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with dirt and several different colors of blood. A black ichor trailed from the senator from Nyny. All three of his heads were tilted backward. If he wasn’t dead, he was close.
    Mon Mothma was bent over another senator, talking carefully. Han stopped long enough to tap her shoulder.
    “Leia?” he asked.
    Mon Mothma shook her head. She looked ten times older than she had that morning. “I haven’t seen her, Han.”
    He dodged the wounded, even though she shouted his name again. He knew what she would say. Exactly what Leia would say in this instance: Don’t go inside. Let the trained personnel deal with it. But his wife was missing. He’d find her himself.
    The large marble entrance was filled with dust, blood, and more bodies. Some were stacked against the wall like cargo. As he passed he realized those were droids. They weren’t even full droids, only pieces: arms in one corner, legs in another. He saw dozens of golden body parts and didn’t want to think about the possibility of Threepio being among the shattered.
    The blood and dirt had made the floor slippery. He slid across part of the floor, finally stopping when he reached the entrance to the Hall itself.
    All the doors were open, the emergency glow panels were on, and dust hovered in the air like a sandstorm on Tatooine. From inside, he heard wailing, moaning, and voices crying for help. Other voices mingled in the din, calling for assistance or giving orders. The medical personnel he had followed were already inside, as were dozens of guards and security people.
    A huge bomb had to have gone off here to do this kind of damage. Bigger than anything he had seen outside of a space battle. And this bomb couldn’t have come from space. The outside of the building was fine. This one had to have come from within.
    Then he saw Leia, drenched in blood, her white gown, white no longer, ripped and stuck to her frame. One braid had come loose and hung down her back. The other was half-undone, her beautiful brown hair tangled and matted as it fell along her face. She had her hands beneath the secondary bumps on an unconscious Llewebum. Two guards supported its feet. She limped as she moved backward, favoring her right leg.
    Han hurried to her side, placed his hands beside hers on the Llewebum’s ridged skin. “I’ve got it, sweetheart,” he said, but she didn’t seem to hear him. He bumped her slightly with his hip, and she let go. The weight of the Llewebum made him stagger. He didn’t know how she had supported it. He put the Llewebum beside one of its comrades, near a medical droid that was tagging all the cases according to degree of emergency. Then Han went back to Leia.
    She had started into the Hall again, but he put his arm around her waist and gently held her back.
    “I’m getting you medical care, sweetheart.”
    “Let me go, Han.”
    “You’ve helped enough. We’re going to the center.”
    She didn’t shake her head. She didn’t even look at him when he spoke. One entire side of her face wasbruised and her skin was covered with scorch marks. Her nose was bleeding and she didn’t even seem to notice.
    “I’ve got to go in there,” she said.
    “I’ll go in. You stay here.”
    “Let me go, Han,” she said again.
    “She can’t hear you,” one of the medical droids said as it passed. “A concussion of that size in an enclosed space damaged everyone with eardrums.”
    She couldn’t hear? Han gently turned her toward him, trying not to let his fear for her show on his face. “Leia,” he said slowly. “Help is here. Let me take you to the medical center.”
    Beneath the dirt, her skin was pale. “It’s my fault.”
    “No, sweetheart, it’s not.”
    “I let the Imperials in. I didn’t fight hard enough.”
    Her words chilled him. “We don’t know what caused this. Come on. Let me get you help.”
    “No,” she said. “My friends are dying in there.”
    “You’ve done all you can.”
    “Don’t be stubborn,” she