Duros Delegation

“Calrissian!” Mara said, and there was no mistaking the relief in her voice. Or the underlying tension, either. “There are Imperials in the Palace, dressed as Security. I’ve just seen four of them.”

“Interesting,” Bel Iblis said, eying her closely. “Where were you going?”

“I thought it might be a good idea to find out what they were up to,” she growled sarcastically. “You want to help, or not?”

Bel Iblis eased a look around the corner. “I don’t see anyone. They’ve probably already headed down. Best guess is either the war room or the Sarkan reception.” —The Last Command

---------------------------------------------------

It was a tired and more than a little exhausted Han Solo that finally made his way back to the Palace suite he shared with Leia and Winter. “Captain Solo!” Winter exclaimed, looking up from where she was seated in the main living area as soon as he stumbled through the doorway. “We thought you were going to be back an hour ago. Where have you been?”

“The war room,” Han told her, slumping into a nearby chair. “Three hours spent going over battle response plans with Admiral Ackbar and General Madine. Makes me miss the simple days when I was just getting shot at by Hutts.” He cast a look around the suite. “Where‘s Leia?”

“She went looking for you,” Winter said, assuming a tone not unlike the one Leia sometimes took with him. “The two of you are attending the reception for the Duros delegation tonight.”

The reception. He’d completely forgotten. “I must have lost track of time,” he admitted sheepishly. He was really going to be in for it when Leia got back. “How long do I have?”

“The receptions starts in fifteen minutes,” Winter said, looking him up and down, “and I don’t think you should attend looking like that. If you hurry you may be able to get ready before the Princess gets back.”

Even as she said it the main door to the suite opened up again, and this time it was Leia who came marching through. “A little late for that,” she said, crossing her arms in mock-disapproval. She was done up in an elaborate white ballgown with a silver filigree clasped over her left shoulder. Even bulging eight-months pregnant, she looked beautiful. “And where have you been, Han? I’ve had Threepio looking all over for you.”

So there was going to be a plus side to this, after all. “I was down in the war room with Ackbar and Madine,” Han repeated, enjoying the thought of Goldenrod wasting even five minutes of his precious time. “We were going over the response plans for Farrfin system.”

“That was supposed to end an hour ago,” Leia pointed out.

“It went a little longer than expected,” Han admitted. He hesitated; but Leia was going to find out eventually, anyway. “And afterwards I may have stopped by the Falcon to give Chewie a hand.”

“Han…” Leia sighed. “Han, I don’t think I need to tell you this reception is important. The Duros’ commercial network is central to the New Republic infrastructure. And ever since Grand Admiral Thrawn unveiled his clones, a lot of our members have been getting skittish. We can‘t afford to lose the Duros as an ally right now.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Han said, taking her hand in his. “And I’m sorry. I just lost track of time. Honestly.”

“All right,” Leia smiled. She gave him a pat on the cheek. “Then get moving. Winter’s right, you can’t attend looking like that. Go grab a quick shower and then get dressed. I had Winter lay out your clothes on the bed.”

With only a half-hearted grumble Han got up and headed for their bedroom. It only took him ten minutes to get completely washed and cleaned up, and just a little longer than that to get his dress clothes on and fastened. One last look to make sure everything was in its proper place, and then he was ready to go.

Leia and Winter were waiting for him when he emerged from the bedroom. “Finally,” Leia said as she set down the data pad she’d been reading, and Han fought the urge to ask how long it’d taken her to get dressed. “You look good, at least,” she added, going over him with a critical eye.

“I look ridiculous,” he said, tugging at the high collar of his dress jacket. “I look like a Kowakian monkey-lizard.”

“You look like a diplomat,” Leia corrected, still giving him that once-over. She stopped at his hip. “Han,” she chided, “you can’t take your blaster to a diplomatic reception.”

