Before the Storm

by Michael P. Kube-Mcdowell

  Once again Ackbar and A’baht exchanged glances. This time A’baht lost. “Princess, perhaps you can explain to me the logic in starting a search and announcing a safe hiding place at the same time.”

  “Ackbar said there’re over two hundred inhabited worlds in that region,” Leia said. “That should give you enough to keep you busy until I’ve reached an agreement with the Yevetha.”

  “Koornacht is centrally located, and the Yevetha are technologically adept,” said A’baht. “It’s a likely location for at least one of the shipyards.”

  “The Yevetha hate the Empire as much as anyone,” said Leia. “They ran them out of Koornacht at the first opportunity. You can be sure there are no secret weapons hidden there.”

  “Perhaps. And perhaps Nil Spaar will view the missing vessels with more alarm than you have,” said A’baht. “Why not ask him for permission for my ships to search the Cluster for the Black Fleet? Make him say no for himself.”

  “You obviously don’t understand the situation with the Yevetha, or you would never make such a request,” Leia said sharply. “Admiral Ackbar, I know you understand.”

  “I understand your reluctance, and I understand General A’baht’s concern,” said Ackbar. “Given that, as you say, the Yevetha are no friends of the Empire, I would like to see the question put before the viceroy. He could surprise you.”

  “No,” said Leia with a shake of her head. “The question alone is a threat. The presence of warships would be an open provocation. He could never agree to such a thing.”

  A’baht pressed her again. “Let him say so. Put the question before him, as the admiral suggests.”

  “No,” Leia said firmly. “Don’t ask me again. General, you may take the Fifth into Hatawa and Farlax to search for Nylykerka’s phantoms. You will respect the boundaries asserted by the Duskhan League, and not enter the Koornacht Cluster without explicit permission from me. Is that understood?”

  A’baht rose from his seat and made himself tall. “I understand,” he said. “Please excuse me, Princess. I have a great deal to see to.”

  “Good day, General.”

  He saluted smartly and was gone.

  “I want your word, too, Admiral,” Leia said, turning to Ackbar. “I won’t have all my efforts with Nil Spaar compromised. I’ve worked very hard to earn his trust. I don’t intend to lose it because some junior intelligence analyst couldn’t get his lists to agree.”

  “You are Chief of State, and my superior,” said Ackbar, standing. “You do not need my word, but I give it to you—your orders will be obeyed. But I cannot give you my approval. I believe you’ve wrongly placed a lesser matter above a greater one.”

  “Curious—that’s exactly how I felt listening to you and General A’baht,” Leia said. “I considered it quite a concession on my part to agree to send the Fifth into those sectors at all. You might try to appreciate that a little more, and lecture me a little less.”

  “Han, darling?”

  Han’s face was buried in a pillow, and his answer was muffled. “Um—what?”

  “I’m thinking something I don’t like thinking.”

  Rolling over, Han made as polite a show of interest as he could manage half asleep. “What’s that?”

  “These aren’t negotiations anymore. With Nil Spaar. All they are is conversations.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Leia sat up in bed. “In the beginning, I thought what I had to do was learn enough about them to find something they wanted—wanted enough to make them reconsider their position.”

  “You can’t bargain with a man who doesn’t want to buy,” Han said.

  “No,” said Leia. “You’re right about that. The viceroy was sent here to preserve the status quo. No trade, no cultural exchange, no technical or scientific information access, mutual agreement on borders and territories, strict border controls. To the Yevetha, only the status quo is acceptable—and the status quo is isolationism.”

  “Well—that’s their choice, isn’t it?”

  “But I want to bring N’zoth and Coruscant closer together. This could be the most important alliance of the last ten years—or the next fifty.”

  “There’s always someone who doesn’t want to join the club,” said Han. “Sometimes to be contrary. Sometimes because they like not having to answer to anyone, follow anyone else’s rules. Independence is worth something, Leia. I knew a man on the Praff runs, name of—oh, blast, what was his name?—Hatirma Havighasu. He always worked alone. Said cooperation was for cowards.”

