FRIGATE RAKEHELL, MAIN HANGAR BAY
JAVON THEWLES SAT, UNCOMFORTABLE, IN THE LIGHTWEIGHT METAL-TUBING chair and listened to what Leia Organa Solo had to tell him.
He was uncomfortable for a variety of reasons.
First, he was sitting in a chair meant to endure the elements of sun and rain beside a swimming pool and occasionally hold swimsuited frolickers off the permacrete, while he was a full-grown man in black body armor styled like that of Galactic Alliance troopers but lacking unit or rank insignia. The chair sagged under his weight and threatened at any moment to buckle and send him to the metal deck of the hangar bay.
Second, he was talking to Leia Organa Solo. He’d been on guard detail for a number of famous people in his GA Security career, but none had ever said anything to him other than a brief greeting. And mere meters away was the Millennium Falcon. Somewhere atop it, the equally famous Han Solo was laboring on an antenna array. Javon couldn’t see him, but the occasional outbursts of complaint or cursing gave Han’s location away. Now a metal tool rang off the metal decking, bounced, and clanked to a halt, followed by Han’s shout: “Amelia, get that for me, would you?”
Third, there was the task Javon was being assigned.
He cleared his throat to give himself another second to think. “I’m to be a babysitter?”
Leia nodded. “For all practical purposes, yes. Is that a problem? Beneath your dignity?”
“Nothing like that. Security is security, and people who need protection need it regardless of their ages. But I’ve never protected a child before. I’m not sure I’m competent for the task.”
Leia gave him an understanding look. “The first thing to remember, which is a real help, is that you generally don’t have to tell them to duck when you’re firing over their heads.”
“That was … a joke?”
“A little one, yes.”
“Oh, good. Um, this is not offered as a criticism, I’m genuinely curious … and a little confused. You’re bringing a child into an armed camp, an ad hoc settlement where security is going to be handled by several incompatible units varying from freedom fighters to, it seems, terrorists, to self-aggrandizing warriors, none of whom have any consideration for the safety of a little girl …”
“It’s not an ideal situation, correct.” For a moment, Leia sounded very weary indeed. “I can’t really think of a point in time in the last forty-five years that could be described as an ideal situation.” She resumed an expression of good humor. “But things aren’t necessarily any safer on Coruscant. If I were there, given my history, I’d be helping with the affairs of the Chief of State’s office, which would potentially bring Amelia into harm’s way. So Klatooine may actually be safer. Usually we have a Jedi and an associated security expert hovering near Amelia and providing protection—don’t tell her that—”
“No worries.”
“—but given the recent government crisis and other situations abroad in the galaxy, we’re stretched too thin. So when Seha Dorvald said that our actions had cost a promising and diligent young security lieutenant his job, maybe his career, I thought you’d be a good choice to head up an interim security detail.”
“I intend to be. I just wanted to express reservations. About my own lack of experience in one area. I mean, I don’t know what to do if she starts crying.”
Leia laughed. “It takes a lot to make her cry. I suggest you empty a blaster rifle clip in the direction of whatever made her cry.”
“That’s reassuring …”
“Seha also said you had a theory about the charges made against her.”
“Well …” Javon moved effortlessly from one discomfort to a new one, not entirely at ease discussing a theory so obviously in need of fact checking and elaboration. “It’s just that I have the sense that the poisoning of Moff Lecersen, Senator Bramsin, and General Jaxton, and the placement of a poison container in the Senate Building, was part of a specific effort to discredit Galactic Alliance Security. After the coup, I thought that maybe—forgive me for this—it was part of the Jedi plan, since the sudden interference by Fleet Intelligence was clearly very helpful to the Jedi in causing chaos in the Senate Building and allowing them freedom of movement. But Seha has said that the Jedi weren’t involved, and I believe her, which leaves the poisoners and their motives a mystery.”
Leia considered that. “So you think there’s a player on the board, unidentified, who wanted to remove the piece representing security. An unknown player with an unknown motive.”
Javon nodded. “But chiefly, I’m always suspicious of loose ends, and the poisoning is a loose end.”
“Do any of your friends in security have opinions? And what about the news media?”
Javon shook his head. “The charges against Seha were dropped, so everyone is assuming that it was part of the Jedi plot. The denial issued by the Jedi sounds like every other denial issued by every other defendant since time began, so no one’s convinced.”
“If you have any more thoughts on this, I’d like to hear them.”
“Thank you.” Realizing that the interview was at an end, Javon stood. “I’ll brief the rest of the security detail.”
They came out of hyperspace not long after, outside the interfering range of Klatooine’s gravity well. The planet, a mostly tan sphere, unlovely, appeared on monitors all over the frigate.
In the cockpit of the Falcon, Han glanced at the same image on his own monitor as he went through his preflight checklist. “Looks like Tatooine.”
Leia settled into the copilot’s seat. “You sound cheerful about that.”
“I have good memories of Tatooine. Met a nice guy there. Got a wife out of the deal a few years later.” He paused. “Maybe there’s another wife waiting for me here.”
Leia gave him a mock glower. “Be careful what you wish for.”
There was a little-girl chuckle from the passenger seat behind Leia. She turned to look. Allana, all fresh-scrubbed and deceptive innocence, sat there listening to the exchange, her nexu, Anji, sitting contentedly by her side.
Han craned his neck to give Allana a glance. “What’s funny, kiddo?”
“You. You don’t want two wives.”
“Why not?”
“ ’Cause I don’t need two grandmas, and you don’t need two ladies telling you what to do.”
