Jaina dived through the hole, rolled to her feet, and ran an additional twenty meters to the nearest set of turbolift doors. There were no people in this curved section of corridor; if there had been any, the sight of her lightsaber blade cutting its way through the doors had convinced them to flee.
She experimentally tapped the turbolift’s access button, but the status display overhead gave no indication that it had accepted the command. Of course it hadn’t. Security would have closed down all turbolifts except to those with priority access. But it sometimes paid to try the simple approaches. And Bandy and Seha might be able to turn turbolift control over to the Jedi, but that wasn’t their top priority; it might happen too late to be useful here.
She popped the protective hatch free from the lift’s control panel and patched in a datapad. It was an ordinary ’pad, but the program running on this one sent queries to the Jedi command center at the false Kuati offices, requesting data from the hardware modules Octa, Kyp, and others had piggybacked into the building’s security systems. If this worked, it would be faster and less destructive than cutting another hole—
The turbolift door slid open. A split second later a lift car roared past, hurtling by on an upward course, the wind displaced by its passage nearly blowing Jaina over. Its inner doors were closed, so there was no split-second view of surprised lift occupants to see.
She yanked the datapad free. “Ready to go!”
Moments later Corran hurtled through the hole Jaina had cut in the blast doors, his lightsaber blade gleaming with purple light. He sprinted in her direction. An instant after that Saba leapt through and immediately rolled to the side, avoiding a barrage of blaster bolts pursuing her like angry flying insects. The bolts hit the corridor’s permacrete floor, some of them burning themselves out of existence, a few ricocheting up to hit the corridor wall far past Jaina.
The two Masters joined her, and together they peered down into the turbolift shaft.
It was actually three shafts, no separations among them. Theirs, the central one, showed no car below; the car that had passed Jaina was stopped some twenty stories up. To the left, no car was visible in either direction. To the right, a car was descending from far above.
Jaina glanced back at the blast doors. At best, they had another ten seconds before the first, bravest, of the pursuing troopers would poke a head through and start shooting. From that point, the Jedi would once again be deflecting blaster bolts and would have to continue to do so until a suitable lift car came.
Somewhere else in the building, closer to the delegation offices than to the hangars, Tionne, Kam, Zekk, and Taryn would be doing exactly the same thing. That team had a different destination.
The car in the right-hand shaft roared down past them. Jaina saw it stop with startling suddenness four stories down.
The three Jedi jumped.
It was a fifteen-meter fall, but a touch of the Force allowed each of the experienced Jedi to land painlessly and gracefully atop the car.
The car got under way again, hurtling upward, its acceleration so great that Jaina and Corran were forced to their knees. Saba stayed upright, her legs and tail forming a triangle of support.
In moments the car stopped again with a turbolift’s typical suddenness. These cars, equipped with interior inertial compensators, could do so without turning their occupants into broken-limbed jelly. On top, though, the three Jedi were propelled upward as if fired from a spring-loaded cannon at a carnival.
They flew up an additional two stories, then pushed a little with the Force and drifted a meter laterally to land on the centimeters-wide ledge at the base of another set of doors.
Corran glanced at the numbers stenciled on the inside of the door. “This is a chamber level. We’re good … if that car doesn’t come up and smash us flat. Give me some room.” He ignited his lightsaber.
Jaina and Saba drew to either side, holding on to narrow grooves and durasteel plate joins on the wall, as Corran cut a way out through the doors.
The turbolift car below descended. A lift in the far-left shaft roared by from above.
Another one, far above in this shaft, became visible in a rapid descent. Saba hissed something unpleasant-sounding, activated her lightsaber, and joined Corran in cutting the hole. In moments, their blades met, buzzing and sparking.
Jaina dived at the circular plate they’d marked. Despite her comparatively light weight, she knocked the plate free and fell atop it on the corridor floor beyond. As she rolled to her feet, her shoulder grazed the superheated edge of the metal. Even with the protective virtues of her lightly armored robe, she felt the sudden sting of injury.
