Star wars, p.28
Star Wars, page 28
Barely.
Han charged at Beck, intending to knock into her, but in one deft motion she stepped to the side. Without the impact he’d been bracing for, Han stumbled, and Beck slammed the butt of her blaster into the back of his skull, causing black dots to dance before his eyes.
“How considerate,” Beck said, grinning at him as he took a few more staggering steps. “Giving me a reason to kill you first.”
A harpoon sliced through the air, cutting Beck’s biceps. A red line of blood blossomed over her white jacket—perfectly straight and neat, so clean it looked as if it were a band of honor on her immaculate uniform and not an injury. With a snarl, Beck adjusted her grip on her blaster to steady her now injured arm. Leia ducked back behind the crates, a flash of white as she scrambled for both a better position and another weapon. Han used Beck’s distraction to dart away, taking cover near the protruding ridge of a magnetic shield housing that protected the docking bay from the water on the other side.
“Stop!” Yens shouted, his voice breaking. “This doesn’t have to end in violence.”
Beck snarled, but it was Han who snapped, “Of course it does; this is the Empire!” He could almost account for the tragedy of the situation leading to Madurs being trapped, but surely this man wasn’t so much a fool he didn’t see how this would inevitably conclude.
Beck swung around, aiming her blaster at Han, the easier target with less cover. The plasma blast hit the magnetic shield, dark carbon scoring streaking the metal housing centimeters from his face. The shield rippled like water, but held.
“Don’t flood the dock!” Yens shouted.
Beck cursed at him, a moment too late to hit Han as he darted to a different bay. This one was connected to a ship and therefore had no shield up, but Han was not foolish enough to step inside, trapping himself in a submersible vehicle locked into the bay. He could probably figure out how to free it, but the entire time he’d be an easy target for Beck’s dead-eye shot.
From his new vantage point, he could see behind the crates. Leia was frantically rifling through the ones she could reach without exposing herself, looking for a weapon. But while the harpoon had been effective, most of the contents were nets. That’d worked on Endor, but Beck was smarter than the average stormtrooper.
Leia’s gaze met Han’s for a split second.
This isn’t the end, he wanted to say, even as glowing red blasts burned through the air between them.
Leia’s brow raised, her meaning clear: I know, laserbrain, but you got any ideas?
That woman sure knew how to talk with her eyes. Stars, he never loved her more than when they were in the middle of a battle.
“This isn’t right!” Yens shouted. It seemed as if the man was confirming what he’d known all along—the Empire was never going to uphold their “bargain” with his moon, they would continue to take and take until there was nothing left. That, or cold-blooded murder right in front of him was a bridge too far for him to tolerate.
Beck ignored him utterly. Han and Leia were cornered, close enough together that she could advance without losing sight of either. The only reason her steps were slow and methodical, Han knew, was because she didn’t know what else Leia may have found behind the crates.
Han curled against the protruding metal of the magnetic shield housing. He knew what Beck didn’t—there were no weapons left.
He caught Leia’s eyes, subtly moving his head to the submersible. It was a long shot to even get it unlocked from the bay, much less operating, before Beck killed them both.
Good thing Han was used to long shots.
Leia nodded once, but rather than run over to him, she bunched her hands in fistfuls of netting, twirling the thin material around her wrists.
Beck took another step closer.
Leia leapt up, throwing the nets to the left, the material streaming out in gossamer threads at the same time that she hurtled herself to the right, toward Han. She kept her grip on the nets, letting them wave behind her.
By the time she crashed into Han, sending both of them tumbling into the submersible, there was nothing but burnt ends of strings dangling from her fingers; the rest of the nets had been burned away.
Beck no longer trod lightly. She thundered toward them, not pausing as she fired, not caring what else she hit. Her arms—even the injured one—didn’t falter. There was no cover inside the submersible, not even seats. It was little more than a hatch, a control panel, and a glass bubble dome, used for work and efficiency, not comfort.
The entire submersible shuddered, nearly sending Leia to the floor. What was that? Not a quake—not a result of the blasterfire.
The magnetic shield lowered.
Han’s eyes flew through the glass to Prime Minister Yens, who had his hand on the control panel in the docking bay. His jaw was set as he prepared the launch of the submersible into the icy water.
Beck cursed, but rather than lose herself to rage, she skidded to a stop just in front of the faint blue-glowing light of the shield. Legs splayed in a firm stance, Beck raised her weapon, not flinching as she fired blast after blast not at the shield but at the metal housing that covered the mechanics that operated it. She had already caused enough damage to make the metal glow red and sizzle through one layer.
“It can’t hold!” Leia screamed. If Beck blasted directly into the circuitry that operated the shield, it would fail.
“I know,” Han growled, frantically slamming his hands on the controls. Slow to wake up, the old submersible was barely churning water, chugging resolutely but painstakingly slow.
Through the shield, Han saw Yens rush at Beck, but she easily knocked him aside and continued calmly firing, carefully aiming at the same spot, over and over again.
And then the shield broke.
