The first of which would be in barely six hours. Rolling over, closing his eyes, he cleared his mind and tried to get back to sleep.
***
Han shook his head. “No,” he said, wincing slightly as Leia carefully dabbed salve onto his left shoulder. “I did not fire. Not into the crowd; not anywhere.”
“Those we spoke to claim you did,” Orou’cya insisted. “They say a blaster shot came from your balcony.”
“Did Clan Leader Rayl’skar also fire?” Sakhisakh demanded. “The survivors say that as well.”
“They are mistaken about that,” Orou’cya said, his huffy voice in odd contrast to the wariness with which he eyed the Noghri. “Clan Leader Rayl’skar had no blaster.”
“Well, I didn’t fire mine,” Han insisted.
The Bothan’s fur rippled. “If that is your word, I must accept it,” he sighed. “It does not really matter.”
Han grimaced. No, probably it didn’t. With twenty-seven of the rioters dead and maybe forty more injured-and with the first floor of the Combined Clans Building a total loss-it hardly mattered anymore who had started it.
Except to the news reporters, of course. Most of whom were blaming him.
The door opened and a pair of Bothan guards stepped in, carrying a few bent pieces of gold metal. “Here is the rest, First Secretary,” one of them said, offering their prizes to Orou’cya. “We have completed our search, and there is no more to be found.”
Han scowled at the fragments. They’d been sweeping up pieces of Threepio for nearly an hour now, from nooks and crannies all over the first floor. It was like Cloud City all over again, only worse.
“He’ll be all right,” Leia murmured to him. “It didn’t look like any of his major components had been seriously damaged while they were being kicked around. Most of it is cosmetic.”
“We can repair him, if you’d like,” Orou’cya offered.
“No, thanks,” Han said, wishing Chewie were here instead of back on Coruscant minding the kids.
Or maybe not. The last time the Wookiee had had to put Threepio back together, the droid hadn’t exactly bubbled over with gratitude. “We’ve got people on Coruscant who can do it.”
“Of course.” Orou’cya hesitated. “Speaking of Coruscant, Councilor Organa Solo, Clan Leader Rayl’skar has been in contact with the New Republic government. President Gavrisom would like to speak with you at your earliest convenience.”
Han looked up at Leia. “You want me to need some extra looking after?” he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear.
Leia made a face, but shook her bead. “No, I’d better not put it off,” she said, handing him a bandage. “The sooner we get our side of the story to him, the better. May I use your communications room, Secretary Orou’cya?”
“Of course, Councilor Organa Solo,” the Bothan said gravely, gesturing to the door. “Follow me, please.”
They went out, the other two Bothans following, Sakhisakh rather conspicuously inviting himself along. Scowling again, Han took advantage of his new solitude to relieve himself of a few choice words; and he’d just gotten the bandage in place on his shoulder when the door opened and Barkhimkh came in. “Leia’s gone to the comm room,” he told the Noghri.
“I know,” Barkhimkh said, stepping over to him and holding out his hand. “But I wished you to see this first.”
Frowning, Han picked up the charred and twisted device from the Noghri’s hand. “What is it?”
“The remains of an Imperial delusion,” Barkhimkh bit out, his voice harsh with contempt. “A redirection crystal and blast tube filled with Tibanna gas are mounted in a wad of adhesion material and placed near one who is to be accused of a murder. A sharpshooter then fires a shot into the crystal, which redirects the energy into the tube.”
“Which then fires just like a regular blaster.” Han nodded grimly. Suddenly this whole thing was coming clear. “A random shot into the crowd, and I get blamed for it.”
“Yes,” Barkhimkh said blackly. “Once again, you have been blamed for something that was not your fault.”
“Yeah, but this time they’ve done a real good job of it,” Han said. “Wait a second, though. How come no one saw the sharpshooter’s blast?”
“He was most likely using a Xerrol Nightstinger sniper weapon,” Barkhimkh said. “It fires an invisible bolt.”
Han frowned. “You’re kidding. I’ve never heard of a blaster that could do that,”
“The Empire did not advertise its existence,” the Noghri said, “And aside from that sinle advantage it was a decidedly inferior weapon. The blaster gas required cost well over a thousand per canister, could only be used in specially designed blasters, and only permitted three to five shots per canister before replacement. Hardly a weapon for common usage.”