Madine risked a burst of comm traffic tightly focused to the two craft paralleling him. "Trandia," he said, "take the lead. Thread the needle. Find a way through these rocks so we can get to the construction site and see what's going on there."
"Yes, sir," Trandia said, her voice bubbling with exuberance at being selected. He would let Korenn lead the flight back out.
Trandia's A-wing shot through the clusters of asteroids, arcing in tight curves and accelerating through openings created by stony bodies drifting apart. Her rear engines glowed blue-white as she increased speed. Madine and Korenn kept pace with her, locked on and following her tortuous route.
Madine admired Trandia's flying as her A-wing battered its way through the space-borne pebbles. Her forward shields glowed faintly as she increased power. Madine hated to break comm silence again, but he opened another channel.
"Trandia, no need to impress me. Be careful."
"Don't worry, sir," she said.
Before Madine could say anything else, though, Korenn suddenly jerked his A-wing and dropped back. "Sir," his voice crackled with static, "I've been hit by a small piece of debris that penetrated my rear shields."
"Trandia," Madine snapped, "throttle down. Korenn, give me a status report. How much damage?"
"Partial engine loss," the young pilot said, and as Madine looked through the cockpit window he saw sizzles of blue lightning around the engine banks of Korenn's A-wing. More than minor damage: the core was breached.
"Korenn, listen to me—“ Madine said, his heart pounding. The crippled A-wing slung to one side out of control and spun as the asteroids continued to hammer around them like a giant grinding machine.
"Loss of altitude control," Korenn said in a rising voice. "I can't stabilize!"
"Korenn!" Trandia shouted. Her A-wing swung around.
"Pull up, pull up!" Madine shouted.
Trandia zoomed toward her companion. Madine didn't know what she expected to do, but before she could reach him, Korenn's A-wing slammed into a jagged shard of rock. His engine core buckled.
The ship erupted in an aftershower of fire.
Trandia cruised low over the still-smoldering wreckage on the surface of the large asteroid; the detonation had flung hull plating and slagged components into orbit.
"Checking for survivors, sir," Trandia said, her voice strained close to the breaking point.
Though Madine knew it was hopeless, he allowed her a few moments to cruise over the spinning rock until she brought her ship close to his again.
"Nothing to report, sir," she said. Her voice was bleak.
"I know," Madine said. "But we have to proceed."
"It's my fault, sir," Trandia said. She sounded as if she were begging.
"And it's my fault for ordering you to take the lead," Madine said. "And the Chief of State's fault for ordering the mission in the first place, and the Hutts' fault for building the weapon at all, and so on, and so on. We could spend a great deal of time assigning an endless chain of blame-- but I'd rather accomplish our mission. Wouldn't you?"
Trandia took a long moment to respond.
"Yes, sir," she said finally.
They continued slowly, nearing the heart of the asteroid belt. Edging forward with low engine power, their running lamps off, they came at last upon the spangle of lights at the construction site.
Madine set his course and transmitted a comparable trajectory to Trandia's A-wing. Once locked into the appropriate path, they shut down their engines and drifted along, just like other hunks of space wreckage.
With dry eyes and an intent stare, Madine watched the construction site approach with infinite slowness. He drank in the details: a huge cylindrical fortress, a gleaming metal structure almost completed, like a giant tunnel in space. Along its axis, this battle station appeared to contain one of the planet-cracking superlasers. The Hutts had extensively modified the Death Star plans. That could only mean they had impressive engineering expertise available to them.
He and Trandia landed their A-wings on a large asteroid at the outskirts of the construction site. The newly built battle station rode high against the black star-strewn sky. Madine sent a narrow-burst communication again.
"We'll stay on this asteroid to do our reconnaissance," he said, "then we'll suit up and attempt to infiltrate."
CHAPTER 38
As their damaged ship limped away from Hoth, Callista worked side by side with Luke Skywalker. They desperately cross-wired systems, by-passed ruined components, and fastened vital equipment back into place, trying to repair each failure before another one occurred.
