The Crystal Star (27 page)

Besides, he thought he already knew the answer.

He was in bed--lying on his bed, to be more accurate, with his boots and jacket off and a light coverlet

thrown over him. Xaverri sat on the bed beside him, on top of the coverlet.

"How'd I get here?" he said.

"I put you here, of course," Xaverri said.

"Time has passed--nei of us is of an age to rest well, sitting up." He remembered one night when their

only choice had been to sleep sitting up, up to their necks in muddy swamp. They had slept in turns,

holding each other, so they would not both slip beneath the surface and drown.

Xaverri smiled. "I did not offend your modesty," she said.

"Do you have a family?" Han asked suddenly.

Her expression hardened. "You know that I had a family before you met me! You know that the

Empire--" "I mean now," he said gently. "The Empire is a long time ago. Are you alone?

Haven't you found someone?" "I will always be alone," she said. "I will never again--" She stopped, and

shook her head. "I will always be alone. If I had not made that vow, Solo, I would never have left you."

"You're cheating yourself," Han said.

"In your opinion," Xaverri said. "But imagine. If your nightmare had been real--" Han stiffened. He

rejected the possibility violently, as if to accept it would be to bring it to pass.

"It was just a dream!" "If your nightmare had been real, would you not protect yourself from experiencing

it again? No matter how many years ago it had been?" "It was just a dream!" Han said again. The

knowledge of his complete vulnerability swept over him, even stronger than the night before. He imagined

what it would be like never to hold Leia in his arms again, never to hug his children again, never hear

them giggle, feel them cover his face with wet childish kisses.

They're safe, he told himself again. Safe on Munto Codru.

"Your experience was a dream, Solo." Xaverri rose. "Mine was real." She left him alone. The door

closed itself softly behind her.

Han threw the coverlet onto the floor and got up. In his stocking feet, he rapped on the door of Luke's

room and entered without waiting for a reply.

All the windows and curtains were open. The white dwarf, the crystal star, shone at its zenith as it

crossed the orbit of Crseih Station. The black hole, the burning whirlpool, began to rise. Invisible itself, it

spun in the center of its violent accretion disk, which exploded with released energy. Light flooded the

room from two directions. Gradually, the light of the accretion disk overwhelmed the light of the white

dwarf, splashing intense illumination and stark shadows across the floor.

Luke sat crosslegged on the balcony, his back to Han. He did not speak.

Threepio straightened. The droid had set the table with ration packs from the Millennium Falcon.

Washcloths from the bathroom served as napkins.

A tumbler of grotesque and contorted flowers formed the centerpiece. Generations ago, while Crseih

Station was still being properly maintained, the flowers might have started out as some recognizable

species. Over the years, as the radiation shields became less and less reliable, they had mutated and

changed into thick-petaled monstrosities that resembled slices of raw red liver infected with chartreuse

tumors.

"Master Hanffwas Threepio said. "Are you hungry? I've prepared a light brunch. if we can rouse Master

Luke." "I.was hungry," Han said. "Till I took a look at those flowers. Space the decoration, will you?"

"But sir, they are quite intriguing--" "They're the ugliest damned things I've seen since @oe-trago." He sat

down. "And they smell!" "They are flowers, sir," Threepio said in a pained voice. "They are supposed to

smell.

It was only my intent to bring some cheer into the room, and if I may say so, I had to bear our host's

wrath to obtain them." Oh, fine, Han thought, but did not say aloud, another charge added to our bill.

Han went to the terrace door. "Luke!

Breakfast." Han sat at the table and opened his unappetizing ration pack. When's the last time I replaced

this stuff? he thought. He glanced at the date on the package and winced.

"Threepio, why didn't you bring some of the real food from the Falcon?" "Because, Master Han, it was

no longer fresh." "Neither is this." "Of course not, sir. It is preserved." "This is ridiculous. I'll order us a

decent meal." "That is impossible, sir. Our host, the lodge-keeper, insists that we pay as we go." Han

sighed and resigned himself to a terrible, if sustaining, breakfast.

