The pressure bomb! Leia thought. It wasn’t detonated to aid the kidnapping—it was detonated to destroy evidence. Evidence that someone used the dark side.…
She lay on her back and let the tears come. Above her, the translucent stone ceiling shone with pearlescent light, its delicate, intricate carvings a mystery to her as to everyone. The contemporary societies of Munto Codru used the ancient castles as provincial capitals, or avoided them as haunted places. But a previous civilization had built the labyrinthine palaces. The civilization had written its history on rock walls carved so thin that they looked like water-worn glass. The civilization had disappeared, leaving only its castles and its unreadable stories.
The carvings blurred beyond Leia’s hot tears.
In the outer room of Leia’s apartment, the annunciator chimed. Leia dragged herself to her feet.
Perhaps there’s a message! she thought.
She hurried out of her bedroom. Mr. Iyon stood in the doorway.
“You’ve heard—?”
“No, madam,” he said. “Please, I assure you, they’ll communicate by morning.”
“They could be anywhere by then!”
“No, they’ll be near.”
“They aren’t near!” Leia insisted. “Sir, we’ve waited long enough. By now they’ve surely escaped!”
“But, madam, escape is unnecessary—more convenient to stay near. Especially with young children. They could even be in the castle.”
“In the castle? How could they be? They aren’t!”
“What better place to hide than right beside our ears? The castle is thousands of years old. Its basements and tunnels extend into the ground—even into the mountain—”
“I’d know! Don’t you see, I’d know if they were near! We must begin a search.”
Mr. Iyon gazed at her solemnly. Gently he took her arm and guided her to a chair. When Leia was seated, Mr. Iyon sat facing her, perched gingerly on the edge of the soft couch.
“If you order it, madam, I will of course obey—”
“I do order it!”
“—but I wish to be certain you understand what you are asking.”
“I—” She hesitated. “You have more to tell me.”
He inclined his head in a slow nod. He gazed at the elaborately patterned carpet.
“If anything disturbs the negotiations,” he said, “everyone loses face. The kidnappers will be forced to recoup.”
“By hurting the children?”
“They would sacrifice their own ambitions, if they injured anyone of noble birth.” He stopped, and continued with difficulty. “But if you refuse to negotiate, the kidnappers may feel inclined to make some sacrifice—to demonstrate their sincerity.”
Leia could not understand what he meant.
How could the kidnappers make a sacrifice, if their own traditions forbade them to hurt her children?
“Your wyrwulf,” she said. “You’re afraid they’ll sacrifice your wyrwulf.”
Mr. Iyon raised his head and looked her in the eyes. He said nothing.
“But it isn’t coup kidnappers!” Leia said. “Don’t you understand, no one from Munto Codru is involved!”
“Are you certain, madam?”
She was—she had been—but she was so tired, and she was so torn by grief, so tempted to believe that in the morning, everything would be resolved, the children would be safe.
I won’t answer yet, Leia thought. For a few minutes, I can think about what Chamberlain Iyon has said.
Mr. Iyon clapped his two left hands together. One of his aides entered, carrying a tray that bore a delicate antique stone pot, a teacup, a plate of cookies. Light shone through the sides of the teapot, liquid gold moving gently among carvings of the same vintage as the castle.
“I took the liberty of bringing you some tea. It is soothing.”
She had eaten nothing all day. A moment ago she would have sworn she could never eat again, but her dry mouth suddenly watered and her stomach growled, most inelegantly, when she smelled the fragrant tea and the thin nut cookies.
“Thank you, Mr. Iyon,” Leia said, grateful for the interruption. “But you haven’t brought yourself a cup. There’s another, on the sideboard.”
“I’ve eaten already, madam.”
“I insist,” Leia said, suddenly, reflexively suspicious, and embarrassed at herself for her reaction.
The aide fetched another cup, poured the tea, and withdrew. Leia picked up her cup, and a cookie.
