Catalyst

by James Luceno

  “I have some thoughts about that,” Krennic said.

  “I’m certain you do.”

  Krennic waited a beat, then said: “I think it would help if you promoted me.”

  Amedda glared at him. “Is there no limit to your insolence? On what grounds?”

  “A promotion would send a clear signal to the scientists and everyone else involved in the project that I’m making headway, and that they need to jump at my command. Rear admiral will suffice.”

  Amedda forced a fatigued exhale. “Full commander, perhaps. And only on the Emperor’s approval.”

  Krennic inclined his head in a bow.

  Clearly the time had come to play his royal card.

  RYLOTH, OFFICIALLY A PROTECTORATE OF the Empire, was celebrating the anniversary of a major battle against the Separatists during the Clone Wars, but it was as grim a parade as Has had ever attended. No balloons or banners or flag-waving from the viewing stands. Just a couple of thousand native Twi’leks of several colors and head-tail lengths massed behind electrocordons and looking as if they’d been dragged from their residences to bear witness to formations of stormtroopers marching through the streets of Lessu toward something called the Plasma Bridge. The BlasTech-carrying effectives were preceded by a twenty-strong group of indigenes and trailed by Imperial walkers and tanks to the accompaniment of martial music and deafening overflights by squadrons of freshly minted TIE fighters. Anyone would think that the Empire had been responsible for liberating the planet, when in fact it was a homegrown revolutionary named Cham Syndulla, aided and abetted by a couple of Jedi and clone troopers, who had defeated Skakoan Techno Union foreman Wat Tambor and his legions of battle droids.

  Has had arrived just as the festivities were getting started, and was still puzzled as to why Matese had called him halfway across the galaxy instead of meeting at their usual table in the Wanton Wellspring.

  More than a month had passed since the delivery to Wadi Raffa. Normally Has was not a follower of the news, but after what had happened at Samovar he had made it a point to learn whether Wadi had suffered a similar fate. Sure enough, a HoloNet service he subscribed to had sent him an article buried among more noteworthy stories reporting that Turlin/Benthic Extraction had been accused of procuring arms. The Legacy world’s deep-sea mining operations had been seized by the Empire and the world declared off limits.

  Has’s freighter was parked at the orbital cordon. Given the TIE fighter aerial display, all downside-bound traffic was on hold. Regardless, the troopers who boarded his ship had been ordered to shuttle him to the surface and deposit him at the local Imperial garrison HQ, in an office that happened to overlook the parade route.

  He was standing at the window watching one of the four-legged Imperial walkers clomp by when the office door opened and a nondescript major entered the room, carrying a dossier under his arm. The way the officer sized him up made him think of his first meeting with Orson Krennic, all those years ago.

  “Take a seat, Captain,” the human said.

  Has did, while trying to read the writing on the dossier. “Is Matese going to be joining us?”

  The officer looked at him. “It is my sad duty to inform you that Matese is no longer with us.”

  “No longer with—”

  “Dead, I’m afraid.”

  The news hit Has like a kiloton of concrete. “When? How? I heard from him a standard week ago.”

  “An industrial accident apparently.”

  It sounded like code for something untoward, but Has pursued it anyway. “At the depot?”

  “I believe so, yes.”

  Has loosed a sad and suddenly weary exhalation. “Just when he got that ocular implant.”

  “Pity,” the officer said without conviction. “It is also my duty to inform you that all operations are being suspended.”

  A second kiloton of surprise hit him. “Until when?”

  “Indefinitely.”

  “I just put a hefty down payment on a new freighter,” Has said, despite the futility of it. “I’ve been spreading credits around to help my friends—”

  “Regrettable,” the officer interrupted. “But these things happen. Here one day, gone the next.”

  “Like Matese.”

  “Unfortunately yes.”

  Has wilted in his chair. “So where does that leave me? And why’d you have me come all this way for a death announcement? You could have commed and at least saved me the fuel.”