She came up on her feet. Ahead, just a few meters away, stood a row of security troopers aiming blaster rifles—
With no time to ignite her lightsaber, she dodged left, drawing their fire away from the hole. Bolts tracked her, smacking and sizzling into the wall and the other turbolift door now behind her.
Beyond the troopers, Jaina could see a low archway leading to a large, well-lit chamber beyond. The Senate chamber—
In her peripheral vision, she saw Saba leap through the turbolift hole, then Corran. A turbolift car descended so close to his emergence that his cloak was snapped from his body, jerking his head back before the clasp broke, slamming him back into the turbolift door.
Saba caught the next volley of blaster bolts as Jaina activated her lightsaber. Jaina spared a glance for Corran, but he waved her off, shaking his head. He rubbed his neck. Below his beard, an ugly welt was already beginning to rise.
Together the three Jedi charged the troopers.
“Wynn, what the hell—”
In Daala’s monitor, her Chief of Staff looked haggard, as if he’d been working without rest or food for days, even though she’d seen him recently. He gave her a look of disbelief. “All indications, Admiral, are that we’re under assault by the Yuuzhan Vong.”
“Not possible.”
“I know.”
With an infuriated noise, half scream and half gargle, Daala switched the monitor back to the desk of her secretary.
The Bothan was still gone. But in his place sat Han Solo.
“Solo! What’s going on out there?”
Han shrugged. “Your secretary served some snacks. Bug eggs on crackers, I think. Leia and I didn’t have any but everyone else did. Then they all started running off for the refresher. Except the Hapan ambassador. She didn’t make it in time and kind of disgraced herself. Your secretary ate the most of all and he passed right out.” He looked down, apparently to where the secretary lay off-cam. “His fur is turning gray and curling at the ends. You might want to come out and give it a look.”
Without answering, Daala switched to a data feed. She rose. “It’s a Jedi assault. We’re leaving.” When she turned to face her back wall, she was pleased to note that the two navy officers already had their blasters in hand, ready to defend this chamber.
Parova stood, too. “You have a way out?”
“Of course.” From a pocket, Daala fished out her comlink and spoke into the device. “Emergency override zeta thirteen.”
A section of wall the height and width of a Gamorrean wrestler, unmarked by crease or line, suddenly withdrew a full meter.
Daala moved toward it. Then her body jolted as energy flooded through her.
She’d felt it before, years ago, in training and in combat—a stun bolt. Her vision contracted in an instant to gray nothingness.
Her last thought, before she hit the floor, before consciousness escaped her entirely, was: How did they get in without me hearing them?
Leia’s voice was filled with scorn. “ ‘You might want to come out and give it a look’?” She fired another full-strength blaster bolt into Daala’s door, deepening the crater where she thought the locking mechanism must be. She desperately missed her lightsaber, but she could not have managed to bring it through the security check.
Han shrugged. “If it had worked, history would hav
e said it was genius.”
“Well … you’re probably right.” She fired again. The hole deepened another centimeter. The foam lining the interior of the door was already on fire. The smoke issuing from it stank with a sharpness that made Leia think of poisonous fumes.
“Besides, we learned something. She didn’t ask about you shooting her door. Means it’s so well sound-insulated that she didn’t know you were doing it.” Han kept his own blaster pointed in the general direction of the prisoners and the door out into the exterior hall. He thought he could hear blasterfire from beyond it, distant blasterfire. That probably meant the Jedi were coming. It also probably meant there were Senate Building defenders between the Jedi and this office, which could be problematic.
The Hapan ambassador, a woman of middle years with looks normally only found in very costly holodramas, glared at him. “I did not disgrace myself.”
“Of course you didn’t, sweetheart. But you still can, you know.” Han reached down and hauled the Bothan secretary to a sitting position. “All right, last chance. Open that door or I shave you, dip you in gold paint, and sell you to Jawas for spare parts.”