  “How did that work for him?”

  “Well—he couldn’t take the big jobs, of course. Or the ones where you’ve got to have someone to watch your back. But he was still alive when I moved on. I imagine he probably still is, tough as he was.”

  Leia sighed. “Maybe that’s it,” she said. “Maybe the way the Yevetha see themselves, they have to be standing alone, owing no one anything. The viceroy hasn’t given me a single concrete reason to hope for an agreement on any terms but his—except for the fact that he comes back day after day.”

  “Then why continue?” Han said, propping himself up on his elbows so he could see her better in the dimly lit room. “It’s been eating up your time and stealing your energy for two months now.”

  “Because Nil Spaar’s not like that,” said Leia. “He’s reasonable, even though the League isn’t ready to be. He’s even friendly at times, even though the League doesn’t want to be. Right now, the only thread that connects the League and the Republic is our personal relationship.”

  “Pretty thin thread, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t think so. The viceroy is more open-minded than whoever wrote his orders. I have a very clear sense that he wants me to succeed—he’s trying to give me time. He hopes I’ll find a way to bring us together.”

  “Are you sure you’re not just trying one more time to win your argument with Luke?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If the Yevetha want to hide away out there like so many hermits, I’m not sure why they should care how we feel about it,” Han said, shrugging. “Unless you’re thinking about twisting arms. Which you probably could, this time.”

  “I’m not thinking about any such thing,” Leia said tersely. “Haven’t you been listening?”

  “I’m just trying to figure out why it matters so much to you to make something happen when this business with the viceroy is obviously going nowhere,” Han said defensively.

  “Maybe that’s why,” Leia said, looking down at her hands. “Maybe because I’m the only one in that room with him. No one else can do this but me.” She hesitated. “Maybe some little part of me is still trying to prove that I belong here.”

  “No one questions that.”

  “That’s kind, Han, but it’s not true. It’d be no trouble at all to make you a list of a hundred senators who’d be delighted to see me go.”

  “Well—you can’t please everyone. If everybody likes you, you’re probably not doing your job.”

  “It’s not about being liked,” Leia said, then hesitated. “I guess I question whether I belong here.”

  Han rolled toward her. “Now that’s just crazy.”

  “No, it isn’t. I never realized how much Mon Mothma did, or how hard it was. This job is so overwhelming. Everyone always wants a piece of you. It takes someone special to deal with it all.”

  “You are someone special, boss lady.”

  “Some days I just don’t feel up to it,” she said, shaking her head. “Behn-kihl-nahm, now, he’d be a terrific president. He’s got the experience, the insight, the patience—he’s been here more than thirty years, Han. Half the time I feel like an accident of history. What happens if you and Luke don’t get it into your heads to rescue me? Poof. No Princess Leia.”

  “I seem to remember a certain feisty young princess taking charge of her own rescue,” Han said dryly. “I don’t know if any of us would have gotten out of there without all of us.”
/>   “The point is, I could easily have died on the Death Star,” Leia said. “I don’t doubt that my father was capable of killing me to get what Grand Moff Tarkin wanted.”

  “You never have talked about that.”

  “I don’t like even thinking about it,” she said.

  “He didn’t know you were his daughter.”

  She smiled sadly. “That says something, doesn’t it? Oh, listen to me—I’m sounding more and more like Luke all the time. This is why I hate looking back. Nothing good comes from looking back.”

  “So why are you doing it?”

  “Because you asked me why these negotiations matter to me,” she said. Then she quickly amended her answer, saying, “No—that’s not fair to you. It’s not your doing. I’ve been lying here for an hour afraid to go to sleep, and I can’t think of anything else but.”

  “Oh,” said Han. “Did you dream about Alderaan again?”

  “Twice in the last week,” said Leia. “And that’s another reason to question myself.”

