Star Wars, page 24
Anyel took them one more level down, to an underwater viewing platform. Looking up at the swirl of green from the growing tube and the glittering light from the surface of the water made Leia dizzy, but when she looked down, down, down into the depths of the deep dark water, a sense of cold peace settled over her. Everyone was breathless and silent as they watched flashes of bioluminescent creatures glowing in the dark, providing glimmering lines of light that hinted at schools of fish. One of the underwater speeders zipped by, its net fisher waving to them. The speeder swooped down, and a floodlight cast a warm glow through the murky depths. The bioluminescent creatures scattered, disappearing instantly. But far off, shadows of larger creatures were barely visible, gliding through the water.
“Is this where we are going to see the edonts?” a young boy with yellow hair said, his hand stuck up in the air.
Anyel deferred to the prime minister; she was only there to speak to them about today’s tour. Yens smiled at the boy. “No, you’ll all be riding a submersible tomorrow. Edonts live in the coldest waters; they don’t get this close to—” He paused and redirected his thoughts. “You’ll see them tomorrow. And you won’t believe how big they are!”
“It’s amazing how much you can harvest from the sea,” the child’s mother said. “Do the harpooners we saw hunt for edonts?”
“Oh, no.” Anyel laughed, taking over again. “Edonts are not food; in fact, their flesh is poisonous. Unlike krackles, there’s no part of their body that can really be used.”
“They just…are,” Yens said, a soft smile on his face. “Their only purpose is to exist. Which is, I suppose, why we love them so much. They are big and beautiful and they simply are. Much like art. Keep in mind that even things that are functional can reflect an aesthetic viewpoint. You’ll see this better when we go to the artists’ commune later, but for now…”
While Yens continued, Leia moved closer to the marine biologist, drawing her to the side. This platform circled the entire underwater base, with floor-to-ceiling transparisteel windows and enough lights pointing into the dark to give the illusion that they were truly in the ocean. Leia spoke in a low voice, partly due to the reverence this place inspired, but also so she wouldn’t be overheard.
“You mentioned that the ice quakes were concerning,” Leia said. “I wanted to let you know that I can connect you with some universities I know—the University of Jenrand on Mon Cala may be the most helpful in this situation, with the best underwater sciences. And, of course, when the new government is fully operational, I could—”
“No.” Anyel’s face shuttered, her tone no longer friendly. She pushed past Leia, sweeping her arms out to get the group’s attention. “If I can direct your attention this way, please,” she said loudly.
Prime Minister Yens had clearly arranged for the underwater net fishers to put on something of a show for the guests. Soon, the first diver was joined by half a dozen more, each of them equipped with floodlights that cast diffusing beams of illumination through the water. The platform the guests were on completely encircled the bottom of the transparisteel building, and Leia was able to follow the lights of the underwater divers and the decorated bubble-domed submersible ships.
Although troubled by Anyel’s abrupt change in demeanor when she was only trying to help, Leia’s eyes strained into the darkness, eager to see something new, something unique. A tiny crustacean, bright blue with glowing fronds, skittered over the outside wall before sliding down into darkness. She got a better view of the massively large creatures that were nothing more than shadows in the water—her perspective was off, but she guessed they were at least twice the size of the ice sled, with wide bodies and protruding flippers—two on each side in the front, and three at the tail. Leia longed to grab one of the underwater speeders and race out into the depths, really get a good look at the creatures.
Leia was barely conscious of the way she moved. Most of the others had lingered near the divers, who played with the school of bioluminescent creatures, their long, featherlike bodies wafting in the water, each ripple a different glowing color.
It was eerie and beautiful simultaneously. She turned immediately to Han, who, like her, was staring into the depths of the underwater world.
“You like it,” she said, only a hint of a question in her voice.
Han nodded. “Being underwater isn’t that much different from being in space.”
“The danger,” Leia said, nodding. All that separated them from suffocation and death were the transparisteel walls, and that was true of both the underwater base here on Madurs and the cockpit on the Millennium Falcon.
“No,” Han said in a bemused tone. “Not just the danger. The unexpected.”
Leia smiled. Han loved space the way she loved him. The thought rose within her like a tide, and she felt it viscerally, like drowning. Swallowing down her emotion, Leia turned, moving around the circular base, away from him, from everyone. Her hand glided over the cool metal railing, her feet practically running as she chased one of the underwater fishers around the perimeter of the building. The beams of the floodlight bounced off shadows of creatures—
Until it didn’t.
Leia paused, and Han, who had started chasing after her, bumped into her. “Look,” she breathed.
“There’s nothing there.” Han leaned over the railing, his face centimeters from the cool transparisteel wall, but he was right.
While the rest of the sea was alive with creatures and plants, bustling with activity, that area—northwest of the main ice palace, Leia guessed—was empty.
Except for the faint outline of one long, black tower driving deep into the water.
There were no underwater creatures there, not even a lone curious crustacean. The underwater fisher seemed to realize that they’d highlighted a forbidden area, and the speeder zipped by, racing in the opposite direction.
