Honor Among Thieves

When it was over, he pulled Scarlet and Baasen back to their feet and yelled, “Keep moving!” He could barely hear himself. There was just a high-pitched whine that seemed to be bouncing around inside his skull.

“Keep up or you’ll get left behind, Red,” Baasen shouted at the little R3. Its stable three-legged design had kept it on its feet during the blast, but it was having difficulty pushing its way through the crowd.

“Forget it,” Han yelled.

Baasen followed him, a grin on his face but his skin flushed a deeper green with fear. “That last one was close, eh?” he said, trying to make the words light.

As if in answer, another ripple of blasts echoed through the corridor, though they sounded farther off. Scarlet finally reached the side door to the hotel and burst through into the conference center’s garden space.

All three of them looked up. Even something as vast as a Star Destroyer was too small to be seen clearly in orbit, but the ships could be spotted as the origin points of the massive laser and plasma blasts that were streaking out of the sky and pounding the planet. A barrage of fire hit the mountain next to the conference center a dozen times, blowing starship-sized chunks of rock off the mountainside and raining them down on the buildings below.

“They appear to be upset, poor lambs,” Baasen said. Even he seemed stunned by the level of violence the Empire was raining down on them. A few mountaintop batteries fired up into the air, golden plasma fire leaving trails of black smoke behind them as they rose.

“Through here,” Scarlet said, and tugged Han after her into a side entrance in the conference center. Baasen tagged along, still staring up at the sky with a dazed look.

Han recognized the massive meeting room where Leia had delivered her big speech. It was crowded with fleeing conference members who’d all had the same idea he’d had to stay off the street. He hoped Leia was already off the planet.

As they rushed through the room and down the long corridors that led to the docks, the ground shook, blast after blast falling from the sky. The air in the city stank of smoke and dust. Over the top of the defense alarm and the shriek and rumble of bombardment came new sounds: the throb of starship engines and the scream of supersonic flight.

“Everybody’s leaving,” Han said.

“Good,” Scarlet replied, and pulled him down a side corridor he didn’t recognize. “Underground shortcut to the docks.”

They’d gone a few hundred meters through the new hallway when they reached a massive metal shield door, closed and locked.

“Good shortcut,” Han said, and started looking for another path. “Were you planning for this?”

“Just watch my back,” Scarlet replied, and pulled out her compact cutting torch.

Baasen turned to face the corridor behind them and drew his blaster. He held Maas’s case close to his chest with the stump of his wrist. “No reason to shoot anyone,” Han said, pushing the man’s arm down. “Everyone left is just trying to get away like we are. Unless you can shoot down a Star Destroyer with that thing.”

“Almost there,” Scarlet said over her shoulder, her face framed by the bright blue glow of the torch.

“Might want to—” Han started, and then time seemed to skip. He found himself lying on his back in the corridor, grit and small bits of stone covering him. The hallway was filled with a cloud of dust that stung his eyes when he opened them. He coughed uncontrollably for a few seconds, though he could barely hear himself over the renewed ringing in his ears.

“They’re getting closer,” Baasen yelled at him, sounding like a very small voice a long way off. The Mirialan was climbing to his feet, brushing off the rubble that covered him. Scarlet was on her knees by the door, patting the floor to find her cutting torch.

“Almost there,” she repeated, her voice shaky but loud. She picked up the torch and resumed her work.

Something shadowy moved toward them in the dusty corridor. Han reached for his blaster and came up empty. There was nothing in his holster. He frantically searched the floor for his weapon. By the time he found it, Baasen was saying, “Well, I’ll be damned. Red made it.”

The little R3 rolled to a stop a few feet away and trilled out a series of notes at them.

“Great,” Han said. “Now everything’s just fine.”

“These things are handy,” Baasen said reproachfully. Then to the droid he said, “Help get this door open.”

The droid rolled up next to Scarlet, and soon there were two bright blue points of light cutting through the locks.

“See?”

“I stand corrected,” Han said.

A few moments later the door pinged with a metallic snapping sound. Han and Baasen grabbed it and pulled it open. On the other side was a long access corridor for the conference center’s infrastructure. Conduits of heavy cabling, ducting, environmental systems, and piping covered the walls.

Another barrage shook the hallway, raining down dust from above. A pipe buckled in the corridor ahead, and steam began pouring into the space.

“Time to go,” Scarlet said, and trotted off down the hallway.

Han followed, still wondering where Leia was. Surely she’d been in one of the first ships out. They’d given her enough warning. If something had gone wrong, if she was somewhere in the bombardment … Han tried to imagine explaining to the Rebel Alliance that he’d left her behind, that she’d died on Kiamurr. Or worse, explaining it to Luke. Or facing himself in the morning, knowing he could have tried but hadn’t. He suppressed a shudder and kept running.

“Scarlet!” he shouted. “Leia’s already gone, right? She’s left the planet.”

“I hope not,” Scarlet called back over her shoulder.

“What do you mean you hope not? Why do you hope not?”

Scarlet ran and he followed. The service corridor ended at a long flight of steps up, and a door out onto the flight tarmac. Outside they could see the steady stream of ships launching from the docks, desperately trying to get off the doomed planet. As they emerged from the stairwell, a heavy transport lifted slowly off the field, just starting to get some speed. A turbolaser blast nearly cut the ponderous ship in half. It twisted sideways, trailing black smoke from the mortal wound in its side, its engines rising in a dying scream as the ship crashed back down and exploded into a rain of shrapnel.

“Gods be with us,” Baasen said, face paling almost to yellow as he watched the ship die.