Some demonstration.
“There’s no way we can make it through all that,” she told Han reluctantly. “Even if we could, I doubt the Filvians would risk opening the shield to let us in. We’d better make a run for it.”
“Sounds good to me,” Han grunted. “Wedge? We’re pulling out. Stay with us.”
“Copy, Falcon,” Wedge said. “You’ll have to give us a few minutes to calculate the jump back.”
“Don’t bother,” Han said, swiveling around in his seat to key in the nav computer. “We’ll feed you the numbers from here.”
“Copy. Rogue Squadron: screen formation.”
“You know, I’m starting to get tired of this,” Han told Leia, swiveling back to face front. “I thought you said your Noghri pals were going to leave you alone.”
“This has nothing to do with the Noghri.” Leia shook her head, an odd half-felt tension stretching at her forehead. Was it her imagination, or were the Imperial ships surrounding Filve starting to break formation? “This is Grand Admiral Thrawn playing with his new Dark Force Dreadnaughts.”
“Yeah,” Han agreed quietly, and Leia winced at the momentary flash of bitterness in his sense. Despite everyone’s best efforts to persuade him otherwise, Han still considered it his own personal fault that Thrawn had gotten to the derelict Katana fleet ships—the so-called Dark Force—ahead of the New Republic. “I wouldn’t have thought he could get them reconditioned this fast,” Han added as he twisted the Falcon’s nose away from Filve and back toward deep space.
Leia swallowed. The strange tension was still there, like a distant malevolence pressing against the edges of her mind. “Maybe he has enough Spaarti cylinders to clone some engineers and techs as well as soldiers.”
“That’s sure a fun thought,” Han said; and through her tension Leia could sense his sudden change in mood as he tapped the comm switch. “Wedge, take a look back at Filve and tell me if I’m seeing things.”
Over the comm, Leia could hear Wedge’s thoughtful intake of air. “You mean like the whole Imperial force breaking off their attack and coming after us?”
“Yeah. That.”
“Looks real enough to me,” Wedge said. “Could be a good time to get out of here.”
“Yeah,” Hah said slowly. “Maybe.”
Leia frowned at her husband. There’d been something in his voice.… “Han?”
“The Filvians would’ve called for help before they put up their shield, right?” Han asked her, forehead furrowed with thought.
“Right,” Leia agreed cautiously.
“And the nearest New Republic base is Ord Pardron, right?”
“Right.”
“Okay. Rogue Squadron, we’re changing course to starboard. Stay with me.”
He keyed his board, and the Falcon started a sharp curve to the right. “Watch it, Falcon—this is taking us back toward that TIE fighter group,” Wedge warned.
“We’re not going that far,” Han assured him. “Here’s our vector.”
He straightened out the ship onto their new course heading and threw a look at the rear display. “Good—they’re still chasing us.”
Behind him, the nav computer beeped its notification that the jump coordinates were ready. “Wedge, we’ve got your coordinates,” Leia said, reaching for the data transmission key.
“Hold it, Falcon,” Wedge cut her off. “We’ve got company to starboard.”
Leia looked that direction, her throat tightening as she saw what Wedge meant. The approaching TIE fighters were coming up fast, and already were close enough to eavesdrop on any transmission the Falcon tried to make to its escort. Sending Wedge the jump coordinates now would be an open invitation for the Imperials to have a reception committee waiting at the other end.
“Perhaps I can be of assistance, Your Highness,’ Threepio offered brightly. “As you know, I am fluent in over six million forms of communication. I could transmit the coordinates to Commander Antilles in Boordist or Vaathkree trade language, for example—”
“And then you’d send them the translation?” Han put in dryly.
“Of course—” The droid broke off. “Oh, dear,” he said, sounding embarrassed.
“Yeah, well, don’t worry about it,” Han said. “Wedge, you were at Xyquine two years ago, weren’t you?”
“Yes. Ah. A Cracken Twist?”
“Right. On two: one, two.”
Outside the canopy, Leia caught a glimpse of the X-wings swinging into a complicated new escort formation around the Falcon. “What does this buy us?” she asked.
