Star Wars

                               THE CRYSTAL STAR


                             by Vonda n. McIntyre

     Chapter
     1

     The children had been kidnapped.
     Leia ran headlong toward the glade, leaving behind the courtiers and  the
chamberlain of Munto Codru, leaving her attendants,  leaving  the  young  page
who--completely against protocol--had  stumbled  into  Leia's  receiveg  room,
bleeding from nose and ears, incoherent.
     But Leia understood her: Jaina and Jacen and Anakin had been stolen.
     Leia ran, now, through the trees and down a soft mossy path that led into
her children's playground. Jaina imagined the path was a starship course,  set
to hyperspace. Jacen pretended it  was  a  great  mysterious  road,  a  river.
Anakin, going through a literal phase,  insisted  that  it  was  only  a  path
through the forest to the meadow.
     The children loved the forest and the meadow, and Leia  loved  exclaiming
in wonder at the treasures they brought her: a squirmy bug, a stone with shiny
bits trapped in its matrix--rare jewels, perhaps! - - or the fragments  of  an
eggshell.
     Her vision blurred with tears. Her soft slipper  snared  in  the  tangled
moss. She stumbled, caught herself, and plunged onward, holding the skirts  of
her court robe high.
     In the old days, she thought, in the old days, I'd be wearing  boots  and
trousers, I wouldn't be hampered and tripped by my own clothing!
     Her breath burned in her throat.
     And I'd be able to run from my receiveg room to the forest glade  without
losing my breath!
     The green afternoon light shifted and fluttered around her.  Before  her,
the light brightened where the forest opened into a water-meadow,  the  meadow
where her children had been playing.
     Leia ran toward it, gasping, her legs heavy.
     She was running toward an absence, not  a  presence,  toward  a  terrible
void.
     She cried out to herself, How could this happen? How is this possible?
     The answer--the only way it could be possible - - terrified  her.  For  a
short time, her ability to  sense  the  presence  of  her  children  had  been
neutralized. Only a manipulation of the Force could have such an effect.
     Leia reached the meadow. She ran toward the creek where Jaina  and  Jacen
had splashed and played and taught little Anakin to swim.
     A crater was ripped into the  soft  grass.  The  leafy  blades  had  been
flattened into a circle around the raw patch of empty dirt.
     A pressure bomb! Leia thought in horror.
     A pressure bomb had gone off, near her children.
     They aren't dead! she told herself. They can't be, I'd know if they  were
dead!
     At the edge of the blast area, Chewbacca lay sprawled in  a  heap.  Blood
flowed bright against his chestnut coat.
     Leia fell to her knees beside him, oblivious to the mud.  She  feared  he
was dead--but he was still bleeding, still breathing.  She  pressed  her  hand
against the deep gash in his leg, desperate to stop the flow of blood and save
his life. His powerful pulse drove the blood from his body. Like the page,  he
also bled from ears and nostrils.
     A dreadful, grieving, keening sound escaped him, not a groan of pain  but
a cry of rage and remorse.
     "Lie still!" Leia said. "Chewbacca, lie  still!  The  doctor  is  coming,
you'll be all right, what happened, oh, what happened?"
     He cried out again, and Leia understood that he felt such despair that he
wanted to die. He had adopted her family as his own, his Honor Family, and  he
had failed to protect the children.
     "You can't die!" He must live, she thought. He must. Only he can tell  me
who stole my children. "Come back! Come back to me!"
     Her aides and the chamberlain hurried out of the  forest,  trampling  the
delicate high grass, exclaiming in outrage when the slender blades  cut  them.
Leia's children had wandered the meadow at liberty, neither leaving footprints
nor receiveg any harm. The grass parted before them like magic.
     Magic, for my magic children, Leia thought. I  thought  I  had  protected
them, I thought they could never come to any harm.
     Hot tears ran down her cheeks.
     The courtiers and advisers and guards gathered around her.
     "Madam, madam," said the chamberlain of Munto Codru. Out here in the wild
sun and the wind, Mr. Iyon's face was flushed and he looked uncomfortable.
     "Did you bring the doctor?" Leia cried. "Get the doctor!"
     "I sent for her, madam."
     Mr. Iyon tried to make her get up, tried to take over staunching the flow
of blood from Chewbacca's wound, but she pushed him  away  with  a  sharp  ^w.
Chewbacca's pulse faltered. Leia feared he was failing.
     You will not die, she thought. You must not die. I won't let you die!
     She drew on her inadequate knowledge  to  strengthen  him.  She  bitterly
regretted the responsibilities of statecraft that had prevented her from being
properly trained in the ways of the Force.
     Leia knew that if she allowed Chewbacca's hot  blood  to  gush  past  her
hands, his life, too, would stream away.
     The doctor ran across the field. Her wyrwulf loped behind  her,  carrying
her equipment and supplies. The doctor's wyrwulf reminded her that Mr.  Iyon's
wyrwulf had been playing with her children.
     It had disappeared as well.
     Dr. Hyos knelt beside Leia. She observed  Chewbacca's  wound  and  Leia's
first aid with a glance. "Ah," she said briskly. "Good work."
     "Come away, now, Princess," the chamberlain said.
     "Not yet!" Dr. Hyos exclaimed. "I have only four hands,  after  all.  The
princess is quite all right where she is."
     The wyrwulf  sat  on  its  haunches  between  Leia  and  Dr.  Hyos.  Leia
shuddered. The wyrwulf turned its massive head, slowly, gently, staring at her
with great limpid liquid blue eyes. Its coat was thick and  brown,  with  long
coarse black guard hairs.
     The doctor's wyrwulf panted and slavered, its  tongue  lolling  over  its
pitted fangs. Its face was grotesque. Its hot bitter breath made Leia flinch.
     Dr. Hyos's four hands,  so  languid  at  rest,  moved  quickly  over  the
panniers strapped to the wyrwulf's sides.
     "Do you see what I am doing, my dear?" she said softly. "The bleeding  is
most important. Our princess has stopped it."
     The doctor spoke to the wyrwulf, explaining everything she did.
     Dr. Hyos drew pressure bandages from one compartment  as  she  chose  the
proper medicine from another. Always, she told the wyrwulf what she was doing.
Her long gold fingers were deft and sure.
     Leia allowed herself a moment of hope, even with her hands  covered  with
Chewbacca's hot blood. He had closed his eyes; he had stopped moving.
     "As the bandage seals itself, my princess," Dr.  Hyos  said,  "move  your
hand from the wound."
     Leia obeyed. Dr. Hyos pressed  the  bandage  to  Chewbacca's  flank.  The
bandage pressed itself against Leia's hand, clasped itself to  Chewbacca,  and
wound its connectors through his fur. The wyrwulf watched, its tongue lolling.
     Leia sat back on her heels. Her hands were  sticky  and  her  robes  were
smeared and she viewed everything in the clarity of horrified belief.
     Dr. Hyos examined Chewbacca, frowning over the drying  streaks  of  blood
that had trickled from his nose and ears.
     "Pressure bomb..." she said.
     Leia remembered, as if from a distant dream, the sound of a  single  clap
of thunder. She had thought--her thoughts had been so slow--t the morning must
have turned from fair to rain; she had thought, fondly, that  Chewbacca  would
soon bring the twins and Anakin in from the meadow. She could  take  a  moment
from her duties to cuddle them, to admire their newest treasures, to see  that
they had their lunch.
     Now it was mid-afn. How could it be so late in the day, when such a short
time ago it had not yet been lunchtime?
     "Madam--" Chamberlain Iyon said. But he did not try again  to  make  Leia
come away.
     "Close  the  port,"  Leia  said.  "Block  the  roads.  Can  the  page  be
questioned? Check the port controller--is there any chance the kidnappers have
left the planet?"
     As she spoke, she feared any measures she might take  would  be  useless,
and if not useless, too late.
     But if they've fled, she thought, I could chase them in Alderaan. I could
catch them, my little ship can catch anything--
     "Madam, closing the port would not be wise."
     She glared at him, instantly suspicious of a man she had trusted  only  a
moment before.
     "They took your--" She hesitated, unsure what to say.
     "My wyrwulf, madam," he said. "Yes."
     "Your wyrwulf. Don't you care?"
     "I care very much, madam. And I understand our traditions,  which  you--I
beg your pardon--d not. Closing the spaceport is unnec."
     "The kidnappers will try to escape Munto Codru," she said.
     Mr. Iyon spread his four hands.
     "They will not. There are traditions,"  he  said.  "If  we  follow  them,
nothing will happen to the children--that too is the tradition."
     Leia knew of Munto Codru's traditions of abduction and ransom.  That  was
why Chewbacca had been staying so close to the children. That  was  why  extra
security surrounded and guarded the ancient castle. For the  people  of  Munto
Codru, coup abduction was an important and traditional political sport.
     It was a sport in which Leia did not care to participate.
     "It's a most audacious abduction," the chamberlain said.
     "And a cruel one!" Leia said. "Chewbacca is  wounded!  And  the  pressure
bomb--my children--" She fought for control of her voice andof her fear.
     "The coup-counters detonated a pressure bomb  only  to  prove  that  they
could, madam," Mr. Iyon said.
     "But no one is supposed to be injured, during your coup abductions!"
     "No one of noble birth, Princess Leia," he said.
     "My title is "Chief of Stateea"' sir," she said angrily. "Not  "Princess.
"' Not any longer. The world where I was a princess is long destroyed. We live
in a Republic, now."
     "I know it, madam. Please forgive our old-fashioned ways."
     "They must know they haven't a hope," Leia said. "Of receiveg  a  ransom,
of escape. And if they should..." She could not bring herself to  say  the  ^w
harm.
     "Please allow me to advise you in this matter," the chamberlain said.  He
leaned toward her, intense. "If you apply the rules of the Republic, disaster-
-tragedy--w be the result."
     "The ransomers," Dr. Hyos said, with every evidence of approval, "must be
very brave. But young and inexperienced as well. The family... which would  it
be?" She glanced at Mr. Iyon. "The Sibiu, perhaps?"
     "They have insufficient resources," the chamberlain said.
     Whoever it was, Leia thought, needed only the resources of the Force. The
dark side of the Force.
     Mr. Iyon gestured to the broken ground, to Chewbacca.  "This  required  a
skiff, a tractor beam. Connections with arms smugglers, to obtain the pressure
bomb."
     "Ah. The Temebiu, then."
     "It could be," the chamberlain said. "They are ambitious."
     "I'll show them ambition," Leia muttered.
     "Madam, please. Your children will not be harmed--cannot be  harmed,  for
the ransomers to achieve their goals. They may look upon the event as a  great
adventure--"
     "Our friend Chewbacca has been wounded nearly to death!" Leia cried.  "My
children will not find that amusing. Nor do Iffwas
     "It is a shame," the chamberlain said. "Perhaps he did not comprehend the
information on our traditions? He was meant to surrender."
     "Close the port," Leia said again, her voice tight. She was too angry  to
respond to the chamberlain's comment. "I won't take any chances  that  they'll
leave Munto Codru."
     "Very well," Mr. Iyon  said.  "It  is  possible...  but  we  must  do  it
carefully. We must do it... in a way to  amuse  rather  than  offend...."  His
voice trailed off thoughtfully.
     Dr. Hyos checked Chewbacca's pulse at the large vein the wound  had  come
so close to piercing. "Stable. There. Good. To the surgery with you."
     Chewbacca, barely conscious, gazed at Leia with uncomprehending eyes.
     "Battlefield medicine," Dr. Hyos said. "Haven't done any in a long  time.
Didn't think I'd ever have to see a battlefield again."
     "Neither did I," Leia said.
     The wyrwulf howled.

     Leia had seldom worried about the safety of Jaina and Jacen and Anakin.
     Thought about it, made arrangements for it, certainly; talked  about  it,
with the children's nanny, Winter, andwith Han  and  Luke  andwiththe  supreme
worrier, See-Threepio. But Leia herself had seldom worried. She would be aware
of any danger. Her lack of training would not hamper  her  perception  of  her
children. Besides, if she somehow did not know  of  the  danger,  Luke  surely
would. Winter would protect the children with her  life.  And  when  Chewbacca
accompanied Leia's family, as he so often did, he spent much of his time  with
the young ones. Who better to ensure their safety?
     And Han, Leia's dear Han, had helped orchestrate the spreading peace. All
children, not just the children of the people who  brought  down  the  Empire,
should be safe.
     Or so Leia had thought.
     Leia followed Dr. Hyos's assistants as they carried Chewbacca back to the
surgery in the ancient Munto Codru castle.
     She felt very alone. Han and Luke had left  on  an  adventure,  with  her
blessing. Winter had taken the opportunity of this peaceful tour to  attend  a
conference on runaway children. She too was worlds away.
     The coincidence did not amuse Leia.
     She waited outside the surgery, where Dr. Hyos and her assistants  worked
to heal Chewbacca's wounds. Courtiers  and  aides  hovered  until  Leia,  with
careful courtesy, sent them away.
     The wyrwulf sprawled before the surgery doors. Dr. Hyos had spoken to it,
told it that it could not enter the surgery until it was older, and left it on
guard. It dozed, and its head tipped forward until it balanced on the tips  of
its awful fangs.
     Chamberlain Iyon hurried into the stark stone waiting room.
     "There's no sign," he said. "No sign. They are very  bold,  very  clever.
Madam, we must wait for them to communicate."
     "Wait?" Leia exclaimed. "That seems... unwise... to  me."  When  she  was
younger she would have chosen a more  intemperate  description:  Stupid.  Ill-
advised. Idiotic.
     "The ransom demand will come  in  the  morning,"  the  chamberlain  said,
trying to reassure her.
     "Morning! By morning the kidnappers could escape!"
     "They cannot escape, madam. The port is  closed.  And  furthermore,  they
will not escape. They have no reason to."
     "But it's been two hours," Leia said. "The people who stole  my  children
also stole two hours!"
     Mr. Iyon frowned. "How, stole? Madam, you worked through the  noon  hour.
The chronos are correct, the sun is in its proper place..." He let  his  voice
trail off, aware that his feeble joke had failed to lighten the mood.
     "They stole  two  hours,"  Leia  said  again.  "These  were  no  ordinary
kidnappers! Ordinary kidnappers could never get  through  our  defenses,  they
couldn't get past Chewbacca, they couldn't steal time from us!"
     "But, madam, as I explained--Munto  Codru  produces  kidnappers  of  rare
quality." He looked at her sadly.
     He thinks I'm reacting from fear and grief, Leia thought. If I tell him I
suspect a follower of the dark side is responsible  for  this  outrage,  he'll
believe I've lost my mind.
     The doors of the surgery opened; Dr.  Hyos  patted  the  wyrwulf's  heavy
head, came to Leia, and took her hands. The doctor held each of  Leia's  hands
pressed between two of her own.
     "Chewbacca," she said. "He'll be fine. His  hearing  will  take  time  to
recover from the effects of the pressure bomb. He'll be weak while  he  builds
up his blood."
     "Did he tell you--"
     "He's not in any shape to tell anyone anything.  Leia,  my  princess,  he
must sleep or he'll be in danger."
     "Did you send my message to Han and Luke?" Leia asked the chamberlain.
     "Yes, madam, but I regret--they are too close to Crseih Station. The star
system is most violent.  The  black  hole,  its  quantum  crystal  companion--
theirthe influence blocks communication."
     "Then we must send a ship out after them."
     "Madam, the port is closed."
     "I closed the port! I can order a ship to leave the planet!"
     Concerned and gentle, he touched her hand in comfort.
     "We must maintain an illusion," he said. "The port is closed because of a
malfunction in the tracking equipment. If a ship leaves, if the  emergency  is
revealed publicly to be a sham, we will have offered the  ransomers  a  mortal
insult."
     "But you said they'd know--"
     "The kidnappers," Dr. Hyos said. "They know, and we know.  Everyone  else
may guess. No matter. Perception, that's what matters. Not reality."
     "Dr. Hyos is correct, madam," the chamberlain said. "I  beg  you,  madam,
carry on with your afternoon's appointments as if nothing had  happened.  Call
on the bravery for which we all honor you. For the sake of the children."
     Leia struggled to hide her trembling, struggled to think clearly.
     By the time a ship could reach Han, she thought,  whatever  happens  will
have happened. I gain nothing by sending for him.
     "I'll  go  back  to  the  receiveg  room,"  she  said.  "I'll  finish  my
appointments. If we haven't  heard  from--if  we  haven't  heard  anything  by
sundown--"
     "By morning, please, madam." The  chamberlain's  face  was  anxious.  "By
morning, I assure you, we'll have instructions."
     "I'll finish my appointments." Leia left the waiting room.
     "Leia--" Dr. Hyos said.
     "Madam--" the chamberlain said.
     "What!" She faced them both, glaring.
     Mr. Iyon gestured, unhappily, ^wlessly, at her bloody  hands,  her  muddy
skirt.
     I've met ambassadors and heads of state in worse clothes than this,  Leia
thought. Worse clothes, and dirtier.

     Leia scrubbed Chewbacca's blood from her  hands.  Her  gown  was  a  lost
cause, bloodied and mud stained, its delicate  fabric  slashed  by  the  grass
blades. She threw it into the recycler, and her  slippers  after  it.  In  her
bathing room, as she stood in her shift, she started to tremble.  She  lowered
her eyelids, blotting out the reflection of her own disarranged hair and stark
face and staring eyes, reaching for calm, reaching for certainty.
     The fluting warble of Artoo-Detoo drifted into the room. The  droid  came
closer. At the same time, Leia heard a person's voice, high and  childish  and
uncertain.
     "No, I don't remember, I don't remember..."
     Artoo-Detoo sang.
     Leia hurried toward the voices. As she entered her bedchamber,  the  silk
rugs soft beneath her bare feet, a young Codru-Ji, a  native  of  this  world,
backed erratically into the room.
     "I don't know, I don't remember," she said.
     Artoo-Detoo's front foot preceded his cylindrical body; finally his domed
head and his rear feet appeared in the doorway. He was herding the Codru-Ji to
her.
     "I only saw that the small ones were gone, and the large one was hurt,  I
only ran for help."
     It was the page who had reported  the  kidnapping.  The  blood  had  been
washed from her face, and her abrasions treated, and her torn clothes replaced
by a hospital gown.
     Leia hurried forward. "Oh, my  dear--"  The  page  did  not  react.  Leia
touched her upper shoulder.
     Startled by the touch, the page jumped straight up and turned  around  in
the air. She came down with all four hands clenched into fists behind her, and
backed rapidly away.
     She saw Leia. Her eyes widened.
     "Forgive me, forgive me--"
     Leia took her gently by one lower arm and urged her into the room.
     "Why are you out of bed?" Leia asked. "You should be resting--healing."
     "The small droid came to me, and I saw I must beg your forgiveness--"
     "Artoo, how could you?" Leia said. "Fetch Dr. Hyos--qklyffwas
     The droid warbled, backed up, came forward, hesitated.
     "Hurry!"
     With a descending trill, the droid scooted through the doorway.
     Leia led the page to a couch and tried to help her to sit. At  first  the
page resisted.
     "No, I mustn't sit--"
     "It's all right," Leia said. "Please don't stand on ceremony."
     Leia tried to urge her to sit, but the page's knees locked. Leia  allowed
her to remain standing, and stood beside her. "You  saved  Chewbacca's  life,"
Leia said. "And you gave the alarm--"
     The page stared at her, uncomprehending.
     "Milady, I'm sorry, I cannot hear..." She put her hands to her ears.  She
started to cry, her sobs shaking her silently.
     "I don't know what happened," she said, her ^ws broken  by  tears.  "They
were there, playing, and then--" She shuddered and flinched; Leia wondered  if
she was experiencing the pressure bomb all  over  again.  "I...  I  must  have
fallen asleep, madam. I should be exiled! And when I awoke the small ones were
gone, and--" She touched the shells of  her  ears.  She  made  a  high-pitched
whistling sound in her own language. "That is to say, Mr. Chewbacca was  hurt,
and--and I cannot hear, madam!"
     Leia held her--awkwardly, because of the difference in their  forms,  but
tenderly--and tried to soothe her.
     Dr. Hyos arrived, indignant that her patient had been disturbed.
     "I can't imagine what Artoo was thinking, to bring her here," Leia  said.
"Of course she shouldn't be up--"
     "She shouldn't be down," Dr. Hyos said cryptically. "But you are correct,
she must rest and recover."
     The page broke away from Dr. Hyos and grasped Leia's hands.
     "I am so sorry," she said.
     "I forgive you," Leia said, slowly and carefully. "I forgive you. Do  you
understand me?"
     The page hesitated, then nodded, and allowed the doctor to take her away.
     Artoo-Detoo remained in Leia's apartment, whistling unhappily and  arcing
back and forth while Leia dressed. His noise irritated her, but he  would  not
stop and he would not stay still and he would not tell her what was wrong.  He
followed her from her  apartments.  When  they  came  to  an  intersection  of
corridors, he rolled along one  that  led  outside,  while  Leia  squared  her
shoulders and trudged toward the meeting room.
     Artoo-Detoo whistled insistently.
     "I can't," Leia said. "I have to... pretend."
     She walked into the receiveg room.  The  herald,  usually  so  efficient,
glanced at her, dismissed her with his gaze, took a step toward  her  to  show
her out, then snapped to attention, recognizing her at last despite her  rough
clothes.
     "Chief of State of the New Republic, daughter of--"
     "No time for the whole li/!" Leia said. The herald fell silent.  Everyone
in the room, her aides and advisers and native Codru-Ji alike, stared  at  her
in confusion. The chamberlain took a hesitant step toward her.
     Leia crossed the receiveg room, her boots  loud  on  the  polished  stone
floor. She took her place in the circle of chairs, leaned  back,  and  crossed
her legs. The heavy fabric of her stiff new  hiking  trousers  rasped  against
itself. She forced herself to look relaxed.
     "Your pardon, Ambassador Kirl," she said to the representative  from  the
province of Kirl. "Thank you for your patience. We had a  slight...  a  slight
domestic upset." She forced her most charming smile. "You know  how  it  is--"
Her voice suddenly failed her.
     The handsome Kirlian ambassador, who took his  name  from  his  province,
spread all four hands. He returned her smile.
     "I do know how it is," Kirl said. "Many's the time  I've  interrupted  my
work--z you say, for a slight domestic upset. No apology is necessary,  though
you are notably gracious to offer it!"
     Always before, his grandiose manner had amused and sometimes even charmed
her. Now it felt to Leia as if his ^ws went on forever, each one  dragged  out
like molasses.
     The day continued, interminably. Munto Codru's convoluted politics  meant
that she had to receive ambassadors from  an  endless  number  of  independent
political entities. No wonder the world lay at the edge--outside the  edge--of
importance to the Republic. It  spent  most  of  its  energy  facing  its  own
international disagreements. Its citizens had little time  or  attention  left
over for the larger questions of interplanetary cooperation.  They  had  taken
years to agree to choose a chamberlain, another year to settle on Mr. Iyon.
     When the evening bell rang, the ambassador bowed  and  withdrew.  As  the
aides shut the doors of the receiveg chamber, the people left in  the  waiting
room whistled and sighed in the native language. The  doors  closed,  shutting
off the sound.
     "Any ^w?" Leia asked, her voice tight.
     "No, madam," the chamberlain said. "But we must not expect to hear before
morning. That is the tradition."
     "Those other people," Leia said. "What did they want? Are you  sure  they
weren't the kidnappers, trying to talk to me?"
     "What other people?"
     "The people still in my waiting room."
     "Nothing and no one of importance, madam," Mr. Iyon said. "Small matters-
-many invented so the petitioner may go home and say, "I met  the  princess--I
spoke to the Chief of State of the New Republicffby '"
     "Nevertheless, I'd like to speak with them."
     "They will return. Come, now, you must  eat.  Tomorrow  you'll  negotiate
with the ransomers, and the children will come home, and everything will be as
it was."
     Leia forced herself to unclench her hands from the arms of her chair.
     Her fingernails had torn small crescents into the heavy satin upholstery.

     Leia hurried toward the silent surgery. Inside, Dr.  Hyos  stood  at  her
desk. The doctor's eyes were closed. She dozed, standing  up,  with  all  four
arms slightly extended, shifting subtly as if in a slow-motion dance or a soft
breeze, balancing her. Leia had never seen a native of Munto Codru sleep.
     What an odd position, Leia thought. Is that  normal?  Or  unique  to  Dr.
Hyos? Maybe she just fell asleep standing up. I'm about to do the same.
     The wyrwulf lay at the doctor's feet. It raised  its  horrible  head  and
gazed at Leia with its horrible bright eyes. It snorted and laid its head back
on its frontmost paws. But it did not close its eyes. Leia had no reason to be
frightened of the wyrwulf, but it disconcerted her nonetheless.
     Leia let the doctor sleep. Walking softly,  giving  the  wyrwulf  a  wide
berth, she entered Chewbacca's sickroom.
     He lay in a hammock that cradled his  huge  form.  Regeneration  bandages
covered his leg. Leia had been afraid she would find him immersed in  a  bacta
tank, suspended and unable to communicate.
     Leia sat in a chair nearby and watched him, impatient with his sleep. His
breathing was shallow and fast. She wanted him to wake. She wanted to talk  to
him, to find out what he had seen, to find out if he too had lost two hours or
if he had observed what had happened and could confirm  her  suspicions  about
these events.
     Andof course she wanted to reassure him, to tell him she  did  not  blame
him--
     A wave of fury rushed across her, so powerful that she gasped.
     She did blame him. She was furious at him. There was nothing  at  all  in
the world that she could say to him.
     Leia rose and backed out of the room. She closed the  door,  turned,  and
very nearly ran into Dr. Hyos.
     "Oh--! I saw you sleeping, I didn't want to wake you."
     "Did you speak with Chewbacca?"
     "No, I--" How could she admit how she felt  about  her  husband's  oldest
friend? "Isn't he sedated?"
     "Of course. He is badly injured."
     "Have you treated Wookiees before?"
     "No, Chewbacca is the first of his kind to visit our world."
     "Then how did you know how to treat him?"
     "It's my job to know. I have never treated a human, either, but when your
mission was announced, I made it my business to learn something of the  people
who would visit us."
     "He's lucky," Leia said. He has no worries, she thought,  just  oblivion.
By the time he's healed, and awakes, I'll know... and I'll have lived  through
every hellish moment.
     "He's very badly hurt," Dr. Hyos said. "And  he  lost  a  great  deal  of
blood. If he were lucky, he would not have been injured."
     "Can you wake him? Just for a moment? If he saw something, anything--"
     "The page saw nothing. She heard nothing. I doubt Chewbacca saw  anything
either. It would be a great risk to wake him."
     "But he might--"
     "An unnec risk."
     Dr. Hyos turned Leia toward the front of the surgery  and  led  her  away
from Chewbacca's room.
     "You've had a long, terrible day," the doctor said. "Try to rest. A  coup
abduction is never easy. But tomorrow--"
     A high keening sound cut off her ^ws. She hurried  into  a  nearby  room.
Leia followed, all too aware that the wyrwulf followed too. Its claws  clacked
loudly on the floor.
     The page stood in the center of the room, still wearing the soft hospital
gown, steadied in her upright position by a harness. The doctor stopped beside
her, stroked her soft short hair, soothed her. They spoke  to  each  other  in
their own language, whistles and warbles  that  passed  beyond  the  range  of
Leia's hearing. Soon the page dozed again. Dr. Hyos left her, looking worried.
     "Will she be all right?"
     "Are you still here?"
     "Will she?"
     "The bomb damaged her hearing."
     "But you were talking to her--she heard you. She'll heal, won't she?"
     "I fear she will never recover the highest range. And yet she will live."
     "I'm glad," Leia said.
     "Are you?" Dr. Hyos exclaimed.
     "That she'll live? Of course!"
     "Our hearing is more sensitive than yours, and more  delicate.  Our  most
intimate communications take place in the upper ranges," Dr. Hyos said softly.
"Imagine your body numb. Imagine all your senses reduced by half. All. Perhaps
you humans  could  endure  such  an  existence,  but  her  future  will  be...
difficult."
     "Oh," Leia said. "I didn't know. I'm so sorry." She  glanced  toward  the
page with renewed sympathy. "Wouldn't she be more comfortable lying down?"
     "Adults don't sleep lying down."
     The wyrwulf raised its head and gazed at Leia.
     "Go," Dr. Hyos said kindly. "Rest."

     Leia flung herself onto her bed with  a  cry  of  despair.  How  had  she
survived this intolerable, interminable day? Her muscles  ached  with  tension
that she could not dispel. She regretted, as she had regretted so often in the
past, the duties that had kept her from studying the way of the Jedi.
     I'll bet Luke just says to his body, Enough, no more  being  stiff,  Leia
thought uncharitably. Or he says to himself, I don't feel  any  pain,  and  he
doesn't.
     How can I wait till morning to hear from the kidnappers?
     She believed the chamberlain's assurances that a coup abduction  was  not
meant to hurt its victims. And yet she believed her children  were  in  mortal
danger. If the kidnappers had, somehow, allied themselves with a  practitioner
of the dark side...
     It must be. The chamberlain and Dr. Hyos, whom  Leia  thought  admirable,
considered coup kidnappers honorable. But the kidnappers  of  Leia's  children
were ruthless and cruel: they had injured Chewbacca and  the  page  when  they
were already unconscious, helpless.
     The  pressure  bomb!  Leia  thought.  It  wasn't  detonated  to  aid  the
kidnapping--it was detonated to destroy evidence. Evidence that  someone  used
the dark side....
     She lay on her back and let the tears come. Above  her,  the  translucent
stone ceiling shone with pearlescent light, its delicate, intricate carvings a
mystery to her as to everyone. The contemporary societies of Munto Codru  used
the ancient castles as provincial capitals, or avoided them as haunted places.
But  a  previous  civilization  had  built  the  labyrinthine   palaces.   The
civilization had written its history on rock walls carved so  thin  that  they
looked like water-worn glass. The civilization had disappeared,  leaving  only
its castles and its unreadable stories.
     The carvings blurred beyond Leia's hot tears.
     In the outer room of  Leia's  apartment,  the  annunciator  chimed.  Leia
dragged herself to her feet.
     Perhaps there's a message! she thought.
     She hurried out of her bedroom. Mr. Iyon stood in the doorway.
     "You've heard?"
     "No, madam," he said. "Please,  I  assure  you,  they'll  communicate  by
morning."
     "They could be anywhere by then!"
     "No, they'll be near."
     "They aren't near!" Leia insisted. "Sir, we've waited long enough. By now
they've surely escaped!"
     "But, madam, escape is unnec--m convenient to stay near. Especially  with
young children. They could even be in the castle."
     "In the castle? How could they be? They aren't!"
     "What better place to hide than right beside  our  ears?  The  castle  is
thousands of years old. Its basements and tunnels extend into the ground--even
into the mountain--"
     "I'd know! Don't you see, I'd know if they were near!  We  must  begin  a
search."
     Mr. Iyon gazed at her solemnly. Gently he took her arm and guided her  to
a chair. When Leia was seated, Mr. Iyon sat facing her,  perched  gingerly  on
the edge of the soft couch.
     "If you order it, madam, I will of course obey--"
     "I do order it!"
     his--but I wish to be certain you understand what you are asking."
     "I--" She hesitated. "You have more to tell me."
     He inclined his head in a slow nod. He gazed at the elaborately patterned
carpet.
     "If anything disturbs the negotiations," he said, "everyone  loses  face.
The kidnappers will be forced to recoup."
     "By hurting the children?"
     "They would sacrifice their own ambitions,  if  they  injured  anyone  of
noble birth." He stopped, and continued with difficulty. "But if you refuse to
negotiate,  the  kidnappers  may  feel  inclined  to  make  some   sacrifice--
ffdemonstrate their sincerity."
     Leia could not understand what he meant. How could the kidnappers make  a
sacrifice, if their own traditions forbade them to hurt her children?
     "Your wyrwulf," she said. "You're afraid they'll sacrifice your wyrwulf."
     Mr. Iyon raised his head and looked her in the eyes. He said nothing.
     "But it isn't coup kidnappers!" Leia said. "Don't you understand, no  one
from Munto Codru is involved!"
     "Are you certain, madam?"
     She was--she had been--but she was so tired,  and  she  was  so  torn  by
grief, so tempted  to  believe  that  in  the  morning,  everything  would  be
resolved, the children would be safe.
     I won't answer yet, Leia thought. For a few minutes, I  can  think  about
what Chamberlain Iyon has said.
     Mr. Iyon clapped his two left hands together. One of his  aides  entered,
carrying a tray that bore a delicate antique stone pot, a teacup, a  plate  of
cookies. Light shone through the sides  of  the  teapot,  liquid  gold  moving
gently among carvings of the same vintage as the castle.
     "I took the liberty of bringing you some tea. It is soothing."
     She had eaten nothing all day. A moment ago  she  would  have  sworn  she
could never eat again, but her dry mouth  suddenly  watered  and  her  stomach
growled, most inelegantly, when she smelled the fragrant tea and the thin  nut
cookies.
     "Thank you, Mr. Iyon," Leia said, grateful for the interruption. "But you
haven't brought yourself a cup. There's another, on the sideboard."
     "I've eaten already, madam."
     "I insist," Leia said, suddenly, reflexively suspicious, and  embarrassed
at herself for her reaction.
     The aide fetched another cup, poured the tea, and withdrew.  Leia  picked
up her cup, and a cookie.
     "These are Chef's best sweets," she said. "Have you had  them?"  She  bit
into one, confident that the chef would no more  let  someone  adulterate  his
recipe than he would swing from the sconces above a state dinner.  The  cookie
vanished in her mouth like air, leaving a sweet, spicy flavor and  taking  the
edge off her hunger.
     "I cannot eat sweets, madam." He sighed. "But I will join you in a cup of
tea." He drank the cupful in one gulp.
     Surprised, still suspicious, even wondering if she had made a mistake  by
eating the cookie, Leia sipped her tea. She  was  amazed  at  her  ability  to
perform any normal action. She felt like she should  be  running,  blaster  in
hand, chasing the enemy.
     In the old days, she thought, we knew who the enemy was.
     "It is good of you to bring the latest Coruscant fashions to Munto Codru,
" the chamberlain said, trying to change the subject. "News travels so slowly,
this far from the center of government."
     "What--?" She remembered what she was wearing: hiking trousers and a soft
leather shirt and heavy boots. She started to explain that she  had  not  been
able to face putting on another fancy court dress. Then she wondered if he was
subtly chiding her for her choice in clothing.
     But he was perfectly sincere. Leia blushed. She searched  for  a  way  to
explain without having him suspect she was making fun of him.
     "It isn't quite the height of fashion," she  said.  She  sipped  her  tea
again. "But it's comfortable, and--" She shrugged.
     Mr. Iyon yawned. His thin lips pulled back from his prominent  teeth.  He
snapped his mouth shut.
     "I beg your pardon, madam!"
     Leia accepted his apology with a nod, then she yawned too.
     "We should have had pepper tea," she said, "instead  of  this.  Delicious
though it is."
     Leia struggled to remember the question she was  trying  to  answer.  Mr.
Iyon had said that the children must be near. Leia doubted that was possible.
     If they were hidden nearby, she thought, wouldn't I know it?  Wouldn't  I
feel it? They must have been stolen by a master of the dark side....
     Maybe it isn't the dark side after all, Leia thought, desperately seeking
comfort. Maybe the castle's built on some unique mineral, maybe it disrupts my
perceptions. If ysalamiri can disturb the Force, why not a phenomenon from the
depths of a planet?
     Leia yawned again. Like a mirror image, so did Mr. Iyon. Sleep drew  Leia
irresistibly.
     "We must..." Her ^ws trailed off. She could not recall what she had  been
about to say.
     "Good night, madam," the chamberlain said. His voice was kindly. He rose,
pushing himself from the couch like a man exhausted, levering himself with all
four arms. He stumbled once on the way to the door. Leia was too sleepy to  be
surprised by his lapse in grace.
     Her need for sleep overtook her dread. She told herself to  get  up,  but
the chair was so comfortable...
     I'll just rest here a moment, she thought.

     Chapter
     2

     "Just like old times, hey, kid?" Han Solo said to Luke Skywalker.
     Sitting in the copilot's seat of the Millennium Falcon, Luke grinned.
     "Just like old times except the Empire isn't trying to shoot  us  out  of
the sky--"
     "You got that right."
     "And Jabba the Hutt isn't after your hide for dumping that spice load--"
     "Yeah."
     "And nobody is trying to collect old gambling debts from you."
     "Also true," Han said, thinking, But I might get  around  to  running  up
some new gambling debts. After all, what's a vacation for?
     "Finally, you can't ogle every beautiful woman who comes by."
     "Sure I can," Han said, then hurried to defend himself as Luke  chuckled.
"Nothing wrong with looking. Leia and I know where we stand with  each  other,
we trust each other, she's not jealous."
     Luke burst into outright laughter.
     "And you wouldn't mind," he  said,  "if  she  flirted  with  the  Kirlian
ambassador. Good-looking guy, that Kirlian ambassador."
     "Nothing wrong with looking," Han said stubbornly. "Or a little  innocent
flirtation. But the Kirlian ambassador better watch his  hands.  All  four  of
them.  Hey,  kid,  listen,  flirting  is  one  of  the  best   inventions   of
civilization." Han grinned.
     Luke hated it when Han called him "kid." That  was  why  he  did  it.  He
stared out into hyperspace.
     "You ought to do more flirting yourself," Han said.
     "If I might be of  service,  Master  Luke,"  See-Threepio  said,  leaning
forward from the passenger seat. "I have an extensive library of  love  poetry
at your disposal, in several languages suitable for the human tongue, as  well
as etiquette, medical information, and--"
     "I don't have time for flirtations," Luke  said,  "or  love  poetry.  Not
right now..."
     Threepio sat back in the passenger seat. At the corner of  Han's  vision,
the droid looked like a shadow. To disguise himself, See-Threepio had  covered
his glossy gold finish with a coat of purple lacquer. Han had not  yet  gotten
used to the change.
     "Don't be so damned dedicated," Han said to Luke. "Don't Jedi Knights get
to have any fun? Little Jedi Knights have to come from somewhere. I'll bet old
Obi-wan--"
     "I don't know what Ben would have done!"
     Luke spoke in a tone of distress, not anger. The  fundamental  loneliness
of the young Jedi struck Han deeply.
     "I don't know what other Jedi Knights did," Luke said softly.  "I  didn't
know Ben long enough, and the Empire destroyed so many records, and... I  just
don't know."
     Han wished Luke could find someone to share his life and his work.  Han's
marriage to Leia grew and strengthened with each year, with each day.  As  his
own years of  happiness  continued,  Han  was  increasingly  troubled  by  his
brother-in-law's solitude.
     "Take it easy, Luke," Han said. "Take it easy. You're doing great--"
     "But the traditions--"
     "So if you have to make them up as you go along, that's not  so  bad,  is
it?" Han asked. "We always were pretty good at bluff+. In the old days."
     "In the old days." Luke sounded glum.
     "And who knows what we'll find when we get where we're going? Maybe  some
more Jedi Knights to help with the school."
     "Maybe," Luke said. "I hope so."
     The Millennium Falcon swept out of hyperspace, diving  through  streamers
of light into normal space.
     The alarms shrieked and the  radiation  shields  snapped  into  existence
around the Falcon.
     Han swore. He had expected a heavy radiation flux in this region--he  had
outfitted the Falcon to withstand it--but nothing as  powerful  as  the  X-ray
storms raging around them.
     When he had checked the ship's systems to make sure  none  were  damaged,
Han took a moment to look outside. He whistled softly in awe.
     A dense, brilliant  starfield  spread  all  around  his  ship.  Two  star
clusters collided: Bands of red giant stars,  like  veins  of  glowing  blood,
meandered through regions of white dwarf stars. The stars clustered so closely
that they formed one huge chaotic system, spinning around each other,  pulling
each other into different dances, one snatching star-stuff from the surface of
another.
     Chaos reigned in the impossible  circle-dance  of  stars;  no  one  could
predict the changes each star's pattern would take--if  anyone  could  find  a
pattern to start with. Soon, measuring by  astronomical  time,  the  cluster's
stars would fly off in all directions. Or  perhaps  the  whole  cluster  would
collapse in upon itself. It would squeeze its mass into the size of a  planet,
a moon, a fist, a pinprick. And then it would vanish.
     "If I may be so bold..." See-Threepio said. "Despite the extra  shielding
I can feel X rays penetrating my outer shell, all the way to  my  synapses.  I
can hardly imagine what  they  might  do  to  your  more  delicate  biological
structure. Crseih Research Station was constructed to withstand this  assault.
Might I suggest that we get beneath  the  spaceport's  shielding  as  soon  as
possible?"
     As if to punctuate See-Threepio's comment, a bright flash of  light  with
no apparent source streaked across Han's vision; he recognized it as a  cosmic
ray traveling across his retina.
     "Good thinking, Threepio," he said.
     He laid a course for the Crseih Research Station.

