Thrilled, Tigris took his seat. He had never been permitted to sit at Lord Hethrir’s feet before!
As Tigris sat down, Anakin stirred and woke. Careful of the precious burden of the child, Tigris tried to hide his terror. What if he did something wrong, what if he dropped Anakin, or caused him to cry?
But Anakin looked into Tigris’s eyes, stuck his thumb in his mouth, snuggled against Tigris’s shoulder, and fell asleep again.
The guests approached Hethrir, making a second set of obeisances.
“This one is rather young, is it not, Lord Hethrir?” Lord Qaqquqqu asked, gesturing toward Anakin, smiling wide to show he was joking.
“Yes, too young,” Lord Hethrir said easily. “We shall have to let it grow—or send it back to where it came from.”
“Back, my lord?” Lady Ucce exclaimed. “Would that be wise—” She cut off her comment a moment too late, as she realized what an insult she had offered to Lord Hethrir. “I mean to say—oh, of course, how silly of me, of course you meant you would wipe its memory and then put it back. You are so wise.”
“Or you may allow me to have it,” Lord Cnorec said. “I think it is adorable. You would not be troubled with it, and I would make it worth your while.”
“I will keep it,” Lord Hethrir said. “It amuses me. You need not worry that it will reveal your existence—or your profession—to the New Republic.”
All three guests bowed a third time. Tigris watched with awe as Lord Hethrir’s words, words alone, controlled the guests. He toyed with them, for of course he had no intention of giving Anakin to anyone. The child was the key to his plans.
The guests feared Lord Hethrir, though each one owned an armed ship, perhaps even a fleet of ships. Hethrir’s guests had saved themselves and their resources from the fall of the Empire. They had hidden themselves, and their great riches, and followers, and starships, invisible to the perception of the usurpers.
They gave their allegiance to Lord Hethrir. When the Lord was ready, when the Empire Reborn vanquished the New Republic, he would become Emperor. These guests and all his other followers would acknowledge him publicly.
Tigris wanted to be at his side when that happened. He wanted to wear the palest blue coat of the Empire Youth, or the light blue bemedaled uniform of a Proctor, or even the rust-colored tunic of a helper.
He wanted the Lord to acknowledge him.
Anakin shifted in his arms. Tigris smoothed the little boy’s hair and whispered to him, to keep him from disturbing Lord Hethrir’s meeting.
I must prove myself, Tigris thought. I must prove that I’m worth more than a nursemaid!
“My time is short today,” Lord Hethrir said. “Let us conclude our business quickly.”
An image formed between the guests and the glowing wall of body-wood. The image displayed the children culled from the training group. The guests inspected them.
“Soon,” Hethrir said, “we will travel to Crseih Station to secure my alliance with Waru. My followers are gathering now. Each one will wish to choose from among these children.”
He gestured to the image. The guests examined the children dispassionately.
“You may bid against each other for the license to distribute.” Lord Hethrir named the sum at which the bidding must start. He smiled and pointed to the ugly black-on-black fanged creature, now Anakin’s pet. “That one is not sentient, so I will give it free to whichever of you wins the license.”
“Good woof,” Anakin said softly.
The guests glanced at each other uneasily, then back at Hethrir. Even Tigris was shocked by the magnitude of the amount Hethrir demanded.
But Lord Hethrir is always fair, Tigris thought. The group he offers is exceptional, of course—and it will seal the treaty with Waru!
“That is a large amount …” Lord Cnorec let his voice trail off without even adding the honorifics due Lord Hethrir.
Hethrir frowned.
“My lord!” Lord Cnorec added quickly.
“Have I not been good to you, Cnorec?”
“Yes, my lord!”
“Have you not prospered through your association with me?”
“Yes, Lord Hethrir! But—” Lord Cnorec stopped himself, too late.
“ ‘But,’ Cnorec? ‘But’ what?”
“Nothing, my lord.”
Hethrir gazed at Lord Cnorec in silence.
Cnorec broke before Hethrir’s gaze. “I only meant … we grow tired of working in secret, my lord! We grow tired of waiting for the rebirth of the Empire!”
