Star Wars: The Courtship of Princess Leia Page 6

  Han began sweating again. “What’s it called?”

  “Daaathommmirrrrrr,” the Drackmarian breathed.

  “Dathomir?” Han repeated, mesmerized. Chewbacca growled in warning, placed a restraining claw on Han’s arm, begging him to be cautious.

  Threepio leaned close and his prissy vocalizers cut through the clouds of smoke. “May I remind you, sir, that the odds are one hundred thirty-one thousand and seventy-two to one against you taking nine hands in a row?”

  • • •

  When Leia answered her door chimes at the Alderaanian consulate, she found Han there, bathed in sweat, his hair a mess, his clothes looking baggy. He reeked of smoke and he smiled at her enormously, his bloodshot eyes gleaming with joy. He had a small box in his hand, wrapped in gold-colored foil.

  “Look, Han, if you’ve come back to apologize, I forgive you, but I really don’t have time for this now. I’m supposed to meet Prince Isolder in a few minutes and some Barabel spy wants to talk to me—”

  “Open it,” Han said, shoving the box into her hand. “Open it.”

  “What is it?” Leia asked. She suddenly realized that the box wasn’t just wrapped in gold-colored foil, it was wrapped in gold.

  “It’s yours,” Han said.

  Leia untied the strings, pulled the foil open. It was a registry chip, one of the old kind with a holo cube built in. She thumbed the switch, watched the planet materialize in the air before her, a scene from space showing the planet: Thin pink clouds shone at the edge of the terminus, dividing night from day, and generous storm clouds swirled out from the ocean. In the background, four small moons hovered. She studied the continents, green with life, vast purple savannahs, exquisitely small ice caps at the poles. “Oh, Han,” she said, her breath coming ragged with excitement. Her whole face seemed to be lit up, glowing. “What is its name?”

  “Dathomir.”

  “Dathomir?” She frowned in concentration. “I’ve heard of it … somewhere. Where is it located?” She suddenly turned all business.

  “In the Drackmar system. I won it from warlord Omogg.”

  She looked at the holo, watched it sequence into its first picture: giant green herd beasts, possibly reptilian, grazing on a blue plain. “This can’t be in the Drackmar system,” Leia said with certainty. “It’s only got one sun.”

  She went to her console, locked into Coruscant’s computer network, asking for the coordinates to Dathomir. It must have taken the huge computer banks some time to locate the files, for they waited nearly a minute before coordinates came up on screen. Leia looked into Han’s face, saw his manic joy turn into a frown. “But, but that can’t be!” Han said. “That’s in the Quelii sector—warlord Zsinj’s territory!”

  Leia smiled regretfully, rubbed Han’s hair as if he were a kid. “Oh, you sweet, shaggy nerf-herder. I knew it was too good to be true. Still, it was kind of you to offer. You know, you really are so kind to me!” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

  He stepped back in shock. “The … the Quelii sector?”

  “Go on home and get some sleep,” Leia said, as if distracted. “You won’t do yourself any good thinking about it. This ought to teach you never to play cards with a Drackmarian.” She escorted him out the door of the Alderaanian consulate, and Han stood for a moment, rubbing his eyes, trying to keep awake and think at the same time. He looked up at the towering buildings above him, and the sunlight was thin, as if he were locked deep under a jungle canopy.

  He had imagined that Leia would love her new world, had imagined how she would collapse in his arms with joy. He’d planned to wait till that moment, then ask her to marry him. Yet now all he had won was a worthless piece of real estate, and Leia had tousled his hair as if he were a kid brother. I probably look pretty stupid right now, Han thought. Stupid and grungy. He jingled the money in his pocket, enough credit chips so he could get the Falcon out of hock. Fortunately, Chewbacca had had the foresight to pull that much out of the pot. Nearly two billion credits won and lost. Han was feeling too old to cry—almost. He stumbled back through the gray streets of Coruscant to a small apartment that he kept onplanet, just hoping for some sleep.

  “You really shouldn’t go to this meeting,” Isolder said. “I don’t like the idea of you traveling alone in the underworld.”

