Star wars, p.22
Star Wars, page 22
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Yens started.
Han smiled with all his teeth. “I’m sure you do.” Yens opened his mouth, but Han cut him off—the same way the prime minister had kept interrupting his wife. “It was twenty-five, maybe thirty meters tall. Huge metal thing, but black.” Black as the Empire, Han almost said. “You can’t miss it.”
A muscle worked in Yens’s jaw, but he met Han’s gaze unflinchingly. “About a year ago, the Empire came. They wanted our carnium. Gave me a deal, they said, I couldn’t refuse.”
“And what did you do?” Leia asked quietly.
“I refused them.”
Before he could say anything else, the ice beneath their feet shuddered. A splintering crack echoed somewhere nearby, and inside the palace came the sounds of startled screams. Han watched with wide eyes as the ground—made of a solid sheet of ice—shifted. He grabbed for Leia, catching her arm before she lost balance. Yens stood with a wide stance, balancing as the ice moved. “Simply a quake,” he called to them. “Nothing to worry about.”
It was over in less than a minute, but the ice quake left Han’s heart racing, his breath catching. Leia’s cheeks were flushed, and she gripped his arm tightly. The ice fields had felt so solidly strong, as firm as any ground Han had ever stood on; the quake had rattled him.
Yens looked down his nose at Han and Leia. “I advise you not to leave the safety of the city without supervision,” he said. “After all, anything can happen on the ice.”
CHAPTER 34
LEIA
THAT WAS SIMPLY NOT A good enough answer, and an ice quake was not going to stop Leia. “You said the Empire came here,” she said, marching over to the prime minister as an aftershock shuddered through the ice. “What exactly did they offer?”
“Credits,” Yens said. “Not as much as the carnium was worth.”
“And the black tower?” Han asked.
“Used to be a station. It was in orbit; they treated it like a base as they scouted the other moons and planets in this system for more carnium.”
Leia raised her eyebrow, not even bothering to hide her doubt at his words. Was the prime minister implying that they had shot down an Imperial space station? Han looked grim, and she was reminded that even though he hadn’t wanted to come to this world, he still had her back no matter what.
“As you can see,” Yens continued, “my people defend what’s theirs. We need no alliance with whatever republic emerges from the ashes of what used to be the Empire. A year ago they came; now you’re here. It makes no difference. Madurs wants neither of you.”
“A year ago,” Leia muttered. That would line up with the time when the Empire annexed Cloud City on Bespin—a primary source of Tibanna gas. While she had not known it at the time, Palpatine must have been deep into the construction of the second Death Star then, but to her knowledge, it did not need carnium—could he have wanted it for another purpose? Leia and the high council had speculated that the grip in the Anoat sector was tightening now as a sort of precautionary plan Palpatine had set up to control the supply chain and cut off the budding new republic at the knees before it could fully stand. But Madurs and its carnium was an alternative source of energy, and if the Empire had come a year ago—at the same time as it seized control of Bespin—perhaps there was something more nefarious at hand than a complication in controlling fuel supplies for the galaxy.
Han scowled darkly at the prime minister, who seemed oblivious to the foul look. But Leia also knew that Han’s disconcerting reaction wasn’t just to this new knowledge of the Empire seizing control of fuel supply lines.
About a year ago was when he had been frozen in carbonite.
What must it be like for him? Only a few weeks had passed since Leia had been able to steal into Jabba the Hutt’s palace in the Northern Dune Sea. Han had gone from Bespin to Tatooine with no memory or even awareness of the time that had passed. To him, Leia had confessed her love, then he’d been frozen, then he woke up in her arms. His recovery hadn’t been smooth—Leia was still worried about long-term repercussions of Han being frozen for so long, and his temporary blindness had truly scared her—but he had lost a year of his life.
A year Leia had lived.
So much had happened that year that Han knew nothing about. He was aware that Leia had saved him, true, but he didn’t see the endless nights of planning. The frustration at delays.