The wampa ice creatures had not actually breached the yacht's outer hull, but they had caused a wealth of damage. The craft's sublight engines, operating at barely half power, had lurched away from the frozen planet, reluctantly heaving them into orbit. The engines attempted to fail several times, but somehow struggled on.
Their ship's hyperdrive was gone, their navicomputer beyond repair. They plunged headlong into the broken asteroid field at the fringes of the Hoth system with only minimal shields and virtually no control over their course. The asteroids began to grow thicker around them, battering at the tiny ship. Callista did not voice her growing dread.
Luke looked up at her with red, bleary eyes and a haggard face. Callista knew she probably looked just as bad with her malt blond hair mussed and her gray eyes bloodshot, but Luke's pallid skin had begun to flush again with hope. "I might be able to use the Force to navigate us," he said. "At least enough to keep us from a major collision--but I don't know where we're going to go."
"I wish I could help you," Callista said. "But I can't. I can't, and I'm afraid to try."
"You fought well with the lightsaber against the snow creatures," Luke answered reassuringly, "and I didn't feel any glimmer from the dark side as I did on Dagobah."
"No," Callista said. Her words were a whisper. "I didn't let it out." She knew, though, that the dark side had been there like black wings hovering at the edge of her consciousness, demanding to be set free. She had refused--but, oh, the temptation had been great. ...
In a shower of sparks and burned circuits, the life-support systems gasped and died. Luke and Callista pulled components from nonessential computers trying to get the systems functioning again. "It's only at about ten percent," Luke said. "That's not going to help us much."
Callista shivered. The temperature had already begun to drop in the cabin. "We're not going to get out of this, are we?" she said with quiet, brutal honesty.
Luke stared at her for a long moment, then his face forced a smile. "Not in any obvious way," he finally said with a sigh. "That just means we have to look for a solution that isn't obvious."
Luke and Callista studied the torn environment suits the wampas had shredded. Somehow, using several repair kits and other patches they found in forgotten packages left by some unknown station mechanic on Coruscant, they managed to piece together one of the suits. But only one.
Within the hour, the atmosphere began to thin noticeably, and their body heat did little to warm the cabin as the cold of space leached it away.
Luke ran his fingers along the crude, lumpy patches in the suit, and he took Callista's hand. "You have to wear it, Callista."
"I won't let you sacrifice yourself," she said. "You wouldn't let me do it on the Eye of Palpatine."
Luke raised her hand to his cheek. "I have no intention of sacrificing myself. I can go deep into a Jedi trance and slow down my metabolism, put myself practically in suspended animation. Then we wait, and hope."
Callista eyed the repaired suit, still reluctant, then she gazed into Luke's clear blue eyes, wishing she could read his thoughts and his emotions.
"Maybe I can use the Force to contact someone," he said, "send out a message with my thoughts. I doubt anybody'll be able to read it, but we have to try."
Callista slowly pulled the thick fabric of the environment suit over her long legs.
"Yes," she said, defea
ted, "we have to try." Before she clamped her helmet in place, she kissed Luke. "Will you be all right?" she said.
He smiled wanly at her. "As long as you're here to watch over me."
Luke's blue eyes fell closed and rolled upward slightly as he sank into himself, using his Jedi techniques to enter a deep trance that walled him off from the rest of the universe.
Callista longed to join him, but her grasp on the Force had become so slippery she could not touch her abilities. She was unable even to begin the deep Jedi trance that Luke brought upon himself.
She watched him, feeling her heart ache with love as she struggled with the silence of the Force in her mind. Once again, she saw the dark shadows of possibilities in her mind, luring her with an easy way to use the Force again- Join the dark side! -even if it meant she had to succumb to evil influences.
"No," she whispered to herself, though she knew she could not disturb Luke now. She fled from the dark alternative, and it frightened her that the persistent shadows had come more easily this time.