  Leia smiled tolerantly at the prince. He was, after all, interested only in protecting her, but after tripping over his bodyguards for the past two days, she was beginning to wonder if he weren’t overly protective. “I’ll be all right,” she said. “I’ve handled his kind before.”

  “If his information is so important,” Isolder said, “then why hasn’t he given it to you already? Why insist on this meeting?”

  “He’s a Barabel. You know how paranoid predators get when they’re convinced someone is hunting them. Besides, if he really does have information about attack dates and battle plans, I’ll need that information before we go to the Roche system. The Verpines have got to be warned.”

  Isolder studied her with his clear, profound gaze. He wore a yellow half cape, an enormous golden belt, and wide golden bracelets that accented the bronze color of his skin. He stepped forward, rested his hands lightly on her shoulders, and Leia’s skin tingled at the contact. “If you insist on going into the underworld, then I am coming with you.” Leia started to object, but he touched his finger to his lips. “Please, allow me this. I suspect you are right. I suspect that nothing will happen, but I could not live with myself if anything should happen to you.”

  Leia studied his eyes, wanted to object, but there had been threats against her life. Isolder hinted that factions on Hapes would object to the union, and already she had heard reports through the New Republic spy networks that warlords on the far side of the galaxy were making efforts to sabotage the union. They didn’t want the Hapan fleets adding their ships to the New Republic. Leia was already getting a taste of what it would be like to be the queen mother, wielding her might.

  “All right, you can accompany me,” Leia said, and she admired Isolder for having the courtesy to ask to accompany her. Han would have demanded it. She wondered if Isolder’s good manners were a natural part of his personality or if they had become ingrained simply because he was reared in a matriarchal society where women were shown greater respect. Whatever the case, she found it charming.

  He took Leia’s arm, and they strolled out to the curb, flanked by Isolder’s amazon bodyguards, to wait under the marble porte cochere for Leia’s hover car. Old Threkin Horm came humming up the street in his repulsor chair. The broad streets here were fairly empty at this time in the morning, a couple of Ishi Tibs strolling, an old droid painting the lampposts. Threkin greeted them casually, as if he just happened to be passing by, but he did not volunteer to leave. Instead, he thumbed the switch that stopped his chair and just sat, waiting for the hover car. “I hear that it’s such a nice day up top,” Threkin said, nodding toward the towering buildings above them, hover cars moving through slants of sunlight, “that I’m almost tempted to go sunbathing. Almost.”

  Isolder tenderly gripped Leia’s arm, and Leia suddenly wished that Threkin would just get lost. She looked up at Isolder, and he smiled down as if sharing her thought.

  “Ah, here’s your car now!” Threkin said. A black hover car plowed down the street, slowed, swerved in close. The tinted glass in the passenger’s window shattered as someone shoved a blaster barrel through.

  “Down!” one of Isolder’s bodyguards shouted, and the woman leaped in front of Leia as the first volley of red bolts cut through the air. One of the bolts caught the woman in the chest, lifted her and threw her back. Gouts of blood glittered in the air, and Leia smelled the familiar stench of ozone and charred flesh.

  Threkin Horm cried out and hit a button on his repulsor chair—he went hurtling south as fast as if he were in a land speeder, shouting at the top of his lungs.

  Isolder pushed Leia back behind one of the broad pillars of the porte cochere and was a b
lur of motion as he whipped off his belt. Part of it—a small gold shield—he held in his left hand, and from somewhere he drew a small blaster. Leia heard a humming noise and a second volley issued from the car—but the red flaming bolts hit the air in front of them, exploded harmlessly.

  A thin, blue, circular haze shimmered before Isolder, white at the edges, like a ring around a moon on a cold night. Personal shielding, she realized. Leia was suddenly conscious that the remaining amazon bodyguard was behind her, taking momentary advantage of the shielding to shout into a hand-held comlink for a backup.

  A burst of blaster fire whizzed past Leia’s head, hitting the marble above them, and Leia turned. The droid that had been painting on the corner fired a blaster at them.