     Han piloted the Millennium Falcon through the strangest  star  system  he
had ever approached. An ancient, dying, crystallizing white dwarf star orbited
a black hole in a wildly eccentric elliptical path.
     Eons ago, in this place, a small  and  ordinary  yellow  star  peacefully
orbited an immense blue-white supergiant. The blue star aged, and collapsed.
     The blue star went supernova, blasting light and radiation and debris out
into space.
     Its light still  traveled  through  the  universe,  a  furious  explosion
visible from distant galaxies.
     Over time, the remains of the supergiant's core collapsed under the force
of its own gravity. The result was degenerate mass: a black hole.
     The  violence  of  the  supernova  disrupted  the  orbit  of  the  nova's
companion, the yellow star. Over time, the yellow star's orbit decayed.
     The yellow star fell toward the unimaginably  dense  body  of  the  black
hole. The black hole sucked up anything, even  light,  that  came  within  its
grasp. And when it captured matter--even an entire yellow star--it ripped  the
atoms apart into  a  glowing  accretion  disk.  Subatomic  particles  imploded
downward into the singularity's equator, emitting great bursts  of  radiation.
The accretion disk spun at a fantastic speed,  glowing  with  fantastic  heat,
creating a funeral pyre for the destroyed yellow companion.
     The plasma spiraled in a raging pinwheel, circling so fast and heating so
intensely that it blasted X rays out into space. Then,  finally,  the  glowing
gas fell toward the invisible black hole, approaching it  closer  and  closer,
appearing to fall more and more slowly as relativity influenced it.
     It was lost forever to this universe.
     That was the fate of the small yellow star.
     The system contained a third star: the dying  white  dwarf,  which  shone
with ancient heat even as it  froze  into  a  quantum  crystal.  Now,  as  the
Millennium Falcon entered the system, the white dwarf was falling  toward  the
black hole, on the inward curve of its eccentric elliptical orbit.
     "Will you look at that," Han said. "Quite a show."
     "Indeed it is, Master Han," Threepio said, "but it is merely a shadow  of
what will occur when the black hole captures the crystal star."
     Luke gazed silently into the maelstrom of the black hole.
     Han waited.
     "Hey, kid! Snap out of it."
     Luke started. "What?"
     "I don't know where you were, but you weren't here."
     "Just thinking about the Jedi Academy. I hate to leave my students,  even
for a few days. But if I  do  find  other  trained  Jedi,  it'll  make  a  big
difference. To the Academy. To the New Republic..."
     "I think we're getting along pretty well already," Han  said,  irked.  He
had spent years maintaining the peace with ordinary people.  In  his  opinion,
Jedi Knights could cause more trouble than they were worth. "And what if these
are all using the dark side?"
     Luke did not reply.
     Han seldom admitted his nightmares, but  he  had  nightmares  about  what
could happen to his children if they were tempted to the dark side.
     Right now they were safe, with Leia on a planetary  tour  of  remote  and
peaceful worlds of the New Republic. By this time they must have reached Munto
Codru. They would be visiting the beautiful mountains of the world's temperate
zone. Han smiled, imagining his princess and his children  being  welcomed  to
one of Munto Codru's mysterious, ancient, fairy-tale castles.
     Solar prominences flared from  the  white  dwarf's  surface.  The  Falcon
passed it, heading toward the more perilous region of the black hole.
     Han set the shields as high as  they  would  go,  and  sped  through  the
dangerous radiation. The accretion disk blazed wildly,  its  light  harsh  and
actinic.
     Neither white dwarf nor black hole possessed natural planets, only a  few
bits of distant debris and a halo of frozen comets. But the  white  dwarf  did
possess one artificial planetoid.
     Crseih Station had been a secret Empire  research  facility.  During  the
rule of the Emperor, it had moved from covert  place  to  hidden  location  to
secret destination. Wherever it went, it carried with it a reputation of evil.
     Most of the records of its work had been destroyed when the Empire  fell.
Its researchers had fled, to surrender to the New Republic  or  to  disappear.
Han knew only one thing about Crseih for certain. It had  been  sent  to  this
star system to adapt the destructive power of the black hole  to  the  martial
ambitions of the Emperor.
     Crseih had failed, but it still existed, hidden out here on the  edge  of
civilization, isolated by the disruption of the exploding, dying  stars.  Some
inhabitants remained, content to be  free  of  the  Empire.  They  also  lived
outside the New Republic, without the protection of its justice.
     Without the protection, or the restraints.
     Han plunged the Millennium Falcon into the shadow of Crseih  Station.  He
breathed a sigh of relief. Light from the white dwarf  still  illuminated  his
ship, but the station blocked the intense X rays of the black hole.
     Like a patchwork umbrella, powerful shielding covered half the  irregular
artificial planetoid of Crseih Station. As the station had grown, the  patches
had spread. Shielding formed the residence domes, and  the  corridors  of  the
airlinks. Transparent to the visual spectrum, it protected the  equipment  and
the  inhabitants  from  high-energy  radiation.  The  shielding  shimmered  in
patterns of  shadow.  Wherever  a  particularly  intense  burst  of  radiation
assaulted the shielding, it darkened.
     Han set the Millennium Falcon down on a  bare  patch  of  blasted  stone.
Crseih had nothing much in the way of a spaceport. A few itinerant  hyperdrive
mechanics and refuelers. A rental company that specialized in shielding.
     Han made arrangements for an extra shield for the Falcon. A  few  minutes
later, a crawler shuffled toward them, towing the big transparent sheet.
     "Efficient," Luke said.
     "Or bored. Sure isn't much traffic."  He  scowled.  "Wouldn't  you  know?
First vacation I ever get, and I come to a backwater."
     "Threepio, where's your contact?" Luke asked.
     A few dozen other ships of various types and vintages  hunkered  down  on
the blasted rock. Most were shielded. A few had been left naked and exposed in
the cosmic weather, decaying to derelicts.
     "Here to meet us,  I'm  virtually  certain,  Master  Luke."  See-Threepio
peered nervously through the viewport. "Perhaps riding out on the crawler?"
     See-Threepio fidgeted.  A  few  weeks  ago,  Han  had  begun  to  receive
incomprehensible messages. But Threepio recognized the language;  he  said  it
was nearly extinct. The messages passed on rumors of strange events at  Crseih
Station.
     "It is my fault we've set out on this investigation," See-Threepio said.
     Han had charged Threepio with replying to the messages,  using  the  same
obscure language,  andwith  setting  up  a  rendezvous.  Now  Threepio,  being
Threepio, took full responsibility for the entire expedition.
     "I do hope we are not following a hoax," Threepio said.
     "It's all right, Threepio," Han said. "It wouldn't be your fault."
     "But I could hardly survive the embarrassment if the rumors turned out to
be of no account...."
     Han gave up listening to Threepio's worries. Han would be sorry for Luke,
of course, if he failed to find the lost Jedi. But Han was content to be here,
whether the trip turned out to be vacation or adventure.
     He turned his attention to the outpost. The low, oblate airlinks  covered
and protected and connected the districts of the station, some rich  and  well
kept, some collapsing into piles  of  rubble.  Though  the  Empire's  research
facilities had been abandoned, the community that had sprung  up  around  them
had continued. Some of the inhabitants had found other ways to thrive, without
the presence of the Empire or the attention of the New Republic.
     Representatives and ambassadors  concentrated  their  attention  on  more
populous worlds closer to the center of power.
     And that's a relief, Han thought. No  ambassadors,  no  court  dress.  No
formal dinners.
     The crawler hesitated.
     "How will you be wishing to pay for this service?" its operator asked.
     "Letter of resources," Han said.
     "Hard credits only." The crawler started to back away.
     "Wait a minute!" Han shouted. "Do you--" He stopped. He had been about to
say, "Do you know who I am?" But he was traveling  incognito.  Of  course  the
operator did not know who he was.
     The thought gave him a feeling of freedom.
     "The letter of resources must be deposited, Master  Ha--"  See-Threepio's
memory programming cut off the use of Han's real  name  just  in  time.  "Sir.
Otherwise it cannot be drawn upon."
     "I know that." Han grinned. "I guess I just wanted to  flash  it  around.
All those seals and signatures." And a fake identity.
     The crawler headed for the airlinks.
     "Come back here!" Han said. "Cash money."
     "Show your coin."
     Han displayed the rainbow edges of a few bills of New Republic  currency.
He was glad, for old times' sake, for the sake of his smuggling days, that the
Senate had failed to pass a law abandoning physical currency. Smuggling  would
have been a whole lot harder without hard-to-trace cash money. Of course, that
was why the Senate wanted to abandon it.
     The crawler pulled forward again and maneuvered until the shield  covered
the Falcon. It disengaged, and the shield  settled.  The  crawler  nestled  up
beneath the Falcon.
     Han shut down the Falcon and set several security devices, some  of  them
cleverer than others.
     "Let's go," he said. "And remember who we are. I mean, who we aren't."
     Threepio had put on the purple lacquer; Han had grown his beard. But Luke
had done nothing to disguise himself.
     "I don't know, kid," Han said to Luke. "I still think  you  ought  to  do
something. Shave your head, maybe? Otherwise,  somebody's  sure  to  recognize
you."
     Luke gave him a quizzical glance. "I'm not shaving my head. No  one  will
recognize me."
     Han felt dizzy. Luke's features suddenly blurred and reformed. He became,
in Han's eyes,  a  different  individual:  darker  hair,  a  handspan  taller,
thinner, his features ordinary and unmemorable.
     "Dammit!" Han said. "Don't do that to me!"
     The image shivered away, revealing Luke.
     "All right," Luke said. "I  won't  affect  you.  But  no  one  else  will
recognize me."
     "Okay."
     They descended.
     Han wished Chewbacca was with them, but traveling incognito, it had  been
too risky. With his beard, Han could probably escape identification.  A  human
man  and  a  chestnut  Wookiee  traveling  together,  though:  throughout  the
Republic, that image made people think of General Han Solo and his friend, the
Hero of the New Republic, Chewbacca.
     At the bottom of the Millennium Falcon's ramp, the crawler's entryway was
dim. A translucent rod barred Han's path. He pushed it. It moved in his  hand.
He gripped it harder. It shivered and shook and rattled against  the  skin  of
the crawler. Several similar rods, each one segmented, each  joint  a  faceted
bulge, snapped across the doorway in front of him.
     "Hey!" Han yelled.
     "Let go!" the driver said.
     "Let him go," Luke said. "You're holding on to  his  arm.  His  leg.  His
appendage."
     "How do you know?"
     Luke just looked at him.
     Han let go. "I hate it when you do that," he said to Luke.
     "Pay first," the driver said. "Then enter."
     Han peeled off several bills and gave them over to the driver.
     One of the thin, translucent appendages slid across the doorway in  front
of him until its four-clawed end hovered before his face. The  claws  were  as
sharp and blue as steel, and each was as long as his hand.
     "Nice fingernails," Han said. He put the cash into the claws. They closed
gently, without piercing the engraved paper.
     "Thank you," the driver said. "You will pay more."
     "More? Now?" Han exclaimed. "For parking on a chunk of rock?"
     "For parking on a chunk of rock under a rented shield," the driver  said,
"when a new X-ray storm will approach. My rented shield. However, I will  move
it away if you would prefer."
     Han had considered the radiation flux strong enough to qualify as  an  X-
ray storm. On Crseih, though, it was normal  weather.  When  the  white  dwarf
neared the black hole, and the black hole began tearing heated  gas  from  its
surface, the X rays would intensify into a true storm, an X-ray hurricane.
     "An X-ray storm will surely have adverse effects on the  systems  of  the
Mil- - of your ship," See-Threepio said, "if it is left unprotected."
     "I know that," Han said. He pulled off three more bills and  shoved  them
into the driver's claws. He thought, This is going to leave us pretty short of
cash. Never mind, the letter of resources will take care of the problem.
     The claws withdrew. Rustling, the other  legs  parted.  Han's  eyes  were
becoming accustomed to the dim light. The driver sat on the other side of  the
crawler cabin, pulling its legs in around it like a pile of dry sticks.
     "The ride to Crseih," the driver said, "will be free."
     "Thanks so much," Han said. Behind them, the Falcon drew in its ramp  and
locked its hatch.
     See-Threepio peered around the inside of the crawler.
     "You have no other passenger?" he asked.
     "I will only have room to carry you," the driver said.
     Threepio said a few ^ws in a language so  strange  it  hurt  Han's  ears.
Threepio had spoken it to him before,  while  translating  the  messages  from
Crseih Station.
     Threepio thinks this guy might be our contact! Han thought.
     The driver rattled several appendages, including those with aural sensory
hairs, and sharp defensive spines.
     "What will you mean?" the driver said to Threepio. "Why will you irritate
my auditory organs?"
     "I beg your pardon," Threepio said. "I said nothing of any importance.  I
mistook you for someone else."
     The crawler left the starship beneath its shield and  headed  toward  the
city.

     The driver stopped the crawler in its bay. The airlink moved to meet  the
door. Han vaulted down and strode into Crseih Station. Luke  and  See-Threepio
followed.
     The crawler backed out and rumbled away.
     "Spiders," Han said, shuddering. "I'm sorry, but spiders really  give  me
the creeps."
     "Spiders?" See-Threepio said.  "Are  there  spiders?  Where?  I  must  be
careful that they do not spin their webs in my joints. Why,  I  knew  a  droid
once--"
     "I meant the driver," Han said.
     "But the driver was not a spider," See-Threepio said.
     "Metaphorically speaking," Han said.
     "But--"
     "Never mind," Han said. "Forget I said anything."
     "He.was a good businessman," Luke said.
     Han laughed. "Yeah, you're right. He was pretty grabby."
     See-Threepio took a few nervous steps forward and looked around.
     "I'm certain our contact is here somewhere!" he said, despite their being
alone in the entry bay.
     Han glanced at Luke. "Now what? Do you  have  any  idea  where  to  start
looking for your lost Jedi?"
     Luke shook his head. His hair fell across his forehead andfora moment  he
looked like the green kid he had been when Han first met him. But he was not a
green kid  anymore.  Far  from  it.  Over  the  years,  he  had  developed  an
otherworldly presence that Han found both touching and alarming.
     "I expected to be able to  sense--"  Luke  shrugged  unhappily.  "There's
nothing. Maybe they're shielding themselves. Hiding. After the way the  Empire
hunted them down, who can blame them?"
     "You'd think they'd notice," Han said, "that there hasn't been any Empire
for years."
     "But there are plenty of  people  who  want  it  to  return,"  Luke  said
stubbornly.
     "Okay, okay." Han did not believe a group of lost Jedi  existed.  On  the
other hand, the longer Luke searched for them, the longer Han's vacation would
last.
     Maybe I'd better go easy on the teasing, he said to himself.

     Beneath the transparent radiation shields,  the  carnival  light  of  the
burning  whirlpool  turned  gray  and  soft.  Small   shadows   appeared   and
disappeared, dappling the ground.
     Han glanced up. As Crseih Station spun on its axis, the  black  hole  and
its accretion disk created a violent dawn.  The  burning  whirlpool  stretched
across a quarter of the sky. When it set,  its  white  dwarf  companion  would
rise. As the white dwarf plunged toward the center of the star system, it  and
its companion would rise closer and closer to the same time, until  they  rose
together and burned the heavens.
     Han was careful not to look directly at the accretion disk of  the  black
hole, even with the protection of the shields.  In  an  instant,  the  natural
fireworks display expended more energy than all the celebrations conceived  by
civilization since the beginning of history.
     He proceeded through the airlink toward the first  dome  of  the  station
proper. Hot, moist air, tropical and fetid, closed in  around  Han.  He  could
practically see the air, practically open his fingers and grab  a  handful  of
it.
     Most of the folks who live here must be from tropical worlds, he thought.
It's easy to keep a space station cool--
     But not a station like Crseih. Overworked cooling machinery vibrated  the
floor. The shields protected the living space by absorbing  X  rays.  But  the
enormous energy re-radiated as heat, and the heat had  to  go  somewhere.  The
cooling machinery strained to transport it to Crseih's night side,  where  the
heat could be radiated into the vacuum of space. With the black  hole  on  one
side of the station, and the white dwarf on the other, Crseih's night side was
barely a sliver of shadow.
     Han held his palm a finger's width from the surface of the airlink. After
a moment he pulled back. Even with the efforts of the cooling  machinery,  the
surface was uncomfortably hot.
     See-Threepio hurried on ahead, strutting stiffly, strange in his  purple-
lacquer disguise. He continued his futile search for his contact.
     "I  distinctly  told  our  correspondent  to  meet  us,"  Threepio   said
querulously. "I cannot understand--"
     Luke strode past Han--
     He did go by me, didn't he? Han thought. Did I  see  him?  Or  didn't  I?
Damn, I hate it when he does that!
     "Threepio," Luke said, "it would be better not to broadcast our plans."
     "But, Master Luke, I never would--I  assure  you  I  wasn't  engaging  my
transmitter!"
     "Don't engage your vocal unit, either."
     "very well, Master Luke," See-Threepio said, "if that's as you prefer it.
" The droid walked on, body language as expressive as ^ws that he had expected
to be met at the landing field.
     In the humidity and the heat, sweat ran down Han's  back  and  sides  and
beaded on his forehead without evaporating. He wiped his face  and  rolled  up
his sleeves, for once not worrying whether he looked proper.
     Over the years, Leia and his own advisers had made him more aware of  his
clothing. Instead of putting on whatever came to hand out of  his  closet,  in
whatever combination the cleaner droid deposited it, he  had  begun  to  dress
according to his day's duties. Usually he could get  away  without  wearing  a
formal uniform, unless his schedule included addressing or inspecting  regular
troops, or a diplomatic  reception.  Han  Solo  hated  uniforms.  He  was  not
particularly keen on speeches or receptions, either.
     On this trip, he had not even brought a uniform. And  though  his  frayed
pants and comfortable old shirt were too  heavy  for  the  climate  of  Crseih
Station, he felt as if he were expanding with freedom.
     No uniforms, no speeches, no receptions.
     He laughed out loud.
     "This is going to be fun," he said.
     They rounded a curve of the steamy airlink. It stretched on empty  before
them.
     "Where's Threepio?" Luke said.
     "I don't know," Han said. "You probably hurt his feelings by telling  him
to shut up."
     "I just told him to keep our plans to himself."
     "Don't you know where he is?"
     "I could find him," Luke said, "but I'd better not.  I'd  better  not  do
anything long-range. I don't want to give us away."
     "Why not send up a signal flare? Let the Jedi Masters find us."
     "Let's get the lay of the land first," Luke said. "After  all,  we  don't
know much about the people I'm looking for. Only the rumors, and  the  strange
stories--"
     "You're right, kid," Han said. The longer Luke takes, the longer before I
have to put on another uniform. "Absolutely right. Take all the time you want.
"
     "And if they are Jedi--I want to be certain they aren't on the dark side.
"
     "Wouldn't you know it--wdn't you sense it--if someone using the dark side
was near?"
     "Sure I would," Luke said.
     "Good."
     "I think I would." Luke  stared  through  the  translucent  side  of  the
tunnel. In the distance, domes perched on flat rock between craters.  He  said
in a soft voice, "I hope I would."
     Exasperated, Han strode on ahead. "What do I always  say?"  he  muttered.
"They're more trouble than they're worth."
     He burst through the exit of the airlink and entered the  first  dome  of
Crseih Station. Noise and light surrounded him, as thick and exciting  as  the
hot, steamy air.
     Luke followed more cautiously, poised at Han's  right  shoulder,  keeping
watch.
     Han wondered how far Luke could project his illusion of disguise. Did the
inhabitants of the station see him as he really  was,  when  they  were  at  a
distance, and then think they had mistaken what he looked like when  they  got
nearer? Or did his local effect of disguise surround him  like  a  cloak,  and
project his image to anyone who glanced at him?
     Han could not tell, for Luke had kept his promise to  leave  his  partner
unaffected. As far as Han was concerned, the young man  beside  him  was  Luke
Skywalker, pilot, brother-in-law, and, incidentally, Jedi Knight. He wore  his
robes, which fortunately were not much different from  the  everyday  garb  of
many humanoid beings. They did not mark him as Jedi, and they did conceal  his
lightsaber.
     Han stroked his beard, a habit he  had  picked  up  while  it  was  still
growing. Those last few weeks before he and Luke began this trip, he had  been
eager and anxious to be on their way. Stroking his beard surely had  not  made
it grow any faster, but the motion was a talisman, a reminder that in two more
weeks--if he could just get through this review, then in one more week--if  he
could just get through this speech--he would be away and on his own again.
     The enormous first dome of Crseih Station  spread  out  like  a  carnival
around him. Bands and jugglers,  acrobats  and  merchants  demonstrated  their
abilities or displayed their wares.
     A group of Brebishems lay in a heap on the side of  the  path,  wriggling
and rolling together, twisting their long snouts and flapping their wide leaf-
shaped ears. They squeezed so close together that they resembled one organism,
as if their soft wrinkled mauve skins had touched and melded. A low continuous
moan emanated from the group. It was impossible to tell if one or all made the
sound.
     Luke threw a coin into the basket sitting before the Brebishems.
     "What's that for?" Han said.
     "Appreciation for their art."
     "Art?" Han looked at Luke askance, but Luke was perfectly serious.
     "It isn't any stranger than dancing, or bolo-ball."
     "You're entitled to your opinion,"  Han  said.  An  image  came  to  him,
unbidden, of the last time he and Leia had danced. Some  reception  somewhere,
he could not remember when or even what planet the event  had  been  on.  Only
that there had been a few minutes free of diplomacy, toasts, and  salutations,
and he and Leia had held each other close in the mirror-fractured light on the
sparkling dance floor. A sharp pang  of  desire  and  loneliness  touched  his
heart.
     "Please, honors, a small coin left for me?" An individual only as high as
Han's hip plucked at the sleeve of his shirt. A long gray-green pelt concealed
the being's form. "Has it got a coin in its pocketses for me?"
     "No, I don't have any change on me," Han said. He pushed  the  long  thin
fingers, like brittle twigs, away from his pockets.
     "Wait," Luke said. "I have some." He gave the being a coin. His voice was
very gentle when he spoke to the being. The bony fingers  snatched  the  coin,
which vanished somewhere beneath the long coarse fur.
     The being snuffled and went past them, toward the airlink.
     "Other passengers coming?" the being said hopefully.
     "Just us," Han said.
     Several other beggars, guides, and tchochke-sellers converged on Han  and
Luke.
     "They're mine, mine!" the being cried. "Find your own!"
     They all ignored the hairy being's protests.
     "No, thanks, we don't want any," Han said, sidling through the group  and
dragging Luke with him. He imagined Luke passing out all  the  rest  of  their
spare credits before they made it beyond the entryway.
     It did not take them long to escape. The  beggars,  guides,  and  sellers
retreated to their places near the entryway  and  waited  for  more  receptive
customers.
     But the hairy being had followed Han  and  Luke  through  the  crowd.  It
circled them warily, muttering, "Mine, mine."
     "The droid who came in with us," Han said. "Did you see him?"  He  craned
his neck to look across the chaos  of  the  welcome  dome.  In  any  group  of
standard humans, Han Solo could look over the heads of most  of  them.  Within
the mix of sentient life-forms gathered at Crseih, he  was  of  no  more  than
average height. And he had to remind himself that he was looking for a  purple
droid, not a gold one.
     "Droids never have spare change," the hairy  being  said.  "Droids  never
have pocketses. No reason to ask droids."
     "Maybe you could help us," Luke said. "In another way."
     "Help?" the being asked suspiciously. "Work?"
     "Just show. Show us where there's a good lodge. Help us get our  bearings
at Crseih Station."
     "I can find us a lodge," Han said, insulted. "I haven't been out of touch
so long that I can't even find us a lodge!"
     "Shut up!" Luke whispered fiercely.
     Startled, Han stopped his protest.
     "Lodge, yes, lodge," the being said. "And places to eat and places to buy
nice clothes, specialize in human fit." The being loped  off,  its  heavy  fur
bouncing against its sides.
     Luke followed it. Han glanced at the  ceiling  in  supplication.  As  the
ceiling neither replied nor did anything to help, he shrugged and went  along,
muttering, "Damned if I'll take fashion criticism from a guy in a hairy suit."

     The hairy being led Han and Luke through several  airlinks  and  as  many
completely different domes. The noise and excitement of the first  dome  faded
away. They passed into a region of huge machines and warehouses, then  into  a
lush park, where alien vegetation clambered up the  walls  and  moderated  the
whirlpool light with leaves in all the colors of the rainbow.
     "Where are we going?" Han demanded. "There's got to be lodges back in the
carnival dome."
     "Not for you," the hairy being said. "Not good enough for you."
     They traveled farther away from the lights and the noise and the  action,
into quieter  regions.  Gardens  and  low,  organically  engineered  buildings
surrounded them. Instead of being excited by the atmosphere, Han  felt  as  if
the very air were wrapping him in hot, damp blankets.
     "Luke," he said under his breath, "we're never going  to  find  anything,
out here in the middle of nowhere."
     "Be patient," Luke said.
     "Patient! I've been patient! We've been walking half the day."
     Except to grin at Han's exaggeration, Luke  ignored  the  complaints  and
continued on after the hairy being.
     They entered the largest dome so far. The top curved so far overhead that
small clouds floated at the apex, and a breeze circulated the heavy warm  air.
The being led Han and Luke to a  building  that  followed  the  contour  of  a
crater. The front of the building spilled down  to  a  pool  at  the  crater's
floor, and rose to a tower at the crater's rim.  Two  wings  of  the  building
followed the rim of the crater.
     "Here," the hairy being said. "Here is perfect." It  pointed  through  an
irregularly arched opening.
     Han stepped over the threshold into a cool dim room filled with the sound
and scent of running water. He  glanced  back.  Luke  stood  in  the  doorway,
silhouetted by the harsh light. Han started. For a moment he  could  see  both
Obi-wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker, Lord Vader, in Luke's stance.  Luke  came
toward him, gazing around curiously, and the illusion vanished.
     Han returned to the entryway and looked  outside.  The  hairy  being  had
disappeared. He scowled.
     "Why'd you want to follow that guy all the way out here?" he asked  Luke,
who sat on his heels at the edge of the indoor pool, scooped his hand  through
the running water, smelled then briefly tasted it.
     "We needed a native guide."
     "We're supposed to have one," Han pointed out.
     "And he might be useful to us," Luke said.
     "I doubt it," Han said.
     "And... he reminded me of Yoda."
     "You think he might be one of the Jedi?"
     "I thought he might be. Now I don't think so. But he could have been."
     Han started to make a crack about  Luke's  highly  honed  decision-making
abilities, but thought better of it for the  moment.  Luke's  uncharacteristic
lack of composure and self-assurance troubled him.
     "Hey!" he shouted. "Anybody here? Is this a lodge or not?" It occurred to
him that the place might not be a lodge; the hairy being  might  have  brought
them to a business or even a private house as a joke.
     "Yes, human being, I am here."
     An image formed above the pond, flickering, reflecting,  shooting  shards
of light throughout the irregular room. Han could  not  make  out  a  definite
shape amid the hypnotic aurora.
     "We want three rooms," Han said. "Two for humans, one fitted for a droid.
"
     "For what duration?" The musical voice took on color, like the image.
     "We'll be here indefinitely."
     "Payment two standard days in advance, if you please."

     Han slammed the door as he entered his room. The lodge now possessed  all
but the very last of his ready cash.
     Not that the room wasn't worth it. It was luxurious, with everything from
instant-delivery high cuisine  in  the  alcove  to  a  patio  overlooking  the
spectacular crater lake far below. Nevertheless, if he could not negotiate the
letter of resources, he and Luke would be on a dangerously short rein.
     He had a bad feeling about the letter of resources.  Crseih  Station  was
too far off the spaceways; it had been left too far outside the embrace of the
New Republic. The rights and privileges and services he took for  granted  did
not exist here.
     Crseih was the kind of place he had known inside out,  before  he  became
General Han Solo. The kind of place where he could land the Falcon, walk  into
any establishment, and blend in or stand out, as he chose. He wondered  if  he
still had that ability.
     You've gotten too soft, he said to himself. Too complacent,  too  secure.
It's time to make some changes.
     And time to repair our finances.
     He knew Luke would disapprove of his plan.
     As Han grabbed his jacket and left, Luke knocked on the  connecting  door
between their rooms. Instead of answering, Han left by the front door,  closed
it softly, and hurried away down the corridor.

     The letter of resources was a worthless piece of trash in  Han's  pocket.
His immediate impulse was to rip it to shreds and throw it  into  the  nearest
crater. But that would be stupid as well as impossible. It was printed not  on
paper, but on a practically indestructible  sheet  of  archival  plastic.  The
edges would cut his skin before they would tear.
     As far as he could make out, no one in Crseih Station was the  least  bit
interested in honoring a letter of resources drawn on the assets  of  the  New
Republic. One entrepreneur had negotiated to buy it. Han would have had to  be
a lot more desperate to consummate the  deal;  the  offering  price  had  been
ridiculous. It would have been a fine bargain for the entrepreneur, for it was
negotiable by the bearer. Negotiable almost anywhere but here.
     "Hell with it," he muttered.
     "Have you a spare--"
     "No!" he said without looking around. "No spare change!"
     his--minute, sir?" The ghostling placed  herself  in  front  of  him,  as
delicate as a reed in a spring pond. "I want nothing from you but a moment  of
your time."
     "Sure," he said, "I have a minute." Ghostlings had always mesmerized him.
They looked like humans, but were not. Their ethereal beauty tantalized humans
and they in their turn were fascinated by human beings. They were as seductive
as incubuses and succubuses, but as fragile as spiderwebs. For a human  and  a
ghostling to enter into a physical relationship  meant  certain  death  for  a
ghostling.
     But there's no harm in looking, Han said to himself.
     The ghostling smiled. Her long fine green-gold  hair  spread  around  her
head like a halo, and her wide black eyes searched his gaze. She  touched  his
hand with her delicate fingertips. Her gilt-tan skin  glowed  and  her  golden
fingernails dimpled his skin. Han shivered.
     "What do you want?" he asked, his tone harsh.
     The ghostling smiled. "Nothing. I want to give you something.  The  route
to happiness--"
     "To your death!" Han exclaimed.
     "No," she said. "No, I'm not like that, not one of them. I used to--" She
broke their gaze and looked at the street, at bits  of  trash  that  skittered
past her bare feet.
     She stood on tiptoe. Her feet had never evolved to stand flat.  Her  feet
and legs were more like those of a faun than a human being.
     "I used to plague humans," the ghostling said.  "I  was  fascinated  with
your kind. I followed, I teased--y are so exciting! -  -  and  I  thought,  It
might be worth it just to partake of a human, even as the last  experience  of
my life." She smiled again, her expression beatific. "But I saw the  error  of
my ways, of my thoughts, and I've dedicated myself to helping others  see  the
truth! The truth that we are all the same, that we may commune in  joy  if  we
give ourselves to Waru!"
     Han laughed out loud. The ghostling sprang back, at  first  startled  and
frightened, then distressed.
     "Sir? I've said something to amuse you?"
     "Something to surprise me," Han said. He  gestured  around  him,  at  the
dome, the taverns and lights,  the  establishments  at  which  one  could  get
anything  one  wished,  if  one  had  the  price.  "I  didn't  expect  to   be
proselytized--not here."
     The ghostling smiled again, and moved close. "But where better? Come with
me, I'll show you. We're the same. Waru will give us joy."
     "Thanks," Han said. "But, no. Thanks."
     "Perhaps some other time," the ghostling said, her voice a soft  promise.
She tiptoed away, waved over her shoulder, and vanished into the crowd.
     Han chuckled and strolled into the nearest tavern. He  forgot  about  his
encounter with the ghostling, as he had forgotten about every other  encounter
with a ghostling. It was pointless to remember them, pointless to dwell on the
impossibilities.
     The tavern was hot and dark and smoky; intoxicant incense tinged the  air
and mixed with the pungent scent of wine. Han sat at the bar and  relaxed.  He
could identify the homeworlds of about half the customers in  the  place;  the
other half were unfamiliar to him.
     Borderland, he thought. A real borderland.
     He smiled to himself, then laughed again.
     It had been too long since he had crossed a border.
     "Two-element minimum."
     Han turned to the bar. No one was there. He looked up, then  down;  still
nothing.
     A slender tentacle tweaked his cuff.
     "Two-element minimum."
     All along the bar, the slender tentacles waved or waited or curved around
mugs or wineglasses or flagons. Han rose to look over the edge of the bar, but
the slender tentacle stretched before his face and motioned him back.
     "If you wish to imbibe, you are in the right place."  The  voice  sounded
like a falling stack of steel rods. "If you wish to  indulge  your  curiosity,
may I suggest the museum in the next dome?"
     "Sorry," Han said, offended.
     "No offense taken. Two-element minimum." The tentacle was poised to serve
him.
     Han subsided onto his barstool. "Then give me  two  elements,"  he  said.
"How about polonium and plumbum?"
     "I serve neither here," the voice said.
     "Two glasses of the local ale will do," Han said.
     "A fine choice for a brave individual." The tentacle snapped out of sight
behind the bar.
     Han searched his memory for a shy species with  many  tentacles,  but  he
came up with no one who would suit. He leaned against the bar,  content.  When
he returned home was plenty of time to research the species he had never  met,
and perhaps to start an expedition to invite them to join the New Republic.
     He scouted out the tavern. This was not a family establishment. The light
was low, the intoxicant smoke thick, and small groups of people  leaned  close
together over heavy tables and the occasional meeting pond. Han could hear the
low tones of many conversations, none loud enough to make out.
     Two glasses of ale thumped on the bar behind him;  the  serving  tentacle
vanished before Han turned around. Ale sloshed over the lips of the  tankards,
splashing on the dented wood.
     Han took a gulp  of  ale,  expecting  watery  swill  or  throat-stripping
solvent. Instead, the soft strong ale traced its flavor across his tongue.  He
swallowed. The ale glowed pleasantly in his stomach.  He  finished  the  first
tankard and started in on the second, still checking out the patterns  of  the
tavern.
     A damp tapping drew his attention. The slender tentacle patted  the  bar,
gently at first, then more  insistently,  till  one  of  the  suckers  on  the
tentacle fastened to the bar and released, over and over, with a loud wet pop.
     "Careful, you're going to get tangled," Han said.  He  laughed.  The  ale
warmed him with an agreeable buzz. He could hear the conversations better;  he
could almost make out the ^ws. He took another gulp of ale.
     "You have already proven your bravery, sir human,"  the  barkeep's  voice
said. "No need to push your luck by failing your obligations."
     "My what?" Han said.
     "Your obligations! You occupy my space, you ingest my comestibles--"
     Han chuckled. "This isn't your native language, is it?"
     "Certainly not," the barkeep said in a highly insulted tone.
     "It works better if you speak plainly."
     "Pay!"
     "That's plain enough," Han said. He took  a  coin  from  his  pocket  and
tossed it on  the  bar.  The  tentacle  coiled  over  it,  placed  one  sucker
delicately on its surface, and lifted the  coin.  The  tentacle  snapped  away
behind the bar, and when it reappeared, the coin had vanished.
     "What do you folks do for entertainment around here?" Han asked.
     "We are doing it." The tentacle waved its tip toward each corner  of  the
room, each table, each meeting pond. "Do you require additional entertainment?
"
     "I don't mind a game now and then."
     "Bolo-ball? There is a league."
     "I was thinking of something more sedentary... and riskier."
     The tentacle twisted into a knotted shape, rising  over  Han's  shoulder,
pointing. Han turned around, and ran nose-fst into the chest of a giant.
     Han looked up. An enhanced human grinned merrily down at him.
     "A sporting man?" The enhanced  human,  her  size  increased  by  genetic
manipulation and her strength increased by surgery, was  a  head  taller  than
Chewbacca.
     "I've been known to place a bet from time to time."
     "Will this suit your fancy?" She opened her hand. In her wide palm lay  a
deck of cards. A design of complex knots  decorated  the  back.  The  enhanced
human  moved  her  hand,  and  the  deck  flipped  over.  Chance  and  Hazard,
illuminated with gold and emerald paint, topped the stack.
     Han grinned. "That will do fine," he said. "Just fine."

