The remote shut off the scan light and a tiny panel went up, revealing the number pad. A five-number sequence for all of them. Very simple, Brakiss had said, to destroy them all. It was the small units that were hard. Kueller had to specify the unit-batch numbers. This one would be easy.
He stepped out of the light as he punched in the first number.
Leia was shouting.
Skywalker was moving.
Neither of them would reach him.
He punched in the second, and the third, wishing the dizziness would go away.
Leia raised her hand.
A white creature appeared behind Luke.
Kueller punched in the fourth number, and then the fifth.
The remote beeped its acceptance, and relayed the commands all over the galaxy.
Fifty-four
Artoo bleeped again, this time with force.
“Nooooooo,” Threepio said, his eyes hidden.
A loud, long, sustained crash made him bring his hands down. Astromech droids were breaking through the one-way glass. It coated Brakiss. He was screaming and pulling glass shards from his hair. The scrambler was on the floor. Droids were converging on him, and without hesitating, he turned and ran through a side door. Droids followed, as his screams echoed through the hallway.
Artoo beeped in satisfaction, then went to the computer array and jacked in.
Threepio went around the deactivated astromech droid, and watched Artoo’s jack rotate. “Whatever are you doing?”
Artoo bleebled.
“How can you deactivate so many detonators from such a distance?” Threepio said. “Delusions of grandeur, that’s what you have. Delusions. We have to get out of here before Brakiss comes back. We have to find Master Cole.”
Artoo blapped at him, shushing him.
Threepio watched.
Then Artoo squealed.
“What? What?”
Artoo screamed, and Threepio waved his hands in distress. “What do you mean they’re being activated? Every new droid will explode! We’ll die here a thousand times over. They’ll never even find pieces of us!”
Artoo whistled, then bleeped commands.
“What panel? How can I push a command button if I don’t even know what panel?” Still, Threepio hurried over to the computer panel, looking for the small button that Artoo had described.
Artoo shrilled his response as Threepio found the button. Artoo would send the deactivation code, but Threepio had to press the emergency frequency. It would, they hoped, intercept any other message. It would prevent explosions from happening.
Artoo’s jack stopped rotating. As he pulled the jack from the socket, he bleeped.
Now.
Threepio jammed his golden finger on the button once, twice, three times.
Nothing happened.
Artoo was staring at a display screen.
Threepio looked up.
Artoo started rocking back and forth. Then he shrilled a victory cry.
“We did it?” Threepio said.
Artoo bleeped happily.
“We really did it!” Threepio put his arm around his small friend. “We’re saved! Oh, Artoo, you’re a genius!”
Artoo burbled modestly.
“Well, I’m a genius too. After all, I did help you. I did listen to you, and you couldn’t have done it alone. Why, if Master Cole and I hadn’t come here—” Threepio interrupted himself. “Oh, dear. Master Cole! He’s missing! We have to find him, Artoo, before something dreadful happens to him.”
Artoo moaned softly.
“Oh, dear,” Threepio said. “I suppose that means it already has.”
Leia couldn’t feel Luke anymore. It was as if his personality completely disappeared, even though she could still see him, outlined against the tower in the growing twilight. Behind him, the Thernbee appeared, its huge face turning quizzically toward Kueller. His presence was gone too.
But she sensed someone else close, someone precious. She turned. Han was at the mouth of the alley, his blaster out, his face hidden in shadow. Chewbacca was behind him. She wanted to run to Han, but she couldn’t. Not yet.
Something was happening to Luke.
At first she had thought he was going to die, as Obi-Wan did, but he didn’t. Kueller didn’t hit him. Instead, Kueller backed away and pulled out a small device. It was scanning his face.
She had a bad feeling about this.
“Luke!” she shouted, but Luke seemed to be ignoring her. He was trying to hold his lightsaber.
He was missing his chance. Kueller was going to do something awful and then get away.
The light stopped scanning Kueller’s face.
Leia raised her hand, and called Han’s blaster to her. It left his hands and zoomed toward her.
