Star Wars: Valentine Stories

by Troy Denning - Timothy Zahn

  A Bonadan®Book

  Published by The Srengseng Publishing Group

  Star Wars: Judge’s Callby Timothy Zahn Copyright (c) 2004 by Lucasfilm Ltd. & TM. All rights reserved. Used under authorization.

  Star Wars: Corphelion Interludeby Troy Denning Copyright © 2003 by Lucasfilm Ltd. & ® or ™ where indicated.All Rights Reserved. Used Under Authorization.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the Bonadan System by The Srengseng Publishing Group, a division of Bonadan Books, Inc., Srengseng, and simultaneously in Canada by Bonadan Books of Canada Limited, Toronto.

  Srengseng is a registered trademark and the Srengseng colophon is a trademark of Bonadan Books, Inc.

  www.starwars.com

  eISBN 0-xxx-xxxxx-x

  v1.0

  STAR WARS: VALENTINE STORIES

  Troy Denning

  Timothy Zahn

  BONADAN BOOKS

  SRENGSENG

  Star Wars

  Corphelion Interlude

  by Troy Denning

  An original exclusive short story

  A flight of comets hung just beyond the observation dome, their luminous heads arrayed in a ragged double arrow, their long tails striping the dark sky with silver splendor. The largest were visibly creeping across space, and one—a blazing giant with a braided tail that seemed to stretch across half the system—was rapidly swelling to the size of a hubba melon. The panorama was just as advertised, the perfect honeymoon view, and Han Solo could tell by the gabble of three-hundred beings packed onto the small viewing floor that everyone else thought so, too.

  At Han’s side stood Leia, dressed comfortably but fashionably in a sleeveless doublet and a pair of slinky zoosha pants that Han found especially alluring. Her brown eyes were fixed on the patio below, and on her face, she wore a cordial diplomat’s expression that was more mask than smile.

  Behind them, a swarm of droning Kubaz spilled out of the turbolift and brushed past, making pointed comments about blocking access to the viewing floor.

  “Sorry about this,” Han said to Leia. A stop to watch the Corphelion Comets had seemed a romantic way to start their honeymoon—at least until they had discovered that it was the height of the season and every resort on the asteroid was badly overbooked. “I guess the private dome isn’t so private, either.”

  “I don’t care, as long as we’re here together.” Leia took Han’s hand and started down a broad set of dark, hardwood stairs. “There’s a pair of empty chaises out there in the middle. Once we settle in and order a drink, we won’t even notice the noise.”

  “Sure. A Pink Nebula sounds good.” Jostling for elbow space was hardly the romantic way Han had hoped to start their marriage, but things were bound to improve. Around Leia, they usually did. “Maybe the serving droid has earplugs or something.”

  They were halfway down the staircase when a brilliant starburst of radiance filled the sky. The Solos stopped to look and saw the giant comet splitting into a spectacular set of twins. The crowded patio fell silent.

  “Now that’s more like it,” Han said.

  The twins began to drift apart, their tails crossing as one comet angled toward the rest of the Corphelions. The other continued to swell in the darkness above the dome. Finally, when its head had grown to an apparent diameter of more than a meter, a nervous murmur began to build on the patio below.

  Leia turned back up the stairs. “Maybe we should go back to the Falcon.”

  Han caught her arm. “Not so fast.” He continued to study the approaching comet—or rather, the darkness around its edges, watching to see how quickly and evenly its head was obscuring the distant stars. “I thought you wanted to see the Corphelions?” “Not this close, Han.”

  “Relax.” As he had hoped, the stars on the comet’s lower left were vanishing by the dozens; those on the upper right were disappearing only in twos and threes. “Everything’s under control.”

  “You’ve said that before,” Leia objected. “You’re sure we don’t need to go back to the Falcon?”

  “I’m sure.” Han slipped a hand down to the small of her back. “And this time I mean it. Everything’s under control, Sweetheart.”

