Star Wars_ The Jedi Academy Trilogy 02_ Dark Apprentice - Kevin J. Anderson [76]
Music skirled out of the flute, rising and falling. She heard the flap of Vor wings over the sound of the notes and the wind. Qwi blinked nervously and looked up at her silent audience, but she kept playing.
From his position with the New Republic workers, Wedge came running over to see if she needed help. The other human engineers noticed the attention she had drawn.
As Wedge approached, breathless and wide-eyed, Qwi stopped playing. She took a deep breath and lowered her crystal flute.
Surrounding her, the Vors did not speak. They stared at her, fluttering their wings to keep their balance. Segmented, leathery armor covered their faces, masking any readable expressions. She couldn’t think of anything to say.
A large male Vor, obviously a clan leader of some kind, stepped forward and extended his hand to take the flute from her. Still nervous, Qwi placed the delicate instrument in his leathery palm.
With a sudden, violent gesture, the Vor squeezed his hand shut and crushed the flute. The thin crystal sides of the tube shattered. He opened his hand to let the fragments fall to the ground. Thin lines of blood blossomed on his palm.
“No more music,” he said. Her entire audience of Vors spread their wings and leaped into the winds, flying back over to the construction site.
The leader kept his gaze on her. “Not until we are finished here,” he said, and flew off to join the others.
Stuck in hyperspace, Han Solo could do nothing but wait. He couldn’t hurry the passage of time.
He paced around the common area, looking at the battered holographic game board and thinking of when he had first seen Artoo-Detoo playing with Chewbacca. That had been before he had even met Leia, when Luke Skywalker was a wet-behind-the-ears moisture farmer and Obi-Wan Kenobi was just a crazy old man. If he had known how his life would change after that day in the Mos Eisley cantina, Han wondered if he would have taken the risk to pick up two passengers and their droids bound for Alderaan.
But then he would never have met Leia. Never have married her. Never have fathered three children. Never have helped defeat the Empire. Yes, he thought: despite all the turmoil, Han would make the same choices all over again.
And now Leia was in great peril.
Lando came from the cockpit. “She’s on autopilot.” He looked at the dejected expression on Han’s face and shook his head. “Han, why don’t you rest? Let’s kill some time.” Then, as if the idea had just occurred to him, “How about we play a round of … sabacc?” Lando raised his eyebrows and flashed one of his famous grins.
Han wondered if his friend was just trying to cheer him up and decided to see how serious Lando really was. “I’m not interested in sabacc right now.” He sat down and lowered his voice. “I don’t suppose you’d put up my ship as a stake?”
Lando scowled. “It’s my ship, Han.”
Han leaned forward across the holographic chess table. “Not for long, buddy—or are you afraid?”
The Falcon shot through hyperspace on autopilot, oblivious to the fact that her ownership was being decided.
Tiny pearls of sweat tickled the back of Han’s neck as he stared at his cards. Lando, who prided himself on a perfect bluffing expression, showed concern and uneasiness. For the third time in as many minutes, he wiped a hand across his brow.
The scoring computer held them at ninety-four points each. The time now passed in a flash, and Han found himself so intent on the game that he had not thought about Leia’s desperate situation for at least fifteen seconds.
“How do I know you don’t have some trick programmed into these cards?” Lando said, staring at the aluminized plates but holding the displays out of Han’s line of sight.
“You suggested this game, buddy. These were my old cards, but you degaussed them yourself.