Book 2 The Hutt Gambit Han Solo former Imperial officer sat despondently at a sticky table in a dingy bar on Devaron sipping an infe-rior Alderaanian.

He came often each time getting away with an able-bodied man's share of plunder. It is not good to be of the city folk. Of this I am convinced. There is something in the mode of life that breeds an alarming condition of blindness and deafness or so it seems with the city folk that come to my poppy field. Of the many to whom I have talked ethically not one has been found who ever saw the warnings so conspicuously displayed while of those called out to.
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Dream for having endured it on two other occasions. All week his sleep had been disturbed by dreams of one sort or another; and he never was able to fall back to sleep once brought awake by a vivid nightmare. The wall clock showed 12:13. He came home from the mill at half past eight and went to bed at half past nine five days a week as if he were a clockwork mechanism. Which meant that he had gotten barely three hours of sleep. He went to the kitchen table sat down and opened the travel magazine that he had bought at the general store last Monday. He studied the photographs of divers in scuba suits. why? he thought. Divers. Seamen. Guns. At the reservoir. Why? So late. Late at night. Dark. Divers. 'Why? Figure it. Come on. Figure it. Can't. Can. Can't. Can. Can't. Divers. In woods. Night. So crazy. Can't figure it. He decided to shower get dressed and walk.
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