Star Wars: The Courtship of Princess Leia Read online

  “Might I remind you that this is an interdicted planet?” Han said. “And we have a sky full of Imperial destroyers above us who are no doubt arming missiles at this very moment in hopes of blasting us to pieces.”

  “Affirmative,” Isolder said. “We’re working on it!”

  “I don’t want you to work on it,” Han said. “I want you to get those generators out of there—now!”

  “I’ll go help,” Luke said, and he hurried down the corridor. Teneniel was still standing by the hatch, looking at the door. Her face was pale. She glanced away guiltily.

  “I’m sorry,” she told Luke. “I won’t let it happen again.”

  Luke nodded, crawled down into the hold, up into a snug corner of the right sensor array fork. Isolder had already unbolted two generators from the mounts, and he had a huge wrench and tried vainly to loosen another bolt. Leia was pulling on the generators, trying to squeeze them past Isolder’s body.

  “Pull those generators out of the way if you can,” Luke urged Isolder, firing up his lightsaber. “Leia, get up there and cap the coolant.” Luke slashed the heads off the remaining six bolts, then gave the last two generators a good kick. Both of them tumbled off the mounts. He and Isolder dragged the generators up to the main deck. They worked desperately to wrestle them onto the hatch gate, and just as they got the last one up, Leia finished capping the barrels of coolant. They dragged all the coolant to the hatch at once.

  “Evacuate ship!” Han called over the intercom.

  He had hardly said the words when he ran out from the cockpit. “We’ll be flying over a lake in about thirty seconds. I saw it on my screens!”

  Han hit the open latch on the hatch, and as the entry ramp dropped away, the coolant and generators went spilling out. Luke was surprised to see that they were only traveling five meters above ground at perhaps sixty kilometers per hour.

  A blast rocked the ship, and Han looked up. “Those Star Destroyers know we’re here. Let’s hope the shields can hold for thirty seconds.”

  A sudden barrage sent the ship bouncing, and Isolder grabbed the sensory array window and slipped down the ramp. He caught himself halfway, dropped the window, tried crawling back. A second barrage rocked the ship, sent him sliding farther.

  Leia screamed, grabbed his hand. Moon-silvered water flashed beneath them, and Luke grabbed Teneniel’s hand and pulled her from the ship. All five of them dropped together.

  Luke plunged into the water, and his feet hit mud. He bobbed back up to the surface, looked around desperately for the others. Teneniel came up beside him, Han and Leia twenty yards away. Beyond them, Isolder floated up on his back.

  Leia swam for Isolder. Luke looked out at the ship, flying over the lake. After several more missile hits, the shields died, and the ship exploded in a green fireball that mushroomed up into the night.

  Luke swam to Leia and Isolder, found Isolder’s face muddy. He’d hit the shallows and was coughing dirty water. “He’s lucky he didn’t snap his neck,” Leia said.

  Luke touched him, felt life still strong in him. “He’ll be all right.”

  They walked a hundred yards through the shallows, lay down on the beach. Luke could feel a tremor in the Force, like a thin probing finger of thought, Gethzerion stretching out with her mind, trying to find them. They were less than ten kilometers from the city, in fairly clear view, and the Nightsisters had surely seen the ship blow up, but Gethzerion was using the Force to search for survivors. Luke cleared his mind, let Gethzerion’s touch wander past him. He looked at Teneniel, saw her struggling for control. She suddenly relaxed, and Luke felt that the danger was over, at least temporarily. The probing touch moved out farther over the lake.

  “Well,” Leia panted. “That wasn’t so hard!”

  “Yeah,” Isolder agreed, still coughing. “Maybe we should go back, try it again.”

  “We need to hurry and get out of here,” Luke said. “Gethzerion will be sending stormtroopers to look for survivors and see if she can salvage the wreck. I don’t want them to find anything but our tracks.”

  Luke’s words seemed to sober the entire group. Luke tried to catch his breath.

  “Luke, let me see your macrobinoculars,” Han said. Luke reached down to his waterproof pouch, pulled out the macrobinoculars. Han lay panting, looking up into the sky.

  “What? What’s up there?” Isolder asked.

