Star Wars_ Legacy of the Force 04_ Exile - Aaron Allston [30]
“I couldn’t.” The words, heated, snapped out of him. “I was stranded on Tenupe for two years. And because of your actions, ignoring the consequences of freeing Lowbacca and what he did subsequently, I am now barred from my family forever. And that is the why.”
She gaped. The anger didn’t leave her face, but something in it changed. Jag supposed that she was offended either by his blaming her or by the fact that he had been punished for the action of others. “Yes,” he added, “the Jedi way preaches forgiveness, but that isn’t the Chiss approach. To the Chiss and my family, I am an unperson, and that’s forever. Don’t bother thinking about ways to correct the situation—it would be roughly as useful as worrying about painting out the laser damage your uncle left on the hull of the Death Star. Instead, worry about Alema Rar.”
Finally her mouth closed. It took her a few moments, but military discipline reasserted itself. “All right. Strategic planning.” At his gesture, she preceded him to the door back into the Temple hallways.
CORELLIAN EXCLUSION ZONE LOVE COMMANDER
“I feel,” Lando announced, “like an idiot.” He studied himself in the main display screen serving the captain’s chair on the Love Commander control cabin. Mounted on a swing-out arm so that it could be positioned directly before him or moved out of the way, it was now beside his chair and switched off. Reflective when not active, it showed him in his new guise, wearing a white beard and mustache, and a white wig with hair so long that the braid swinging from it would reach to his thighs when he stood.
“But you look magnificent,” Leia said.
“Oh, I know that. Not even the wig could downgrade me to ‘just startlingly handsome.’” Shrugging, Lando swung the display screen completely out of the way. He affixed Han with a stern stare. “Navigator, our heading?”
Han returned his glare. He’d had to go to a greater extreme to disguise himself. Without a beard, he looked like Han Solo; with one, he looked like his cousin, Thrackan Sal-Solo, the late Corellian President. So more significant efforts were called for. He’d sprayed all exposed areas of skin with a cosmetics compound that turned him a yellowish hue, and the spiky black halves of his false mustache, had they continued up to his nose, would have made a perfect chevron. “Same as it was five minutes ago, Captain,” he said. “Straight toward Corellia. Straight from Coruscant. Along the most heavily patrolled corridor through the exclusion zone.”
“Good, good.” Lando nodded benignly. “I’m glad you haven’t managed to foul up in five minutes.”
Han flexed his shoulder experimentally. He was recovered enough not to need the sling at most times, but still not in shape to handle piloting in extreme situations. “When I’m better, I’m going to throttle you.”
“Good, good.”
Leia smiled and turned back to her control board. She was the least dramatic looking of the three. Dressed in a dumpy brown jumpsuit padded here and there to make her less visually interesting to male observers, wearing makeup that diminished her beauty rather than enhancing it, her hair in a nondescript style and tucked up into her cap, she was unexceptional in every way.
Then, as her attention fell on the sensor screen, her eyes brightened. “We have an incoming blip. No telemetry yet, except that it’s bigger than a starfighter, smaller than a capital ship.”
“Good, good.”
“Stop saying that,” Han muttered.
“Here we go.” Leia patched the comm board through the overhead speakers.
“Incoming craft, this is Spinnerfish, Galactic Alliance Second Fleet. Cut your sublight engines and identify yourself immediately.” The voice was male, curt, an alto trying to force itself into the range of a baritone.
At Lando’s nod, Leia killed the ion thrusters. Lando swung out his display screen again and activated it.
Before him was the image of a young man, crisply attired in an Alliance Fleet lieutenant’s uniform. He was