Star Wars_ Legacy of the Force 01_ Betrayal - Aaron Allston [11]
Leia considered. “I don’t know. Maybe I should be up front and center to bat back their blaster assaults while you fire on them from the side.”
“Oh, my.” This third voice was higher-pitched than Han’s and carried just a hint of alarm. “If I may ask, has there been some change of plans?”
Han and Leia turned. Entering the outer chamber was C-3PO, the gold-toned protocol droid who had served them faithfully—if fussily—for four decades.
C-3PO moved up to them, his every action accompanied by the barely audible sound of whining servos, and added, “I thought that the plan was to admit them, then feed them the appetizers I have labored for so long to assemble. Appetizers that are laid out in the kitchen. Was I wrong? Will there be shooting?”
Han and Leia exchanged a glance. “Appetizers would be easier,” Han admitted.
“Fewer blaster bolts hitting the walls, fewer repairs,” Leia said, nodding. “We could do it that way.”
“All right, Goldilocks.” Han clapped C-3PO on one shining shoulder, rocking the droid in place. “We’ll do it your way. This time.”
“You’re toying with me again, aren’t you, sir?” C-3PO’s sigh was audible.
Han nodded. “It’s more fun and less destructive than hanging meat around your neck and letting the war-dogs loose on you.”
“Humpf.” The droid turned back toward the door through which he’d entered. “Not very sporting, I must say.”
A chime filled the air—the delicate first five notes of “Path to the Sky,” a ballad from Leia’s homeworld of Alderaan.
Han heaved a sigh. “Not too late to change your mind. We could hold them off for days.”
Leia smiled at him. “Hush.”
First through that door were Luke Skywalker and Mara Jade Skywalker. For this occasion, Luke wore his black Jedi robe and accoutrements, a stark contrast to his still-fair complexion and bright blond hair. Mara wore more traditional Jedi robes in browns and tans, and a red belt that set off her red hair.
With them was R2-D2, the plug-shaped astromech who had variously served Luke and the Solos for decades, and the little droid made as many musical, wheetling noises of appreciation during their tour of the Solos’ new quarters as the humans made verbal comments.
Next to arrive, just a few minutes later, were Jacen and Ben. Led from room to room by C-3PO, Jacen made noncommittal noises about the antechamber, living chamber, master bedroom, bedrooms for Leia’s Noghri bodyguards Meewalh and Cakhmaim, guest bedrooms, library, refreshers, furnished balcony, kitchen, dining room, and communications center, all but the last decorated and furnished in warm-colored hardwoods, some with dark carpets and some with pebbled flooring. The communications center, where the majority of the household’s computers and electronics repair equipment was kept, was more modern, all steely surfaces and blue metal rolling racks.
Ben’s only comment was, “Where are the secret chambers?”
C-3PO stopped short and leaned awkwardly to look at the boy-man. “I don’t quite understand, young sir.”
“C’mon.” Ben grinned up at the droid—not far up, as he’d grown centimeters since the last time he’d seen the protocol droid. “Uncle Han is a smuggler. I bet this place is stuffed with secret chambers. They’ll all have blasters in them. Some of them will have identicards in fake names, and credcards, and secret electronics gear, and maybe a disassembled scoutspeeder. Some of them will be hidey-holes for the Noghri.”
C-3PO’s voice was stiff, even for the droid. “I can assure you, sir, that there are no secret chambers.”
“Aha!” Ben held up an accusative finger. He sounded as though he’d just found the essential clue to solve a murder. “I can assure you isn’t the same thing as There are no. C’mon, Threepio, say it. Say ‘There are no secret chambers.’”
“I can assure you, sir, that there—”
“Aha!”
The droid shot Jacen a look that, as far as Jacen could interpret droid body language, looked hurt. “I say, sir, must every generation of Solos and