by James Luceno
Galen nodded with reluctance and turned to the droid. “Assis, you’re coming with us.”
“I expected no less, Dr. Erso,” the droid replied.
Nurboo stepped forward to urge the three of them toward the control room’s tunnel access ramp. “Hurry! Trust that we’ll do our best to delay the soldiers.”
Lyra smirked good-naturedly. “With what, your data styluses? That’s almost worth waiting around to see.”
Nurboo’s blue face fell. “We’re as able-bodied as the soldiers, Lyra.”
Galen grew serious. “Don’t give them any reason to mistreat you. Remember, it’s me they want, not you.”
“The troop carrier has cleared the gate,” Easel said from the comm suite.
Lyra began to hurry though the control room, hugging everyone goodbye. “Not that I’m going to miss the smell of fried circuitry and stale food,” she said when she got to Nurboo.
“Promise you’ll comm us,” he said. “We expect to see many, many holoimages.”
“We’ll get this sorted out,” Galen said, trying to sound optimistic. “You’re not through with us yet.”
“Yes, yes,” Nurboo said, all but pushing him through the door. “But let’s save this discussion for when you’re safely on the far side of Vallt’s pathetic excuse for a moon.”
—
A compact speeder bobbed at the base of the ramp. The air was much colder, and the din of the underground machinery echoed from the stone walls. The principal tunnel ran from the facility all the way to the starship hangar, with dozens of branches leading to remote outbuildings and subsidiary power stations.
Assis’s legs telescoped and it stepped adroitly into the speeder’s forward socket. When Galen and Lyra had clambered into the rear bench seat, the droid contracted and wedded itself to the controls.
“All speed, Assis,” Galen said, “we’ve a ship to catch.”
Assis’s head rotated toward him. “Then hang on, Doctor.”
The skimmer shot forward, pinning Galen and Lyra against the cushioned seatback, semicircular illumination arrays lighting portions of the tunnel as the speeder advanced. But they hadn’t reached the first fork when the droid brought the vehicle to an abrupt stop.
“What is it, Assis?” Lyra asked.
The droid’s head rotated. “There is movement ahead, in both the main tunnel and the power station fork. More than twenty Valltii. All of them on foot.”
Galen wasn’t surprised. “They’re onto us,” he said quietly. He glanced around him, focusing on a hatchway in the tunnel wall. “Assis, where are we exactly?”
The droid responded immediately. “Beneath the south station equipment room.”
Galen turned to Lyra, holding her gaze. “We need to go the rest of the way on the surface.”
Lyra’s brows went up. “You’re kidding, right? We won’t make half a kilometer in that snow.”
Galen clamped his hand on the TDK droid’s sloping shoulder. “Assis is going to take us.”
Assis actually stirred. “I fear that I’ll only slow you down, Dr. Erso.”
Lyra nodded in sudden understanding. “The twin-tread module.”
Galen gave her hand an affectionate squeeze. “Let’s hope that everything’s where we left it.”
Abandoning the speeder, the three of them raced for the hatchway.
The hatch opened on a short flight of metal stairs that ended in the south station equipment room. Lyra knew precisely where to find the coats, gloves, boots with toe bindings, and long wooden skis. While she tossed clothing to Galen, versatile Assis contracted its limbs and lowered itself atop a pair of continuous tracks adapted for snow travel. Buttoned into a long coat with a fur-lined hood, Galen affixed ropes to projections on the droid’s now boxy body.
Lyra raised the door, and the cold walloped them into a brief silence. A blast of wind-driven flurries cycloned around the three of them.
“We’ll take it slowly,” Galen said while he clipped his boots to the skis.
Lyra shot him a look. “Not you, too. Who tore whose knee on that Chandrila downhill?”
He looked momentarily chastised. “Excuse me for showing concern.”
She gave a final tug to one of her gloves and clomped over to him. Linking her arms around his neck, she pulled him close and kissed him firmly on the lips. “You can show as much concern as you want.” She eased back, then added, “Just another adventure, right?”
“More of an experiment.”
She kissed him again. “I love you.”
