Star Wars_ Planet of Twilight - Barbara Hambly [94]
Leia returned to the computer. Every second she remained in this room increased the likelihood of encountering Dzym, or Liegeus, or Beldorion, but this might be the only chance she had. It was hard to know what else she might need. She ran a compressed print of a Corewide scan on the names she had overheard: Dymurra. Getelles. Reliant. When it was over she copied the information to a wafer, shoved both the wafer and the formidable sheaf of flimsiplast into the thigh pockets of her trousers, and replaced the plast in the printer with fresh so that it would not be obvious that some two hundred sheets had been printed out. Heart beating hard enough to sicken her, she closed her eyes again, probing at the stillness of the house.
She heard nothing, but she wasn’t sure if she was doing this right or not. If she’d had more training—if she’d concentrated more on it—could she have reached through this strange, heavy miasma of the Force to summon Luke?
That way lay despair, and she shook the thought away.
She studied her first printout of the wiring schematic again, identifying the lift shaft, the stairway that wound down its side. By overlaying the schematic of the backup systems, she could easily identify the room that contained both the CCIR terminal, and the main computer station: The room where she now stood.
Through that door. Down another flight of steps to a round reception area that contained nothing more important than an enormous light sculpture and a couple of artificial waterfalls. The lift doors opened there, as did the access hatch for the maintenance stairs.
She glanced over her shoulder at the wide transparisteel panels leading onto the terrace, aware of how secure the light made her feel, how safe. As she headed toward the reception area, the doors to the lift and the access stairs, she found herself hoping that the room would have transparisteel.
It didn’t. It was dark, save for the flamboyant rainbows of the light sculpture, whose colored patterns twinkled and flashed in the murmuring waterfalls, half-seen in the gloom. It stank of drochs and Hutt, and Leia dared not touch what she thought were the glow panels, for fear of activating something that would reveal to others where she was. Picking her way between the pale mushroom shapes of cushioned furniture years unused, by the dim reflections of the light sculpture, she thought, The stairs will be unlit.
She pulled her shirt out of the waistband of her trousers, fumbled underneath to untie the lightsaber from around her body. The cold laser blade didn’t give much light, but at least, she thought, it was better than groping downward in utter dark.
“True Jedi can see in the dark, barúm,” Beldorion had rumbled to her once a day or two ago, when he’d asked her to join him for lunch and a bask on the terrace—she no longer even remembered how the subject of Jedi powers had arisen. “They see not with their eyes—they see with their noses, with their ears, with the hairs of their head, and with their skins. You have neglected your training, little princess.” He’d shaken a tiny bejeweled finger at her. “They used to have us run races in the Caves of Masposhani, miles below the ground. Used to drop us on the dark sun worlds of Af’El and Y’nybeth, where there is no spectrum of visible light. But the great Jedi, the Masters—Yoda and Thon and Nomi Sunrider—they could summon light, could make metal glow so that their puny little friends wouldn’t stumble either. They’d hold a pin—so …” He’d reached one slimy hand to pluck a hairpin from her head, Leia flinching but too dazed with the drug to pull back.
The Hutt had held the pin between thumb and forefinger, vast ruby