“You doubt me, Cnorec,” Hethrir said softly.
“Not at all, my lord! I only wish—I only hope—” He gasped for breath. “I anticipate living—” He struggled to draw air into his lungs. “—beneath—your—” His face grew red, and a tiny trickle of blood flowed from one nostril. He touched it and looked at his stained hand in disbelief. “—your—rule!”
He collapsed and lay still. Tigris stared at him, horrified that he would question Lord Hethrir, shocked by his punishment.
Lord Hethrir made no gesture, no command, yet two Proctors appeared, lifted Lord Cnorec’s body, and carried him from the receiving room.
Stunned, Lady Ucce and Lord Qaqquqqu tried without success to fasten their gazes elsewhere, to behave as if they had not witnessed their colleague and rival’s downfall and death.
“He should have been patient a moment longer,” Hethrir said pleasantly. “The Empire Reborn is at hand.”
Lady Ucce and Lord Qaqquqqu reacted with surprise and awe and anticipation. Lord Cnorec was forgotten.
“You may consider part of your bid as a contribution to the success of the Empire Reborn,” Hethrir said.
“I will bid,” said Lady Ucce.
Lord Qaqquqqu countered Lady Ucce’s bids inexorably. The winner of the auction would be in Hethrir’s good graces. The loser might well follow Lord Cnorec.
But when the bidding reached double the original amount, Lord Qaqquqqu began to sound nervous.
“I beg your forgiveness, Lord Hethrir,” he finally said. “I cannot obtain such a sum in good time to pay you.”
“To contribute to the Empire Reborn,” Lord Hethrir said softly.
“Of course I always intended to make a contribution,” Lord Qaqquqqu said, “beyond what I might have bid.” He named a sum half the original price, then quickly doubled it when he noticed the minuscule lift of Lord Hethrir’s eyebrow. He made a low bow to Lord Hethrir. “Please accept this contribution to our cause.”
Lord Qaqquqqu turned to Lady Ucce. “You have bested me, madam.”
Lord Hethrir made a slight, and elegant, motion of acceptance.
Lady Ucce had won the auction, the group of children, the right to offer them to the Empire loyalists in Lord Hethrir’s treaty gathering. If any remained, she could sell them into the trade.
Though the trade supported Lord Hethrir’s achievements, Tigris pitied anyone who could only command loyalty by owning a person’s body. Such people enslaved other beings. Lord Hethrir, now … Lord Hethrir freed beings into his service.
Tigris felt sorry for the children in the group that Lord Hethrir had just sold. Not because they had been sold. That was their fate, if they were not suited to serve Lord Hethrir directly. He felt sorry for them because their place in Lord Hethrir’s plan was now at an end.
The children who remained in the school still had a chance to be promoted, to be purified, to be reborn in the Lord’s service, to wear the Lord’s colors, to receive his orders.
Tigris glanced down at Anakin. The child was heavy. Tigris’s arms ached with holding him. But Tigris bore the pain gladly.
You’re lucky, small child, Tigris thought. You’ll do much more to help my lord than I can ever hope to.
Lady Ucce transferred the payment from her accounts to those of Lord Hethrir.
“And naturally,” she said, “I too will make a contribution, without recompense, to the cause of the Empire Reborn.”
Lady Ucce glanced
again at the display of her new purchases. She said nothing, but her eyes were hungry.
“Power,” Lord Hethrir whispered to her. “Power is what is important.”
She gazed at him.
“Power over other sentient beings,” the Lord said.
A slow smile curved her lips.
“You may do me a service,” Lord Hethrir said.
“Gladly, my lord.”
Again, Lord Hethrir’s signal was undetectable to Tigris.
The newest member of the Empire Youth entered silently, proud in his new coat, carrying a bottle of fine wine and three delicate glasses on an inlaid tray.
“You may take this boy into your service, and establish him within the Republic.”
“It will be my pleasure to secure a position for him, Lord Hethrir.”
“I will settle upon him … a substantial trust.”
