Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 06_ Vortex - Denning Troy [122]
“That was several million credits’ worth of Alliance property you just destroyed.” Dorvan did not seem nearly as shocked as he should have, and Booster began to have the unhappy feeling that Daala’s chief of state had known exactly what he was walking into—and done it anyway. “But at least you missed the control hub. You could have killed someone.”
“There’s always next time,” Booster replied. “Ratt, set a course for target two.”
“Target two?” Dorvan echoed. “I don’t know what you expect this destruction to accomplish, but I assure you, it won’t secure anyone’s release. Chief Daala is very determined.”
“So am I,” Booster growled. He grabbed Dorvan by the arm and marched him toward Saliah’s comm console. “I’ve been worried sick about Valin and Jysella, and I’m tired of it. I’m going to keep blasting until my grandkids are free, and if I run out of mirrors before that happens, I’ll start on the habitation stations.”
Dorvan shook his head. “You haven’t thought this through,” he said. “The entire Sixth Fleet is in orbit. They’ll blast you to bits before you reach the third target.”
“Not me, Wynn,” Booster said, smiling. “Us. You, me, Fost Bramsin, Drikl Lecersen, Merratt Jaxton, and ninety-six other very important Coruscanti.”
Dorvan’s brow rose. “You’re holding us hostage?”
“I’m hosting a sabacc tournament,” Booster replied, putting some iron in his voice. “And the invitation did say ‘no early departure.’ ”
Dorvan shook his head. “You’ll never get away with this,” he said. “Our security teams—”
“Are no longer a problem,” the weapons officer, Marfen, said. “You have heard of coma gas, right?”
A series of images appeared on the bridge display, showing several staging areas near the tournament floor. Each of the salons was filled with unconscious bodyguards, many of them already disarmed and bound. Booster was glad to see that Marfen had selected only views with no visible Jedi Knights; he didn’t want Dorvan to see the full extent of their plan—at least not yet.
“You might want to explain the situation to your boss.” Booster took a mike off Saliah’s comm console. “Let her know who we’ve got aboard. We’ll even send her a list, if she wants.”
“This is outrageous and foolish,” Dorvan said. He was either a great sabacc player or a terrible liar, because his voice remained even and his face expressionless. “You do understand that Chief Daala will never negotiate for hostages, don’t you?”
“Try her,” Booster said. “She might surprise you.”
Saliah opened a channel and looked up. “What’s Daala’s comm code?”
When Dorvan hesitated, Booster said, “Just the one message, then you can go down to the tournament.” He took the cigar stub out of his mouth and smiled. “Once you’re at the sabacc table, you’ll hardly know you’re a hostage at all.”
THE CHALLENGER HAD CHOSEN HIS GROUND WELL. STANDING ON A catwalk nearly eight meters above Saba’s head, he had the advantage of height, and of a safety rail that would serve as a defensive barrier. But to her keen senses, he appeared ill prepared to force a confrontation. When he spoke, his tone was sharp and tense instead of low and confident. His movements were jerky instead of graceful and strong, and the bitterness of his distress lingered on her tongue every time she tested the air. Most of all, her reptilian eyes could see his fear in the infrared glow of his torso and head, in the way his body was holding its blood and heat in its most vital areas. Kenth Hamner did not want to be there. He was frightened and uncertain of himself, and he had spent the last ten minutes stalking Saba without gathering the courage to strike.
That was no way to come after a longtail.
“… Jedi Order has served galactic civilization since its founding,” Hamner was saying. “If you do this, you’ll be severing a tradition that goes back twenty-five thousand years!”
“We’re serving civilization by saving it,” Kyp Durron replied.