     Chapter
     3

     Anakin wriggled furiously in Jaina's arms, trying to get down.
     "Bad mens, Jayaffwas he said. "Bad mens!"
     "Stop wiggling, Anakin," Jaina said. She hugged her little  brother,  but
that just made him struggle even more. His  face  was  streaked  with  furious
tears. He had stopped crying, but he was still so angry and  scared  that  his
whole body trembled.
     "Papa!" he shouted. "Papa! I want Papaffwas He started to cry again.
     Jaina was scared, too, and confused. She pretended not to be.
     They were on a perfectly circular patch of  Munto  Codru  feather  grass.
Jacen and Mr. Chamberlain's black-furred wyrwulf slept  on  the  grass  beside
Jaina. Jaina wanted to wake Jacen up. But she had just woken up. Waking up had
hurt. It never hurt to wake up before. Never before in her whole life.
     The patch of grass was not part of the meadow anymore. It was  in  a  big
metal room. It sat in the middle of the metal floor, as if someone had cut  it
out with a big round cookie-cutter. Metal walls  rose  very  high  above,  all
around. Jaina could not see any doors. She could  not  see  any  windows.  Big
lights glared down at her from the ceiling.
     "Don't cry, Anakin," Jaina said. "Don't cry. I'll take care of  you.  I'm
five, so I'll take care of you, because you're only three."
     "Three and a half!" he said.
     "Three and a half," she said.
     He sniffled and rubbed his sticky face. "Want Papa," he said.
     Jaina wished Papa was here, too. And Mama. And Winter.  And  Chewie.  But
she did not say so. She had to be the adult. She was oldest.  She  was  almost
already getting her grown-up teeth. Her right front tooth  was  really  loose.
She wiggled it with her tongue while she thought what to do.
     She was two years older than Anakin. Okay, one and a  half  years  older.
She was only five minutes older than Jacen. They were twins, even though  they
did not look exactly alike. Her  hair  was  light  brown  and  very  straight.
Jacen's was dark and curly. But she was still oldest.
     "Down!" Anakin demanded. "Jaya, down!"
     "I'll let you down," Jaina said, "if you promise to stay on the grass."
     Anakin stuck out his lower lip. His dark  eyes  sparkled  with  tears  of
frustration and anger. He was always stubborn when  anyone  said  no  to  him.
About anything.
     "Promise?" Jaina said.
     "Stay on the grass," he said.
     She let him down. He dashed across the grass. He peered  over  the  edge.
Jaina took her gaze off him for a second. She crouched  down  next  to  Jacen,
wishing he would wake up. The wyrwulf twitched and moaned.
     Jaina looked around for Anakin. He was sticking his foot over the edge of
the grass. Jaina ran after him and pulled him back.
     "I said stay on the grass!"
     "Am on the grass," he insisted. He pointed  toward  the  floor.  "Just  a
floor, Jaya. No krakana!"
     The last place they had been, on Mama's tour, they had not  been  allowed
to swim in the ocean. Mon Calamari was mostly ocean, and its ocean was full of
krakana. Krakana would eat anything, even children. Especially children.
     Now, every time anybody told Anakin "no," he would argue by  saying,  "No
krakana!"
     Jaina did not want to scare him. She did not know if there  was  anything
to be scared of yet. She wished she knew how they had gotten  here.  Something
bad must have happened, but maybe getting taken away like this  was  how  they
got rescued.
     She wished Mama and Papa and Uncle Luke and Winter  and  Chewie  and  Mr.
Threepio were here. Or even just one of them.
     Jacen whimpered. Jaina grabbed Anakin's hand and pulled  him  across  the
little patch of grass to her twin's side.
     "Hold Jasa's hand," Jaina said. Anakin grabbed Jacen's hand in  both  his
little fists. Jaina took Jacen's other hand.
     "Jasa, Jasa, wake up," Anakin said. "Sleepybones!"
     Jacen opened his eyes. "Ouch!" he said, just as Jaina said,  "Ouch!"  She
could feel what he felt. He could feel what she felt. Jaina's head hurt,  like
somebody was screaming in her ear.
     Their eyes were filled  with  tears.  Jaina's  lower  lip  trembled.  She
pressed her lips together to keep from crying. Her front tooth wiggled.
     She made the scream and the hurt go away. From her and from Jacen, before
he was all awake.
     She was not supposed to use her Jedi abilities unless Uncle Luke was with
them. Jacen was not supposed to. Anakin especially was not supposed to.  Uncle
Luke was teaching them what to do. How to do it right.
     But sometimes it was hard not to do something. Like now.
     Jacen sat up. Bits of grass stuck to his homespun shirt. Some were  stuck
in his curly dark brown hair. Jaina brushed her hands against  her  own  hair,
but she did not find any grass blades. Her light brown hair was very straight,
so hardly anything ever got tangled in it. Jacen roughed his  fingers  through
his hair, leaving it rumpled as usual. The grass fell out.
     "Okay now?" she said.
     "Okay now," Jacen said. He looked around. "Where are we?"
     "Remember what happened?"
     "We were playing with Chewie--"
     his--and he jumped up--"
     his--and then he fell down--"
     his--and then I went to sleep."
     "Me too."
     "Skiff!" Anakin said. "Jaya forgot the skiff!"
     "What skiff?"
     "I saw it!" Anakin insisted.
     "This isn't a skiff!" Jacen said.
     He was right. The room they were in could hold a whole skiff.
     "Maybe the skiff brought us here."
     "Where?" Jacen said.
     Jaina shrugged. They might be on a spaceship. They might be  in  a  great
big building. They might even still be on Munto Codru, underground. Jaina  and
Jacen had explored under the castle.  They  had  found  halls  and  caves  and
tunnels. But they had never found any place that looked like this.
     "Are you okay, wyrwulf?" Jacen bent over Mr.  Chamberlain's  wyrwulf  and
stroked its fur. The black undercoat shone beneath the rougher,  duller  black
guard hairs. The  wyrwulf's  eyelids  flickered.  It  whimpered  and  sat  up,
panting.
     "Good woof," Anakin said.
     Jacen looked around. "Maybe Chewie is here someplace,  maybe  he's  still
asleep too." He jumped to his feet and walked right off the edge of the grass.
     Nothing happened.
     "See, Jaya?" Anakin said, pleased with  himself.  "No  krakana!"  He  ran
after Jacen. The wyrwulf trotted after them.
     Jaina took one step after Jacen and Anakin. She  stopped.  She  was  sure
that if they stayed on the grass, nothing could hurt them.  But  she  did  not
want her brothers to go off alone. She was the oldest, after all.
     She ran back to the center of the safe  patch.  She  stooped  and  pushed
aside fronds of feather grass. She was looking for her multitool. She knew  it
was here. She had brought it to the field to look at things with. When  Chewie
fell down, she had jumped up. Then  she  had  fallen  asleep.  She  must  have
dropped it.
     There!
     Jaina snatched up the tool. She shoved it deep into her pocket to keep it
hidden. With her multitool she would be safe.
     She ran after her brothers.
     Her feet clanged on the metal floor. She  caught  up  to  Jacen.  He  was
looking at the wall. Anakin did not bother to look. He kicked it.
     "Bad wall!"
     "Don't do that, you'll hurt yourself," Jacen said.
     Anakin glowered and bumped the toe of his  shoe  against  the  wall.  Not
kicking. Not kicking for real.
     "There's got to be a door," Jacen said reasonably. "For us to come in."
     "Maybe there's a trapdoor," Jaina said. "A secret door." She  rapped  her
knuckles against the metal. The knock was very solid. She looked  up.  "Here's
the support," she said.
     Jacen, too, looked up at the ceiling.  Narrow  metal  beams  curved  over
them. The lights hung from the beams.
     "We have to look for a door between the beams," Jaina  said.  She  walked
around the room, knocking on the wall. She found some hollow  spots.  But  she
could not find a door. She took out her multitool. She opened the drill part.
     "You aren't supposed to do that," Jacen said.
     "I didn't!" Jaina said. But she touched the drill part to the  wall.  She
was only supposed to use it on something she was making in the  workshop.  Not
on walls or floors or furniture. Anyway it would not work on  metal,  only  on
wood.
     She tried anyway, wiggling her front tooth  with  her  tongue  while  she
concentrated. But the drill would not do anything. It hid itself  back  inside
the handle.
     When Jaina was seven she could have a multitool that worked on metal.  If
she was good. If she was responsible.
     She wished she was seven. Seven was a long time away.
     She opened the lens part instead. She used it to  look  at  the  wall  as
close as she could. She thought she found a seam. A crack?
     A door opened.
     Jaina jumped back. She grabbed Anakin's hand and pushed him  behind  her.
At the same time she shoved her multitool back into her pocket.
     She and Jacen stood side by side, defending their little brother.
     The wyrwulf crouched and growled.
     Anakin wailed and tried to burrow his way between Jaina and Jacen, to see
what was happening.
     A tall and very beautiful man walked out. He had gold - and copper -  and
cinnamon-colored striped hair, very pale skin, and very big  black  eyes.  His
face was sharp and thin, all corners. He wore a long white robe.
     He smiled down at Jaina.
     "You poor children," he said.
     He knelt in front of them.
     "My poor children! I'm so sorry. Come to me, I'll keep you safe from  now
on."
     "I want Papaffwas Anakin shouted. "Mama!"
     "I'm very sorry, sir," Jaina said with her best court manners. "We  can't
go to you."
     "We aren't allowed," Jacen explained. "We don't know you."
     "Ah, children, don't you remember me? No, how could you,  you  were  only
just born. I'm your hold-father Hethrirffwas
     Jaina stared at him, uncertain. She had never heard  of  any  Hold-father
Hethrir. But she and Jacen had lots of hold-fathers and  hold-mothers.  Anakin
had lots of hold-fathers and hold-mothers.
     "Candy?" Anakin asked hopefully.
     The beautiful man smiled. "Of course. As soon as we get you cleaned up."
     Their hold-parents always brought them toys, and  treats  that  were  not
often allowed otherwise.
     "Do you know the pass^w?" Jaina asked. Mama had told her never to go with
anyone who did not know the pass^w.
     Hold-father Hethrir sat crosslegged on the floor in front of them.
     The wyrwulf flopped to the deck, leaning  its  head  on  its  fangs,  and
stared at Hold-father Hethrir.
     "Children," Hethrir said, "a terrible thing has happened. I came to visit
you, to see my sweet friend Leia and my old comrade Han. To  meet  your  Uncle
Luke. But when I came, I saw a horrible thing! An earthquake!" He  cocked  his
head at Jaina. "Do you know what an earthquake is?"
     Uneasily, Jaina nodded.
     "I'm sorry, children. The castle--it was so old! It fell down, and..."
     He stopped, and took a deep breath. Jaina's lower lip started  to  quiver
again. Her eyes got all blurry. She blinked. She did not  want  to  hear  what
Hold-father Hethrir had to say.
     "Your mama was in the castle. And your papa, and  your  Uncle  Luke.  You
were in the meadow--d you remember? - - andthe ground opened up and  swallowed
friend Chewbacca, and you were about to slide down into the horrible crack  in
the earth, but I was right there and I swooped down and I  saved  you.  But  I
couldn't save friend Chewbacca, and..." He glanced down, and wiped a tear from
his cheek, and looked up again. "I'm so sorry, children, we could  not  rescue
your mama or your papa or your uncle."
     Anakin started to wail. "Papa! Mama! Uncle Lukeffwas
     Jaina clutched his hand and pulled him close. "Don't cry," she whispered.
Anakin stopped wailing, but he still sniffled and sobbed.
     "But Papa and Uncle Luke--" Jacen's voice was trembly, but suspicious.
     Jaina nudged him. He shut up.
     "None of that, now." Hold-father Hethrir smiled.
     Somehow, he knew what she had done. And it made him angry, though he  was
smiling. Scared, Jaina pulled back inside herself. She pretended she had never
touched Jacen with her mind.
     "If I had landed, if the earthquake had not happened, your mama and  papa
would have introduced you to me. They would have told me your pass^w. We would
have had a party, and we would have been friends!"
     He stretched both his hands toward Jaina and Jacen.
     "Your dear family is gone, my children. The Republic  asked  me  to  take
you, to keep you, to protect you and teach you. I am  so  sorry...  that  your
mama and papa are dead."
     Jaina huddled together with her brothers. How could it be true?  But  why
would anyone lie about it?
     "We--we're supposed to go with Winter," Jaina said. Her  voice  trembled.
"If anything hap--"
     "Winter? Who is Winter?"
     "She's our nanny," Jaina said.
     "She went on a trip," Jacen said.
     "Are you keeping us till she comes home?"
     "Can we call her?" Jacen said hopefully.
     "She'd come right back," Jaina said.
     "Her  services  are  no  longer  necessary,"  Hold-father  Hethrir  said.
"Children, children! You are  important!  Your  abilities  are  precious!  You
cannot be raised, you cannot be taught, by a servant."
     "She isn't! She's our friend!"
     "She has her own life to live, she cannot raise you properly with no  one
to pay for you."
     "We wouldn't eat much," Jacen said hopefully.
     Jaina wanted to say Hold-father Hethrir was a liar! - - and run away. But
she had nowhere to run. And maybe Papa and Uncle Luke had come home, while she
and her brothers were in the meadow, and maybe the earthquake had come  before
Papa came out to greet them, and maybe Hold-father Hethrir really had  rescued
them.
     And maybe Winter really wouldn't come back. Not ever.
     Or maybe Hold-father Hethrir did not know that Papa and  Uncle  Luke  and
Mr. Threepio had gone on a secret mission. No one was supposed to  know  about
the secret mission, except Chewbacca and Mama--but Jaina did! And she had told
Jacen, of course, because he was her twin. Maybe no one could tell Hold-father
Hethrir because then Papa and Uncle Luke would be in danger. That  meant  Papa
and Uncle Luke might be all right. But she could not say so, because then  she
would put Papa and Uncle Luke in danger.
     Anakin huddled against her, sniffling. He was trying not to cry, but  his
tears left a cold wet spot on her shirt. Mr. Chamberlain's wyrwulf  had  edged
closer to Jaina, too, and leaned unhappily against her side.
     Or maybe, Jaina thought, Hold-father Hethrir isn't who  he  says  he  is.
Maybe he's making it all up, about the earthquake.
     Maybe he stole us.
     Maybe Mama and Papa and Uncle Luke and Chewbacca are all right.
     Jaina looked at Hold-father Hethrir. His  huge  dark  eyes  gleamed  with
tears. He gazed at her, his hands outstretched.
     A second set of eyelids swept across his eyes. Jaina  could  see  through
the second eyelids. They looked like smoke. They pushed away the  tears.  Then
they disappeared again.
     Without meaning to, without wanting to, Jaina started to cry.
     Don't cry, she said furiously to herself. Don't cry. If you don't cry  it
means Mama is alive!
     She made herself stop crying.
     "Jacen," Jaina said, "y have to  say  whether  we  believe  him.  Because
you're the oldest."
     "I'm oldest," Jacen said. "I'm oldest, Hold-father Hethrirffwas
     "I remember," Hold-father Hethrir said. "I remember when  you  both  were
born, your mama and papa were so happy, they said to me, "Here is  Jacen,  our
fstborn son, and here is Jaina, our beautiful daughter."'"
     He's a liar! Jaina thought. A liar!
     "We believe you, Hold-father Hethrir," Jacen said.
     For just a second, Jaina thought maybe Jacen really meant  it.  But  then
she thought, No, that's stupid. She was afraid to touch him  for  reassurance,
because Hold-father Hethrir would know.
     She started to cry again.
     It's all right to cry now, she  thought.  Because  I'm  just  pretending,
because I have to, and Mama and Papa and Uncle  Luke  and  Chewbacca  are  all
alive!
     She and Jacen and Anakin huddled together, all  of  them  crying,  Anakin
wailing, "Papa! Papaffwas
     Hold-father Hethrir took Jaina's hand. He took Jacen's hand. He  squeezed
gently. His skin was very cold. He pulled on Jaina's hand.  She  had  to  move
nearer to him. She wanted to move away from him.
     I don't believe he's really my hold-father! Jaina thought. I'm not  going
to call him that anymore.
     Hethrir put his arms around her and her brothers. Jaina shivered.
     "Poor children," he said. "Poor little children. I'm so sorry  your  mama
and papa are dead."
     Anakin cried harder.
     Jaina and Jacen cuddled him. He sniffled. He started to hiccup.  He  fell
asleep with his cheek pillowed on Jaina's shoulder. He hiccupped again.
     "There, there, poor children," Hethrir said. "You've had such a hard day.
Come along, it's time for bed."
     Jaina stood up. She picked up Anakin. He was heavy.
     "We always have our supper before we go to bed," she said.
     Hethrir stood up. He was very tall. He smiled down at her.
     "But you live with me now," he said. "And at my house, it's time for bed.
"
     He urged them toward the doorway. Jaina saw another  person  standing  in
the darkness. Scared, she stopped.
     "Come forward, Tigris," Hethrir said. "Don't stand there  hiding  in  the
shadows."
     Tigris took a step forward. He was not scary at  all.  He  was  not  even
grown up, only twelve or thirteen. He wore a brown robe. Jaina thought it  was
ugly. It needed to be washed, and the hem had come down.
     He had striped hair like Hethrir's, but his  was  silver  and  black.  It
needed to be washed, too. And combed. Her mama would never let her go  outside
looking like that. He had pale skin and big black eyes, also like Hethrir's.
     "Don't make our new sister carry the child,"  Hethrir  said.  "Show  your
manners."
     Are they brothers? Jaina wondered. How could they be, Hethrir is so  old.
And Hethrir doesn't act like Tigris's brother. I'd never  talk  to  Anakin  in
such a mean way.
     Tigris tried to take Anakin from Jaina. She stepped back. Jacen jumped in
front of her to help protect their little brother. Together, they created  the
barrier Uncle Luke had taught them to make.  No  one  would  be  able  to  get
through it. They would not let Tigris take Anakin!
     The barrier shimmered around Jaina.
     And then it fell apart like a sand castle in the tide.
     "Now, now," Hethrir said. "None of that! Didn't your uncle ever tell  you
not to behave like that? You're being very, very bad."
     He knelt down in front of them again.
     "I'll teach you to use your abilities. The same as your Uncle  Luke.  But
you must only use them under my supervision, until you're grown up."
     Jaina hugged Anakin tighter.
     "Do you understand?"
     Jaina knew what was going to happen. She knew she could not stop it.
     "Do you understand?" Hethrir demanded.
     Jacen had backed up right against Anakin.  Their  brother  was  protected
between them. The wyrwulf growled.
     Suddenly the wyrwulf slid across the deck and crashed against  the  wall.
Jaina cried out. The wyrwulf yelped and lay still.
     "Woof!" Anakin cried.
     Hethrir took Jacen's shoulders and pulled him forward, away from  Anakin.
He pulled him aside. He did not even bother  to  move  Jacen  with  the  Force
powers he had revealed. He did not need to. He was a grown-up. Jacen tried  to
wriggle free, but Hethrir would not let him go.
     "Do you understand?"
     Tigris took Anakin from Jaina's arms. His  eyes  were  sad  and  hopeful.
Jaina could not stop him. She could not move. She could not extend her mind to
her brother's. She did not know what Jacen was thinking.  He  looked  back  at
her, scared. She did know one thing. He did not know  what  she  was  thinking
either.
     "Jacen!" she said. "Anakin!" She could talk! But  she  did  not  talk  to
Hethrir.
     "I see that you understand," Hethrir said.
     He grabbed Jaina's hand and Jacen's hand. He pulled them along after him.
     "What about Mr. Chamberlain's wyrwulf?" Jacen shouted.
     "You're too old to keep a pet," Hethrir said.
     The door closed. Behind them, the wyrwulf howled.
     Hethrir was so tall and he walked so fast that Jaina had to run  to  keep
up. Tigris strode along after them.
     Jaina could hardly see anything. She tripped. Hethrir jerked her  to  her
feet and kept going.
     "Stop!" Jaina shouted. "Stop! No! Helpffwas She screamed.
     "Help!" Jacen shouted along with her. "Help, leave us alone!"
     "Jaya, Jasaffwas Anakin cried.
     Jaina dragged back on Hethrir's hand. She  struggled  to  look  over  her
shoulder. Anakin wriggled to escape Tigris's arms. Tigris  held  him  tighter.
Tight enough to hurt. Anakin's dark eyes were bright with tears.
     "You leave my brother alone!" Jacen shouted. He too fought  to  get  away
from Hethrir.
     Anakin pushed at Tigris.
     Tigris yelped with pain. He nearly dropped Anakin. He held on to him till
Anakin's feet touched the ground. Then Tigris grabbed his own hands  together.
He shook them and rubbed them against his grubby robe.
     Hethrir stopped. He dropped Jaina's hand, and Jacen's.
     Jaina ran to Anakin. She hugged her little brother. He  burrowed  against
her shoulder. Jacen knelt on the floor beside them, hugging them  both.  Jaina
knew his determined look.
     Hethrir loomed over them. He looked angry. He stared, intent, at Anakin.
     Then he smiled.
     He crouched beside them. He stared hard at Anakin.
     "As I hoped," he said softly. "As I expected, from the Skywalker line."
     He reached past Jaina and stroked Anakin's hair. The tangles smoothed out
under Hethrir's touch. Suddenly he grabbed a lock of Anakin's hair and  yanked
it hard. Anakin screamed in surprise and pain and outrage. Furious, Jaina  bit
Hethrir, right through his robe. Jacen pummeled Hethrir's arm  with  both  his
fists.
     Hethrir did not even flinch. And Jaina had bitten him hard.
     Anakin's abilities erupted around them all. The dark hallway lighted  up.
Light shone through Hethrir's fingers. Jaina  gasped.  Hethrir's  hand  looked
like a skeleton's.
     Anakin's light went out.
     Jaina felt as if a wet cold blanket had fallen around her.
     Tigris pulled Jaina and Jacen away from Hethrir. Jaina's loose tooth fell
out and stuck to Hethrir's sleeve. Jaina was so surprised she stopped  biting.
Anakin stared at Hethrir, his eyes wide.
     "Be quiet!" Hethrir said softly before Anakin could say a  single  thing.
Hethrir's voice was scary.
     Jacen grabbed Jaina's hand. She could hardly feel his fingers.
     Staring up at Hethrir, scared,  really  scared,  Anakin  shivered.  Jaina
tried to go to him, she was responsible, she was oldest. But Tigris  took  her
by the shoulder and stopped her.
     "Do what you're told," he said. "Then nobody will hurt you,  nobody  will
hurt your brothers."
     No one had ever treated her this way before. Jaina could  not  understand
why anyone was treating her this way now.
     Uncle Luke could affect her abilities, and Jacen's, and even Anakin's.  A
good thing, too! Anakin was too little to always know what he was  doing.  But
Uncle Luke never made Anakin's light go away. He  never  smothered  Jaina  and
Jacen with a horrible wet cold blanket that Jaina could not even see, or grab,
or pull off and throw on the floor. Uncle Luke helped guide her  abilities  so
she used them properly and learned more about them. Sometimes he even added to
her power to help her, to show her how to do what she was trying to do.
     Not like this!
     "Take these two to their rooms," Hethrir said to Tigris. "Then return  to
me."
     "I will obey, Hethrir," Tigris said. His voice was full of admiration.
     "I want my tooth," Jaina said.
     Hethrir shook his sleeve. Her tooth fell on the ground. Tigris would  not
let her go get it.
     Hethrir picked Anakin up. Jaina's little brother did not resist. He could
not resist.
     "Please let him stay with us," Jaina said. "He's only three--"
     She stopped for a second. Anakin would say, "Three and a  half!"  But  he
said nothing.
     "We'll all be good if you let him stay with us," Jaina said desperately.
     Hethrir gazed down at her. Now she knew the kindly look in his  eyes  was
all a lie, and so was everything else he had said.
     "If you're good," he said, "I might let you visit with your brother. In a
few days. Or a week."
     He turned, his long white robe swirling at his heels, and carried  Anakin
into the darkness. The last thing Jaina saw of  her  little  brother  was  his
wide, scared eyes.
     Tigris pushed Jaina and Jacen along the hallway, then around a turn.  The
wet cold blanket of Hethrir's power still surrounded Jaina.
     "It's freezing," she whispered.
     "Nonsense, it's perfectly warm," Tigris said.
     Jaina felt hurt and embarrassed,  scared  and  mad.  Even  when  she  was
little, no one had ever treated her like this. She always  tried  to  use  her
abilities properly. To be responsible. As soon as she had understood what  the
^w meant, she had known it would be important in her life.
     She wished she had Mama to talk to. She was never, never,  never  allowed
to use her abilities to hurt someone. But what about if she had to, what if it
was to keep somebody from hurting her or Jacen, what if it was to  defend  her
little brother? She was as responsible for Anakin as she was for the right use
of what she could do.
     She was supposed to use the barrier for defense.  But  she  already  knew
that would not work.
     Hethrir can stop the barrier, Jaina thought. He wouldn't do that,  if  he
was really our hold-father. I don't believe he knows Papa and I don't  believe
he's friends with Mama.
     Finally she thought--the thought was like the sun coming up, here in this
dark hallway--And I don't believe Mama and Papa and Uncle Luke are dead!
     This time she really believed it.
     She tried to catch Jacen's eye, to see if he  knew  Mama  and  Papa  were
alive.
     She turned her head to look at Jacen. Tigris put his hand on the side  of
her face--his hand was warm, and he was not mean, but his purpose was  clear--
and made her look forward again.
     "Here we walk straight and tall," he said. "With our eyes straight ahead,
to see what we must face."
     "That's silly," Jaina said. "Then you miss a lot!"
     "And we do not contradict our elders," Tigris said.
     "What's "cctradict"'?" Jacen asked.
     "Don't be impertinent," Tigris said.
     "What's "impertinent"'?" Jaina asked. She did not  know  what  either  ^w
meant, so if Tigris was trying to tell her that they meant the same thing, she
still did not know what he meant. Now he acted as  if  he  was  angry,  saying
nothing and urging them faster into the dark.
     Jaina wondered if she could burrow her way through the wet heavy blanket.
It followed her and stayed wrapped around her. It was invisible, and when  she
touched her own arm she could not feel anything surrounding her.
     But all the time, she felt like Hethrir had his cold  hard  hand  on  her
shoulder. She kept trying to wriggle out of it, like Anakin wriggling  out  of
her arms when she carried him. Trying to get free exhausted her.
     The corridor ended in a big square stone room. The room was dim,  but  at
least it was not all dark like the corridor. Faint gray light glowed from  the
ceiling. The ceiling was very low compared to the ceilings Jaina was used  to.
If Tigris reached up, he would be able to touch it. Hethrir would hardly  have
to reach to touch it.
     The stone room had no walls, only wooden doors.  Each  door  touched  the
door on each side of it. All the doors were closed.  There  were  no  windows.
Jaina wondered if she could find her way outside, somehow, back the  way  they
had come.
     Or I'll have to try every single door, she  thought.  There  must  be  at
least a hundred. Maybe seven thousand!
     One of them must lead outside, she thought.
     Then she realized, If this is a spaceship--which she had not been able to
figure whether it was or not--then getting out won't do us any good at all.
     She was so tired. She tried to pretend she did not want to take  a  nap--
naps were for little kids, like Anakin--but her eyelids kept drooping.
     Tigris urged Jaina and Jacen into the  big  stone  room.  It  echoed  all
around. He stopped, standing between the twins. Jaina was so sleepy  that  she
leaned against him. She almost fell asleep standing up.
     Tigris's hand lay on her shoulder. It was the  only  warm  thing  in  her
whole world. For a second--just a second--his touch felt like a friendly  hug.
Jaina thought he might pick her up and carry her to a place  where  she  could
take a nap, and tuck her in like Winter  did.  And  everything  would  be  all
right.
     Then she remembered where she was and what had happened, and maybe Tigris
remembered that too, because he shook her shoulder and made her wake up.
     "Here!" he said. "None of that. Here we don't sleep unless we're  in  our
beds. There's no time for lazy napping!"
     "I wasn't asleep!" Jaina said, which was sort of true.
     "Me either," Jacen said.
     He sounded as sleepy as  Jaina  felt.  He  must  be  wrapped  in  one  of
Hethrir's heavy cold blankets, too.
     But when we're in bed it will be all right, Jaina  thought.  It  will  be
warm and I can sneak my hand out of the covers and he can sneak his  hand  out
of his covers and we can hold hands. And even if we can't think at each  other
we can whisper.
     Jaina's eyes filled with tears and her  vision  blurred.  She  had  never
before had to think about sneaking just so she could hold her brother's  hand.
She never had to think about  sneaking  before  at  all!  And  she  could  not
remember the time before she could think at Jacen. She felt so cold and  tired
and hungry and lonely that she almost burst into tears again.  She  only  kept
from crying because she knew that pretty soon she could talk to Jacen and they
could figure out what to do.
     Tigris urged them forward. They reached one of the little  doors.  Tigris
opened it. Jaina thought there would be another long corridor beyond  it.  She
did not think she could walk down another long corridor.
     There was hardly anything at all beyond the door. Only a tiny room,  just
the width of the door and only about twice as deep.
     Jaina stopped, confused. Maybe there was another door at the back of  the
tiny room. But she could see no handle, no automatic controls, no  mark  where
the door's edge would be. The open door was heavy,  scarred  wood,  while  the
inside of the room was the ugly, gray-glowing rock.
     Tigris let go of Jacen's hand and pressed him a few  steps  forward  into
the little room.
     The door thudded shut behind him.
     "Jacen! Jacenffwas Jaina cried. She  snatched  herself  out  of  Tigris's
grasp and ran to the door, grabbing for the  handle.  But  Tigris  pulled  her
away. From the other side, Jacen cried out her name.  She  could  barely  hear
him.
     "Come now," Tigris said. "Don't be  a  baby.  Here  we  don't  shout  and
scream. We're brave."
     Jaina turned around furiously. "I am brave!" she said.
     She tried to hit him, but he caught both her hands and held  them  still,
and she could not do anything.
     "I am brave, and I want my brother!"
     "It's time to sleep," Tigris said. "You  won't  act  so  foolish  in  the
morning. Come along."
     Maybe I  can  still  talk  to  Jacen  through  the  wall,  Jaina  thought
desperately. Maybe it won't be too bad....
     She turned hopefully toward the door next to Jacen's.
     Tigris led her away from Jacen's room, all the way across the huge square
hall. He opened a door to a tiny room just like Jacen's, but as far  from  her
brother's as it could be.
     Tigris let go of her hand. She looked up at him.
     "Show me that you are brave," he said. He glanced into the room and Jaina
knew he wanted her to go inside without being told.
     She looked up at him, directly into his large dark eyes.
     "I want to go home," she said.
     "I know," Tigris said softly. He hesitated, then  gestured  to  the  tiny
room. "But... you cannot."
     She went in. She had no other choice. He closed the door behind her.
     The ghostly gray stone faded toward darkness. Jaina searched for  another
opening. Another exit. A way to take apart the lock or the hinges of  the  big
wooden door. She could find nothing, except a few splintery scuff marks  where
someone had kicked at the wood.
     Jaina walked around her tiny room.  She  touched  the  walls.  She  found
nothing. She knocked on the side walls, but the sound was very hollow, and she
received no reply.
     At the back of the room, her feet sank. She dropped to her knees and felt
the floor. It was soft and squishy. The ghost glow was almost gone. She  could
see her fingers, but the floor was dark. She could push the  floor  down.  The
soft spot was just big enough for her to curl up on. She tried it out. She was
cold, but that was because of Hethrir's invisible blanket. She wanted her  own
bed. She wanted her own comforter, and Eba, the soft  Wookiee  doll  Chewbacca
had brought her, with a twin doll Aba for Jacen, after his last trip home.
     The light went out. The room was very dark. Jaina shivered.
     I'll pretend, Jaina thought. We're on a  campout.  But  all  the  camping
stuff got lost. Or maybe it fell in the water. It's all wet. We  have  to  fix
it.
     She thought of a soft camp mattress under her, just dried out,  nice  and
warm. And her smart camping blanket. It knew when she was cold and it knew  to
warm up. It knew to snuggle down around her to keep out the wind. It liked  to
get wet sometimes - - x liked to swim. Then it lay flat on the ground, because
it did not have any feet. And it wriggled and shook until its fur was dry  and
warm and Jaina could wrap it around her shoulders and go to  sleep.  When  she
was little she even liked to sleep with it at home.
     Mama is on the camping trip, too, Jaina thought. And  Papa,  and  Winter,
and Chewbacca, and Uncle Luke, and Mr. Threepio, and Artoo-Detoo  didn't  come
because he doesn't like getting dirt in his treads, but  he's  back  home  all
safe. We had toast over the campfire, and Anakin is sleeping over  there,  and
Jacen is here too, and we made cocoa...
     A small warm point of light appeared before her, flickering  like  flame.
She reached her hand out, and Jacen wrapped his fingers around it,  and  Jaina
stopped shivering...

     Tigris hurried back to Lord Hethrir's chambers.
     I was foolish, he thought. Foolish and weak to coddle the children. I did
them no good, to try to comfort them. I only make them  foolish  and  weak  as
well!
     He knelt at Lord Hethrir's door. He did not knock. Lord Hethrir  knew  he
was here. The Lord would acknowledge him when he was ready, when the time  was
appropriate.
     Tigris used the waiting time to consider the errors he had made.
     Finally, when Tigris's knees had begun to ache, Lord Hethrir's door swung
open. Tigris felt the weight of Hethrir's gaze upon his shoulders.  He  raised
his head and looked into Hethrir's eyes.
     "You took longer than necessary," Hethrir said.
     "Yes, Lord Hethrir."
     For a moment, a moment only, Tigris thought to lie, to  blame  the  extra
time on the little children. For they.were contrary and impertinent. But their
impertinence had not caused him to take the extra time.
     "I erred, Lord Hethrir. I spoke to the children. I  instructed  them,  as
you wished, but I spoke to them at unnec length. I was... weak and foolish."
     Hethrir loomed over him. He did not express  anger.  He  never  expressed
anger. Tigris wondered if he ever felt anger, or if his mind was too  advanced
for any such defect.
     "You disappoint me, Tigris," Hethrir said.
     Tigris felt the disappointment. He was disappointed in himself. He  never
pleased Hethrir; he always failed.
     "But you have confessed your error, so I will give  you  another  chance.
Get up."
     Tigris obeyed. Hethrir  returned  to  his  chambers,  then  glanced  back
impatiently.
     "Come along!"
     Astonished, Tigris followed Hethrir. Hethrir seldom invited  him  inside.
He felt mightily honored to be brought into the beautiful receiveg room,  with
its thick patterned carpet over golden tiles, its  polished  body-wood  walls,
its curving pipes of light tracing designs on the ceiling.
     The smallest new child, Anakin, sat quietly in the middle of the rug. His
energy was much diminished since Tigris last saw him. He had  begun  to  shine
again, with a weakly flickering light.
     "You have confessed your weakness," Hethrir said again. "That  will  help
you find your path to strength. I will forgive you. What do you think of  this
child?"
     Tigris regarded the little boy.
     "He could be very strong," Tigris  said.  "His  light  shines.  You  have
placed him within a veil."
     Hethrir nodded. "An adequate observation."
     Tigris was thrilled by the compliment. Not precisely a compliment, but as
near as Hethrir ever gave him. For once he had not displeased his master!
     "Thank you, Lord Hethrir."
     "I shall take him to be purified," Hethrir said.
     "To be purified?" Tigris said, so startled he forgot his place.
     This child, an Empire Youth? he thought. If my  lord  will  present  this
contrary child for purification, why won't he present me?
     "My lord, he has no training--he isn't a Proctor, he isn't even a helper-
-!"
     Hethrir gazed at him, without anger or comment.  Terrified,  Tigris  fell
silent.
     "I will take the child to be purified," Hethrir said again, as if  Tigris
had never spoken. "Take my message to the helpers:  they  are  to  prepare  my
ship."
     "Yes, Lord Hethrir," Tigris whispered.
     Tigris rose, then hesitated.
     Lord Hethrir cannot have forgotten the reception tomorrow morning, Tigris
thought. Is he testing me again? I long to  serve  him  some  other  way  than
carrying messages! I long to earn the right to be purified. I'm not afraid  of
the danger! Perhaps, Tigris  thought,  Lord  Hethrir  believes  I  forgot  the
reception. Perhaps he thinks my hopes are so arrogant that I  cannot  remember
my duties.
     "Is a member of the Empire Youth in residence, my lord?"
     "Certainly not. They are all working for the Empire  Reborn,  undermining
the New Republic." Lord Hethrir sounded impatient.
     "Then, sir, shall I ask the Head Proctor to negotiate with your  guests?"
Tigris asked.
     "My guests--?" Hethrir said. "The Head Proctor?"
     "Tomorrow morning, sir."
     Hethrir paused.
     "I'd no more leave the Head Proctor to receive my guests than  I'd  leave
you, foolish Tigrisffwas he said sharply. "I have no  intention  of  departing
before my guests arrive! Why did you think I might?"
     "I misunderstood," Tigris said quickly. "I beg your forgiveness."
     Hethrir sighed. "You continually apologize, but you never change in  such
a way as to make apology unnec. That is what you must strive for!"
     Tigris hung his head. He could not think of anything to say, except  that
he was sorry, and he did not want to say he was sorry again. He was  aware  of
the depths to which he had disappointed Lord Hethrir. He picked at the cuff of
his ragged brown robe, knowing how far he was from replacing it with the rust-
colored tunic of a helper, or the light blue jumpsuit of the Proctors.
     Hethrir rose. His white robes rustled. The soft fabric slid across itself
as the Lord moved. The sound made Tigris shiver.
     The whining hum of Lord Hethrir's lightsaber filled  the  room,  and  the
silver-gray light of the blade cast shadows on Tigris's  empty  hands.  Tigris
raised his head, to gaze in wonder as he always did at the  radiance  of  Lord
Hethrir's saber.
     The blade vanished.
     "Try once more," Lord Hethrir said, and gave the handle of the lightsaber
to Tigris.
     The handle of the saber felt warm in Tigris's grip.  The  lightsaber  was
too large for Tigris's hands, but he clasped it as best he could.
     He knew what Lord Hethrir wanted him to do.
     The blade of Lord Hethrir's lightsaber could only be activated by the use
of the Force. Hethrir would not accept anyone into his inner circles who could
not complete the circuit and generate the blade.
     Tigris tried, how he tried, to make a connection to the Force, to  extend
himself, to create the blade.
     The child Anakin raised his head and watched with interest.
     Nothing happened. The saber remained cold and dead.
     "Mine!" Anakin said, stretching his hands toward Tigris.
     Lord Hethrir smiled fondly at Anakin. "No, little  one,"  he  said.  "You
have no need of my lightsaber."
     He returned his attention to Tigris, and sighed again. He took  back  his
saber and fastened the handle to his belt,  beneath  his  outer  robe.  Tigris
caught a glimpse of the second lightsaber he carried,  a  smaller  one,  which
Tigris had never seen him wield. Tigris was convinced  that  if  Lord  Hethrir
would let him try that lightsaber, the  smaller  one,  he  would  be  able  to
succeed. But Tigris had tried to hint  at  the  possibility,  just  once.  The
memory of his lord's abrupt silence kept Tigris from ever again making such  a
suggestion.
     "Go," Lord Hethrir said.
     "Yes, Lord Hethrir," Tigris said.
     He had disappointed his mentor. He had disappointed himself. And  he  was
frightened.
     Children who could not touch the Force did not deserve to remain  in  the
presence of Lord Hethrir.

