Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 08_ Ascension - Christie Golden [69]
“And in exchange,” Han said, “we get this information, which you have indicated is very important.”
“Oh yes,” Sligh said. “Very important.”
Han and Leia exchanged glances. Leia gently touched the Force, to ascertain if the Squibs themselves were comfortable with their end of the bargain. If they were bluffing, she’d sense smug satisfaction; Squibs always wanted to come out the winner in haggling. If Han and Leia were getting the better part of the deal, they’d be feeling resigned.
What she sensed surprised her.
“You’re … afraid,” she said softly, stunned.
“Afraid? Us?” scoffed Grees. “You know, you keep doing that Force thing, we might just walk with our information. I’m sure others would find it just as valuable as you would.”
But they wouldn’t. Leia knew it, and she was suddenly very worried. Squibs usually erred on the side of overconfidence, particularly this family unit. She’d seen them cheerfully backtalk armed beings and launch themselves at Imperial stormtroopers without a second thought.
She caught and held Sligh’s gaze. He blinked at her with large, soft brown eyes, then his gaze slid away.
“Sligh,” she said, keeping her voice calm, “what have you gotten yourselves involved—”
Blasterfire interrupted her.
Han turned the table over, sweeping Allana into his arms and racing for one of the large duracrete pots that held the shade trees. Leia and the Squibs were right behind them, all four drawing and firing their own weapons as they ran. Two blasts later, the table and chairs where they had been sitting were nothing but twisted piles of metal. Other diners dived for cover, and the patio of the Riverview Café, so peaceful just an instant before, was now filled with the sounds of blasters and screaming.
Leia and the Squibs dropped down beside Han and Allana. The duracrete pot was holding up better than the table and chairs, but that wasn’t saying a lot. Leia met Han’s eyes and nodded. At a signal from Han, they poked their heads around the container, each on one side, and fired. The quick glace didn’t tell them much, only that their attackers wore vaguely Imperial-styled armor, they had blasters, and the blasters were firing at them.
“This pot isn’t going to hold for much longer,” Han muttered. He caught Leia’s eye. Decades spent fighting beside this man had given Leia an insight into how he thought that few others possessed. She knew what he wanted to do and, worse, realized with a sinking feeling that he was right. The pot wouldn’t hold, and then—
It was the safest of two very unsafe options. Leia gave Han the briefest of nods.
“Amelia,” Han said, “you’re going to have to make a run for it. Head back toward the Falcon. We’ll cover you and meet you there as soon as possible. It’s not far and you know where to go. Can you do that, sweetheart?”
Eyes wide, breathing accelerated, Allana nodded. With a brief pang, Leia realized that her granddaughter was getting used to having pleasant moments interrupted by blasterfire. Allana was heir to a throne. It was not the first time, nor would it be the last, that the girl’s life would be disrupted by danger.
Leia firmly set aside her worries and returned her attention to distracting their attackers long enough so they wouldn’t notice one little girl fleeing to safety.
Allana was thinking furiously. She glanced around, trying to figure out the best way back to the spaceport. Dive into the river? Run behind other tables? She looked over at the restaurant—and there was her escape route. She braced herself to race for safety, then turned her head to regard the Squibs. They were jumping up and down, firing around the pot and shouting insults, but she could sense the fear rolling off them.
Allana made her decision. She grabbed Emala by the arm and pointed. Emala’s eyes widened in understanding and she alerted