Lyra pulled the hat down onto her head and cinched the collar of the jacket. Assis moved out into the fresh snow on its treads, the ropes grew taut, and all at once the trio was tearing across the rolling treeless terrain toward the docking bay four kilometers away. Despite the late hour Vallt’s primary was a mournful blur moored low on the horizon, its customary location at that time of year in the northern latitudes. The surface snow had melted slightly, and they skied just outside the deep double-track left by Assis’s module. The lights of the facility had just disappeared behind them when the first projectile rounds sizzled past. Galen glanced over his shoulder in time to see two groups of Valltii riders converging behind them in close pursuit. A slight shift in the breeze carried the sound of the taqwas’ hoofed feet thundering through the snow.
“Assis, we have to beat them to the hangar!” Galen shouted.
“Easy for you to say, Doctor, when it’s me they’re shooting at!”
Galen grimaced. It was true: With his big brain suddenly up for grabs, Galen Erso was too valuable to harm.
The droid accelerated, Galen and Lyra bent low on their skis behind, the pace and the cold air sending tears streaming down their cheeks. The Valltii riders continued to fire their antique rifles even as they began to fall farther and farther behind. By the time the docking bay came into view Galen, Lyra, and Assis were out of range, but their pursuers were whipping their snow-striders with abandon in an effort to catch up.
Encouraged, Assis called all it could from the tread module, and in moments the hangar dome was looming before them, Zerpen’s sinuous logo emblazoned on the curved side.
In the wan light, Galen scanned the final stretch of snow. “No sign of prints or tracks,” he said. “We’re going to make it.”
Short of the dome, Lyra let go of the rope and hurtled for the main hatch, bringing herself to an expert stop at the exterior control panel. By the time Galen slid to a less elegant standstill, the hatch was up and the interior of the hangar was illuminating. Their small, sleek spacecraft sat silently under spotlights. Unclipping from the skis, they plodded through a thigh-high drift that had formed in front of the hatch.
“Prep the ship,” Galen told Lyra in a rush. “I’ll get the dome opened.”
“Watch out for falling snow.”
“And me, Dr. Erso?” Assis asked, the tug ropes still dangling from its torso. “What would you have me do?”
Galen glanced briefly at the approaching riders. “Remain here and secure the entry behind us.” He crouched somewhat to address the droid directly. “You have your instructions if this doesn’t work.”
“I will execute your orders, Dr. Erso.”
Galen and Lyra hurried inside—he for the dome controls, she for the ship. Hitting the switch that opened the roof, Galen raced to join Lyra, but neither of them had advanced more than a few meters when a rope net as heavy as a trio of taqwas and just as coarse dropped from somewhere overhead, propelling them into each other and trapping them underneath.
“I’m guessing you didn’t figure this into your calculations,” Lyra said, struggling to rise to her knees.
Galen tried to extricate his right arm from the leaden mesh, escape and safety just out of reach. Anger raged in him. The Valltii had engineered the net to fall as soon as the roof retracted. How could he have failed to foresee such a crude trap? Or had he deliberately led them into it? “Looks like we made a bad call.”
“Back on Coruscant, you
mean.”
Assis was reconfiguring itself to lend a literal hand when the sound of galloping animals and guttural voices infiltrated the dome. In short order, eight shaggy big-footed taqwas exhaling breath clouds paraded through the hatch and began to pick their way carefully around the deployed net. Bearing the brand of Marshal Phara on their rumps, they had long necks, sharp teeth, and doleful eyes. The riders were thickset males dressed in boiled-leather long coats and hide boots, the cheeks above their thick beards polished by Vallt’s blizzards to a cerulean sheen. One of them dismounted from a wooden saddle and doffed a wool cap as he approached Galen.
“Thank you for not disappointing us, Dr. Erso,” he said in the indigenous tongue.
Galen gave up on freeing his arm and allowed himself to sag to the hangar’s cold hard floor. “Good job covering your tracks.”