  The human’s upper lip curled in distaste; a touch of the new officiousness.

  “You are here because I received orders to relay a personal message that cannot be trusted to comlink, for whatever reasons.”

  Has raised his eyes. “A message from who?”

  “Lieutenant Commander Krennic, of the Corps of Engineers.”

  Has opened his mouth but no words emerged. He gulped and tried again without result.

  “I’m told that you two are acquainted.”

  “From years ago,” Has managed. “But—”

  “I can’t imagine how or why, but that’s not my concern. The commander asks that you report to him on Coruscant soonest.” He extracted a military-grade comlink from the dossier envelope and set it on the desk. “You’re to use this when you arrive.”

  Has didn’t want to reach for it, but he did, turning it over in his trembling hands. “Coded?”

  The officer shrugged. “Also none of my concern.”

  “Why Coruscant?”

  The human took a deep breath, clearly annoyed. “That’s for you to know, and for me to remain ignorant about. In this instance, I am merely the messenger.”

  Sudden commotion outside the window brought both of them out of their chairs. Below a group of chanting Twi’leks carrying placards that read FREE RYLOTH MOVEMENT and THE HAMMER OF RYLOTH had dodged the cordon and were dispersing onto the wide boulevard. Brought to a sudden halt, the nearest company of stormtroopers had regrouped in close-order formation. Still the head-tailed humanoids kept coming. A shouted order from an officer, and the troopers raised their weapons. A follow-up command sent pulses of energy surging over the heads of the protestors, but failed to slow the crowd.

  Something told Has that the Empire was about to claim another world.

  —

  Krennic had been an infrequent visitor to the facility, so when he told Galen he would be dropping by, Galen was thrilled and demanded that he stay for dinner. Krennic arrived without stormtroopers but in full-dress uniform and with wines for the occasion—both dinner and dessert vintages. Galen was waiting when he set his airspeeder down on the landing zone, and they greeted each other warmly. Lyra and the child joined them in the lobby and the four of them spent more than an hour touring the complex, Galen speaking animatedly about the energy research—as if soliciting Krennic’s approval; Lyra, quiet and lagging behind; and the child hurrying ahead of everyone, wearing a toy sword in a scabbard and holding two stuffed animals in her arms.

  Night was falling by the time the quartet made their way to the Ersos’ comfortable residence, where Krennic opened one of the bottles of wine and Lyra planted her daughter in front of a viewer to watch The Octave Stairway, apparently the child’s current favorite bedtime story. The view from the living room window was sublime, encompassing a copse of gargantuan trees the B’ankora had planted centuries earlier and, rising beyond those, some of the city-world’s newest and most daring skyscrapers.

  Krennic could almost forget that they were on Coruscant.

  He had hoped Lyra would have come to feel that way, but judging by the surveillance recordings of her conversations with family and friends she was bored and unhappy.

  Weeks earlier Krennic had learned that Reeva Demesne had tried to contact Galen, ostensibly to say hello, but in fact to snoop about. Demesne knew nothing of the battle station, but the shield generator program she headed had been folded into the Special Weapons Group, and some of the scattered researchers had begun to compare notes. Fortunately, it was
Lyra who had spoken with Demesne, and Krennic had made a thorough study of their conversation. If Lyra had concerns about Galen’s research to begin with, then the Mirialan scientist’s veiled inquiries had probably doubled them, and before too long Lyra’s objections to the program were going to become problematic. Krennic had seen the day coming as far back as the discussion they’d had shortly after the war ended, and recordings of conversations between Galen and Lyra had confirmed that her misgivings had only increased. Demesne had stopped short of alluding to rumors of the weaponizing of Galen’s research, but she had made her own concerns about the project almost palpable, and Krennic couldn’t allow Lyra’s apprehensions to go unchecked. As for Galen, he was so far too seduced by the facility and all it offered to think much beyond the crystals.

  Krennic waited until dessert was being served to steer the conversation where it needed to go.