"Hey, Lukeffwas Outside on the terrace, Luke rose slowly to his feet.

I can go out to the Falcon myself, Han thought, and get whatever's left over in the galley. It might not be

right out of the garden, but it'll be better than this.

Luke's shadows fell across the table, shivering, darkening.

"Sit down--" Han saw Luke's face.

"What's the matter?" "Leave you alone for a bit? A bit?" "Huh? What are you talking about?" Han asked,

baffled by Luke's tone. "Oh--y mean what Xaverri asked you? Did you want to talk some more? Sorry,

I fell asleep." "And she didn't leave till this morning," Luke said with a dangerous edge in his voice.

"No, she--wait a minute. What are you suggesting?" "Suggesting doesn't have anything to do with it."

"Now look, kid--" "Don't call me "kid"'ffwas Luke's hand slipped beneath his robe, where he carried his

lightsaber.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" Han asked, poised halfway between laughing and losing his

temper. "What are you going to do? Chop me into little pieces because I spent a few hours alone with an

old friend?" He had not intended to sound defensive, but that was the way it came out. It offended him

that Luke felt the need to chastise him for his behavior. It insulted him that Luke felt the need to remind

Han of his vows to Leia.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," Luke said.

"Apologize. That would be a good start." Luke glared, without replying.

"If you don't trust me," Han said angrily, "if you don't think Leia should trust me, why'd you come with

me--or is that why you came with me?" The ration pack crushed between Han's fingers, littering the

carpet with protein crumbs.

"I'm going out," Luke said. "To try to cool down." He headed for the door. "And I hope I don't run into

your "old friend"' while I'm at it." Threepio watched them, standing stock-st.

"Leave Xaverri out of this!" Han said. "This doesn't have anything to do with her--" Luke laughed bitterly.

his--x has to do with your opinion of me. Which obviously isn't nearly as high as I thought it was." "I can't

talk to you right now," Luke said. The door opened for him. "I won't talk to you right now." He plunged

through the doorway, jerking the door closed behind him. But it refused to slam; it shut silently.

Han flung the crumpled ration pack on the floor among the protein crumbs.

"Blockheaded, arrogant, Jedi--Jedi kid!" "Master Hanffwas Threepio said.

"What in the world--?" "It's too complicated to explain," Han said, as he left Luke's room.

"Did Master Luke not like his breakfast?" Threepio asked plaintively.

Alderaan streaked through hyperspace.

Lelila the bounty hunter sat in the cockpit, letting the fireworks display of hyperspace light lull her toward

hypnotic sleep.

It did not help. Hyperspace remained empty of any perceptible trail. Lelila sighed.

Geyyahab her copilot joined her, and let himself collapse in the navigator's seat. The bandage on his leg

displayed no warning sign of infection. Though the wound obviously pained him, he as obviously

preferred to pretend he was all right. Lelila made no comment about it.

"You're a very handsome color," she said, admiring his black and silver striped fur, with the hint of

chestnut beneath.

He touched the streaked brown hair hanging down before her face; he made a questioning sound, and

looped a green strand around his finger.

"No," she said, "it's boring, is what mine is. But the color will do for the moment." Her starship fell out of

hyperspace and powered toward Chalcedon. Lelila transmitted a reservation to the landing field at their

destination. The artificial-intelligence scheduler accepted her message.

Leia gazed at the planet and several expanded displays. It was rocky, all right. Several great volcanic

peaks rose from the flanks of the world, deforming the sphere. It was hard to imagine how the planet

maintained a steady rotation.

The world had an atmosphere that was barely, marginally breathable, thanks to the continuing volcanic

activity. It had some weather, mostly dry violent storms, and erosion. It had some water.

But it had no indigenous life. Here and there, scattered across the surface of the world, as far from the

tremendous volcanic peaks as they could be, a few blue and green blots blemished the surface: two

struggling colonies, and a way station.

"Why would anyone want to live here?" Lelila said.

Geyyahab did not try to answer her rhetorical question. He strapped himself in and impatiently motioned

to Lelila to do the same.