“These are Chef’s best sweets,” she said. “Have you had them?” She bit into one, confident that the chef would no more let someone adulterate his recipe than he would swing from the sconces above a state dinner. The cookie vanished in her mouth like air, leaving a sweet, spicy flavor and taking the edge off her hunger.
“I cannot eat sweets, madam.” He sighed. “But I will join you in a cup of tea.” He drank the cupful in one gulp.
Surprised, still suspicious, even wondering if she had made a mistake by eating the cookie, Leia sipped her tea. She was amazed at her ability to perform any normal action. She felt like she should be running, blaster in hand, chasing the enemy.
In the old days, she thought, we knew who the enemy was.
“It is good of you to bring the latest Coruscant fashions to Munto Codru,” the chamberlain said, trying to change the subject. “News travels so slowly, this far from the center of government.”
“What—?” She remembered what she was wearing: hiking trousers and a soft leather shirt and heavy boots. She started to explain that she had not been able to face putting on another fancy court dress. Then she wondered if he was subtly chiding her for her choice in clothing.
But he was perfectly sincere. Leia blushed. She searched for a way to explain without having him suspect she was making fun of him.
“It isn’t quite the height of fashion,” she said. She sipped her tea again. “But it’s comfortable, and—” She shrugged.
Mr. Iyon yawned. His thin lips pulled back from his prominent teeth. He snapped his mouth shut.
“I beg your pardon, madam!”
Leia accepted his apology with a nod, then she yawned too.
“We should have had pepper tea,” she said, “instead of this. Delicious though it is.”
Leia struggled to remember the question she was trying to answer. Mr. Iyon had said that the children must be near. Leia doubted that was possible.
If they were hidden nearby, she thought, wouldn’t I know it? Wouldn’t I feel it? They must have been stolen by a master of the dark side.…
Maybe it isn’t the dark side after all, Leia thought, desperately seeking comfort. Maybe the castle’s built on some unique mineral, maybe it disrupts my perceptions. If ysalamiri can disturb the Force, why not a phenomenon from the depths of a planet?
Leia yawned again. Like a mirror image, so did Mr. Iyon. Sleep drew Leia irresistibly.
“We must …” Her words trailed off. She could not recall what she had been about to say.
“Good night, madam,” the chamberlain said. His voice was kindly. He rose, pushing himself from the couch like a man exhausted, levering himself with all four arms. He stumbled once on the way to the door. Leia was too sleepy to be surprised by his lapse in grace.
Her need for sleep overtook her dread. She told herself to get up, but the chair was so comfortable …
I’ll just rest here a moment, she thought.
Chapter 2
Just like old times, hey, kid?” Han Solo said to Luke Skywalker.
Sitting in the copilot’s seat of the Millennium Falcon, Luke grinned.
“Just like old times except the Empire isn’t trying to shoot us out of the sky—”
“You got that right.”
“And Jabba the Hutt isn’t after your hide for dumping that spice load—”
“Yeah.”
“And nobody is trying to collect old gambling debts from you.”
“Also true,” Han said, thinking, But I might ge
t around to running up some new gambling debts. After all, what’s a vacation for?
“Finally, you can’t ogle every beautiful woman who comes by.”
“Sure I can,” Han said, then hurried to defend himself as Luke chuckled. “Nothing wrong with looking. Leia and I know where we stand with each other, we trust each other, she’s not jealous.”
Luke burst into outright laughter.
“And you wouldn’t mind,” he said, “if she flirted with the Kirlian ambassador. Good-looking guy, that Kirlian ambassador.”
“Nothing wrong with looking,” Han said stubbornly. “Or a little innocent flirtation. But the Kirlian ambassador better watch his hands. All four of them. Hey, kid, listen, flirting is one of the best inventions of civilization.” Han grinned.
Luke hated it when Han called him “kid.” That was why he did it. He stared out into hyperspace.
“You ought to do more flirting yourself,” Han said.