Han had not yet noticed the new scar on Leia’s arm, the one that she refused to let the meds fully erase. She kept a hairbreadth of that scar as a memorial, a gift from a commander with a particular need for vengeance against her specifically, a reminder that sometimes the choices people made resulted in situations where there were no longer choices to be had.
Leia hadn’t told Han about the long struggle even to find him. When he’d been frozen, Boba Fett had been right there, ready to take him to Jabba. But things had gone sideways, as always. For a while, Leia had thought he’d died. She’d crossed paths with Qi’ra and Crimson Dawn. She’d made deals she hadn’t wanted to make. And in the end, Han had still ended up on Jabba’s wall, and Leia had still had to fight to save him.
Han knew only the beginning and the end of that story. And she should tell him the middle, she knew that, but so far she couldn’t seem to put into words just how much had transpired while he slept.
She had only found the courage to say the words “I love you” moments before he’d been frozen. And she had spent the year that followed with those words as a chain around her heart. There was no closure in silence. Every decision she made, every action she took, was pulled down by those words, still lingering, forming a question she could not find the answer to.
Leia twisted her wedding ring on her finger, but a piece of the crystallized vine seemed to shift at her touch. She forced her hands down; she didn’t know how delicate the ring was, and even though it felt like amber, it wasn’t truly. It could break. Everything could.
Prime Minister Yens gestured to the big doors leading back inside to the reception hall. The party was starting to wind down, the glittering distraction of the palace and all it had to offer somewhat dimmed by the ice quake. Leia and Han followed him inside.
“Let’s smile for the holos.” Yens put down his now empty glass on the tray of a server droid, grabbed Leia by the elbow, and steered her to another part of the reception hall, where a series of reporters and X-0X units were mingling. Leia could hear Han’s footsteps behind them, but she didn’t turn around, even though she didn’t like the way the prime minister held her arm so firmly, his fingers digging into the inside of her elbow.
“Here she is!” Prime Minister Yens said loudly. “Sorry to have stolen away our guest of honor!” A few reporters captured her image.
“I wasn’t expecting a media conference,” Leia told him quietly.
“Then you’re not as savvy a politician as I was led to believe,” the prime minister replied in a low voice, his lips curved in a politician’s smile for the cams.
“This is the first time in years that we’ve had attention on our little moon solely for its merits in the art realm,” he said louder, his voice picked up by the recorders. “We greatly value the attention your presence brings to our ice palaces. Perhaps we can convince the Halcyon to make Madurs a regular stop on its cruising itinerary, especially now that we have intergalactic peace!”
Leia reminded herself that she was there to reassure the public that the galaxy no longer needed to fear the Empire’s stranglehold. Being unable to convince the prime minister to join the unified new government left a bitter taste in her mouth, but Leia had been raised a princess and had worked diligently to become a politician.
She knew when to smile.
And so she did, graciously praising the wonders of both Madurs and the ship that had brought her to the moon, leading the reporters down a story path full of art and beauty. Yens kept his hand on her elbow and his own smile fixed firmly in place.
“And what about that ice quake?” one of the reporters asked.
For the first time, Yens’s cheery attitude faded. “A mild inconvenience that rarely causes harm. Ice quakes are a fact of life on Madurs, nothing to worry about.”
“Was it the ice quakes that led to the ruins we passed on our way in?”
Leia cut her eyes at the inquisitive reporter—while most of the people gathered here were clearly under Madurs’s employ, this journalist was one Leia recognized from the Halcyon. Riyola had promised to send someone trustworthy who would help ensure that the narrative was presented truthfully. This woman, with short-cropped silver hair that belied her youthful face, had a pin on her collar identifying her as working with Contempora News, a holonet show with a reputation for balanced information that was vigorously fact-checked.
