Star Wars_ Death Star - Michael Reaves [132]
The Force?
As Atour digested this, the command office door slid up and the old man exited. One of the stormtroopers and the Wookiee had a brief conversation.
“Sorry, sir, but I can’t see the Wookiee clearly enough to read what he is saying. The older human male just said to the younger, ‘Where did you dig up that old fossil?’ ”
Atour frowned, perplexed. What did that mean?
“The youngest one appears to be speaking now, but I can’t see his face. The two humans appear agitated, judging by their body language.”
Atour continued to watch as both men stopped arguing and looked at the droids.
“I surmise the droids are speaking,” Persee said. “Now the older human has just said, ‘Princess?’
“ ‘Where is she?’ the younger one asks.”
Princess? “Persee, check the main computer for information on ‘Princess.’ ”
The droid tapped console controls as Atour continued to watch the image. The two men were talking now, both somewhat agitated. The younger one—no more than a boy, really—seemed to be trying to convince the older one of something.
“Sir, a human female, Princess Leia Organa, was recently brought aboard by Darth Vader. A Rebel, according to the files, and scheduled to be terminated.”
Atour shook his head in incredulity. It seemed obvious that the two men he was watching were not stormtroopers, and that they were here due in some part to Princess Leia. He knew the name, of course. Bail Organa’s daughter. Of the late planet Alderaan.
The protocol droid shuffled forward and handed the boy a pair of electronic stun cuffs. The boy moved toward the Wookiee and attempted to put the cuffs on him. The Wookiee did not seem at all pleased with the idea. The boy backed away quickly, turned to the older man—who wasn’t really all that old himself—and gave him the binders.
“Persee? What are they saying?”
“ ‘… Chewie, I think I know what he has in mind.’ That from the older one.”
The man put the cuffs on the Wookiee’s wrists. “Ah,” Atour said.
“Sir? I don’t understand.”
“They are apparently marching right into the nexu’s den.” He smiled. “They have come for the Princess.”
“That hardly seems wise.”
“No, it seems foolhardy in the extreme. How will they escape if they do find—aha!”
“I am still at a loss, sir.”
“That’s why they’re investigating the tractor beam. They must mean to steal a ship. I’ll wager that the old man—a Jedi, if I’m not mistaken—has gone to disable the device. Clever.” Atour frowned. “Unlikely they will succeed, however.”
The men and the stun-cuffed Wookiee exited the room, leaving the two droids alone in the office.
“I think we’ve seen enough of this,” Atour said. “Where is the Princess being held?”
P-RC3 adjusted a control on the console. “Level Five, Detention Block AA-Twenty-three.”
Atour nodded. He didn’t fancy their chances of success, but he had to give them credit for bravery. He would have helped them, but he didn’t see any way that he could. Detention cells were controlled locally; they couldn’t be overridden by the central computer.
It occurred to him then that they would have to take a lift up to the Detention Level, and they would need the current code to reach that level. Perhaps they already had access to it, but he doubted it.
Well, he couldn’t magically open cell doors for them, but finding the proper protocol for section egress and feeding it to the lift they would be taking was the work of only a few moments.
“Good luck,” Atour said softly, after transmitting the code. “You’ll need it.”
As for himself, what he needed was a drink.
62
THE HARD HEART CANTINA, DEATH STAR
Memah had asked Rodo to remove the few patrons who were having too much fun, and what was left was a somber crowd; mostly people who kept their conversations to themselves or had conversations with themselves. Either way, they did it quietly.
Rodo and Nova Stihl sat at the bar, with Ratua. It was apparent that the bond he and Nova had formed on the prison planet was stronger than their differences