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Han frowned, picturing droids on attack, firing weapons. But that made no sense. It wasn’t possible. He had fought beside droids before, and while they were clever, they never turned on their masters.

Ever.

“What are you looking for?” he asked.

“My mate,” the Ssty said.

Han felt his heart stop for a moment, remembering Leia in the bombed-out wreck of the Senate building, that horrible feeling he had had as he ran there, that feeling that he had just lost the most important thing in his life. Without hesitating, he dug into the hot metal, wincing as it burned his fingers, pulling pieces away that the Ssty wasn’t strong enough to lift. “The droids attacked us?”

“They—” the Ssty’s voice broke. “They exploded.”

All those pops, those explosions, were droids. “All the droids?”

“Some of them.” The Ssty was digging faster. “Enough.”

Han pulled a huge chunk of metal away. Beneath it was another Ssty, arms over its head, claws extended.

Eyes open.

With a yowl, the Ssty pulled its mate free. The lower half of its body was crushed flat. It was clearly dead.

“I’m sorry,” Han said. The words were not enough, and the Ssty didn’t hear him. Its yowls had risen to blend with the other cries, and the blue stuff was staining its white fur. It kept brushing the hair away from its mate’s lifeless eyes, and rocking, as if the motion would bring the mate back.

Han backed away, unable to watch the little creature’s pain. The droids exploded. And the bombed interior looked like the Senate Hall.

All those senators with their protocol droids, their translator droids, their assistant droids. Several explosions at once would feel like one big assault.

And leave no trace, because the sources of the bombs would be destroyed along with the bombs themselves.

He made his way toward the Falcon, not quite able to think. No medical droids. So they would have to rely on whatever medical talent was on the Run. No one would come here to help. No one would be able to navigate the entrance without a map.

What a disaster.

“Han!”

The voice was reassuringly familiar. At the base of the Falcon’s ramp, Lando stood with Chewbacca. Lando’s shirt was singed, and the fur on Chewbacca’s chest was nearly gone, but they were all right.

Han had never been so glad to see anyone in his life. “I thought you were dead,” he said.

“We thought the same about you.”

“What are we going to do?”

Lando shook his head. “There are a few ancient FX-7’s around, but they’re already overworked. And most of the medical personnel were killed when their new medical droids exploded.”

Chewbacca growled.

“I thought of the same thing, Chewie,” Han said. “This is exactly what happened on Coruscant, but somehow they kept it isolated to one building. I don’t know how they thought to target the Run.”

“They didn’t,” Lando said. “Most of the droids here are stolen.”

Han felt cold. “You mean this attack was meant for someone else?”

“Probably,” Lando said.

Han didn’t want to think about that. Not now. The cries had grown as the smoke cleared. Blue had worked her way closer to the Falcon. Her face was streaked with tears. Her eyes were glazed. She appeared to be working by rote.

“Listen,” Han said. “I think we should set up the Lady Luck as a medical facility. It’s nearly empty, so there’s lots of room, and we can fly the most seriously wounded off the Run.”

“Who’s going to help smugglers?” Lando asked.

“Someone will,” Han said. “I’ll make sure of that. I think we need to coordinate this kind of effort with all the undamaged ships. We don’t have the facilities on the Run to deal with this kind of tragedy.”

“But the Luck—” Lando said.

“Is going to need refurbishing anyway,” Han said. “I’m sure most of the stolen equipment is now no longer in prime condition.”

Lando nodded. He appeared beyond exhaustion. “I’ll get her ready,” he said.

“Thanks,” Han said. He silently urged Chewie to go along with Lando, and then turned toward Blue.

She was gone.

He took a breath, unable to see her. He hoped she hadn’t collapsed when he wasn’t looking.