The Thernbee saw her, and its tail started to wag. It changed direction and came toward her.
The blaster clipped in the air. She was losing her mental grip on it. She pulled it to her faster. It hit her hand as a blanket dropped across her mind. She stumbled backward, then pulled the blaster aloft.
Kueller was still holding the device up. She saw his fingers move against the light the device gave off.
Even without feeling him through the Force, she knew what he was going to do. He had told her when he arrived. It didn’t matter that some of the droids had been turned off.
So many hadn’t.
Those waves of cold …
The concussion of the instant bomb …
The laughter of her children …
Leia raised the blaster, closed one eye, and lined the weapon up with Kueller. He didn’t see her. He couldn’t even feel her.
But Luke could.
“Leia!” he shouted.
Kueller turned, and Leia didn’t hesitate. The shot went directly for his head.
He raised a hand to ward it off, but the hand did no good. The blaster shot knocked him backward.
“Leia!” Luke shouted again.
The Thernbee was coming toward her, a giant furry ghost in the darkness.
Kueller sat up, and Leia shot him one more time. He fell back, the device falling out of his hand. She crossed the tile, the heavy feeling growing stronger with each movement.
“Leia!” Luke was beside her now. He took the blaster from her. She could feel his concern. Had she shot Kueller out of hatred and anger? Probably. Would she be going to the dark side now?
She didn’t know.
She couldn’t feel the Force at all anymore.
Maybe it didn’t count if she couldn’t feel the Force.
She stopped over Kueller’s body. He looked smaller now, his arms raised above his head. Luke reached for her, but she moved out of his way, and bent over Kueller. She slipped her fingers under his mask and ripped it away.
He was a boy, his features only beginning to show the signs of wear that Palpatine’s had at the end. His dark eyes were open and lifeless, his mouth slack, but his features still had the roundness of youth, a sort of chubby charm that should have radiated joy instead of hatred.
No wonder he had used the mask. A face like that would have terrified no one.
“He was just a child,” she whispered.
Luke crouched beside her. He took the mask from her hand. “No, Leia. He lost his childhood before he came to Yavin 4. He knew what he was doing, what he had become.”
He set the mask on Kueller’s destroyed chest, stood, and helped Leia up. The Thernbee was right beside them, its tongue out.
“There’s that blasted thing!” Han said from behind them. “I’d have been able to help if it hadn’t eaten my ysalamiri.”
“So that’s what that feeling is.” Luke brought a hand to his face and laughed shakily. “You helped, Han, old buddy. Let’s just hope the Thernbee here starts to digest the ysalamiri quickly.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Han said. “It swallowed the cages too.”
“The Thernbee has eaten stranger things in the recent past,” Luke said.
; Leia didn’t care about the Thernbee. She took one last look at the man who had threatened her entire family.
Then she turned around. Han was behind her, watching her.
“I love you, Princess,” he said softly.
She launched herself into his arms, and pulled him close. “I know,” she whispered. “I know.”
Fifty-five
Artoo’s handiwork had shut off all the droids in the facility, except for those without the detonator chip. Only the astromech units and Threepio apparently were without. The astromech units chased Brakiss to his ship, and watched as he took off to parts unknown.
The computer held no clues as to Master Cole’s whereabouts, so Threepio and Artoo had to search the nearby compounds. They found him in a droid torture chamber that made the one in Jabba’s palace look like a luxurious oil-massage parlor. Master Cole was strapped to a bench, and was partially unconscious.
Artoo determined that Master Cole was in no condition to fly the freighter. So Threepio sent messages to everyone he could think of, requesting a transport.
He managed to raise Lando Calrissian, who chuckled and said that the Lady Luck was turning into a passenger liner. He promised to arrive shortly and pick them up.
Threepio waited beside Master Cole. Artoo had insisted on freeing the tortured droids, and he sent them to a repair area, hoping that they could help each other. Artoo was puttering around the room, deactivating all its horrible equipment. He had already removed the torture devices on the Eve-Ninedeninetwo.
