Book 18 - Force Heretic II - Refugee by Sean Williams & Shane Dix

Author:Sean Williams & Shane Dix [Williams, Sean & Dix, Shane]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Star Wars, Science Fiction, Fiction
ISBN: 9780345428714
Publisher: Del Rey
Published: 2003-04-29T07:00:00+00:00

Jaina’s eyes opened to bright light. She winced and recoiled from the sudden rush of information.

“Where am I?” she croaked, squinting around as she tried to sit up. Just these simple tasks caused every muscle in her body to cry out in pain, and she fleetingly wished she’d remained unconscious.

She appeared to be in a study of some kind, although the details were still hazy. The smell of leather was strong in her nostrils, and her questing fingers quickly discovered the plush couch beneath her.

“Welcome back, Jaina.”

She turned slightly in the direction of the voice and made out a vague, green-faced blur standing by what appeared to be a door. She hadn’t really needed to look, though; she knew who the voice belonged to.

“Salkeli, you treacherous little—”

“It’s not there,” someone else said when her hand crept down to her side in search of her lightsaber. The voice was familiar, but a name didn’t immediately spring to mind. “It’s all right. No harm will come to you—if you behave yourself, that is.”

She felt naked without her lightsaber, especially in such a weakened state. Two stun bolts so close together had left her nervous system profoundly scrambled. Her eyes were only slowly remembering how to focus. Her lightsaber wasn’t all that was missing, either; her comlink was gone, along with everything else that might have enabled her to call for help.

She forced herself to sit up straighter, turning to face the second person. He, too, was just a blur, but he wasn’t to know that.

“Salkeli said someone wanted to talk to me,” she said. “I presume that someone is you.”

Whoever he was, he was seated behind a wide desk and dressed in richly red garments. “You presume correctly.”

“So where exactly am I?” she asked again, glancing around the confines of the room, hoping for something familiar to fall into place.

“You are in my private chambers,” the man answered. “These rooms are soundproofed and protected against all forms of electronic infiltration. The door is blast-proof, and its lock can only be opened by my thumbprint.” The leather of his chair squeaked beneath him as he leaned back into it, obviously trying to exude a calm and confident air. “Trust me when I say that you will not be leaving here without my consent.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that impression,” she said, looking around again. Her depth of field was gradually returning, allowing her to make things out more clearly. The study was lavishly appointed; polished wood cupboards containing delicate crystal ornaments—small glasses and bowls, mostly, some of them veined with bright colors—lined the walls. The beauty of the objects, however, was somewhat diminished by Salkeli standing in front of them, his green face staring back at her with an expression of extreme smugness.

When she returned her gaze to the person sitting behind the desk, her vision had snapped back into focus. Long-boned and sharp-eyed, Deputy Prime Minister Blaine Harris looked at her with a questioning look on his face.

“Well?” he asked, arms outstretched imploringly. “Will you cooperate?”

She kept her surprise carefully in check.

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