     Jaina woke up because she was so hungry. It was very dark! Where were the
moons and the stars?
     Maybe it's all cloudy, Jaina thought.
     And then she remembered what had happened.
     She gasped and sat up. She stuck her hands out in front of her--Jacen had
been holding her hand, hadn't he? - - but she could not see him and she  could
not hear him and she could not find him.
     The soft place in the floor turned solid again.  Startled,  Jaina  jumped
up. The spot the room used for a bed had disappeared.
     She felt her way to the door. It was still the same splintery  wood.  The
hinges were outside and so was the latch.
     "Let me out," she said. The door  did  not  respond.  "Open,"  she  said.
"Please." Nothing happened. She tried a couple of  other  languages.  None  of
them made any difference.
     She sighed.
     I didn't really think it would work to ask, she thought.
     She was scared to use her abilities to explore the door  latch,  but  she
was more scared not to try.
     The moment she  reached  into  the  latch,  the  heavy  cold  blanket  of
Hethrir's power fell around her.
     Jaina flinched and pulled away. She had managed a brief  glimpse  of  the
latch. It was simple but very big and heavy.  A  handsbreadth  of  wood  stood
between the latch and Jaina.
     I could take it apart, she thought. I know I could. If I could  just  get
to it. I could even put it back together and not have any pieces left over.
     She shivered again. Hethrir's blanket lay cold and wet  around  her.  She
guessed it would go away again, if she was good. She  pushed  her  cold  hands
into her pockets. She just wanted to get warm.
     Her fingers closed around her multitool.
     She snatched it out of her pocket.
     How could I forget? she thought. She opened the wood tool. She touched it
to the door. She was not supposed to use her multitool on houses or furniture.
But surely this was different.
     A few splinters fell away.
     The door cracked open. Dull light washed over her. She  jumped  back  and
shoved the multitool into her pocket to hide it.
     "Ow!" It was so dark in her room that the light hurt.  She  squeezed  her
eyes closed.
     "Come out," Tigris said. Jaina could not see him but she  recognized  his
voice. Blinking and rubbing her eyes, she came outside.
     Tigris closed the door behind her.
     She saw Jacen across the  room,  standing  in  front  of  his  door.  His
shoulders drooped.
     She ran toward him. Tigris grabbed her and stopped her. She wriggled  but
she could not get away. He made her stand in front of  her  door.  She  looked
around the room. A child stood in front of each door, all  different  children
from all different worlds. None of them moved.  They  all  looked  scared  and
tired, and their clothes were ragged.
     Older children in rust-red tunics stood straight in a double line in  the
middle of the big stone room.
     "We do not run, here," Tigris said. "We  wait  for  permission  from  the
Proctor."
     Tigris pointed toward the front of the big room. A tall young man wearing
a light blue jumpsuit stood at the entryway, watching  everything.  He  folded
his arms.
     "And then the helpers show us how to line up, and we walk  where  we  are
told."
     The helpers fanned out, precise and expressionless, spacing themselves as
if they were herding the ragged children. The children  turned  obediently  to
face the Proctor. Across the room, Jacen stayed stubbornly where he was.
     Jaina glared at Tigris and did not move.
     "Why?" Jaina asked. "I want Jacen! Where's Anakin?"
     "I told you we are not impertinent here!"
     "I wasn't, I don't even know what it means!"
     "Turn!" Tigris said sharply.
     Jaina glared at the floor, just like Jacen across the room.
     "Do you want your breakfast?" Tigris asked.
     Jaina looked up. "Yes!"
     "Then do as you are told."
     Jaina scowled and looked at the floor  again.  Tigris  had  to  push  her
around. One of the helpers did the same to Jacen.
     "Walk!" Tigris said. The other children  walked  forward,  all  in  step.
Tigris pushed Jaina along with them.
     But she did not walk in step.
     Jaina scuffed her feet on the concrete. Tigris tightened his  long  sharp
fingers around her shoulder. But he did not tell her  to  stop,  so  she  kept
scuff+. The noise came in between the regular tramp, tramp, tramp of the other
children's marching feet. A second scuff+ added itself to the  sound.  Out  of
time with her own!
     Jaina shot a glance across the room.  Jacen  grinned  at  her.  Then  the
helper beside him turned Jacen's head straight forward.
     But the damage was done. Jaina skipped a few steps, one  foot,  hop!  the
other foot, hop! All around her, other children  broke  step  and  hopped  and
skipped and jumped.
     A red-gold centauriform child tapped her hoofed feet in  a  quick  dance.
She cantered in place, flicking her long tail across her spotted  flanks.  She
raised her head and yodeled a joyful howl, and both Jaina and  Jacen  answered
her.
     Tigris hauled Jaina back.
     "Stop! Be quiet!"
     His fingernails dug into her skin.
     "Ow!" she shouted. She could pretend it did not  hurt,  but  she  saw  no
reason to pretend she was not outraged. "Stop it! That's mean!"
     His grip opened for a moment, then tightened again, even harder. He  made
her stand still. Her abilities trembled at the brink  of  exploding,  but  she
controlled herself. Hethrir's power had begun to ease away. She was scared  it
would come back.
     The other children stood still. Across the room, a  Proctor  clamped  one
hand around Jacen's arm.
     "We all must accept discipline," Tigris said. "You're a child. You  can't
know what's right for you. You must obey me, as I obey the Proctors  and  Lord
Hethrir."
     "Why can't I skip? Why can't I run? Why can't I shout?"
     "Because it is bad discipline. You must learn to control yourself."
     That stopped her. Classes with Uncle Luke were mostly about  learning  to
control what she could do.
     "But Uncle Luke let me  run  and  skip!"  she  said.  "That  didn't  have
anything to do with--"
     "Luke Skywalker is dead," Tigris said.
     "But--"
     "No more argument!" Tigris said. "Stand in line quietly  and  follow  the
child in front of you."
     Jaina was glad Tigris had interrupted her. She had almost  told  him  she
knew Uncle Luke was alive!
     And Mama too, she reminded herself, and Papa, and--
     Suddenly Hethrir was beside them.  Jaina  imagined  that  she  could  see
silvery symbols on his robe, across his shoulders and his chest.
     "Lord Hethrirffwas Tigris exclaimed. He fell to his knees.
     "What is this commotion?" Hethrir demanded.
     "I was explaining our ways to the child," Tigris said, keeping  his  gaze
on the floor.
     "Do not explain," Hethrir said. "Command."
     "Where's my brother?" Jaina said. "Where's Anakin?"
     "You have behaved badly," Hethrir said. He raised his voice  so  all  the
children and the helpers could hear. "I have canceled breakfast because of the
behavior of this child. You will all proceed directly to the study hall."
     "That isn't fair!" Jaina cried. "No breakfast--no breakfast for anybody--
because I skipped?"
     "Hush!" Tigris whispered.
     Hethrir strode from the room without speaking to  her  again.  His  white
robe swirled across the floor.
     Jaina was so hungry her stomach growled. She and Jacen had had nothing to
eat since lunch yesterday. Her mouth watered when she remembered  the  chowder
and sandwiches, and the fruit for dessert...
     "It isn't fair!"
     "You broke the rules." Tigris climbed to his  feet.  "You're  part  of  a
group. The rules apply to the whole group."
     "But--"
     "Be quiet," Tigris said. "Lord Hethrir hasn't canceled lunch--yet."
     Jaina looked around at all the other children. She thought they would all
be mad at her. No one said anything or looked at her. She saw, for  the  first
time, how thin they all were, as thin as they were ragged, and she thought how
hungry they must all be. She wanted to say she was sorry. But she  was  afraid
if she spoke, Lord Hethrir would take their lunch away too.
     She subsided. When the line of children moved forward, she  walked  along
with everyone else.
     But her steps were a little out of time.

     Jaina was so hungry she could hardly think, and so bored she could hardly
stay awake. She did not understand why she had to sit  in  this  tiny  cubicle
with no sunlight and no fresh air, memorizing information that  popped  up  in
the air in front of her. Most of it she knew already, like  her  letters,  and
her times tables. The stuff she did not know, she could not understand why she
would want to know. She stopped bothering to remember it. The score  of  wrong
answers mounted in big numbers hovering over her head. She did not care.
     She fell asleep.
     "You must be a very stupid little girl."
     Jaina jumped, wide awake. She had not heard Tigris come  up  behind  her.
She stood and glared at him.
     "I am not! I'm smart! Why are you so mean?"
     He stabbed one finger into  her  ghostly  score  of  wrong  answers.  His
fingernails were dirty and bitten.
     "You mustn't think of me as mean," Tigris said.  "I'm  only  helping  you
learn discipline."
     "You act mean."
     "If you don't want me to act mean, then you have to answer the questions.
"
     "They're stupid questions!"
     "You're an impertinent child. Do you think you know what's better for you
than Lord Hethrir does? You're very ignorant!"
     "I'm not! I'm not! I like to learn things! These are dumb things!"
     "How high is the highest waterfall on the world of Firrerre?"
     "I know how to decide what stream is the headwater  of  a  river,"  Jaina
said hopefully. "I know how to figure out how high a waterfall is, even if you
can't get to the top!"
     "But Lord Hethrir didn't ask  you  those  questions,"  Tigris  said.  "He
asked, "How high is the highest waterfall on the world of Firrerre?"'"
     "I don't know. That's a dumb question, to--who cares what the answer  is?
I can look it up."
     "It is one thousand two hundred sixty-three  meters  high.  Lord  Hethrir
thinks all educated people should know these facts. Sit down  at  your  screen
and learn what he offers."
     She could not see that she had any choice.
     "It's still a dumb question," she whispered.

     Chapter
     4

     Leia dreamed in sounds. She was surrounded by darkness, but whistles  and
warbles came to her from all directions.  The  voices  formed  shapes  in  the
night. She cried out, reaching for the shapes, three small figures, so fragile
and precious.
     Leia gasped and woke with a start. She had fallen asleep  in  the  chair.
The lights sensed her motion and brightened.
     What a horrible nightmare, she thought.
     Then she remembered: it was not a nightmare.
     At her side, Artoo-Detoo whistled plaintively.
     "Oh! You frightened me," she said. "What's the matter,  Artoo?  Is  there
news--?" There was not. "Did you wake me up to go to bed?" She  smiled  sadly.
"I don't think it matters where I am anymore." She pushed herself to her feet.
Tension stiffened her neck and her back.
     She felt lethargic and groggy. It was the  middle  of  the  night.  Still
hours till dawn.
     "Mr. Iyon did drug me!" she exclaimed. She  shook  her  head,  trying  to
fling away the daze of sleep. "Why, I'll--ffwas
     Then she remembered that Chamberlain Iyon had drunk the  tea  along  with
her. That was why he had yawned, that was why he had stumbled. And perhaps  he
had hurried to his room and collapsed into drugged slumber.
     She was angry to have been sedated without her knowledge. But considering
his beliefs, and his fears, she could hardly blame him.
     Artoo-Detoo rolled toward the doorway.
     "Good night," Leia said.
     Artoo-Detoo rolled toward her, then away again.
     "What's the matter?"
     The droid whistled peremptorily. It whirred toward the door.
     It waited.
     "Where are you going? Do you want me to go too?"
     Artoo-Detoo scooted through the doorway.
     Leia followed.
     "But where are we going? Is Chewbacca awake, is that it?"
     She followed Artoo-Detoo into the corridor. The  castle  was  silent  and
dim. In the corners of her vision, the carven figures on every surface shifted
and played out their stories. When  she  looked  at  them  straight  on,  they
remained still, mere carvings in the stone.
     Artoo-Detoo did not take the path to the surgery.
     "This way," Leia said.
     The droid rolled off without stopping. Curious, troubled, Leia hurried to
follow.
     Balmy night air flowed around her as she followed Artoo-Detoo out of  the
castle. She had not even known this doorway existed. The castle was so big, so
labyrinthine, that she had only memorized routes to the places she  needed  to
reach.
     Above, the several moons of Munto Codru waltzed in the sky. The cries  of
night creatures eased the silence.
     "Where are you going?" Leia whispered.
     Around her, all sounds ceased. She stopped, spooked by  the  change.  She
stood quietly, and the night sounds slowly began again,  first  distant  ones,
then nearer cries, finally small chirpings almost at her feet.
     Artoo-Detoo whistled. The droid's voice blended with those of  the  night
creatures. They continued their calling, unafraid.
     Artoo entered the woods and rolled  along  the  trail  that  led  to  the
meadow. At the edge of the field where  the  children  had  disappeared,  Leia
hesitated, then plunged ahead. When she entered the woods on the other side of
the clearing, she suddenly gasped for air. She had been holding her breath.
     You're acting like a scared child, she said to herself. Then added, Or  a
terrified mother...
     Soon she realized where Artoo-Detoo was  going.  She  caught  up  to  the
droid.
     "What's at the field? Artoo, do you know where the children are? Are they
hidden in one of the ships?"
     A few spaceships stood in the small landing field on the castle  grounds.
Larger ships had to put down at the main spaceport, for  the  facilities  here
were primitive. But if the kidnappers had access to one of  the  local  ships,
they might have hidden here. No one would have thought to look,  because  they
could not take off. Not without clearance from the  main  spaceport,  and  the
main spaceport was not giving clearance to anyone.
     "Tell me, Artooffwas
     Artoo-Detoo did not reply.
     Three ships stood on the small landing field. One was a courier, the ship
she had wished to send after Han and Luke. The second  was  an  antique  local
craft of intricate design, a Munto Codru vessel put at  the  disposal  of  the
chamberlain.
     The third was Alderaan, Leia's pride and joy. Alderaan was a sleek little
ship with hyperdrive capabilities. Luke had chided her for spending  the  time
to learn to fly it that she could have used to study the ways of the Jedi. But
the truth was, it was much easier and faster to learn to fly Alderaan than  to
learn to be a Jedi Knight. And a great deal more fun. Maybe that was  why  she
loved the little starcraft so much. Her responsibility to  the  Republic  kept
her from having much fun.
     The  same  was  true  of  everyone  she  knew.  Luke  worked  himself  to
exhaustion.  Leia  thought  that  he  deliberately   worked   himself   beyond
exhaustion, either to test himself or to take  himself  to  another  level  of
achievement. But he scared her,  sometimes.  She  wished  they  had  grown  up
together; she wished she had known her  brother  as  a  child,  so  she  could
understand him better.
     Han did not deliberately push himself beyond his endurance. He had passed
plenty of tests in his life; he never needed to give himself more. But he  did
press himself to his limits without meaning to. Often  Leia  would  come  home
after a diplomatic reception or a long meeting with her advisers to  find  Han
facedown at his desk, snoring. Once he fell  asleep  in  his  bath.  Leia  was
convinced that if she had come in five minutes later, he would have drowned.
     That was why he and Luke had gone on a quest  together.  They  were  both
burning out. They needed time off.
     She doubted Luke would find any other Jedi Knights on his quest, but  she
hoped he would find some rest. And she hoped Han would let loose, like in  the
old days.
     Leia followed Artoo-Detoo onto the field. She expected the droid to  stop
at the courier. When Artoo-Detoo passed  the  courier  she  drew  in  a  long,
distressed breath. Could the droid be heading for the chamberlain's  ship?  He
had always been kind and helpful to her. Even when he drugged her he had meant
well. But if the children were in his ship, if he had kidnapped  her  children
to increase his prestige on Munto Codru...
     Artoo-Detoo passed the chamberlain's ship and continued on toward Leia's.
     Leia ran after the droid.
     No one can get into Alderaan without my consent! she cried to herself. No
one! Not even Han. And certainly not  the  twins  or  Anakin!  The  kidnappers
couldn't have forced them to open the ship, because they don't know how to  do
it.
     Her heart raced. A powerful practitioner of the Force might  be  able  to
get into her ship without setting off the alarms.
     She calmed herself. Wait and see, she thought. Wait and see.
     Artoo-Detoo stopped beside Alderaan.
     Leia laid one hand on the silver flank of  her  ship.  No  distinguishing
mark marred its limpid finish, which  looked  like  puddled  mercury.  It  was
registered to a  person  who  did  not  exist,  a  second  identity  Leia  had
established so that someday, sometime, somehow, she would be able  to  take  a
few days off and fly away to a pleasant place without  being  recognized.  Its
ship's signature did not even list its name, only its number, because the name
of Alderaan gave too great a clue to the true identity of  the  ship's  owner.
Almost all the citizens of Alderaan had perished in the attack  of  the  Death
Star. Only a few had survived. Princess Leia Organa had been one of them.
     "Is someone in there, Artoo?" she whispered.
     The droid made a soft faint hum, the sound Alderaan made as it powered up
for liftoff.
     "All right. I'll stop them before they can take off. Don't worry."
     She executed the entry sequence. The hatch opened. Leia entered her  ship
and moved silently down its corridor.
     She had no feeling of intrusion, no sense that anyone was aboard.  Artoo-
Detoo followed on silent treads. Leia kept the lights off; she could find  her
way around in Alderaan with her eyes closed if need be. She glanced  into  her
stateroom. Nothing. No one was hiding in the second cabin, in the head, in the
storeroom, in the galley. She crept toward the cockpit. Her pulse pounded.
     The cockpit, too, was empty.
     Could they be hiding in the engines? That was the only possibility left.
     At the engine hatch, she stopped and listened carefully. She  could  hear
nothing, no sounds of conspiracy, no cries of frightened children,  no  shrill
squeals of Anakin in one of his brief, intense tantrums. Perhaps they were all
asleep.
     A soft faint hum surrounded her.
     She glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see Artoo-Detoo mimicking the
sound of her ship again.
     The corridor behind her was empty.
     The hum increased. Someone had begun the takeoff procedure.
     Leia slammed the hatch and pelted her way back to the cockpit.
     Artoo-Detoo had extended connectors into the ship's systems  and  powered
up Alderaan's drive.
     "Stop it, Artooffwas Leia exclaimed. "What are you doing, I can't--"
     A display flashed into being before her.
     The display traced out the spaceways of Munto Codru.  Traffic  was  light
around this old world. No ship had arrived or departed for several days.
     Except one.
     A single distinct trail led from the surface. It reached escape velocity,
streaked away from the planet, reached for hyperspace, and disappeared.
     "What is this, Artoo?"
     The droid trilled at her.
     Leia gasped and sat down hard in the pilot's couch.
     She was looking at  the  trace  of  a  ship  that  could  belong  to  the
kidnappers.
     "Why didn't anyone show this to me before?"
     Artoo-Detoo showed her that the  information  had  disappeared  from  the
spaceport's records. The only uncorrupted information lay within Artoo-Detoo's
compact shell.
     "They got away..." Leia whispered. "How did you know, how  did  you  find
out?"
     Artoo-Detoo sang her an explanation. The droid  might  have  to  navigate
through local space at any time, and, as a precaution,  made  a  habit--or  an
instinct--of tracking spaceship traffic. When  the  kidnappers  struck,  Artoo
compared memory banks to the spaceport report, and noted a disparity.
     Artoo-Detoo believed the contradiction was a clue to the kidnappers.
     Leia  agreed  with  Artoo's  conclusion.  Munto  Codru  attracted  little
starship traffic. The disparity in the records, coming as it did just  at  the
time of the children's disappearance, was too suspicious and too convenient.
     The hum of Alderaan's engines increased.
     Leia knew she should shut Alderaan down, return to the castle, and confer
with her advisers. Talk for hours, trying to  decide  what  to  do,  what  was
prudent, waiting on the whim of the people who had stolen her children.
     Arguing with Chamberlain Iyon about whether it was a coup kidnapping...
     "You understand, don't you," Leia said, as much to herself as  to  Artoo-
Detoo, "if we leave, and if we're wrong--if it really is a  coup  kidnapping--
we're risking Mr. Iyon's wyrwulf."
     Artoo-Detoo warbled a descending call.
     Do I hear uncertainty? Leia asked herself. Or  is  it  my  uncertainty  I
feel?
     It would be so much easier for her to believe Mr. Iyon, to wait for a few
more hours, negotiate with the Munto  Codru  family,  see  her  children  rush
happily into her arms. Followed by Chamberlain Iyon's massive  and  horrifying
black-on-black wyrwulf.
     But she did not believe. She did  not  believe  a  coup  kidnapper  could
penetrate her security and whisk her children from Chewbacca's protection. She
believed the kidnappers to be alt more powerful, more sinister.
     They wounded Chewbacca and set off the pressure bomb  to  disguise  their
true actions and their true intentions, Leia thought. They made  us  oblivious
to the passage of two hours' time. And they abducted Mr. Iyon's wyrwulf--ffadd
to their illusion of a coup kidnapping, to distract us, while they escaped.
     If this was true, the children were far from Munto Codru, and  they  were
in deadly peril.
     She laid one hand gently on Artoo-Detoo's carapace.
     "Yes," she said. "You're right. I have to take the risk."
     Artoo-Detoo emitted a shrill of agreement.
     "Mr. Iyon, I'm sorry," Leia whispered. "I hope I'm right."
     She dragged the safety straps across her body and fastened herself in and
engaged the controls. She went through the countdown  sequence  fast,  pushing
the safety margins. Her ship came alive around her.
     Activation.
     Alderaan lifted off.
     As soon as Alderaan rose above the clouds, the spaceport sensors reacted.
A sleepy traffic controller sent her a message.
     "Munto Codru Spaceport to WU-9167, do not proceed."
     If Leia replied, they would know who piloted the ship. She would have  to
explain, justify herself--and she could not justify herself. She only knew she
had no choice.
     But she could not let it become known that the  Chief  of  State  of  the
Republic had begun to behave erratically.
     "Munto Codru Spaceport to WU-9167, return to your  base,  the  hyperspace
supervision systems are under repair. Proceeding could be  dangerous  to  your
health!"
     "Tell them we have our own supervision  systems,"  Leia  said  to  Artoo-
Detoo. Alderaan streaked upward through the atmosphere. Its skin grew hot.
     Artoo-Detoo warbled a transmission.
     "Munto Codru Spaceport to WU-9167, that isn't an acceptable response. You
risk censure, a fine, and confiscation of your spacecraft."
     Artoo-Detoo replied with a soothing explanation.
     The chamberlain's secrecy worked against him now. As far as the spaceport
police knew for certain, she was only breaking an administrative  order.  They
could record a fine against her. They could plan to  confiscate  her  ship  or
take her license, when and if she returned. But this was not a police  matter.
They did not suspect that she was an escaping kidnapper, because they did  not
know anyone had been kidnapped.
     "Munto Codru Spaceport to WU-9167, if this is an emergency, we can send a
tractor after you."
     "Oh, Artooffwas Leia said. The last thing she needed was to have to dodge
around a space tug and its tractor beam.
     Artoo-Detoo broadcast a loud  electronic  raspberry  and  shut  down  the
transmission.
     "Got that one from Han, did you?" Leia said.
     Alderaan  reached  the  upper  atmosphere.  In  the  thinning  air,  heat
dissipated rapidly. The temperature of the ship's skin dropped, from very  hot
to very cold.
     The blue sky turned indigo, then purple, then black. The stars came out.
     One of the stars moved: light  glinted  off  the  battered  skin  of  the
orbital space tug as it changed its path to intersect Leia's.
     Setting itself to stop her, it put a tractor beam  between  Alderaan  and
the hyperspace point through which the kidnappers had escaped.
     "How strong is it?" Leia asked. "How far do we have to go to avoid it?"
     Artoo-Detoo evaded her questions.
     "And here I thought you were perfect," she said.
     Instead of changing  Alderaan's  course,  Leia  accelerated.  Artoo-Detoo
whooped in warning.
     "I don't care. We have plenty of power. If the beam grabs us  we'll  just
have to break it."
     "Munto Codru Spaceport to WU-9167, we're  tracking  you.  Stay  calm,  we
think we can counteract your acceleration. Pilot, are you injured? If you  can
pull the plug on your engines you'll make our work a lot easier."
     The controller kept his voice calm. If Alderaan  had  been  in  distress,
Leia would certainly have appreciated the reassurance.
     Alderaan accelerated toward the tug's tractor.
     Leia's display showed her the beam, waiting to surround her ship with  an
energy field as thick as molasses. She poured on more power.
     At least we aren't in combat, she  thought.  There's  no  risk  to  them,
trying to stop me. I don't have to worry about their safety.
     Her own safety struck her as inconsequential.
     "Munto Codru Spaceport to WU-9167,  secure  yourself  for  tractor,  it's
going to get rough in five, four..."
     Artoo-Detoo snapped treads into the safety recess and hunkered down. Leia
glared at the droid.
     "Why do I think you do know the strength of the tractor beam?" she said.
     his... three, two, one, engage!"
     Alderaan shuddered violently as the tractor beam grasped and  slowed  it.
Leia pushed the engine to its limits. Alderaan quivered around her. The strain
on her ship hurt her.
     Alderaan's shields resisted the tractor. For an  instant,  Leia's  little
ship slid free. The space tug, responding with surprising speed  for  such  an
old and obsolete vessel, snatched at Alderaan again. Alderaan struggled in its
grip. The shields wavered, compressed to the edge of their strength.
     Alderaan slowed, plowing through  the  beam  as  if  through  a  powerful
current.
     If I were in trouble, Leia  thought,  I'd  be  desperately  grateful  for
whoever's keeping that tug in such good shape...
     The shields rallied. Alderaan seized more distance, another  step  toward
escape.
     Alderaan shuddered.
     The tractor beam broke. The change buffeted Alderaan and flung Leia  into
the pilot's couch so hard it knocked the breath from her.  Struggling  against
the streaks of pain through her vision, she corrected her ship's course.
     Alderaan responded, steadied, and plunged.
     "No!" the spaceport controller cried, at the end of his reassurance. "I'm
sorry--"
     Every star exploded into a multicolored line, radiating around Alderaan's
path.
     "We made it!" Leia exclaimed.
     A cry of distress and relief echoed through the ship.
     "What was that?" Leia exclaimed.
     She snatched away the restraint, jumped up, and ran to the  rear  of  the
ship.
     In the second cabin--the cabin that had been empty when  she  checked  it
for kidnappers--Chewbacca lay in the bunk.
     "What--how--?" Leia cut off her ^ws.
     Artoo-Detoo rolled  past  her  and  stopped  beside  Chewbacca,  warbling
happily.
     "You let him in?" Leia exclaimed. "How could you? Is that why you let  me
think my children were hidden under the engines? So you had time  to  let  him
in? He's hurt! How is he going to heal? What am I going to do with  a  wounded
Wookiee?"
     She stopped. She tried to calm herself. She was so angry she could barely
speak, much less make sense.
     Chewbacca roared.
     Leia still had to concentrate hard to understand him.  She  had  listened
and learned for a long time, to be able  to  communicate  with  her  husband's
oldest friend. She still could not pronounce Chewbacca's language, but she had
made some headway in comprehending it.
     Chewbacca expressed distress and regret and sorrow  that  he  had  failed
Jaina and Jacen and Anakin, but not a moment's remorse that he had come along.
     "I'm not going back," Leia said to Artoo-Detoo. "I'm not taking him  back
to Dr. Hyos. I hope you thought to bring enough medicine!"
     Alderaan carried medical stores, of course, but Chewbacca was  large  and
his wound was serious. Leia herself had only the most rudimentary  of  medical
training, picked up on the fly in the old days.
     She crossed the cabin and stood beside Chewbacca, gazing down at him.  He
moaned.
     "I'm sorry you're hurt," she said. "And I know you want to  help.  But  I
wish you'd stayed back on Munto Codru. Everyone will recognize you, that's why
you couldn't go with Han! Even when you're well enough to get up, you're going
to have to stay in the ship."
     Chewbacca snarled a quick retort.
     "I suppose you're right," Leia said reluctantly.  "You  and  Han,  people
would recognize. You and me... maybe not. I'll have to think about it."
     His huge palm touched the back of her hand; his fingers,  very  warm  and
gentle, curled around her wrist. Leia jerked away, fighting her anger at  him,
but losing.
     "Go to sleep," she said. "You're supposed to be asleep."
     She fled before her anger could hurt him any more.
     Leia flung herself into Alderaan's pilot's chair.
     She breathed deeply, slowly. The exercise felt ragged, for she was  still
angry and distressed. The calming ritual was one of the few Jedi abilities she
had begun to learn, though when she had told Luke she knew how to  do  it,  he
had replied that no one ever completely understood Jedi techniques.
     "Every time you reach a new stage," he had said, "you  realize  that  you
really don't understand anything, you have to go back to the beginning, to the
most basic practice, and learn what you didn't see the last time through."
     "That's very encouraging," Leia had said in a dry tone  that  Luke  chose
not to acknowledge.
     "It is," he said. "It's wonderful, isn't  it?  There's  always  something
more to learn. There's always something new."
     Her pulse and her breathing slowed and steadied. For the first time since
morning, she felt a glimmer  of  hope,  a  glimmer  of  the  presence  of  her
children. The center of her being yearned toward them.
     Behind her, Artoo-Detoo entered the cockpit.
     The glimmer vanished.
     "I'm not speaking to you," Leia said.
     With a plaintive whine, Artoo-Detoo rolled away.
     She had to start all over again. In a state of calm, or  in  a  state  of
frenzy, she could begin to use her untrained potential. She had  more  control
when she was calm, more power when she drove her  potential  with  fury.  With
fury came great danger.
     Hyperspace glowed and writhed around her. Somewhere in its  patterns  she
would find a trail.
     She must find it.
     She  thought  she  saw  it,  she  grasped  for  it,  it  eluded  her  and
disappeared.
     Relax, she said to herself. Relax, and maybe you can find them.
     That was like ordering herself to stop worrying: it was impossible.
     She abandoned her quest for detached calm. She discarded her pretense  of
composure.
     Instead, Leia loosed her rage and terror and pain. Tears  sprang  to  her
eyes, blurred her vision, and rolled down her cheeks. Anger spiced the terror.
She pounded her fists against her pilot's chair. She began to sob,  to  groan,
to mutter the basest curses of Han's roughest smuggler friends.
     Leia screamed.
     Rage and terror and pain all shattered around her, and  disappeared.  The
force of her love and grief broke through into a brilliant blue-white reality.
     A vivid scarlet line streaked across the glowing  blue-white  domain  and
stabbed into the soft rainbow colors of hyperspace:  Leia  saw  it,  felt  it,
heard its color. She tasted and smelled it.
     She snatched the controls of Alderaan  and  plunged  along  the  bloodred
trail.
     Artoo was right, Leia thought. The children did come this way, it  wasn't
a coup kidnapping.
     Leia shivered with relief, andwith fear. She had made the correct choice.
But her children were in even more danger than Mr. Iyon's wyrwulf.
     Just outside the cockpit, Artoo-Detoo rolled nervously  back  and  forth,
whistling with confusion and distress.

     The crystallizing white dwarf plummeted toward  Crseih  Station,  falling
toward the black hole. The two stars rose and set in opposition, creating long
days, short nights.
     Grateful for even a few hours of relative coolness, Han strolled into the
lodge, along the pathways between the quiet streams and glassy pools.
     In his room, the only illumination was the reflection of shore lights off
the crater lake.
     Han threw down his jacket, kicked off his boots, and flung  himself  onto
his bed. It was a long walk from the first dome of Crseih Station to the  park
dome of the lodge. He felt tired but exhilarated.
     The humming whine of a lightsaber startled him. He  whirled  around.  The
blue light filled every corner of the room and even lit a  dust-mouse  beneath
the bed, as if the light were too powerful to cast shadows.
     "Where've you been?"
     Luke slouched on the deep couch in the corner, wrapped in his robes,  his
legs extended. The lightsaber  flicked  off  again,  plunging  the  room  into
darkness.
     "Out enjoying my vacation," Han said easily. "How about you?"
     The hum of the lightsaber pierced Han's inebriated  brain  as  the  blade
snapped into existence.
     "That really hurts my head," Han said.
     Luke performed a couple of ritual cuts. A slash, a parry, a  thrust.  The
air vibrated. The blade barely missed the wall, and a  hanging  tapestry,  and
the arm of the couch.
     In the light of his blade, Luke looked haunted. He let the  energy  blade
withdraw.
     "What were you doing?" Luke asked.
     "Repairing our finances." Han raised the light  level  in  his  room.  He
grabbed his jacket, reached into the  pockets,  and  pulled  out  handsful  of
credits. He let the bills flutter to the bed, to the floor, even  over  Luke's
feet.
     Luke gazed at the bills dispassionately.
     "We didn't need our finances repaired," he said.
     "We're on the border!" Han exclaimed. "You show a letter of resources  on
the border and they laugh at you. And maybe knock you on the head in an  alley
to grab it and take it someplace they can use it."
     "But gambling winnings," Luke said dryly, "are perfectly safe."
     "I couldn't lose tonight, kid," Han said. "They thought they  could  lure
me in and take me, but I couldn't lose. I could have made us rich  instead  of
just comfortable, but I thought, No, why be greedy?  Why  risk  one  hand  too
many? So I picked up my winnings and I thanked them for a fine time--and  fine
ale--and here I am. Safe, and sound, and flush."
     "I was worried about you!" Luke said. "You disappeared without a ^w--"
     "I didn't want to argue with you," Han said to his  brother-in-law.  "You
wouldn't have come along--"
     "How do you know? You didn't ask."
     "Would you?"
     "No."
     "See?"
     "It's beside the point! I've got a mission here, a purpose, I--"
     "What's wrong?" Han said, suddenly concerned.  "What  are  you  so  upset
about?"
     "Something strange is happening at Crseih Station," Luke said. His  voice
was tight and intense. "Something strange, and I don't  know  what  it  is.  I
think we should be careful."
     "I'm on vacation," Han said, trying to make a joke of it. "Being  careful
is the last thing on my mind."
     Luke stared in silence out the dark window.
     "I'm tired," Han said. "I'm going to sleep. In the morning I'm  going  to
sleep in, and have breakfast in bed, and maybe I'm going to have lunch in  bed
too. And then maybe I'll go back to the  tavern."  He  yawned.  "Do  the  same
thing, kid. Relax. If there's anybody here for you to find, you'll find  them.
Or they'll find you."
     He sat up long enough to pull off his shirt, but he was too tired to take
off the rest of his clothes. He flopped back onto his bed.
     "And tomorrow you can try to find Threepio," he said to Luke.
     "I already did that," Luke said, matter-of-fact.
     "Oh yeah?" Han mumbled, half asleep. "Where is he?" He  fumbled  for  the
edge of the blankets to pull them around himself before he fell asleep.
     "Right  here,  Gen--sir."  Threepio  stepped  into  Han's  room,   almost
invisible in his new purple skin.
     "Fine, great," Han said sleepily. "Tomorrow you and Luke can get  on  the
hunt and find our mysterious informant." His  eyelids  drooped  and  he  heard
himself snore just as he fell asleep.
     "I have done that, sir," Threepio said. "She is here."
     Han woke with a snort. He sat up, still half asleep.
     "Her? Here? What'd you bring her here for?" Struggling  to  wake  up,  he
thought back over  what  they  had  said.  Luke  had  been  playing  with  his
lightsaber--had he even been using his disguise? - -  and  Han  had  not  been
careful with his tongue. Maybe the informant already knew Luke  Skywalker  and
Han Solo were investigating the strange reports from Crseih Station.
     "Because we need to speak." The new voice was light and  soft,  but  very
serious.
     Han turned over, rolling himself up in  his  blankets  with  a  groan  of
exhaustion, hiding himself from the intruder.
     "Come back in the morning," he said through the muffling bedclothes.  "On
second thought, come back in the afternoon."
     "We have no time to waste, Solo."
     He bolted up, snatching the bedclothes away from his face. She  did  know
who they were--
     Luke's saber hummed, and the blade stroked a line of light  across  Han's
dim hotel room. In the ghostly illumination of the Jedi weapon, Han saw  their
informant's face. He did not recognize her.
     "You no longer know me, Solo," she said with resignation. "I  should  not
be surprised, but I am disappointed that you wiped me from your memory."
     It was her voice that let him remember. He caught his breath.
     "Permit me to introduce--"
     "Xaverri?  Xaverriffwas  Han  said  to  Threepio,  "We've  already   been
introduced."
     Luke let his lightsaber blade vanish. The room turned pale with the  dawn
of the burning whirlpool.
     Han finished untangling himself from his blankets and stood up. His heart
beat wildly; he felt as if he had run a race.
     Xaverri faced him. She was nearly  his  height.  She  used  to  look  him
straight in the eye, but she was not wearing the high-heeled  boots  that  had
been so much a part of her style in the time he had known  her.  Nor  was  her
heavy, curly black hair elaborately dressed,  for  she  had  cropped  it  into
short, tight curls. Instead of revealing silks, she wore homespun trousers and
shirt.
     "I do remember you, Xaverri," Han said softly. "Of course I remember you.
I could never forget you."
     When he had known her, she had acted both carefree and careless, avoiding
any responsibility, moving on a whim. She took extraordinary risks. For a long
time, Han believed she  simply  sought  excitement  because  she  enjoyed  it.
Exhilarated, they had taken the risks and experienced the excitement together.
     Finally, Han discovered that she did not care if she lived  or  died.  He
had not understood why, back then.
     But now he did understand.
     Xaverri had risked her life against the chance that  she  could  outsmart
and outrun high officers of the Empire. She had always won.
     Han had begun to wonder, in those heady days of excited  terror,  if  she
won because she did not care if she lost. If she lost, she would die, and  her
grief would end. When she won, revenge eased the grief a little.
     She had changed. When he knew her in the old days she had hidden  herself
behind makeup and expensive clothing and jewels. She had heightened  the  gold
glow of her skin and disguised the round lines of her  smooth  face.  She  had
concealed the soft brown of her eyes behind iris-enhancers of  opaque  silver,
piercing green, or eerie faceted diamond.
     Yet her beauty and intensity had always  glowed  through  her  veneer  of
sophistication. Now she no longer hid behind anything, and her spirit shone as
strongly. Han would not have recognized a picture of her. But  her  voice  was
the same, and her strength.
     "How did you know it was me?" he asked.
     "How could I not?" Xaverri asked. "I sent you the message."
     "Why didn't you say it was you? Why didn't you use a language I know?"
     "Because I did not want my message to be  easily  read."  She  hesitated.
"And... I did not know you would respond, if you knew the message was from me.
"
     Han started to protest, but kept his silence.
     She might be right, he thought. I'm ashamed to admit it, but she might be
right.
     "At first I did not know you," she admitted. She touched his beard.  "But
as soon as you spoke--"
     Han felt as if he had plunged back into the old days, when  his  thoughts
and Xaverri's mirrored each other with eerie precision.
     He could not speak directly about those old days. He was surprised at the
turbulence of his feelings and the strength of his pain.
     "What have you been doing, all these years?" he  asked.  "What  have  you
been doing in the Republic, now that all the Empire officers are gone?"
     "They are not gone, Solo," she said.
     She had always called him Solo. In the society of  Xaverri's  birth,  the
given name came last, after a long  list  of  ancestral  references.  She  had
assumed his given name was Solo, and that he was of low class  or  an  orphan,
with only a single prename. Once they got that straightened out, she was  used
to calling him Solo and he was used to hearing it.
     "They are not gone. Some--some that you fought--are dead.  But  many  are
hiding beneath respectability, waiting and  working  for  your  government  to
falter and fail. Waiting for their chance."
     "They'll wait a long time," Han said.
     "I hope so. In the meantime, they are as greedy and venal as they  always
were. They are as susceptible to temptation, when I offer them  more  wealth."
Her smile was joyous and unmerciful.  "And  they  are  even  more  vulnerable,
because they have fallen from power. They do not dare draw  the  attention  of
your authorities. I wrong them dreadfully--and they cannot complain."
     Han laughed, imagining the arrogant Empire officers he had known, brought
low by fear and Xaverri's predations. Then he sobered.
     "You should tell me who they are," he said. "Who  they're  pretending  to
be. So the New Republic can bring them to justice."
     "My justice is harsher," Xaverri said,  "and  more  satisfying.  Perhaps,
when I have taken sufficient revenge, I will tell you the names of the ones  I
have humiliated and impoverished. And then I  will  humiliate  and  impoverish
more of them, and tell you who they are. Thus I will have my justice, and  the
Republic will have its justice."
     Han wished he could ease her memories, and her need for vengeance. But he
could not help her in the old days, and he could not help her now.  He  wished
he had embraced her as soon as he recognized her,  but  now  he  felt  awkward
about doing so. He backed away a step, and looked around for  his  boots.  His
exhaustion had vanished.
     "You've met Luke and Threepio, I see," he said. He sat on the edge of his
bed to pull on his boots.
     "Yes." Xaverri inclined her head to Threepio. "I am  not  often  received
with such diplomacy." She turned toward Luke. "And I had not expected the  New
Republic to respond to my warning with such illustrious investigators."
     "We decided--"
     his--t the report deserved a serious response," Han said quickly, cutting
Luke's ^ws off. Luke might have said the same thing. Then again, he might have
let it slip that Han was using her strange report as an excuse for a vacation.
He did not want her to know he had not taken the message seriously.
     "Your report," Luke said. "You wouldn't tell us the source of the strange
phenomena. Will you now?"
     "No," Xaverri said.
     Luke jumped to his feet. "But you must! Who--?"
     "I will show you," she said.
     "Just tell me!" Luke exclaimed.
     "You would not believe me. You must see for yourself."