The Youth could not hide a smile of pride. He opened the bottle and poured a splash for Lord Hethrir to taste. Tigris admired his lord for never using a food-tester, even when he was away from his own kitchens and wine cellars. His actions demonstrated his bravery, his invulnerability, better than any words.
Lord Hethrir picked up the wineglass. The crystal was so delicate, so fine, that it rang when the Lord touched it. The high clear note filled the chamber. Hethrir put the glass to his lips. The music stopped. Hethrir tasted the wine, closed his eyes, swallowed, smiled.
Lord Hethrir allowed the Youth to fill his glass, and Lady Ucce’s. But Lord Hethrir himself filled the third glass, and gave it to the Youth. They all pointedly ignored Lord Qaqquqqu, who watched unhappily.
Lord Hethrir raised his glass. Lady Ucce and the Youth mirrored his gesture.
Tigris bowed his head.
Anakin struggled around to watch, his ice-blue eyes wide.
“To the Empire Reborn!”
“To the Empire Reborn!”
“To the Empire Reborn!”
The airlock door of the passenger freighter slid aside, opening onto darkness. This far from any star system, too little starlight existed to illuminate the cavernous entrance.
Leia’s pressure suit clasped her warmly, shielding her from the frigid airlessness of space. Artoo-Detoo followed her, with Chewbacca bringing up the rear. He looked strange and sleek in his form-fitting pressure suit. Cautiously, Leia entered the freighter.
Nothing happened. No security system queried her presence; no light responded to her motion.
The freighter’s power had been cut to such a low level that the gravity barely functioned. Leia’s feet touched the floor, but she could jump up and bounce off the ceiling, twice her height, if she chose.
Silent in the vacuum, Artoo-Detoo accelerated to pass her. In the low artificial gravity, the droid’s treads catapulted him upward and forward in a long, uncontrolled bounce. Artoo-Detoo landed on the other side of the airlock, bounced off the bulkhead, and finally came to rest. The droid circled slowly and unhappily, searching for danger.
Chewbacca’s surprised snort echoed in Leia’s comlink. He loomed behind her. He was stiff and sore and he probably could not move very quickly—not that moving quickly was a good idea in these conditions—but she was glad to have him backing her up.
Leia turned on her searchlight. Artoo-Detoo flashed his spotlights into the corners of the big cubical freight-loading airlock. Leia found the interior controls. The last thing she needed was to be trapped inside the freighter with only Alderaan’s cleaning droids left to try to get her out. But neither Artoo nor Chewbacca had been willing to stay behind, and she certainly would not send them in alone.
The controls responded to her commands. She set the airlock to cycling.
The outer door slid shut. It made no sound, but its vibration rumbled through Leia’s boots. Despite the warmth of her suit, she shivered. The last streak of black space and distant, pinpoint stars vanished.
Air entered the freight dock. The air pressure crept upward. Leia fidgeted, wishing she could run the process at full speed. But the power plant had been damped down almost to nothing. She could not risk draining the life-support systems of the sleeping passengers.
Chewbacca made a plaintive cry.
“I don’t know what I’m looking for,” Leia said. “The kidnappers stopped here, and I don’t know where they went next. If you have a better idea I’d love to hear it.”
Chewbacca snorted.
Leia’s pressure suit sampled the air. It was breathable, though rather low in oxygen. It would be safer to stay in her suit and not worry about contamination—or passing out from anoxia.
Finally the inner door slid aside and admitted Leia to the passenger freighter. The ship was divided into huge sections, each filled with racks of sleep coffins. The life systems balanced on the edge of failure. Some coffins had gone dark; the people inside had died.
Chewbacca moaned in memory and despair. Leia touched his hand in sympathy. These people had been stolen, as he had been. Their fortune had failed them.
Leia rubbed the dust from the transparent carapace of one of the sleep coffins. Beneath the glass, a humanoid lay like a fairy-tale prince. His long hair, striped gold and brown, curled in tangles around his face and grew along his chin, like sideburns.