  Leia glanced from Han to the approaching comet, then back to Han again. Her expression grew more trusting, and she smiled slyly.

  “Okay, Flyboy.” She took his arm. “My life in is in your hands.”

  They descended the rest of the stairs arm in arm. The comet had doubled in size during the last few seconds, its tail becoming a fan that curved across a quarter of the dome. A portly Bothan couple rose with their fur standing on end and turned toward the stairs, and that was all it took to send the rest of the crowd scurrying for the evacuation stations inside the asteroid.

  Leia pulled Han into a quiet corner and reached up with both hands. As jabbering humans and growling aliens continued to shove up the stairs in a near-stampede, she laced her fingers together behind his neck and stared deep into his eyes.

  Han’s heart began to beat faster.

  “How did you arrange this?” Leia asked.

  “Arrange what?” Han was genuinely confused.

  Leia gently pulled his head close to her mouth. “The comet.” She flicked her tongue along the lobe of his ear, then continued in a sultry voice. “Come on, Flyboy, you can tell me. Did Wedge help you?”

  “Wedge? You think Wedge is out there moving comets around?”

  Leia gently nibbled his earlobe. It felt warm and . . . well, wonderful. “Lando, then. He has that big asteroid tug, and this is just his style. Grandiose, effective.” She glanced over at the now-deserted patio. “And just a little bit devious.”

  “Lando’s busy on Nkllon.” Han was keeping one eye on the comet. “You know that.”

  “You won’t tell me?” Leia slipped her hands under the hem of his tunic and playfully ran her fingers up his back. “You’re sure?”

  “Well, I’m—”

  Leia dug her fingertips into the flesh behind his shoulders.

  “Pretty sure,” Han said. “I think.”

  The comet was the size of an Endorian moon now, and he was beginning to worry that his pilot’s eye had gone weak. The different rates at which the head was obscuring the surrounding stars suggested it was approaching at an angle, but unless the stars on the right stopped disappearing—and soon—the comet would not actually miss the resort.

  “Uh, Leia?”

  “No—I’ve changed my mind, Han.” Leia lowered her hands and, one arm still wrapped around his waist, turned to look at the sky. “I don’t want to know how you arranged this.”

  “But—”

  “Sshhh.” Leia touched a finger to his lips. “I just want to look. It makes me wish we could forget everything back on Coruscant and stay here forever.”

  “You don’t say?” The approaching comet was a large as a bantha now. Han glanced toward the empty stairs, trying to estimate how long he could keep his real secret--that he may have miscalculated the comet’s trajectory—before they would have to make a mad scramble for the evacuation shelters. “I just might be able to arrange that.”

  Leia leaned her head against his shoulder. “If only you could.”

  “Oh, I could . . .” The comet grew so bright that its radiance lit the whole dome and there were no stars visible around it at all. Deciding that things were starting to get dangerous, Han pulled Leia out of the corner. “In fact—”

  The white spike of an antitail finally appeared in front of the head, and the entire comet began to angle across the dome—away from the resort. Han exhaled in relief, then put on his best lopsided grin and turned to Leia.

/>   Leia looked puzzled. “In fact what, Han?”

  “In fact . . .” Han waited while the comet drifted over their heads to the other side of the dome, then said, “You’re going to be really impressed with what I’ve arranged next.”

  Leia cocked her brow. “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

  Han nodded. “I have a reason.”

  The asteroid entered the comet’s tail, and billions of tiny dust grains exploded against the resort’s particle shield. Space above erupted into a glittering veil of micro-flashes.

  “Okay, I’m impressed,” Leia said. “Really impressed.”

  “That was nothing,” Han said. “This is what I was talking about.”

  He drew Leia close and lowered his lips to hers. She pressed herself tight against him and returned the kiss passionately, and that was how they remained until a loud cheer from atop the stairs interrupted them.

  Han opened an eye and, finding an audience of two dozen comet watchers leering down at them, broke off the kiss. “Leia?”

