# C H A P T E R 32

IT TOOK A WHILE LONGER after the Imperial fleet pulled out for the battle to be officially over. But with the Star Destroyers gone, the outcome was never in doubt.

The regular stormtroopers were the easiest. Most of them were dead already, killed when Lando’s activation of the mole miners had ruptured the airseals of their stolen ships and left them open to vacuum, and the rest were taken without much trouble. The eight remaining spacetroopers, whose zero-gee suits had allowed them to keep fighting after their ships were disabled, were another story entirely. Ignoring all calls to surrender, they fanned out through the shipyards, clearly intent on causing as much damage as they could before the inevitable. Six were hunted down and destroyed; the other two eventually self-destructed, one managing to cripple a Corvette in the process.

He left behind him a shipyard and orbit-dock facility in an uproar … and a great number of severely damaged major ships.

“Not exactly what you’d call a resounding victory,” Captain Afyon grunted, surveying what was left of the Larkhess’s bridge through a pressure bulkhead viewport as he gingerly adjusted a battle dressing that had been applied to his forehead. “Going to take a couple months’ work just to rewire all the control circuits.”

“Would you rather the Imperials have gotten it whole?” Han demanded from behind him, trying to ignore his own mixed feelings about this whole thing. Yes, it had worked … but at what cost?

“Not at all,” Afyon replied calmly. “You did what you had to—and I’d say that even if my own neck hadn’t been on the line. I’m just saying what others will say: that destroying all these ships in order to save them was not exactly the optimal solution.”

Han threw a look at Luke. “You sound like Councilor Fey’lya,” he accused Afyon.

The other nodded. “Exactly.”

“Well, fortunately, Fey’lya’s only one voice,” Luke offered.

“Yeah, but it’s a loud one,” Han said sourly.

“And one that a lot of people are starting to listen to,” Wedge added. “Including important military people.”

“He’ll find some way to parlay this incident into his own political gain,” Afyon rumbled. “You just watch him.”

Han’s rejoinder was interrupted by a trilling from the wall intercom. Afyon stepped over and tapped the switch. “Afyon here,” he said.

“Sluis Control communications,” a voice replied. “We have an incoming call from Coruscant for Captain Solo. Is he with you?”

“Right here,” Han called, stepping over to the speaker. “Go ahead.”

There was a slight pause; and then a familiar and sorely missed voice came on. “Han? It’s Leia.”

“Leia!” Han said, feeling a delighted and probably slightly foolish-looking grin spread across his face. A second later, though—“Wait a minute. What are you doing back on Coruscant?”

“I think I’ve taken care of our other problem,” she said. Her voice, he noticed for the first time, sounded tense and more than a little ragged. “At least for the moment.”

Han threw a frown across the room at Luke. “You think?”

“Look, that’s not important right now,” she insisted. “What’s important is that you get back here right away.”

Something cold and hard settled into Han’s stomach. For Leia to be this upset…“What’s wrong?”

He heard her take a deep breath. “Admiral Ackbar has been arrested and removed from command. On charges of treason.”

The room abruptly filled with a brittle silence. Han looked in turn at Luke, at Afyon, at Wedge. But there didn’t seem to be anything to say. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he told Leia. “Luke’s here, too—you want me to bring him?”

“Yes, if he can manage it,” she said. “Ackbar’s going to need all the friends he can get.”1

“Okay,” Han said. “Call me in the Falcon if there’s any more news. We’re heading over there right now.”

“I’ll see you soon. I love you, Han.”

“Me, too.”

He broke the connection, turned back to the others. “Well,” he said, to no one in particular. “There goes the hammer. You coming, Luke?”

Luke looked at Wedge. “Have your people had a chance to do anything with my X-wing yet?”

“Not yet,” Wedge said, shaking his head. “But it’s just been officially bumped to the top of the priority list. We’ll have it ready to fly in two hours. Even if I have to take the motivators out of my own ship to do it.”

Luke nodded and looked back at Han. “I’ll fly into Coruscant on my own, then,” he said. “Let me just come with you and get Artoo off the Falcon.”

“Right. Come on.”

“Good luck,” Afyon called softly after them.

And yes, Han thought as they hurried down the corridor toward the hatchway where the Falcon was docked; the hammer was indeed coming down. If Fey’lya and his faction pushed too hard and too fast—and knowing Fey’lya, he would almost certainly push too hard and too fast—

“We could be on the edge of a civil war here,” Luke murmured his thought back at him.

“Yeah, well, we’re not going to let that happen,” Han told him with confidence he didn’t feel. “We haven’t gone through a war and back just to watch some overambitious Bothan wreck it.”

“How are we going to stop him?”

Han grimaced. “We’ll think of something.”

To Be Continued…2