  “Because you have bad dreams? Anyone who was there would.”

  “Tarkin said I had dictated the choice of targets for the Death Star’s demonstration,” Leia said softly. “I haven’t been able to make myself stop hearing that. I still see the explosion.” She looked away. “And sometimes I can’t help feeling as though they died because of me. That I survived because I betrayed them. And what kind of qualification is that?”

  “Nonsense. They died because of Tarkin,” Han said. “He only said that to manipulate you. I hate to see that it’s still working.”

  “Memories have a long reach,” she said, settling back against her pillows. “I just realized something else, Han. About why this matters. And it’s a better answer to your question than my doubts about belonging where I am.” She shook her head slowly and closed her eyes. “My father did so much to divide the galaxy. I feel as though I have to do what I can to unite it.”

  “You can’t take all that on—”

  “I can’t not take it on. I have my demons, too—Luke’s not the only one. That’s why you can never ask me to walk away,” Leia said. “I don’t know if I belong in this job, and it makes me bone-tired and half crazy sometimes, but I want to be here. Here, maybe I can make a difference.” She turned to her husband in the darkness. “That’s all I’m trying to do in that room with Nil Spaar, Han—make a difference. Is that wrong?”

  Han reached for her hand and squeezed it affectionately, forgivingly. “No. There’s nothing wrong with that. But you might think about throwing in a vacation here and there, when you start to feel the walls closing in. Let someone else mind the store for a while.”

  “There isn’t anyone else,” she said, with a hint of sadness. “They come here to see the president. So that’s who I have to be.”

  “Viceroy, before we recess for the day—I wonder if I could ask a favor of you.”

  “What is that?”

  “I wonder if you might be able to satisfy my curiosity on a historical matter.”

  Nil Spaar bowed his head. “If I can, Princess. I am not a historian.”

  “This is recent history,” Leia said, “well within your own lifetime.”

  “That is no guarantee that I am acquainted with the answer,” the viceroy said with a smile. “But ask, and I shall see what I can tell you.”

  “When the Empire occupied the League worlds, did they establish any shipyards there?”

  “Oh, yes,” Nil Spaar said. “Several of them. This history I am well acquainted with. We Yevetha are skilled in matters of making. It is a gift of our very being. These hands”—he waggled six long, glove-covered fingers before his face—“are sure. These minds”—he tapped his thorax, just below his neck—“learn quickly. But the Empire made our gifts our curse. Thousands of my people were made to work as slaves to repair the very machines that were used to oppress us, and to wage war on your Rebellion.”

  “When the Empire left Koornacht—”

  “They took all that they could with them, and destroyed what they could not. The shipyards, the spaceports, the power stations that fed them, even our own few vessels—killing more than six thousand Yevetha in the process. It was one final act of savagery to end a reign of cruelty,” said Nil Spaar. “But, tell me, Princess—how is it that you ask this question? I know your face, and this is not idle curiosity.”

  “No,” Leia admitted. “My defense advisers have become concerned about the possibility of old Imperial capital ships in the patrol area of the Black Sword Command—Farlax and Hatawa. It’s more a matter of bookkeeping than anything else, but I’ve had to give my permission for some further investigation.”

  “Your advisers are only prudent to insist on it,” said Nil Spaar. “They serve you well to worry over such things. Tell me, how many ships are they seeking?”

  “Forty-four. Viceroy, I can’t offer you anything but my goodwill. But you could be of great help to me in what should be a small matter,” she said. “If you could ask your historians to look at the list of missing ships, and relay what you can about the fate of any that may have been in Koornacht—”

  “You ask us to revisit old unpleasantries,” said Nil Spaar.

  “I’m sorry. I was only hoping to keep the search vessels as far from Koornacht as possible—perhaps even make the search unnecessary.”

  “I did not say you should not have asked. I would, in your position.”

  “Thank you for understanding.”

