Star Wars - Planet Of Twilight (3 page)

Do not trust Ashgad, the message had said.

She had sent for them, secretly, just before departure. There were some risks greater than schism in the Council.

“Technically, it is living flesh, though,” said Leia thoughtfully.

"They're synthdroids, Ezrakh. I've seen them in the pleasure domes on Hesperidium and Carosi. Sculpted synthflesh over metal armatures.

They have only minimal internal computers; their actions are centrally controlled, probably from Ashgad's ship, because I don't know of any technology that would transmit from as far away as Chorios itself."

She folded her arms, and a small dark line appeared between the sharp brushstrokes of her brow. “And as far as I know, they're very, very expensive. Would you just make sure for me that they do get on their vessel?”

The Noghri inclined his head, but not before she saw the wrinkle of amused comprehension in his eyes. “Gshkaath already sees to it, Lady.”

Maybe the message she had received had prejudiced her, she thought, shaking her head. It was something she tried daily to guard herself against, but personal prejudice could never entirely be discounted.

The Noghri started to withdraw--they tended to keep themselves separate from the Academy honor guard, who were among the few even aware of their presence on the ship--but Leia raised her hand impulsively.

“What about Master Dzym?” she asked. “How does he smell to you?”

Ezrakh hesitated a moment, weighing the question, the folds of his leathery gray face tightening. Then he made a sign of negation. “His smell is a human smell. I do not like him either, Lady--I do not like his eyes--but he smells as other humans do.”

Leia nodded, a little comforted. “Will you come with me?” she asked.

"And you, Marcopius, if you would. She smiled to one of the young Academy guards. It wasn't their fault, she knew, that the hunter-killers of Honoghr could slice a potential assassin to pieces before a human--particularly these youths--could unlimber a blaster rifle, nor was it the fault of the Academy guards that she could not risk any possibility of threat while on this mission. Throughout the trip she had been very careful to keep the Academy guards in their usual position at her side, and to emphasize to them that the Noghri were only a backup, a holdout weapon against unexpected catastrophe.

And as Luke would say, there was no way of telling which group might be her salvation in a crisis.

At the turbolifts she touched the summon switch, and when she nd her two guards were within the car, toggled the controls for the shuttlecraft hangar deck.

Do not meet with Ash`gad.

Down on the Borealis shuttle deck, Luke Skywalker turned the slip of fiimsiplast over in his hands.

It was small, about the length and width of two fingers, the semi-transparent stuff used for packing and wrapping delicate objects for shipping. It had been carefully but unevenly torn from a larger piece and wadded tight in the innards of a cheap music box in fact.

The words were written in graphite marker, such as his uncle had used to mark rocks and scrap metal out in the field.

The tune the box played was an old one, a song about a beleaguered queen and her three magical birds.

The handwriting was Callista's.

Do not trust him or accede to any demand that he makes. Above all, do not ,go to the Meridian sector.

Callista

His heart was a slow battering ram against the inside of his ribs.

He barely heard the quick, soft beeping at his side as the astromech droid Artoo-Detoo emerged from around the airfoil of the modified B-xwing that rose like a suspended wall in the rear corner of the deck-six shuttlecraft bay. See-Threepio, protocol droid extraordinaire, followed close behind, golden carapace shining in the soft light. “According to Artoo, all systems appear to be in flying order, Master Luke,” stated the protocol droid in his prissy mechanical tenor. “But personally, I should be much happier were you to take a larger craft with greater oxygen capacity.”

Luke nodded absently, “Thanks, Threepio.” But in fact his attention never left the slip of plast in his hand, the bold, firm, slightly old-fashioned writing across its face.

He was seeing the snows of Hoth, and the way Callista's lightsaber had vied with the ice planet's dim sunlight for brightness. Seeing the ruined bunker there and how the ice had glittered in the smoke-brown tousle of her hair. Remembering what it had been to fight at her side, more a part of him than his own hand or arm; knowing which way she'd turn, or lunge, or drive the snow monsters into his blade.

