Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 02_ Omen - Christie Golden [35]
Corran Horn had always been forthright. His was not a delicate or diplomatic tongue. But always before, he had come down firmly on the side of focusing on what was important. This sudden divergence on his part to putting his offspring first—an understandable desire, and one that everyone here felt sympathy for, but one that could not be accommodated—was unsettling and perhaps dangerous.
Before he could speak, Cilghal said quickly, “We have much data that needs to be processed before we are ready for you and Mirax. Perhaps in a few hours? And if you could speak with your father-in-law, I am certain he would wish to do everything he can to help his grandchildren.”
Corran’s posture did not relax, but his anger dissipated somewhat. He nodded curtly. “A few hours then. And Mirax is already talking to Booster.”
The tension had been defused, but Hamner sighed inwardly. He suspected it was only a momentary reprieve.
JEDI TEMPLE, CORUSCANT
IT WAS, LEIA MUSED AS SHE STOOD BATHED IN FLATTERING BLUE LIGHT, not all that unpleasant a place as far as prisons went. She herself had been in worse. More than once.
She was currently in an isolated corner of the detention center located deep within the Jedi Temple, along with her husband Han, their daughter Jaina, and the person they had come to see. This particular Asylum Block, a two-story cellhouse with a barrier field erected around it, could almost be taken for a comfortable apartment at first glance. The interior had flowform couches, tables and chairs, and a state-of-the-art holographic center that her gadget-loving nephew Ben would likely envy. Two doors opened from the main living area to a bedroom and a refresher.
Just a pleasant apartment—if one’s apartment had transparisteel walls in the living area, had all its furniture bolted to the floor, and was surrounded by Force-suppressing ysalamari housed in olbio trees, expensively and swiftly brought from their native Myrkr. Leia and her family were standing on an observation balcony with a barrier field safely between them and the inmate.
“Where can I sign up to be a Jedi prisoner?” Han said. “This place is nicer than my first living quarters.”
Standing within a centimeter of the transparisteel wall, Seff Hellin, square-jawed, curly-haired, stared stiffly up at the Solo family. He gave no sign of recognition. His arms were folded across his chest, and his eyes were like chips of ice.
Jaina, Jag, Tahiri Veila, Winter Celchu, and Mirax Horn had taken him down a few days earlier. He had been spotted disguised as a worker outside of the Armand Isard Correctional Facility where Valin Horn was contained. It was one of the rare strokes of luck they seemed to be having that they were able to capture him both alive and without the Galactic Alliance knowing a thing about it, although a great deal of damage had been done to the prison during the incident. It had been all over the newsvids, but thus far no member of “Darkmeld,” as Jaina had dubbed the team, had been identified.
Leia kept her eyes on Hellin as she spoke to Jaina.
“I’m glad you removed him from the medcenter. This feels better.”
Jaina and Leia had commed Han right after the exquisitely uncomfortable Masters meeting and asked him to meet them here. Now Jaina stood between her parents, small and dark-haired like her mother, vitally energetic like her father, watching not the prisoner she had helped to bring down but Han’s and Leia’s reactions.
“He’s a patient, not a prisoner, but of course we have to keep him contained. The incident with Valin Horn painfully demonstrated the need for that.”
Han frowned. “Although I gotta say, I think the blue light would start to bug me. Hey—is that a PV-One-Eight-Seven holographic display unit?”
“Dad,