  “I don’t know,” Han said. “I saw it as we flew out. Something funny on the sensors.”

  “What?” Leia asked.

  “Satellites,” Han said, “Zsinj’s men have released thousands of satellites overhead.”

  “Like what?” Isolder asked. “Orbital mines?”

  “Maybe,” Han said. “Probably. Whatever they are, there’s a lot of them.”

  Leia looked up at the sky, searching among the stars. “I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” Luke followed her gaze. He could see the satellites, thousands of dim stars, as if the number of stars in the sky had doubled within the past few hours. He thought back, realized that the satellites must have been released near the same time he had his vision in the elevator. He closed his eyes, saw the vision again—eternal night.

  Chapter

  21

  A pale pink sun was just rising under clear skies and Luke was struggling to patch a breached container of coolant when the rancors came loping across the flats. The group had been working for less than fifteen minutes, and Luke sensed that they needed to leave soon. Gethzerion’s stormtroopers would be here in another half hour.

  Chewbacca bellowed in greeting, and Threepio shouted, “Oh, thank goodness we found you!” He turned to Chewie and Artoo. “See, I told you they would be all right. His Highness King Solo would never allow himself to get blown up!” His head swiveled back around. “So, what are you doing out here?”

  “We had to bail out of the ship before it got shot down,” Luke said. “But we broke open a canister of coolant. I put some steel tape on it, but I’m waiting for the adhesive to dry. We’re glad you showed up.”

  “I’m the one who found you,” Threepio bragged. “Thanks to my superior AA-one Verbobrain, I was able to crack that Imperial code!” Artoo squealed derisively, and Threepio added, “With Artoo’s help, of course. We were just on the way to the city to warn you!”

  Han grunted, sat down on the barrel. “Warn us of what, Mr. Verbobrain?”

  “Gethzerion!” Threepio said. “She planned to set some kind of trap for you!”

  “Yeah, we sort of figured that out on our own,” Han said, “when she sprung it.”

  “But there’s more,” Threepio said. “Show them the latest message, Artoo.”

  Artoo squealed, leaned forward on the rancor and focused his holo cams. Two images appeared on the mud flats standing side by side: Gethzerion and a young officer wearing the slate gray uniform that identified him as one of Zsinj’s generals.

  Gethzerion said, “General Melvar, you may inform Zsinj that we have captured General Han Solo, and we of the sisterhood await the shuttle he promised in trade.” The old witch stood silently, hands folded over her stomach. General Melvar calmly regarded her with a thrill-killer’s glimmering eyes, scratched his jaw with a platinum fingernail shaped like a claw. Such cuticle implants were costly and painful, and those who wore them often cut themselves accidentally. General Melvar had the thin white facial scars to prove it.

  “Warlord Zsinj has reconsidered his offer,” Melvar smiled coldly. “He wishes to express his sorrow at having had to bomb the ship that left your compound, but now that Solo’s Millennium Falcon has been destroyed, matters have changed. It was Solo’s ship that we destroyed?”

  Gethzerion nodded. Her eyes were half-closed, secretive.

  “Who was on it?” Melvar asked, his voice threatening.

  “Stormtroopers,” Gethzerion lied. “They saw that we were repairing the ship and tried to fly it before the repairs were completed. If you had not killed them, I would have
.”

  “I suspected as much,” Melvar smiled triumphantly. “Although I must admit that I had rather hoped you were aboard.” He took a deep breath. “So, you have General Solo, and you wish for a shuttle.”

  Gethzerion nodded stiffly, her dark hood hiding her eyes.

  “You realize that now that Solo’s ship has been annihilated,” Melvar said, “your bargaining position has weakened. Therefore, Warlord Zsinj wishes to make a counterproposal to your ratty band.”

  “As I fully expected,” Gethzerion answered. At this, the general averted his eyes, tried to hide his annoyance at being anticipated. She continued, “After all, it is well known even on our remote world that Warlord Zsinj never keeps his word when doing so might inconvenience him. I rather expected that he might scoff at releasing the Nightsisters from Dathomir. So tell me, what lesser bauble does he offer?”

