Enemy Lines II_ Rebel Stand - Aaron Allston [38]
Vannix, Vankalay System
“We can probably manage twenty or more public appearances in the next four days,” Leia said. She was whispering, her words nearly drowned out by her other voice, the one emerging from R2-D2, who was replaying the recording of an argument they’d had a few days ago about Corellia’s Senators. “I’m not sure what the anti-Jedi sentiment is on Vannix; if there’s any significant amount, we ought to downplay me and promote you. Han Solo, the Hero.” She sat at one end of the most comfortable of the chamber’s couches.
Han lay stretched out on his back on the couch, his head in Leia’s lap. He stared incuriously at the ornate floral pattern on the ceiling of their quarters. “Sounds like a lot of work.”
“Politics is hard work, Han. Hasn’t being married to me all these years taught you that?”
“Oh, yes. Which is one reason I’m still not a politician. And I have to point out, we could do all that work and she could still win.”
“It’s true.”
“In which case the Yuuzhan Vong get another allied world, and we don’t get our submersibles. And I’ve already sent off for the transport for them, so I’ll look like an idiot.”
“Also true. So?”
“So there are two reasons to play sabacc, Leia. For fun, or to make money. If your main goal is to have fun, losing a little money isn’t too bad. If you’re out to make money, and you do, not having fun isn’t much of a hardship.”
Leia looked into her husband’s eyes, suspicious. “I worry whenever anything that sounds even vaguely like philosophy comes out of your mouth. What are you getting at?”
He flashed her a trust-me grin. “I’m getting at the fact that you’re talking about playing a fair game. It’s much better under these circumstances to cheat at cards. Better, faster, and surer.”
Coruscant
Luke ignited his lightsaber and held the blade over his head, the better to deflect any blaster damage raining down upon them. But he didn’t know what sorts of booby-traps had been set up on this turbolift, didn’t know if it would be blaster damage or poison gas, blades, or acid, attacks from above or below. “Mara, cut the door open,” he said.
His wife looked confused, eyes flickering back and forth, not focusing on the door before them.
“You have five seconds remaining,” said the droid voice.
“Tahiri,” Luke said. “The door.”
Tahiri lit her lightsaber with a snap-hiss and plunged its point into the metal at the seam. The door began to glow and soften, but it was obvious that it would take far more than five seconds to cut an exit-sized hole in it.
“Authorization Bluenek two seven ithor four nine na-boo,” Mara said.
“Accepted,” said the droid voice. “Welcome, Mara Jade.”
The turbolift dropped. Tahiri, thrown off-balance, stumbled, her lightsaber blade swinging around toward Bhindi. Luke caught and deflected the accidental blow, and Tahiri snapped her lightsaber off almost instantly. “Sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be.” Luke shut his own weapon off. He turned to Mara. “You knew about this?”
The turbolift stopped and the doors snapped open, revealing a hallway, its contents and walls made visible by light spilling in from doorways to either side. The hall was strewn with wreckage, pieces of chairs, chunks of ceiling, fragments of droids.
The air was cool, but strong with the smell of decay; it overpowered the perfume in Luke’s nostrils. But there was, in Luke’s ears, for the first time in days, the hum of air-processing units and other powered equipment: the hum of civilization.
There were, however, no voices. No distant noises suggesting broadcasts or recordings being listened to.
Tahiri looked at black scorching on the wall nearest her. “Lightsaber hit,” she said. Her voice was subdued, a whisper appropriate to this setting. “It looks like some of the droids got it that way, too.”
Luke returned his attention to his wife. “Mara?”
Recovering, Mara shook her head. “No, I didn’t know about this. But there was a chance—I used various access codes back