Star Wars_ Legacy of the Force 04_ Exile - Aaron Allston [34]
The fur rippled on K’roylan’s snout, just for a moment. It could have been nothing more than an itch. Lumiya admired his self-control. As cold-blooded as the Bothans could be about such matters, K’roylan could well have lost friends to this spree of assassination, and probably had.
“Irrespective of your earlier statements about imagined Bothan military activity,” he said, “if these files turn out to be accurate, you will earn our thanks. They will be most useful when we prosecute the killer or killers.”
“You are welcome.” Lumiya gave him a nod, pure Hapan condescension. “Now I will go about other duties. The last file transmitted has information on how and when to reach me…should you need to.”
The Bothan opened his mouth to reply, but his hologram suddenly disappeared—Lumiya’s computer, primed to end the transmission when she made a specific statement, had done so.
Lumiya sagged in her chair. Her upright posture had put pressure on her abdomen, and it had been a drain through the second half of the conversation to keep the pain at bay. Now she could assume a more comfortable pose and concentrate on managing it.
But she didn’t have forever. The Bothans would check out her files, which would be verified. After all, she’d killed or arranged for the deaths of most of those Bothans—the details she had about those murders were accurate.
And the Bothans would accept her further help. They had to.
Now it was time to offer Jacen a little aid. “Transmit the Syo package to Coruscant and to Jacen,” she said.
“At once, Mistress.”
ELMAS PRIVATE SPACEPORT, CORONET, CORELLIA LOUNGE OF THE LOVE COMMANDER
The insertion onto Corellia had not been as difficult a task as Leia and the others had feared.
They’d maintained a high orbit near a cluster of Alliance vessels, nervously waiting for their intelligence authorization to be revealed as a fake, until they had detected a small task force forming up. It consisted of a sensor-heavy shuttle, several starfighters, and a couple of bombers—obviously intended to make one or more reconnaissance passes over the planet’s surface. Playing on their intelligence authorization, Han had commed in, requesting permission to accompany the task force down into the atmosphere.
“Sure,” had come the mission commander’s reply. “But if you get blown up, you can’t expect us to come back and pick up the pieces.”
So they had flown down at the tail end of the task force, had waited until a squadron of Corellian TIE fighters had fallen on the force, and had broken away, using terrain-following flying—as terrifying with Leia at the controls as it would have been with Han doing the honors—until they were well clear of the engagement zone and pursuit.
Now, hours later, they waited in a hangar that cost a fortune to rent but came with the scant protection offered by one smuggler when renting to another. Han’s old contacts continued to pay off—so long as Lando was willing to pay out.
They waited for nightfall and the covering darkness it would bring, as slight as that might be in the heart of the city, and reviewed recent news broadcasts.
One that was often cycled showed Wedge Antilles at his retirement announcement.
“He’d never retire at a time like this,” Leia said, “so he’s being forced out.”
Lando smoothed his false beard. “But is he being forced out because he didn’t approve of the attack on Tenel Ka, or because it was his plan and it failed?”
Han snorted. “He put his career on the line to retake Tralus with a minimum of casualties. That whole mess at Hapes couldn’t have been his plan. It didn’t work the way he thinks.”
“But he’ll know who was responsible,” Lando said. “I think we should ask him.”
Han and Leia exchanged a glance. “It may not be as easy as that,” Leia said. “We’ve already tried to reach him by comlink. All we got was a recorded message