Han gave Leia a look of profound hurt and turned back to his checklist. “Yes, she’s definitely inherited that Organa mouth.”
Leia smiled at her granddaughter—smirked, rather. “Well done, Allana. Now, since I’ll be doing negotiations with the freedom fighters and your grandfather will be out hunting for a new wife, you’ll have Artoo and Threepio to keep you company.”
“Oh.” This time Allana’s tone was decidedly less enthusiastic. “Threepio’s so fussy.”
Leia’s smile broadened. “Even fussier than Grandpa?”
“A little.”
“Well, learning to deal with fussy people is a big part of what we do. Solos and Jedi and …” Leia glanced around to make sure C-3PO was not in hearing range. “And your mother’s family. So you might as well get used to it.”
On the monitor, Klatooine grew steadily larger and better-defined.
Han checked the chron update at the bottom of the monitor display. “Five minutes to launch.”
They came down in tight formation, three vehicles: the Falcon, famous and iconic and just a little dilapidated; a large military shuttle holding a squadron of Galactic Alliance Security officers and troopers; and a small Lambda-class shuttle carrying a detachment of civilian security experts, including Javon, designated as additional security for Amelia Solo.
The formation circled over and around its destination before landing. In the heart of a desert, it was a temporary outpost of civilization—a sprawling camp made up of scores of tents, some of them enormous. There were small spacecraft at the edges and sometimes at landing zones in among the tents; they included shuttles, small transports and cargo vessels, and small gunships. There were also speeders of all sorts, as well as crawler vehicles suited to the desert climate, many of them painted in sandy colors or desert camouflage. Around the periphery of the camp rested mobile shield generators and tracked laser batteries.
At one edge of the camp, a crowd waited.
Han brought the Falcon in to a smooth landing there. The repulsors kicked up large clouds of sand, sending a miniature dust storm flowing toward the main body of waiting onlookers. The two Alliance shuttles settled in behind the Falcon.
The GA Security detail emerged first, its commander trotting over for a quick consultation with her opposite number among the Klatooinians, while other uniformed personnel took up positions around the Falcon.
After a few moments, the security captain’s voice crackled over the comm board. “Mither here. Your crowd is made up of armed belligerents from a dozen worlds, some portions of the crowd are already pulling out anti-Jedi chants, and local security is a joke without a punch line. Recommend you dust off and return to orbit. Over.”
Leia smiled and activated her personal comlink. “Thanks, Captain. We’ll be right down.”
Han sighed and rose. “Seemed like good advice to me.”
Leia stood. “Since when do you listen to good advice?”
“Point taken.” He sounded resigned.
Allana hopped up, careful not to startle Anji. “Can I come, too?”
Leia shook her head. “Not right now, sweetie. Your grandpa and I need to do this alone. We’ll let you know when you can come down with your own security detail.”
Allana’s sigh was as put-upon as Han’s had been.
They descended the boarding ramp of the Falcon and stepped out from under her shadow into glaring sunlight. A contingent of onlookers, all dressed for desert weather, none wearing rank insignia or other markings, stepped forward.
The leader, a tall Klatooinian male bristling with holsters and bandoliers, stopped a meter in front of Han and Leia and offered a minimal bow. “Welcome to Klatooine.” His voice was deep, an articulate growl. “I am Padnel Ovin, strike commander, now leader, of the Sapience Defense Front.”
Leia returned the bow. “Leia Organa Solo. I bring greetings and wishes for success from the Galactic Alliance. And allow me to express my personal sympathies for the circumstances that have brought you to your new duties.”
Padnel offered up something that sounded like a cough.
Leia gestured toward Han. “My husband, Han Solo.” She omitted Han’s various ranks and titles. Such things wouldn’t impress a mob of rebel warriors, while Han’s history of accomplishments would.
Padnel gestured to the bright-eyed, intense Chev female to his left. “My aide, Nialle Aker.” He turned to indicate a Klatooinian female, as tall as he was or taller, to his right. “Reni Coll, leader of the Freedom Advocacy Movement.”
The Klatooinian bowed. She had old scars on her right cheek, her canine-like muzzle, and down her neck, burn scars from the looks of them, that were lighter than her olive-green skin and made it appear as though she were wearing camouflage-pattern makeup. “I am honored,” she said in unaccented Basic. She sounded polite rather than honored.
Padnel half turned to his left and gestured to a droid—a protocol droid identical in shape and size to C-3PO but painted an arterial blood red, with photoreceptors that shone in the same color. “Naysay of Clan Vacweld, of the Manumission Mandate Militia.”
Leia’s heart sank, but she maintained her smile. “I’m delighted to see manumitted droids represented at this meeting.”
Naysay cocked his head. His voice was sharper, less cordial than C-3PO’s. “I was, of course, absolutely certain that a longtime, incorrigible slave owner such as yourself would be ecstatic at my inclusion in these affairs.”
Padnel continued as if he had not heard, and pointed out other members of the delegation. “Azmar Huun, of Tatooine, reporting to Freedom Flight.” This was a small, sandy-colored human male with a wispy mustache and impassive features.
There were other names. Leia smiled, nodded, memorized them all. Beside her, Han shook hands all around and could be counted on not to remember a single name, unless it was someone he’d played sabacc with or traded blasterfire with in the past.
Finally Padnel gestured toward a distant tent, one large enough to shelter two squadrons of X-wings and support crews. “We have cooler air and refreshments waiting … and much to do.”