The woman noticed Leia’s attention and flashed her a smile. “Mira Khun, for Contempora,” she said. “I’m pitching a story to the network about this jaunt.”
Leia wasn’t sure if Mira meant her honeymoon, the Halcyon’s premier voyage out of the shadow of the Empire, or their impromptu visit to Madurs, but for the first time that night, her smile back at the reporter wasn’t false. “The prime minister was just talking to me about his moon’s natural resources,” she said, turning to Yens. “Of course I care about more than just the economic welfare of any world; Prime Minister Yens has offered to allow us to inspect the ice fields near the ruins so that we can advise him on any conservation efforts that are needed for this moon’s stability.”
As one, every lens whirred as they focused on the prime minister’s face. Leia blinked up at him innocently. Yens had said nothing whatsoever about leading any tour of the ruins—and the black tower beyond—but now that Leia had put him on the spot, denying her access to that area would look even more suspect.
“Of course,” Yens said gruffly. “All art is temporary, even this palace.” He swept his hands up, clearly trying to divert attention.
But he had forced Leia into the spotlight, and Leia was going to use it to her advantage. “And there is beauty in broken things,” she said, cutting him off. “Such a good idea to juxtapose the grandeur of this ice palace with those that have fallen. Shall we visit them today?”
The prime minister sputtered. “If you’re concerned about the conservation efforts, I will be happy to explain more during our forthcoming visit to the underwater fishing base so that you can see just how in touch the people of Madurs are with our environment.”
“Of course, that sounds delightful!” Leia gushed. “And on the way back, we can stop at the broken ice palaces. What a wonderful idea, Prime Minister.” Before he could answer, Leia turned to the journalists, singling out Mira Khun. “Would you like to come with me, for your story?”
Mira grinned rapaciously. “Absolutely.”
With plans settled, the little media corner broke up, reporters mingling with the fading crowd, droid cams drifting higher for a different perspective for the feeds. In all reality, Leia hoped that the exposure would work well for Madurs’s art world; seeing the ice palaces on the feeds must surely incentivize some to come see them in person.
Feeling it her duty, Leia forced herself to make her way around the reception hall, greeting guests from the Halcyon and residents of Madurs alike. Even the most reluctant of the tourists from the Halcyon were eager to don the thermal disks and venture out to explore this harsh but beautiful moon, and Leia was gratified to see that this part of her plan, at least, had paid off. Clearly the prime minister had been pushing the art angle of Madurs; perhaps invoking the promise of more star cruiser stops on this moon would be the economic leverage needed.
The server droids had switched out the warm kistrozer with something bubbly and light, and Leia happily claimed a glass for herself. The party was starting to break up as guests from the Halcyon made their way to the cube houses in the square behind the main palace. Eager to change clothes for the excursion, Leia downed her drink quickly and looked around for a place to put the empty glass.
A server—a human, not a droid—stepped forward with a tray. “Thank you,” Leia said.
The server nodded, but he looked as if he wanted to say something. Leia waited, and, sure enough, the young man spoke after furtively looking around. “Is it true what they’re saying?” he asked in a low voice. “We—” At this, he glanced behind him, and Leia noticed a cluster of servers lingering near the wall, watching them raptly. “We all wanted to ask. Is it true that the war is over?”
Whatever Leia had been expecting, it hadn’t been this. “Of course,” she said.
“But…” The server sat his tray down on a table, giving Leia his full attention. “But really over? The Empire fell?”
“The Emperor is dead,” Leia said in as clear a voice as she could. She enunciated each word carefully, strongly. It was disheartening that even here, the Empire’s propaganda and power were leveraged against the truth. “The Empire is gone. The galaxy is free.”
“But—” he started, but then the young man’s eyes widened, and he turned on his heel, grabbing the tray he’d set down. Glasses clinking together, he bustled off.
Leia turned to see what the server had seen. Prime Minister Yens raised his glass to her from across the room in a mock salute.
