Completely broken, Ackbar meekly followed Tarkin’s every order. He guided the Lambda-class shuttle with wooden talent, chauffeuring them with as little enthusiasm as possible. Lemelisk noted that, though the alien reacted little, Ackbar seemed to hang on every word Tarkin said, as if storing information for whatever possible use a slave might make of it.
The Death Star construction hung in orbit around the penal world of Despayre in the Horuz system. The Outer Rim territories were Tarkin’s personal stomping grounds—and he stomped as often and as hard as possible. The world below was a deep green, fissured with blue and brown rivers and shallow seas. Despayre looked far too calm to be a hellish prison planet, but Lemelisk knew the prehistoric jungles there writhed with vicious insects and predators, poisonous plants, and carnivorous crustaceans. The convicts huddled within the walls of their fortresses, hoping never to be exiled to the wilds.
The penal colony provided a ready pool of willing labor to build the Death Star. The volunteer lists carried five times as many names as the site could possibly support, and thus the workers in the space facility were expendable—but unfortunately they were also uneducated and surly, completely untrained for the type of sophisticated labor the project required.
Lemelisk directed the routine operations from his comfortable remote station. As chief engineer, he watched the progress reports to make sure all the components fit together properly. He didn’t like to venture out into the hazardous construction area, however—he wasn’t a hands-on manager.
Now, though, as Ackbar piloted the Lambda shuttle directly into the forest of girders, Lemelisk looked around, seeing bright flashes of laser welders and the glowing ends of newly smelted durasteel plates that emerged from processing plants. Curls of black smoke and the glow of waste heat spread into open space. Steam glittered in a shower of diamond-ice crystals.
When the Death Star was complete, the world of Despayre would be shrouded in an upper-orbital blanket of industrial debris as a side effect of the work. Unfortunately for the convicts, the debris would make passage to the penal colony virtually impossible. Despayre would then be off limits, and the prisoners would have to fend for themselves … until supplies ran out and the ferocious jungles came in.
“You’re making good progress,” Tarkin said, looking out the port.
Lemelisk cracked his knuckles. “Awe inspiring, isn’t it?” He had seen the plans so often, knew the details so intimately—but the actual construction still took his breath away, making him feel that all his years of exile in Maw Installation had paid off. The small Death Star prototype had been amazing as well, but that was merely a proof-of-concept model. It functioned, but it wasn’t the real thing.
“I will send my report to the Emperor,” Tarkin said. “Keep up the good work, Engineer Lemelisk.”
The Lambda shuttle proceeded through the gridwork of the Death Star and out the other side, then began a slow orbit of the external construction. The focusing eye for the superlaser gaped at them like a large meteorite crater. In the piloting chair Ackbar remained silent. The alien didn’t seem terribly thrilled at the magnificence of this new weapon.
Lemelisk smiled as the shuttle turned around and returned to the base. Everything was going so well. He felt better than he had in years, watching his dreams come to life.
Lemelisk presented the modified design to Durga the Hutt, while General Sulamar brusquely inspected every step of the process, looking over the engineer’s shoulder. Lemelisk spoke as the general pressed in, squinting and scowling. He longed for an opportunity to “accidentally” jab the general in the stomach with his elbow.
“As you know, the original design consisted of a giant sphere,” Lemelisk said, “whose primary purpose was to house the superlaser. All the framework, the decks, the external shell also made it into a garrison for one of the Empire’s largest troop deployments.”
On his floating pallet, Durga reached over to scoop a dripping handful of some blue gelatinous substance from a bowl and slurped it up with his wide muscular lips and tongue. “Mmm hmm,” he said, “we know all that.”
Lemelisk said, “But you don’t need all that wasted space. You don’t require living space for a million crew members. You don’t need TIE fighter hangars, support squadrons, dozens of docking ports—you just want the weapon itself.”