Leia and Han stood at the railing, both squinting into the dark. That area, where nothing lived, was where the black tower was embedded in the ice.
“It’s time to go.” Leia looked up as Anyel approached. Behind the marine biologist, the tour group was leaving.
Mostly alone, Leia tried once more. “I’m not sure what the prime minister has told you,” Leia said. “But my offer before was truly meant to help this planet. I know of some grant applications that might—”
“I said no.” Anyel’s voice was softer now but just as firm.
“Wow,” Han said, catching up with the conversation. “Yens sure has a hold on you.”
Confusion flickered over the marine biologist’s face, and in that moment Leia realized that Anyel’s hesitation to accept help might not be coming from coercion on the part of the prime minister. As she followed Anyel toward the door, Leia saw Prime Minister Yens watching them from the corridor. His face was as dark as the water, and as unknowable.
Her eyes drifted to the blinking red light embedded in the ceiling directly above the prime minister’s head. She reached for Han, pressing her fingers into his arm and flicking her eyes to the blinking light. It was obvious what it was, more so as they drew closer.
A security feed.
Prime Minister Yens wasn’t the only one watching them.
CHAPTER 37
HAN
AS HAN HAD PREDICTED, PRIME Minister Yens had found an excuse to bypass the broken ice palaces and the ominous black tower, re-diverting the group from the ice fishing to the proose stables, neatly winding up back at the palace for a tour of the ice sculpture gallery. While Madurs was most famous for its livable art, from the grand palaces to the cube house residences, there was a thriving trade in ice sculptures, both grown and made. The traditional methods were still used, but the docent leading the tour had been particularly proud of the modern sculptors who started with a base—usually metal, but some artists used proose horns or bone—then dipped it in water from various parts of the moon with slightly different shades, freezing to the frames and forming organic, twisting designs that were sometimes enhanced with the judicious application of a laser blade. These nomadic sculptors traveled the surface of Madurs seeking just the right temperatures, ice floes, and glaciers to include with their art.
Leia fell in love with a painting made of deep indigo ice. It stood in the center of the room on a silver stand so that guests could walk all around it. The artist had etched white lines in the front to create an abstract image of expanding circles that reminded Han of a star map. He leaned forward to read the placard with information on the piece. The Broken Galaxy, it was called, made to represent the entire galaxy, from the Core Worlds to Wild Space.
“Art is not static,” the docent, a young man named Nondi, said. Everyone from the Halcyon gathered around as Nondi showed how the artist included a pendulum made of twisting black metal. The docent held the pendulum to the side and then let go, allowing the metal to skid across the back of the ice painting.
At first, Han couldn’t tell that anything had happened. But then he realized the back of the ice painting was deceptive; the ice was clear enough that he hadn’t noticed the careful ridges built onto that side. As the metal pendulum swung against the bumps, splinters formed over the back of the painting. The crowd gathered around the work of art had only a moment to see the damage the pendulum cracked along the back of the painting before a small floor heater kicked on, melting the cracks away.
Han watched the water drip to the floor, evaporating in the heat.
“But the painting is weaker now,” Leia protested. The metal broke the ice, and while the heat melded it back together, it was thinner. How many times could the brittle, thinning ice be scratched before it shattered?
Nondi smiled sadly. “That is the point of this work of art,” he said.
Leia shook her head even as the docent walked away. “It’s so beautiful, though,” she told Han. “It doesn’t have to be broken. All you have to do is not smash the pendulum into it.” She reached her hand out as if to touch the painting, but held back. Even the warmth of her fingers would hurt it. “I want to find out more about this,” she told Han as she hailed the docent. Han could only shake his head. Leave it to Leia to argue about art.
* * *
—
After trekking through the cold climate back to the main palace, everyone in the party looked forward to an evening inside. Even, admittedly, Han and Leia, who had both noted the distractions that had pulled them away from the ominous black tower embedded beyond the broken palaces.
Leia dressed for the banquet that night, choosing a slinky, drop-waisted gown of deep indigo that was the same color as the ice painting she’d admired earlier. When she moved, the material shifted in color, flashing dark purple and shifting to gold highlights. Ribbons of prismatic crystals hung on gold chain formed the sleeves, leaving the rest of her arms exposed. She paired the dress with a long, ropy strand of versilk pearls harvested from the oceanic world Wrea, and she loosened her hair into similar loopy braids that went halfway down her back before being tucked back into a gold band around her head. Han liked the effect; it made her look good. But it also made him think about how amazing it would be at the end of the day, when he helped her take those braids down.
Han didn’t change clothes.