Then Master Cole’s hand moved. Threepio leaned over him, and was rewarded when Master Cole’s eyelids fluttered. His eyes opened, he saw Threepio, and—he screamed.
Artoo beeped in response, hurrying toward Threepio’s side.
Threepio backed away from Master Cole. “I’m so sorry, sir. It’s just me. See-Threepio, at your service.”
Master Cole’s scream died, and he brought a hand to his face. Artoo beeped at him sympathetically.
“We’re still in this place.”
“Only for a moment, sir,” Threepio said. “Artoo has gotten us transport.”
“Brakiss?” Master Cole said.
“He left, sir. The astromech droids attacked him, and he ran away. After I—”
Artoo bleebled.
“—Ah, after we defeated the Red Terror.”
“The Red—?”
“Oh, it’s a long story, sir, but quite intriguing. You see, after I left you—”
“Later, Threepio.” Master Cole pulled himself up on his elbows, and peered at Artoo. “Did you solve what you needed to?”
Artoo whistled his affirmative.
“Oh, more than solved it, sir. He deactivated all the detonators. It seems that Brakiss designed them all to be handled from one remote, although why he would do that seems quite unusual to me. Artoo assures me that it is custom among droid manufacturers. It allows for defective models to be deactivated, even in difficult-to-reach areas where—”
“Can no one shut him up?” Master Cole said as he rolled off the table. He moaned slightly.
“I don’t think you should be getting up, sir.”
“I don’t think I want to stay here any longer. Where is the freighter?”
“Where we left it, sir. But you are in no condition to fly it. Master Calrissian shall be here shortly. He’ll take us back to Coruscant.”
Threepio moved to help Master Cole stand, but Master Cole flinched.
“Did they hurt you badly, sir?”
Master Cole gave him a withering glance. “It didn’t exactly tickle.”
Threepio nodded. “Well, sir, it might do you good to remember two things: Artoo and I did rescue you, and if you’ll forgive my impertinence, sir, no two droids are alike. I know many sentients forget that, but we are individuals and can remain so without a memory wipe.”
Master Cole smiled. “I know that, Threepio. You startled me when I came to. And as for the rest, well, it hurts to be touched at the moment. I’m sure that will fade.” He gazed down at Artoo, who hovered near him. “I’ve learned from both of you never to underestimate a droid. I’ve been as bad as the rest of the galaxy in taking you all for granted. I’ll never do that again.”
Artoo beeped happily.
“What did he say?” Master Cole asked.
“That it sounds as if you’ll be all right now.” Threepio’s hand clanged as it rested on Artoo’s head. “It seems, thanks to Artoo’s quick thinking and my negotiation skills, that we’ll all be fine now.”
Master Cole grinned. “I think you’re right, Threepio. I think you’re right.”
Mon Mothma walked Leia to the redesigned Imperial ballroom. Leia was wearing a copy of her white dress, but she had forgone the braids wrapped around her ears. Instead, she wore her hair down. Han had smiled at her before she left the suite, and had made her promise to return from the Senate early. The children were due back the following day. He wanted to make the most of his time alone with her.
So did she.
“I still don’t understand how you got them to call off the recall election,” Leia said.
Mon Mothma smiled. “I didn’t, Leia. You did. You and Wedge and Han and Luke. If you hadn’t successfully defeated Kueller, you would have come back here to a political storm unlike any you’ve ever seen. But when it became clear that Han wasn’t involved in the bombing, and instead you all had been the ones who caught the culprit, Meido and his followers could do nothing else but support you.”
Leia clasped her hands behind her back. “But you had to have done something. You already had Meido off the Inner Council by the time I came back.”
Mon Mothma shrugged. “I’ve had more years of experience dealing with divergent voices than you have, Leia. You’ll need to learn how to work with a group that is no longer homogeneous. The Senate won’t always agree on policy anymore. You’ll have to build coalitions.”
“With Imperials?” Leia asked, shuddering.
“Former Imperials who really had nothing to do with the Empire. You can’t always blame people for their pasts. You should know that better than anyone, President Organa Solo.”