  “Yes, Han?”

  “Maybe we should go back to the Falcon after all.”

  Leia took his hand and started for the stairs. “Han, I thought you’d never ask.”

  Star Wars: Corphelian Interludeby Troy Denning Copyright © 2003 by Lucasfilm Ltd. & ® or ™ where indicated. All Rights Reserved. Used Under Authorization.

  Star Wars

  Judge’s Call

  by Timothy Zahn

  An original exclusive short story

  The two small, potbellied aliens bowed low in front of Luke Skywalker. “I hear the Jedi and obey,” one of them intoned, his nasal voice hitting three distinct notes at the same time.

  “I also hear and obey,” the second said, somewhat less enthusiastically. Bowing again, they backed away.

  With a quiet sigh, Mara Jade Skywalker looked at her datapad. These two had been the twenty-ninth and thirtieth complainants since Luke had started this session at sunrise this morning. Thirty complainants down. Five billion to go.

  She set the datapad aside, trying hard not to let her simmering annoyance get the better of her. No, of course the entire planet wasn’t lining up to talk about their problems and get their share of Jedi wisdom and justice. But today, at least, it sure as Coruscant vermin felt like it.

  The robed Presenter was approaching the platform now, his own datapad clutched reverently in his hand as he no doubt prepared to outline the situation and problem of complainants thirty-one and thirty-two. The last time Mara had looked out in the waiting chamber, there had been at least fifty of the aliens sitting in stony silence, either marshalling their thoughts or glaring across the room at their opposing complainant. Ten or more arguments yet to hear today, and the sun was already dipping low in the sky.

  Mentally, Mara shook her head. Yes, she resented these people for demanding so much of her husband’s time and energy. And to be honest, she had to admit she even resented Luke a little for his quick and unselfish willingness to give up that time for them.

  But she could also see that his presence here was accomplishing more than the raw numbers would indicate. At least five of the controversies Luke had delivered judgment on today had been churning for ten years or more, with neither party willing to budge an inch. Two of those five had been multigenerational, in fact--stretching back some forty years to disputes between the complainants’ fathers. And yet, despite the long histories, in every one of those cases both sides had accepted Luke’s ruling and agreed to abide by it. Not necessarily happily, but they had agreed.

  They would most likely stick to those settlements, too. The planet had a long history of honoring Jedi verdicts in such matters, dating back to the height of the Old Republic. How they’d managed during the dark days of the Empire she didn’t know, but the number of generational disputes implied they hadn’t done it very well.

  She looked back at her datapad. And after all, she’d known what she was getting herself into when she’d agreed to marry Luke in the first place. Despite a decade of his equally dedicated work with the academy, there still weren’t nearly enough Jedi to go around for this sort of duty.

  The Presenter reached the platform. “Master Jedi, we have an unexpected but urgent request,” the alien said. “Second Agricultural Coordinator Kei Ras Cirali requests your immediate presence at his Karrish Mountain retreat to discuss a problem he is unable to solve.”

  “I see,” Luke said, his voice grave. “Even the powerful sometimes need the counsel of others, I suppose. Where is this retreat?”

  “In a cave at the base of Karrish Prime,” the Presenter said, twitching his ears to point at the range of snowcapped peaks visible in the distance out the wide window behind them. “If you are willing, we have an airspeeder and driver awaiting you.”

  “Thank you,” Luke said, standing up. “I’ve spoken with Master Cirali before. If he needs us, we’re more than willing to go to him.”

  “We of the city echo his thanks for your forbearance,” the Presenter said, bowing. “I will send the complainants home, to gather again whenever you are free to return.”

  “Thank you.” Luke looked at Mara. “Come on, we’d better get going.”

  Neither of them spoke again until they were well beyond the edge of the city, heading toward the row of mountains. “You say you know this Cirali?” Mara asked.

  “Not really, but I’ve spoken to him once or twice,” Luke told her. “He handles most of the coordination for the agricultural area east of the Karrish mountain range.”

