Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 07_ Conviction - Aaron Allston [85]
Together the three Jedi charged the troopers.
“Wynn, what the hell—”
In Daala’s monitor, her Chief of Staff looked haggard, as if he’d been working without rest or food for days, even though she’d seen him recently. He gave her a look of disbelief. “All indications, Admiral, are that we’re under assault by the Yuuzhan Vong.”
“Not possible.”
“I know.”
With an infuriated noise, half scream and half gargle, Daala switched the monitor back to the desk of her secretary.
The Bothan was still gone. But in his place sat Han Solo.
“Solo! What’s going on out there?”
Han shrugged. “Your secretary served some snacks. Bug eggs on crackers, I think. Leia and I didn’t have any but everyone else did. Then they all started running off for the refresher. Except the Hapan ambassador. She didn’t make it in time and kind of disgraced herself. Your secretary ate the most of all and he passed right out.” He looked down, apparently to where the secretary lay off-cam. “His fur is turning gray and curling at the ends. You might want to come out and give it a look.”
Without answering, Daala switched to a data feed. She rose. “It’s a Jedi assault. We’re leaving.” When she turned to face her back wall, she was pleased to note that the two navy officers already had their blasters in hand, ready to defend this chamber.
Parova stood, too. “You have a way out?”
“Of course.” From a pocket, Daala fished out her comlink and spoke into the device. “Emergency override zeta thirteen.”
A section of wall the height and width of a Gamorrean wrestler, unmarked by crease or line, suddenly withdrew a full meter.
Daala moved toward it. Then her body jolted as energy flooded through her.
She’d felt it before, years ago, in training and in combat—a stun bolt. Her vision contracted in an instant to gray nothingness.
Her last thought, before she hit the floor, before consciousness escaped her entirely, was: How did they get in without me hearing them?
Leia’s voice was filled with scorn. “ ‘You might want to come out and give it a look’?” She fired another full-strength blaster bolt into Daala’s door, deepening the crater where she thought the locking mechanism must be. She desperately missed her lightsaber, but she could not have managed to bring it through the security check.
Han shrugged. “If it had worked, history would have said it was genius.”
“Well … you’re probably right.” She fired again. The hole deepened another centimeter. The foam lining the interior of the door was already on fire. The smoke issuing from it stank with a sharpness that made Leia think of poisonous fumes.
“Besides, we learned something. She didn’t ask about you shooting her door. Means it’s so well sound-insulated that she didn’t know you were doing it.” Han kept his own blaster pointed in the general direction of the prisoners and the door out into the exterior hall. He thought he could hear blasterfire from beyond it, distant blasterfire. That probably meant the Jedi were coming. It also probably meant there were Senate Building defenders between the Jedi and this office, which could be problematic.
The Hapan ambassador, a woman of middle years with looks normally only found in very costly holodramas, glared at him. “I did not disgrace myself.”
“Of course you didn’t, sweetheart. But you still can, you know.” Han reached down and hauled the Bothan secretary to a sitting position. “All right, last chance. Open that door or I shave you, dip you in gold paint, and sell you to Jawas for spare parts.”
The Bothan winced. “I’m not a droid.”
“I’ll sell you to especially stupid Jawas.”
The Bothan shook his head. “Forgive me, General. But I won’t help you, and you won’t sell me. You’re a hero of the Alliance.”
Han made a disgusted noise and let the secretary drop. “Leia, I swear, I hate having a good reputation. I hate it.”
Not answering, Leia fired again.
The blasterfire outside was growing louder, closer. Han glared at