“Get us out of here, Tee-six,” she said. “Set a course for Vulta, in the Mid Rim.”
She knew someone there, once. She hoped he was still there. If anyone could get her to Coruscant, it was the Z-man.
The droid beeped agreement, and the Raven’s engines lifted it from the pad.
She looked down one last time to see Vollen gathering her robes with the same delicacy he might use to bear a fallen comrade.
* * *
Malgus replayed the exchange with Adraas and Angral again and again in his mind. His anger remained unabated when he stepped off the lift onto the roof of the Senate Building and strode toward his transport, ignoring the guards who saluted him as he stalked past. The transport pilot waited on the lowered landing ramp.
“You received a location from Darth Angral?” Malgus asked the pilot. “A hospital?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Take me there.”
He boarded the transport, the doors whispered closed, and the ship soon lifted off into the hazy destruction of Coruscant’s night sky. They did not have far to fly. In under a quarter hour the pilot’s voice carried over the intercom.
“Coming up on the facility now, my lord. Where shall I set down?”
Below, Malgus saw the multistoried rectangle of the medical facility. Swoops, aircars, speeders, and medical transports crowded the artificially lit landing pad on its roof. Dozens of people moved among the vehicles—doctors, nurses, medics, the wounded. Bodies lay on gurneys here and there.
On the ground level the scene was much the same. Vehicles and people clotted the artery of the road and a mass of people thronged the main entrance to the facility.
“Set down at ground level,” Malgus ordered.
Some of the people on the roof noticed the transport’s Imperial markings. Faces stared skyward, uncertain,