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“Thank you, sir. I knew you were one of the good—”

“Shut up.”

The prisoners had dragged the sofa and a couple of tables into place and were huddling behind them when the exterior door slid open. A pair of armored security troopers backed into the office, firing at targets outside.

Han aimed, careful and deliberate, at the neck of the nearer trooper. There was no armor there. He squeezed off a shot. That trooper uttered a grunt of pain and fell forward, out of sight.

The other one turned, swinging his weapon into line. Han fired again, catching him just below the bottom rim of his armor. That trooper collapsed, falling sideways into the office. The door closed.

The Bothan peered out from the sofa. “Shall I bring you their firearms?”

“Shall I shoot you in the face?”

“No, sir. Thank you, sir.” The Bothan ducked behind the sofa again.

Han cautiously moved forward until he was within reach of the fallen trooper. He holstered his blaster pistol as fast as he normally drew it—

Tried to, actually. This wasn’t his pistol and there was no holster there. Unthinking, he dropped the pistol to the carpet.

He growled a Wookiee curse, hoping Leia hadn’t seen his mistake, and snatched up the trooper’s rifle and switched it over to stun. “Leia …”

“Quiet, Han. This isn’t working.”

The exterior door slid open again. Han saw a wall of armored backs edging his way. He opened fire, spraying stun bolts among them. Troopers fell as if hit by a single giant hammer. The door slid closed again.

“Got that, Fuzzy? I just shot a bunch of troopers in the back. Would a hero of the Alliance do that?”

The Bothan didn’t peer out, and his voice was muffled by the intervening sofa. “I bet you used stun bolts.”

Han growled.

“Han, switch with me.”

He did, clicking the rifle back to blasterfire. He spun and took a sideways step to be outside the direct line of fire from the exterior door, then opened fire on the interior. His blaster bolts chipped away at the crater Leia had made, filling the air with more smoke and burning insulation debris.

He heard the exterior door slide open again, heard Leia fire four times in quick succession. The door slid shut.

As the smoke drifted away from the interior door, moved by the room’s air-conditioning, Han could see light through the hole he’d shot in his target. “We’re through.”

“Opening it.” Leia moved up beside him and waved with her free hand. Han switched back to stun bolts.

This was the most dangerous moment, with both of them concentrating their attention on the interior door. Han’s sense of timing said the troopers outside would spend a few seconds communicating their next plan of attack, then charge. But that gave him and Leia seconds to act—forever, to a cagy old smuggler and a Jedi.

With Leia’s exertion through the Force, Daala’s inner door slid up.

Two blurs in blue leapt out, firing blaster pistols. Han cut loose, traversing his aim across the two of them. A bolt passed between him and Leia, and it was not a stun bolt. Another hit the carpet just in front of his foot. Han felt the heat of it through his boot and jerked his foot back.

Both males, one Falleen and one human, wearing naval uniforms, hit the carpet, unconscious. Han maintained his fire through the door, spraying the office interior, though no targets were immediately in sight.

A moment later he heard a shout, a woman’s voice strong enough to be heard above the blasterfire, from within: “Hold your fire! We surrender!”

Leia spun, covering the outer door again, but she kept her free hand up, clearly holding the interior door open.

Han left off firing but did not lower his weapon. “Show yourself.”

Admiral Parova appeared in the doorway, her hands in the air. “Admiral Daala is down. You hit her with that last volley.”

Han heard the exterior door slide open … and Leia did not fire.

He hazarded a look over his shoulder. Now entering the room were Masters Kam and Tionne.

Han returned his attention to Parova. “Take