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A cylindrical arm extended from Artoo’s left side, the side away from the Kloperian.

“I will certainly inform Master Luke,” Threepio said. “This little R2 unit has been trouble from the day he bought it.”

“They all have,” the Kloperian said. “Now you two get out of here before I take you out myself.”

“Yes, sir! Come along, Artoo.”

Artoo’s arm slid back into its compartment. He put his third wheel down and rolled toward the exit.

“Thank you, sir, for showing us the X-wing,” Threepio said as he scurried after Artoo. “I will most certainly speak to our master about you—”

And then he stopped as the bay doors closed behind them. Artoo let out a long, pitiful wail.

“I think you’re overreacting, Artoo. The X-wing isn’t dead. It’s merely disassembled.” Threepio hurried down the corridor.

Artoo beeped as he kept up.

“Erase its memory? But Master Luke gave specific instructions that the X-wing’s memory shouldn’t be touched.”

Artoo bleeped an affirmative.

“But that doesn’t mean there’s a conspiracy, Artoo. Organic beings are subject to error.”

Artoo whistled and shrilled.

“Very well, then,” Threepio said. “You can believe what you want. But you’ll tell Master Luke yourself. I’ll have no part in such flights of fancy.”

Artoo grunted.

“Still,” Threepio said as they left the hangar and entered the upper level of the docking bay, “I will inform Mistress Leia of that being’s attitude. If we were imprisoned over such a trivial thing, imagine what would happen to droids with less important owners. It’s a disgrace. Such a thing should not be allowed on Coruscant.”

Artoo blurbled.

“I am not thinking about myself,” Threepio said. “If I were thinking of myself, would I have mentioned other droids?”

Leia’s long hair flowed down her back. She was brushing it steadily, her newly healed hands looking perfect in the soft light. The last dip in the bacta tank had done it. She would be fine.

Han sat on the edge of their bed, wishing she would face him. She had picked up her brush the moment the conversation had grown serious.

“Look, sweetheart, I’m only asking for a week.”

“We’re in the middle of a crisis, here, Han.” She hadn’t missed a stroke. “And you want to go off and play with the boys.”

“I don’t want to play, Leia. I think Jarril came to me for a reason.”

“I’m sure he did. From what you said about the conversation, he couldn’t understand what happened to Han Solo, gadabout adventurer.”

Han pushed off the bed. “I think Jarril’s visit is connected to all this.”

“And I don’t.”

He crouched beside her. She stopped brushing her hair, and placed both hands in her lap. The scratches were gone from her face, but she still looked drawn and pale.

He put his hands over hers. Her skin was cold and she was shaking. Time for honesty. For both of them.

“Leia,” he said, “I’m useless here.”

“Not useless,” she said, looking at his hands protecting hers. “You’re never useless, Han.”

He put his head against her shoulder, felt the silky smoothness of her hair against his forehead, smelled her faint perfume. He didn’t know how to explain something she usually understood. He was a man of action. He needed to act.

Then she sighed. “You want to contribute.”

He nodded.

“And there’s nothing you can do on Coruscant.”

He sat back on his heels. He was squeezing her hands tightly. The bristles of her brush dug into his fingertips. “I’ve already done what I can do, Leia. I’ve followed Jarril’s trail. He left with the last wave of ships in all the confusion. Then escaped when the shields went down for Luke to enter. Jarril apparently talked to no one but me. He didn’t even have any friends here except me.”

“He might have had nothing to do with the attack.”

Han nodded. “I know. In that case, the investigators you’ve assigned are following all the possible leads.”

“What if there’s another attack, Han?”

“It hasn’t come. I’ve been waiting for days but it hasn’t come.”

“That’s strange, isn’t it?” Leia said. “I’ve been thinking it’s very strange.”

“So have I.”

She smiled at him then,