He was quiet throughout the banquet that followed, but only Leia noticed. They were seated at the prime minister’s table, and Han was more than happy to let Leia do the talking. This dinner—false smiles, forced civility—it reminded him of that last time he’d been on Bespin. He had known something was wrong then, despite Lando’s assurances that all was well, and he knew something was wrong here…although Prime Minister Yens didn’t seem to be trying that hard to hide the truth. It had been as if he’d stood under the surveillance droid on purpose, so that they would notice it. He had taken them to see art where black metal broke native ice. Earlier that day, he’d set the route for the prooses when they’d first landed. Yens was not a subtle man. He could have had the shuttle land to the east on an open field away from the spaceport; he could have told the drivers to swoop south. But instead they’d gone just close enough to that strange black tower that it could have been an accident that they’d seen it.
Han was beginning to think it wasn’t.
These “accidents” of seeing things the prime minister seemingly didn’t want them to see no longer felt like accidents. And even if Yens kept insisting that they shouldn’t look or question too much, it no longer seemed as if he truly wanted to avert their gazes.
Lando had been that way, too. Saying just enough—and not saying even more—that Han had known something wasn’t quite right. Leia had, too. And once again, they were stuck in a position where they had to wait for—
Han dropped his fork with a clatter against his plate, a morsel of salna splattering on the table. Leia looked up at him curiously, but he gave her such an easy smile that she turned back to her conversation with the prime minister.
The last time Han had walked into a formal dining room had been on Bespin. And Darth Vader had been at the head of the table.
Darth Vader.
Leia’s father.
Han’s stomach soured at the thought. He didn’t bother picking his fork back up.
He didn’t care that Leia shared a bloodline with that monster. He did not care.
Leia reached under the table, touching his knee. Even though she hadn’t stopped talking with the prime minster, she found his hand, wove her fingers through his. She squeezed his palm.
She could tell something was wrong.
She didn’t even have to look at him to know.
Is that the Force? Han wondered. Vader had been able to anticipate blows or block shots before a blaster had even been fired. Was this the power Leia had inherited?
Her thumb stroked his knuckles under the table.
When Han looked up, Leia was watching him. Her brows creased, and he knew immediately what she was thinking—not because of some sort of strange power, but because her concern was painted vividly across her face. And so was her love.
Han gave her a watery smile, unable to push every dark thought away. “Just tired,” he muttered.
Leia raised her eyebrow. She didn’t believe him.
She was getting better at reading him.
Before Vader, before Lando’s betrayal had been made clear, before it all, Leia had told Han that she knew he’d be as good as gone once the Falcon had been repaired. Han thought of that moment often.
It was one of the few times Leia had been dead wrong.
How had she not seen it before? Even if he had actually gone—he did have to face Jabba still—he would have come back.
He would always come back for her.
Han was so lost in thought that he didn’t realize Leia had been making an excuse for their early departure from dinner until she stood up, and so did all the political leaders of Madurs. “Please, stay sitting,” she said, smiling graciously as she tugged on Han’s hand. Han pushed his chair back and stood. “Thank you for a lovely evening.” Leia inclined her head at the prime minister.
“You don’t have to leave early on my account,” Han said, following Leia as they wound through the tables that had been set up for the banquet in the reception hall.
“It’s fine,” Leia said, not breaking her smile as she nodded at various people from Madurs or the Halcyon. Soon enough, they reached the doors that led to the courtyard. An icy blast of cold met them, and Han clicked his thermal disk back on, even though it was just a short walk to the cube house.
The air was frigid as they raced through the gently falling snow across the courtyard to their guest residence. Leia laughed, great clouds of her breath twinkling under the delicate lights that had been strung overhead. The turbolift to their rooms opened, and Leia stepped inside, pulling Han behind her.
Leia leaned against the wall as the lift rose. Han marveled at her. Moments ago, she was the epitome of a graceful diplomat, making polite excuses to leave the table early after having a conversation with the leaders of this moon. And now she was giggling, snow caught on her eyelashes.
It was like she was two different people.
But, Han understood now, she wasn’t. She was not just his wife, nor was she just the people’s princess. She was Leia, and Han had to love all of her or none of her.
Even her blood.
Han wasn’t sure he would ever be able to let go of the rage and terror Vader instilled in him, even if the monster was dead now. Han had lived with those emotions trapped inside of him for nearly a year while he was frozen in carbonite. They had left scars, deep ones no one could see.
But he could separate those emotions from Leia.
And he could see all the sides of her. Leia fractured herself for everyone—the strong warrior for the Rebellion, the savvy politician for the Senate, the gracious leader for the people. But she was whole in front of him, multifaceted and, sometimes, cracked, but whole.
He had to love the whole of her, or nothing at all. That was the way of it with Leia—all or nothing.
He chose all.
* * *
—
Leia, who could not possibly guess at the dark and ultimately revelatory turn of his thoughts, grinned up at him as the turbolift doors opened and she yanked the headband from her hair, letting her braids tumble loose. “I’m so glad you talked me into leaving that banquet early.”
Han laughed, following her into the room. “Talked you into it? Sweetheart, I didn’t say a word.”
“Oh, you were quite insistent,” Leia confirmed. “And I couldn’t agree more.” Her smile turned feral. “Now let’s go to bed.”
CHAPTER 38
LEIA
