by Troy Denning
Han dived for the dark underlevels, buying enough time to pull his blaster. He pushed it over the seat into Leia’s hands, then the launches were on them again. Another bolt hit the canopy. The plasteel shattered. The wind filled Han’s eyes with tears, and his blaster began to screech.
“Han, do something.” That calm voice again.
“Can’t see!”
Han squinted and thought he saw a bridge below. No, a roof! He leveled off and shot along a few meters above its surface, weaving through exhaust stacks and intake vents, then the roof dropped away and the cloud car was over a black abyss again.
Something pinged in the rear of the vehicle.
“Smoke!”
“Good,” he said. “Maybe it’ll blind ’em.”
Han widened his eyes and saw a pair of dark bars ahead. Two bridges, stacked. He’d have to shoot through a hoverlane, but not a congested one. Wherever they were, this part of the city was not exactly prosperous.
The cloud car chugged. Han thought at first a tractor beam had snagged them, but the whine of the little ion engine began to fall in pitch, not rise. The dark bars ahead started to assume shape and depth. Half a kilometer away, maybe, with about the same distance separating them vertically.
“Leia, activate your chair’s repulsors,” Han said. “And be ready to shut off the magnoclamp.”
She saw what he was thinking. “Han, if you think I’m leaving this car without—”
“You’re not going anywhere without me.”
The cloud car chugged and lost speed, and a blaster bolt shattered the main display. No need for that anyway. There were figures on the lower bridge, watching the battle race toward them. Han angled for the far support girder, and the figures ran for cover. The bridge swelled. Another blaster bolt melted the small comm unit.
They passed under the bridge, and Han stopped weaving. The cloud car chugged again—this time caught in a rescue launches’ tractor beam. Han pulled back on the stick, and the cloud car went into a steep climb, passing beneath the far support girder so closely he had to duck—and yell for Leia to do the same.
The launch could not cut its tractor beam in time. It hit the girder and disintegrated, freeing the cloud car to continue skyward. Leia poured blasterfire down into the smoke.
Han spun the car around and saw a two-person rescue launch shoot out of the fumes beneath them, a line of blaster holes burned along the roof of its casualty compartment. The pilot took it into an inside loop, and two snarling Aqualish glared out the ceiling of their blaster-scorched canopy. Leia and the passenger exchanged fire, but at that range even rifle bolts dissipated harmlessly.
The rescue launch leveled off and approached inverted. Han kept waiting for it to roll upright, but the pilot was too good to maneuver into a blind spot. The passenger continued to fire. Instead of wasting precious thrust maneuvering, Han spun the top of the cloud car away from the launch and continued to climb. The upper bridge wasn’t far, maybe a hundred meters.
Blaster bolts hammered the bottom of the hull. One burned through, then another.
“Han?” Leia asked. “You do know I can’t fire back?”
“I know.”
The enemy blasterfire stopped, then the rescue launch roared past just meters above and abruptly dived to avoid the high bridge.
Han eased off the throttle. “Ready to get off this tub?”
“Never been readier to get off anything,” Leia said. “Since Jabba’s sail barge, anyway.”
The cloud car chugged … rose level with the bridge … chugged again …
Han swung the nose over the edge and leveled off.
The cloud car chugged in relief and shot onto the bridge.
“Now!”
Han unbuckled his crash webbing and twisted around to clasp Leia’s arm, then allowed her to pull him free as the repulsor chair rose out of the passenger compartment. The cloud car slid out from beneath them and continued out over the hoverlane. They had barely touched down—Leia settling gently onto her chair’s repulsors and Han falling gracelessly to his side—before the rescue launch came up and stitched a fresh line of blaster holes in the cloud car’s bottom. The battered vehicle dropped its nose and began a smoky descent, the launch close behind, pouring blaster bolts into its ion drives.
Han rose and, seeing that Leia was all right, looked along the bridge in both directions. If there was anyone around, they were staying out of sight.
“So,” he asked, “any idea where we’re at?”