Han’s eyes dropped to the blaster he had slung there. To be honest, he hadn’t even realized he’d put it on. “Why not?” he challenged. “If Luke were here, he’d probably be wearing his lightsaber.”

“That’s completely different,” Leia said. “The lightsaber is part of the Jedi uniform. Besides, we’re going to be in the middle of the Imperial Palace. What are you going to need a blaster for?”

“You never know,” Han pointed out. Leia crossed her arms again... “All right, all right,” he conceded, disappearing back into the bedroom. He returned a moment later. “Happy?” he asked, displaying his blaster-less hip.

“Aren’t I always?” Leia smiled, standing up and looking every bit the piece of Alderaanian royalty that she was. “Winter, don’t wait up for us.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Winter responded, though Han was pretty sure she would anyway.

In the meantime Leia had stepped over to Han and offered her arm. “Captain Solo?” she asked playfully. “Shall we go?”

* * *

Even with Han’s delay they arrived at the reception only twenty minutes after it had started. “Fashionably late,” Han observed as he steered Leia among the crowd of dressed-up partygoers that were already lining the Palace’s Grand Corridor.

“I’d have preferred to be fashionably on time,” Leia muttered back as she sent a warm smile toward a done-up Aqualish couple. “Look, there’s Garm.”

There he was, all right, looking every bit as primped up and foolish as Han felt. “General Bel Iblis,” Leia greeted formally, giving him a slight bow. “It’s good to see you. You look wonderful.”

“Leia; Solo,” Bel Iblis returned politely. He at least didn‘t seem to mind playing dress-up. “We were beginning to get concerned you weren’t going to make it.”

“Just a little mix-up about the time,” Leia assured him, giving Han’s hand a warning squeeze. “Who is ‘we,’ anyway?”

“Just Admiral Ackbar and myself,” Bel Iblis assured her. He peered among the crowd. “He’s around here somewhere. We were just discussing Solo’s suggestions for Farrfin system, actually.”

“Yeah?” Han asked, his ears perking. After three hours Farrfin was about the last thing he wanted to talk about right now; but anything was better than this diplomat stuff. “What about it?”

“Han,” Leia interjected, “this really isn’t the place for that kind of conversation. Admiral Ackbar was just here, did you say, Garm?”

“That’s right,” Bel Iblis said, poking his head around. “I think Mon Mothma dragged him off to speak to—yes, there he is talking with Ambassador Lansu.”

Han saw him, too, over by one of the many greenish-purple ch’hala trees that lined the Grand Corridor: seemingly deep in conversation with some blue-skinned, bulbous-eyed Duro in an elaborate half-cape. “I should go speak with them,” Leia said, turning for a moment on Han. “Now stay here. And try not to get into any trouble,” she commanded, before moving through the crowd towards Ackbar.

“Hey, it’s me,” Han muttered to himself, fighting the urge to feel abandoned. It was one thing to drag him to these things in the first place; but to leave him by himself was something else entirely.

Well, not exactly by himself. “Leia’s good,” Bel Iblis observed, taking a sip from the glass in his hand.

“Yeah, well, don’t let the façade fool you,” Han advised. “Leia hates this stuff every bit as much as you and me. She’s just better at hiding it, that‘s all.” He moved a little closer to Bel Iblis. “So were you and Ackbar really talking about Farrfin?”

Bel Iblis cast a look around. “Leia’s right, this isn’t the place for this conversation,” he said, absentmindedly brushing a hand against one of the ch’hala’s trunks. There was a quick flash of red where his hand touched. “Stop by my suite after the reception.”

“Sure thing,” Han said as Bel Iblis finished his drink and then disappeared off into the crowd. A SE4 servant droid appeared offering Han a drink of his own, and he took it gratefully. He could see quite a group had gathered for the Duros reception: over in this corner he spied Councilor Sian Tevv with the Sullustan contingent, while on the other side of the Corridor Han could overhear Admiral Drayson and the rest of the Fleet commanders caught up in some pleasantry with a pack of Duros. Scattered among the delegates Han occasionally noticed the tan-clad figure of a Palace security guard, watching over the reception. Meanwhile everyone was giving Han himself a respectable amount of space.