The black-eyed rider went down on one knee in front of him. Small blood-red beads were braided into his iced whiskers, and he smelled of smoke and rancid butter tea. “We strung the net two days ago. Last night’s snowfall favored our plans. But don’t feel too bad, you would never have reached here by way of the tunnels, either.”
“So we learned.”
“I am an innocent party to all this!” Assis said from just inside the hatch, back to bipedal mode and displaying two short arms. “I was pressed into service and had no choice but to follow orders!”
Without standing, the rider turned to his cohorts. “Muzzle that droid.”
Two riders dismounted to carry out the command.
Galen heard the sound of a restraining bolt being hammered into the droid’s torso. “Lyra’s the innocent party,” he snapped. “Get her out from beneath this thing.”
The same riders who had silenced Assis lifted a corner of the weighty mesh and helped Lyra to her feet, but made no move to free Galen.
“You are under arrest by order of Marshal Phara,” the lead rider told him.
“On what charge, exactly?”
“Espionage. Among others.”
Galen looked him in the eye. “Two weeks ago you and I sipped tea together, and now you’re arresting me.”
“Things change, Dr. Erso. My orders were to capture you. Marshal Phara will decide your guilt or innocence.” He stood and faced one of the mounted soldiers. “Ride to the facility and send the troop carrier to deliver Dr. Erso to Tambolor prison.”
TWO GUARDS IN BRISTLY JACKETS and bulky fur caps led Galen from the stone-walled cell into a room with plaster walls and a high arched ceiling. Sapwood crackled in the mouth of a large fireplace, and oily smoke from torches set in wall sconces lazed in the air. Behind a large scarred desk sat a sturdy woman wearing a belted brown uniform. Her hair was parted in the middle, slicked down with what might have been lard, and fell in two precise braids linked and entwined with colored yarn. Argent rings adorned her fat blue fingers, and her nose was pierced by a small blood-red stud. Her eyes were a shiny black, enlivened by the wad of stimulant berries she had packed in one glossy cheek. She motioned him to the rickety chair that faced the desk.
Galen extended his free hands to her. “Are you certain you don’t want to shackle me?”
Her grin revealed large dark-stained teeth. “I don’t think you can do much harm in here, Dr. Erso,” she said in the local tongue. “Unless of course the Republic implanted you with some sort of secret weapon.”
He lowered himself onto the chair. They had kept him on ice for two local weeks, though he had been permitted a brief visit with Nurboo. His friend had promised to try to convey a handwritten message to Lyra, wherever she was being held.
“You have some odd notions regarding the Republic’s capability.”
She spread her hands in a kind of shrug. “The tragedy of living on the Outer Rim, Doctor.” She paused, then said: “I am Chieftain Gruppe. Have you been comfortable? Is there anything you need?”
Galen rubbed the growth that covered his cheeks and chin. “A razor. A hot bath. An extra blanket.”
“I’ll see to it that you receive them.” She turned to one side to spit a stream of black fluid into a pot on the floor.
“I thought Vallt had laws against false arrest, Chieftain.”
“New constitution,” Gruppe said in an offhand way. “Essentially we’re free to do just about anything we wish—anytime, anywhere, and to anyone.”
“I’m certain you’ll be a wealthy landowner before you know it.”
“An ancillary benefit, to be sure.”
Galen gazed up at the leaky ceiling and water-stained walls. “You could patch those leaks with a bit of permacrete.”
She turned slightly in the chair to follow his gaze. “No one informed me that you are a stone setter in addition to being an energy researcher, Doctor.”
Galen gave vent to his anger. “Where is Lyra, Chieftain? What have you done with her?”
She smiled tightly. “In safekeeping. Resting comfortably.”
“When will I be allowed to see her?”
Gruppe leaned back in the chair. “That depends entirely on you.”
His expression hardened. “Perhaps you don’t understand—”
“I understand completely, Doctor. How many of your months remain before the child is due?”
“Approximately two—unless you’ve placed her in danger.”
She waved in dismissal. “The child is yours?”
“Of course the child is mine.”
“I ask only because it is my understanding that the human women of Coruscant no longer carry or deliver their own progeny—that they hire others to do that for them.”