Lemelisk’s stomach growled. He wished he had eaten, though at least he had remembered to shave this time. He brushed the stubble on his chin … or was that yesterday? He blinked, then cleared his throat. On the holo projector, he called up his modified plans and pointed to the new shape.
“As you can see, I have scaled down the outer hull but increased power at the same time. In the original Death Star design, the superlaser formed the axis of the sphere. All the energy of the reactor core was devoted to powering each blast.
“Here, I have taken the superlaser itself”—the image projected the stalk of focusing lenses and high-energy multipliers—“and encased it in a cylindrical shell. Your new weapon will be the superlaser alone, surrounded by an armored hull, with appropriate navigational capabilities and a small outer ring of living quarters. Even with such reduced amenities, this vessel could hold hundreds of Hutts with their personal entourages.”
“But where is the focusing eye for the laser?” Sulamar said, clasping his hands behind his back and leaning forward. Lemelisk saw an opportunity to nudge backward with his sharp elbow, but the general stepped sideways to look from a different perspective.
Lemelisk sighed and answered, “Note the end of the cylinder. I have moved the focusing eye so that the beam can come out the end directly, a straight shot through the long superlaser that allows us to achieve greater energy conversion. We can provide more power to our punch.”
The plans sharpened to actual simulation of the completed weapon, a black armored cylinder rotating in space. As the animation began, the new weapon fired, and a brilliant beam shot from one end of the tube.
General Sulamar nodded. “That looks like one of those old Jedi weapons—the lightsaber,” he said.
Lemelisk smiled, surprised that the pompous Imperial general had seen the connection. “Yes,” he said, “now you understand why I have code named this weapon the Darksaber Project.”
Durga chuckled with pleasure. “A good name, Engineer.”
Sulamar stood stiffly, pondering the possibilities. The expression on his face tightened with anticipation. “With such a weapon we will be invincible.” He smiled wolfishly at Durga. “We can collect protection money, taxes, whatever. We can hold entire systems hostage. No one will be able to stand against us.”
Durga grinned with his huge lips and slurped another mouthful of the gooey blue gelatin. “We can become the overlords of the galaxy!”
Bevel Lemelisk switched off the animation and shut down the glowing plans. “Yes, Lord Durga—you probably can.”
MULAKO CORPORATION
PRIMORDIAL WATER
QUARRY
CHAPTER 15
Hyperspace—en route to a destination Luke Skywalker fervently hoped would become a place of self-discovery, a time to recapture the inner sharing he had experienced with Callista.
He eased back in the piloting chair of the unmarked space yacht they had flown from Coruscant. He sighed with quiet contentment, happy just to be alone with Callista—no pressures, no worries, and no mission other than to find her Force ability again. He looked over at her in the seat beside him, and she gazed back with impenetrable gray eyes. Invisible doors had locked down, allowing him to see Callista only as others saw her, without the added clues and mysteries of the Force.
She smiled, and he wanted to kiss her. Her cropped blond hair showed streaks of a darker malty brown color that lent a wildness to her appearance.
“I’ve picked out a special place for us to go,” Luke said. “A great spot. I think you’ll like it.”
Callista shrugged. “You’re the Jedi Master. Lead me and I’ll follow.”
Luke rai
sed his eyebrows. “That doesn’t sound like the Callista I fell in love with.”
She clasped his hand. “Then let’s go find her and bring her back.”
The ship flew through hyperspace on its automatic course. Luke got up from his seat and held out his hand. Callista stood beside him. She was tall, long-legged, and very attractive. Luke reached forward and tenderly cupped his palms around her cheeks, holding Callista’s face in his hands as he looked deeply into her eyes.
She looked back, unblinking. “Are you trying to probe me with the Force?”
Luke shook his head slightly, not releasing her from his gaze. “No,” he said. “I just wanted to look at you.”
But the moment was broken. He took her hand and led her to the common area behind the pilot compartment. “Let’s try a few things,” he said, “some learning techniques that worked for the other Jedi trainees.”
“But we’ve been through those already,” Callista said in frustration.