  “Are you two happy here?” he asked after they had lifted their glasses in a toast to lasting peace.

  The abruptness of his question seemed to catch Lyra by surprise, but Galen was quick to respond.

  “It’s close to having a dream come true.”

  He covered Lyra’s hand with his own, as if to suggest that she was with him—or was it a subtle signal to her that she exercise caution?

  Krennic looked at Galen. “You’re receiving all that you need?”

  “Supplies arrive daily. I couldn’t ask for more.”

  Krennic smiled and let the silence linger. “I know about the requisitions and supplies, but I’m asking about your personal needs.” He gestured broadly. “As nice as this place is, it could strike some as a rather lonely outpost.”

  Lyra bit back something she was about to say, but Galen was intent on reassuring him.

  “We’re only hours from anything we lack here. We kept the apartment. Jyn plays with the children of other scientists. Lyra will be homeschooling her.”

  Krennic addressed Lyra directly, keeping his tone sociable. “I guess we’ve established that Galen is happy, and it sounds as though the child’s needs are being met, but I’m mostly concerned about you.”

  She flushed. “Me?”

  She might as well have said Since when?, but Krennic stuck to his script.

  “I mean, between motherhood and what you do for Galen, you don’t have a lot of time for yourself. I’m simply curious if you’re fine with having put your life on hold—temporarily, in any case.”

  She regarded him frankly. “I haven’t put my life on hold, Orson. My career, maybe, but certainly not my life.”

  He showed the palms of his hands. “Maybe I didn’t put that right.”

  “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. What exactly are you trying to get at?”

  Galen was glancing back and forth between the two of them.

  “Just this: We have data on what purports to be an extensive vein of kyber crystals on an Outer Rim world. Because of matters we can discuss later, I can’t trust just anyone with assaying the extent of the find.”

  “Do you need a recommendation?” Lyra asked.

  “No, I want you to consider undertaking the survey.” He gave it time to settle in. “It’s not a dangerous assignment. A group of archaeologists already have a small but comfortable research camp set up. You could include one or more of your former teammates if you wish. In fact, it’s safe enough for you to take the child along as well.”

  Galen and Lyra were exchanging shocked looks.

  “You should do it,” Galen said without question.

  Lyra shook her head. “Galen, we need to talk about this—”

  “And we will. But I think this would be something wonderful for you. You know I’ve been concerned about your sacrificing your interests for mine.”

  “I’m hardly sacrificing myself, Galen. Being here was as much my choice as yours.” She looked from Galen to Krennic and back again. “Anything else either of you want to say about my life?”

  “You don’t need to give me a decision right now,” Krennic assured her. “I just want you to consider it.”

  “I’m serious,” Galen told Lyra. “You can’t pass this up. Think what an experience like this would mean for Jyn.”

  Krennic watched her. Will she ask if he’s trying to get rid of her?

  She didn’t. Instead she said:

  “Orson, do have any idea how long the survey will take?”

  Krennic rocked his head from side to side. “You’ll know better than I once I provide you with the data. But I suspect not more than a couple of standard months.” He looked at Galen. “Can you spare her and your daughter for that long?”

  Galen put his lips together and nodded. “We’ve been separated for longer periods.” He didn’t mention Vallt, but the implication was clear.

  “But your notes,” Lyra said.

  He touched her hand again. “We’ll hold off transcribing them until you return.”

  Lyra inhaled and blew out her breath, then pushed her auburn hair back from her forehead. “First the facility, now this.” She turned to Krennic. “What else do you have up your sleeve?”

  —

  New Imperial regulations regarding travel had required Lyra and Jyn to be scanned, interviewed, and subjected to multiple identity checks before being allowed access to the minor landing zone that served the research facility, situated in the heart of the arcologies that walled it to the west.

  But the trip didn’t seem entirely real until scanners at the sprawling Central District spaceport had cleared them to board the mag-lev that served a portion of the spaceport reserved for the arrivals and departures of private ships. Now here they were threading their way between enormous starships en route to the hangar at which she was to rendezvous with Nari Sable, whom she hadn’t seen in person in close to four years.