  Mara pulled up a mental image of the maps she’d looked over on their way into the system. “Good-sized region.”

  “The second most important one on the planet,” Luke agreed. “It’s a partially hereditary position, dating back to the days of the old Sultaries.”

  The Presenter’s use of the word retreat hadn’t adequately prepared Mara for the elaborate and stunning hall carved into the rock at the base of the mountain. A handful of liveried aliens bowed low as Luke and Mara passed between them down a high-ceilinged corridor and into a large office/conversation area.

  Cirali was waiting for them on a large couch, nearly lost amid a dozen large and vibrantly colored cushions. “Ah--the Jedi,” he called, lifting both hands in greeting as the attendants closed the doors behind them. “Welcome, Master Skywalker. And you must be his blushing bride.”

  Mara gave her husband a sideways look. “‘Blushing bride’?” she echoed ominously.

  “Just a figure of speech,” Luke hastened to assure her. “We’re here, Master Cirali, and prepared to deal with the problem.”

  “I am grateful,” Cirali said. “The problem, Master Skywalker, is one of time. Tell me, what does one do when there seems to be no time for the important things of life?”

  Mara felt something twinge within her. That was the precise problem she and Luke were having these days: too many responsibilities, too little time. If a being who coordinated operations in a major agricultural area like this couldn’t solve it, it wasn’t very likely Luke could.

  To her mild surprise, though, Luke merely smiled. “There’s always time for the important things,” he told the alien. “The trick is to recognize the need, and to create the necessary time.”

  “You speak wisely,” Cirali said, rising from his couch. “Come. The consulting room awaits.”

  He led the way to one of the hanging curtains behind his couch and pushed it aside, revealing a metal door built into the solid rock of the cavern. At a wave of his hand, it opened into a small turbolift car. “I will await your return,” he said, bowing.

  Luke led the way into the car, and a moment later he and Mara were moving upward through the mountain. “So who exactly are we seeing in this consulting room?” Mara asked as the car slowed to a stop. The door opened--

  She caught her breath. Beyond the door was a vast chamber, as beautifully and luxuriously appointed as the best palaces she’d ever seen across the galaxy. The room had the delicate scent of d
ew-sparkled velanie flowers, and one of her favorite kithra sonatas was playing softly in the background. At the far end of the room, a huge transparisteel window gave an awesome view of the mountains and the rivers and valleys beyond, all of it in sharp relief against the shadows thrown by the setting sun.

  And aside from the two of them, the chamber was deserted.

  “As I said,” Luke murmured as he put his arm around her and led her out of the turbolift car onto the thick carpeting, “the trick is to create the time.”

  Mara blinked at him...and then, belatedly, she got it. “You set this whole thing up, didn’t you?” she asked. “Coming to this system in the first place--Cirali’s summons--this chamber--”

  “Formerly the mountain retreat of the Third Sultara,” Luke interrupted, waving a hand over it. “Finest accommodations in the sector. And of course, as long as we’re officially in consultation with the Second Agricultural Coordinator, no one’s going to come looking for us.”

  He took her hands and stepped close to her. “Happy second honeymoon, Mara.”

  For a long moment they kissed. Then, almost reluctantly, Mara thought, he pulled gently away. “Come on, let’s take a look around,” he said. “I gave Cirali a list of the things you especially like, and he promised to furnish as many of them as he could.”

  “Yes, I already noticed the flowers and music,” Mara agreed, glancing around. “He laid in all my favorite foods, too, I suppose?”

  “Enough to last us as long as we want to stay.” Luke hesitated. “I hope this will help make up for my ignoring you so much lately.”

  “No problem,” Mara assured him. And standing here, just the two of them, it suddenly wasn’t a problem. “I understand that you also have commitments to the rest of the New Republic. I just need you to myself every once in awhile.”

  “I need it, too,” Luke told her. “Please don’t ever let me forget that.”