She complied, while she checked with Artoo-Detoo that Rillao, too, was safely secured in the medical

couch.

Her ship landed, a graceful fish settling to the scoured bottom of a river. The landing field was solid stone,

blackened by spaceship exhaust.

No dust scattered from the jets' exhaust. A few other ships stood on the field.

Lelila jumped up when she heard Rlllao.

She hurried to join her. The Firrerreo had wrapped the sheet around her. She walked slowly, carefully.

She had gathered her long striped hair and braided the ends together into a loose clump at the back of

her neck. Her wounds had healed, leaving silver scars on her tawny skin.

"Do you have clothing?" she said to Lelila.

Lelila blushed, embarrassed not to have offered her any.

"Your unnamed friend--" "No friend of mine," Rillao snarled. his--didn't wear any, I thought your people

don't--" "Nobody wears clothes in suspended animation," Rillao said. "Even if the Imperial overseers

who put you to sleep leave you with any to wear." Lelila took Rillao into her cabin and dug through the

closet. Most of the clothing was out of the question; some would simply look ridiculous. Rillao was

considerably taller than Lelila. Finally she found a splendid long green silk robe, meant as a lounging

outfit. The fabric was heavy enough to be worn outdoors.

"Would this do?" "It will suffice," Rillao said. She shoved her long arms into the sleeves and unrolled the

deep cuffso to their longest length, tied the sash twice around her waist, and kilted up the skirts of the

robe between her legs to form makeshift pantaloons. She tucked the ends of the robe in the sash.

"Better," she said. "Let's go." Geyyahab waited for them at the hatch.

"Please stay and guard the ship," Lelila said to him.

He growled in refusal.

"Someone's got to stay," Lelila said.

"No, not me, I'm the only one who hasn't been knocked around." She felt the need to keep the Wookiee

hidden as much as possible.

Why do you want to hide Geyyahab?

Lelila the bounty hunter asked herself. So what if anyone sees him? He's just another brindled Wookiee.

She shook her head, fighting off a wave of confusion.

"Please," she said to him again.

He sighed loudly and scuffed down the corridor to the cockpit.

As Lelila and Rillao climbed down from the ship, the ground quaked and rolled beneath them.

Lelila gasped and grabbed the edge of the hatch for support.

"Earthquake," Rillao said. "They're common here." With the ground still shivering, she set off. Lelila

hurried after her.

Soon they both slowed, for the air was thin and it had a bite. The volcanic trace gases hurt when Lelila

drew them too deeply into her lungs. Rillao slowed to match Lelila's pace.

"That droid is following us," Rillao said.

Leia glanced back. A hundred paces behind, the little droid rolled toward them, making up the distance,

beeping.

"That's all right," Lelila said. "The galley stores are low. We can buy food and some more medical

supplies. The droid can take them back to the ship." The quiet of the landing field gave way to the

spaceport bazaar. The noise of sellers and a small flute band roiled and tweeted around Lelila.

"What an impressive bazaar," Lelila said dryly.

Rillao snorted. "We aren't here for the bazaar," she said. She strode on, but, like Lelila, she soon had to

slow down. She coughed. "Foul air," she said.

Several sellers offered their wares--fruit pockmarked with the acrid volcanic chemicals, vases and

goblets and ornaments blown from local volcanic glass.

"Looks like mud," Rillao said.

A troop of Twi'leks danced in the shadows of the bazaar wall. Swinging their prehensile head-tentacles,

they cavorted around Lelila and Rillao. One plucked a small harp, while another whisked the air above

Lelila's head with a fan of insect wings. The wings traced pastel patterns, shedding glittery scales that

stuck to Lelila's skin and caught in her hair to shimmer before her eyes. Rillao, too, glowed in the sunlight

with a dusting of iridescent wing-scales. The dancers spiraled in toward them, circling closer till Lelila

grew tense and angry.

At the edge of the bazaar, the dance troop left them as suddenly as it had appeared: the spiral dance

reversed and widened, and the troop disappeared between a canvas tent and a portable geodesic dome.