Enemy Lines II_ Rebel Stand - Aaron Allston [76]
“Back to the mobile mines,” Tycho said. “It does beg the question of how long they’ve had them, and why this is the first instance we’ve run into of them being used.”
“Right.” Wedge considered. “Han, Leia, when you were making the insertion into Hapes a few weeks ago, you became convinced that the dovin basal mines didn’t just drag things out of hyperspace. You said you thought they registered every ship’s unique mass characteristics and communicated that information to the Vong leaders. Let them build up a sort of Vong database of our ship movements.”
Leia nodded. “That’s right. And Jaina used their reliance on those mass characteristics against the Yuuzhan Vong while she was there.”
“My guess,” Wedge said, “is that this mobile dovin basal mine came after you because it recognized you, specifically the Millennium Falcon. Another ship, they might devote fewer resources to capturing or destroying, but loss of the Falcon and the Solos would be a big morale hit for our side.”
Han and Leia exchanged a glance. Han’s expression was cocky, but Leia could see that he recognized the danger if Wedge’s theory was correct.
“Meaning,” Leia said, “that any ship belonging to one of our side’s, well, celebrities might be detected as such at any time, wherever it goes.”
“Something to keep in mind.” Wedge turned to Tycho. “Call Cilghal in for a meeting later today or tomorrow. And Jaina and her psychological warfare advisers. Maybe we can use this to our advantage.”
“Are we done here?” Han asked. “We have some important things to do. Like running down Jaina before you monopolize her. We’d sort of like to spend some time with her. It’s why we keep coming back here. Not to look at your face.”
Wedge gave him a toothy grin. “Watch that insolence. I might just have to call you up to active service, General Solo.”
Leia lay in her bed. Yes, it was too hard, too lumpy, and light-years away from the quarters that had been her home for years, but this was her bed, and just knowing that it was a place she could return to again and again gave her pleasure out of proportion to its characteristics. She’d flopped onto it, fully dressed, luxuriating in possession if not in comfort, the instant they’d entered their quarters.
Someone knocked on the door. Leia lifted her head and looked at Han on the other side. He stared at her, expectant.
“Your turn,” she said.
“Why mine?”
“Because I said it first.”
“Can’t argue with that logic.” Han rolled to his feet and pressed the access panel beside the door. The door slid aside, revealing a tall, awkward-looking man; the man’s left arm was in a sling.
“Ah, hello,” their visitor said. “I’m Tam Elgrin.”
“I know who you are.” Han shook his hand. “You spied around for a while, and then decided to quit. Headaches ever since.”
“Something like that.”
“Come on in.”
Leia rose. The quarters she shared with Han were not large or well-furnished, but the two of them could make a pretense at civilization. “Can I get you something to drink, Tam?”
“No, I’m fine. I’m, uh, here to talk to you about Tarc.”
“We saw him just a few minutes ago,” Leia said. “He mostly talked about you.”
Han waved him toward a chair. “So talk.”
A rap at his door awakened Kyp. Still clothed—he’d settled in only to rest, and was surprised to find that he’d nodded off—the Jedi Master rose and activated the door. It slid out of the way to reveal Piggy. The Gamorrean pilot leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, a tough-guy posture.
“It’s the Great One,” Piggy said.
Kyp rubbed sleep out of his eyes. “What about her?”
“She wants to see you.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
“Where?”
“On the roof.”
Kyp gave the Gamorrean a closer look. Piggy wasn’t normally so taciturn. In fact, he sounded more like a bar bouncer than himself. Kyp reached out with a whisper of his control over the Force and reassured himself that he could sense the pilot, that this Piggy wasn’t a Yuuzhan Vong warrior in an unusually distinctive ooglith masquer disguise. “I’m on my way up.”
Kyp emerged onto the biotics facility’s roof, an uneven