The Bothan winced. “I’m not a droid.”
“I’ll sell you to especially stupid Jawas.”
The Bothan shook his head. “Forgive me, General. But I won’t help you, and you won’t sell me. You’re a hero of the Alliance.”
Han made a disgusted noise and let the secretary drop. “Leia, I swear, I hate having a good reputation. I hate it.”
Not answering, Leia fired again.
The blasterfire outside was growing louder, closer. Han glared at the prisoners. “Drag that sofa over against the wall and get behind it.” He glowered down at the Bothan. “You, too.”
“Thank you, sir. I knew you were one of the good—”
“Shut up.”
The prisoners had dragged the sofa and a couple of tables into place and were huddling behind them when the exterior door slid open. A pair of armored security troopers backed into the office, firing at targets outside.
Han aimed, careful and deliberate, at the neck of the nearer trooper. There was no armor there. He squeezed off a shot. That trooper uttered a grunt of pain and fell forward, out of sight.
The other one turned, swinging his weapon into line. Han fired again, catching him just below the bottom rim of his armor. That trooper collapsed, falling sideways into the office. The door closed.
The Bothan peered out from the sofa. “Shall I bring you their firearms?”
“Shall I shoot you in the face?”
“No, sir. Thank you, sir.” The Bothan ducked behind the sofa again.
Han cautiously moved forward until he was within reach of the fallen trooper. He holstered his blaster pistol as fast as he normally drew it—
Tried to, actually. This wasn’t his pistol and there was no holster there. Unthinking, he dropped the pistol to the carpet.
He growled a Wookiee curse, hoping Leia hadn’t seen his mistake, and snatched up the trooper’s rifle and switched it over to stun. “Leia …”
“Quiet, Han. This isn’t working.”
The exterior door slid open again. Han saw a wall of armored backs edging his way. He opened fire, spraying stun bolts among them. Troopers fell as if hit by a single giant hammer. The door slid closed again.
“Got that, Fuzzy? I just shot a bunch of troopers in the back. Would a hero of the Alliance do that?”
The Bothan didn’t peer out, and his voice was muffled by the intervening sofa. “I bet you used stun bolts.”
Han growled.
“Han, switch with me.”
He did, clicking the rifle back to blasterfire. He spun and took a sideways step to be outside the direct line of fire from the exterior door, then opened fire on the interior. His blaster bolts chipped away at the crater Leia had made, filling the air with more smoke and burning insulation debris.
He heard the exterior door slide open again, heard Leia fire four times in quick succession. The door slid shut.
As the smoke drifted away from the interior door, moved by the room’s air-conditioning, Han could see light through the hole he’d shot in his target. “We’re through.”
“Opening it.” Leia moved up beside him and waved with her free hand. Han switched back to stun bolts.
This was the most dangerous moment, with both of them concentrating their attention on the interior door. Han’s sense of timing said the troopers outside would spend a few seconds communicating their next plan of attack, then charge. But that gave him and Leia seconds to act—forever, to a cagy old smuggler and a Jedi.
With Leia’s exertion through the Force, Daala’s inner door slid up.
Two blurs in blue leapt out, firing blaster pistols. Han cut loose, traversing his aim across the two of them. A bolt passed between him and Leia, and it was not a stun bolt. Another hit the carpet just in front of his foot. Han felt the heat of it through his boot and jerked his foot back.
Both males, one Falleen and one human, wearing naval uniforms, hit the carpet, unconscious. Han maintained his fire through the door, spraying the office interior, though no targets were immediately in sight.
A moment later he heard a shout, a woman’s voice strong enough to be heard above the blasterfire, from within: “Hold your fire! We surrender!”
Leia spun, covering the outer door again, but she kept her free hand up, clearly holding the interior door open.
Han left off firing but did not lower his weapon. “Show yourself.”
Admiral Parova appeared in the doorway, her hands in the air. “Admiral Daala is down. You hit her with that last volley.”