The silent cabin grew colder and colder. The environment suit crinkled around her as she curled up next to Luke, conserving energy and wanting to be next to him. He appeared to be a statue. Frost formed on his cheeks from the faint exhalations of his breath. She desperately wished she could touch his thoughts, share in his efforts to send out a plea for help--but Luke's mind remained closed to her.
The crippled ship drifted through the outer fringes of the asteroid belt with minimal shields and failing life support, while Callista sat alone in the darkness.
Inside the featureless Force shell he had wrapped around himself and his mind, Luke Skywalker centered his thoughts into a single projectile, a tangible shout across space and time. In his mind his words thrummed along the lines of Force that connected everything in the cosmos.
He recalled hanging on Cloud City 's lower antennas, dangling above the clouds as he held on for dear life. He had issued a similar call then, before he had known the truth about his sister ... before he had realized there was a connection between them. Luke had still known whom to ask for assistance.
"Leia!" he called from the far fringes of the asteroid belt, flinging his thoughts undirected across space. "Leia ... Leia ..."
CHAPTER 39
Exhausted from the fraying effects of constant tension during the diplomatic mission to Durga's fortress-- compounded by the startling knowledge that Admiral Daala was still alive and gearing up for another assault against the New Republic --Leia sat in her comfortable seat in the diplomatic shuttle. Han piloted it away from Nal Hutta, avoiding the Smugglers' Moon entirely and arrowing out to open space where Ackbar's fleet waited.
Relieved that he no longer required stuffy diplomatic finery, Han wore his familiar old clothes again: black vest, white shirt, and dark pants that had seen better days. Leia wished she had brought along comfortable clothes herself, but she had forgotten to pack them while preparing for her surprise performance on the Hutt homeworld.
Beside her, Threepio helpfully chattered his list of all the duties waiting for her upon returning to Coruscant. His thin voice rattled off one obligation after another; some she had forgotten, some she had ignored, and some she just didn't want to remember. As Threepio continued with unbridled enthusiasm for the safe trivialities of a governmental life, Leia found herself lulled into an uneasy doze. The smooth vibrations of the diplomatic ship hummed into her bones like an electronic massage. Her thoughts drifted. Her breathing became more regular....
And suddenly a spear of thought lanced through her.
Leia sat bolt upright as a convulsive shudder made her skin crawl. She blinked her large brown eyes and gasped. The thought came again like a bullet of ice shooting through her mind.
Leia ...
Leia!
"Luke?" she whispered.
Threepio, still reciting his list, finally noticed that something was wrong. "Mistress Leia, are you all right?"
Han turned from the pilot's seat, an expression of concern on his face. "Hey, Leia--what is it?"
Leia shivered and squeezed her eyes shut.
She ran her fingertips across her forehead ... and the voice continued to echo through her skull, a distant pleading call with no details, just the repeated summons.
Leia!
"It's Luke," she said. "He's in trouble."
"Do you know where he is?" Han said, his face filled with questions he did not ask. In their years together, Han had learned not to inquire about certain details of the Jedi, because he would never understand anyway. He no longer considered it a "hokey religion," but he still didn't comprehend it.
"No," she said. Luke's ethereal voice faded to the back of her mind where it remained, its insistent summons growing no worse but issuing a continuous call. "I think I can find him if I concentrate hard enough, though. We have to--”
“Hey, look!" Han pointed out the cockpit as they approached the New Republic fleet.
Wedge's escort frigate Yavaris hung in front of them like a jagged monstrosity. Connected to one of the docking ports was the familiar battered shape of the Millennium Falcon. "Chewie must be back with Artoo." Han spun in his chair and looked at Leia. "When we get to the fleet, we'll give them our news about the Hutts. Then we can take all these warships with us to rescue Luke--or we can just go in the Falcon."
"All right." Leia bit her lower lip. "I don't think the whole fleet would help, though.
We've got to go soon." She swallowed, trying to ease her dry throat. "We'll have to brief Ackbar on what we learned about Imperial activities. He'll need time to plan strategy."