Dimly he wished Luke was here, or Chewbacca.

Eventually the ringing sound of a gong filled the Grand Corridor: the signal for dinner. Han watched as everyone began filing through the door that led into the banquet hall. “Han?” Leia called from where she stood among the crowd, waving Han forward. “Come on, it’s time for dinner.”

Han put on a forced smile and pushed his way through the herd towards her. When he finally reached her he was more than a little disappointed to discover Ambassador Lansu, still standing next to her and positively beaming. “Han, I don’t think you’ve met the Ambassador yet,” Leia noted, sending him a careful look. Not that Han needed it. Just because he didn’t usually play nice didn’t mean he couldn't. “Ambassador Lansu, this is my husband, Han Solo.”

[[Ah, yes—Captain Solo,]] Lansu burbled, giving Han a bow. [[I of course have heard so much about you. It is a pleasure to meet you at last.]]

“Likewise, Ambassador,” Han said, feeling a little embarrassed. He looked for something to say. “How are you liking Coruscant?” he tried, feeling stupid as soon as he said it.

But Lansu knew how to play along. [[It is very pleasant,]] he said. [[I was here once, years ago during the time of the Emperor. It has been much improved since then. I was hoping to tour the Manarai Mountains, before I left…but alas! Official matters have detained me thus far.]]

“You should try and make it out there anyway,” Han urged, very aware of Leia’s intent look. His performance was being rated, he knew. “They can be quite nice this time of year.”

[[Perhaps on my next visit,]] Lansu sighed. [Assuming of course this business with the Empire is settled by then. Things are not looking maybe so well for the Republic these days, do you think?]]

Han fought the urge to feel defensive. “I think we’re doing okay for ourselves,” he said with all the politeness he could muster. “The Republic’s still got half the galaxy under its control, and we‘ve managed to beat Thrawn at his game a time or two.”

“Han,” Leia chided him softly, “I thought I asked you to hold off on any military talk tonight. You’ll have to forgive my husband, Ambassador,” she added to Lansu, “he sometimes forgets what's an appropriate topic for a reception.”

[[But of course,]] Lansu dismissed the apology with a friendly wave. [[Captain Solo is a warrior. We admire such things in my culture.]]

“Thanks,” Han said, doing his best at a polite smile.

He was saved by another ring of the gong. Leia excused them from Lansu and started steering Han towards their assigned table. “Thank you,” she murmured once Lansu was out of earshot. “I know how hard that was for you.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” Han said, casting a glance over his shoulder. Lansu had moved on to someone in a major’s uniform and was already talking his ear off. “Just keep me away from that guy for the rest of the night, okay? I’m not sure I can keep my mouth shut that long a second time.”

Beside him he caught Leia smile. “Deal.”

They’d been put at a table near the center of the room, adjacent to the ambassador’s and with most of the Inner Council seated with them. Han could see Admiral Ackbar already in his chair, sitting patiently and waiting for them. “Hey, Admiral,” Han greeted, plopping down in the seat next to Ackbar. “I was hoping we could go at least a couple hours without seeing each other again.”

“There are some things more important than even the Farrfin response plan,” Ackbar nodded, his salmon-colored head bobbing up-and-down. “Or so I’ve been told. Isn’t that right, Councilor Organa Solo?”

“Leia and I have already had this conversation,” Han said before Leia could answer. “Needless to say, she won.”

“As I always do,” Leia confirmed, sitting down next to Han. “Has anyone seen Mon Mothma come in yet?”

“I haven't,” Bel Iblis said from where he was sitting on Ackbar‘s other side, even as an aide stepped over to confer with him. Bel Iblis listened as the aide whispered in his ear, and then— “I’m sorry, I have a call waiting. If you’ll excuse me?”