With the memories of the snow were the warm scents of night on Yavin Four, and of lying in each other's arms on the hillside above the jungles, counting stars. Callista had explained to him with great solemnity why it had seemed so logical for her and two other Jedi apprentices, thirty-three years ago--in another body, another life--to try to concoct the illusions of ghosts haunting an old drift station on Bespin to puzzle their Master and why this had turned out to be not such a good idea after all.

He hurt with wanting her. Missing her. Needing her.

i realized I could not come back to you. I'm sorry, Luke.

The blazing glare of the monster ship, the Knight Hammer, and all the hopes of the renegade Admiral Daala's fleet, crashing in flames . . .

His own voice crying Callista's name. I have my own odyssey . . .

The warm, boyish, husky voice coming to him from the recording, the gray eyes in the ghostly oval of her face.

I'm sorry, Luke . . .

The shuttle deck of the Borealis was quiet. Only a few security officers stood around the antiquated Seinar system brig that had brought Seti Ashgad over from the Light of Reason, talking with the brig's graying, downtrodden-looking pilot, their white-and-silver ceremonial blaster rifles slung on their backs. Ashgad had arrived with only his secretary, his pilot, and three synthdroids; and Luke could have reassured his sister's guards that it was not physically possible for a Seinar brig to carry more than six humans. Seinar brigs--particularly the old H-10s like that one--were the staple of small-system personnel transport.

Luke had taken apart and put together enough of them in his youth on Tatooine to know there wasn't a compartment big enough to tuck a Ranat into, let alone anything human or human size.

The vessel was in good shape, but the metal was patched, pitted, and old. If Seti Ashgad, who according to Leia was one of the wealthiest men on Nam Chorios, could obtain no better, it was little wonder he was willing to join up with the Rationalist Party to try to better conditions on the planet.

He turned the message in his fingers again.

The music box, a cheap and ingenious mechanical contraption without a chip in it, had been forwarded from Atraken, but analysis of the peculiar crystalline dust beneath the nailheads securing the panel behind which the message had been found had revealed that it had been put together on Nam Chorios.

Callista was on Nam Chorios.

Or had been, when she sent the message.

Artoo beeped again, more quietly. Artoo-Deetoo was the only droid Luke had ever encountered who seemed to be able to sense human moods.

See-Threepio would catch on eventually if the problem were translated into binary and jacked at full-blast into his receptors-and would then feel and express genuine sympathy--but Artoo just seemed to know'.

Luke sighed and patted the little droid's domed cap, as if it were a pittin's head. Through the gaping maw' of the magnetically shielded shuttle port, the violet-white speck that was Nam Chorios's primary glimmered against the powdery banners of starlight and galactic dust.

There was something about it. A curious tingling in the Force that Luke could feel even at this distance. What it might be, he didn't know.

Do not meet with Ashgad Do not go to the Meridian sector.

“Can I be of any further assistance, Master Luke?” Threepio's voice was diffident. Luke made himself smile, and shook his head.

“No. Thanks.”

“According to my internal chronometers, Her Excellency's meeting with Master Ashgad should be concluding now. Normal departure protocols occupy on the average twenty minutes, and you did express a desire to be away from the Borealis before Master Ashgad returns to the shuttle bay.”

Luke glanced at the chronometer on the wall, an automatic gesture, since he knew- Threepio's internals were accurate to two or three beats of atomic vibration. “Right. Thank you. Both of you.” He hesitated, then slid the plast into the pocket of his gray flightsuit.

“Good luck, Master Luke,” said Threepio. He hesitated a moment, then added, “Given an estimated population of less than one million humans, and no indigenous life forms on Nam Chorios, chances of locating Lady Callista within a standard year should be well within the seventeenth percentile.”

Luke made himself smile again. “Thanks.” And the seventeenth percentile--in a year--wasn't bad. Not when you considered how vast even the known portion of the galaxy was. It had been a year already, since the Knight Hammer had plunged blazing into the atmosphere of Yavin 4.

At least he had it narrowed down to one planet.

If she were still there. Why Nam Chorios?

He was turning toward the ladder that led up to the B-wing's hatch when the main bay doors opened. His sister entered, golden boot tips flashing beneath her figured gown and the great state robe of ruby velvet spreading behind her like a thranta's wings with the speed of her stride. The young Academy midshipman who accompanied her everywhere fell back and stood near the door; as Luke held out his hands to her he glimpsed the Noghri Ezrakh, lurking almost unseen in the shadows.

