbbing meant there wasn’t going to be enough of him left to copy.

“Sorry about your limo, Jag.” Han was staring at Jagged Fel’s damaged speeder, now half hidden beneath Bazel Warv’s green bulk. Through a side window, he could see that the impact had folded the roof a good sixty centimeters down into the passenger compartment. “Maybe you should find another dealer. You’d think an armored speeder would take a hit better than this.”
    “Crumple zones are part of the design. I assure you, it can take a volley of concussion grenades and still speed away.” Jag turned toward Jaina, who was standing at the limousine’s front fender with the driver’s raincoat buttoned over her torn dress. “I’m just glad Jaina wasn’t hurt.”
    Jaina glared at him. “I can take a hit, too, Jag.”
    Jag’s steely eyes widened ever so slightly. “I’m sure you can,” he began apologetically. “I just meant to say that you’re more important to me than a million-credit limousine.”
    “I’d
better
be,” Jaina shot back. “That doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself.”
    Han had to bite his cheek to keep from bursting into laughter. He still found it hard to believe that Jaina was really going to marry this guy, and it was foul-ups like this that made him hope she’d come to her senses before it was too late. Jagged Fel was a decent enough fellow, and a fine pilot, to be sure. But he was also a stickler for rules and a slave to his honor, and Han had seen enough of
that
kind to know Head of State Fel would never,
ever
put Jaina ahead of his duty. And that just wasn’t good enough for Han’s only daughter—not by a long shot.
    Jag finally withered under Jaina’s glare and turned to Han, who laughed and slapped him on the shoulder.
    “Son, you’ve got a lot to learn before you’re ready to marry a strong woman,” he said. “You might start by always remembering she can break your neck with just a glance.”
    “Han!” Leia scolded. She was sitting atop the safety wall, one hand reaching out over the speeder lane as she used the Force to lower Yaqeel Saav’etu’s unconscious form down to the others. “You’ll scare him off!”
    “Hey, he should know what he’s in for.” Han winked at Jaina, and her scowl melted away, probably because she realized she was being too touchy about Jag’s protective streak. “You’ve been threatening to break my neck for forty years,” he reminded Leia.
    “That has nothing to do with being a strong woman,” Leia retorted. “Just one whose patience is too often tested.”
    Han turned to Jag. “And
that
reminds me—it pays to keep life interesting. These women can get bored just sitting around the apartment.”
    “That depends on who we’re sitting around
with,
” Leia said drily. She swung her hand toward the limousine, lowering Yaqeel onto its hood. “As interesting as it might be to explore my husband’s nerf-headed theories on marriage, we’d better take care of our two patients. That GAS squad is right behind me.”
    “I’ll get Bazel.” Jaina turned to Han. “Dad, if you can take Yaqeel—”
    “I’ll help,” Jag said, stepping toward the Bothan’s feet. At the sametime, he glanced across the hood at the big-shouldered hump standing beside the driver’s door with a T-21 repeating blaster at the ready. “Put that weapon away and stay