  “Astarta! Get the droid!” Isolder shouted. The prince’s shield couldn’t cover them in the crossfire, and they couldn’t count on the marble pillars for much protection. Leia lunged for the dead amazon’s blaster, fired off two quick rounds, enough so that the droid hid behind his lamppost. It was only then that Leia registered the oddly erect main body, the bullet-shaped head and long legs. An Eliminator assassin droid, model 434. Astarta joined her in opening fire on it.

  The hover car stopped, and two men leaped out, firing. Leia knew that Isolder’s personal shield couldn’t hold for more than a couple more seconds. Personal shielding tended to provide minimal protection, because you couldn’t get a power source strong enough to deflect enemy fire and still last for more than a moment. The second danger came from the shield itself—the energy shield got so hot that the wielders risked frying themselves if they accidentally touched it. Isolder held the shield before him, lunged at his attackers.

  Two more bolts whizzed past his head, and Astarta fired. Leia looked just in time to see the amazon’s single bolt hit the assassin droid at midtorso. Metal bits flew into the air, followed by a massive explosion as the droid’s power plant exploded.

  The prince swung his shield as a weapon, and its energy field knocked his attackers backward. Blue sparks erupted in the air as it made contact. One man cried out and dropped his blaster, holding his burned face. Isolder raised the shield over his head, spun it and tossed it at the last attacker. The shielding caught the assassin in the chest, sliced through him like a lightsaber, and then Isolder stood alone with his blaster, aiming it at the remaining assassin, who was screaming in agony, clutching his face. He once had been a handsome man, Leia thought. Too handsome. A Hapan.

  “Who hired you?” Isolder demanded.

  The assassin screamed out, “Llarel! Remarme!”

  “Teba illarven?” Isolder asked in Hapan.

  “At! Remarme!” the assassin begged.

  Isolder kept the gun leveled at the assassin a second longer, and the man shouted again. A piece of burned flesh tore away from his face. The man leaped into the gutter for his gun, and Isolder hesitated. The assassin fumbled for the gun, pointed it at his own face, and pulled the trigger.

  Leia turned away. Suddenly Isolder’s bodyguard was pulling at Leia’s arm, yelling, “Inside, get inside!” and Isolder grabbed Leia, took her back into the house. There was an alcove by the door where guests could hang their coats, and Isolder pulled Leia toward the alcove, then stood protecting her, breathing hard and looking out into the hallway. The bodyguard, Astarta, had bolted the door. As on most of the consulates, Leia’s door was made of ancient blastplate and could withstand even a sustained assault. The bodyguard was yelling into her communicator again. Leia couldn’t understand Hapan, but the guard was making a lot of noise.

  “Who sent them?” Leia asked.

  “He wouldn’t say,” Isolder answered briefly. “He only begged me to kill him.”

  Outside, through the walls, Leia could hear New Republic forces shouting as they sought to secure the area.

  Isolder stood panting, listening intently, probably trying to eavesdrop on both his bodyguard and the police outside, make sure it was safe. He held Leia lightly, protectively, and her heart hammered. She pushed at him gently, and said, “Thank you for saving me.”

  Prince Isolder focused on the sounds around him so strongly that at first he seemed not to notice that she was pushing him away. Then he looked down into her eyes. He lifted her chin and kissed her forcefully, passionately, and stepped in closer so that the entire length of him pressed against her.

  Leia’s mind seemed to go white, and her whole body felt electric. Her jaw was trembling, but she kissed him long and slowly, the seconds ticking away far slower than the pounding in her chest. With each second she could think of only one thing, I’m betraying Han. I don’t want to hurt Han. But then Isolder whispered into her ear, demanding. “Come away with me to Hapes! Come see the worlds you will rule!”

  Leia found herself crying, had never really imagined that she would let something like this happen. But at that moment, whatever attachment she had ever felt for Han suddenly seemed to become as insubstantial as fog, as a gentle white mist, and Isolder was the sun, burning it all away. With tears running down her cheeks she tangled her arms around Isolder and promised, “I’ll come with you!”

