nodded curtly and, without looking up, used synthflesh to secure the edge of a bactabandage. The adhesive wasn’t supposed to hurt, but it felt like fire against Leia’s inflamed skin.
Han lowered her foot onto the footrest, then gathered up the discarded bandages and stood. “Forget trying to reach Tesar’s mother.”
“Master Saba,” Krasov corrected.
Han ignored her and continued, “If it stops her from coming,that only makes our situation worse.” He turned to Tesar. “How do you know your mother—Master Saba—is still coming?”
“Because we have not felt otherwise,” Bela answered.
Han turned to Bela. “What does that mean, ‘felt otherwise’?”
“Your mate understandz,” Tesar replied, looking to Leia. “Through the Force.”
“Then she must be very near,” Leia said, unsure whether to be confused or impressed. “I know of only a few Jedi who can feel what others are doing, and even then they must be near one another.”
Krasov shook her head. “Not like hatchmates.”
“We feel nothing has happened to her,” Bela added.
“I see.” Leia’s head was beginning to spin from the way the conversational thread roamed from one Barabel to another. “So you’re saying you haven’t felt her die?”
“And that’s how you know the rendezvous is still on?” Han demanded. “Because Master Saba isn’t dead yet?”
Tesar smiled broadly. “Exactly! If Master Saba isn’t dead yet, she will be here.”
Han’s face grew stormy—alarmingly so, at least to Leia. “That’s it.” He stared at the floor for a moment, then turned to Leia. “We’re going to Talfaglio.”
“Talfaglio?” Leia waited for one of the Barabels to object. When none did, she asked, “Are you serious?”
“As a hungry Hutt,” Han replied. “We can’t risk waiting around here for bacta that might be coming someday.”
He threw the soiled bandages down the disposal chute and started to leave. Leia’s repulsor chair barely turned fast enough to keep him in view.
“Han, wait!” Leia made a point of staying where she was; once she started moving, she would find herself following him clear into the cockpit. “Let’s think this through.”
Han turned in the door. “What’s to think through?” There was that hard look again—hardly unknown, but oddly out of place. “We need bacta.”
“We do,” Leia admitted. “But how long will it take to reach Talfaglio?”
“Ten and a half hours,” Han said confidently. “I had Izal plot the course.”
Leia glanced toward the portable tank. “We don’t have ten hours. Eelysa will be dead in half that time.”
“And you in twenty.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Well, I’m not taking chances.” Han turned and vanished through the door.
Leia hastened after him, but her chair was no match for his angry stride. He was already disappearing around the curve of the corridor as she floated out of the crew quarters, and by then she finally understood the hard look in his eye.
“Han!”
Han stopped, but did not turn.
“We can’t go.” Leia wondered if she still knew this man at all, if he could have been so hardened by Chewbacca’s death and the treachery of the Duros that he had truly become the selfish cynic he had fancied himself when they met. “We have to wait … and hope.”
“We have to get
you
to a bacta tank.” Han turned, his eyes filled with tears he refused to shed. “If we don’t, you may not walk again.”
“Then at least I won’t be walking on corpses.” Leia started her chair down the corridor. “Han, have you forgotten who I am? Do you think I want to walk at the cost of someone else’s life? Would you
want
me to?”
Han shook his head weakly. Then tears began to escape his eyes, and he hurried up the corridor. Leia did not follow. She still understood him well enough to know when to leave him alone. He could face no more loss, and Leia was coming to comprehend—or was it fear?—that when he looked at her in the
Han lowered her foot onto the footrest, then gathered up the discarded bandages and stood. “Forget trying to reach Tesar’s mother.”
“Master Saba,” Krasov corrected.
Han ignored her and continued, “If it stops her from coming,that only makes our situation worse.” He turned to Tesar. “How do you know your mother—Master Saba—is still coming?”
“Because we have not felt otherwise,” Bela answered.
Han turned to Bela. “What does that mean, ‘felt otherwise’?”
“Your mate understandz,” Tesar replied, looking to Leia. “Through the Force.”
“Then she must be very near,” Leia said, unsure whether to be confused or impressed. “I know of only a few Jedi who can feel what others are doing, and even then they must be near one another.”
Krasov shook her head. “Not like hatchmates.”
“We feel nothing has happened to her,” Bela added.
“I see.” Leia’s head was beginning to spin from the way the conversational thread roamed from one Barabel to another. “So you’re saying you haven’t felt her die?”
“And that’s how you know the rendezvous is still on?” Han demanded. “Because Master Saba isn’t dead yet?”
Tesar smiled broadly. “Exactly! If Master Saba isn’t dead yet, she will be here.”
Han’s face grew stormy—alarmingly so, at least to Leia. “That’s it.” He stared at the floor for a moment, then turned to Leia. “We’re going to Talfaglio.”
“Talfaglio?” Leia waited for one of the Barabels to object. When none did, she asked, “Are you serious?”
“As a hungry Hutt,” Han replied. “We can’t risk waiting around here for bacta that might be coming someday.”
He threw the soiled bandages down the disposal chute and started to leave. Leia’s repulsor chair barely turned fast enough to keep him in view.
“Han, wait!” Leia made a point of staying where she was; once she started moving, she would find herself following him clear into the cockpit. “Let’s think this through.”
Han turned in the door. “What’s to think through?” There was that hard look again—hardly unknown, but oddly out of place. “We need bacta.”
“We do,” Leia admitted. “But how long will it take to reach Talfaglio?”
“Ten and a half hours,” Han said confidently. “I had Izal plot the course.”
Leia glanced toward the portable tank. “We don’t have ten hours. Eelysa will be dead in half that time.”
“And you in twenty.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Well, I’m not taking chances.” Han turned and vanished through the door.
Leia hastened after him, but her chair was no match for his angry stride. He was already disappearing around the curve of the corridor as she floated out of the crew quarters, and by then she finally understood the hard look in his eye.
“Han!”
Han stopped, but did not turn.
“We can’t go.” Leia wondered if she still knew this man at all, if he could have been so hardened by Chewbacca’s death and the treachery of the Duros that he had truly become the selfish cynic he had fancied himself when they met. “We have to wait … and hope.”
“We have to get
you
to a bacta tank.” Han turned, his eyes filled with tears he refused to shed. “If we don’t, you may not walk again.”
“Then at least I won’t be walking on corpses.” Leia started her chair down the corridor. “Han, have you forgotten who I am? Do you think I want to walk at the cost of someone else’s life? Would you
want
me to?”
Han shook his head weakly. Then tears began to escape his eyes, and he hurried up the corridor. Leia did not follow. She still understood him well enough to know when to leave him alone. He could face no more loss, and Leia was coming to comprehend—or was it fear?—that when he looked at her in the
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