Leia shook her head. “Not really, but I think Lamoramora is over by the Troglodyte Park.”
“Great—the wrong side of the world,” Han said. “It’ll take us all day to get back.”
A distant explosion rumbled up from the depths of the hoverlane. Han glanced briefly toward the sound, then took Leia’s hand and started toward the nearest building.
Leia jerked him back. “Not so fast, flyboy,” she said, smiling. “You’re the one who got us lost in the first place. I’ll find the way home.”
EIGHT
The Senate Inquiry Room door slid aside to reveal a solid wall of newsvid light. By the squall of hushed voices, Leia could sense that the chamber was packed beyond capacity. But it was not until her eyes grew accustomed to the novalike glare that she began to see the faces behind the whispers. The room was crammed horn-to-eyestalk with the media of a thousand different worlds, all murmuring quietly into their microphones as they reported that Leia Organa Solo, for some reason still dressed in a travel-worn flight suit, had arrived at the Corruption Panel’s meeting exactly on time.
Han leaned close to Leia’s ear. “Looks like we win already,” he whispered. “Even if the charges won’t stick, Viqi will be too busy ducking holocrews to line up support for the vote.”
Leia started to remind him to be careful of the microphones, then caught herself and simply nodded. Even if he had never cared for it, Han was as experienced at this game as she was.
“What I want to know is how you’re going to get to the accuser’s table,” Jaina whispered. All Leia’s children were there, along with Luke, several more Jedi, and Leia’s new Noghri bodyguards. “We’ll have to float you!”
“We’ll clear the aisle, Mom,” Anakin said, nodding to Jacen.
Leia caught him by the arm.
“Now isn’t the time for the Jedi to seem arrogant,” she said. “I’ll walk.”
“Walk?” Han asked. “How?”
“With a little help from my family.” Leia looked to Jaina—Jaina who had been so angry with her and felt so abandoned by her on Duro—and asked, “Would you mind?”
The smile that came to Jaina’s face was almost as lopsided as Han’s. “Trust me?”
Leia felt her daughter reach out in the Force, then felt herself rise into a standing position. Her legs started to move, by Jaina’s will instead of her own, but in a reasonable imitation of walking. The room erupted into a fresh round of murmurs as the vid-casters commented on what they were broadcasting. Luke and the others took protective positions around Leia, and they started forward.
If Shesh had assassins lurking in the crowd, they had the good sense to realize an attempt now would be hopeless. Leia reached the front of the room and took her seat at the accuser’s table, with Han at her side and her children and the others behind her. As was proper for a formal proceeding of this nature, she did not acknowledge Kvarm Jia or any of her other friends behind the high consoles.
Given the importance of punctuality in such matters, Leia was somewhat surprised to note that Viqi Shesh was not at the respondent’s table. There was only her chief of staff, a beady-eyed little man who could not help glancing at the accuser’s table as though seeing a ghost. Leia caught his gaze and nodded, her lips just hinting at a hard smile. He paled, but returned the gesture and refused to look away.
Han leaned over and whispered, “Where’s Viqi?”
“Where do you think?” Leia asked. Their plan had backfired; Shesh had been so confident of thei
r deaths she had not even bothered to attend the Corruption Panel’s meeting. “She’s rounding up support for the Appeasement Vote.”
Han’s face fell.
At exactly the appropriate moment, the head of the panel, a Bith female named E’noro, thumbed the signal chime to call the meeting to order. Without preamble, she turned to the respondent’s table and addressed Shesh’s beady-eyed chief of staff.
“Staff Chief Pomt, I see that Senator Shesh is not present today. Is this panel to take it she has fled the planet?”
This drew a nervous laugh from the gallery—which was promptly silenced by a thumb on the signal chime. Pomt waited a moment for the disturbance to die away, then stood.
“Of course not. Senator Shesh has no wish to show any disrespect to the panel. But as you know, a crucial vote on the Jedi question is coming to the floor next week, and she refuses to let a cynical ploy by the very subjects of that vote to interfere with her preparation. If it pleases the panel, she requests that the inquiry be postponed until after the Peace Vote.” Pomt cast a sidelong glance in Leia’s direction. “At which time, Senator Shesh will be happy to answer any and all complaints still lodged against her—no matter how groundless they may be.”