  Chapter

  6

  I don’t know why I asked you here,” Han said to Threepio, waving his hand in an expansive gesture. They sat in a booth in a cantina on Coruscant. It was a tame place by any standards—clear air, couples dancing slowly to the sound of Ludurian nose flutes.

  Chewbacca looked up from his drink with weary eyes and growled. Chewie knew Han was lying. He knew exactly why Han asked Threepio there.

  Threepio glanced at both of them, and his logic drive told him to probe further. “Is there anything I can help you with, sir?”

  “Well, see … you’ve been closer to Leia over the last couple of days than I have,” Han said, hunching his shoulders. “She hasn’t exactly been happy with me … and she’s spending all of her time with that prince, and after what happened to them this morning, they are so tightly surrounded by bodyguards that you can hardly get a glimpse of them. And now Leia left me a holo message to say she might be going to Hapes.”

  Threepio studied the words for 3.12 seconds, searching through layer after layer of innuendo and unspoken meanings. “I see!” he said. “You two are having diplomatic problems!” Although Threepio was a translator with some of the finest programming in the galaxy, his human friends seldom called on his talents when dealing with their own complex emotional entanglements. Threepio perceived immediately that Han was placing an inordinate amount of trust in his abilities. This would be a rare opportunity to prove himself. “You’ve certainly come to the right droid! How may I help you?”

  “I don’t know …” Han said. “You see them together a lot. I was just wondering, you know, how things are going. Are they really getting that close?”

  Threepio immediately accessed all visual records where he’d seen Leia and Isolder together over the last couple of days: dinners three nights in a row, council meetings where the two of them discussed potential difficulties in negotiating a settlement between the Verpines and the Barabels, just walking, dancing at a party for a minor dignitary. “Well, sir, during their first day together, Prince Isolder kept an average distance of point five six two decimeters between himself and Leia,” See-Threepio said, “but that space is closing rapidly. I would say that the two of them are becoming very close indeed.”

  “How close?” Han asked.

  “Over the past eight standard hours, the two have been touching nearly eighty-six percent of the time.” Threepio’s infrared optical sensors picked up a slight brightening as blood rushed to Han’s face. He quickly apologized, “I’m sorry if this news disturbs you.”

  Han downed a mug of Corellian rum. Since it was his second in the past few minutes, Threepio quickly calculated Han’s body mass and the alcohol content of the rum and decided that Han was more than mildly inebriated. Yet the primary manifestation of the intoxication seemed to be only a slight slowing of his speech.

  Han placed a hand on Thre
epio’s metal arm. “You’re a good droid, Threepio. You’re a good droid. There’s not many droids I like as much as I like you. I don’t know, what would you do if some droid prince was trying to muscle in on the woman you loved?”

  Threepio’s sensors picked up heavy emanations of alcohol from Han’s breath, and he leaned away to avoid any corrosion to his processors.

  “The first thing I would do,” Threepio proffered, “would be to gauge the opposition and see what I have to give that the opposing party does not. Any good counselor droid could tell you that.”

  “Uh-huh,” Han said. “So, what do I have to offer Leia that Isolder doesn’t?”

  “Well, let’s see …” Threepio said. “Isolder is extremely wealthy, generous, well-mannered, and—at least by human standards—attractive. So, now all that we need to do is see what you have to offer that he doesn’t have.” Threepio searched his files for several moments, overheating his memory drives.

  “Oh dear!” he whined at last. “I see your problem! Well, there’s always emotional attachment, I suppose. I’m certain that Leia won’t forget about you just because a better man has come along!”

  “I love her,” Han said emphatically. “I love her more than I love my own life, more than breath. When she touches me I feel like … I don’t know how to say it.”

  “Have you told her?” Threepio asked.

  “Like I say,” Han sighed, “I just don’t know how to say it. You’re a counselor droid.” He poured another rum, just stared at it. “Do you know how to say it? Do you know any songs or poems?”

  “Indeed! I carry masterpieces from over five million cultures in my memory banks. Here is one of my favorites, from the Tchuukthai:

  “Shah rupah shantenar

  shan erah pathar

  thulath entarpa