  “Warlord Zsinj offers to retrieve General Solo from your sisterhood in thirty-six hours. He will be coming personally to collect the general. In return he will refrain from destroying your planet.”

  “So, he offers us nothing?” Gethzerion asked.

  “He offers you your lives,” Melvar grinned. “You should be grateful to receive even that.”

  “You do not understand the Nightsisters,” Gethzerion scoffed. “We don’t value our own lives. So you see, he offers us nothing of value.”

  “Nevertheless,” Melvar said, “we demand that you release Han Solo to us at once. Extinction is such a permanent condition. Take a few moments to decide.”

  “And you may tell Zsinj that we of the Nightsisters have an offer of our own: tell Zsinj that in return for our release from this world, our sisterhood will serve him.”

  Melvar’s eyes brightened with interest. “How can he be sure of your devotion?”

  “We will bring him our daughters and our granddaughters—all our females under the age of ten. He may keep them where he will, as his hostages. If we displease him, he may kill our children.”

  “Only a moment ago you admitted that life held no value for you,” Melvar argued. “If this is true, then wouldn’t it be reasonable to assume that you would sacrifice your own children to gain your freedom?”

  Gethzerion’s voice grew rough with emotion. She said softly, “No mother could be so evil. Tell Zsinj to consider our offer, as we must consider his.”

  The holograms flickered off, and Han stood up, looked around. “So,” Han said, “what do you think Zsinj has planned? Aerial bombardments, what?”

  Leia refrained from answering. “He said he’d destroy the planet—not just the Nightsisters or their city.” She breathed deeply. “Could he be working on something big?”

  “Like another Death Star?” Luke asked. “I don’t think so.”

  “I don’t know about this,” Han said. “Gethzerion’s playing Zsinj for a sucker—telling him that she’s taken me hostage, destroyed my ship. Obviously, she’ll do just about anything to get off this rock.”

  “And Zsinj sounds like he’s willing to do just about anything to get you,” Leia said.

  “Yeah,” Han agreed. “The really scary thing is, that if we could just introduce Gethzerion and Zsinj, they have so many personality traits in common that I think they’d really hit it off.”

  Leia looked at Han, frowning in concentration. “I don’t get it. Zsinj sure seems to want you bad, Han. Coming here personally? He’s going to an awful lot of trouble to extort the Nightsisters. What has he got against you?”

  Han scratched his jaw uncomfortably. From atop the rancor, Chewbacca roared, encouraging Han to continue. Somehow Luke knew it would be bad.

  “Well, you know after I destroyed his Super Star Destroyer, I sort of—well, called him personally on holo vid, and, uh, gloated.”

  “Gloated?” Leia asked. “What do you mean, gloated?”

  “I, uh, don’t remember the exact words, but I personally took credit for blowing up his ship and said something like, ‘Kiss my Wookiee!’ ”

  Chewbacca broke into deep laughter and nodded vigorously.

  “Let me get this straight,” Isolder asked. “You said ‘Kiss my Wookiee!’ to the most powerful warlord in the galaxy?”

  “All right! All right!” Han said, sitting down on the generator. “I’m sorry! You don’t have to rub it in. I admit that I screwed up! I, I just did it in the heat of the moment.”

  Isolder slapped Han’s back. “Ah, my friend, you’re even dumber than I thought—heck, maybe you’re dumber than anybody thought—but I wish I’d been there!” Luke felt rather surprised at the way Isolder had called Han his “friend.”

  “Yeah,” Leia said. “Me, too. You could have sold tickets to that.”

  Han looked up into Isolder’s eyes. “Really? Oh, you should have seen the look on Zsinj’s face—you know, he’s got little fat red cheeks, and the spittle was dripping out of his mouth, nose hairs twitching! It was great! Do you know he really is a genius? He can curse fluently in nearly sixty languages. Now I have heard some obscenities in my time, but this man has a special talent.”

  “Oh yeah,” Isolder smiled. “You know he’s going to put your head on a platter, don’t you? And considering Zsinj’s reputation, he might even eat it.”

  “Yeah, well,” Han said, “it keeps life interesting.”

