Star Wars_ The Jedi Academy_ Champions of the Force - Kevin J. Anderson [22]
“Droids can’t handle everything,” Mara said. “You’re going to need some people down there. Who will you get to run a miserable operation like that?”
“Miserable to humans maybe,” Lando said, locking his hands behind his back and sitting straight, “but not to some other species. In particular, I’ve got in mind an old friend of mine, Nien Nunb, who was my copilot on the Falcon during the Battle of Endor. He’s a Sullustan, a little creature who grew up living in tunnels and warrens on a tough volcanic world. He’d consider the spice mines a luxury resort!” Lando shrugged at Mara’s skeptical look. “Hey, I’ve worked with him before and I trust him.”
“Sounds like you’ve got most of the answers, Calrissian,” Mara said. “But so far it’s all just talk. When are you planning to go to Kessel and get to work?”
“Well, I lost my ship there. I’ve got to get back to Kessel to pick up the Lady Luck and start my operations.” He raised his eyebrows. “Say, you wouldn’t be willing to give me a lift to the system, would you?”
“No.” Mara Jade stood up. “I would not.”
“All right, then. Will you meet me on Kessel in one standard week? By then I should have a good feel for how things are going to go. We can lay down the foundation for a long and lasting relationship.” He smiled at her again.
“Business relationship,” she said, but not quite as sharply as she might have.
“You sure you won’t have dinner with me?” he asked.
“I’ve already eaten a ration bar,” she said, and turned to leave. “One standard week. I’ll see you on Kessel.” She turned and left.
Lando blew her a kiss, but she didn’t see him … which was probably a good thing.
At the keyboards the tentacled musician played a mournful tune of unreciprocated emotional resonances.
In the stuffy Council chambers Han Solo swallowed a lump in his throat before he addressed the gathered senators and generals and Mon Mothma herself.
“I don’t often talk to this”—he tried to think of the appropriate flowery language Leia would use in front of politicians—“this, um, august assemblage, but I need some information fast.”
Mon Mothma sat up weakly. Nearby a medical droid tended the silent monitoring and life-support systems attached to the Chief of State’s body. Her skin looked grayish, as if it had already died and was waiting to fall off her bones. As she declined, she had given up all pretense of hiding her failing health.
According to Leia, Mon Mothma had only a few weeks to live with her strange, debilitating disease. Seeing the woman now, though, Han wouldn’t have laid odds she would survive even that long.
“What exactly,” Mon Mothma began—then paused to heave a deep breath—“do you need to know, General Solo?”
Han swallowed again. He couldn’t hide the truth, though he hated to admit it. “Kyp Durron was my friend, but he went wrong somehow. He attacked Luke Skywalker. He took the Sun Crusher and blew up the Cauldron Nebula to destroy Admiral Daala’s fleet. Leia and all the Jedi trainees on Yavin just experienced what they called ‘a great disturbance in the Force,’ and she’s convinced that Kyp might have done something else.”
General Rieekan spoke in his gruff voice, looking at Han with weary eyes. Rieekan had been the commander of Echo Base on Hoth, and he had seen many hard times. “Our scouts have just come back, General Solo. Your friend did use the Sun Crusher again. He destroyed the Caridan star system, site of the Imperial military academy.”
Han felt his throat go dry, though the news was no great surprise, considering how much Kyp hated the Empire.
“This slaughter must stop. It goes beyond even the Emperor’s atrocities,” the aging tactician, General Jan Dodonna, said. “The New Republic does not employ such barbarous tactics.”
“Well, he does!” interrupted Garm Bel-Iblis. “And he has obliterated two crucial Imperial targets. While we may not agree with Durron’s methods,