He got up and started moving through the crowd back towards the entrance. “Must be important,” Han noted, undoing his napkin and dropping it on his lap.

“Yes,” Ackbar agreed…and Han could see the Admiral’s round swiveling eyes follow Bel Iblis out the door. “Incidentally,” he added as his eyes turned back on Han, “I never properly thanked the two of you for your support over the past months.”

“Don’t mention it, Admiral,” Han said, brushing the comment aside. “You would have done the same for us.”

“Of course,” Ackbar agreed quickly. “Nevertheless I wish to thank you. If not for your efforts, I fear Councilor Fey’lya and his accusations would still be hanging over me.”

“Like I said, don’t mention it,” Han said, looking away…and frowning as he did so. Was it his imagination, or did those two guards near the entrance look a little old to be Palace security?

“We’re just glad we could help,” Leia told Ackbar, leaning over Han. But Han wasn’t paying attention. Yes, they were definitely too old to be doing regular guard duty on the Palace grounds, Han decided as he cast another look around. Had Colonel Bremen pulled a special shift for the reception?

“Is something wrong?” Ackbar inquired into his thoughts.

Han turned back toward Ackbar and Leia, to discover both of them looking at him. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Either one of you recognize those two guards standing by the main entrance?”

Both Leia and Ackbar craned their necks looking over the crowd. “No,” Ackbar shook his head. “Me, neither,” Leia said, “but that doesn’t mean anything. There must be dozens of people working Palace security that I wouldn’t recognize.”

“Right,” Han conceded, turning to check the rest of the banquet hall. It wasn’t just the two by the door, he realized now. He counted at least ten other men in the classic tan uniforms of Palace security, including one with a lieutenant‘s insignia on his chest. All of them looking far older than the kids Han was used to seeing…

“Uh-oh,” he said, as the lieutenant suddenly signaled across to the other men. As one they detached themselves from their positions along the wall and started moving purposefully towards the main tables in the center of the room. “I think we’ve got trouble,” Han told Leia and Ackbar.

“What is it, Captain Solo?” Ackbar asked.

But Han never got a chance to say. Just at that moment the head lieutenant pulled out his blaster, lifted it toward the ceiling, and fired.

The shot rang out across the room, echoing awfully in the acoustics of the banquet hall. The general noise and background conversation came abruptly to an uncomfortable halt, replaced by a confused and astonished silence. Every face in the room turned towards the lieutenant, who by now had reached the main table that held Ambassador Lansu and his delegation.

One of the Duro delegates stood up angrily as the lieutenant jumped onto the tabletop. [[What is the meaning of this?]] he demanded, his bulbous red eyes narrowing. [[Who are you, and what do you think you are do—]]

The rest of his comment was cut off as the lieutenant lowered his blaster and fired. The Duro took the blast full in the chest, collapsing to the floor and quivering on the carpet as a blackened hole started smoking from his torso.

This was too much for the rest of the crowd. Their previously stunned silence was replaced by pandemonium as the room erupted in a sudden panic. “Nobody move!” the lieutenant commanded, as the rest of the guards drew out their own blasters and pointed them at the crowd. The lieutenant gestured at two of his men. “Tiers, Meritt: the door.”

Han glanced back at the entranceway. The two guards Han had noticed earlier aimed their blasters, and two blaster bolts lanced out in quick succession. They formed a deep, gouging hole in the dark wood of the ornate doors; and with the sudden blare of high-pitched alarms the secret sensors embedded in the doorframe went off, and then slammed a hidden security door down into place.

Sealing Han and the rest of them inside. “All right!” the man with the lieutenant’s insignia called from the table, brandishing his blaster. “Now I want everybody to keep quiet and listen carefully. Just do what we say and nobody else will get shot!”

Han felt someone grabbing at his shirt. “Han!” Leia hissed in his ear, her nails digging into his arm. “What’s going on?”