“Our way out,” Han told her, checking the rear display again. “Pull the coordinates, add a two to the second number of each one, and then send the whole package to the X-wings.”
“I see,” Leia nodded her understanding as she got to work. Altering the second digit wouldn’t change the appearance of their exit vector enough for the Imperials to catch on to the trick, but it would be more than enough to put any chase force a couple of light-years off target. “Clever. And that little flight maneuver they did just now was just window dressing?”
“Right. Makes anyone watching think that’s all there is to it. A little something Pash Cracken came up with at that fiasco off Xyquine.” Han glanced at the rear display again. “I think we’ve got enough lead to outrun them,” he said. “Let’s try.”
“We’re not jumping to lightspeed?” Leia frowned, an old and rather painful memory floating up from the back of her mind. That mad scramble away from Hoth, with Darth Vader’s whole fleet breathing down their necks and a hyperdrive that turned out to be broken …
Han threw her a sideways look. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. The hyperdrive’s working fine today.”
“Let’s hope so,” Leia murmured.
“See, as long as they’re chasing us they can’t bother Filve,” Han went on. “And the farther we draw them away, the longer the backup force’ll have to get here from Ord Pardron.”
The brilliant green flash of a near miss cut off Leia’s intended response. “I think we’ve given them all the time we can,” she told Han. Within her, she could sense the turmoil coming from her unborn twins. “Can we please get out of here?”
A second bolt spattered off the Falcon’s upper deflector shield. “Yeah, I think you’re right,” Han agreed. “Wedge? You ready to leave this party?”
“Whenever you are, Falcon,” Wedge said. “Go ahead—we’ll follow when you’re clear.”
“Right.” Reaching over, Han gripped the hyperdrive levers and pulled them gently back. Through the cockpit canopy the stars stretched themselves into starlines, and they were safe.
Leia took a deep breath, let it out slowly. Within her, she could still sense the twins’ anxiety, and for a moment she turned her mind to the job of calming them down. It was a strange sensation, she’d often thought, touching minds that dealt in emotion and pure sensation instead of pictures and words. So different from the minds of Han and Luke and her other friends.
So different, too, from the distant mind that had been orchestrating that Imperial attack force.
Behind her, the door slid open and Chewbacca came into the cockpit. “Good shooting, Chewie,” Han told the Wookiee as he heaved his massive bulk into the portside passenger seat beside Threepio. “You have any more trouble with the horizontal control arm?”
Chewbacca rumbled a negative. His dark eyes studying Leia’s face, he growled her a question. “I’m all right,” Leia assured him, blinking back sudden and inexplicable tears. “Really.”
She looked at Han, to find him frowning at her, too. “You weren’t worried, were you?” he asked. “It was just an Imperial task force. Nothing to get excited about.”
She shook her head. “It wasn’t that, Han. There was something else back there. A kind of …” She shook her head again. “I don’t know.”
“Perhaps it was similar to your indisposition at Endor,” Threepio offered helpfully. “You remember—when you collapsed while Chewbacca and I were repairing the—?”
Chewbacca rumbled a warning, and the droid abruptly shut up. But far too late. “No—let him talk,” Han said, his sense going all protectively suspicious as he looked at Leia. “What indisposition was this?”
“There wasn’t anything to it, Han,” Leia assured him, reaching over to take his hand. “On our first orbit around Endor we passed through the spot where the Death Star blew up. For a few seconds I could feel something like the Emperor’s presence around me. That’s all.”
“Oh, that’s all,” Han said sarcastically, throwing a brief glare back at Chewbacca. “A dead Emperor tries to make a grab for you, and you don’t think it’s worth mentioning?”
“Now you’re being silly,” Leia chided. “There was nothing to worry about—it was over quickly, and there weren’t any aftereffects. Really. Anyway, what I felt back at Filve was completely different.”
“Glad to hear it,” Han said, not yet ready to let it go. “Did you have any of the med people check you over or anything after you got back?”
“Well, there really wasn’t any time before—”