When the diplomatic shuttle pulled into the receiving bay of the Yavaris, they sprang out of their ship with the New Republic armed escort. Before Han could get his bearings, the towering lanky form of a bellowing Wookiee rushed to greet him. Chewbacca embraced Han so hard that Leia thought she could hear bones crack.
Wedge Antilles came running up breathless. "Han, Leia! Glad you're back. Chewie and Artoo found out something on Nar Shaddaa, but once they heard you were on your way, they insisted on waiting."
Chewbacca barked a rapid story that Leia could not understand. Artoo also wheeled up whistling and chittering. "Wait a minute, you two," Leia said, raising her voice.
Han held out both hands, palm outward. "Chewie," he said, "hey, buddy-- talk slower! I can't understand you."
It took several minutes for Han to extricate the message about Imperial General Sulamar linking up with the Hutts to build their superweapon. This--tied with the information that Admiral Daala had unified the remaining Imperial forces and was planning her assault-- made the galaxy a dangerous place indeed.
Leia listened, sick with anxiety for Luke, yet knowing she had to give instructions, issue standing orders for her fleet before she went rushing off.
"General Antilles," Leia said, "let's go to the war room and link up with Admiral Ackbar. We've got to discuss strategy, but Han and I have to leave with all possible speed-- my brother, Luke, is in trouble. Everything's happening at once."
"Luke's in trouble?" Wedge asked. "Let's go!"
They rushed to the sealed war room, and a coded transmission brought a holographic simulacrum of Admiral Ackbar into the room with them. Leia drummed her fingertips on the table, looking around, feeling the prodding of Luke's mental call that hadn't lessened. Luke needed her. He was trapped somehow. She had to leave. She had to leave.
"The Hutts are building their own superweapon with Imperial assistance," Leia began. "And our old friend Admiral Daala is unifying a new fleet to strike against the New Republic . All this is happening right under our noses."
She glanced from Wedge's square-jawed face to Ackbar's glassy, unreadable Calamarian eyes. "I want all of our teams on yellow alert from this moment on. Make sure everyone is ready for immediate deployment to battle, wherever the Imperials may strike." She turned toward Wedge. "But, we mustn't tip our hand. The only advantage we have is that they don't know we know what they're up
to. They probably realize we suspect something because we're here snooping around ... but they won't think we've found anything. You will continue your maneuvers, as before.”
"Right now Han, Chewie, and I will take the Falcon and go rescue Luke. We can't let the Hutts think anything has changed. Wait for your report from General Madine's mission and act accordingly if I haven't returned. I trust you all." Leia stood with a determined look on her face. "Now I have to go save my brother."
Han took her hand as they ran to the Falcon.
Leia sat strapped into her seat, still concentrating, following Luke's gradually fading request for assistance. Her Force abilities had been sharpened through Luke's training, and though she couldn't give Han any direct coordinates for his navicomputer, she could take him in the right general direction; as they approached closer, she narrowed down Luke's location.
The battered space yacht looked like a derelict careening in a random path along the fringes of the asteroid belt. Artoo-Detoo squealed as he detected the ship on the sensors, and Chewbacca triangulated on its position as he steered the Falcon to the rescue.
With the Falcon's tractor beam, they took the ruined yacht in tow and brought their airlocks together, sealing them so that Han, Leia, and Chewie could open the outer hatch and enter the darkened wreck.
Leia had noted disturbing marks on the outer hull, not simply dents and scars from meteor impacts--but long scratches that looked as if they had been made with impossibly sharp claws.
She couldn't understand what he had been doing out in the Hoth system. When he and Callista departed from Coruscant, Luke had intended to go with her to the exclusive and romantic cometary resort of the Mulako Primordial Water Quarry--but something must have changed.
Panting, Han dropped down into the empty hold of Luke's ship with a thud, and called up for breathmasks. "Almost no air left in here,” he gasped, "and it's freezing cold. Reminds me of Kessel."
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