     Jaina trudged down the hallway, one of many in the long line of children.
The helpers made sure the line stayed straight, while a  Proctor  oversaw  the
whole group. Tigris walked nearby.
     Is that what they always have for lunch? she  thought.  She  could  still
taste the rancid grease of the soup she had been given.  She  had  tasted  one
bite, and then - - politely, as she had been taught, she did have good manners
no matter what Hethrir and the Proctors said--she had said it was rotten.  She
did not mean it tasted bad--well, yes, she did mean it tasted bad. It was also
spoiled.
     She had not eaten it. Everyone else had. She had given hers to  the  red-
gold centauriform child. But a little bullyboy named Vram had snatched it away
and thrown it on the floor and gone and told on them. The  helpers  had  given
him a piece of fruit as a reward. They liked Vram.
     Jaina's stomach growled. She was very, very hungry.
     Someone nudged her shoulder. She glanced back.
     "Play, soon," said the red-gold  centauriform  child.  "Play,  now."  She
spoke with a heavy accent, but Jaina understood her.
     She cantered one quick step in place, just as she had when Jaina  skipped
across the gathering room. Her dainty hooves tapped on the stone.
     Tigris glanced back to stop the cheerful noise. But  the  red-gold  child
was plodding along with everyone else by then. Her tail switched briskly.
     Jaina wondered what the red-gold child meant.
     Play? she thought. I don't believe nasty mean Tigris  will  ever  let  us
play. Why can he tell me what to do, he isn't a Proctor, I  don't  think  he's
even a helper!
     The children marched down another long hallway. Jaina wondered why it was
so far between places, in these endless underground tunnels.  They  must  have
been hard to build. The castle  at  Munto  Codru  had  been  honeycombed  with
tunnels, but the tunnels connected hundreds of rooms and storage chambers  and
spy-windows and secret places. Here the tunnels had no windows, no  doors,  no
twists or turns. Each had only a beginning and an ending, with maybe one curve
or corner in all its long length.
     Jaina saw light! Real light, white and full of color,  not  this  ghostly
gray. It blazed down at her, silhouetting  the  children  ahead  of  her.  She
wanted to run toward it. She wanted to shout with joy.
     Ahead of her, the other children climbed stairs and walked out  into  the
light. It washed over them, bathing them  in  radiance.  But  they  just  kept
walking. When Jaina saw the sun, she would raise her face to  it  and  let  it
pour down over her. She would run into the brightness--
     "Stop."
     All the children stopped at the Proctor's command. Jaina was only  a  few
steps from the dazzling brightness at the bottom of the stairs. She caught her
breath. She feared they would take her back into the darkness.
     The Proctor gestured sharply to Tigris. Jaina yearned toward the light in
dismay, certain Tigris would pull her from the line and make her  go  back  to
the dim study cubicle, or the dark sleeping cell.
     Tigris raised her chin and turned her toward him and made her look up  at
him.
     "You can walk, in the play yard," he said. "You can speak quietly in  the
play yard. You can't shout. You can't run. You can't dig the sand. You mustn't
pick the leaves. Do you understand?"
     She nodded. His grubby fingers pinched her chin. He let her go.
     "And you can't go near the fence!" he said.
     "Why do you have so many rules?" Jaina asked.
     "That isn't a rule," Tigris said. "If you go near the  fence--the  dragon
will eat you!"
     A dragon! Jaina was entranced.
     The Proctors allowed the  children  to  move  forward  again,  and  Jaina
climbed out of the pit into the sunlight.
     It was bright and hot, much more  intense  than  she  was  used  to.  She
blinked the sparks away from her vision, looking for  Jacen,  anxious  to  see
him, trying to discover where she was and how they might escape for home.
     Mr. Chamberlain's wyrwulf ran toward her across the sand. She fell to her
knees and flung her arms around its neck.
     "Oh, you're all right! Did they leave you  out  here  all  alone?  You're
lucky, though, you don't have to study those dumb lessons!"
     The heavy black guard hairs of the  wyrwulf's  coat  felt  rough  against
Jaina's face. A heavy metal and leather collar had been  fastened  around  the
wyrwulf's throat. Jaina tried to free the wyrwulf.
     "I'm sorry," she said. "I can't get it off." Her fingers were not  strong
enough to unfasten the collar.
     The wyrwulf whined and leaned against her.
     "Let's explore." Jaina got to her feet. "Let's see if there's a  way  out
of here."
     She looked around.
     The play yard was the bottom of a canyon. The canyon was not  very  deep,
but its sides were very steep and smooth. They would be hard to climb.
     There was some way to get up there. On the cliff high above, the Proctors
in their light blue uniforms spun and  struck  and  slashed,  practicing  with
lightsabers.
     Jaina stared at  them  in  disbelief.  Why  did  these  bad  people  have
lightsabers? Lightsabers were for good people, for Jedi Knights. She wanted to
be a Jedi Knight. She wanted to be old enough to build her own lightsaber, and
learn to use it. She also wanted to be a mechanic, and a raceship driver,  and
a drum player.
     She turned her back on the Proctors, up on their  high  cliff,  and  kept
looking around for a way to escape. Mr. Chamberlain's  wyrwulf  trotted  after
her.
     A fence closed the far end of the canyon. Jaina walked toward the  fence.
It might not be as hard to climb as the stone cliffso.
     She was not on Munto Codru. She  was  not  on  any  world  she  had  ever
visited. It was a very small world. Past  the  fence,  the  horizon  lay  very
close. And the horizon curved. The tiny hot sun moved in the sky, so fast  the
shadows moved.
     This isn't a real world, Jaina thought. It's too small. It's a made  one,
a built one. Otherwise it wouldn't have this much gravity.  And  it  spins  so
fast, its day is only a couple of hours long!
     A few prickly plants struggled to grow in the dry sand. Jaina  could  not
imagine wanting to pick their thorny leaves.
     There was nothing to play on, only the bare canyon sand  surrounding  the
staircase pit, and the fence locking them all inside.
     Someone nudged Jaina from  behind.  The  red-gold  centaur  child  danced
around in front of her. Her sides and back were spotted  with  white.  Velvety
knobs above her temples poked through her wild, curly hair.
     "You're different," the red-gold child said.
     "I'm Jaina."
     "I'm Lusa." Lusa looked sidelong at the wyrwulf. "Does it bite?"
     "No, it just has big teeth. Do you see my brothers?" Jaina looked around,
but there were only half as many children in the play yard as there  had  been
in the gathering room.
     Lusa took Jaina's hand. "Every day, they  mix  us  up.  Every  day,  it's
different. Tomorrow your brothers are in this group, I'm not. Tomorrow, you're
in their group, I'm still here."
     It took Jaina a little time to figure out Lusa's way of talking.
     She tells me different things  that  could  happen,  Jaina  thought.  But
that's okay. At least they aren't awful things. Except  that  I  want  to  see
Jacen now, not tomorrow or the next day. And I want to know if Anakin  is  all
right.
     Hand in hand, Jaina and Lusa walked across the  yard.  Every  few  steps,
Lusa hopped, springing into the air and coming down on all four feet.
     "I want to  run,"  she  said  sadly  when  she  saw  Jaina  watching  her
curiously. "I want to gallop, and jump."
     "Me, too," Jaina said. She jumped up in the air, like Lusa, and came down
on both feet. It was not the same as  running,  but  it  helped.  The  wyrwulf
watched.
     The edge of the play area ended ten paces from the fence. All  the  other
children were walking around, but no one entered the undisturbed border.
     Jaina took a step toward it.
     "Don't!" Lusa said, keeping hold of her hand. "The dragon--it'll eat you.
"
     "I want to see the dragon," Jaina said.
     Then she thought, Why should I even believe  there's  a  dragon?  Hethrir
told me my mama is dead. I don't believe that. I  don't  believe  anything  he
says. I don't believe anything mean nasty Tigris says.
     She looked around for Tigris, but he had disappeared. A few bored helpers
stood together and gossiped, hardly paying any attention to the children.
     "There's no dragon out there," Jaina said.
     "There is," Lusa said. "A dragon lives there. The sand hides the dragon!"
     Beyond the fence, wind had blown the sand into low rolling dunes.
     "There's no place for a dragon to hide," Jaina said.
     She took another step.
     A huge lizard erupted from the  sand.  It  roared.  The  sound  was  like
thunder, like wind.
     Sand showered up around it, and over the fence, and into Jaina's hair.
     She shrieked in fear and delight. The wyrwulf yelped. The other  children
ran away, toward the safety of the stairwell. Jaina wanted to stay  where  she
was, on the undisturbed ground, to see what the dragon would do.  Lusa  pulled
her to safety. Lusa tried to run all the way to the stairwell, pulling  Jaina,
but Jaina pulled against her and stopped them both.
     Just beyond the undisturbed sand, they turned back to look at the dragon.
     It was like Jaina had suddenly turned invisible. The dragon  crouched  on
all fours, lashing its heavy tail. It growled. It peered this way,  that  way.
It was beautiful, Jaina thought, not very graceful but powerful. It had thick,
muscular legs and a short heavy tail with a spiked knob on the tip.  Its  huge
long head was mostly mouth. Big jaws and big thick drippy teeth.
     Its scales looked like shiny beads, black and tan and pink.
     "It hides in the sand," Lusa said. "The sand looks like its scales."
     The dragon snorted and blinked. It backed up a few  steps,  wiggling  its
tail. It dug itself a basking spot and used its big feet to flip sand up  over
its back. Lying between two of the low dunes,  it  looked  like  a  sand  dune
itself.
     "It's wonderful!" Jaina said. She wished Jacen  were  here.  Jacen  would
love it.
     Maybe I'll get a chance to tell him about it, she thought. Just a  second
is all I'd need, practically.
     She almost tried to think at him about the dragon. Just the idea  brought
her up against the hovering cold cloud of Hethrir's power.
     She decided to wait.
     "What does it eat?" Jaina asked.
     "Children," Lusa said, her voice gloomy. "Us when we're bad."
     "Oh, silly," Jaina said. "Did you ever see it eat anybody?"
     "No, but they told--" Lusa blinked her red-gold eyes.  "They  told  us...
they made it roar. It didn't eat us, it only roared us."
     She switched her tail and flung back her tangled hair.
     "It only roared us!"
     Jaina grinned.
     The other children came cautiously out  of  the  stairwell  and  gathered
behind Jaina and Lusa.
     "It didn't eat you!"
     "I bet it doesn't even eat children," Jaina said. "I bet it eats...  bugs
or fish or plants or something."
     "There aren't any fish!" Vram said in a stuck-up voice.
     "Sand fish!" Jaina retorted. "Haven't you ever heard of sand fish? You've
never been anywhere!"
     The other children nodded.  But  no  one  stepped  onto  the  undisturbed
ground. Jaina had to admit the dragon was pretty scary, when it jumped up  out
of the sand. It might not eat her. But it might knock down the fence and  step
on her, without even meaning to.
     Suddenly three ships screamed down out of space and streaked  across  the
sky above the canyon.
     "Look!" Jaina cried out with excitement, knowing, just knowing, that Papa
had come to save her with  the  Millennium  Falcon,  or  Mama  had  come  with
Alderaan.
     The wyrwulf pointed its nose in the air and howled after them.
     Jaina did not recognize any of the ships. Two were dark, like the Falcon,
and one was bright like Alderaan, but the two dark ones were shaped wrong, and
the bright one was gold rather than silver.
     The other children stared after the  ships.  They  all  fell  silent  and
scared. Jaina expected one of the helpers to come and tell her  to  be  quiet.
Maybe even send them all to bed without dinner. Jaina was so hungry  now  that
she wished she had eaten the icky soup. She was sorry she had shouted.
     All the helpers, and the Proctor overseer, had disappeared.
     "Don't they watch us while we're out here?" Jaina asked.
     The other children looked around. A whisper of fear passed among them.
     "What's the matter?"
     Without a  ^w,  the  other  children  clustered  together.  Lusa  pranced
nervously.
     "What's the matter, Lusa? What's going to happen?"
     Lusa raised her head, her eyes wide with fear. Her long curly  mane  flew
around her face.
     "They come for us, they take us--" Lusa put her hands  protectively  over
the velvet knobs on her forehead. "They cut off your horns!"
     "You're gonna get sent away!" Gloating, Vram pointed at Lusa; he  pointed
at Jaina. "You're gonna get sent away-ay, you're gonna get sent  away-ay!"  he
chanted. "Whenever the ships come, Lord Hethrir sends the bad ones away!"
     Jaina thought, Where could we go that would be  worse,  why  is  Lusa  so
scared?
     "Good!" Jaina said. "Who wants to stay in this rotten place?" She grabbed
Lusa's hand. "We'll go away together, and my papa will come and rescue us!"
     "You don't know anything!" Vram shouted. "You'll all go away to different
places! You'll be all by yourself!"
     That scared Jaina. Lusa was trembling. They could make Lusa go away. They
could make Jacen and Anakin go away!
     Vram jumped up and down with glee and pointed at Lusa.
     "I heard them say, they're going to take you away and cut off your horns!
Cut off your horns forever. Serves you right!"
     Lusa cringed away from him.
     I don't have any horns to cut off, Jaina thought. So what would  they  do
to me?
     She held Lusa's hand tighter. Mr. Chamberlain's  wyrwulf  leaned  against
her.
     Lusa edged toward the other children, till she and Jaina became  part  of
the group. Lusa kept pushing between the other children till they reached  the
center.
     If I hold Lusa's hand, Jaina thought, it will  all  be  all  right.  They
won't take either of us away.
     Lusa's fingers felt warm in Jaina's  hand.  The  centauriform  child  was
trembling. She hunched down and ducked her head. She shook her  hair  forward.
But no matter what she did she was still taller than the others. And no matter
what she did, her velvety horn-knobs poked out through her curls.
     "They wouldn't cut off your horns," Jaina  whispered.  "Why  would  they?
Your horns are pretty!"
     "They cut off your horns to make you ugly," Lusa said, her voice shaking.
"They cut off your horns to make you obey. But my horns haven't  come  through
the velvet yet." She stared at Jaina, fear in  her  eyes.  "If  they  cut  the
velvet, I'll die!"
     Jaina hugged Lusa. She wanted to hit  Vram  for  scaring  them  all,  for
scaring Lusa. But Mama always said not to hit. She thought  that  if  all  the
children stood around Vram in a circle and glared at him, though,  they  could
make him be quiet.
     Before she could try to get everyone to test her theory, a double line of
helpers marched out of the stairwell. A Proctor overseer followed. The helpers
surrounded the children, the way Jaina thought the  children  should  surround
Vram.
     "Line up," the overseer said. "Line up, and stand up straight and tall."
     "He said line up!" Vram pushed one of the smallest children  out  of  the
group. The little child stumbled.
     Jaina jumped forward to catch her. Lusa pulled Jaina back. Jaina  slipped
out of Lusa's grasp and ran toward the little one. When Vram raised  his  hand
to slap the little one, Jaina grabbed him.  She  was  right  behind  him.  She
pulled his hand over his shoulder. He fell down, almost on top  of  her  feet.
She had to jump away.
     Lusa pranced beside her, and the wyrwulf growled. All together they faced
the bully. Vram flinched down against the ground.
     He's scared of us! Jaina thought.
     Then she thought, I'd  be  scared,  too,  if  Mr.  Chamberlain's  wyrwulf
growled at me!
     Vram's fair skin looked grayish and his spiky hair flattened against  his
head. He backed away. The little one scampered back to the group of children.
     Vram  suddenly  straightened  up,  swaggering.  His  skin  flushed   with
satisfaction.
     "You better get in line," he said.
     "Do line up, children."
     Hethrir's voice made Jaina shiver.
     Hethrir stood at the top of the stairwell. He spoke softly, but there was
no mistaking his tone. Frightened, the  children  broke  up  their  group  and
shuffled into a ragged line, scuff+ their feet in the sand.
     Vram ran to Hethrir and gazed up at him. "I was getting them to line  up!
I was making them, Lord Hethrirffwas
     "I see that you were," Hethrir said kindly. He placed his hand on  Vram's
head, ruffling his flattened hair.
     The fast-moving sun touched the canyon wall. In  a  minute  it  had  set.
floodlights came on all around, so bright Jaina had to blink.
     Hethrir strode forward. The hem of his long white robe whispered  against
the sand.
     All the Proctors, in their clean blue uniforms, their medals polished and
their epaulets glittering, marched behind him. Their lightsabers hung at their
belts.
     More helpers followed, guiding the  second  group  of  children.  Jacen's
group. Jaina wanted to run over to him, but  she  was  afraid  she  would  get
everyone in trouble again.
     And finally Tigris climbed to the top  of  the  stairwell.  Anakin  slept
against Tigris's shoulder!
     But it was nowhere near Anakin's naptime.
     What's the matter with him? Jaina wondered. Did they  hurt  him?  I  hope
they just made him sleep again. Like they made us sleep  in  the  meadow  when
they stole us.
     The helpers lined up Jacen's group  so  they  faced  Jaina's  group.  The
Proctors lined up in front of Hethrir, and the helpers lined up behind him.
     In the center of the square, Hethrir turned to Jaina  and  Lusa  and  Mr.
Chamberlain's wyrwulf. Vram grinned nastily at them.  Lusa  stamped  one  hind
foot. Vram ran behind Hethrir.
     "Get in line." Hethrir's voice scared Jaina.
     "No!" She wanted him to be mad at her, so  he  would  send  her  and  her
brothers away.
     Suddenly she was in line. She felt like someone had slapped her. I  won't
cry! she thought furiously. I won't!
     From the stairwell, Anakin  wailed  sleepily,  then  fell  silent.  Jaina
wanted to run to him, but she could not move.
     Mr. Chamberlain's wyrwulf growled. Suddenly it yelped and  flattened  its
ears and crouched down, staying very still.
     That left Lusa standing all alone. Hethrir froze the centaur  child  with
his gaze.
     "Perhaps you will regret defying me," he said. He turned his back on her.
     The centaur child fled to the line. She was shaking. The wyrwulf slunk to
Jaina's side.
     Hethrir nodded at the line of Proctors.  One  strode  forward,  strutting
with pride.
     "You have proven yourself," Hethrir said. "You  are  worthy  to  join  my
spearhead. You are worthy to join the Empire Youth."
     Two Proctors marched out and held a knee-length coat for the  Youth.  The
coat was not quite white, but the palest shade of blue. The Youth slipped into
it.
     He stroked the fur lapel. His face glowed.
     "Thank you, my lord! The Empire Rebornffwas
     "The Empire Rebornffwas the Proctors shouted, so loud Jaina jumped.
     The Empire Reborn? Jaina thought. What's that?
     She knew the Empire had been evil. Why would anyone ever want to bring it
back?
     Hethrir beckoned to one of the helpers.
     "You merit purification." Hethrir placed one hand on his head.  "You  are
now a Proctor. I shall take you to be reborn in the service of the Empire."
     Three Proctors surrounded the boy.  When  they  stepped  away,  he  stood
proudly in a light blue Proctor's uniform.
     Finally, Hethrir put his hand on Vram's head.
     "Good boy," he said. "You are now one of my helpers."
     A helper came forward, carrying  a  rust-red  tunic.  Two  other  helpers
pulled off Vram's stained shirt and his  ragged  trousers.  They  lowered  the
tunic over his head.
     Vram preened and smiled and strutted.
     Hethrir turned to the children in Jaina's line.  He  looked  straight  at
Lusa. She cringed back from him, afraid.
     Hethrir gestured. Lusa pranced forward nervously.
     Hethrir held out a lightsaber. Except it had no lens at its end,  only  a
small glass bulb. Jaina tried to figure out what the  fake  lightsaber  really
was.
     "Watch," Hethrir said.
     The glass bulb lit up, then went dark again.
     "Take it," Hethrir said to Lusa.
     The centaur child obeyed.
     "Turn it on," Hethrir said. "As I did."
     Lusa turned it over and around, trying to  figure  out  how  Hethrir  had
activated it.
     "Use your mind," Hethrir said. "Watch, again."
     He nodded to the new Empire Youth. The Youth  drew  his  lightsaber.  Its
blade hummed into existence.
     His lightsaber was different from Uncle Luke's. He had to turn it  on  by
using the Force. That was what  Hethrir  wanted  Lusa  to  do  with  the  fake
lightsaber.
     And Lusa could do it! For a second, Jaina percvd that  her  friend  could
touch the Force and use it. She was untrained and inexperienced, but  she  had
the ability. Jaina imagined herself and her friend as Jedi Knights,  traveling
through the galaxy and defeating evils.
     Evils like Hethrir, and his Empire Reborn.
     Hethrir's power slipped over Lusa. It blocked her talent. The bulb of the
fake lightsaber remained dark.
     "No fair!" Jaina cried.
     Hethrir's cold wet blanket fell around her. She gasped. Lusa dropped  the
test machine and sprang to help Jaina. Halfway  through  the  leap,  Hethrir's
power flung her to the ground. Struggling to get up, she whimpered.
     "You have failed," Hethrir said to Lusa.
     Two of the helpers pulled Lusa to her feet and dragged her away.
     "No." Lusa's voice rose. "No!"
     "Do not defy me," Hethrir said. "I'm doing this for your own good."
     Jaina struggled up and ran to Lusa and flung her arms  around  her  neck.
The wyrwulf ran back and forth, confused and upset and growling.  Lusa  hugged
Jaina and pressed the warm soft knobs of her horns against the top of  Jaina's
head. Hot angry tears burned Jaina's eyes.
     Slowly, slowly, Hethrir's force drew them apart. No matter how hard Jaina
tried to stay in one place, Hethrir's power easily overcame her. She felt like
she was falling off the edge of a cliff. Jaina's hands slid from Lusa's  neck,
and down her arms. Lusa braced all four feet. Her hooves dug  stripes  in  the
sand as Hethrir pulled her away from Jaina and Jaina away from her.
     They grabbed hands and held tight.
     As long as I hold her hand, Jaina thought. It will be all right, as long-
-
     Their hands slipped apart.
     Lusa screamed. Jaina reached to her--and Hethrir's power fell around  her
again, like a heap of wet sand. Jaina's reach vanished,  and  Jaina  lost  her
balance and fell down.
     She could not get up. She lay on the sand crying with rage  and  despair.
Jacen cried out and ran toward her and Hethrir made him fall down, too.
     Hethrir made them stay  there  while  he  tested  all  the  rest  of  the
children. A few could turn on the little light. More failed. Under the pile of
invisible wet sand, Jaina could not tell if Hethrir was cheating with some  of
them.
     Hethrir used his test to divide the children into two  groups,  one  with
Jaina and Jacen, the other with Lusa. Lusa stood shivering in the  heat,  with
her head down.  Mr.  Chamberlain's  wyrwulf  leaned  against  her  front  leg,
panting. Hethrir did not test the wyrwulf.  He  just  pointed  at  it  without
looking at it, and two helpers came and fastened chains to  the  heavy  collar
and dragged the wyrwulf away.
     All the children were terrified, crying  or  keening  or  hunkering  down
within their body armor  or  shaking  their  fur,  however  their  own  people
expressed fear and grief.
     All the children in Jaina's group were human beings. A few human children
had been sent to Lusa's group, but mostly  Lusa's  group  was  other  species.
Jaina thought that was weird. All the Proctors and all the helpers were human,
too. Jaina thought that was even weirder.
     Lusa looked back over her shoulder at Jaina.
     "Take me," Jaina said to Hethrir. "Take me instead, don't take Lusa away,
don't cut off her horns!"
     Hethrir ignored Jaina. The Proctors marched  down  the  stairwell.  Their
medals and epaulets glittered. Some of the helpers marched Lusa's group  away.
Two of them dragged the growling wyrwulf.
     Lusa's cry echoed up out of the tunnel.
     "Lusa!" Jaina cried.
     Vram pointed at Jaina. "You're so dumb, you're so dumb!"
     Maybe they're just going back to their places, Jaina thought desperately.
Maybe it is me that Hethrir is  sending  away--and  Jacen  too!  and  probably
Anakinff--because we're too much trouble! We don't have horns to cut  off.  If
Lusa's staying and we're going, she'll be safe!
     Hethrir strode over to Jaina. He glanced down at her.  His  gaze  flicked
briefly over her face. The smothering sensation of wet  sand  all  around  her
disappeared. She stood up. Jacen climbed to his feet, too.  They  hugged  each
other. Jaina felt very heavy and very tired.
     "There," Hethrir said, using his kind voice. He was talking to everybody,
not just Jaina. "Go back to your places and study hard. The other children are
going away because they are not as good as you. You may stay, because I expect
you to make me proud of you."
     "I never will!" Jaina shouted. "I never will, Lusa's just as good as  me,
and I'll never do anything to make you proud!"

     Chapter
     5

     Alderaan fell out of hyperspace. The scarlet trail led  to  a  cold  dark
region of space. The nearest star was light-years away.
     A burst of pain and fear and despair obliterated the trail.
     Leia cried out.
     If they've hurt my children... she thought. If they've harmed one hair- -
If they've...
     The memory of pain faded.
     I didn't feel death, Leia thought. It wasn't death! And it  wasn't  Jaina
or Jacen or Anakin. Who was it?
     The fear she had felt was not fear of death, but fear of continued  life.
She shuddered, imagining what could happen to a person to create such terror.
     Bathed in sweat and weak  with  exhaustion,  Leia  drew  a  long,  ragged
breath.
     Leia extended her ship's sensors outward. She watched and listened.
     She found a ship.
     "That's it!" she exclaimed. "I have you--!"
     She fought back the urge to press toward it immediately. It would not do,
to find her children only to fall into a trap.
     Artoo-Detoo raced into the cockpit.
     "I'm still not speaking to you!" she said.
     Artoo-Detoo grabbed the new ship's signature from the sensors and  traced
it in the air. Then the droid traced another signature beside it:  the  record
of the kidnappers' ship.
     The two ships were nothing alike.
     "No!" Leia cried. "No, this has to be them. I  followed  them  here,  and
there's no trail away! Maybe the ship was disguised--"
     She accentuated the visual aspect of the unknown ship. The result  struck
her silent. The vessel she had found was a huge, hulking passenger  freighter,
the kind the Empire had used to transport unwilling  colonists  from  star  to
star. It traveled slowly, carrying its sleeping cargo at sublight speeds.  The
Empire did not care if the colonists--political prisoners, convicts, and other
undesirables--lost touch with families and friends, who lived their lives  and
aged and died. The colonists slept on, trapped in dreams of a new  world  that
would welcome them, or in nightmares of a world that would kill them. They had
been slaves in all but name, sent away to prepare  a  new  world  until  their
masters chose to seek them out again.
     We've been looking for these ships, Leia thought. Trying to rescue  them.
No wonder we couldn't find them, way out here at the end of nowhere!
     Leia frowned. The passenger freighter was derelict, drifting, its engines
dead and its interior barely functioning.
     "What's it doing here?" she said. "We couldn't just have stumbled  across
it, that's too much of a coincidence to bear."
     Alderaan's sensors touched a second ship, and a third.
     "I don't believe it..." Leia whispered.
     Fully two dozen ships lay within her perception.
     She had found a graveyard of abandoned starships. They hung in  a  slowly
shifting cluster, circling each other in a tangled and chaotic dance.
     Chewbacca roared, a cry of grief and understanding.
     Leia jumped out of the pilot's chair.
     "What are you doing up? What are you doing awake? Are you determined to--
" She bit off the ^ws before they left her mouth. If she accused Chewbacca  of
trying to kill himself, he might agree with her.
     He limped forward and lowered himself painfully into the copilot's  seat.
He gazed at her. She glared at him, but finally her expression softened.
     "I'm sorry," she said. "I was blaming you. I shouldn't have. I don't know
what happened, but whatever it was, you couldn't have stopped it.  I  couldn't
have. Maybe even Luke couldn't have done anything."
     Chewbacca touched the thick chestnut fur at his  throat.  He  raised  his
chin, combed his fingers through his pelt, and revealed a patch of stark white
hair. He let her look at it for a moment, then lowered his head again.
     "Is that--?"
     He growled in assent.
     Chewbacca had been a slave. Not a colonist-slave, but the chattel  of  an
Imperial officer. Leia knew very little about that part of his life. She  knew
he had been kidnapped from the deep and magical forests of his world.  He  had
been chained, and punished for any defiance, and worked nearly to death.
     Young Han Solo of  the  Imperial  Navy  had  freed  him.  Han  had  saved
Chewbacca's life, for no Wookiee lived long as a slave.
     "Is that what happened here?" Leia said. "Did the  Empire  hijack  ships,
did it steal their passengers? That doesn't make sense!" She  gestured  toward
the sensor reports. "Those are Imperial colony ships. The Empire wouldn't take
slaves from its own ships, it  already  considered  those  people  slaves.  It
wouldn't abandon ships like this. It would take them away and use them  again.
It was evil--but it was efficient."
     Leia looked at the reports more closely.
     "Oh, no..." she whispered.
     The ships still contained passengers, and many of them had died. But some
were alive. Just barely alive.

     Xaverri showed Han the way, along a path that led  toward  still  another
dome. The trail led into a dense thicket of tall,  twisting  bushes.  Branches
tangled together to form impenetrable walls and a leafy ceiling, and to let in
nothing but gloomy deep green light. The  path  twisted  and  turned,  leading
deeper into the thicket.
     It feels like a trap, Han thought. I trust Xaverri--I trusted  her,  with
my life, and I was never sorry.
     But he had also trusted her with his heart.
     That was the old days, he said to himself. Everything's different now.
     Han walked behind Xaverri, with  Luke  and  See-Threepio  following.  The
pathway could only accommodate one person at a time.
     I wish, Han thought, not for the first time during this expedition,  that
Chewbacca was with us.
     "Look, Master Luke," Threepio  said.  "These  leaves  are  all  different
shapes. Look how they fall when I touch them."
     As Threepio's querulous voice fell a little way behind, Han  noticed  the
leaves for the first time. Threepio was right, they.were  misshapen.  Scabrous
colors mottled the irregular shapes. He brushed his hand along a  branch,  and
leaves fell fluttering to the ground.
     "I wonder," Threepio said, "if we should return to the  ship  and  secure
some radiation detectors. I believe more  radiation  may  be  penetrating  the
domes than the station management is prepared to admit." His  voice  faded  as
Han rounded a bend in the path. "Why, I can  virtually  feel  my  intelligence
circuits exploding beneath the assault."
     "Your intelligence sounds normal to me," Luke said.
     Han chuckled, and lengthened his stride to catch up to Xaverri. He wanted
to speak with her privately.
     But when he was walking just at her shoulder, he could not decide what to
say. He wanted to know what had happened in her life, in the years since  they
had parted, but he felt uncharacteristically shy of asking.
     "You recognized Luke," Han said to Xaverri.
     "Yes."
     "He said no one would."
     "I demanded some proof that he was  a  true  representative  of  the  New
Republic. He removed his disguise."
     "So he did look different to you, at first?"
     "Very different. But he released me from  his  influence."  She  shivered
slightly. "He is very skilled, Solo. I did not even know he was affecting  me,
until he let me go."
     "He's talented," Han said. "But he never had the  chance  to  finish  his
formal training."
     "Ah," she said. "That's said to be very dangerous."
     "Yes. And he's had occasion to realize it."
     "I had heard... some rumors on that subject," Xaverri said.
     "Did you?" Han said. "We thought we'd managed  to  keep  it  from  public
knowledge."
     "Perhaps you did," Xaverri replied. "But I am not precisely the public...
and I put considerable energy into cultivating many lines of communication."
     "Some  of  them  are  better  than  mine,"  Han  said,  annoyed  by   the
realization.
     "Some of them are different than yours, Solo," Xaverri said.  "There  are
many people who will speak to a thief,  who  might  have  spoken  to  a  young
smuggler... who will not speak to a General of the New Republic."
     Han did not like to admit he had changed so much from the old days. Admit
it or not, though, it was true.
     "You could be an asset to the Republic," he said.
     "Me?" She chuckled. "No. As soon as I became an  asset,  I  would  become
valueless."
     "Your work would be secret."
     "Nothing is secret. And you know it, Solo."
     "Then why did you get in contact with us? What do you want?"
     "I want nothing from you!" she said angrily. "The Republic  has  made  my
work harder. You are worthless as prey--y are all so honorable--so dull!"
     Xaverri glared at him a moment, then  her  anger  eased.  Her  expression
turned to worry.
     "I heard about phenomena that are strange and dangerous.  I  investigated
them. I think they are a threat to the Republic."
     "You just said you don't like the Republic," Luke said.
     Han started. Luke had  come  up  behind  him  without  a  sound,  without
warning. He hoped Luke had not heard  him  discussing  Luke's  frailties  with
Xaverri.
     "She did not precisely say she did not like the Republic," Threepio said,
pedantically. "She said--"
     "I have no quarrel with the Republic,"  Xaverri  said.  "My  profits  are
less, but I do not need much to live on. Perhaps I shall retire soon."
     "But you said--" Han said.
     "You must remember what it was like!" Xaverri snapped. "When the  Emperor
ruled, his minions  raided  our  homes.  When  the  Emperor  ruled,  our  only
protection was bribery and blackmail. When the Emperor ruled, I required great
sums to protect my homeworld from raids, to protect my friends from death,  to
save their children from the  press  gangs.  And  even  then...  sometimes  my
efforts were not sufficient."
     Her voice broke. Han touched her wrist.  She  twisted  her  hand  so  her
fingers curled around his; she pressed his hand briefly, then released him.
     "Yeah," he said. "I remember how it was."
     "So, you see," Xaverri said, in control of her voice once  more,  "thanks
to the Republic, I no longer need huge  sums."  She  grinned.  "Only  moderate
sums."
     "How much farther?" Luke asked suddenly.
     "It is still some distance," Xaverri said. "Are you tired, Jedi?"
     "I'm curious," Luke said.
     "Be patient, kid," Han said. Just like the old days, when Luke  had  been
restless and eager as well as green. In recent years,  he  had  developed  the
ability to fall into a preternatural calm. Han found it disturbing.
     They continued on through the garden maze, walking in silence.  The  path
through the bushes grew narrower, lower; Han had to stoop,  and  the  branches
scraped against Threepio's purple lacquer with short, high-pitched screeches.
     Han's back started to hurt, and the march no longer reminded him so  much
of the good old days.
     Finally, when he was about to give up and call for  a  rest,  the  tunnel
ended at the side of the translucent dome. Xaverri ducked through  an  opening
and disappeared. Han  followed,  stiffly.  Behind  him,  Luke's  robe  rustled
quietly against the ground as he stooped.
     "Wait, please, I do not bend well that way," Threepio  said.  He  clanked
against the edge of the dome material, scraped through, and joined them on the
other side. He clambered to his feet.
     Han peered into the  new  dome.  It  was  almost  as  dim  as  the  green
illumination of the leaf tunnel. But  the  eerie  greenness  had  possessed  a
quality of life and growth. Here the twilight was oppressive.
     Great gray stones loomed around them. The rocks perched on the edge of  a
cliff: the steep and partially collapsed side of a huge crater.
     Xaverri edged over the top of a great cracked  stone.  Han  slithered  up
beside her. From their vantage point they could see the whole dome. Its  floor
lay far below. A small complex of buildings occupied the center of the crater.
The buildings were gilt, and brightly lit: the only spot of light and color in
Han's view. The delicate lines  of  the  complex  traced  calligraphy  against
stone.
     Han wondered what the pattern might mean.
     Several rough paths led into the crater. On all of  them,  people  picked
their way across the desolate lava toward the  haven.  A  constant  stream  of
people from many worlds entered the compound, and no one was leaving.
     "That is our destination," Xaverri said.
     "What are we looking for? Why's it so special?"
     She shook her head and refused to answer. "If  you  do  not  see  it  for
yourself, you will not believe."
     Luke started forward, heading for a space between two rocks. Xaverri slid
quickly down from her perch. She barely touched his sleeve, then snatched  her
hand back. Luke had already stopped within the protective concealment  of  the
stones.
     Han jumped down beside them. "Kid, what's the matter?"
     Luke was pale and tense, his gaze far away. One hand rested on  the  grip
of his lightsaber...
     Threepio bent solicitously toward Luke. He laid one  long  purple  finger
against Luke's forehead. Luke  shook  his  head,  barely  distracted,  jerking
himself away from Threepio's touch.
     "I fear Master Luke has contracted some  ailment,"  Threepio  said.  "His
temperature is abnormally low. Perhaps some form of landfall disorder--"
     "Threepio," Luke said  patiently,  "your  sensor's  covered  with  purple
paint, that's all."
     Chagrined, Threepio inspected the tip of his finger.
     "But Threepio's right," Han said. "You look awful. What's wrong?"
     "I... I don't know," Luke said. "Something... there's something here, but
I've  never..."  He  started  away  again,  as  if  he  had  never  begun  the
conversation.
     "Jedi!" Xaverri said.
     Reluctantly, Luke glanced back.
     "Let me lead you," she said. "I am accepted. And there is an  easy  path,
farther along the rim... I would prefer no one else knew of this escape."
     Luke glanced between the stones, as if he might leap between  them,  slip
over the edge of the cliff, ignore the faint steep twisting path,  and  plunge
straight down.
     And he probably could do it, Han thought.
     "Very well," Luke said.

     Tigris answered Lord  Hethrir's  summons  to  his  receiveg  chamber.  He
carried the child Anakin, who slept more than any little one Tigris  had  ever
met.
     Hethrir had built his private receiveg chamber from the  finest  wood  of
all the old Empire. Body-wood, they called it. It resembled the flesh  of  the
people who had inhabited the forest, before the Emperor claimed the world.  To
his most favored officers he  had  dispensed  the  right  to  exploit  certain
resources. Hethrir's reward had been the license  to  export  body-wood.  Lord
Hethrir had begun  his  fortune  from  the  license.  But  he  used  the  wood
profligately for himself as well. The walls  and  floor  and  ceiling  of  the
chamber glowed with it.
     The surface of the  polished  body-wood  was  the  palest  pink.  Scarlet
streaks shot through it, gleaming with light, like cut and  polished  precious
stones. Tigris always thought the wood looked alive, and indeed  it  was  said
that the body-wood trees sustained a certain intelligence. It  was  said  that
they cried, when Hethrir cut them  down.  Tigris  almost  believed  that  they
cried. He knew their wood bled. He had the task, the honor, of cleaning up the
scarlet rivulets before they pooled on the floor and stained it.
     When will Lord  Hethrir  allow  me  to  do  something  important?  Tigris
wondered. Tigris shifted Anakin to a more comfortable position in  his  aching
arms.
     Tigris had been moved and impressed by the  promotion  ceremony,  but  he
resented being left out.
     He wondered when Lord Hethrir  would  sell  him,  along  with  the  other
inferior children. He could not even pass the first te/!  He  was  desperately
grateful that his lord had allowed him to stay this long.
     In the receiveg chamber, Lord Hethrir welcomed his guests. Lord Qaqquqqu,
Lady Ucce, and Lord Cnorec bowed low. Hethrir acknowledged their respect  with
a simple nod. He sat in a chair of gold and fur and satin pillows. He  glanced
at Tigris and gestured with his chin toward a small rug on  the  floor  beside
him.
     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--ffthe New Republic."
     All three guests bowed a third time. Tigris  watched  with  awe  as  Lord
Hethrir's ^ws, ^ws 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! B--" Lord Cnorec stopped himself, too late.
     ""But,"' Cnorec? "B"' 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
Empireffwas
     "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. his--bbn--yr-
-" 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. his--yr--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 receiveg 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 ^ws.
     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 Rebornffwas
     "To the Empire Rebornffwas
     "To the Empire Rebornffwas

     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 air-lock 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 viewscreens to the outside. The  room  was  close  and  stuffyou.
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--c 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."
     "I woke you up. I probably saved your life."
     "Who asked you to?" he said, his voice a low snarl.
     Taken aback, Leia paused to collect herself.
     I'm a diplomat, she thought. I can manage this.
     "I don't mind telling you my name," she said.
     She minded very much telling him her real name. She told  him  her  false
identity, the identity that owned Alderaan. It felt strange to call herself by
her nickname from childhood.
     "I'm Lelila, and this is my companion Geyyahab."
     She nodded toward Chewbacca, who gave  her  a  quizzical  look.  She  had
chosen for him a name from Wookiee mythology, from a story the twins loved  to
hear. But the character was not entirely heroic. Leia  wondered  if  Chewbacca
was offended  by  her  choice--or  if  it  were  religiously  offensive,  even
blasphemous, for her to give him a mythological alias.
     I don't know much about his people's religion, Leia realized.
     The Firrerreo sneered. "I do not care to tell you my name," he said. "But
her name is Rillao." The name sounded like a snarl, the  information  like  an
insult.
     Leia gestured toward the ceiling. "Please help me free her."
     "She's not my clan," he said. "I owe her nothing. I owe you nothing."
     "If I pay you, will you owe me?"
     "I have no use for money here."
     "What will it lose you, to help me?"
     "Nothing," he said. But he did not act.
     "What do you want?" Leia cried.
     "What are you?" he asked. "A  pirate?  Or  an  Imperial  flunky  sent  to
torment us?"
     "I'm neither," she said. "Do I look like  a  stormtrooper?  Did  you  see
troopers when you came down here?"
     He regarded her suspiciously. "I want my freedom," he said.
     "It's yours," she said instantly. "Please. Help us."
     His eyes narrowed till they  nearly  closed,  then  abruptly  he  made  a
decision and bent over the console  that  had  defeated  Artoo-Detoo.  He  was
familiar with its workings, and that made Leia uncomfortable. This cell in the
depths of the ship had no purpose other than punishment and  torture.  Perhaps
he was a collaborator. Perhaps the Empire  had  built  the  freighter  with  a
prison cell so some of the passengers could wield power over others.
     He stood back from the controls and glanced at Leia with a smirk. When he
looked over her shoulder, she followed his gaze.
     Rillao drifted slowly from the  ceiling.  The  webworks  stretched,  then
contracted, pulling away from her body, pulling out of her body. The  ends  of
the silver strands were dark with her blood.
     Chewbacca's growl was soft and low and angry  and  nearly  inaudible.  He
caught Rillao gently. She did not move.
     "Let's get her to--ffmy ship." Leia almost gave herself away by revealing
the name of Alderaan. It was too good a clue. She would have to give her  ship
an alias, too.