“From Firrerre,” Leia said. She swiped her glove along the windows of several of the other sleeping coffins. All the people were from the same world. “The Empire wiped them all out—wiped out everything on their world. They used a biological weapon … but it’s so dangerous no one ever dared land there again. I thought the people were extinct.…”
If she could save them, find them a suitable world to settle, they could rebuild their civilization.
Leia wished she could find a shipful of people from Alderaan.
Maybe I will, she thought. Maybe one of those other ships carries people from my homeworld. Maybe—somehow—maybe the Empire abducted some of my people. Before it destroyed my world …
Leia set the first sleep coffin to “wake.”
“Can you find the controls of this ship?” Leia asked Chewbacca. “Can you get the power back?”
He set off down a dark corridor. Leia hurried after him, walking with a low-gravity skiing bounce. Artoo-Detoo followed, whistling plaintively. Every time the droid tried to speed up, he left the ground and spun his treads uselessly until he came to rest.
Chewbacca loped unerringly through several intersections and took several turns through the complex corridors. Either he was familiar with passenger freighters from his own experience, or he had found reason to study their plans. Leia decided not to question him; if he wanted to tell her his experiences, he would.
In the depths of the ship, he found a small chamber with no portholes, not even any view-screens to the outside. The room was close and stuffy. Displays glowed faintly with low readouts.
Chewbacca studied the levels for a moment, then traced a pattern into the controls. The ship came alive around them, lights brightening, air shusshing through the ventilation. Even the brittle cold eased. Leia’s pressure suit stopped straining to keep her warm.
“Good,” Leia said. “Thank you. I’m going back to the sleep coffin so the Firrerreo doesn’t wake up alone.”
Chewbacca growled in negation and showed her a separate readout.
“What is it?”
But he was already loping out of the control room, bounding in long low-gravity leaps along the corridor. Leia followed as quickly as she could. She had little experience in very low gravity or free fall; she did not want to go tumbling in the air like Artoo-Detoo.
Chewbacca’s cry of grief and rage echoed through the hallway.
Leia found him in a cabin as white and clean as a surgery. He stared upward.
A Firrerreo hung from strange, writhing webbing that hugged her body against the ceiling.
Her eyes were open and staring. Her sharp-featured face was gaunt. Her long hair, striped with black and silver, drifted in the air currents as if it were alive. The webbing cut into
her golden-tan skin. She moved.
“She’s alive!” Leia cried.
The webbing tightened, cutting into her emaciated arms and legs. The Firrerreo froze without a sound. Only her eyes moved; her gaze touched Leia for a moment. Nictitating membranes crept across her black irises, making her look blind.
“Get her down, quick—can you reach her?”
Chewbacca stretched upward and tentatively poked at a stray web filament.
“No …” The Firrerreo’s voice was hoarse, growling.
Chewbacca snatched his hand back as the filament whipped into a spiral that nearly captured him.
Behind them, someone snorted in disgust and amusement.
Leia spun toward the new voice. Chewbacca grabbed for his blaster. Unfortunately, he was unarmed.
The Firrerreo Leia had awakened stood in the doorway, clutching the frame to keep himself on his feet.
“You can’t get her down like that,” he said. “You can only get yourself tangled in the web.”
“It’s torturing her!” Leia said. “We have to free her.”
Artoo-Detoo extended connectors into the cell’s data port. Like a locksmith, the droid tested one connector module, then another.
The data port violently ejected Artoo-Detoo’s module. Spinnerets popped out of the wall and spurted web silk over the droid. Artoo-Detoo squealed and spun his treads backward. This time the low gravity aided him, for he backflipped into the air and ripped the webbing away before it could immobilize him.
The Firrerreo laughed.
“Stop it!” Leia snapped. She grabbed the web silk and pulled it away from Artoo-Detoo’s carapace. She could remove the soft, delicate fibers, but she could not break them. When she tried, they cut into her skin. She brushed them quickly from her hands, before they drew blood. Artoo-Detoo backed away from the filaments.
Chewbacca growled, glaring at the Firrerreo.
“What’s your name?” Leia asked. “How can you think this is funny?”
“I might ask you the same thing,” he replied. “After all, you’re the intruder.”
The Crystal Star Page 13