Water flooded into the docking bay, the force hard enough to knock both Beck and Yens down before the metal fail-safe sealed the bay closed.
But not before Beck shot one perfectly aimed blast through the water and against the glass dome of the submersible.
Through the growing, splintering crack in the glass between them and the frigid waters, Han and Leia saw Beck stand, straighten, and smirk.
She hadn’t been able to kill them directly, but as soon as the dome shattered, the sea would do it for her.
CHAPTER 46
LEIA
DRIP.
Leia watched as a tiny droplet of pale-turquoise water dribbled from the crack and plopped between them. She raised her eyes to Han.
Even in those brief seconds, the crack in the glass splintered more.
“It won’t hold,” she said softly.
Han shook his head.
Their best bet was the open area around the dock, where the anglers tossed their lines down, but even as Leia thought that, she saw glimmers of red plasma snaking through the water. Stormtroopers—perhaps aided by Beck herself—were shooting through that open area directly into the water, hoping to hit them and further damage the ship. There was no escape that way.
Leia closed her eyes. She allowed herself one moment of fear. To visualize what would inevitably happen. The glass dome was breaking. It would split apart under the pressure of the water soon. They still had their thermal vests, so they wouldn’t freeze. But they had tossed the breathing apparatuses aside. They would drown. Even if they could reach the surface in time, it was frozen, meters-thick ice that they could not break through with nothing but their bare hands.
I am not going to die underwater on some moon.
She opened her eyes.
I am not going to die today.
She tried to believe it.
“We have to get as close to the surface and as close to the station as possible,” she said, her eyes on the growing crack. The ice was thinner there, the water warmer; it was the only chance. There could be Imperials there, too, but…
It was their only chance.
The submersible launched forward as Han leaned into the controls, little more than a joystick and a pedal. Leia reached forward, hands on the cold glass, looking up. If she could see a beam of light, a place where the ice was thinner…
In the shadows, Leia spotted dim outlines of sea creatures. In another life, she would never have even noticed that there was something wrong with Madurs. She would have piled into the luxurious underwater shuttle and gone edont sighting with the tourists. She would have had a normal honeymoon, without a worry in her head. Another life.
One where she’d probably live longer.
Bubbles roiled behind them as the tiny vessel puttered along. It was never designed to rush people to the surface and air; it was designed to plug along through the water, slow enough not to startle big schools of fish and steady enough to pluck kelp. It was no more designed to be the Millennium Falcon than Leia was designed for a life of peace.
The crack splintered more, cold dribbles of water leaking over her fingers.
Leia glanced at Han. His jaw was set, his eyes focused, his whole body straining to push the little submersible farther, faster, farther.
Leia felt so useless, just standing there.
Could…
Could the Force help?
Luke had reached out to her for aid on Bespin. And she had heard that call. Her twin was too far to help her even if she could reach him, but…could someone hear her? Could someone help?
She let her eyes unfocus, past the crack, through the water, into the murky blend of colors. She tried to listen—not to Han’s muttering, or the grinding of gears, or the splintering glass—but to something deeper, something mystical.
If—when—I survive this, I must reach out to Luke for proper training, she thought even as she strained her will to hear, feel…something.
Nothing.
With a growl of frustration, Leia spun away from the window. She didn’t have time for whispers of power she couldn’t control.
“When it breaks,” she said aloud, her voice hollow but authoritative, “kick up. Hard. Take as big a breath as you can before the water floods us.”
A plop of icy water landed on Han’s forehead.
“Swim to the light,” she continued resolutely, clinging to the only hope that remained. “Look for weak spots.”
She turned her eyes upward again, to the dark uniformity of the solid ice above them.
CHAPTER 47
HAN
PURE PANIC FLOODED HAN’S SENSES as the crack in the dome above them widened. He didn’t want to die, but more than that he didn’t want to die cold.
Not again.
“You’re not going to die, Han,” Leia said, her voice as calm as the underwater sea.
Han snorted. “How do you know that?” They were near the surface now, but it didn’t matter. The ice remained impenetrable.
“Because I am not going to die,” Leia said with certainty.
That? That he could believe.
But then Leia said in a small voice, “And I need you.”
Those four words shot through him with the shock of an electrical pulse. This wasn’t her roping the Falcon into one more mission for the Rebellion. This wasn’t some higher purpose or noble cause.
It was her. She needed him.
She could love him all she wanted. Plenty of women had loved Han in his life. But need? That was different.
His hands slipped off the feeble joystick of the submersible as he looked right into her eyes.
Need was real.
An ear-piercing crack of breaking glass shattered the silence.
The glass dome above them finally gave out, the crack breaking apart under the pressure of the cold water, flooding the submersible before Han could do more than suck in one mighty, last breath of air.
His senses rioted—water stoppered his ears from sound, the salt of the ocean blurred and blinded him, the cold washed over him before the thermal disks in his vest kicked on.
The water rushed in, knocking both Leia and Han down with the force of a plasma blast. The ship itself swirled toward the bottom of the sea, the explosive flood of water driving it down, down, and Han and Leia with it.