     Jaina flung herself into her study cubicle. She was sobbing too  hard  to
see the display. Even if she wanted to pay attention to it. Which she did not.
She wanted to be up in the canyon with Jacen. She wanted Lusa to come back.
     Jaina put her head down and cried.
     Vram stopped behind her. He jabbed at her  shoulder.  "Stop  crying!  Pay
attention! Sit up straight!"
     Jaina twisted away from him. She made herself stop crying. She wiped  her
eyes angrily on her sleeve.
     "Lord Hethrir wants you to answer these questions," he said. "Who was the
greatest leader in our history?"
     "My mama, of course," Jaina said.
     "You're wrong! You're so stupid. The Emperor was our greatest leader."
     Jaina stared at him in horror.
     "Who's going to restore the Empire?" Vram demanded.
     "No one!" Jaina cried.
     "You're wrong! Lord Hethrir will!" Vram said. "The Empire Rebornffwas
     "No!"
     Vram was hateful. Hethrir was  hateful.  They  were  all  hateful.  Jaina
sobbed, crying for Lusa andfor  Jacen  andfor  Anakin  and  Mr.  Chamberlain's
wyrwulf andfor Mama and Papa and Uncle Luke--not  because  she  believed  they
were dead, she did not, they couldn't be, but because they would  be  sad  and
worried and searching for her. And she cried for Winter and Mr.  Threepio  and
Chewbacca and Artoo-Detoo. And she cried for herself.
     "You're wrong!" Vram cried with glee. "You're wrong! You have  to  go  to
bed without your dinner. And it goes on your record!"
     She was so hungry that she almost stopped crying, but she  was  so  angry
about Lusa that she could not.
     "You're nasty!" she shouted. "How did you get to be so nasty?"
     Jaina kicked him in the shin.
     He yelled in pain. Another helper came running. They dragged Jaina out of
her cubicle and toward her sleep cell. She screamed and  kicked  and  wriggled
but none of the other children even looked at her. They hunched down in  their
places and stared at their displays.
     Vram slammed the door of her cell, shutting her into the darkness.
     Jaina sat on the cold hard floor--it had not turned soft  anywhere  yet--
and struggled to stop crying. She had to think, she had to figure out a way to
escape or send a message.
     Hethrir's promotion ceremony had scared her. She could practically  still
hear the Empire Youth shouting, "The Empire Rebornffwas
     I have to let Mama know about the Empire Reborn, Jaina thought.  Somehow.
I have to let her know about Hethrir. He sounds like one of the  evil  tyrants
Mama fought against, before I was even alive.
     Jaina wondered if the fight would have to happen all over again.
     She wiped away her furious tears.
     She took out her hidden multitool and held it in her hand. She opened  it
and felt her way to the door. A splinter scratched her finger. She  had  found
the place where she had begun to drill toward the latch.
     While the multitool chipped slowly away at the hard wood,  Jaina  thought
about how she might escape from Hethrir's compound. After she escaped from her
cell.
     Could I sneak past the dragon? It couldn't see me when it was  far  away.
If it was all the way at one side of  the  canyon  fence,  maybe  it  wouldn't
notice if I climbed the fence on the other side.
     Jaina really did not believe that would work. The dragon  was  almost  as
wide as the canyon mouth. Even if it was all the way at the other side, if  it
looked over its shoulder it would still see her.
     Maybe I could climb the canyon wall. But  it's  pretty  steep,  and  it's
pretty smooth, and I guess the Proctors would see me as soon as I got  to  the
top...
     Maybe I could steal a spaceship, and program it for home--
     If she could escape and find Hethrir's skiff.
     The trouble was, she did not know  where  she  was,  or  where  home  was
compared to where she was, or even where Munto Codru was. Maybe the ship would
know.
     And maybe it wouldn't.
     Maybe it would be better to try to send a message.
     If I can sneak out of here, somehow, Jaina  thought,  then  maybe  I  can
figure out where they send their messages from. Then I could sneak back in...
     She felt the wood where she had been drilling. She had made a very  small
and very shallow hole. The multitool was so hot she could barely hold it.
     She sighed. This was going to be hard. She wished she had Jacen  to  talk
to. She wished she could reach past Hethrir's control over her abilities. Then
she could open the door, find Hethrir's communications, whatever she wanted.
     Can I still do anything? she wondered. Anything at all?
     She imagined the molecules of  air  all  around  her.  She  imagined  one
molecule. She imagined it moving, faster and faster.  She  felt  the  molecule
respond.
     Hethrir's power did not react. She knew it was around her, she could feel
its attention off in the distance. But it did not notice the tiny  motion  she
created.
     She added another molecule, another, doubling and redoubling  the  number
she affected. Soon a small handful of air vibrated with her energy. Its warmth
took the chill from her cell.
     The swirl of air glowed  red,  then  yellow,  spreading  light  into  the
corners of Jaina's cell.
     Jaina laughed with relief and joy.

     Chapter
     6

     People from many worlds crowded around Han and  his  companions  as  they
made their way toward the graceful gilt buildings.  Han  thought  he  saw  the
ghostling who had approached him in the welcome dome.
     The effect of calligraphy, of esoteric hieroglyphics,  was  magnified  by
the entry to the structure. An intricate design traced secrets in gold  across
the mirrored facade. The building's wings curved around to form  a  sheltered,
quiet courtyard. The visitors gathered just outside, then entered  the  silent
space singly or in small groups.
     Xaverri calmly waited their turn.  Han  passed  the  time  by  trying  to
identify as many homeworlds as he could. After several dozen, there were still
individuals left over whose origin he could not guess.
     He nudged Threepio. "Where do those folks over there come from?"  He  did
not point; too many people in the Republic found pointing intolerably rude. He
nodded toward a multihumped stack of mobile seaweed. "And is it  a  group,  or
one person?"
     "Why, a group, of  course,  sir.  They  are  from  the  fourth  world  of
Markbee's Star, specifically, from--if I am not  mistaken--Zefflifflike.  That
is to say, from the shallow seas of the smaller southern continent--"
     One of the leafy mounds produced a bulging  bag,  twisted  one  end,  and
squeezed liquid from the bag in an arching spray  to  splash  itself  and  its
companions. Some of the droplets rained down on Han. He stepped back,  but  it
was only saltwater. The wet leaves of the Zefflifflike  glistened  blackly  in
the gold light of the building. A few leaves fluttered to the ground  and  lay
twitching.
     "How about them?" He  gestured  toward  a  second  group,  half  a  dozen
massive, low-to-the-ground ovoidal people with short, powerful legs  and  eyes
on thick flexible stalks.
     "They are," Threepio said.
     "Are what?"
     Threepio did not reply.
     "What?" Han asked.
     "I just told you, sir," Threepio  said.  "Oh.  I  beg  your  pardon.  The
language exists at a frequency below the limits  of  your  hearing.  It  is  a
function of the environment, which is extremely high gravity."
     "They're sick," Luke said softly.
     "No, Master Luke," Threepio said patiently, "they are speaking a language
that human ears--"
     "I don't mean them," Luke said. "I mean - - there's  somebody  in  almost
every group who's ill or injured."
     Paying more attention to types of people he was familiar with,  Han  soon
saw that Luke was right. The gathering took on a poignancy  that  he  had  not
previously percvd. Here a family  huddled  together,  protecting  a  child  or
parent or cross-cousin; there a clan group carried a stretcher that  supported
a moaning, palsied colleague.
     Han nodded at Luke, agreeing with his analysis.
     Luke doesn't look so hot himself, Han thought. What's happening  to  him?
He never gets sick...
     "You will understand soon," Xaverri said. Her expression was grim. "It is
our turn."
     She entered the courtyard. Han followed, with Luke at his side;  Threepio
brought up the rear.
     Silence surrounded them. The golden  calligraphy  on  the  front  of  the
building glimmered against the mirrored sheen of  the  wall.  The  perspective
changed as Han walked. The calligraphy moved and shifted and writhed, as if it
were still being written.
     They were alone in the courtyard. The quiet was eerie. Han  glanced  over
his shoulder, taken by the illusion that all the other people had disappeared.
They had not; they remained where he had left them, crowded up to the entrance
of the courtyard, waiting, speaking with quiet  excitement  among  themselves.
But their voices were inaudible.
     "Master Luke, I wonder, all things considered," Threepio said,  "shall  I
wait outside?"
     "If you prefer," Xaverri said. "But I  am  accepted.  There  will  be  no
danger to any of us."
     "Danger!" Han said. "Wait just a minute.  Who  said  anything  about  any
danger?"
     "No one," Xaverri said, amused. "I said there is no danger, if you follow
my lead."
     "But--"
     "I meant," Threepio said, "that this does not appear to be a place likely
to welcome... my kind."
     "All forms of sentience are welcome here," Xaverri said.
     "Even droids?"
     "Even droids."
     "Ah," Threepio said. "Somewhat unusual. Quite... enlightened."
     They passed beneath an archway at the  far  end  of  the  courtyard,  and
descended into bedlam.
     Inside, the awed gathering had transformed itself into  wailing,  begging
supplicants. They roiled in an undisciplined crowd  toward  the  back  of  the
wide, low theater, where a high golden altar loomed above them.
     "Waru, help us! Waru, heal my  child,  heal  my  egg-sister,  protect  my
hearth-friends from the curse laid upon them!"
     The pleas echoed in the  chamber.  Luke  grabbed  Han's  upper  arm.  His
fingers dug painfully into Han's biceps.
     "Hey, kid--"
     "Look," Luke said urgently.
     The altar moved.
     Han tensed. "What--? Where is that from, Threepio?"
     "I confess, sir, that despite my knowledge of all the worlds of  the  New
Republic, and many worlds outside it, I am unfamiliar with this being."
     "That is Waru," Xaverri said.
     The altar--the  being--rose  higher  with  a  clenching  contraction.  It
oriented itself toward them.
     "Approach me, Xaverri."
     The voice was rich and full and clear and very, very soft. It filled  the
chamber  with  a  whisper,  insinuating  itself  past  the  pleading  of   the
congregation. Xaverri stepped forward, and  the  crowd  parted  for  her.  Han
followed without thinking; all he knew  was  that  he  did  not  want  her  to
approach the strange being alone. He pulled himself free of Luke's restraining
hand.
     As Han neared the altar, he got a better look at Waru. It was  a  complex
construct of chased gold  shields.  But  beneath  the  shields,  visible  from
certain angles and at certain movements of the  being,  lay  a  slab  of  raw,
uncovered tissue, like chunks of meat. Fluid - - blood? - - glistened  between
the massive shields, oozed out, and fell by drops and fine  streams  onto  the
stage, where it coagulated into a crusted pool. The blood ran  off  the  stage
and formed stalactites that hung nearly to the floor of the auditorium.
     Xaverri stopped at the edge of the stage.
     "Thou art not alone, Xaverri," Waru whispered.
     "I am not alone, Waru."
     "Do they wish to be healed?" Waru sounded infinitely tired.
     "No, Waru. I have brought new students  to  study  thy  revelations,  and
learn thy truth, and appreciate thine existence. To give thee their devotion."
     Thou? Han thought. Oh, fine, what is this, some obscure  dialect--?  Thou
art, thou hast, thou wouldst... What did they just  say?  Thou  wouldst  hadst
beenst...? No, that's not right.
     Waru sighed. "I am very pleased. Only thou, Xaverri, hast ever offered me
a gift. All others plead for my gifts--and I am glad to give them! But..."
     "Thy generosity is the marvel of Crseih Station," Xaverri said.
     No one else responded to Waru's complaint.  It  was  as  if  the  being's
whisper reached only Xaverri and her friends. Come to think of it, Han had not
heard Waru speaking to anyone else. He had only heard Waru's whisper when  the
being addressed Xaverri directly.
     Good trick, Han thought. It has to be a trick--doesn't it? Unless... it's
what Luke is looking for.
     He glanced at Luke, but he could not tell whether this was the lost  Jedi
Luke sought. Luke's expression was intent, but he revealed no joy.
     The golden plates riffled, as sensuous and sleek as an animal's fur. They
contracted, and the veins between  them  closed  together.  Fluid--Ichor,  Han
thought, this is the first time I've ever seen anything that should  truly  be
called ichor--ran from beneath Waru's massive base, seeping out to form a new,
glistening  layer  around  it.  One  droplet  flowed  along  the  spike  of  a
stalactite, hung at the tip,  simultaneously  stretched  and  coagulated,  and
froze into a narrow, sharp edge at the end of the spike.
     As Waru's armor contracted, the being rose even  higher,  craning  toward
them. Han searched in vain for obvious organs of  sight,  hearing,  smell,  or
other sensation. But he could not even tell how Waru produced a voice.
     Maybe it percvs us as heat impressions, right on its skin, Han thought.
     Or maybe, he thought, it doesn't perceive us at all. Maybe it isn't  even
alive.
     "Thou hast brought me a new creature," Waru said to Xaverri. "I have seen
humans before - - oh, yes, many humans, humans  are  so  frail--but  not  this
other being." Waru leaned forward. The crusted ichor cracked and flaked  away,
revealing new edges of gold scales. "Who are you? What are you?"
     Xaverri drew See-Threepio forward. "This is my new acquaintance,  Purple-
Three. I thought perhaps thou hadst not met his like before."
     "Welcome, Purple-Three," Waru said.
     "Thank you, Mr. Waru," Threepio said. "I am most honored to be  permitted
into your presence."
     Han gave Threepio a lot of credit for picking up on  Waru's  use  of  the
standard you instead of the esoteric thou. The droid had noticed, as  Han  had
not, that Waru used thou for Xaverri alone.
     I would have put my foot in it, Han thought. Probably offended  the  hell
out of this critter. Why didn't Xaverri tell us--?
     "My name is only Waru," the  enormous  being  said,  its  voice  a  purr.
"Though some call me "teacher."' It is the only honorific I esteem."
     "Then I would be pleased to use it, if  you  will  accept  it  from  me,"
Threepio said. "I have studied many subjects, in many places. I am  an  expert
on  human-cyborg  relationships  and  am  fluent  in  six  million  forms   of
communication. I am always grateful for a teacher willing  to  share  esoteric
knowledge."
     Han found the heat and humidity oppressive. The coppery scent  of  Waru's
ichor prickled uncomfortably in his lungs. Beside  him,  Luke  stared  at  the
being with a fixed, hypnotized gaze.
     "Relax, kid." Han's voice was quiet, amused. "It's only a--"
     Xaverri shot him a quick, furious  warning  glance.  Luke  turned  slowly
toward him with an icy, inhuman glare, then returned his  attention  to  Waru.
Startled, Han shut up, but he finished the comment to himself: This is a scam,
he thought. It's the most elaborate one I've seen in a while, but it's still a
scam. If Luke and Ben Kenobi are anything to judge by, no  Jedi  would  behave
like this--and if Waru represented the dark side, Luke would know it.
     The best reaction I can give this thing is laughter.
     "Xaverri, honored student, wert thou able to study the texts I gave thee?
"
     "Yes, teacher," Xaverri said.
     "Of course thou didst comprehend the connection between the ego-flux  and
the universal backlight, but I wonder if thou didst make the  conceptual  leap
to the synergy of intellectual realization and quantum crystallization?"
     "I am embarrassed to admit that I had not,"  Xaverri  said,  "though  now
that thou hast shown me the path, I can see that the interaction is completely
inevitable."
     Han repressed a snort of annoyance and disbelief.
     Xaverri and Waru conversed in that manner for a few minutes, oblivious to
the crowd and the noise and the pleas for assistance. The wailing began to get
on Han's nerves. What he wanted to do was leap up on the stage  and  tell  all
these people to go home and see their doctors. He wanted to  ask  Xaverri  why
she kept flattering Waru. It shocked him  to  witness  her  deference  to  the
being.
     In the old days, she had never been susceptible to this  kind  of  fraud.
She knew too much about fraud to be taken in. She had  designed  some  similar
hoaxes herself, though she reserved the healer scam for particularly loathsome
Imperial officers. She had never failed  to  relieve  her  chosen  prey  of  a
considerable portion of their resources.
     Did she believe Waru's nonsense? If  she  did,  she  had  changed  beyond
recognition from the person Han used to know, changed far beyond the physical.
If she did not believe--then what were they doing here?
     Threepio observed  the  conversation  in  uncharacteristic  silence.  Han
frowned. Threepio's expression was impossible  to  read,  but  it  was  seldom
difficult to know what the  droid  thought  about  any  particular  situation.
Threepio would tell you. Or the droid would  dissemble  transparently.  For  a
diplomat, Threepio was one of the poorest liars Han had ever met.
     On the other hand, a lot of people found it flattering to know they  were
being lied to, if the lie was to soothe their feelings  or  acknowledge  their
status. Threepio was a master of that technique.
     Luke watched and listened with the same fixed and intense expression that
had possessed him as soon as he encountered Waru. Luke's reaction troubled Han
most of all.
     Waru completed a philosophical discourse on the state  of  the  universe,
which Han had long since lost track of.
     "And now," Waru said with every evidence  of  disappointment,  "I  cannot
further indulge myself in this enlightening conversation."
     Xaverri placed her hand on one of Waru's golden scales.  She  closed  her
eyes and fell silent and still. The  gold  scale  took  on  a  pink  glow  and
radiated gentle warmth around Xaverri's fingers. Luke  took  one  step  toward
her, lifting his hand. Han grabbed him and pulled him  back.  Luke  turned  on
him, snarling.
     With a startled curse, Han nearly dropped Luke's wrist. He wanted to walk
out of the assembly in disgust even if it meant  leaving  his  friends  to  be
bilked and shamed.
     "Don't be stupid!" Han whispered fiercely. "And don't presume  on  a  few
minutes' acquaintance!" He tightened his grip.
     Luke looked at Han's fingers clamped around his flesh and  squeezing  his
bones together. Intelligence leaked back into Luke's eyes. He made a leisurely
turning movement of his hand;  he  slipped  from  Han's  tight  grasp  without
apparent effort.
     "You're right," he said. His voice was tight. He turned his back  on  Han
and watched Xaverri and Waru, intently, hungrily.
     "I hate it when you do that," Han  muttered.  His  fingers  tingled,  not
because of any violence in Luke's motion, but because he had been  holding  so
tightly that his hand spasmed when Luke pulled free.
     The marks of Han's fingers remained, first white,  then  red,  on  Luke's
skin.
     Xaverri drew back from Waru. Her handprint glowed, then  faded  from  the
golden scale. A drop of ichor oozed from the scale's lower edge and fell  with
a sticky plop. Xaverri made a motion of obeisance toward Waru.
     The being's attention left them abruptly, like a release of pressure. Han
staggered one step forward, caught himself, and shrugged off the  odd  effect.
But he was curious about how the effect had been produced.
     Xaverri backed up. The roiling crowd surged ahead  of  her,  each  member
keening for Waru's recognition.
     Xaverri's knees buckled. Her collapse surprised Han so thoroughly that he
nearly let her fall. In all the years he had known her, in the old  days,  she
had never fainted, even at times of exhaustion or pain. Her stamina had always
amazed him. His first thought, as she fell, was that she must  be  sinking  to
the ground for some deliberate reason: she wanted to make another bow to Waru;
she had dropped something and had to retrieve it.
     Han jumped forward and caught her before she fell beneath trampling feet.
She trembled violently. Luke and Threepio closed in, forming a  small  circle.
Moving against the flow of the crowd, they pushed their way to the back of the
theater. Han plunged toward the door, but Xaverri struggled free.
     "Stay here!" she said. "I  am  all  right,  I  only--speaking  with  Waru
affects me for a moment. But you must see the ceremony."
     "Affects you?" Han said. "It knocked you flat. Let's get out of here!"
     The color began to return to  her  golden-tan  face,  and  her  shivering
ceased.
     "You must observe," she said again.
     "She's right," Luke said. "It's what we came here for."
     "All right," Han said unwillingly.
     It's all a fraud, he said to himself. But even frauds can be dangerous.
     They made their way to  the  very  back  of  the  auditorium.  The  floor
slanted, so they had a view over the crowd. On the stage, in the  frozen  pool
of ichor, Waru waited as one of the small groups of supplicants brought one of
their members into the teacher's presence. The Zefflifflike pressed one of the
leafy comrades to the top of their heap, then slid the individual forward till
it huddled on the ichor. Its color was  noticeably  paler  than  that  of  its
companions, a sickly yellow-green rather than shiny and blue-black. It shed  a
flutter of small wilted leaves whenever it moved.
     "Do you wish me to try to heal you, seeker?" Waru's voice,  no  longer  a
directed, private whisper, rumbled through the hall.
     The Zefflifflike responded with a flurry of sound, like leaves swirled in
water.
     "She says, "I entreat you to help me,"'" Threepio said.
     Now comes the scam, Han thought. Give Waru all your worldly goods--
     "Then I will try to help you," Waru said.
     Every sound in the auditorium ceased abruptly.  The  attention  of  every
being focused on Waru and Waru's patient.
     Waru leaned over the Zeffliffl. Several of the  golden  scales  liquefied
and splashed over the huddled Zefflifflike, covering it with a bright metallic
shell. Han watched closely, wishing he were at the front of the auditorium  so
he could figure out how Waru conceived that effect.
     Why'd you bring us all the way back  here,  Xaverri?  he  wondered.  [you
afraid for me to be too close?
     The metallic shell attached the Zefflifflike to  Waru  like  a  parasite,
like an exterior womb. The raw wound left where the scales had  melted  gushed
bloody ichor. The liquid  flowed  over  the  shell,  patterning  it  like  the
calligraphy on the facade of Waru's compound.  The  runnels  flowed  together,
creating a translucent chrysalis around the shell.
     At the foot of the stage, the Zefflifflike group huddled together,  their
leaves fluttering as if they were in a windstorm.
     The room grew still. All around Han, people were bowing their heads. Even
Xaverri, who had  never  bowed  her  head  to  anyone.  Stubbornly,  Han  kept
watching.
     Waru shuddered. The golden scales touched,  ringing  together  with  pure
clear tones, like bells enlivened by the wind.
     Han divided his feelings equally between admiration for the  effects  and
scorn for the gullibility of Waru's followers.
     The shuddering extended into the chrysalis. It trembled.  It  shook,  and
expanded.
     The solidified ichor exploded. Like silver dust, the fragments  hung  and
shivered in the air. Scars and scratches marred the  golden  shell.  It,  too,
shivered, then slowly opened like a flower, revealing the Zeffliffl.
     The gold petals drew back; Waru's body resorbed  them  and  reformed  the
melted scales. At Waru's base, the Zefflifflike lay quiet.
     Suddenly it shook itself like a wet puppy. Its groupmates  shrilled  with
excitement. Its leaves, green and dark with moisture, fanned open.
     "They say," Threepio whispered, "that their groupmate has  returned  from
the dead."
     The  healed  Zefflifflike  scrambled  down  and  disappeared  among   the
groupmates. The mass of beings backed away, twittering.
     The silence of the auditorium ended as every being at Waru's  feet  burst
into speech and song and light.
     "The Zefflifflike said thank you," Threepio said, speaking loudly  enough
for them all to hear, "and--"
     "And, "We will give you all our worldly goods,"'" Han said cynically.
     "No, sir, not at  all,"  Threepio  said.  "They  acclaim  Waru  as  their
benefactor. No mention of monetary recompense has been made."
     Han shrugged, unconvinced. "Recompense always gets mentioned,"  he  said.
"Eventually. Can we get out of here? The gratitude is making me sick."
     Xaverri turned away from him and walked out of the  auditorium.  After  a
moment of surprise, Han followed her. In the relative coolness and silence  of
the courtyard, welcome after the tumult of Waru's reception hall, he caught up
to her and touched her shoulder.
     "Xaverri--!"
     She shrugged him  off  and  plunged  through  the  gateway.  Outside  the
calligraphed arch, she spun on him.
     "Never speak, inside the courtyard. Never."
     "Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to blow your cover."
     Threepio joined them. "Master Han, Mistress Xaverri, is anything wrong?"
     "No," Han said. "I don't think so. I don't know. Except Luke's still back
there!"
     Han  plunged  through  the  archway  and  ran  through   the   courtyard,
unreasonably anxious considering Luke had been out of his sight  for  about  a
minute. Han pushed his way back into the auditorium. At first he did  not  see
Luke anywhere. His eyes were no longer accustomed  to  the  dimness,  and  the
noise and heat oppressed him.
     He looked at the place where they had all been. Luke  stood  right  where
Han had left him. The young Jedi stared at the stage, where Waru had  encysted
another supplicant.
     "Come on!" Han said. He grabbed Luke by the sleeve and dragged him bodily
out of the theater.
     Luke did not resist.
     Xaverri was walking away, already a couple  of  hundred  paces  down  the
trail to the main entry of the dome. Threepio hovered halfway between,  moving
a few steps toward Xaverri and calling her name plaintively,  then  returning.
When he saw Han and Luke, he stopped stock-st in relief, then hurried to  join
them.
     "She would not wait, Master Han," Threepio said. "I asked  her  politely,
but..." Threepio stopped, at a loss for ^ws.
     "You worry too much," Han said. "Purple-Three. Come on."
     Han led Luke past Threepio. Only when they had caught up to  Xaverri  did
he let Luke go. Han's brother-in-law had made no attempt to escape.  His  gaze
was distant, his expression blank.
     "Luke! What's wrong? Snap out of it! Xaverri, wait!"
     She complied, but her shoulders were stiff with anger.
     Luke raised his head. Suddenly he was back, his usual self.
     "Is Waru your lost Jedi?" Han demanded.
     "No," Luke said. "I don't think so... I don't know. I don't know what  it
is." He gazed into the distance. "I ought to be able to tell, to sense another
Jedi Master. But I can't." He took a deep breath.
     "Is it any kind of manifestation of the Force?" Han asked Luke.
     Luke hesitated, then shook his head. "I'm sure I'd know it if it were. It
isn't. It's... something else."
     He smiled, a  luminescent  smile  that  wiped  out  his  hesitation,  his
apprehension.
     "But it.was amazing," Luke said. "Wasn't it amazing?"
     Xaverri nodded. "Every time I see Waru do that, I cannot believe it.  But
I must."
     "I don't believe it," Han said. "If that thing isn't a  manifestation  of
the Force, what else could it be but a fraud? I can  think  of  six  different
ways Waru--whatever it is--cd bring  off  that  illusion.  Substitute  another
Zefflifflike for the sick one--"
     "But, sir," Threepio said, "the groupmates  would  not  have  accepted  a
substitute for their colleague. They would have reacted to an  impostor  quite
violently."
     Han shrugged. "So Waru paid them off."
     "The  reaction  cannot  be  bought,  sir,"  Threepio  said.  "It  is  not
conscious. It is comparable to an allergic response."
     Han flung up his arms  in  exasperation.  "Then  the  sick  one  was  the
impostor, or a mechanical device. Or they painted  the  healthy  one  seasick-
green and washed it off in the cocoon. It doesn't matter how they did it--what
matters is, they could have done it. Waru  didn't  need  supernatural  healing
powers to heal the Zefflifflike because the Zefflifflike  didn't  need  to  be
healed in the first place!"
     Xaverri folded her arms and stared thoughtfully at the ground.
     "Do you think I have completely lost my mind?" she asked, her tone cold.
     Her contempt goaded him.
     "Yeah, that would about cover it," he said.
     "I, Xaverri, the best creator of deceptions in the old Empire?"
     "We all change," he said. "Look, if somebody had a really fine scam,  one
even you couldn't figure out--then you'd be easy to fool. You're so good, it's
hard to imagine anyone better."
     "It is impossible," she said.
     Luke stared through the archway. Han feared he might have to  chase  Luke
down again to keep him from going back inside.
     "There's something," Luke said.
     "But not your lost Jedi."
     "Han, it isn't a fraud."
     "Luke is correct," Xaverri said.
     "Fine!" Han said. "I give up! Waru is for real,  which  means  you  don't
need me, because it isn't the Republic's business  to  interfere  in  people's
worship!" He started down the trail without another ^w.
     "Han!" Luke called. "Where are you going?"
     "On vacation," Han said. "I still have some vacation left!"
     Threepio hurried after him.
     "Master Han, if I may be so forward--"
     "What is it?"
     "Our resources are severely  depleted.  If  you  plan  to  gamble--and  I
certainly do not wish to imply that I believe you should not gamble, or that I
believe  there  is  anything  wrong  with  gambling,  or  that  there  is  any
possibility that you might lose--but if you plan to gamble... don't you  think
it would be for the best, merely as insurance of course, for you to leave some
of your previous winnings in my care? That way I  could  pay  our  outstanding
bill at the lodge. I noticed the lodge-keeper toting up  our  accounts  as  we
left today, and he fixed me with a positively poisonous glare!"
     Han pulled a wad of  credits  out  of  his  pocket  and  thrust  it  into
Threepio's fingers.
     "When you want some money, all you have to do is say, "Can  I  have  some
money?"'" Han said. He laughed, thinking about the  gaming  table,  the  cards
that he trusted to go his way. "Plenty more where that came from."
     He strode away.

     Leia and Chewbacca did what they could for Rillao, the injured Firrerreo.
Alderaan's  medical  equipment  expressed  confusion  when  Leia   asked   for
information. The Firrerreo were basically human, but something more, something
different. The equipment recommended food that might not be toxic.  It  failed
to suggest a safe antibiotic, but, then,  Rillao's  injuries  had  not  become
infected. She had astonishing powers of recuperation.  Once  the  webbing  had
withdrawn, her skin began to regenerate and the  hairline  lacerations  closed
quickly enough for Leia to watch, with astonishment, as the healing  occurred.
Silver threads of scar tissue formed across Rillao's golden skin.
     But Rillao showed no signs of waking.
     "What else should we do?" Leia asked the nameless Firrerreo.
     He shrugged, barely moving his shoulders. "She'll live, Lelila, or she'll
die." He sprawled in a chair, perfectly relaxed.
     "Don't you care, either way?"
     "She isn't my clan."
     Leia let the subject drop. She brushed Rillao's striped  hair  away  from
her thin, fierce face and drew a blanket up around her shoulders.
     "Do your people sleep lying down?" she asked the nameless Firrerreo.
     "How else?" he said, surprised into replying without an argument.
     "How else, indeed," Leia said. She laid one hand gently on  Artoo-Detoo's
carapace. "Will you watch her for me?"
     Artoo-Detoo beeped softly.
     "Thank you," Leia said to the droid. She  turned  to  Chewbacca  and  the
nameless Firrerreo. "Are you hungry?"
     Chewbacca roared, with relief and hunger.
     "Me, too," Leia said.
     She was ravenous. She had had nothing since the chamberlain's cookies and
drugged tea. She led the way to Alderaan's tiny galley. She  wondered  if  the
Firrerreo would refuse to accept food, but he sniffed the  bowl  of  stew  she
gave him--the analysis had suggested his metabolism required  high  levels  of
protein--tasted a bite, and dug in hungrily. He held the bowl near  his  mouth
and delicately plucked the meat up in his first two fingers.
     Chewbacca fixed himself a bowl of stew and garnished it  with  salty  dry
seaweed and a dribble of forest honey.
     The dinner conversation was nonexistent, until Leia scraped up  the  last
of her stew with a spoon. As she watched the Firrerreo drink  the  sauce  from
his second serving, she thought, He accepted my food because he doesn't accept
any obligation. He didn't ask me for food. If I asked him for gratitude,  he'd
say, No one asked you to offer me anything. I owe you nothing.
     "Why do you hate Rillao?" Leia asked.
     He licked his lips and glanced at the stew pot, but thought  again  about
overloading his system with a third helping.
     "She was in the chamber!" His languor vanished and he leaned toward Leia,
angry and intense. "She must be the reason we were exiled,  Lelila.  Why  else
would the Empire sentence her to spend the trip under torture?"
     "Random cruelty." Leia wondered why  the  Firrerreo  used  her  name--her
alias--s often. No matter.  It  helped  her  remember  what  she  was  calling
herself.
     "No. No. The Empire is cruel, Lelila, but  it  directs  its  cruelty.  To
create fear, to extort, to increase its power--"
     "The Empire is gone," Leia said. "It's finished. Defeated.  You're  free,
you and your people."
     If she expected gratitude or even happiness, she was disappointed.
     "Defeated!" He thumped his fist on the table. "You said you could give me
my freedom--but, Lelila, it wasn't yours to give!"
     "I said you were free," Leia said. "That's all I said." If  she  admitted
who she was, she could claim some responsibility for his freedom. Instead, she
would remain Lelila.
     He growled low in his throat. Chewbacca growled, too.
     But Leia remained calm. She smiled at the unnamed one.
     "No one asked me for an explanation," she said. "You only  asked  me  for
your freedom."
     He snorted in disgust, but his contempt lessened, to be replaced with  an
expression of grudging respect. To her astonishment, he rose and bowed.
     Then he walked away.
     "Where are you going, unnamed one?" Leia asked.
     Without replying--Why did I expect him to reply?  Leia  thought--he  left
Alderaan's galley.
     She followed him; she caught up to him. He was a head  taller  than  she,
sleek and potentially powerful despite his gauntness. He continued toward  the
airlock without acknowledging her presence.
     "Are you going to wake up your people, unnamed one?"
     A few paces farther along, he said, "Here, Lelila? To what purpose?"
     "To regain their strength--"
     "The ship will return their strength while they sleep."
     his--and to decide what to do now that you're free!"
     "Should we return to our home, Lelila?" he snarled.
     He knows, Leia thought. She wondered if the Empire  troops  had  awakened
him and tormented him with the news of his world's death.
     "No," she said. "I'm sorry. It's quarantined. No one can land, and live..
. nothing can ever leave the planet."
     He stopped short at the airlock door. His shoulders  slumped.  Leia  took
his elbow, steadying him. The sound he made was the cry  of  a  grief-stricken
predator.
     And Leia knew how he felt.
     "I'm sorry," Leia said again. "I'm so sorry."
     He turned upon her. "Lelila, did you have a hand in poisoning my world?"
     "No! I--I played a small part in bringing down the people who ordered the
poisoning."
     "The Starcrash Brigade?"
     The Starcrash Brigade had been one of the Empire's elite assault teams.
     "Not the Brigade--the Empire." She looked him in the eye.  "It  destroyed
my world, too."
     He narrowed his wide black eyes. "Ah. Alderaan, yes,  Lelila,  I  thought
perhaps you were from Alderaan."
     The airlock door slid open. The unnamed one strode from Alderaan into the
freighter's echoing entry dock. Leia grabbed his wrist, but snatched back  her
hand when she felt his muscles tighten.
     "What are you going to do?" she asked.
     "Continue."
     "But you don't have to! Everyone's free, now, within the New Republic."
     "The Empire bequeathed us a world. We will continue."
     "But it might be--y don't know--what about the other ships stranded here?
"
     He leaned toward her. In the low gravity,  the  motion  spread  his  hair
around his head like a brindled halo.
     "The other ships have nothing to do  with  me,"  he  said.  "And  I  have
nothing to do with them. Do with them as you will,  Lelila.  As  for  the  new
world... we are adventurous people. We will take our chances."
     "You'll be traveling at sublight," Leia said. "You'll  be  traveling  for
years! The Republic could give you hyperdrive, or find a world for you  within
its bounds--"
     "To what purpose?" he asked again. "We will  not  notice  the  length  of
time. We will not care. We will be asleep. If all memory  of  the  Empire  has
vanished when we wake--s much the better. If your Republic has  vanished  when
we wake - - we will not care."
     Leia stepped back. Nothing she could say could change his mind, she  knew
that. He was doing what was right by his own sense  of  duty.  She  could  not
force him to accept hers.
     "Good-bye, then," she said. "And good luck."
     "May you always be shielded from the wind, Lelila."
     "Why do you keep repeating my name?" Leia asked.
     "For power," he said. "Lelila."
     The airlock door began to slide shut.
     "But I gain only a little power from your false name, Princess Leia,"  he
said. "You wear it uncomfortably." As the airlock door closed, he  said,  "And
your disguise is pathetic."

     Han returned to the city domes and sauntered down the street.  He  wanted
some more of the local ale, and he wanted another card game where  Chance  and
Hazard topped the deck. But he also wanted a different tavern from the one  he
had been in last night.
     "Good evening, small human."
     He spun around, and once more bumped his nose against the  chest  of  the
enhanced human. She laughed down at him, but Han got the  distinct  impression
that her laughter was superficial.
     "You left our game far too soon," she said. "The cards began to  turn  my
way, later on in the evening."
     "Congratulations!" Han said heartily. "I'm glad to hear your night wasn't
a complete loss."
     She leaned toward him, and the heavy, entangled locks of her  white  hair
swung down on either side of her face.
     "Nor will tonight be," she said. "You are obviously well  born  and  well
mannered, so you will, give me the chance to make myself even with you."
     "I wasn't planning on cards tonight," Han said. "Nope, no  cards,  I  was
just taking the air, just came out for a glass of ale."
     "Ale will run as plentifully as water," she said. She took his upper  arm
in her huge hand. Her fingers met around his biceps.
     "I mean, I've already had my glass of ale," he said. "Hit my limit--"
     He tried to twist his arm from her grip, as Luke had  twisted  from  his.
The enhanced human lifted his arm, lifted his whole  body.  Han  stretched  on
tiptoe to stay in contact with the ground.
     "You may drink or not, as you choose," the enhanced human said. "But  you
will play."
     "Well, okay, sure, why didn't you say you had your heart set on a  game?"
Han said. "Fine, let's go. Would you do me a favor? Either put me down or pick
me up. This is very uncomfortable."
     He thought she might sling him over her shoulder and cart him  away.  She
could certainly do it if she chose. Finally she let him down. But she did  not
let him loose. She urged him down the street, holding his arm tight enough  to
bruise.
     "I didn't get your name last night," Han said in  a  companionable  tone.
"What did you say it was? And by the way, you want to loosen up a little?"
     "I did not say," she said, "and you did not ask, but my name is Celestial
Serenity. No, I do not want to loosen up at all."
     He glanced up at her. She smiled down at him and walked  faster,  pushing
him along.