“If I might be of service, Master Luke,” See-Threepio said, leaning forward from the passenger seat. “I have an extensive library of love poetry at your disposal, in several languages suitable for the human tongue, as well as etiquette, medical information, and—”
“I don’t have time for flirtations,” Luke said, “or love poetry. Not right now …”
Threepio sat back in the passenger seat. At the corner of Han’s vision, the droid looked like a shadow. To disguise himself, See-Threepio had covered his glossy gold finish with a coat of purple lacquer. Han had not yet gotten used to the change.
“Don’t be so damned dedicated,” Han said to Luke. “Don’t Jedi Knights get to have any fun? Little Jedi Knights have to come from somewhere. I’ll bet old Obi-wan—”
“I don’t know what Ben would have done!”
Luke spoke in a tone of distress, not anger. The fundamental loneliness of the young Jedi struck Han deeply.
“I don’t know what other Jedi Knights did,” Luke said softly. “I didn’t know Ben long enough, and the Empire destroyed so many records, and … I just don’t know.”
Han wished Luke could find someone to share his life and his work. Han’s marriage to Leia grew and strengthened with each year, with each day. As his own years of happiness continued, Han was increasingly troubled by his brother-in-law’s solitude.
“Take it easy, Luke,” Han said. “Take it easy. You’re doing great—”
“But the traditions—”
“So if you have to make them up as you go along, that’s not so bad, is it?” Han asked. “We always were pretty good at bluffing. In the old days.”
“In the old days.” Luke sounded glum.
“And who knows what we’ll find when we get where we’re going? Maybe some more Jedi Knights to help with the school”
“Maybe,” Luke said. “I hope so.”
The Millennium Falcon swept out of hyperspace, diving through streamers of light into normal space.
The alarms shrieked and the radiation shields snapped into existence around the Falcon.
Han swore. He had expected a heavy radiation flux in this region—he had outfitted the Falcon to withstand it—but nothing as powerful as the X-ray storms raging around them.
When he had checked the ship’s systems to make sure none were damaged, Han took a moment to look outside. He whistled softly in awe.
A dense, brilliant starfield spread all around his ship. Two star clusters collided: Bands of red giant stars, like veins of glowing blood, meandered through regions of white dwarf stars. The stars clustered so closely that they formed one huge chaotic system, spinning around each other, pulling each other into different dances, one snatching star-stuff from the surface of another.
Chaos reigned in the impossible circle-dance of stars; no one could predict the changes each star’s pattern would take—if anyone could find a pattern to start with. Soon, measuring by astronomical time, the cluster’s stars would fly off in all directions. Or perhaps the whole cluster would collapse in upon itself. It would squeeze its mass into the size of a planet, a moon, a fist, a pinprick. And then it would vanish.
“If I may be so bold …” See-Threepio said. “Despite the extra shielding I can feel X rays penetrating my outer shell, all the way to my synapses. I can hardly imagine what they might do to your more delicate biological structure. Crseih Research Station was constructed to withstand this assault. Might I suggest that we get beneath the spaceport’s shielding as soon as possible?”
As if to punctuate See-Threepio’s comment, a bright flash of light with no apparent source streaked across Han’s vision; he recognized it as a cosmic ray traveling across his retina.
“Good thinking, Threepio,” he said.
He laid a course for the Crseih Research Station.
* * *
Han piloted the Millennium Falcon through the strangest star system he had ever approached. An ancient, dying, crystallizing white dwarf star orbited a black hole in a wildly eccentric elliptical path.
Eons ago, in this place, a small and ordinary yellow star peacefully orbited an immense blue-white supergiant: The blue star aged, and collapsed.
The blue star went supernova, blasting light and radiation and debris out into space.
Its light still traveled through the universe, a furious explosion visible from distant galaxies.
Over time, the remains of the supergiant’s core collapsed under the force of its own gravity. The result was degenerate mass: a black hole.
The violence of the supernova disrupted the orbit of the nova’s companion, the yellow star. Over time, the yellow star’s orbit decayed.