“Stay quiet, sweetheart,” Han said, his eyes still following the rest of the security guards as they scattered around the room. “Just sit still and let’s not draw too much attention to ourselves, okay?”

“But why?” Leia pressed. “What’s happening?”

“What else?” Ackbar muttered on Han‘s other side, his facial expression looking every bit as exhausted as Han felt. “It’s a hostage situation.”

* * *

Bel Iblis had finished his call, and was just getting up from one of the comm stations located outside the Grand Corridor, when he heard the echo of distant blaster shots coming down the hallway. Quickly he leaped up and started sprinting down the Corridor towards the main reception area, his hands instinctively reaching at his side for the blaster that wasn’t there. Silently he cursed himself; if there was a blaster fight going on, it’d be nice to be bringing a blaster to it. But there was nothing he could do about that now.

Fortunately it didn’t look like he’d be needing one just yet. Bel Iblis finally reached the main entrance to the banquet hall to find the way sealed shut, a large metal security door locked in place. In front of it a motley collection of Palace security guards was gathered outside, banging on the door with their blasters. “Colonel Bremen,” Bel Iblis addressed the man clad in the bulky uniform of the head of Palace security. “What’s going on?”

“General Bel Iblis,” Bremen greeted without turning. His attention was on one of the young guards examining the controls to the locking mechanism. “I thought you were supposed to be attending this reception.”

“I had to step out for a minute,” Bel Iblis explained. “What’s going on here?” he tried again.

“We’re not completely sure at this point,” Bremen said, leaning in towards the young guard. “Any luck, Lieutenant?”

“No, sir,” the man said, throwing up his hands in defeat. “I can’t get this thing open. It’s not even recognizing the override codes.”

Bel Iblis thought he heard Bremen curse something under his breath. “All right,” he said, standing back up. “Let’s get two men down to the armory immediately; I’m pretty sure we’ve got an E-Web repeating blaster down there that could probably make a dent in this thing. And have someone send up an R2 unit in the meantime,” he called after the lieutenant as the latter started sprinting off down the Corridor. “Maybe it can do something about the overrides.”

The lieutenant pulled out his comlink and got to work. “Someone pulled a blaster in the banquet hall while you were out,” Bremen said, finally turning towards Bel Iblis. “Our information is sketchy, but it appears one of the Duro officials was hit. A couple of my men tried to get in, but the assailants were able to activate the emergency lockdown before they made it.”

“What about the guards who are already inside?” Bel Iblis asked. “Have you heard anything from them?”

“That’s the thing,” Bremen sighed. “Our information indicate the assailants were Palace security.”

Bel Iblis felt his jaw drop. “Palace security fired on the Duros delegation?”

“Like I said, the information is sketchy,” Bremen responded quickly. “We don’t have any real idea what happened in there yet. But one thing’s for sure: whoever those men are, they’re definitely not Palace security. About five minutes ago we found the men who were scheduled to be covering tonight’s detail, dumped in a storage closet.”

Bel Iblis nodded dumbly. That explained that part, at least. How they were able to get into the Palace in the first place was another question entirely.

And one that would have to wait. “So what’s your plan, Colonel?”

“You heard me send Lieutenant Kendy down to the armory,” Bremen said, turning away again. “Let’s hope he gets back here before they start shooting more hostages.”

Hostages. And Leia and Solo were among them. “And if he doesn‘t?” Bel Iblis asked softly.

But Bremen didn’t have an answer to that one.

* * *

“Everybody listen up,” the lieutenant continued, waving for everyone’s attention. “Things will go a lot more pleasantly if you all sit there and don’t get any sudden delusions of grandeur.”

Not that this crowd needed the extra warning. Even with her rather rudimentary skills in the Force Leia could sense the sudden ripple of fear that passed across the crowd. Fear, and confusion, and a pervasive apprehension: practically radiating from every single person in the room.