  She had wrestled with accepting Orson’s assignment for more than three standard weeks, vacillating between excitement and a sense of vague unease about leaving Galen to his own devices. They had discussed it endlessly, and while he had never been less than encouraging and enthusiastic, she had begun to wonder whether he wanted her gone. And maybe that was actually the case; that at this stage of the research he felt that he needed to devote himself fully to it without having to concern himself with her contentment or Jyn’s development—precisely the way she often felt at social occasions, worrying about whether he was having a good time. Now, though, all the weeks of uneasiness and indecision were behind her, and she was exhilarated about embarking on an adventure. As the mag-lev came to a stop near the designated hangar, she gave Jyn’s hand an affectionate squeeze.

  “This is going to be so much fun.”

  Jyn nodded. “Is Papa going to miss us?”

  “He sure is. Do you think he’ll remember to eat?”

  “Mac-Vee will make him eat.”

  Their nanny and housekeeping droid.

  “You’re right, Mac-Vee won’t let him miss a single meal.”

  They were wearing backpacks and dressed in serviceable outfits, though Jyn had insisted at the last minute on wearing a helmet that made her look like a starfighter pilot. Their luggage had been delivered ahead of time and was now at the mercy of droids responsible for moving everything from the terminal to the private hangar.

  As they hastened across the concrete apron toward the hemispherical building, Nari Sable emerged, dressed in a sleeveless belted tunic and lace-up boots, looking as if she had just arrived from the Outer Rim. Seeing Lyra, she quickened her pace, smiling broadly; as soon as she reached them, she pulled Lyra into a tight hug and kissed her on both cheeks.

  “It’s been way too long,” she said into Lyra’s ear.

  “I know. Let’s promise not to let that happen again.”

  Still smiling, Nari backed out of the embrace to appraise Lyra, running her fingertips over her old friend’s face. Lyra took note of the faint lines around Nari’s eyes, the result of having spent too much time in harsh starlight, touches of premature gray in her hair, creases form
ing at the corners of her mouth. She was thin but still muscular, and her green eyes shone with the vitality of someone half her age. Then Nari’s gaze fell on Jyn and she withdrew another step, her hand in front of her mouth in surprise.

  “She’s your twin! Except for the helmet.”

  “Do you want to see what’s in my backpack?” Jyn asked, already shrugging out of it.

  Nari went down on one knee in front of her. “I sure do. But let’s wait until we board our ship, okay?”

  “I brought macrobinoculars, too.”

  “You did? That’s great, sweetie, because we’re going to need them. As soon as we’re inside, I want to see everything.”

  “Okay,” Jyn chirped.

  Nari stood up and gestured toward the hangar. “Come and see our ride.” She put her arm around Lyra’s shoulders as they walked.

  The two had been fast friends since childhood, though Nari was twice the athlete Lyra was—a runner, gymnast, old-school adventurer. Like Lyra, she had a history of serial relationships, but unlike Lyra, she had stuck to decisions made as a teenager to neither marry nor have children. Lyra thought of her as the woman she might have been had she taken that other fork in the road. Their different paths aside, they had shared many adventures, exploring, surveying, and mapping. Nari had been her maid of honor at the simple wedding that included Reeva Demesne as a guest. She had made Alderaan her home during the war, but—with exploration back to full tilt—had worked steadily since, and even had access to a survey company starship. Lyra had been lucky to catch her between jobs, and on Coruscant, no less.

  The interior of the hangar was lit brightly enough for Lyra to get a good look at the ship. A compact freighter, it was lozenge-shaped with a wide fantail and a dorsally mounted cockpit. It needed paint and body work, but appeared serviceable.

  “All of our equipment is already onboard,” Nari was saying. “They even provided us with a recording droid.”

  Lyra nodded noncommittally. “Rough around the edges, but we’ve been in far worse.”