“Not like this,” he answered. “You’re different from my other students—apart from the fact that I love you, of course,” he added with a wry smile. “You’ve already been trained as a Jedi Knight. You know the techniques … you just can’t use them anymore. But there is one thing you can still use.”
“What?” Callista said, baffled as to what he planned.
He went to the rectangular wall compartment where he stowed his personal effects and withdrew two cylinders. He tossed one to Callista, and she deftly snatched it out of the air. “Let’s try a little lightsaber fencing,” he said. “It’ll get you thinking and moving like a Jedi again. Maybe that’ll be a start.” He switched on his weapon, and the green energy blade extended.
Callista looked down at her own lightsaber, intimidated.
Luke smiled encouragingly. “Come on, I’m not asking you to deflect blaster bolts with your eyes closed. Watch me, anticipate my moves. You don’t have to use the Force—just use your eyes and your reflexes.”
Callista drew a deep breath. Her eyes flashed with determination, and she switched on her own weapon. The snap-hiss from both blades sizzled through the enclosed common area. Her lightsaber shone with the rich sun yellow of topaz, and she looked past her shimmering blade to Luke. “You know this is dangerous,” she said.
He crossed his blade with hers, testing, pressing lightsabers together with a crackle of released energy. His expression grew serious. “I know it’s dangerous, Callista—but we have to take that chance. We might stumble upon some clue to bring you back to us.”
He drew back, lifted his blade, and swung at her. She raised her lightsaber to parry, easing into the contest. “These are deadly weapons,” Luke said, “but they’re also fine tests of your skill.”
Callista struck back, and her face lit with an impish grin as she took the challenge. Luke had to move fast to counter her blows. He laughed and increased his offense. Callista matched him, move for move.
Fencing with Callista challenged Luke as well, because in any other foe, he could use the Force to sense emotional states, to detect subtle changes that foreshadowed impending moves, unexpected attacks, vicious tricks. But Callista was a disconcerting blank to him, an empty spot—which made her a worthy opponent. Although she could not sense his moves or his plans, he couldn’t detect hers either.
They dueled, feeling their muscles sing with the effort, the unleashed energy and emotions, the joy of testing each other. Luke chuckled, and they continued, bright lights flashing, weapons hissing as he and Callista pressed each other. The mock battle went on for the better part of an hour.
Callista had an open, enthralled expression on her face, overjoyed to recapture some part of her former Jedi identity. She had not used a lightsaber since she had come back to life in this new body, and now—though Luke could sense no more of the Force touching her—she had regained an important piece of self-confidence.
Energy blades crossed, they looked into each other’s eyes, pressing with all their strength, neither yielding. A complete stalemate. Sweat beaded on Luke’s forehead, and he finally broke their locked gaze and stepped back, switching off his lightsaber. Callista also shut hers down.
Then, laughing, they came together and held each other for a long time.
Callista took her shift in the pilot seat as they both strapped in and watched the diagnostics. Luke kept glancing over at her. “We’re about ready to leave hyperspace,” he said.
She rubbed a fingertip along her chin. “I can’t wait to see this mysterious place you’re taking me.”
The counter ran down on the navicomputer, and the swirling colors snapped into crystal focus, funneling down into bright starpoints on the black curtain of space. Nearby hung an orange sun of average size. Several bright planets cruised along their orbital paths in the gravity well.
“Over here,” Luke said, pointing.
He watched Callista’s expression as she noticed the swollen form of a periodic comet, its gases evaporating into space, shedding a coma and a long fuzzy tail as it approached the sun.
“A comet?” Callista said. “We’re awfully close.”
Luke nodded with a secretive smile. “Yes, Callista,” he answered. “That’s where we’re going.”
CHAPTER 16
As Callista watched him, her gray eyes bright with curiosity, Luke maneuvered the space yacht closer to the wandering comet. He entered the wispy coma where gas particles and ion trails scintillated against their shields, causing static over the comm system.