  “We can worry about Zsinj later,” Luke said. “Right now, we had better get these parts back to the Falcon. Let’s not get caught out here in the open. When Gethzerion finds out that we made it off the ship alive, she’ll be right on our tails.” Luke looked at the barrel of coolant, feeling uncomfortable. Even with the patch, they’d lost half the barrel, and he knew that they needed every drop to make a safe jump.

  Leia patted Luke’s back reassuringly. “We’ll have to make do.”

  He nodded, agreeing only because that was all he could do. They had the rancors quickly load the generators and barrels of coolant into sacks woven from whuffa hide, and then the rancors slung them on their backs. The monsters didn’t even seem to notice the load, and in ten minutes they made it off the mud flats and into the shelter of the foothills.

  After a day and a night without sleep, the whole party was exhausted, but the rancors were rested, so they rode until near sunset, then made camp. Yet Luke could not rest. He walked off into the forest and paced. It was early evening. He stood on a hill looking out over the plains, and when he blinked his eyes the plains seemed dark, frozen, void of life. Eternal night, a voice whispered in him. Eternal night is coming. He wondered if the visions were symbolic, a representation of his own impending death.

  He stretched out his senses, felt the stirrings in the Force. Already, the army of Nightsisters was over halfway to the clan at Singing Mountain. Gethzerion had her landspeeder, and a trip that took three days for her army would take her only an hour. She and the rest of her clan could spend those three days laying strategy.

  Often, Luke had found that in the past he could imagine a battle as it might go, rehearse it in his mind. When he did so, the Force would guide him, give him insights he might not otherwise have had. But this time it was different. His skirmish beneath the towers had taught him little about the Nightsisters’ capabilities. He wished that Yoda or Ben would appear to counsel him, yet the only image that came to his mind was Yoda on the holo tape, Repulsed by the witches.

  Yoda had been a greater Jedi Master than Luke ever hoped to be, yet the witches had withstood him and others like him. Luke felt unsure of his power. The Force. Where did it really come from? Yoda had said that life created it, that it was energy. But could Luke use it in good conscience? If he was drawing energy from other living things, sucking them as if he were some leech bleeding them dry, how could he really justify what he did?

  And there was a further matter. In his battles with Darth Vader and the Emperor, Luke felt he had never truly tested his powers to the limits. Vader had sought only to turn him, had kept Luke alive. Yet Luke had no illusions that Gethzerion would be so lenient.

  “
What’s going on here, Ben?” Luke whispered, staring back into the deep green jungle. The dying sunlight flashed on the leaves. “Is this some kind of test, or what? Are you trying to find out if I’m ready to stand alone? Do you think I don’t need your help? What’s going on here?”

  Yet Ben did not answer. An evening breeze rustled through the tops of the trees so that leaf shadows danced over the ground. Luke looked up at the setting sun, found himself surprised. The forest carried the scent of leaf mold and some type of fruit in the upper branches of the trees. The evening was warm and perfect, the sun shining on him. Overhead, oblivious to the Nightsisters or Zsinj, lizards jumped among the upper foliage of the forest. In spite of everything, Luke realized, Dathomir really was a beautiful world. If the map in Augwynne’s war room was correct, humans seemed to have explored perhaps only one-hundredth of the livable surface of the planet. And for most of the creatures here, and on millions of planets elsewhere in the galaxy, Gethzerion’s schemes mattered less than the scattering of a handful of sand in the desert.

  As Luke wandered into the forest, Isolder sat and listened to Han talking to his droid. Leia soon fell asleep, but Isolder woke a bit later, noticed Teneniel sitting by the fire, outside the circle of light, watching the stars. He went and sat by her.

  “Sometimes at night when I’m out in the desert,” Teneniel said softly, “and there are no clouds, no trees to obstruct my view, I lie awake at night and look at the stars, wondering who lives there, what the people are like.”

  Isolder studied the points of light above them. In his pirating days he had worked this part of the galaxy, and he had a gift for astrogation. By noting a couple of major stars, he was able to picture where he was in space. “I’ve often done the same,” he said. “Except that between my history books and lessons in diplomacy and a little travel, I’ve learned a great deal. Pick a star,” he waved at the stars. “I’ll tell you about it.”

  “That one,” Teneniel said, pointing at the brightest one on the horizon.