     Jaina ate her breakfast.
     She was so hungry she hardly even tasted the rancid grease  that  floated
on top of the thin porridge. When she finished, her stomach still growled. She
could smell the ripe fruit and honey and fresh hot  bread  that  the  Proctors
passed among themselves.
     Jaina's mouth watered. She watched the Proctors at the highest table  and
the helpers at the middle table breakfasting on  good  food,  more  than  they
could eat. They laughed and shouted and threw half-eaten food on the floor  to
go to waste, and leaned way back in their chairs with their feet on the table.
     The children, at the low tables, had to wait  to  be  excused  until  the
Proctors were all finished.
     It isn't fair! she thought.
     Jaina could see Jacen, but only the top of his head. He was all  the  way
on the other side of the cafeteria. She wished she could  talk  to  him  about
what she had learned she could do. And she wished she could tell him  she  had
drilled half-way through the door of her cell to the lock. Then she had  stuck
the sawdust together with spit, Ick, and pressed it back into the hole in  the
door so no one would notice.
     Vram sat at the middle table with the other helpers.  He  wolfed  down  a
piece of fruit, some bread, and a whole bunch  of  cookies.  He  picked  up  a
honey-cake and waved it at the other children. At Jaina.  Honey  dripped  down
Vram's fingers. He licked it off.
     Jaina looked down so she would not have to see him.
     On the table in front of her, a bug, a tiny myrmin, tiptoed past  on  its
hair-thin legs.
     It isn't really a myrmin, Jaina thought. It has ten legs instead of  just
six, and an extra set of feelers! But it sort of looks like  a  myrmin.  Jacen
would know what it is. I bet it's hungry.
     Jaina scraped the last tiny grain of porridge out of her bowl. She put it
near the myrmin. The myrmin walked around it, tapped it with its feelers,  and
struggled to lift it and move it and carry it.
     I hope that tastes better to myrmins than to children, Jaina thought.
     The myrmin balanced the sand-grain-sized bit of porridge and climbed down
over the edge of the table.
     The myrmin gave Jaina an idea.
     Sand got tracked in from the playfield. It lay in the cracks between  the
stone tiles on the floor, and even in the spaces where the planks of the table
touched. Jaina experimented with moving a grain.
     I'll pretend I'm a myrmin, she thought. Not a little girl, not  Jaina.  I
don't have any Jedi abilities--I'm just a myrmin! Who would pay any  attention
to a myrmin?
     She pushed the sand grain. It skittered across the table  and  fell  over
the edge.
     Jaina hunched her shoulders, expecting Hethrir's cold wet blanket to fall
around her and cut her off from the world.
     Nothing happened. It was just like last night with the air molecules.
     Jaina reached for sand grains on the Proctors'  table.  She  found  none.
Someone cleaned their table better. But plenty of sand lay on the platform  at
their feet. Jaina played with a few grains. They spiraled up into the air.  No
one noticed.
     The Head Proctor picked up a section of fruit. Jaina dropped the  scatter
of sand grains on it. The Proctor tossed it down to Vram. For a second,  Jaina
thought the Proctor had noticed the sand, but then she decided not because  he
did not look mad and he did not look for more sand on the sticky bun he  chose
from a steaming basket.
     Vram popped the fruit into his mouth and gobbled it without even noticing
the sand.
     Jaina felt a little sorry for him. But only a little.
     If somebody gave me a piece of fruit right now, she thought,  I  probably
wouldn't notice sand on it, either.
     The second time she moved sand, she dropped it onto  the  Head  Proctor's
sticky bun. Jaina felt like she had done something very, very  bad,  to  spoil
good food like that.
     The Proctor pulled off a piece of the soft, sweet bread and put it in his
mouth. He chewed.
     His expression changed. Jaina  felt  glad.  Not  happy-glad.  Jaina  felt
satisfied-glad.
     She lifted another handful of sand and scattered it across the  Proctors'
table, so it fell on all their plates.
     The Head Proctor spit out his mouthful of sticky bun.
     That's disgusting! Jaina thought. He didn't even cover his mouth with his
napkin.
     "Grake!" the Head Proctor shouted.
     Several of the other Proctors spit out their food,  too,  and  soon  they
were looking at it and poking it, even the half-chewed bits,  and  talking  to
each other and arguing. Jaina watched them, pretending not to.  Soon  she  did
not even have to pretend, because all the other children were watching, too.
     "Grake! Get out here!"
     The door beside the Proctors' stage slammed open,  bouncing  against  the
wall.
     A huge being thundered through the doorway. Jaina  flinched--she  thought
the dragon had broken  into  the  bunker--then  looked  again,  surprised  and
excited.
     The being in the wide white apron was a Veubg, from Gbu,  a  high-gravity
world. Gbu was the last world before Munto Codru that Mama  had  visited.  The
New Republic delegation had not been able to go to the surface, most of  them,
of course, because the gravity would have squashed them. But the  Veubgri  had
traveled to the meeting satellite. They had liked Jaina and Jacen and  Anakin.
Jaina remembered the soft touch of their  tendrils  on  her  hair.  Her  mouth
watered at the memory of their sweets. She wanted to jump up and wave  at  the
Veubg.
     But Grake had never seen Jaina or her brothers. She would  not  recognize
them. She would not care.
     "Why are you yelling at  me,  little  blue-clothes?"  Grake  climbed  the
stairs, light-footed and powerful,  tendrils  coiled  around  a  heavy  wooden
spatula, and stopped behind the center chair. "I work all day for you, and you
only yell at me, you are a very unappreciative person."
     "There's sand in the food!" the Head Proctor shouted. "Is this your  idea
of a joke?"
     "A joke? Sand--in my food?" Grake smacked the Head Proctor on the side of
the head with the spatula.
     The Head Proctor fell off his chair and scrambled up, staring, stunned.
     Jaina gasped. She wanted to hide her eyes.  She  was  sure  the  Proctors
would hurt Grake--use the Force to make her explode! And it would  be  Jaina's
fault.
     But nothing like that happened.
     Maybe they can't, Jaina thought. Maybe all they can do with the Force  is
just barely turn on their lightsabers, or maybe Hethrir even  cheated  to  let
them do that!
     Grake leaped to the end of the stage and whacked the Proctor who  lounged
in the last seat. He scrambled to keep  his  balance,  lurching  sideways  and
forward to grab the edge of the table.
     "Take your feet off the table!" The Veubg leaped again, all the way  from
one end of the stage to the other, knocking the spatula against  the  head  of
each Proctor in turn. "You complain of sand in my food--when you put your feet
on the dinner table? You have the manners of dragons!"
     The Veubg landed  soundlessly--then  stamped  all  six  feet.  The  whole
Proctors' table bounced a handsbreadth in the air and forward.
     Jaina giggled. She could not help it. She tried to stop and  so  did  all
the other children. She knew they would get in trouble for  laughing  and  she
knew she would be the cause of it. But she could not  help  it.  And  how  she
wished Lusa were here to see it too!
     "Stop it!" the Head Proctor shouted.
     Jaina could not tell whether he meant her or Grake.
     Grake snatched handsful of fruit from the serving dishes and  flung  them
over the second table  and  out  to  the  children.  Everybody  shrieked  with
excitement and grabbed for the fruit.
     Jaina caught a chunk of melon and stuffed it into her mouth. It  was  the
most delicious thing she had ever tasted. It made tears spring  to  her  eyes.
She was glad she had not poured sand on the serving dishes, but she would have
eaten the fruit anyway.
     "Sand! In my food!" Grake flung the contents of a whole serving  bowl  of
cookies over the children's heads. Everyone was running around and jumping  up
to catch the sweets and snatching them off the floor before they got trampled.
     Jaina snatched more sand, even though  she  really  wanted  a  cookie.  A
little cloud of sand grains floated up from the tiles. She dropped  the  sharp
grains down the necks of the Proctors' uniforms.  The  sand  fell  down  their
backs and into their pants.
     At first they did not  notice  because  they  were  all  on  their  feet,
yelling. Then the Head Proctor drew  his  lightsaber.  Its  blade  hummed  and
glowed.
     Jaina jumped up, horrified. Uncle Luke always said that when she became a
Jedi Knight, she should never draw her blade, except for practice, unless  she
was willing to kill.
     Jaina had never even touched a lightsaber.
     Grake did not give the Proctor the chance to kill her.  She  leaped  down
the stage, down the steps, and through the doorway  even  before  the  Proctor
could strike, if he was going to. Jaina had never seen anyone move so fast.
     The Proctors shouted a few last insults. The Head Proctor  put  away  his
lightsaber. Jaina did not know if he would have killed Grake,  or  if  he  was
only threatening. Or joking. She did not think they should  threaten  or  joke
with a lightsaber.
     The Proctors shouted after Grake, and pushed each other back  and  forth,
and finally sat down again.
     None of them put their feet on the table.
     "Be quiet!" the Head Proctor yelled at the children.  "Sit  down  and  be
quiet or we'll come put you in your places."
     Jaina sat back down and so did the other children. They  might  as  well,
because all the extra food was gone. Everybody was looking around,  hoping  to
find one last tart grape or sweet crumb.
     The Proctors sat uneasily at their table, not wanting to  dismiss  dinner
because that would mean they had failed at something. But they did not eat any
more of the sandy food.
     The Head Proctor frowned and fidgeted and pulled his  uniform  away  from
his sides and shook it. Jaina stared down at the  table.  If  she  started  to
laugh before anybody else noticed what was happening, the Proctors would  know
it was all her fault.
     Jaina wished a grape had fallen on the table in front of her so she could
eat it. But the table was empty. She carefully looked past  the  edge  of  the
table. The Proctors were talking together now. They sounded  mad.  Jaina  made
herself not smile. Instead she jiggled the sand in the Proctors' uniforms, and
looked for more sand.
     She had used it all up. The floor tiles, even the  cracks  between  them,
were clean.
     Except for little black spots moving toward  the  Proctors'  table.  They
formed a line across the floor like the foam on waves.
     The myrmins scurried up the front of the Proctors' stage. As the Proctors
squirmed and itched and hissed impatiently at  the  Head  Proctor  to  dismiss
dinner, the myrmins ran over their shoes and into their pants legs.
     Jaina could not resist anymore. She looked across  the  cafeteria  toward
her brother. She even stood up so she could see him. At the same  time,  Jacen
stood up and looked at her. He grinned  quickly.  They  both  sat  down  again
before anyone could catch them.
     Jaina knew Jacen had asked the myrmins to climb up the stage.
     One of the Proctors leaped to his feet with a shout. He thought  he  just
had sand in his pants. Then the sand  bit  him.  The  other  Proctors  started
jumping up and yelling and scratching. And stamping, stamping on the myrmins.
     "Oh!" Jaina whispered. "Oh--poor myrmins, thank you,  myrmins."  Some  of
them were running away now, disappearing into cracks and hiding. But  some  of
them were being killed.
     "We're sorry, myrmins," she said, sincerely, the way Chewbacca  spoke  to
insects he sometimes killed, even if he never  meant  to,  when  he  harvested
forest honey. She risked another glance across the hall at Jacen.
     Stricken, he started to cry. He cried when Chewbacca  apologized  to  the
forest insects, too. But this time it was his  fault  that  the  myrmins  were
being hurt.
     Suddenly the myrmins all disappeared. Jaina felt  the  flare  of  Jacen's
abilities, whisking the little creatures out of danger.
     Hethrir's cold wet invisible blanket fell down around Jaina- -  It's  not
fair, she thought, I didn't do anything... well,  not  much,  anyway--and  she
knew the same thing had happened to  Jacen.  She  gasped,  and  shivered,  and
struggled up out of her seat, and stumbled across the cafeteria to Jacen.
     They hugged each other. It was such a good hug. It almost made  Hethrir's
blanket go away. Or anyway it made it feel only cool and damp instead of  cold
and wet.
     "Jacen, Jacen, they took Anakin, they took Lusa--"
     That was the first time she thought that Hethrir might have taken  Anakin
away forever, the way he took Lusa. Where else could their brother be?
     "We have to d something," she whispered.
     "All you children get back to  your  studies!"  the  Head  Proctor  said,
scratching the side of his  leg.  The  myrmins  were  gone,  but  their  bites
remained!
     "Thank you, little myrmins," Jaina whispered.
     "Thank you, little myrmins," Jacen said too, "I'm s-sorry!"
     "Back to your studies!"
     The children straggled into an uneven line.  They  could  not  keep  from
giggling. Jaina stayed near  Jacen.  Maybe  no  one  would  notice  they  were
together.
     "Do something about that line!" the Head Proctor said to his underlings.
     The other Proctors all looked at him like they thought he was crazy.
     And they ignored him and ran out of the  cafeteria.  Some  of  them  were
already unfastening their uniforms before they got out of the room.
     The Head Proctor glared down at the children.  And  then  he  winced  and
started to scratch, in a place it was very naughty to scratch in  public,  and
turned around and strode out  of  the  room.  As  soon  as  he  vanished,  his
footsteps speeded up. He ran away.

     Chapter
     7

     The children were alone in the cafeteria.
     "Let's go out!" Jaina said. She did not know what she could do  once  she
was outside, but she felt desperate to get away from this cold hard building.
     She and Jacen ran down the long dark corridor.  All  the  other  children
followed them. They burst out into the light, as the tiny  planet's  tiny  sun
leaped into the sky. The little planet  spun  fast,  so  its  days  were  much
shorter than regular days. The children shouted and ran  and  cheered  in  the
warmth.
     Jaina and Jacen held hands  and  leaned  backward  and  spun  around  and
around, just like the little planet. Jaina whipped her  hair  back  and  forth
till she felt dizzy. She  and  Jacen  fell  down  in  the  sand,  panting  and
laughing.
     Jaina jumped up again and Jacen jumped up beside her.
     "Jaina, Jaina, you're okay!"
     "Jacen, I missed you so much! I don't know where Anakin is!"
     "If we could reach for him--" Jacen said.
     his--we might be able to find him. B--"
     his--we have to run far away from that  blanket!"  Jacen  finished  their
shared thought. Jaina was glad he thought about it the same way she  did,  but
that did not help them figure out how to get away from it.
     "We have to get past the dragon," Jaina said.
     "There's no dragon," Jacen said scornfully. "That's just to scare us." He
marched straight toward the canyon fence, straight into the blank space.
     Jaina ran after him. The dragon jumped out of the  sand  and  roared  and
bounced against the fence. Jaina grabbed Jacen and pulled him  back  till  the
dragon could not see them anymore. She did not have  to  pull  him  very  hard
because he was scared too, but he was also amazed.
     The dragon forgot it had seen them and snuffled around the  edge  of  the
fence looking for a soft warm patch of sand.
     "Wow," Jacen whispered.
     "Maybe I could jump up and down and wave and--" She  was  thinking  Jacen
could run around behind and climb the fence. But then she would still be stuck
inside.
     "Maybe I could tame her," Jacen said. "And we could ride her away!"
     Jaina had no idea how Jacen knew it was  a  Mistress  Dragon  and  not  a
Mister Dragon. But he was always right about this sort of stuff.
     "Ride her?" Jaina said, entranced.
     Then Jacen's lips trembled. "But maybe the Proctors would  hurt  her  the
way they hurt the myrmins."
     "How could they hurt a dragon?" Jaina asked.
     "With their lightsabers!"
     "They'd be too scared! I bet they wouldn't even get close to her."
     "With a blaster, then," Jacen said.
     "Oh. Yeah."
     "Maybe we could distract her," Jacen said thoughtfully.
     "We better do it fast," Jaina said.
     "I need something to throw," Jacen said. He looked around but  there  was
just sand.
     The dragon lumbered to the fence and rubbed  her  nubbly-scaled  shoulder
against the wire mesh, closing her eyes and groaning happily.
     If Jaina could use her abilities, she could easily distract  the  dragon.
Together with Jacen, they might even be able to stop  the  dragon.  But  Jaina
thought that would be a lot to try to do, without Uncle Luke's help.
     "I know!" Jaina pulled her multitool out of her pocket.
     Jacen grabbed for it eagerly.
     "No, wait!" Jaina snatched it back. "Don't throw it." She opened  up  the
lens and caught the light and flashed it on the ground in front of the dragon.
     "Isn't she pretty?" Jacen said.
     When the dragon opened her eyes, she saw the concentrated point of  light
from Jaina's lens. She snorted and lowered her head. Jaina gave the  multitool
to Jacen. He was better with critters than she was.
     He wiggled the light near the dragon's front paws. The dragon put her paw
on the place where the light was. Then she had to put her other paw on top  of
her first paw, and still the light was not covered. She pulled her  first  paw
out from under her second paw and lost  her  balance.  She  rolled  completely
over, snortling and wriggling. Then she jumped up and looked  around  for  the
light.
     Jacen moved it around for her to chase.  She  jumped  forward  after  it,
shaking the ground when she  landed,  raising  great  sprays  of  sand.  Jaina
laughed with delight.
     By now all the other children had gathered  behind  Jaina  and  Jacen  to
watch the dragon play.
     Jacen danced the light  before  the  dragon,  who  gallumphed  after  it,
pouncing to try to catch it. Jacen skipped the light  up  the  cliffside  that
projected beyond the fence. The dragon scratched the rock with her front feet,
ripping loose bits of stone. She roared joyously. She lashed her tail.
     All the time, Jacen  kept  moving  closer  to  the  fence,  crossing  the
undisturbed ground till he was right up against the thick  metal  mesh.  Jaina
followed him. The other children stayed back, still frightened of the dragon.
     "Hey, dragon," Jacen said softly. "Hey, Mistress Dragon." He wiggled  the
light down the cliff again, and the dragon followed. The  light  crept  toward
the fence.
     The dragon followed.
     Jacen brought the spark of sunlight right up next  to  the  fence.  Jaina
caught her breath. Her heart beat very fast.
     The dragon's snout pressed against the fence. Her big teeth stuck out  of
her mouth and she drooled in the sand. Her tongue  flicked,  flicked,  flicked
between her lips. Her eyes were the size of Jaina's fists, big and  gold.  The
dragon blinked her heavy beaded eyelids. Her hot breath ruffled the sand where
the spot of light lay.
     Jacen was having trouble keeping the light near the  dragon  because  the
sun was already falling in the sky.
     As the spot of light faded, Jacen put his hand through the  fence.  Jaina
gasped. Jacen touched the  dragon's  great  eyebrow,  and  rubbed  her  smooth
scales.
     "There, Mistress Dragon,"  Jacen  said.  He  rubbed  harder.  The  dragon
pressed against his hand, and made a low, rumbling, pleasant  snorting  sound.
The dragon did not mind that she could no longer play with the light.
     "She likes you," Jaina whispered.
     "She's all alone," Jacen said. "She's lonely, she's a little dragon,  she
wants someone to play with."
     "Hey! You children!"
     The dragon jerked her head  up,  startled  by  the  shout.  Jaina  turned
around. The Head Proctor stood  at  the  head  of  the  stairwell.  The  other
children scattered away into the twilight.
     The dragon roared. The fence rang as she rose up and crashed against  it.
Jacen snatched his hand away from the fence, and  he  and  Jaina  ran  to  the
playfield. Jacen pressed the multitool into Jaina's hand, and she  hid  it  in
her pocket.
     The Head Proctor laughed at them.
     "Now you'll believe in the dragon, I think," he said. "You  children  all
line up! You've been very bad. I told you to get back to your studies."
     "We couldn't hear you, sir," Jaina said  respectfully.  "We  thought  you
said to go outside."
     He glared at her. He looked very uncomfortable. He had swelling red bites
on his wrists and his neck. He kept moving inside his uniform as if he  wanted
to scratch. Jaina looked him straight in the eye without laughing, even though
she wanted to laugh.
     "That's right, sir," Jacen said.  "I  thought  I  heard  you  say  to  go
outside, and I was much closer to you than my sister!"
     "That's right, sir," one of the other children said.
     The Head Proctor was wearing a rumpled uniform with a dirty smudge across
one arm, and all his medals pinned on crooked.
     I bet he didn't do his laundry when he was supposed to! Jaina thought.  I
bet he lets it pile up all over the floor of his  room,  and  he  didn't  have
anything clean to put on when the myrmins and the sand got in his clothes.
     Jaina felt very grateful to Winter, who always encouraged Jaina and Jacen
to pick up after themselves. She had even shown them how to do  their  laundry
if they needed to, if the laundry droid wasn't working or forgot how you liked
your clothes ironed.
     "Get in line," the Head Proctor said. All the  other  children  lined  up
behind Jaina and Jacen.
     The Proctors marched the children back inside. Jaina sighed. They had not
escaped, and now they would have to spend all day  staring  at  the  horrible,
dull displays that said how wonderful everything would be  when  Hethrir  made
himself Emperor.
     Probably Lord Hethrir would come and lecture them, too. She was scared of
that. He would probably know that she had caused all the trouble.
     Jaina yearned for her classes back home. Sometimes  she  and  Jacen  read
stories to Winter or to Papa and Mama. Sometimes they made up  stories!  Jaina
was learning number theory and she loved it, it was  so  beautiful.  On  Mundo
Codru, Jacen had been studying first aid with Dr. Hyos and  her  child.  Jaina
bet Jacen was as bored with these dumb displays as she was. She  bet  all  the
children were bored.
     Instead of taking the children to the study desks,  the  Proctors  herded
them back to their rooms. Most of the children groaned.
     "Be quiet!" the Head Proctor shouted. "Your discipline is dreadful!  Lord
Hethrir will never choose any of you as his helpers at this rate."
     The children fell silent. Jaina realized she should  have  groaned,  too,
but the truth was that she no longer feared the dark  of  her  cell.  She  was
overjoyed that she would have a few hours, maybe all the  way  until  tomorrow
morning, by herself, to work and plan.
     "You'll spend the day in bed," the Head Proctor said. "So that  tomorrow,
you'll appreciate the opportunity Lord Hethrir gives you to learn."
     He opened Jaina's door and pushed her inside and slammed the door  closed
after her.
     Bits of sawdust scattered to the floor. But  the  Head  Proctor  had  not
noticed that Jaina had been drilling the wood.
     And Lord Hethrir had not come to lecture them or inspect them.
     Finally, outside Jaina's cell, the faint sounds of closing doors and  the
voices of the Proctors and the sounds of their boots on the floor stopped.
     Jaina rubbed some molecules of air together and created a faint light  to
work with. She brushed the last of the sawdust away  from  the  hole  she  had
made, pulled out her multitool, and began to drill again.

     For several hours, the Firrerre passenger  freighter  hovered  in  space,
coming alive. The first thing it did, long before it reached full  power,  was
to disengage itself from Alderaan.
     Leia took her ship out of range of the freighter's propulsion field.
     "Good luck," she said, transmitting to the nameless Firrerreo.
     He did not reply. The freighter hovered in space,  gathering  itself  for
its lonely voyage. Even if Leia could do any more to help the  Firrerre  ship,
its inhabitants did not want her aid.
     Leia checked on Rillao, who remained  asleep.  But  Artoo-Detoo  and  the
medical equipment thought her body was regaining its strength.
     "Thank you for watching her," Leia said to Artoo-Detoo.
     Chewbacca came in and looked mournfully at the sleeping Firrerreo.
     "What are we going to do?" Leia said. "This is a dead end! The  trail  is
gone." She tried again, reaching out desperately all around her for any  trace
of her children.
     Rillao's pain had blasted the trail out of existence.
     The kidnappers tortured her, Leia thought.  The  nameless  Firrerreo  was
wrong: Rillao wasn't left here by the Empire at all. The  kidnappers  tortured
her so no one could follow them!
     Unless... they're the same people.
     That would make sense, Leia thought. And it would explain how  they  knew
where to find the passenger freighters. But it  doesn't  give  me  any  better
clues to finding them.
     Chewbacca put one giant hand on her shoulder.  The  fur  of  his  fingers
tickled Leia's cheek. His plaintive groan conveyed his sympathy and his grief.
Leia's family was his family, his Honor Family. He had  chosen  to  share  his
life with the people she loved. She could not remain angry at him.
     "The Firrerreo was right about one thing!" Leia said. "Our disguise is no
disguise at all. We'll never get anywhere if everyone  knows  we're  Leia  and
Chewbacca. And if we're up against Imperial loyalists--come on!"
     She took Chewbacca to her cabin and pulled out all the cosmetics  in  the
dressing-table drawer. Chewbacca looked at them quizzically.
     "You didn't think my eyelids were this color  naturally,  did  you?"  she
asked. "Didn't you notice the color changes sometimes?"
     He snorted.
     "No, my skin doesn't camouflage itself!" Leia said.
     As she spoke, she pulled the pins from her hair and  unbraided  the  long
plait. Chewbacca watched with astonishment.
     I so seldom take my hair down, she thought. Hardly  anyone  has  seen  me
with my hair down in years... except Han.
     She had thought, over the years, of cutting her hair, but  the  idea  was
too radical. On Alderaan, adults grew their hair  long  and  usually  kept  it
bound.
     Feeling  reckless,  Leia  brushed  her  hair  loose  and  free  over  her
shoulders. She stood up. Her hair  spilled  almost  to  her  knees.  She  kept
brushing it, till it parted down the center and hung on  either  side  of  her
face and draped down over her breasts. It tended to fall across her  eyes,  so
she looked out through a curtain.
     All the better, she thought. All the better to hide me with.
     She rummaged through the bottles and packets. Some she had  bought  on  a
whim and never even tried. She kept them on her ship because her ship was  her
place for whims and fancies.
     Leia remembered the first time she had taken Han  out  on  Alderaan.  She
shook the stirring memory away. Now was no time for such memories.
     Several packets of color-crawlers lay in her hand.
     "Aren't you tired of being chestnut all the time, Chewbacca?"  she  said.
She tore open a package of black and a package of silver, mixed them together,
and tossed them at Chewbacca. He blew out his breath in surprise,  reached  up
as if to brush them off, then looked at them curiously.
     The color-crawlers picked their way over and across and through his  fur,
leaving intermittent trails of black and silver behind them. Chewbacca plucked
one up, delicately, let it crawl along his finger, and  watched  it  streak  a
patch of chestnut hair with silver. The hair on his chest had already begun to
mottle with silver and black.
     Amused, the Wookiee let the color-crawlers have their way with his fur.
     "Soon you'll just be one more brindled Wookiee," Leia  said.  "Now.  What
about me?"
     Chewbacca chose several different greens and handed them to her.
     "I look terrible in green," Leia said. "I  can't  imagine  why  I  bought
those." She chose, instead, several shades of  ordinary  brown  and  let  them
loose in her hair.
     I can't imagine why I bought these colors, either, she  thought.  I  gave
Chewbacca the best shades. Oh, well.
     She chose one package of very dark green and opened it into her hair.
     Chewbacca whuffled with approval.
     I'm going to look so boring, Leia thought.
     But I want to be invisible, Leia reminded herself. There's no way to make
Chewbacca invisible. I only have to make him n-Chewbacca. And I have  to  make
sure no one notices me.
     She was glad Artoo-Detoo was a common sort of droid, so she did not  have
to disguise him, too.
     She envied Han his beard. Such an  easy  way  to  hide  one's  face.  She
considered disguising herself as a man, but only for a moment.
     In stories, she said to herself, princesses always disguise themselves as
princes. But princesses in stories never have any hips. They  never  have  any
breasts. No. I'd look like a woman in disguise; I'd only draw more attention.
     Better to be invisible.
     Chewbacca gazed at his changing fur with every evidence  of  fascination.
But then he sighed, deeply, woefully. His sigh echoed in the  empty  space  in
Leia's heart where she could not find any perception of her children.
     "We can't be Leia and Chewbacca anymore," she said.
     Chewbacca raised his  head  slowly.  His  eyes  were  dark  and  sad  and
questioning.
     "We have to be Lelila and Geyyahab--we have to be Lelila and somebody, if
you don't want to be Geyyahab you can choose another name."
     Chewbacca--Geyyahab--indicated that he accepted her choice of names,  but
did not understand the necessity.
     "Whoever stole the children meant it as a strike against me," Leia  said.
"And against you and Han and Luke. The kidnappers will expect us to come after
them. They'll be watching for us. Setting a trap. I think the only  way  we'll
defeat them is with surprise."
     Chewbacca whined at her quizzically.
     "No," Leia said, in despair. "I don't know who they are.  Or  where  they
went." But they must be remnants of the fallen Empire, she thought.  Who  else
could hate me enough to attack me through my children?
     She grabbed the most lurid vial of eye-paint from the clutter on her bed.
She wrenched the vial open and slashed the purple paint  across  her  eyelids,
under her eyes, like the kohl of desert fighters. She highlighted her forehead
and her cheeks with gold.
     "I'll find out," she said. "Maybe Rillao knows who--who hurt her. But  if
she doesn't, I'll wake up every passenger on every freighter, if  I  have  to.
Someone must know who they are and what they plan. And where to look for them.
"
     She looked in the mirror. Her hair hung around her face, half hiding her.
Her eyes peered out, intense and dark and wild with purple. The  paint's  gold
and ruby enhancers glittered and  shifted.  She  looked  less  like  a  desert
fighter than a saloon dancer.
     It doesn't matter, she said to herself. All that matters is, I don't look
like Leia anymore. From now on, I'm Lelila.
     Artoo-Detoo buzzed fast over the threshold, hesitated, and hooted as  its
sensors took in the changes in its biological companions. As soon as the droid
recognized them, it reversed and vanished again.
     Lelila the bounty hunter jumped up and ran after the droid.  Behind  her,
Geyyahab her client followed along, the change in his fur nearly complete.

     Han had to admit that as far as he could tell, the game had been  honest.
Of course, as far as he could tell, Waru  was  legit,  too,  and  he  did  not
believe Waru either.
     He plodded down the street toward the lodge,  reeking  of  six  kinds  of
smoke, his head aching. He wished he had drunk another glass of local ale;  he
might feel better. He thought the stuff had magical healing powers.
     "Just like Waru," he muttered.
     He reached the lodge. The proprietor popped  up  and  greeted  him  in  a
friendly manner.
     Threepio must have paid our bill, Han thought. Wonder  what  our  cordial
host will say tomorrow when we ask for an extension... and don't pay for it?
     He climbed the steps, tripping only once,  and  counted  doors  carefully
till he came to his  own.  It  opened  for  him.  The  eerie  glow  of  Luke's
lightsaber flowed over his feet and across the carpet.
     Han quickly straightened his shirt, combed his hair and  his  beard  with
his fingers, and strolled casually inside. The blade of the saber  hummed  and
disappeared. Luke sat in the corner, exactly as he had the night before.
     "Hi, Luke," Han said, pretending to be much more cheerful than he felt.
     "We have to talk," Luke said. "Xaverri and I, we went  back  to  the--the
ceremony. Han, there's no mistaking what we saw--what you saw."
     Unable to maintain his pose, Han flung himself on his bed and covered his
face with the pillow. His head ached fiercely.
     "Master Hanffwas Threepio's feet  clattered  metallically  on  the  floor
tiles. "I paid our bills. Thank you very much! I will have other  expenses  to
pay, in the morning, perhaps before you arise, and I wondered--"
     "I'll give it to you tomorrow," Han said.
     "But I had thought to go shopping early. [I to lay  in  some  provisions,
that would save my human companions from the expense of eating in restaurants-
-"
     "We're on vacation! Half the fun  of  being  on  vacation  is  eating  in
restaurants!" Han tried to remember when the last time was that he had  eaten.
Have I been subsisting on local ale? he thought. The stuff is even better than
I thought.
     his--and it would allow me to serve you breakfast in bed."
     "Can we talk about it tomorrow?" Han said. "I really need some sleep."
     "Did you lose all the money?" Luke asked.
     Han flung himself up. The pillow fell off his face and flopped  onto  the
floor.
     "No." He shrugged, and grinned. "Not all of it."
     "Oh, Master Han," Threepio said. "How am I to go shopping in the morning,
if you lost all our money?"
     "I didn't lose all of it," Han said. "I can get more. I just  had  a  bad
evening. Relax. Now can I get some sleep?"
     "No," Luke said. "Dammit, Han, wake up!"
     "How can I wake up when you haven't given me a chance to go to sleep yet?
"
     The blade of Luke's lightsaber shivered into  being.  The  ghostly  green
light filled the room. It brightened, oddly, to pure white; its low  hum  rose
to a shriek. Han shouted in protest.
     Luke quickly turned off the lightsaber and slipped the handle beneath his
robe.
     "What was that?" Han asked. He was wide awake.
     "I don't--nothing.  It's  all  right."  He  sounded  uncharacteristically
startled. "Han, this Waru... if we could persuade this being to come back with
us, we could make a tremendous difference in the Republic. The Jedi--and  your
legions, of course--protect the peace. Waru could  directly  improve  people's
lives."
     "Waru isn't a Jedi--for certain?"
     "No. I mean... I'm not getting any of the perceptions I ought  to  feel."
He leaned forward, intent. "When your kids were born, I knew, right away, that
they belonged among us. Especially Anakin. When I first saw him, and he looked
straight at me--" Luke exhaled loudly. "If Waru were Jedi, I don't  think  I'd
make a mistake." He interlaced his fingers, opened his hands,  stared  at  his
palms. "But maybe Waru is connected to the Force,  by  some  means  we  aren't
aware of. Some means I'm not aware of." He pulled his hands apart and clenched
them into fists. "I just don't know! And I've got to find out."
     "Okay, okay, take it easy." Han rubbed his face.  He  was  so  sleepy  he
could hardly keep his attention  on  what  Luke  was  saying,  despite  Luke's
urgency.
     "Xaverri said she thought Waru was dangerous. A danger to  the  Republic,
she said. And now you want to take him--it--the being--back to  the  heart  of
our government?"
     "Waru has attracted a lot of followers here. They could form  a  powerful
faction. Wouldn't it be best to cooperate, right from the beginning?"
     Han chuckled. "You don't usually sound like a  politician."  Han  doubted
that Luke cared one way or the other if Waru's followers formed an  opposition
to Leia's government. But the young Jedi was fascinated with what he percvd as
remarkable abilities; he obviously wanted Waru where he could keep an  eye  on
the being, and perhaps even learn from him.
     Han still had no idea why Xaverri thought Waru was dangerous.
     Han produced one of his last coins, as if he had brought it out  of  thin
air.
     Luke smiled slightly. "Not bad."
     "I told you, more where this came from." Han made it disappear again.
     Threepio approached. "How were you able to do that?"
     Han produced the coin from Threepio's mouth.
     Threepio's eyes changed. "Do that again, if you please, Master Han."
     Han complied.
     "Ah," Threepio said. "Exceedingly dexterous."
     "What'd you do?" Han asked. "Slow it down?"
     "Indeed I did, Master Han."
     "Did you watch Waru that way?"
     "I regret that I did not, sir,"  Threepio  replied  to  Han.  "I  was  so
intrigued by what Mistress Xaverri had brought us to see, it did not occur  to
me."
     "Where is Xaverri, anyway?" Han asked. "Did she go home?"
     "She stayed back at the compound," Luke said. "She wanted to--"
     "You left her there?"
     "Sure."
     Han grabbed his boots from the floor where he had just  thrown  them  and
wrestled them back on.
     "She's lived here for years," Luke said reasonably. "She's been attending
Waru's meetings since they began. She knows how to take care of herself."
     "You said yourself, something weird is going on--"
     "And you said it was a fraud!"
     "Just because something's a fraud doesn't mean it  isn't  dangerous.  You
saw how Xaverri reacted yesterday." He hunted  around  for  his  jacket,  then
realized he had never taken it off.
     Han Solo ran out the door.