  “Nor did I say we would not help,” Nil Spaar went on. “My mission is to protect my people. If I can help put the fears of your advisers to rest, then I am serving that duty. Give me the list. I will transmit it to the proctor of records and antiquities, and we shall see what can be learned.”

  “I want you to know, Admiral, that I do not plan to make a habit of idle exercise,” said Ackbar, wheezing as he walked along the cinder track beside Drayson.

  “I thought you should know that Leia gave him the list.”

  “What?”

  “At the third session, this evening.”

  “She should not have done that,” Ackbar said darkly. “What could she be thinking?”

  “She asked the viceroy for a report on what the Yevetha know about the missing ships,” said Drayson, his voice calm. “In effect, she asked him to search his own pockets, so the Fifth doesn’t have to frisk him.”

  “How foolish of her.”

  “But logical, from a certain point of view. She trusts him.”

  “Do you?”

  “I’m not paid to be trusting,” said Drayson.

  “And if the Yevetha are holding those ships?”

  “Then these conversations with Nil Spaar are every bit as important as the princess believes them to be.”

  “I do not like the way he has separated her from her staff. She should have talked to us before doing this,” Ackbar said, shaking his head slowly.

  “But she didn’t,” said Drayson. “There’s one bright spot to consider, though. When he transmits that list home, we should finally be able to break their encryption key. The list is more than long enough, with highly distinctive sequences.”

  Ackbar did not seem to take much comfort from Drayson’s words. “In the meantime, we may have tipped our hand—and the Fifth Fleet sails in two days. What am I to tell General A’baht?”

  “Nothing,” Drayson said firmly. “There’s nothing we can tell him yet. Let’s see how the viceroy responds to Leia’s request. That may tell us something useful.”

  The list Leia had given Nil Spaar was now yellowed by disinfectant and sealed behind a heavy layer of transparent isophane. It was the first Republic artifact the viceroy had allowed into his quarters on the Aramadia—and that only because he needed to think at length about what it meant.

  For more than an hour he carefully reviewed the plan he had been following, considering whether the list before him altered any of its assumptions. In the end he concluded that it did not. All would continue a
s before. Only the timetable might change.

  “They know,” he signaled his lieutenant on N’zoth. “Make ready. It will not be long.”

  Then he walked to the bulkhead and opened the night-womb where his nesting awaited him hopefully. He sank back into its comforting softness and soothing scent, letting it enfold him in darkness, enclose him in shelter, embrace him in fond, tender concern. Bliss came on him, and he surrendered to the joy of reunion.

  “I have good news for you, Princess,” said Nil Spaar as they met the next morning in the center of the Grand Hall. As he spoke he handed a copy of Leia’s list back to her, and she scanned it quickly. The majority of the forty-four names had been marked, in one of two colors.

  “I have consulted with those most knowledgeable in this matter,” he went on, “and they can account for all of the vessels I have indicated. The greater number were destroyed in the shipyards at N’zoth, Zhina, and Wakiza. The others are known to have taken part in the destruction and retreat.”

  “Viceroy, I’m overwhelmed. This is most welcome news—more than I’d hoped for. And to have an answer so quickly makes me all the more grateful.”

  Nil Spaar nodded. “No great difficulty was involved, Princess. It was simply a matter where we had knowledge that you did not. Shall we sit?”

  “Of course,” she said, and they settled in their familiar places. “Viceroy, I wish that I could repay this favor in kind. Is there no question that we could answer for you? A matter of science, of history—perhaps even your own history? The Republic has full access to the galactic libraries of Obra-skai.”

  “No,” said Nil Spaar. “I’m sure your offer is well meant. But I do not think your libraries give importance to that which the Yevetha value. I feel I must tell you that those who gave me the information you asked for urged me to also bring you the names of the six thousand, four hundred and five Yevetha who died that day. I was told I should correct you, as parent corrects child, telling you that your interest in the fate of machines over the fate of living beings is unseemly.”