[Hand Of Thrawn] - 01(141)

Leia rolled her eyes. “I swear, Han, I think you can read my mind better without Jedi senses than I can read yours with them.”

He waved a hand. “Professional secret. One of the things you learn as a scoundrel.”

“Of course,” Leia said, looking in the direction of the hallway again. “I wonder how unethical it would be to send Threepio in to take notes for them-“

“Lady Vader,” a gravelly voice cut in.

Leia jumped; as usual, she hadn’t beard or sensed the Noghri’s approach. What is it, Gharakh?”

“Perhaps trouble,” Gharakh growled. “The sentry on the rooftop is not responding to his comlink.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Leia saw Han roll slightly in his chair to loosen his blaster in its bolster. “You’ve sent a team to check on him?”

“They are on the way,” the Noghri said. “But until we know otherwise, we must assume an intruder is attempting to break in. Where are the others?”

“Down the ball,” Leia said. Even as she pointed, she felt the subtle change in air pressure as the distant bedroom door slid open. “That should be them now,” she added as the sound of approaching footsteps confirmed it.

“I would ask that you stay in this room for the present,” Gharakh said. As he spoke, Lando appeared around the corner, followed by Karrde&mdash “If there is an intruder, we will need to seek him out.”

-followed by a tall, slender woman dressed in a dark gray combat jumpsuit.

“Don’t bother,” the woman said quietly. “I’m here.”





CHAPTER


22


Their reactions, as reactions went, were quick and efficient. At the same time, Shada had to admit, they were oddly comic to watch.

The shock of the unexpected voice behind him sent Calrissian jumping half a meter into the air, his gunhand getting momentarily tangled in his cloak before he could haul his blaster free. The Noghri’s blaster, unsurprisingly, was already out and trained on her, with Solo’s not very far behind. Karrde didn’t jump nearly as far as Calrissian bad; but instead of going for a weapon himself, he merely took a long step to the side to give Solo and the Noghri a clear field of fire. A smart move, but no more th an Shada would have expected from someone of his reputation.

Councilor Organa Solo, in contrast to the others, didn’t move at all.

Shada didn’t move, either, She stood where she was, hands hanging empty at her sides, wondering distantly if the vaunted and probably overrated Noghri combat reflexes would make it more or less likely the guard would overreact to her unexpected appearance by gunning her down.

She almost hoped he would. In many ways, it would be the simplest way to end things.

But the Noghri didn’t fire. Neither did Solo nor Calrissian; and with a vague sort of half regret Shada knew she wasn’t going to get to go out the easy way.

It was Organa Solo who broke the brittle silence. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice as serene as her face.

“My name is Shada D’ukal,” Shada said. “I’m not here to hurt any of you.”

Organa Solo nodded. “I know.”

Solo threw her a quick sideways glance. “You do?”

“My danger sense would have reacted otherwise,” Organa Solo told him. “Long before she arrived in this room.”

“What did you do to the guard on the roof?” the Noghri snarled.

“I taught him not to be carelessly compassionate,” Shada said. “He’s not hurt, except possibly his pride.”

There was a quiet mewing of alien language from a comlink attached to the Noghri’s collar. “Gharakh?” Organa Solo murmured.

“He is unhurt,” the Noghri said. His blaster was still aimed at Shada, but his eyes seemed fractionally less baleful. “They are freeing him from his restraints.”

There was a whisper of movement from the corridor behind Shada. She started to turn her head&mdash

“Stand where you are,” a Noghri voice ordered from behind her. “Lift your arms.”

Shada did as instructed, holding her arms out to the sides as alien hands flitted across her body, wondering where this other group had been hiding. To have sneaked up behind her in what bad seemed to be a dead-end corridor&mdash

She smiled to herself. Of course: they’d come from the roof, following her route down the safety line and in through the bedroom window.

And they’d done so with a speed and efficiency that rivaled the best the Mistryl could have offered. Perhaps the Noghri weren’t as overrated as she’d thought.

A minute later the probing hands were gone, taking her hip pack and climbing harness with them. “Sit down,” the Noghri standing next to Organa Solo ordered, gesturing toward one of the chairs in the conversation circle. “Keep your hands where they can be seen.”