Star Wars_ The New Jedi Order 04_ Agents of Chaos 01_ Hero's Trial - James Luceno [111]
Elan swung away from the hatch in dread, her lips pressed tightly together and her face a blotchy red. Staring at Han, she made a grab for him, but he sidestepped and tripped her in the process. Collapsing to her hands and knees, she threw a baleful look over her shoulder, cursing Han with every cell in her body, then inhaled hoarsely.
Her body went rigid. A sudden cough sent blood fountaining from her mouth. From eyes, ears, and nose it poured as she lifted her head and howled in anguish. Mouth twisted around the lifesaving inhaler, Han backed away, pressing himself to the curved wall and averting his gaze. Spots formed before his eyes, and he thought he might pass out. Then the spots began to precipitate and scurry madly around the pod.
The black residue of Elan’s toxic exhalation crawling all over him, he staggered for the hatch and hammered the release stud with the heel of his hand. Wild-eyed he hastened to the pod’s comlink, only to find it dead, owing perhaps to a Yuuzhan Vong projectile that had penetrated the Falcon’s weakened shields. He brushed frantically at the tiny life-forms and crushed dozens at a time with stomps of his feet.
A warning tone sounded from the survival tool. He was fast running out of air. Eyes bulging from his head, he slammed his fists against the padded hatch and porthole. He was down to recycling his last breath when the hatch suddenly irised open, and he pitched headfirst to the floor of the rear hold.
Gulping air, he looked up to see Droma standing over him.
“What made you come back here?” Han asked between breaths.
“A feeling,” Droma told him.
Han gestured weakly to the pod. “The bugs …”
Droma caught sight of Elan’s bloodied corpse and momentarily froze. Then he quickly resealed the hatch and began killing escapees with his hands and feet. Shortly, some of the few remaining critters began to expire on their own, transforming into featherweight husks.
Han propped himself against the bulkhead and wiped sweat from his forehead. “That’s two I owe you.”
“I’ll add it to your tab,” Droma said, panting.
A ship-rattling explosion brought Han fully alert. “Where’s Vergere?”
Droma glanced down the ring corridor and shook his head.
“Get back to the cockpit,” Han said. “I’ll find her.”
Another powerful strike sent the Falcon on edge, and out of the starboard ring corridor flew Elan’s familiar, crashing into Han just as he was getting to his feet. The collision sent him careening against the sealed escape pod and the hatch release stud. The hatch irised open once more and a few last critters leapt through the door and found purchase on the front of Han’s shirt. Stuttering a phobic cry, he whisked them away, then turned his attention to Vergere, who had planted herself in the center of the hold, arms at her sides and her reverse-articulated legs tensed for action.
“Don’t make this hard on yourself,” Han warned.
Another projectile found the ship, rocking it to its ribs. Droma’s voice wailed from an intercom annunciator in the bulkhead. “Han, you sure the Yuuzhan Vong don’t want them back? They’re being awfully convincing!”
Han kept his gaze on Vergere and adopted a combat stance. “They’re gonna have to settle for half,” he mumbled.
Vergere brought out her right hand to show Han a drinking bulb she had obviously grabbed from the galley. Squeezing the bulb, she suddenly brought it to her right eye as if to suction brimming tears.
Han hurled himself at her, but Vergere executed an agile leap that carried her out of reach, then another that front-flipped her straight into the escape pod. Han made a lunge for the pod, but an evasive maneuver by Droma set the ship on edge once more, and Han went sailing past the pod and a quarter of the way down the portside ring corridor. By the time he regained his balance and had stumbled back to the rear hold, Vergere was already arming the pod’s separator charges.