“Not on the Coruscant I know.”
“You’re not one who dwells in the clouds then?”
“Lyra and I have a small apartment on the campus of one of the universities.”
Gruppe considered this. “An individual of your standing?”
“I demand to be with Lyra for the birth, Chieftain,” he said with force.
“And you will be, Doctor. We’re not barbarians, after all.” She gazed at him for a long moment. “We’ve met, you know. Three months back at the ball King Chai threw when he welcomed Zerpen to Vallt.”
“You’ll excuse me if I choose not to remember.”
Her brows knitted. She turned to loose another stream of liquid into the pot and wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her drab uniform. “I’m sure you must feel like one of the rodents you use in your experiments—”
“I don’t use animals in my research.”
“Be that as it may, you’ve no need to remain here. The length of your confinement is completely in your hands. You could walk out of here today and return to the company of your wife.”
Galen smiled without mirth. “And all I need to do is confess to being a spy for the Republic and agree to swear my allegiance to the Separatists.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Chieftain, but I’m merely a researcher in the employ of Zerpen Industries. I don’t work for the Republic, and I’m certainly not about to work for Count Dooku.”
“Science doesn’t take sides, is that it?”
“Well put.”
“With galactic affairs as they are, there’s little profit to being neutral, Doctor.”
Galen tilted his head to regard her frankly. “I can only wonder what Count Dooku offered Vallt’s new leadership. Perhaps he promised to tug this world a bit closer to your star.”
Gruppe’s shoulders heaved. “Trade, respect, fair representation in the Confederacy. All that we weren’t receiving as a member world of the Republic.”
“It’s all bluster, Chieftain. Like the winds here. You’d be better off going about your business without aligning yourselves with either side. Take that to Marshal Phara.”
“To what end, Doctor? To continue lives of leaky roofs, cold beds, and rancid tea? Perhaps you think we don’t yearn for the things readily available to the Core and Mid Rim worlds. Or is it that you prefer to keep Vallt primitive and secluded? A museum exhibit for Coruscant’s elite tourists.”
<
br /> “And if the Separatists lose this war? What happens to Vallt then?”
“For a man who claims not to take sides you seem to have a fixation on winners and losers.”
“I don’t care one way or the other. But you’re mistaken to believe that Vallt will profit when this war has run its course.” He paused, then said: “How do you think Zerpen will respond when they learn that you’ve seized their facility? They’ve invested a lot of time and credits in Vallt.”
“We anticipate that they will be eager to renegotiate the terms of the original contract.”
“And I’m expected to be a bargaining chip in this renegotiation.”
“Something to that effect, yes.” She fell briefly silent, then said: “What can you tell me about the Republic military?”
“Not a blessed thing, thankfully.”
“Where did the clone army originate?”
Galen stared at her and laughed. “Who do you take me for?”
“How long have Chancellor Palpatine and the Jedi Order been planning this war?”
“You’re wasting your time, Chieftain. You’ll have to ask them.”
Gruppe leaned over to spit, then inserted a large purple berry into the cud in her cheek. “By all accounts your research has been very productive.”
“We’re making progress.”
“In energy enrichment.”
“Thanks to Vallt’s abundance of natural resources and what was King Chai’s generosity, yes.”
“I’m told that you are actually growing crystals.”
“Yes,” Galen replied. “It’s a complicated process, but if we can succeed in growing crystals that yield results, we may be able to supply inexpensive power to developing worlds.”
“Like Vallt.”
“Like Vallt.”
“Isn’t it true, though, that energy can be employed in many ways? In the same way it can provide illumination for a city, it can be used to power weapons of mass destruction.”
“If I thought that Zerpen was engaging in weapons research, I wouldn’t be working with them.”
“Truly?” She mulled it over. “You have many friends here who say that we should simply banish you or turn you over to your superiors at Zerpen. But in fact, Doctor, you’re too valuable to be returned; especially now, in light of these accusations of espionage. You might be inclined to rescind your neutrality and lend your notable talents to the Republic. You see the dilemma in which we find ourselves.”