Before the Storm - Michael P. Kube-McDowell [20]
The only time she acknowledged their presence was when the Sniffer silently signaled an alarm. Then she would let the Shooter guide her to whatever sheltered spot he chose, and would wait there until the Sniffer satisfied himself that there was no threat. It happened often enough that it no longer startled her, but infrequently enough that it was only a minor annoyance.
Still, Leia never expected it to happen while she was walking along the Memorial Corridor, just outside the walls of the Senate chamber.
One moment she was striding briskly past the holo statuary of the heroes of the Rebellion, robes flying, her mind sorting through what she knew about the Y’taa. Then, in an eyeblink, the Sniffer sharply raised his hands and the Shooter pushed Leia sideways into one of the niches where the pillar between it and the next offered cover.
Her heart was suddenly racing, and her thoughts raced with it. Unreasoning fear brought back the memory of Tig Peramis, livid with anger, looking at her as Vader’s daughter instead of as a royal child of Alderaan. Was he angry enough to kill? Had Tolik Yar been tricked into betraying her? How horrible to be forced to be afraid here, on the doorstep of the New Republic’s most famous symbol of freedom, the first structure to be rebuilt after Imperial factions turned Imperial City into a battle zone.
Then, just as suddenly, it was over. “Clear,” the Shooter said in his emotionless voice, moving aside to allow Leia to emerge from the niche. Frowning crossly, Leia hurried after the Sniffer and demanded to know what had prompted the alarm.
“I detected a new energy field at the entrance to the Senate Hall,” the Sniffer said, pointing. “It became active as we approached.”
Still frowning, Leia strode a few dozen steps farther down the corridor, then stopped short and laughed despite herself. Hanging over the ornate double doors of the Senate chamber was a large holosign. On appearance alone, the sign belonged in a factory, beside the entry to the work floor. The text it displayed cemented that impression. It read:
882 DAYS WITHOUT
A SHOT FIRED IN ANGER
Remember,
Peace Is No Accident
Wearing a smile that was broad enough to touch her eyes, Leia looked left and right for the perpetrators of the joke. “All right, ’fess up,” she called out. “Whose handiwork is this?”
Tolik Yar emerged from the shadow of a pillar to Leia’s left and showed a toothy, self-satisfied grin. “If it works for broken toes, bumped heads, and burned fingers, why not for higher stakes as well?”
“I like it,” Leia confessed. “But isn’t it a bit—undignified? Behn-kihl-nahm will never let it stay.”
“Behn-kihl-nahm helped arrange for it to be installed,” said Tolik Yar. “And as for dignity—any senator more concerned with dignity than outcomes desperately needs to be reminded why we’re here. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“You are a gem, Tolik Yar,” she said, surprising him with a hug. She turned back and looked up at the sign. “I do agree. And I think we should have a little celebration when that number reaches a thousand.”
“I’ll let it be known. In the meantime, good news—the problem with the Y’taa has unexpectedly been resolved. My apologies for interrupting your day.” He bowed deeply and backed away.
“Scamp,” she said. Her smile lasted all the way back to her desk.
The shipyard boss beamed broadly as he led Han Solo and Chewbacca into the hangar where a gleaming Millennium Falcon rested on its skids. “You’re going to be very happy, very happy,” he said, rubbing his palms together. “I only let my best mechanics touch her.”
“No droids,” Han said in a warning tone, surveying the ship’s exterior. “You better not have used any droids. Droids don’t understand creative engineering.”
“No droids,” the yard boss said reassuringly. “It was all hand work. Which is why the rebuild took so long, of course. The crew chief used to work on Corellian freighters at Toprawa. Stock, of course, nothing like what you have here. But at least he knows the model well enough to spot your modifications.