Well, maybe not quite every person. “We cannot simply sit here,” Ackbar hissed. Their captors—whoever they were—were circling the room in a lazy pattern, searching the crowd for troublemakers. All of them still had blasters out, and all of them looked like they were ready to use them. “We must do something to stop them,” Ackbar repeated.

“I’m not sure there‘s anything we can do, Admiral” Leia whispered back, as the lieutenant droned on behind them. “I can see at least twelve of them, and they’re all armed. I think the best course is to wait here for Palace security to handle this.”

“Afraid that won’t work, sweetheart,” Han said glumly on Leia‘s other side. “Whoever our friends here are, they’re clearly good enough to sneak into the Palace and infiltrate security. They’ll see whatever Bremen throws at them from a mile away.”

“All right. Then what do you suggest?”

“Councilor Organa Solo is a Jedi, is she not?” Ackbar said. “Surely you can do something.”

“I’m more of a Jedi-in-training, Admiral,” Leia clarified, wishing for not the first time that she had dedicated more time to her studies. “I wouldn’t trust my abilities in a hostage situation like this…”

“It’s not a hostage situation,” Han interrupted.

Leia balked. “What do you mean, it’s not a hostage situation?” she demanded. “The Admiral just said—”

“I know what he said,” Han replied. “It’s not a hostage situation. When you take hostages, you usually have demands. You see anyone making any demands yet?”

Han had a point. “Okay,” she conceded, “so it’s not a hostage situation. Then what is it? These people aren’t going to make it far out of the Palace without hostages.”

Han indicated at one of the guards standing near the still-smoking hole by the entranceway. “Take a look.”

Leia followed his gaze. The guard was an older-looking man, maybe thirty-five; certainly older than the usual twenty-somethings who staffed Palace security. He was clad in the typical tan uniform, including a light security vest and standard-issue DH-17 blaster pistol. And on his belt…

Leia gasped. On his belt was a thermal detonator.

“No,” Leia whispered, her heart dropping in her chest. “They can’t be serious.”

“Oh, they’re serious, all right,” Han said grimly. “It’s not a hostage situation because they don’t plan on getting out of here—not alive, anyway. My guess is they’ll wait just long enough for Bremen and whoever else is out there to break through that door; and then they’ll blow this whole place back to the Outer Rim.”

Leia swallowed, doing another scan of the room. It wasn’t just the guard by the door, she realized now; all of them were packing thermal detonators. “Then we really must do something,” Ackbar repeated. “Now, before they have a chance to get their detonators armed.”

“Don’t worry, Admiral,” Han assured the other, “I’ve got a plan. I’ve got a hold-out blaster hidden in my right boot—”

“Han!” Leia exclaimed despite herself. “I thought I told you not to—”

“You can lecture me later, Your Highnessness,” Han interrupted. “If you two can get me a distraction, I should be able to take out most of them before they have a chance to get their detonators off.”

“Most of them?” Leia repeated. “Han…”

“I will do it,” Ackbar said quickly. “Councilor Organa Solo is pregnant and should not be put in danger.”

“Actually, Admiral, I sort of had Leia in mind.” He turned intently on her now. “Remember back on Bimmisaari when we encountered those Noghri things in the market?”

Leia remembered, all right. “What did you have in mind?”

“Nothing fancy; just enough to keep them distracted for a few seconds,” Han said, moving casually into a better firing position. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Got it,” Leia said, frowning. “If we’re going to make a move, we better hurry,” she added, picking up a cluster of emotions starting to gather on the other side of the security door. “I can sense Colonel Bremen and his men moving into position outside.”

Han nodded, and Leia could detect the grim determination in his emotions. “You’re still in this too, Admiral,” he told Ackbar. “Once Leia gives us her distraction I need to you take out that guard behind us. You think you can do that?”

“Absolutely, Captain Solo,” Ackbar assured him.

“Great,” Han said, “then it’s all down to you, sweetheart. Wait till this guy finishes his pass, then make your move.”