Han clawed through the water, kicking frantically, trying not to be dragged into the depths. Once he was able to pull away from the current, his body hung, temporarily limp in the water, as he strained to see through the rapidly fading depths.
Trying to see Leia.
Instinct drove him up, toward the reedy, barely visible relative lightness of the ice-blanketed surface. A desperate bubble of air escaped him when he saw a flash of white against the unyielding ceiling of ice.
Leia.
Han shot to her, and together they beat against the ice above them. The dim, pale glow above only served to highlight just how thick the ice was.
Sure could use an ice quake about now, Han thought, half expecting one to rattle the ice and break them free.
But no. As usual, his luck ran out right when it counted the most.
Leia was still beating against the ice, both fists pounding loudly enough that the sound reverberated through the water, but not nearly loud enough for anyone to hear them, even if they were standing right above them.
No one knew where they were.
No one was coming to save them.
Han’s lungs ached, but he fought the instinct to breathe in, knowing that would mean nearly instant death.
Han grabbed for Leia’s hand. She struggled, shooting him a desperate look, fighting to the end. But Han cupped her cheek with his other hand, his fingers slipping through her loosely flowing hair. He pulled her to him, drawing her into one last longing kiss.
When their lips met, there was no cold water, no lack of air. Just the two of them, floating in the sea. Together.
Leia’s body sagged in the water, defeated. No. Not his wife. She was never defeated. Han wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his body, so tight that their thermal disks clinked together. She clung to him, their two bodies the only heat in water as cold as the void of space.
Black spots danced in front of Han’s eyes, so he closed them. Nothing would mar this moment, not even a lack of oxygen.
She’d said she needed him. Well, he needed her. More than air.
But some air would be nice about now.
Cold washed over him. The thermal disks couldn’t function well underwater.
This was it.
Then the ice above them exploded.
Han and Leia were ripped apart, their bodies swirling in the aftermath of the blast. Cold water filled Han’s nose, mouth, lungs. He gagged, choking on the salt.
Something—someone—slammed into him. Had he any air left, it would have been knocked from his chest. Vaguely, Han was aware of something swimming, hard, propelling him through the water and then somehow tossing him bodily out a new hole that had been blasted in the ice. The force of the landing on the hard ice rattled something loose, and Han found himself vomiting salt water onto the jagged edges of a cracked ice sheet.
“That’s it, get it out.”
Han almost recognized the male voice, but his mind was a chaotic mess of flooded senses. “Leia,” he croaked through a raspy voice. He turned at the sound of gagging and saw Leia’s body hunched over nearby. He crawled to her, pulling her into his lap. Her whole body shook as she curled into him. Han closed his eyes, his head sinking against her wet hair.
“We’ve got to get you both something dry,” the voice said again. Han forced his head up to look at their rescuer.
A Nautolan. Well, that explained how well the man had been able to swim and save them. His eyes drifted to the black scorch marks at the edge of the hole in the ice. Three empty flare shells had been lodged into the ice, their explosive force just enough to blow a hole through it.
“How?” Han croaked.
“Those flares are serious business,” the Nautolan said. Zalma. Han was able to piece the memory of him together. Zalma Trinkris, the head engineer of the Halcyon. “I don’t know why they were out on the shuttle, but—”
“No,” Han said, tightening his grip around his wife. “How’d you find us?” His teeth were starting to chatter, but not hard enough for his words to be incomprehensible.
“Oh!” Zalma beamed. “The trackers.”
“Trackers?” Leia asked without releasing Han.
Zalma nodded as he reached over and tapped a now malfunctioning thermal disk on Han’s vest. “This is from the Halcyon, and it has trackers. If you had to evacuate a shuttle, you’d be glad we could find you in the vast emptiness of space before your oxygen ran out.”
“Glad you found us in the vast emptiness of the sea,” Han said.
Zalma laughed, the sound dissonant given the situation. Leftover hysteria from the close call, Han thought, noting the manic edge. Zalma sobered, looking down at Han and Leia huddled for warmth together. “We need to get you back to the shuttle. Or somewhere safe.”
Han accepted the Nautolan’s hand to help him stand, pulling Leia up with him. Zalma was wet, too, and exposed to the cold air of Madurs, but he had his own thermal vest on. He caught Han’s eye, starting to unbuckle his vest and give it to Leia.
“No,” Leia said, forcing herself to walk forward. Han shook his head. He knew his wife. She would freeze before she made her savior cold.
“When I got to the shuttle, I knew something serious was up,” he said. “And that it wasn’t just a malfunction in the navisystem. Nice use of the fire extinguisher, by the way.”
Leia gave him a little bow as they plodded across the ice. Her feet slipped, and Han gripped her elbow to steady her. They were both weak, and this exposure wasn’t good—it was cold enough on the surface of Madurs, let alone when they were wet.
Zalma seemed to realize this, too; he walked faster, leading the way, and he talked faster, as if he hoped his words would distract them from the cold.