“This is the Mulako Corporation Primordial Water Quarry,” Luke said. “A long-term periodic comet that comes back every century or so. Right now it’s near its closest approach to the sun, and we’re at high tourist season.”
The space yacht approached the irregular lump swathed in a mane of frozen steam. Luke pointed out squarish machines crawling over the tarnished surface, strip-mining the ice. Gas geysers blasted volatiles into space where the comet’s meager gravity could not hold them, trailing a tenuous tail along the comet’s orbit.
“But what do they do here?” Callista asked. “I’ve never heard of this system.”
“Hey, you’ve been stuck inside a computer for decades,” Luke said.
“Don’t remind me,” Callista said.
“For much of the comet’s orbit,” he explained, “the mining corporation chops away water ice, storing and distilling it. They sell it at a premium to gourmets and high-class officials who like to show off that they settle for only the very best. This is absolutely pure water, formed at the creation of this solar system. Primordial ice, never before touched or recycled through organic life forms.” Luke shrugged. “Of course, it’s chemically identical to any other water, but they don’t mention that in their advertisements.”
“But why did you choose this place?” Callista said.
The Mulako Corporation Quarry sent a homing beacon, and Luke’s guidance computer locked on, shepherding them toward a cavernous opening surrounded by lights—brilliant yellow alternating with deep purple, harsh red, and some that looked black—transmitted for customers whose eyes saw in different portions of the spectrum.
“Close to perihelion,” Luke said, “the comet becomes one of the most exclusive resorts in this sector. The climate heats up, enough of the volatiles evaporate from the ice to form a breathable atmosphere, and people can live inside the snowball. It’s very unusual. I thought you might like it—besides, no one will ever find us here.”
Their yacht passed through the portal, beyond marker lights whose beams shone like lightsabers through the dense mist curling away from the comet’s surface.
“The selling point of this resort is its transience. The Mulako Corporation mines it out each orbit as the comet hooks toward the sun and becomes habitable. They rein-stall the facilities, open it to tourists for a few months, then close down again as the comet gets too close to the sun, where it becomes unstable with too much gas evaporating, new geysers erupting, even a small possiblity that the iceball will spli
t apart from all the mining and tunneling. Then, when the comet races away from the sun and the gases begin to freeze out, there’s another several-month period when the resort is dug out again and reopened. When it finally becomes too cold, the quarry is closed to the public, and the mining company operates for the next hundred years out in deep space, strip-mining the newly deposited layers of ice.”
“I can’t wait to see it.” Callista reached over to clasp Luke’s hand.
They landed in a warmly lit reception area. Oranges and yellows shone into the ever-present mist, and porter droids appeared to unload their luggage. Luke checked in, keying their reservations into an automated terminal, and the droids escorted them into the resort facility.
He and Callista held hands as they followed the baggage droids. Callista looked around, her cropped malt blond hair swaying slightly. She blinked at her surroundings and grinned. The Mulako Corporation’s stylistic logo—the letters MC traced within circles with a long cometary tail shooting out—adorned most of the doors and fixtures.
The cometary resort was filled with water and amazing tropical caverns, far warmer than a ball of ice might have suggested. The frozen walls had been polymerized, showing ice locked behind a molecule-thin impenetrable layer and lit by soothing blue lights. Sections of the wall had been cleared away so that the frozen gases could drift out like humidifiers, sending trails of mist along the floor. Droplets of ultraclean water dribbled along the walls like precious springs. Waterfalls hissed from the ceilings in a diamond curtain that gurgled softly into drains in the floor.
Callista’s face filled with childish wonder. “This is beautiful, Luke. All the water. I love the water.”
“I know,” Luke said. “You’ve told me enough stories about how much you miss your home planet, Chad.”
Callista looked wistful. She had grown up on a waterworld, living with her father and stepmother on a sea ranch, destined to follow in the family business. But her Jedi calling had been stronger, and she had been forced to leave her beautiful oceans … though she still longed for them.
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