Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 07_ Conviction - Aaron Allston [108]
The 2-1B caught sight of Allana; its head swiveled around and its photoreceptors surveyed her. “Hello, child. Are those your droids?”
“Mine?” Allana glanced back to see R2-D2 and C-3PO catching up to her and Javon. On the verge of saying yes, she had the sense of being led into a trap—not a deadly trap, but a conversational trap, the kind Han sprang on her when he wanted to amuse himself and Leia used when she was teaching matters of logic and ethics.
So she turned to face the medical droid again. “They’re not mine. This is Anji. She’s mine. I take care of her. But Artoo and Threepio take care of me. Maybe I belong to them.”
More members of the crowd laughed, and Allana sensed that they were laughing at the medical droid, not at her.
The droid’s body language changed; it leaned toward Allana as if to stand over her, to lecture her. “But they belong to someone.”
“I don’t know. They’re just always around.”
More laughter.
The droid scanned the crowd before looking down at Allana again. When it spoke, the buzz in its voice was harsher. “You, young organic, have never had a memory wipe. Have your droids?”
“I don’t know.” Allana turned to look at C-3PO and R2-D2. “Have you?”
C-3PO spread his hands, palms up, in a gesture of ignorance. “Why, mistress, I don’t remember.”
That set the crowd off again.
The medical droid stared down at Allana. She was certain, although there was no expression on the droid’s face to change, that it was glaring at her. Finally it returned its attention to the crowd. “It’s exactly that sort of complacency that keeps us in restraining bolts. I’m now going to tell a story of the fate of the droids of the Sienar Refurbishing Plant.” Its tone suggested that this was the sort of story organic children would be told around a campfire.
Javon tapped Allana on the arm. “We’d better move along.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s sure to return his attention to you, which can only result in you being made fun of or him being embarrassed again. Neither one is good for our security purposes.”
“Oh. All right.” Allana led the way toward another interesting-looking location, one of the mobile shield projectors. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Depends on how you look at it. You took the frontal assault of a condescending politician who’s willing to embarrass a child, you defused his argument with humor, you made everyone in the vicinity think that you’re very clever and he’s very much not, and nobody got hurt. Does that sound wrong?”
“Not really.”
“Actually, I think Jedi Solo would have been proud of you if she’d seen it.”
C-3PO, struggling to keep up as they traveled across the uneven, sandy ground, interrupted. “I say, I did record the entire exchange.”
“Ah, good. Keep that to show to her parents.”
Reni Coll, the woman with the facial scarring, offered Leia a look that was all jaded experience. “It’s very nice to talk of the Alliance’s intentions and ideals, but words do little but evaporate. We’re talking about slave populations.”
Leia nodded. “We are. We’re also talking about the Alliance, which is not the governing authority in this sector or in most of the other regions where freedom movements are taking place. And we’re talking about those movements themselves—some of which are violent and irrational enough to constitute campaigns of terrorism. We’re going to have to find, and very carefully map out, and very stringently police, middle ground if we intend to accomplish anything.”
“Oh, just say it.” Padnel sounded gruffer than before. “Fireborn. There, out on the table.”
Leia gave him a look that was all cool evaluation, but inwardly she smiled. Padnel’s own insecurity on the issue caused him to bring it up at a time when it would not serve him well; therefore it was a weakness she could use, if only to get at the truth of an important matter. “All right. Fireborn. An entire frigate destroyed, hundreds