Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 06_ Vortex - Denning Troy [30]
Mirax joined her husband in glowering at the acting Grand Master. “Honestly, after what they’ve been through, it’s an insult.”
Hamner’s eyes flashed at the cynicism in the voices of both Horns, and Han realized that if he didn’t set his plan in motion now, the Masters were going to be too busy arguing to back him up. He kissed Leia on the cheek, then dropped to his haunches and looked Allana in the eye.
“Keep a watch on these guys,” he said. “We don’t want them missing my signal because they’re, uh, discussing something.”
“You mean arguing.” Allana shot a scowl in the Masters’ direction, then said, “But don’t worry. I’ll be watching.”
Han chuckled. “Looks like I’m in good hands, then.” He rose and glanced over Allana’s head toward Saar and Altamik. “You two clear on your part?”
Saar replied with a nervous nod. “Of course.” Like all Chevs, he had pale skin and a heavy brow that made him look like a human thug—an impression that was only reinforced by the tailored cut of his shimmersilk robe. “We wait for your signal.”
“Then just behave normally,” Turi added. As petite and athletic as Saar was tall and husky, she had green, mischief-filled eyes and a smile diabolic enough to suggest she’d be a lot of fun in a firefight. “And let Daala do the rest.”
Han flashed her a lopsided grin. “You got it, kid. I’ll handle everything else.”
He winked at Leia and turned toward the massive Temple doors. A pair of Jedi Knight guards peered through a security port, then wished him well and opened a small hatch in the base of one of the huge doors. He stepped out into the portico and stood looking down on the Mandalorian siege camp that lay spread across Fellowship Plaza. How this was not being blasted as illegal by every media outlet on the planet, he could not understand. If Daala had called in the GA’s own military, she could have at least claimed that she was merely taking action to protect the citizenry from a mysterious threat to public health. But the Jedi had a lot of friends in the GA military, and so she had turned to her Mandalorian allies instead.
Han had only a moment before a flock of hovercams came streaming toward him, weaving and bobbing as they jockeyed for a clear line of sight—and reminding him far too much of a swarm of bloodsucking skeetos. Knowing that Leia and the Masters would be eavesdropping on every sound he made, he took a deep breath and started down the stairs, singing one of his favorite Sy Snootles tunes, “Crazy Wicked Witch.”
The hovercade streamed over the Mandalorian line at a velocity approaching breakneck, then whipped around in front of the Temple and came to a nose-dropping halt at the base of the stairs. A dozen aircar hatches flew open, disgorging fifty blue-armored Galactic Alliance Security troops who quickly shouldered their weapons and began to peer through heat-sensing scopes in search of snipers.
Han stopped on a landing, about a dozen paces up the stairs from Daala’s limousine and the medwagons, and held his vest open to prove he was unarmed. That didn’t keep the officer in charge, a lanky human captain whose face remained hidden behind a reflective helmet visor, from giving him a thorough frisking that was documented in close detail by the swarm of hovercams whirring about their heads.
After the captain finished and stepped away, Han put on a hurt expression and stared after the man in feigned shock. “I feel so … dirty,” he said. “Maybe next time you could buy me dinner or something.”
“I don’t believe you’re Captain Harfard’s type … Captain Solo,” Daala said, emerging from her limousine. Dressed in a white tunic and slacks that looked an awful lot like the uniform of a Grand Admiral, she ascended the stairs and stopped a pace away from Han, then lifted her chin and glared at him in obvious disappointment. “I was expecting to see Grand Master Hamner, or at least one of the Council Masters.