Mon Mothma had a point. Han’s past was shady at best, and yet he was getting a hero’s commendation for his work with the wounded on Smuggler’s Run. So was Lando. Lando had already asked Leia how much financial compensation went along with the commendation, and had frowned when she said that gratitude came without monetary reward.
And then she had promised to pay, out of her own pocket if she had to, for the refurbishing of the Lady Luck. It was the least she could do. Lando had saved hundreds of lives.
“Any word from Chewbacca?” Mon Mothma asked.
Leia nodded. “He and the Alderaan are due at any point. It took him a while to find the wild pride of Thernbees. Apparently, when their number had been so badly hunted by the Je’har, they had moved away from their normal stomping grounds. But Chewie was able to deliver our Thernbee back to them.”
“He sounds like a delightful creature.”
“He was too big and pesky to be delightful,” Leia said. “And it took him two days to digest the ysalamiri. Mara, Luke, and I were stuck in the Falcon, playing holographic games while Han and Chewie argued about who would repair the damage.”
“They must have fixed it.”
Leia grinned. “They did. After Mara threatened to shoot them both.”
Mon Mothma laughed. They stopped in front of the ballroom door. Mon Mothma put her hand on Leia’s arm. “You realize that some of the senators are saying Threepio and Artoo should be deactivated for taking such initiative. They also want action taken against Cole Fardreamer. The theft of the freighter has them all disturbed. They’ll try to make that the first order of business.”
Leia glanced at the closed doors. The last time she had gone into a Senate Chamber dressed like this, she had been worried about the petty backbiting of the senators. The explosion had come out of the blue, had ruined so many lives, and had made those w
orries seem trivial.
Kueller. His youthful face would haunt her longer than his death mask would.
His actions would haunt her longer still.
He had taken so many lives without a single thought. And it had taken so much to defeat him. She would do everything she could in her position as Chief of State to see that no other monsters like him were created under her watch.
And the first order of business would be to make sure no truth got distorted by opportunistic politicians.
“They won’t succeed in deactivating the droids,” she said. “Artoo and Threepio are heroes. I have some ideas about changing the laws regarding droids. And they won’t touch Cole Fardreamer. He discovered the flaws in the new X-wings. It’s on his suggestion that we’re returning to the older models. I’ll take care of all of this. I also have some bridge building to do.”
“Sounds like a busy day,” Mon Mothma said.
“It can’t be too busy,” Leia said. “Luke is having his last bacta treatment this afternoon, and I plan to be there when he wakes up. Then I am going home. Han promised dinner for me.”
“And no children until tomorrow,” Mon Mothma said.
Leia smiled. “A person always has to make the best of every situation,” she said.
“Oh, you do, Leia,” Mon Mothma said.
The moment had suddenly gotten too serious for Leia. She put her arm around Mon Mothma’s waist. “A whole new chapter in here,” Leia said.
“Yes,” Mon Mothma said. “And the first order of business is for me to step down and you to regain your post.”
“Think they’ll ratify my return?” Leia asked.
“Without dissent,” Mon Mothma said.
Then they opened the door to the temporary Senate Hall. Leia was already planning her speech. It would be different from the one she had planned so long ago. This one would be about unity and respect.
She would set the tone for the new Senate term.
And this time, she would do it right.
About the Author
KRISTINE KATHRYN RUSCH is an award-winning mystery, romance, science fiction, and fantasy writer. She has written many novels under various names, including Kristine Grayson for romance, and Kris Nelscott for mystery. Her novels have made the bestseller lists, and have been published in fourteen countries and thirteen different languages. Her awards range from the Ellery Queen Readers Choice Award to the John W. Campbell Award. She is the only person in the history of the science fiction field to have won a Hugo award for editing and a Hugo award for fiction. Her short work has been reprinted in sixteen Year’s Best collections. She is the former editor of the prestigious The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. Before that, she and Dean Wesley Smith, started and ran Pulphouse Publishing, a science fiction and mystery press in Eugene. She lives and works on the Oregon Coast.
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