“I see.” E’noro turned to Leia. “The timing of the complaint does seem convenient, Princess Leia. Would the Jedi have an objection to such a postponement?”
“The Jedi would not,” Leia said. “But I would. Forgive me for not standing, but I’m sure the panel has heard of my injuries. Let me start by saying that I am here on my own behalf, to complain against a corrupt Senator who has already tried to have me killed in an attempt to conceal her wrongdoings.”
Pomt was on his feet instantly, his voice carrying over the tumult of the crowd only by dint of the ampdroid hovering near his mouth. “These accusations are outrageous slander!”
“I have proof of my charges.” Leia could feel Luke’s astonishment, and that of all the other Jedi. The strategy they had agreed upon had been far more conservative, designed to neutralize Shesh by occupying her time and resources—but it was clear they had to move more boldly. “I am ready to present my proof, and I maintain that any delay greatly enhances the danger not only to my own life, but to the New Republic as well.”
E’noro thumbed the signal chime until the chamber quieted. “Another outburst, and I will bar spectators.” The room quickly went silent, and she turned to Leia. “Princess Leia, what is the substance of your claim?”
Leia summarized what she and Han had discovered about CorDuro Shipping’s treason, then accused Shesh of taking bribes and outlined the attempts on their lives.
“Madam, I really must object—”
E’noro silenced Pomt with a finger wag, then asked Leia, “And the nature of your evidence?”
“Data recordings and witnesses,” Leia said. She could provide enough of each to justify her statement, though the only guilt she could actually prove was CorDuro’s. “The record will speak for itself.”
“Records can be distorted,” Pomt said. “Especially when the subject of an inquiry is not present to defend herself.”
“That is Senator Shesh’s doing, not Princess Leia’s,” E’noro replied harshly.
Leia continued, “I should also mention that Staff Chief Pomt is not innocent in this, Madam. My presence in the panel room today came as something of a shock to him. Both he and Senator Shesh had reason to believe that my husband and I had been killed in an assassination attempt. In fact, the staff chief is the one who provided my location to the original assassins.”
“That’s a lie!”
“I have witnesses.” Leia glanced over her shoulder at her Noghri bodyguards. “You don’t remember going to my apartment to ask my whereabouts?”
Pomt’s face fell.
“Well, Staff Chief?” E’noro asked.
“It had nothing to do with assassins,” Pomt said. “We were, um, concerned about her safety.”
“Yes, I do believe that has been established. Staff Chief Pomt, you may consider yourself relieved of office pending investigation.” E’noro motioned a pair of guards toward him. “These gentlebeings will escort you from the panel room.”
The chamber almost erupted into a tumult—until E’noro thumbed the signal chime. She turned to Leia.
“As for the charges against Senator Shesh …”
E’noro activated a comlink, and, save for the sound of her voice, the panel room fell silent. Leia and everyone else listened patiently as E’noro threatened her way through several layers of assistants, then was finally connected to Shesh.
“I don’t care who you were with, Senator Shesh,” E’noro said into the comlink. “You were expected in my panel room … Now, why should that surprise you? We confirmed the schedule three days ago … I see. No, I hadn’t heard anything about that, but I assure you she’s fine. She’s sitting right here—and saying some rather unpleasant things about you, I might add … Of course we can reschedule … A month from now?”
Leia started to object, but E’noro raised her finger and continued to speak into the comlink.
“Consider it done … You’re welcome, Senator. But I do want to mention that the panel will be taking a vote today …” She paused to glance in both directions down the console; when she received only nods, she said, “And your Senatorial membership will be suspended until the matter is cleared—”
The crackle that came from the comlink was loud enough to hear in the back of the room. E’noro held the device at arm’s length, then shook her head in dismay and thumbed the signal chime.
“It seems,” she said, “this meeting is adjourned.”
