Star Wars_ The New Rebellion - Kristine Kathryn Rusch [141]
“Sir?” Yanne said.
Kueller ignored him. He was concentrating, not just on the visuals around him, but on his feelings. The dark side had its strengths. He knew that the fleet was uncertain about what it would find.
He smiled.
It would find nothing.
“Yanne.”
“Yes, milord?”
“Are my plans in place?”
“Of course, milord.”
“Then you can execute them. Now.”
Yanne hurried to comply with his order. Kueller rocked back on his heels, and patted the remote under his cape. If Yanne failed to follow orders, Kueller would do the deed himself. He had been telling the truth when he spoke to President Leia Organa Solo. He preferred elegant, refined weapons.
She would learn just how elegant, and how refined, shortly.
No one had taken anything off the Falcon, although the wedged-open doors, and a scorch mark from Han’s personally designed security system near the support, suggested that someone had tried. The Lady Luck wasn’t as fortunate. Most of its interior was gone, including some of the easy-to-remove hardware.
To say that Lando was furious was, in Han’s opinion, a bit of an understatement.
Han remained on the Lady Luck, repairing the engine systems with all the pieces he could find. The cockpit was already functional, but had lost all its fancy gadgetry. Lando and Chewbacca were searching Skip 1 for the rest of the equipment, and Lando’s missing droids. Han insisted that if they didn’t find enough materials to rebuild the Luck, they should leave within the day. He felt a sense of urgency he didn’t quite understand.
Blue had offered to help, but Han had turned her down. She had proven to be the most loyal of his old friends, but that no longer meant much. Perhaps Lando had been right. Perhaps they all had resented him. But he didn’t like recasting all those memories. They had been friends once. That time had simply passed. There was no going back, much as he wanted to.
And he wasn’t even sure he wanted to anymore. The longing for the good old days that came during moments of quiet on Coruscant seemed to be longing for romanticized versions of his past, not his real past.
Han had just reassembled the hyperdrive when the hair on the back of his neck rose. He grabbed it with his left hand, and a shudder ran down his spine. The feeling made him nervous. It was too close to the stuff Leia and Luke described about the Force. The stuff his children experienced but he never had.
Something had happened, was about to happen, could have happened. He crawled out of the maintenance tube and into the Luck’s stripped corridor.
Then a series of booms echoed throughout the Skip. The Luck rocked, and Han slid to the other side of the corridor. More explosions occurred, and still more. He lay still, his arms over his head, but nothing happened inside the Luck.
Nothing at all.
Just like the moment when the Senate Hall exploded. Only panic around him, and no injuries inside the casino.
But Leia had been injured.
Han pushed to his feet. “Chewie!” he shouted. “Lando?”
Of course, there was no reply. He had been alone in the Luck. He grabbed his blaster and let himself out the doors and walked—
—into a scene of devastation.
The Skip landing bay was in ruins. It looked as if someone had dropped a series of bombs from above. But the bay was a huge cavern carved in stone, and the ceiling hadn’t been touched. Whatever had happened, happened inside.
Small fires burned near many of the ships. A pile of exploded metal had welded itself onto the Falcon’s side, but no fire burned below her. Nothing burned near the Luck, either.
Smugglers lay on their sides, on their backs, body parts strewn all over. Several ships had holes in their sides the size of boulders, but those holes had been blown outward. Over the crackle of flames, Han could hear moaning and wailing from the survivors. Black, thick smoke was filling the bay, making it difficult to breathe.
He went back into the Luck and grabbed a