retorted. “In the nearest Peace Brigade safehouse.”
“Political affiliations are no longer a crime on Corellia, Solo.”
In the corner, the agent at the closet removed a datapad from Leia’s satchel, glanced around at the others in the room, then slipped it into his jumpsuit pocket. Leia tried again to point. This time, the effort ended in a metallic clatter as her arm, strapped in place and connected to a tangle of intravenous drip lines, rattled the bed’s safety rail. She settled for lifting her head to glare in the thief’s direction.
“Shtop.” The word was almost recognizable. “Thief!”
Han immediately stopped arguing with the CorSec officer and came to her side. With hollow cheeks and bags under his eyes, he looked exhausted.
“You’re awake,” he said, perhaps overstating the case. “How do you feel?”
“Terrible,” Leia said. Everything ached, and it felt like she had a hot power-feed around her legs. “That agent is stealing.”
She extended a finger toward the culprit, but the man’s officer had stepped to the foot of the bed, and it looked like she was pointing at him. Han and the others exchanged glances and appeared concerned.
“Pharmaceutical illusion,” Dr. Nimbi said. “Her perceptions will clear within the hour.”
“I am
not
having delusions.” Leia continued to shake her finger toward the unseen closet. “The other one. Going through my bag.”
The officer pivoted around to look, exposing the now closed closet and an innocent-looking subordinate.
Han squeezed her shoulder. “Forget it, Leia. We’ve got more important things to worry about than someone digging through your underwear.”
“She doesn’t need to hear that
now
, Han,” the doctor said. Heturned back to Leia with a comforting smile. “How do the legs feel? Any better?”
Leia ignored the question and demanded, “What things, Han?”
Han seemed baffled. He glanced at Dr. Nimbi, then said, “Nothing I can’t handle. Don’t worry.”
“When you tell me not to worry, that’s when I worry,” Leia said. Han had always been one of those men who navigated life more by instinct than by chart—it was one of the things she most loved about him—but his instincts since Chewbacca’s death had been carrying him into some very dangerous areas. Or perhaps the territory only seemed dangerous, lying as it did always farther from Leia. “What’s wrong?”
Han still seemed worried, but at least he had the sense to ignore Dr. Nimbi’s admonishing shake of the head. “Well,” he began, “you
do
remember where we are?”
Leia glanced at the emblems on the CorSec officer’s jumpsuit. “How could I forget?”
And then it hit her. The Corellians were calling them by their correct names. There were two CorSec agents standing in her hospital room, and Dr. Nimbi—a Jedi sympathizer with enough experience in such matters not to slip—was calling Leia by her real name. Their cover had been blown.
Something started to beep on the equipment behind the bed.
Dr. Nimbi held a scanner over Leia’s heart. “Leia, you need to calm yourself. Stress only reduces the chance of your body overcoming the infection.”
The beeping continued, and the nurse took a spray hypo off her tray. “Shall I prepare a—”
“That won’t be necessary.” Leia reached out with the Force and nudged the hypo—clumsily, but enough to make her point. “Clear?”
The astonished nurse dropped the hypo on the tray and huffed something about pushy Jedi witches, then raised her nose and started for the door—where she was met by a rising din of excited voices. The MD droid was threatening to notify security and protesting that the media were not permitted in the isolation ward, but the intruders were paying no attention. A sudden glow poured through the door as a holocrew’s lights illuminated thecorridor outside, and the flustered nurse came stumbling back into the room.
“Great,” Han muttered. “Thrackan.”
A bearded