“Ready when you are,” Leia said, already searching the room for a suitable target. She found what she was looking for twenty meters away: an empty chair on the edge of the ring of tables, close enough to draw attention but isolated enough that no one should get hurt in the crossfire. Hopefully. “Just tell me when.”

Han nodded, and taking a deep breath Leia went through some of the Force-exercises Luke had taught her. Over her shoulder she could hear muffled steps as one of the guards passed behind them. Just a couple more feet…

“Now,” Han muttered.

Leia reached out with the Force, and with all her focus gave the chair a hard push. It took considerably more of her effort than she had anticipated—clearly she needed to be spending a lot more time on her Jedi studies—but it was enough. The chair tipped, then toppled to the floor with a clatter and a bang; and for those few seconds every face in the room was turned towards it.

They were seconds Han didn’t waste. He reached down into his right boot, and came up with a tiny hold-out blaster gripped tightly in his hand. He had four of the guards down before they even realized what was happening, and another two as they started scrambling for cover. Meanwhile Ackbar had risen up and charged the guard behind them, his large webbed hands outstretched. The man hesitated for a moment as he shifted his aim from Han to Ackbar; and then Ackbar came crashing down on top of him, wrestling him to the floor.

By this time Han had taken out another one of the security guards; but there were still four left, and now he’d lost the element of surprise. Through the smoke and criss-crossing blaster bolts Leia could see one of the guards by the door reaching a hand down to his belt… “Han!” Leia exclaimed, grabbing his shoulder.

She needn’t have worried. Even as the man placed his hand down upon the thermal detonator, there was the heavy thud of an E-web repeating blaster, and suddenly the security door burst into shrapnel. Charging through the haze came half-a-dozen real security guards, their weapons out and tracking, and the man went down in a torrent of blaster-fire. He was joined a couple seconds later by two of his companions; and a second after that by a third, thanks to a well-placed shot from Han’s hold-out blaster.

And then, just like that, it was over.

* * *

“The medics say he’s going to be all right,” Leia said. Further down the Grand Corridor Han could see the group of medical technicians clustered around the injured Duro, laid out on one of Palace security’s gravsleds. Clustered around them, hovering nervously like a mother mynock, was Ambassador Lansu. “He took the shot pretty bad, but the technician I spoke to is confident that if they can get him into a bacta tank within the next half-hour, he should make it.”

“Terrific,” Han said. “Anyone else get injured?”

“A couple bruises here and there,” Leia said. “Nothing to be too concerned about. Everyone did a pretty good job of staying low once the firefight started. All in all I’d say we were lucky.”

“‘Luck’ had nothing to do with it,” Ackbar spoke up. “If not for Captain Solo’s initiative we might all be dead right now. I think we owe him our appreciation.” Beside him Bel Iblis nodded in agreement.

“We were still lucky,” Han said, glancing over Leia’s shoulder. The medics were starting to move the gravsled with the injured Duro down toward the medical wing. Meanwhile Lansu had separated himself from the group and was heading in their direction.

Bel Iblis had noticed, too. “Apparently we aren’t the only ones who appreciate your handiwork, Solo,” he said, turning. “Ambassador Lansu,” he greeted as the other approached.

[[General Bel Iblis,]] Lansu returned, giving everyone in the group a nod before focusing on Han. [[Excuse me, Captain Solo,]] he said, taking Han’s hand. [[I must thank you for your efforts earlier tonight. If not for you, Mishu would be dead.]] He hesitated for a moment. [[As would we all. You are truly worthy of your reputation.]]

“Don’t mention it,” Han said , brushing aside the compliment. Mishu’s life hadn’t been the one he’d been most concerned about, anyway.

“Ambassador?” a voice said, and Han discovered Colonel Bremen coming up the Corridor. “Ambassador, the medics are taking your assistant to the medical wing now. If you’d care to join them?”

