Half a dozen stormtroopers and a junior lieutenant manned the observation post. The officer nodded to Han as they walked by, then shot a questioning look at Scarlet. Han shrugged and rolled his eyes in a what-are-you-going-to-do gesture. The officer smiled and shrugged back, a gesture of solidarity. Yeah, just a couple of low-ranking whip crackers, doing their bit for the glory of the Empire. It left Han feeling dirty.
No one stopped them until they reached the entrance to the Imperial Intelligence Service Center. The doors were massive and metallic, and looked as if they could stop a blast from a Star Destroyer–grade turbolaser. And while they were open when Han and Scarlet arrived, they were also guarded by a full score of stormtroopers and two officers, one of whom stood next to a large red button on the wall. Han guessed the button would set off the alarm and slam the blast doors shut fast enough to cut a bantha in half.
“Halt,” one of the officers said, holding up an imperious hand. The stormtroopers stood behind him in postures of boredom, though their helmets hid their faces. “Identification.”
“Lieutenant Sololo,” Han said, handing over his freshly minted identity card and trying to match the boredom of the guards.
“Choya Sebastiao,” Scarlet said after the guard looked up from Han’s card at her. “Environmental tech, third class.”
“Business?”
“Ventilation failure,” Scarlet said, tapping one hand on the tools in her belt.
“It’s in a secured area,” Han added. “So guess who gets to waste his day watching her pull cable and patch ventilation holes?”
“We can have one of our people escort her,” the officer said. Oops, Han thought, may have overplayed the annoyed card.
“No, no, I’m already here. You men keep doing, you know, guarding. That’s important work.” Han gave the man a smile and a nod.
“They check out,” the officer said, and the knot of stormtroopers parted to let them through.
“See?” Scarlet whispered once they were in and walking down a long hallway toward the turbolifts. “No problem.”
“Saying ‘no problem’ is a sure sign that everything is about to go terribly wrong,” Han said.
He hit the lift button, and a mechanism on the other side of the doors whirred to life.
“I’m so glad I brought you along to tell me these things,” Scarlet replied.
A man in civilian clothes walked down a side hall and came to stand next to them. He was short, thick through the middle, and balding. He smiled at them without ever meeting their eyes and then rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet whistling tunelessly. When the lift arrived, Han let Scarlet enter first, then stepped in after her and put a hand on the man’s chest. “Take the next one.”
“What? I—” the man started but the doors snapped shut and cut off whatever else he was about to say.
“He might complain to someone,” Scarlet said as they rode up.
“Naw, he’s a good citizen of the Empire. If he started complaining every time an officer was rude to him, he wouldn’t have time for anything else.”
“Or they’d shoot him,” Scarlet said.
“Or that.”
Scarlet began pulling tools off her belt and out of her sleeves for the job to come. Cutters, sensors, the grapnel for climbing the long shaft up to the security level. Each tool exactly the right one for the job, each perfectly maintained and ready for use. Han thought of the random boxes of tools lying around the Falcon and made a mental note to have Chewbacca clean up a bit before they boarded.
The lift doors snapped open, revealing a long Imperial-gray corridor with many smaller doors leading off to either side. “Lots of places to get ambushed in here,” Han said, dropping his hand to rest on the butt of his blaster.
“It’s eleven doors up on the right,” Scarlet whispered, and headed off down the corridor at a fast walk. Han followed, looking over his shoulder as he went.
“What are you doing on this level?” a voice demanded, and Han’s head whipped around. A high-ranking Imperial officer stood looking at Scarlet with open disdain, his arms crossed behind his back and his chest puffed out with authority. Scarlet lowered her gaze and tried to walk past him. He stepped in front of her, blocking the path with his body. “I said, what are you doing on this level? No non-military personnel above level ten at any time.”
“Well, I—” Scarlet said, but the officer turned his attention to Han.
“You! You should know the regulations regarding non-military personnel on secured levels. Who’s your commanding officer?”
“Sir,” Han replied, trying for a meek and chastened tone of voice. “This is just to fix a ventilation thing—”
“Captain!” the officer bellowed. “I will be addressed as captain, Lieutenant.” He managed to squeeze more contempt into the word lieutenant than Han would have thought possible.
“Yes, Captain, sir. I was just saying—”
“You,” the captain said, spinning on his heel to thrust his chin at Scarlet, “are under arrest. I will have you in a detention cell and talking to an interrogator droid before the hour is out.”
“I think that’s a mistake,” Han said.
“And you,” the captain continued, spinning back to Han, “will be lucky not to be shot for dereliction of duty. Give me your commanding officer’s name. I plan to have him here immediately to deal with you.”
Han gave the captain his most disarming smile and moved to draw his blaster. Time to take care of the loudmouthed idiot once and for all. The idea felt like coming home.
Before Han’s weapon had even cleared his holster, the captain spun sideways and threw his own head against the corridor wall. Scarlet was standing behind him, hands raised and knees bent. It took Han several long heartbeats before he realized she was in a fighting stance.
The captain rebounded from the wall, staggering back toward her, stunned and unsteady on his feet. Scarlet snapped her right foot up into his stomach, dropping him to his knees with a loud whuff. She kicked him again, this time between the shoulder blades, and dropped him to the floor. She dived onto his back and locked her arms around his neck. The captain struggled feebly for a few seconds, then went limp.
Scarlet stood up, her cheeks flushed with exertion, but looking none the worse for wear.
“Is he dead?” Han asked.
“Put your blaster away,” Scarlet replied. “If you fire it in here, every alarm goes off.”