The yellow star fell toward the unimaginably dense body of the black hole. The black hole sucked up anything, even light, that came within its grasp. And when it captured matter—even an entire yellow star—it ripped the atoms apart into a glowing accretion disk. Subatomic particles imploded downward into the singularity’s equator, emitting great bursts of radiation. The accretion disk spun at a fantastic speed, glowing with fantastic heat, creating a funeral pyre for the destroyed yellow companion.
The plasma spiraled in a raging pinwheel, circling so fast and heating so intensely that it blasted X rays out into space. Then, finally, the glowing gas fell toward the invisible black hole, approaching it closer and closer, appearing to fall more and more slowly as relativity influenced it.
It was lost forever to this universe.
That was the fate of the small yellow star.
The system contained a third star: the dying white dwarf, which shone with ancient heat even as it froze into a quantum crystal. Now, as the Millennium Falcon entered the system, the white dwarf was falling toward the black hole, on the inward curve of its eccentric elliptical orbit.
“Will you look at that,” Han said. “Quite a show.”
“Indeed it is, Master Han,” Threepio said, “but it is merely a shadow of what will occur when the black hole captures the crystal star.”
Luke gazed silently into the maelstrom of the black hole.
Han waited.
“Hey, kid! Snap out of it.”
Luke started. “What?”
“I don’t know where you were, but you weren’t here.”
“Just thinking about the Jedi Academy. I hate to leave my students, even for a few days. But if I do find other trained Jedi, it’ll make a big difference. To the Academy. To the New Republic …”
“I think we’re getting along pretty well already,” Han said, irked. He had spent years maintaining the peace with ordinary people. In his opinion, Jedi Knights could cause more trouble than they were worth. “And what if these are all using the dark side?”
Luke did not reply.
Han seldom admitted his nightmares, but he had nightmares about what could happen to his children if they were tempted to the dark side.
Right now they were safe, with Leia on a planetary tour of remote and peaceful worlds of the New Republic. By this time they must have reached Munto Codru. They would be visiting the
beautiful mountains of the world’s temperate zone. Han smiled, imagining his princess and his children being welcomed to one of Munto Codru’s mysterious, ancient, fairy-tale castles.
Solar prominences flared from the white dwarfs surface. The Falcon passed it, heading toward the more perilous region of the black hole.
Han set the shields as high as they would go, and sped through the dangerous radiation. The accretion disk blazed wildly, its light harsh and actinic.
Neither white dwarf nor black hole possessed natural planets, only a few bits of distant debris and a halo of frozen comets. But the white dwarf did possess one artificial planetoid.
Crseih Station had been a secret Empire research facility. During the rule of the Emperor, it had moved from covert place to hidden location to secret destination. Wherever it went, it carried with it a reputation of evil.
Most of the records of its work had been destroyed when the Empire fell. Its researchers had fled, to surrender to the New Republic or to disappear. Han knew only one thing about Crseih for certain. It had been sent to this star system to adapt the destructive power of the black hole to the martial ambitions of the Emperor.
Crseih had failed, but it still existed, hidden out here on the edge of civilization, isolated by the disruption of the exploding, dying stars. Some inhabitants remained, content to be free of the Empire. They also lived outside the New Republic, without the protection of its justice.
Without the protection, or the restraints.
Han plunged the Millennium Falcon into the shadow of Crseih Station. He breathed a sigh of relief. Light from the white dwarf still illuminated his ship, but the station blocked the intense X rays of the black hole.
Like a patchwork umbrella, powerful shielding covered half the irregular artificial planetoid of Crseih Station. As the station had grown, the patches had spread. Shielding formed the residence domes, and the corridors of the airlinks. Transparent to the visual spectrum, it protected the equipment and the inhabitants from high-energy radiation. The shielding shimmered in patterns of shadow. Wherever a particularly intense burst of radiation assaulted the shielding, it darkened.
Han set the Millennium Falcon down on a bare patch of blasted stone. Crseih had nothing much in the way of a spaceport. A few itinerant hyperdrive mechanics and refuelers. A rental company that specialized in shielding.
The Crystal Star Page 3