Free Apocalypse by Troy Denning

away, was a crooked gray box, and the long line of beings emerging from it were shapeless swirls in the fog. The rest of the convoy—eleven Olanjii
Sharmok-
class troop transports arrayed at various points around the parade ground—were not visible at all.
    It was going to be a tough run—maybe the toughest run Han Solo had ever made. The Sith were going to send the best pilots they had, and in the dense fog their Force abilities would more than neutralize the Hapan advantage in equipment and training. The sooner the convoy ran for the safety of the Battle Dragons’ turbolaser umbrella, the better its chances of survival would be.
    Han activated the intercom and opened a channel to the
Falcon
’s rear freight ramp. “Are we loaded yet?”
    The din of a hold being loaded quickly came over the cockpit speaker, then Leia said, “Almost, Han.”
    “That’s what you said ten minutes ago.”
    “Ten minutes
is
almost,” Leia said. “We’re working as fast as we can back here.”
    “Well, work faster,” Han said. “I don’t like this fog. Things can hide in it.”
    “Things like
us
, Captain Solo,” a silky Hapan voice said. “Will you stop worrying? You’re beginning to show your age.”
    “Sweetheart, you’re confusing age and experience again,” Han replied, deliberately using a term that would rile a proud Hapan woman like Taryn Zel. “And my experience tells me that if you don’t get moving back there, we won’t
have
a chance to hide. We’ve been on the ground thirty minutes already.”
    Leia’s voice came over the speaker, sharp as a vibroknife. “Han, how many students are we collecting?”
    “Three hundred and twenty-two,” Han replied. He had been over the logistics of the operation a hundred times, trying to convince himself they could get it done before the Sith arrived from their not-so-secret staging base in the Colsassan moons. “But that’s only twenty-six point eight students
per transport
. It shouldn’t take—”
    “And how many family members do they have?” Leia interrupted.
    “Nine hundred and twenty-three,” Han said. “It still shouldn’t take—”
    “And support staff?”
    “Twelve hundred, give or take,” Han said. “But they were supposed to be—”
    “And how many thousands of tons of matériel are we loading?”
    “Don’t talk to me about the matériel,” Han said. “I wanted to vape that stuff.”
    “And replace it with what?” Leia demanded. “The academy is moving—perhaps permanently. People are going to need a place to sleep. The students are going to need training equipment. The technicians are going to need tools and parts, and we don’t have the resources—”
    “All right, all right,” Han interrupted. He knew Leia’s side of the argument as well as his own. With the GA government in the hands ofthe Sith, the days of unlimited funding were gone. The Jedi Order was going to need everything it could carry off of Ossus. “I just wish we didn’t have to take
everything
.”
    “It wouldn’t be a problem if you hadn’t insisted on waiting until the last minute,” Taryn pointed out. “Commander Luvalle wanted to start this operation four hours ago.”
    “What she
wanted
to do was spoil Luke’s play on Coruscant,” Han retorted. During the planning session, he and Luvalle had butted heads repeatedly, with the commander arguing that thirty minutes on the ground wasn’t enough time, while Han insisted they couldn’t begin the evacuation until
after
the Jedi had launched the attack on Coruscant. “How sure are you
she
isn’t Sith?”
    “Quite sure, Captain Solo.” There was a coolness in Taryn’s voice that suggested she had better things to do than defend the commander’s reputation. “If you don’t mind, we’re busy back here. Princess Leia will inform you when the cargo is stowed.”
    A sharp
pop
sounded from the speaker, and then the intercom fell silent. Han’s jaw dropped, and he spun around in the pilot’s chair,