Star Wars_ The New Rebellion - Kristine Kathryn Rusch [51]
“Send him in,” she said.
She left the bedroom and went into the living suite. Lando’s practiced flirtations were, for the most part, a thing of the past, but Leia scrupulously avoided any situation that would give him an excuse to flirt with her.
The main area of the living suite had been redecorated on Jacen’s whim. He had complained that none of the chairs was comfortable—something Han had agreed with—and the two of them scoured the Imperial Palace for more suitable seating. Now none of it matched (Comfort is more important than looks, Mom), but it was all well-used. While she waited for Lando, Leia stood in front of the puce couch that Winter mercifully had covered with a white duvet.
He burst through the door and glanced around, almost as if he didn’t see her.
“Where’s Han?”
No “Hello, Leia, how’s the galaxy’s most talented princess?”; no “You’re looking beautiful today.” If she hadn’t seen that expression before, she would have thought this Lando was an impostor.
“He’s not on Coruscant. Can I help you, Lando?”
Lando shook his head. “We’ve got to find him, Leia. It’s critical.”
A frisson of fear ran along her spine. “Tell me, Lando.”
“I’ve been trying to reach you for days.”
“The communications array has been overloaded since the bombing.”
“I know.” Lando put his hands behind his back and paced the room. His expression was as dark as it had been in the carbon-freezing chamber that horrible, horrible day when Han had nearly died, and Lando learned that Vader had betrayed him. “Where’s Han?”
“You tell me what the problem is first.”
He stopped pacing, and glanced at a painting Jaina had done when she was two. Even though he was staring at it, he didn’t seem to be seeing it. “I found a smuggler’s ship that belonged to an old colleague of ours. It was abandoned, and had clearly been sabotaged. The smuggler was in it. He’d been slaughtered.”
The fear that had run along Leia’s back had moved to her stomach.
“He had just come from Coruscant. And when I checked his logs, I found these messages.”
Lando gave her a small hand-held computer. She tilted it toward the light.
CARGO DELIVERED. FIREWORKS SPECTACULAR.
SOLO KNOWS. WE CAN COUNT ON HIS INVOLVEMENT.
She handed the computer back, careful not to show her sudden shakiness. “Whose ship did you find this on?”
“A smuggler named Jarril. Did you know him?”
“Han left a few days ago looking for him.” Leia sank into the puce couch, letting its softness enfold her. “Why do you think this is an emergency, Lando?”
“Jarril was killed because of this message, and Han is mentioned.”
“You think Han might be next?”
“What do you think, Leia?”
“I’m concerned about the ‘fireworks.’ ”
“Han would never be involved in something like that.”
She lifted her gaze to Lando’s. He thought “fireworks” related to the bomb, then, too. “I know that,” she said. “But maybe Jarril didn’t.”
“Jarril knew Han. Everyone did. His ethics were a subject of bitter complaint among the smugglers. He got more of us into trouble because of his conscience than anyone would like to admit.”
“And saved more of you because of it, too.” She bit her lower lip while she thought. “Han thought Jarril was connected to the bombing. He was right.”
“Han’s hunches are usually good.”
She nodded. And she hadn’t believed him. Jarril, though, was dead. A pawn, nothing more. Like Han? “That second message is really unclear,” she said. Subtle, even. “What if it signals the opening of a trap?”
“That’s what I figure. Jarril wasn’t exactly left in a busy area of space. No one was supposed to see that message. In fact, it had been deleted. If I hadn’t known his ship’s codes, we wouldn’t know this at all.”
“Where was it sent?”
“A place called Almania. Have you heard of it?”
Leia shook her head.
“It’s on the farthest reaches of the galaxy. It makes Tatooine look close. It’s so far out that neither the