A week later, Leia was lying in her bed in the nervesplicing ward of the Orowood Medcenter with both legs elevated on pillows. Han was standing next to her, Anakin and the twins were perched on the edges of the only chairs in the room, and Luke, Mara, and half a dozen other Jedi were gathered around the head of her bed. They were all staring at the vidscreen hanging high on the opposite wall.
“How long can it take to count the vote?” Han demanded. “It’s computerized.”
“Actually, Captain Solo, the organic element slows things considerably,” C-3PO said. He had lasted only one day on the Jolly Man before Izal Waz had dropped him off on Balmorra and personally paid to ship him back to Coruscant. “The computations themselves are done in milliseconds.”
Han reached behind the droid’s head and tripped the main circuit breaker.
“Thank you,” Leia said.
For the first time in weeks, her legs did not ache or throb or burn, but she was barely aware of that fact. She was too interested in watching Borsk Fey’lya’s face on the vidscreen, looking for a beard tug or brow twitch that would tell her which way the Appeasement Vote was going.
Leia’s doctor, a distracted-looking human with a permanent squint and perpetually mussed hair, came into the room. If he noticed the Noghri bodyguards flanking him, or was impressed by the sight of so many famous Jedi in one place, he hid it well.
He simply began to prod, poke, and tickle Leia’s legs, issuing quiet instructions to move this or wiggle that.
The nervesplicer said something about normal sensation and improving motor control. But Fey’lya raised his brow just then, and Leia missed whatever it was the doctor said next.
“Did you see that?” Han asked. “He’s surprised.”
“That can’t be good,” Jaina said.
“It’s hard to know.” Leia reached out and found Han’s hand. “Nobody has been able to tell what Borsk thinks will happen.”
The doctor stepped into Leia’s line of sight. “Princess Leia, I have some news.”
“In a minute.”
Leia cast an appealing glance at her daughter, who quietly used the Force to slide the doctor out of the way.
Fey’lya was looking directly into the cam now, his fangs bared in a politician’s meaningless smile.
“It is my duty to announce that the Peace Vote—or the A
ppeasement Vote, as it has become known in some circles—has failed by a two-to-one ratio.”
“Not even close!” Anakin cried. “How about that?”
The room—and much of the corridor outside—erupted into a chorus of cheering.
The nervesplicer stepped to Leia’s side, his face twisted into a frown. “Princess, are you listening? The repair was fully successful. You can start walking later today. Your legs are going to be fine.”
“I know, Doctor.” Leia pulled the nervesplicer’s face down to hers and kissed his cheek—she had no idea why, other than because she was so happy—then said, “Thank you.”
“Uh, my pleasure.”
The nervesplicer rubbed his cheek, then scowled and retreated. As he departed, Leia sensed that not everyone in the room was completely at ease. She turned to see her brother staring out the transparisteel viewport, his brow furrowed and his jaw clenched, seeming older and wearier than she ever remembered seeing him.
Leia nudged her sister-in-law. “Is Luke seeing something?”
Though Mara would not necessarily share in Luke’s Force-vision—if that was what was happening—the two of them were close enough that she could tell if it was anything to be concerned about.
“We can clear everyone out,” Han volunteered.
Mara shook her head. “He’s been doing this a lot, lately.” She took Luke’s hand. “I’m pretty sure he just falls into thinking and forgets where he is.”
“Yeah.” Han flashed a concerned look in Leia’s direction. “Happens to me all the time.”
“Han, it’s nothing to worry about.” Luke flashed a smile, then turned to Leia and the others. “Jedi Masters don’t crack up—they just get eccentric.”
“That’s a comfort,” Han said.
Luke laughed, then said, “Seriously, I was thinking about where the Jedi go from here. We know this situation has to get worse before it gets better.”
Leia nodded. “With Pomt gone, there’s no way to make those charges stick,” she said. The chief of staff had been found dead with a recorded statement blaming himself for all of the troubles in Shesh’s office. “Nobody believes she’s innocent, but proving it’s another matter.”