Han heard the exterior door slide open … and Leia did not fire.
He hazarded a look over his shoulder. Now entering the room were Masters Kam and Tionne.
Han returned his attention to Parova. “Take me to your leader. We come in peace.”
“Han.”
“Sorry, Leia. Sometimes I can’t help myself.”
Behind him, he heard the Hapan ambassador speak up. “Master Solusar, I did not disgrace myself.”
TREEN WATCHED THE THREE JEDI ASCENDING THE SENATE CHAMBER, leaping from platform to platform in a pattern that looked as random and graceful as a waterfall in reverse. The Senator had heard a few blaster shots before they’d entered the chamber, and she wondered if any members of the security detail guarding that entrance had been maimed or killed.
But it was only an idle curiosity. She had things to do.
With a little jerk of her head, she indicated that her aides should step off the platform and into its small access passageway. When they did, she stepped into place at the controls. Switching over to manual, she activated the platform’s repulsorlifts and set it into motion, detaching it from its docking brackets and sending it floating out into the open air above the chamber proper. Above and below her, other Senators were doing the opposite—those who had been floating here or there on missions of discussion or collaboration were now scurrying back to the safety of their docks.
She maneuvered the platform so that it was above the ascending Jedi. Jaina Solo was in the lead, but in a moment she was overtaken by the reptilian Jedi Master, Saba Sebatyne.
None of the Jedi had their lightsabers switched on. To Treen, that was a good sign. And no other Senators were in the process of moving to intercept them, another good sign.
As Master Sebatyne came near, reaching an altitude of only one platform level down from Treen’s position, Treen extended a hand and beckoned with a crooked finger. Master Sebatyne glanced her way and, after another bound up one level, leapt laterally, landing beside Treen, her weight causing the platform to dip a few centimeters.
The Barabel Jedi wore a look Treen interpreted as curiosity. “This one has only a moment.”
“You may wish to take a moment more,” Treen replied. “I’ll conduct you up. I assume you’re headed to the main speaker’s area?”
“Yes.”
&
nbsp; Treen set her platform into a climb, sending it toward Senator Rockbender’s location. “What has happened?”
“We have deposed Chief of State Daala.”
“Ah. About time.” Though Treen felt as though she had just been stepped on and smashed flat by a rancor, she was proud of herself for keeping her voice impeccably untroubled. “Are you also suspending the Senate?”
“No. There is no danger to the Senatorz or their role. We simply are assuming the functionz of the executive branch for now.”
Treen kept her face impassive as her mind raced. She was momentarily unbalanced when Jaina Solo landed beside her and the ascending platform dipped again.
“You already have Chief Daala in custody?” Treen asked.
Master Sebatyne nodded. “We do.”
Jaina glanced over the side, watching the ascent of Corran Horn. “She’s in the hands of my parents. And the Masters Solusar, and others.”
“You’re facing a bloodbath, you know. A small force like the Jedi Order, as capable as its individual members are, cannot hope to hold the government against the combined might of the armed forces and the will of the people.”
“This one and all of the Jedi Council hope that we act with the will of the people,” Master Sebatyne said.
The crude outlines of a plan clicked into place in Treen’s mind.
She’d have to act on her own initiative. There was no time to run her idea past the committee. This would cause trouble, especially with the military contingent.
Too bad for them.
“Your action meets with my approval, Master Sebatyne. And the approval of others. If you could make me certain guarantees, I might be able to offer you the support not only of some key Senators … but also of the majority of the chiefs of the armed forces, all of whom have recently been chafing under Daala’s irrational rule.”
“Please, slow your ascent, Senator Treen,” the Barabel said.
Treen did. A moment later the increasingly crowded platform swayed again as Corran Horn leapt on to join the others.
Treen spent the next several minutes on her comlink, the special one with scrambler functions, only occasionally tuning in to the speech Master Sebatyne was presenting mere meters from her.
Star Wars: Fate of the Jedi: Conviction Page 20