CHAPTER 35
HAN
DESPITE BEING MADE OF ICE, the guest residence Han and Leia were given was luxuriously appointed, warm, and private. From the ground, the cube house looked as if it was perched cockeyed on a tube, much like the precariously warmed kistrozer glasses, but inside, the floor was flat and made of some sort of metal panel that radiated heat. The walls all angled oddly, but the sharp corners allowed prisms of rainbows to glow across the white furnishings. The city resided at the northern pole of Madurs; it would never get fully dark while they were visiting, and the gentle, hazy light cast everything in cool-toned softness.
“It’s not bad,” Han said, shrugging as he sat down on the bed. He leaned back, his boots on the white coverlet until Leia knocked them down.
“What do you think of Yens?” she asked, sitting down in the spot where his feet had been.
Han didn’t bother opening his eyes. “He’s lying.”
“Obviously.” Leia paused, watching a beam of light that cut through the room. “But about what?”
Han raised his hand in the air from his position on the bed, counting down with his fingers. “The black tower. The ruined palaces. The real reason he invited you here. Take your pick.”
Leia frowned, shoving his legs again. “The Empire got here first.”
Han snorted. Not everything had to lead back to the Empire. He didn’t bother arguing with Leia now; he knew she would never see it from his point of view. But little worlds like this, ones that could not only self-sustain but thrive enough to develop their own art and culture—they didn’t want to join any larger government, Imperial or Republic. They just wanted to be left alone.
Han could respect that.
Leia stood up from the bed and headed to the clothing stand in the corner, where two straffle cloaks were draped, waiting for them. They’d been informed that, after a brief respite, the first tour to view the ice fishing and underwater base would begin. Leia tossed one of the cloaks to Han, who let out a breath of air in an audible oof! as the heavy material hit him in the stomach.
“You do realize we don’t have to go, right?” he said, shoving the cloak to the floor.
“Come on, this is our chance to check out that black tower.”
“There’s no way he’s gonna actually take us to see that,” Han said with a snort. “Bet you he’ll take us in the other direction and then give some excuse about how we can’t go there.”
Leia frowned. “Either way, we’re not going to just stay here.”
Han finally sat up. His eyes searched hers. “Do you really think the Empire has some hold here? Sure, that black tower is pretty damning, but Yens made it sound like the Empire came, and they fought them off.”
“A little moon like this can’t just fight off the whole Empire alone.”
Han shrugged. “Could have been more trouble than it was worth. And the Empire was losing its grip.”
“Not a year ago. Not while you—” Leia stopped herself.
But Han knew what she’d been about to say. Not while you were gone. He’d lost a whole year, and within a week of him waking up, both Jabba the Hutt and the Empire were dead. Everything had happened so fast—but not for Leia. Not for anyone who hadn’t been trapped in carbonite.
“It doesn’t have to be the Empire,” Han said sullenly. “Sounds like Yens just doesn’t like any overarching government.”
Leia cut her eyes at him, twisting her ring on her finger. “The new republic we make will be different.”
Han couldn’t hide his doubtful expression, but before he could comment, a beeping sound emitted from Leia’s bag. She bent to root around in its depths, withdrawing a holocomm. She sat down on the bed beside Han as she flicked it on.
Riyola Keevan’s form illuminated on the holo. “Leia, Han,” she said by way of greeting, her words clipped.
“What’s wrong?” Leia asked, concern etched on her face at the Pantoran woman’s dark tone and serious expression.
“The prime minister has rescinded his invitation for the media,” Riyola said.
Leia shot Han a look. She may have more experience with publicity, but it didn’t take a genius to know that a government that wanted to hide from the media had something big to hide.
“Khun contacted me,” Riyola continued. “I’d arranged for her to cover this event in the first place, and when I spoke with the prime minister, he was on board for all media to stay the duration of the excursion. She planned for an entire special documentary covering not just your visit, but more of the moon’s history.”