[[Of course,]] Lansu said, releasing his grip on Han’s hand. [[Thank you again, Captain Solo. May the Force be with you.]]

He gave Ackbar and Bel Iblis a final farewell nod before allowing himself to be escorted away by Bremen. “I should go with him” Leia said, almost apologetically.

“It’s okay,” Han assured her, giving a smile. “Go.”

Leia returned the smile before turning around and scurrying after Lansu and Bremen. “All right,” Bel Iblis said, taking a quick look around. But other than the twin row of ch‘hala trees they were alone now in the Grand Corridor. “Now can one of you explain to me what exactly went on in there?”

“It’s like we told Bremen,” Han said. “One of the guys dressed up like Palace security pulled out a blaster and started shooting, with his buddies not far behind. Ackbar and I decided to take them out before they could do any more damage.”

“I don’t mean what happened,” Bel Iblis clarified. “I mean who they were, and what were they trying to accomplish.”

Han shrugged. “We didn’t exactly get that far,” he admitted. “As for who they were…I think it’s safe to say they were Imperial agents.”

“Are you certain?” Ackbar asked cautiously. “I don’t think we yet wish to exclude other possibilities—”

“I’m certain,” Han interrupted. “Right before the attack I saw one of them give the others a hand signal of some kind. It’s the same kind of signal used by Imperial commandos.”

Ackbar eyes swiveled in their sockets. “Very well,” he conceded. “Let us assume then they were Imperial agents. What did they hope to accomplish tonight?”

Bel Iblis sighed. “To instill fear in our allies, I would guess,” he said grimly, “to show them we aren’t capable of protecting ourselves even in the heart of the Republic capital. It’s the kind of psychological warfare that would be right up Thrawn’s alley.”

“By wasting his own men?” Ackbar pressed. “That does not seem Thrawn’s style.”

“Correction: it wasn’t Thrawn’s style,” Han said. “Now that he’s got an unlimited army of clone soldiers to throw at us, he can probably afford to waste a squad or two.”

A silence settled over the group as Han’s words sunk in. “We must take the time to consider the implications of this,” Ackbar decided at last. “Speak of this to no one, both of you—and I mean no one. Not even your wife, Captain Solo, can know of this.”

“You got it, Admiral,” Han said, choosing to overlook the implication that Leia somehow couldn't be trusted. “No problem.”

“Good,” Ackbar nodded. “Then if you will excuse me, gentlemen?”

Without another word he turned and hurried down the Grand Corridor towards the main turbolifts. “What’s his rush?” Han asked.

“He probably just wants to check in with Drayson, make sure there hasn’t been any major Imperial build-up over the past hour,” Bel Iblis assured him. “My understanding is he’s already been taking heat for the Delta Source leak over the past couple months. Imperial agents sneaking into the Palace aren’t going to help that.”

“Yeah, but most of that heat was coming from Fey’lya,” Han said. “Fey’lya’s been about as quiet as a womp rat ever since we got back from the Katana.”

“A form of Bothan penance,” Bel Iblis identified it. “Don’t worry, if I know Councilor Fey’lya, he’ll be back on his feet—and sooner than we’d like.” He nodded at the hold-out blaster peaking out of Han’s boot. “Good idea keeping a spare blaster on you, by the way. I may pick up the habit.”

“You usually don‘t need one in the Imperial Palace,” Han said. “I wouldn’t mind if you put in a good word with Leia, though. I have a feeling she’s not going to be pleased.”

“I’ll do that,” Bel Iblis promised. “In the meantime, have you gotten anything to eat yet?”

To be honest, Han hadn’t even thought about food in the past hour. “No,” he said, even as his stomach started growling. He suddenly realized just how hungry he was. “Everything sort of happened before they had a chance to get to the main course.”

“Then come on,” Bel Iblis said, taking him by the shoulder. “Leia won’t be back from the medical wing for at least an hour. Let’s get you some food.”