“So, did he whip out an ion cannon and try to murder you?”

Leia grinned, but the smile was a wan one and disappeared almost at once as she shook her head. "There's just--I don't know. Maybe it's because he looks so much like the holos I've seen of his father. I sympathize with his cause--him and the Newcomers on that planet.

But it's out of our jurisdiction.“ She looked over at the brig and did a double take. ”He came in that?"

“He's not kidding about those gun stations.” Luke gestured to the long char on the brig's side. “A b-Wing should be just small enough to get past the screens.”

There was a moment's silence, awkward, neither knowing quite what to say. To break it, Luke fished in his pocket for Callista's message.

“You need this for anything? Analysis.”

“Keep it.” She put her hands on his shoulders, drew him down to kiss his cheek. “We've got all we can out of it. It may tell you something about where to find her, once you get down there.”

There was silence. Then, “She's got to come back,” said Luke softly.

“She'll stand a better chance of regaining the ability to use the Force at the Jedi academy than she will on her own. We have all the records that are still in existence, all the training aids you found on Belsavis. The Jedi power has to be still within her somewhere. Cray had it. It isn't as if Callista's mind went into the body of a non-Jedi. And the Academy needs her.”

Leia was silent.

“I need her.”

“You'll find her.” Still she held his hands, willing him to feel a reassurance she did not share. She had never seen her brother happier than during the time he'd spent with that quirky, silent, gentle lady A Jedi Knight reincarnated without her powers. A woman who had been a ghost and lived again.

But she'd been with Callista on Belsavis, when she'd realized that her ability to use and touch the Force had not carried over into the body that Dr. Cray Mingla had bequeathed to her. She'd watched the woman's grief, frustration, and slow-growing despair; had talked to her about things that could not be said by either one to Luke.

Luke would find her, Leia thought sadly. Somehow she knew that much.

But to what end?

“You'd better go,” she said. “Luke--When you're down there, look around, will you? According to Ashgad, the Theran cultists who control the gun stations use coercion and superstition to rule the Oldtimer population.”

As Leia spoke, she followed Luke to the corner, where he'd stacked the supplies he'd take with him a water bottle, a small medkit, wheretablets. They'd chosen a B-wing over the smaller X-wing fighter partly because of the nearness of the pirate-nests on Pedducis Chorios, but partly because of Callista's warning. The three systems had been scanned repeatedly, and reported clear. But Leia still felt uneasy. A B-wing could take on a much larger ship in a fight, but it was perilously close to the estimated automatic target mass of the gun stations.

“Now, if it's just superstition, there's nothing we can do about that,” she went on. “It's their free choice, and they voted overwhelmingly to keep the original trade restrictions in force. But if there's coercion involved, that may change the Rationalists' case. We may be able to negotiate. Moff Getdies still rules the Antemeridian sector 'in the name of the Emperor, and it isn't that far away.”

That had been yet another reason for choosing a B-wing.

“If fighting breaks out between the Newcomers and the Therans, he may try to interfere. We've got a pretty strong force at the Durren orbital base, but I'd rather not have to use it.”

Luke nodded. She stood below, looking up as Luke climbed the long, fragile ladder up the side of the airfoil and began working the bottles and packets into every spare cranny of the cockpit. In the days of the Rebellion, and during the long mopping up of sporadic warfare with the various Moll and Governors and self-proclaimed Grand Admirals of the Empire, he'd participated in space battles and dogfights without number. Given the presence of Imperial Warlords and a sizable Imperial fleet still under the control of those who longed for the old regime, he supposed he'd take part in hundreds more. But more and more, in the back of his mind, was a growing regret, and a terrible sense of waste.

“i'll keep an eye out,” he said. He climbed back down to her, and zipped up the light, tough fabric of his suit. “Being incognito should help.” He glanced across at the brig, its pilot still in conversation with the guards. The dispatch of an escort vessel would rouse very little curiosity, given the proximity of Pedducis Chorios.