     Rillao lay very still beneath the shroud of medical equipment.  Only  her
eyes moved. Her gaze flicked  over  everything  in  the  room,  searching  for
weaknesses, searching for escape.  A  moaning  growl  shuddered  deep  in  her
throat.
     Lelila stood in the doorway, regarding the Firrerreo dispassionately.
     Compassion was wasted on the nameless Firrerreo, Lelila thought. Besides,
I can't afford compassion.
     She waited till Rillao's gaze found her.
     Lelila moved forward deliberately, and stopped a pace away from  Rillao's
bedside. Rillao glared at her.
     "I saved you," Lelila said.
     "Who asked you to?" Rillao's voice was hoarse and rough.
     "I saved you from torture, Rillao," Lelila said. She adopted  the  speech
habits of the unnamed Firrerreo who used names to gain  power.  "I  freed  you
from the web, I took you from the passenger freighter, I  brought  you  to  my
ship, and I healed you. Rillao."
     Rillao's expression changed. Apprehension replaced some of the arrogance.
     "You own my name," she said. "Do you also own my body?"
     "Perhaps I did, for a moment," Lelila said. "But I give it back to you."
     "Magnanimous of you," Rillao said. She glanced around the cabin, with its
understated elegance and its up-to-date medical equipment. "You are too  rich,
I suppose, to worry about the profit."
     "Profit?" Lelila said.
     Rillao stared at her, disbelieving. She pushed herself up on her  elbows,
shrugging away the medical equipment's sensors. Her striped  hair  snarled  in
sweaty tangles. The medical equipment, noting her recovery, pulled up  to  the
ceiling to protect itself.
     "The freighter was taken from its route," Rillao said.  "It  was  hidden,
far off trade routes. If you aren't a slaver, how did you find  it?  What  are
you doing here?"
     Lelila's knees went weak. She locked them, or she would have fallen.  She
felt herself go cold and pale, and she was glad her hair nearly hid her  face.
She wished she had put on even more makeup. Behind  her,  Geyyahab  roared  in
surprise and fury. Lelila reached back, grabbed his  hand,  and  silenced  him
with a squeeze of warning.
     Slavery had  existed  under  the  Empire.  But  the  Republic  ended  the
practice. The government she served had sought out the  people  bound  by  the
ugly Imperial laws. They were free. The  Empire  no  longer  existed  to  sell
political prisoners into slavery, to steal their children and sell them.
     There.were no slavers to steal Anakin and Jaina and Jacen!
     "How long have you been here?" Lelila asked suddenly. "How long  did  you
sleep?"
     "I never slept," Rillao whispered. "I was  not  one  of  the  freighter's
original passengers."
     "But did you know the Empire--"
     "I was brought here five years ago," Rillao said.
     his--is defeated? Oh. You must. But the Republic stopped the slave trade!
"
     "Some exist who  are  content  to  allow  that  belief.  It  suits  their
purposes, to steal people in secret."
     Chewbacca--Geyyahab!  Leia  reminded  herself,  Geyyahab  and  Lelilaff--
wrapped his huge hand around her upper arm. She leaned gratefully against  his
strength. But he, too, trembled.
     Rillao stretched her right hand toward  Lelila.  A  deep,  badly  healed,
patterned scar disfigured her palm. A slave mark. Lelila had seen  scars  like
that before, on the hands of people requesting medical treatment to have  them
removed. Before they asked for anything else, they asked  to  have  the  scars
removed.
     Lelila wondered if the brindled chestnut hand on her arm had also borne a
slave mark.
     "That's all in the past," Lelila said. "My equipment can't take the  scar
away, but as soon as we get back to civilization--"
     Rillao closed her hand, folding her long slender fingers flat against her
palm. There was nothing of a fist about her motion, but a move of concealment,
protection.
     "No," she said. "I have reason to keep that scar a while longer."
     She pushed herself to her knees on the bunk,  lurching  clumsily  in  her
weakness.
     "How did you find this place?" she demanded.
     The most important commodity Lelila and Rillao had between them to  trade
was information. Lelila decided to spend some of her currency.
     "I followed a ship here."
     The bedclothes shredded in Rillao's clenched hands.
     "Did you kill it?" she said, her voice suddenly empty. "Did you kill  the
ship?"
     "Of course not!" Lelila exclaimed. "Lie down, Rillao. You're too weak  to
get up."
     "Did you--"
     "Lie down! And I'll tell you what happened."
     Reluctantly, Rillao lay back on the bunk. She pulled the shredded blanket
with her, fraying its torn edge with her fingers.
     "I followed the ship here."
     "Through hyperspace? That's impossible!"
     "I have a method, Rillao." It pained Leia to see Rillao flinch every time
her name was spoken, but Lelila the bounty hunter took some comfort in  having
the upper hand. "Don't question me too closely."
     "You saw the ship?"
     "I did not. It was too far ahead of me. It came, and went."
     "But you can trail it!"
     "No. My method was... disturbed." She could not  say  that  Rillao's  own
pain had created the disturbance. The Firrerreo might guess Leia's  abilities.
"The trail is gone."
     Rillao slumped back. The moaning growl returned, but stopped abruptly  as
Rillao struggled to control herself.
     "Do you know where the ship went?" Lelila asked.
     Rillao shook her head. "It could have gone anywhere. Some places are more
likely than others: where slavers, and others,  hide,  and  wait,  and  gather
their resources, and plan for the Empire Reborn."
     "The Empire Reborn?" Leia scowled. "More deluded supremacists!"
     Neither Leia of the New Republic nor Lelila the bounty hunter  understood
why anyone would maintain loyalty to the old Empire, after its  defeat,  after
the revelations of its atrocities. But, then, neither of them  understood  why
Rillao wanted to keep her slave mark, either.
     "The adherents of the Empire Reborn are powerful and wealthy.  They  have
sworn a blood oath of secrecy and devotion." Rillao named several worlds where
followers held power.
     All the names surprised Lelila.
     "And Munto Codru as well?" she asked.
     "Munto Codru is a backwater," Rillao said, shrugging  a  dismissal.  "And
far too independent. Munto Codru was never amenable to the Empire.  No  one  I
ever heard of cared to hide on Munto Codru."
     Leia put aside her concern about the Empire Reborn. Time to deal with it,
after the children were safe. She had no attention to spare for anything else.
     "Why did you think I'd killed the ship?" Lelila asked.
     "Its owners have many enemies."
     "Including you, I'd think," Lelila said.
     Lelila the bounty hunter had no children trapped aboard  that  ship.  She
had no reason to shudder when she thought: How many people might want to  kill
it? Eventually, someone will succeed.
     "Why did it trouble you so, Rillao, that I might have killed it?"
     Rillao stared in silence at the shredded bits of blanket in her hands.
     "Answer me, Rillao," Lelila said.
     "My son is on the slaver ship!" Her voice  broke.  She  wailed,  with  an
eerie keening of desperate grief that lifted the hair at the back of  Lelila's
neck.
     Lelila glanced back and up at Geyyahab. He blinked at her  with  infinite
sadness, brushed past her into the cabin, and sat on the deck beside  Rillao's
bunk. He placed his huge brindled hand over Rillao's scarred one.
     Lelila wanted to go to her, too, to embrace her  and  reassure  her.  But
that was too much her other identity. Lelila the bounty hunter remained aloof.
     She waited till Rillao's wail faded. Rillao's grief remained too  intense
to shut out. Geyyahab patted Rillao, crooning a purr  that  Lelila  had  never
heard from a Wookiee before.
     "Rillao," Lelila said, when both the Firrerreo and the Wookiee had fallen
silent.
     Rillao raised her head and looked her straight in the eye.
     "We'll find him," Lelila said. "Your son. When I catch up to  that  ship,
we'll find him. But you know more about the slavers. You must help  me  figure
out where to go to catch them."

     Han was badly winded by the time he reached Waru's dome, even taking  the
shorter public route.
     Too much generaling, Han thought, and not enough work.
     The field outside Waru's temple was  deserted.  Han  paused  beneath  the
filigree of the entry arch. For all he knew, it  said  "No  admission  allowed
after the service has begun."
     After the performance has begun is more like it, Han thought.
     He did not care if the sign said "No admission." He plunged  through  the
arch and across the courtyard. Instead of experiencing the silence as  serene,
Han felt oppressed by the brooding quiet.
     "I'll talk in here if I want to!" Han said out loud.
     He slipped into the theater.
     The auditorium was filled, as before, with supplicants. They  filled  the
seats, the resting pillows, and the aisles. Han had no way to get down to  the
front, where Waru held court. Standing on tiptoe, Han tried to look  over  the
heads and backs and carapaces of the assembly.  Finally  he  spotted  Xaverri,
standing near Waru's base. As far as he could tell, she was all right,  though
he did not much like the way she stood  with  her  head  down,  her  shoulders
slumped.
     If she collapses again, Han thought... What will I do? What can I do?
     He scanned the huge room, searching for another way to reach  the  stage.
But the auditorium was dangerously crowded.
     Waru had accepted another subject for healing: an Ithorian family.
     "Do you wish me to try to heal you, seeker?" Waru said.
     Waru's voice filled the auditorium. Inclined  to  find  everything  about
Waru  suspicious,  Han  noted  the  difference   between   Xaverri's   private
conversation with  the  being  and  the  public  voice  that  drew  everyone's
attention more firmly to the ceremony.
     "Then I will try to help you," Waru said.
     Han snorted, then wiped the contemptuous expression from his  face  as  a
huge leathery being turned slowly to loom over him, gazing down with irritated
distraction.
     "Just a little allergy," Han said.
     The being waved its ears and returned its attention to Waru.
     Han could not reach the foot of the stage. The crowd was impassable.  Han
tried to keep an eye on Xaverri, for all the good it would  do;  at  the  same
time he watched Waru's performance and tried to figure out the illusion.
     A subfamily of Ithorians approached  the  altar.  The  quintet  of  tall,
crooknecked beings carried a blanket-wrapped companion to Waru. The tallest of
the Ithorians opened the blanket,  revealing  a  youth,  painfully  thin.  Its
intelligent eyes blazed  at  the  ends  of  its  hammer-shaped  head,  and  it
struggled to remain upright. The adult family members petted it and  whispered
to the youth, perhaps promising that they would soon  return  to  their  herd-
city, and helped the child lie down  on  Waru's  altar.  Their  stereo  voices
warbled strangely in the theater.
     The youth was pathetically weak. The family gave it into Waru's care  and
stepped back.
     As before, the gold scales liquefied, flowed, and covered Waru's patient.
Ichor dripped around the cocoon  and  solidified.  Light  glowed  through  the
translucent covering.
     But after that, everything changed.
     Waru  shuddered  violently,  crying  out.  The   cry   rose   and   fell,
simultaneously: it climbed to a piercing shriek and descended  to  a  rumbling
roar. The high pitch screamed in Han's hearing, then vanished above his range.
He felt as if his brain were being pierced by sound waves. At the  same  time,
the low roar became an unsettling vibration. The walls reverberated at  a  low
pitch that shook Han's bones.
     It sounded, to Han, like a great cat growling in  satisfaction  over  its
prey.
     The supplicants cried out in a horrified, keening wail, and fell  to  the
floor before Waru, covering their eyes.  Only  Han  was  left  standing.  Even
Xaverri knelt at the base of the altar, her head down.
     Waru shuddered.
     But this ritual was different. Han strained to see, but  he  was  certain
Waru had changed the procedure. Instead of expanding, the chrysalis  clenched,
as if it were squeezing the Ithorian youth.
     Waru sighed.
     The chrysalis exploded. Like  the  embers  from  a  forest  fire  out  of
control, whipped by a screaming wind, brilliant sparks  whirled  up  from  the
altar. The whirlpool of fire spiraled through the hall.  Sweat  burst  out  on
Han's forehead. The air became hot and oppressive.
     Han watched in horror.
     Waru's scales fluttered, and smoothed.
     On the altar, the Ithorian youth lay  in  a  collapsed  pile  of  awkward
limbs. The youth's family huddled in  a  heap,  holding  each  other,  crying,
afraid to look up.
     "I regret," Waru said. "I regret. I cannot always  succeed.  Perhaps  you
waited too long to ask my help, or perhaps your offspring's time had come."
     The Ithorian family climbed  uncertainly  to  their  feet,  holding  each
other, silent.
     "We honor you, Waru." Speaking  Basic,  the  shortest  of  the  Ithorians
blinked sadly. The Ithorian's voice fell to a ragged whisper. "We honor you."
     "I have exhausted myself," Waru said. "I must rest."  The  golden  scales
contracted together, closing the ichor-producing veins.
     Acquiescing to Waru's demand, the Ithorian family wrapped  its  offspring
in the blanket, now a shroud, and picked its way from the  altar  through  the
crowd. The people made way for them, then followed them out of the theater.
     Han pressed himself against the rear wall of the theater. Sweat  sparkled
and prickled in his vision. He closed his eyes, trying to blot out what he had
seen. People brushed past him, and finally the hall was silent.
     "Come with me, Solo," Xaverri said.
     He opened his eyes. She stroked his arm, gently, soothing him; he  stared
at her. Horror possessed him. He could not speak.  He  could  barely  breathe.
Xaverri wrapped her fingers around his, and led him silently from the theater.
     Behind them Waru hulked, and slept.
     Xaverri and Han walked in silence through the courtyard. Even after  they
passed beneath the arch, they did not speak.
     Luke ran toward them across the field, his robes flying. Threepio hurried
after him, falling behind with every step.
     Luke stopped in front of Han and grabbed him by the shoulders.
     "What happened? Are you all right?"
     "Waru... I don't know. I'm all right, but..." Han  drew  a  deep  breath,
trying to collect himself.
     "I felt--I don't know, a disturbance--" Luke let Han go and  rocked  back
on his heels and raked his fingers through his hair. "What's going on, Han?  I
feel like I'm standing on quicksand, and I can't find solid ground."
     "Somebody died," Han said softly. "A kid. Come on, let's go back  to  the
lodge."
     Without a ^w, Luke and Threepio--Threepio, without a ^w! - -  turned  and
joined them.
     Han trudged up the path, with leaden feet.
     When they were out of sight of Waru's dome, Xaverri  drew  Han  from  the
trail. She took his hands and looked into his eyes. He tried to shut her  out.
He did not want to think about what he had seen.
     "Now," she said, "do you understand why  I  think  Waru  is  true...  and
dangerous?"
     "Yes," Han said, his voice as hoarse as if he had been screaming.
     The Ithorian family had given the youth into Waru's care.
     And Waru had killed it. Killed it, and pretended effort and weakness  and
exhaustion in its benefit.
     But I saw Waru crush that child, Han thought, and I couldn't  do  a  damn
thing about it.
     Han had heard Waru's growl of satisfaction as the Ithorian  youth's  life
passed into Waru's power.
     "Yes," Han said. "Now I understand."

     Chapter
     8

     Rillao's strength returned quickly. She sat up in her bed, eating stew as
the unnamed one had: picking out the chunks of meat  with  her  fingers,  then
drinking the sauce when the meat was gone. Beside the wide  port,  Lelila  and
Geyyahab sat with her and planned a strategy. Outside the ship,  the  hijacked
ships orbited each other in a complicated dance, against a brilliant  backdrop
of stars.
     Rillao watched the ship of the Firrerreo through the porthole.
     "Lelila," she said, "when you found  me,  did  you  find  anything  else,
anything... strange?"
     "Besides a web feeding on your body?  Besides  a  shipload  of  abandoned
people? Something strange like what?"
     "Like a small machine. You could... hold it in your hand. Perhaps it  was
on the table, or fallen on the floor?"
     "No," Lelila said. "What was it?"
     "Nothing," Rillao said. "Nothing of any importance."
     Beyond the group of passenger freighters, the ship of the Firrerreo began
to accelerate. It moved slowly out of the  dance  of  ships,  speeding  up  so
gradually that its motion was nearly  imperceptible.  The  acceleration  would
accumulate, second by second and year by year, until the ship  plunged  toward
its destination at a measurable fraction of the speed of light. Rillao watched
the ship. Starlight shone along its dark flank, picking it out with streaks of
silver.
     "You and your son should be on that ship," Lelila said.
     "Yes..." Rillao replied.
     "Will you join them, when you recover him?"
     "I cannot think that far ahead. I can only think of finding him."
     Lelila rose.
     "Where are you going?" Rillao asked.
     "To the other ships. To wake people, to ask them if they  know  where  we
should go. And to free them."
     "That would be a waste of time."
     "Freeing them?" Lelila exclaimed.
     "Yes! They know nothing of their abductors. If you wake them now,  you'll
have to help them be on their way. It will take days."
     "Do you expect me to leave them here, derelict?" Thinking  that  she  had
sounded too sympathetic, Lelila added, "If I free them, they're likely to be..
. grateful."
     "They haven't the  resources  to  be  grateful,"  Rillao  said.  "They're
refugees. Exiles. They have nothing you could want--unless you want their seed
corn." She snorted. "And you can always come back and get that."
     "How can you be sure no one here knows where  our  quarry  went?"  Lelila
asked.
     "Sit down, and I will tell you."
     Unwillingly, Lelila sat on the edge of the chair. Her nerves  tingled  as
if they extended beyond her skin. They made her restless and sensitive. If she
tried to use the sensitivity, she  slipped  off  into  the  despair  that  had
gripped her previous identity. As soon as she had reached this  wilderness  of
drifting, dying ships, her sensitivity had not only failed but punished her.
     Lelila the bounty hunter craved action, any action, that would  keep  her
from remembering.
     Rillao closed her eyes, took a deep long breath, and began to speak.
     "An evil man--I will tell you his name--seized the ships drifting here in
this desert. He thought he had the right, because he was responsible for their
existence. He was responsible for building them, for arresting and  convicting
the people imprisoned within them. Any  world  that  defied  the  Emperor,  he
condemned.
     "This evil  man--I  will  tell  you  his  name--even  condemned  his  own
homeworld. His own planet, Firrerre! And all his own people.
     "He condemned people, and sent them into the wilderness to  colonize  new
planets.
     "In a thousand years he would seek them out, and  plunder  whatever  they
had built.
     "For, you see, this evil man--I will  tell  you  his  name--bblieved  the
Empire would last a thousand years. He  believed  he  would  live  a  thousand
years. He believed that when he returned to the people he had  wronged,  their
descendants would remember him as a god. An evil  and  all-powerful  god  whom
they must obey.
     "For, you see, he was Procurator of Justice for the Empire."
     Rillao's calm, storyteller's voice broke with contempt on the ^w justice.
Lelila nodded, and Geyyahab, sitting on the floor beside the bed, rocked  back
and forth in grim understanding. The Procurator of Justice had been a shadowy,
mysterious figure, never named or pictured during the Emperor's reign.
     His actions had been anything but mysterious. Both  Lelila  and  Geyyahab
remembered the Empire's justice.
     "But his plans went awry. The Empire fell! His power vanished.  He  fled.
But he fled with his resources intact: wealth, and sycophants, and  above  all
his own small planet, a worldcraft, which can travel between the stars.
     "He chased down the passenger freighters he had dispatched into the void.
He towed them into hyperspace.
     "He would not wait a thousand years. He would plunder them now!
     "He could have freed his former prisoners. He could have returned them to
their homeworlds, to their families. He could have submitted  himself  to  the
compassion of the New Republic, which is said to be merciful--"
     Lelila glanced at Rillao sharply from behind her curtain of hair, seeking
recognition but not finding it.
     his--and perhaps he would have been forgiven.
     "But this evil man--I will tell you his name! - - did  not  ask  for  the
Republic's mercy. He towed the captured freighters  into  hyperspace,  and  he
brought them here. He left their passengers sleeping and unaware.  He  visits.
He passes through the ships like the vengeful god he wished to be. He  chooses
children, and takes them away to sell them into slavery.
     "Sometimes he wakes the parents and  tells  them  he  is  stealing  their
children. For the adults are rebels and he would like to break them.  Then  he
could sell them, too.
     "He lives in luxury, planning the rebirth of the Empire. Planning to rule
over the Empire Reborn!
     "His name... is Hethrir." She spoke the name with a growl.
     Rillao smiled with grim satisfaction when she revealed  the  Procurator's
name. She folded her hands, finished with her story.
     "Is that... is that what happened to you? He  made  you  watch  while  he
stole your son?"
     "It is more complicated than that," Rillao said.  "My  relationship  with
Hethrir is... unique."
     "How could your people leave, knowing their children  had  been  stolen?"
Lelila cried.
     Rillao hesitated for some moments before replying.
     "Their children were not stolen. My son is the only youth of  our  people
left alive. Hethrir did not force my people to watch their  children  be  sold
into slavery. He took them away from Firrerre,  and  he  left  their  children
behind. Then he destroyed our world. He made them watch while their  children,
and all the rest of our people, died."
     Rillao folded her hands in her lap and lay back on the bunk, drained even
of her anger.
     Lelila could not speak. She was horrified by the evidence of secret evil,
an evil she believed had  been  vanquished.  A  few  remnants  of  the  Empire
remained, of course, causing misery when they struck, but at  least  they  had
the spirit to reveal themselves.
     This evil had to  be  uncovered.  Hethrir  had  to  be  hunted  down  and
captured. This "Empire Reborn" had to be destroyed.
     She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms  around  her  legs
and buried her face.
     "And now, I think," Rillao  said,  "Hethrir  has  run  out  of  freighter
children to sell. Has he begun to steal them from the Republic's  worlds?  Are
you trying to rescue one?"
     Lelila hesitated, then decided to tell as much of the truth as she dared.
     "At first the parents thought it was a kidnapping. For ransom."
     "But no ransom demand arrived, so they hired you."
     "Yes."
     "And you are..." Rillao paused,  choosing  her  ^ws  carefully  to  avoid
offense. "You are new to this profession."
     "This particular profession, yes."
     "I will help you," Rillao said. "And you will help me."
     "Yes," Lelila said.
     "Take us to Chalcedon," Rillao said.
     Rillao slept.

     Tigris carried Anakin down the long tunnel to  the  worldcraft's  landing
field, following Lord Hethrir and  eleven  hand-picked  Proctors.  The  newest
Proctor strutted at the end of the line. Tigris hurried to catch up,  to  even
out the line by walking two by two.
     "Nursemaid!" The new Proctor sneered at him. "How dare  you  walk  beside
me? Walk behind me, where you belong!"
     Humiliated, Tigris fell back.
     I hope you die, he thought furiously at the new Proctor. It's about  time
for a new Proctor to fail the purification ritual! I hope it's you!
     Whenever a purification ritual failed, the Proctors  were  all  sworn  to
secrecy about the death of their comrade. No one ever bothered to  extract  an
oath from Tigris, so he could tell the new Proctor the risk, if he  chose.  He
held the power close to him, cherishing it, but once again decided not to  use
it. He would be loyal to Lord Hethrir, even without an oath.
     Tigris's arms ached from  the  weight  of  the  child  Anakin.  The  pain
humiliated him. He had thought he was strong. He spent hours each day training
with a practice sword. He trained during every bit  of  spare  time  he  could
snatch. Sometimes he snuck out of the dormitory in the middle of the night  to
practice, even though he had to fight to stay awake the next day, to be  alert
for Lord Hethrir's commands. He only wished the worldcraft's  sleeping  period
always corresponded to the worldcraft's night. He liked  to  practice  in  the
darkness, where no one could see him, where no one could taunt him about using
only a homemade practice sword instead of a real lightsaber. The  worldcraft's
days and nights were so  short  that  sometimes  everyone  slept  during  full
daylight, and sometimes he was seen.
     Anakin held tightly to Tigris's neck. The hot light of  the  worldcraft's
tiny sun fell into the tunnel mouth. Silhouetted ahead of  him,  the  Proctors
followed Lord Hethrir onto the landing field.
     The child can walk, Tigris  thought.  He  should  walk  onto  the  Lord's
starship. He should approach his destiny on his own two feet.
     Tigris put Anakin down.
     "No!" Anakin shouted. "No, no, no!"
     He grabbed Tigris by the leg and clutched him desperately.
     "Stop it, now," Tigris said. "You aren't acting at all dignified."
     "Not walk!" Anakin screamed. "No!" He opened his mouth  and  screamed,  a
high-pitched cry that pierced Tigris's hearing.
     "Be quiet!" Tigris said.
     Anakin only cried louder. Tigris  crouched  down  beside  Anakin,  gently
disengaging the child's clenched fingers from his ragged brown robe.
     "Little one," Tigris said more gently, "everything will be all right."
     Anakin stopped screaming long enough to take a breath.
     Tigris hugged the child.
     "It will be all right," he said again.
     Anakin flung his arms around Tigris's neck and sobbed quietly against his
shoulder, hugging him fast.
     Tigris tried to remember the last time another person  had  touched  him.
Lord Hethrir never touched him, even for  discipline.  The  Lord's  voice  was
sufficient to impose his will. Tigris recalled with desperate envy  the  times
when the Lord placed an approving hand on the head of one of his Proctors,  or
pinned a medal or promotion on one's shoulder and shook his hand.
     My mother was the last person to touch me, Tigris thought. I was ten, and
she hugged me and smoothed my hair and told me she loved me. But all the  time
she was stealing my ability to touch the Force. And even Lord Hethrir has  not
been able to give it back to me.
     The last person to touch me, Tigris thought with fury, was a traitor.
     Anakin's sobs slowed and changed to sniffles.  Tigris  suddenly  realized
that Lord Hethrir's Proctors had crossed the field and  disappeared  into  the
starship. Lord Hethrir himself stood in the hatchway, waiting for  Tigris  and
Anakin, watching with disapproval as Tigris spoiled the child with weakness.
     Tigris jumped to his feet. Anakin clung to  him,  but  his  little  hands
slipped. He would have fallen if Tigris had not grabbed his wrist.
     "No more crying!" Tigris said roughly.  He  pulled  Anakin  along  a  few
steps. The boy hung back, struggling, his face puckering again. In the shadows
of the starship's hatchway, Lord Hethrir scowled.
     Tigris scooped Anakin up, ignoring the ache in his own arms, and  carried
him across the field and up the gangway. The hatch folded closed behind them.
     In the presence of Lord Hethrir, Anakin  quieted.  He  watched  the  Lord
thoughtfully,  intensely.  Tigris  felt  proud  of  the  little  boy.   Anakin
recognized Hethrir's power, and acceded to it.
     In silence, Lord Hethrir turned  and  led  the  way  into  his  auxiliary
starship. In the passenger compartment,  the  Proctors  had  already  strapped
themselves in. They pretended to pay him  no  attention,  but  one  whispered,
under his breath, "Nursie!"
     Tigris flushed, but Lord Hethrir took no notice so  Tigris  pretended  he
had not heard the insult.
     Hethrir  gestured  toward  one  of   the   couches.   Tigris   obediently
disentangled himself from Anakin's arms, placed the child in  the  couch,  and
strapped the harness around him. Anakin started to fuss. Tigris took  Anakin's
hand, enfolding the small fingers. A stray thought flicked through  his  mind:
the size of his own hand. His hands felt clumsy and  disproportionately  large
for his body. He had been growing recently, but his  arms  and  legs  had  not
caught up to his hands and feet. His bones ached like an old man's, especially
after he had trained for hours. He felt clumsy. He was hungry all the time.
     He sat in the couch beside Anakin and reached with his free hand for  the
harness.
     "Leave him and come with me," Lord Hethrir said sharply, and strode  from
the compartment.
     Elated, shocked, Tigris leaped to his feet. The Proctors glared  at  him,
offended and jealous. Anakin clutched his hand. Tigris pulled free and hurried
after Lord Hethrir.
     Anakin began to wail.
     Tigris hesitated, glancing back at the crying child, then toward Hethrir.
     The Lord waited impatiently at  the  control  chamber.  "Leave  him!"  he
commanded. "Close the door. He must learn."
     Tigris obeyed. He knew Anakin should learn to control  himself,  but  the
child was so little, and a few ^ws of comfort served to quiet him much  better
than leaving him to scream himself to exhaustion.
     Panicked, the child cried. Tigris  wanted  to  return  to  the  passenger
compartment. But Lord Hethrir had never before allowed  him  to  ride  in  the
pilot's chamber of the starship. Surely one of the Proctors  would  quiet  the
boy.
     If one did not, the child would have to comfort himself. Perhaps, if Lord
Hethrir wished it, that was the right way to  teach  him  strength  and  self-
reliance.
     Tigris followed his lord, wondering what this honor meant.  Perhaps  Lord
Hethrir had finally decided to allow him to be a helper.
     Lord Hethrir gestured to the copilot's seat. Tigris took his  place,  his
heart swelling with pride. It did not matter that he could not fly a starship.
Perhaps Lord Hethrir planned to teach him.
     "Never  hesitate,"  Lord  Hethrir  said  softly,  "when  I  give  you  an
instruction."
     Tigris flinched. He clamped his hands around the armrests of the seat, so
he would not tremble.
     "Do you understand?"
     "Yes, Lord Hethrir. But Anakin was so very upset--"
     "Never hesitate when I give you an instruction."
     Tigris fell silent.
     "Do you understand?"
     "Yes, my lord," Tigris whispered.
     Lord Hethrir turned his attention to  launching  the  starship,  ignoring
Tigris. Tigris could hear, faintly from the end of the hallway, the sobbing of
Anakin.
     The  starship  rumbled  beneath  them,  then  lifted  off   through   the
worldcraft's thin blue band of atmosphere. The bright blackness of  space  and
stars surrounded them.
     Lord Hethrir's silence stretched on like the  starship's  course  through
space. Tigris thought of speaking, then thought better of it. He watched  Lord
Hethrir fly the starship, he let  his  gaze  rest  longingly  on  the  smaller
lightsaber Hethrir carried, and he tried not to listen to Anakin's crying.
     Finally even Anakin fell silent. The only sound was  the  engines'  faint
vibration, almost too low to be a sound.
     Hyperspace leaped toward them and streaked around  them.  Tigris  gasped.
Hyperspace thrilled him. He wished, someday, to try to explore it, to put on a
pressure suit and go out in it, though many said  that  was  impossible.  Some
said it would drive one mad; some said it would drive one to death.

     Back at his room at the lodge, Han sank into the couch. The  glass  doors
to the terrace hung slightly ajar. Heavy, hot air flowed  over  him.  Han  was
exhausted and distressed. He pushed the doors wide open and breathed the humid
night scents of Crseih Station. He wished for the cool and fresh night air  of
home.
     Threepio hovered worriedly  nearby,  fussing  about  having  no  food  to
prepare, nothing to serve, and no money to buy dinner with.
     "There is not even a sip of wine or a cup of tea, Master  Han,"  Threepio
said.
     "Never mind, Threepio," Han said. "It doesn't matter."
     "Tea is always good after a shock." Threepio  bustled  away,  hoping  for
better luck finding provisions in Luke's room.
     After Threepio left, Luke shook his head. His silence had lasted all  the
way back from Waru's compound. Han's experience distressed him.
     "You should never have gone to Waru alone!"  Xaverri  said.  "You  should
have waited, as I asked you to. You should have returned with me, as  I  asked
you to." She laughed bitterly. "But of course you never, ever did as I asked."
     "Excuse the hell out of me!" Han said. "ally were there all alone, I  was
worried about you!"
     "I have been with Waru  all  alone--truly  alone,  not  with  a  thousand
supplicants looking on--almost every day for a hundred days. Waru  trusts  me.
If you keep behaving this way, Waru will stop trusting."
     "The Ithorian family trusted Waru, and look what it got them."
     Sorrow swept over him, and  terror.  In  his  mind,  the  memory  of  the
Ithorian family transmuted itself to his own family. Though he knew  it  would
never happen, he could not wipe away the image of  him  and  Leia,  Jaina  and
Jacen, begging Waru for help and placing Anakin  on  that  altar.  Though  the
oppressive heat made him sweat, he shuddered.
     He had  risked  his  own  life  a  thousand  times.  He  had  never  felt
vulnerable, as he felt vulnerable now.
     The kids are on Munto Codru, Han reminded himself. Jaina  is  dismantling
some chrono; and Jacen is making friends with some critter that we'll find out
later is maybe just a little bit venomous; and Anakin is watching  everything,
taking in everything, looking for mischief to get into. Leia is watching  over
them, and Chewbacca is keeping watch over  them  all.  They're  fine,  they're
safe.
     But he could not stop shivering.
     "Did you know what was going to happen?"  he  asked  Xaverri,  in  sudden
fury. "Did you know Waru was going to murder that kid?"
     "I knew--"
     Han jumped up in shock, but  Xaverri  raised  one  hand,  palm  out,  and
stopped him.
     "I knew another person would die. I cannot know when. I cannot know  who.
I did not know the Ithorian youth would die. It is impossible  to  know  which
subjects will die when they submit their lives to Waru. One can  only  attend,
and watch, and wait." She sighed. "I would not have had you see that,  without
warning. I could have warned you, if you had waited--z I asked."
     "Waru's a healer," Luke said reasonably. "No healer can succeed  all  the
time. It's tragic, but people do die. Even young people."
     "You didn't see what happened!" Han said. "Waru didn't fail. Waru planned
what happened. Waru--" His voice broke. "Waru enjoyed it."
     "Do you believe, now, that Waru is no fraud?" Xaverri asked.
     "I don't know if Waru is a fraud or not,"  Han  said.  No  one  who  ever
wanted to commit murder for profit, or power, or  excitement  ever  needed  to
invoke the supernatural. "And I don't care." He could barely  keep  his  teeth
from chattering.
     How can I feel so cold, when it's so hot in here? he thought.
     But Han knew the cold at his core would never  disperse  until  he  could
stop what was happening.
     "I do know Waru is evil," he said.
     "You can't know that," Luke said. "Not this soon."
     "Sure I can. I do. I know."
     "How?"
     "How should I know? I don't know! How do you know what you know when  you
know it?" Han paused, frustrated. "All I know is what I know!"
     "I think you're jumping to conclusions," Luke said.
     "I jumped to nothing," Xaverri said,  offended.  "I  observed.  I  gained
Waru's trust. I came to certain conclusions, and I requested your help."
     "Where did that thing come from?" Han asked. "What is it?"
     "When  Crseih  Station  belonged  to  the  Empire,"  Xaverri  said,  "the
Procurator of Justice used it as his headquarters. He used it as a prison  for
enemies of the Emperor. He used it as a torture chamber for his  own  enemies.
And he used it to perform savage rites....
     "It is said," Xaverri said, "when people breathe  their  secrets  in  the
darkness, that Waru appeared in response to the Procurator's rites. It is said
his sacrifices called Waru from empty space, and strengthened  Waru  with  the
lives of people.
     "It is said," Xaverri said, her voice falling to a  whisper,  "that  they
forged a pact, an alliance, that when Waru is satisfied, Waru will reward  the
Procurator with absolute power."
     A chill crept up Han's spine.
     Xaverri folded her hands in her lap; she closed her eyes.
     "The Procurator of Justice is dead," Han said.
     Xaverri opened her soft brown eyes and gazed at him.
     "He's one of the survivors? The ones you've been tracking, and watching?"
     She nodded. "I have been trying to catch up to him for  a  long  time.  I
have discovered that he comes here. When he does, I will be waiting."
     "But Waru's a healer," Luke said.
     "I need not tell you," Xaverri said gently,  "that  a  healer  bears  the
knowledge to kill."
     "Do you have proof?"
     "Han has seen the proof."
     "Luke, I'm sorry this isn't working out the way you  wanted,"  Han  said.
"But we have to stop this thing."
     Luke simply gazed at him, as stubbornly defiant as he had ever been as  a
youth.
     "If Waru's a manifestation of anything," Han said, "it's the dark side."
     "No," Luke said. "Not the dark side."
     "How do you know that?"
     "I don't know." Luke smiled bitterly, ironically. "All I know is  what  I
know."
     "That's not much of an answer," Han said.
     "I know what the dark side feels like. I know what it's like,  to  be  in
the dark side's presence. This isn't it."
     Threepio returned from Luke's room. "Master Luke, we  having  nothing  to
eat."
     "We'll go out, Threepio. Don't worry."
     "We cannot go out, sir. We have no money."
     "Then we'll worry about it tomorrow."
     "Perhaps I should return to the Falcon, and retrieve some provisions."
     "Go on, then!" Han said, unable to listen to Threepio for another second.
     Threepio left, disappearing into the dark hallway.
     "You shouldn't have sent him away," Luke said.
     Han did not reply. He shivered deep and hard. The more he fought it,  the
worse it got. Xaverri rose from the couch beside him and went to Luke.
     "Leave us for a bit, Master Luke," she said.
     Luke hesitated. He glanced from Xaverri to Han, and back again.
     "He will be all right," Xaverri said. "Only, please, leave us for a bit."
     Luke's robe swirled around him as he left Han's room and returned to  his
own. The door closed.
     Xaverri sat beside Han. She took his  hand  between  hers.  Her  familiar
warmth was the only relief in the world from the cold of Han's shivering.
     "Solo," she said, "I understand. We will stop Waru, you and  I  together.
He is powerful, but we will think of a way. Now you must sleep, you must rest.
"
     She enfolded him in her arms. Unlike the heat of the station, the  warmth
Xaverri gave him reached his center.
     His thoughts slipped back to the old days. The terrible shivering slowed,
and slipped away, and ceased. Han fell asleep.
     * * *
     Lord Hethrir's starship tunneled out of hyperspace. Normal space  opened,
bright with stars. Tigris bathed in beauty.
     The starship's shields formed, blocking out the intense radiation of  the
region.
     A maelstrom of light blazed before them, barely dimmed by the shield: the
cosmic whirlpool of a black hole's accretion disk burned before them.
     "I will be glad," Lord Hethrir said, speaking for the  first  time  since
lifting off, "when I can travel in comfort. When I no longer need to  hide  my
worldcraft from those lowborn thieves of the New Republic. I  dislike  leaving
my home behind."
     "My lord," Tigris said, "if I can be of service--if I can attend you--"
     "No," Lord Hethrir said.
     "I beg your forgiveness, my lord."
     "It will be some hours before we  reach  Crseih  Station,"  Lord  Hethrir
said. "I must--meditate. I must prepare for the child's purification."
     He rose. Tigris fumbled for his harness, for he should not remain  seated
while Lord Hethrir stood.
     Lord Hethrir gazed at him.
     Is it my imagination? Tigris wondered. Or is his  expression  kindly?  Of
course, he is thinking about the offering. Not about me.
     "You must sleep," Hethrir said. "You may sleep across my door."
     Tigris was amazed. To sleep at his lord's door  was  an  honor.  A  small
honor, to be sure--not the  same  as  being  promoted  to  Proctor,  or  being
permitted to serve him at table. But it was an honor  nonetheless,  the  first
one Lord Hethrir had ever shown him.
     "Thank you, my lord." He bowed his head.

     Lelila prepared Alderaan for flight. She fastened  safety  straps  around
Rillao, then she and  Geyyahab  and  Artoo-Detoo  secured  themselves  in  the
cockpit. Lelila engaged the drive.
     Alderaan came to alert around her. It displayed her surroundings, picking
out each of the disabled ships, charting a safe course past them. Lelila  felt
guilty about leaving them, but Rillao was right. A few days this way  or  that
would make no difference to the sleeping passengers. A  few  days'  delay  for
Alderaan might lose the children--all the children--forever.
     She sent an unsigned message, an SOS from the stolen  ships,  to  General
Han Solo. Lelila the bounty hunter could not afford to  think  of  asking  the
famous freedom fighter to come to her aid; she could not afford  to  think  of
the touch of his hand, the warmth of his body in the night, his grief and rage
when he learned all that had happened.
     Alderaan displayed its course to Chalcedon; Lelila accepted it. The  ship
powered forward. Lelila shouted out a cry of resolution. Beside her,  Geyyahab
roared in harmony. Alderaan exploded forward into hyperspace, plunging through
the radial aurora.
     Lelila and Geyyahab fell silent. They both felt better.

     Han struggled against the terrible paralysis  of  sleep.  Anakin  was  in
danger. A great  space-snake  writhed  toward  the  child,  who  watched  with
interest and a complete lack of fear. The snake metamorphosed into  Boba  Fett
the bounty hunter, intent on kidnapping Han's children so Han would be in  his
power as well. A reflection glinted off Boba Fett's helmet, gold as  sunlight.
A scarlet vein of blood streaked through the  reflection.  The  bounty  hunter
whispered a curse. The gold  and  red  expanded,  brightened,  and  transmuted
themselves into the shape of Waru, the alien  that  even  Threepio  could  not
place. Waru whispered a promise to Anakin, and Han's child  clambered  to  his
feet and ran toward the being.
     Han knew if he could run after Anakin, or shout, or move a single muscle,
he could catch him, save him, but the paralysis gripped him. He  knew  he  was
asleep, one twitch the wrong side of wakefulness; if he had the  power  to  do
anything he could stop the terrible dream--
     "Solo! Solo, wake up!"
     The shaking released him. The  nightmare  dissolved  just  before  Anakin
reached Waru's altar. Han sat up with a great gasp of fear and relief.
     Xaverri stopped shaking him, stopped holding him.
     "A nightmare," Xaverri said. "A nightmare, not real."
     Light and shadows fell through  the  open  glass  doors:  strange  light,
stranger shadows.
     "It could have been real, though," Han said.
     "I know," Xaverri said softly.
     He did not ask if she  too  had  nightmares  about  Waru.  He  was  still
wrestling his own dreams. Besides, he thought he already knew the answer.
     He was in bed--lying on his bed, to be more accurate, with his boots  and
jacket off and a light coverlet thrown over him. Xaverri sat on the bed beside
him, on top of the coverlet.
     "How'd I get here?" he said.
     "I put you here, of course," Xaverri said. "Time has passed--nei of us is
of an age to rest well, sitting up."
     He remembered one night when their only choice had been to sleep  sitting
up, up to their necks in muddy swamp. They had slept in  turns,  holding  each
other, so they would not both slip beneath the surface and drown.
     Xaverri smiled. "I did not offend your modesty," she said.
     "Do you have a family?" Han asked suddenly.
     Her expression hardened. "You know that I had a family before you met me!
You know that the Empire--"
     "I mean now," he said gently. "The Empire is a long  time  ago.  Are  you
alone? Haven't you found someone?"
     "I will always be alone," she said. "I will never again--"  She  stopped,
and shook her head. "I will always be alone. If I had not made that vow, Solo,
I would never have left you."
     "You're cheating yourself," Han said.
     "In your opinion," Xaverri said. "But imagine. If your nightmare had been
real--"
     Han stiffened. He rejected the possibility violently, as if to accept  it
would be to bring it to pass.
     "It was just a dream!"
     "If your nightmare had been real, would you  not  protect  yourself  from
experiencing it again? No matter how many years ago it had been?"
     "It was just a dream!" Han said again.  The  knowledge  of  his  complete
vulnerability swept over him, even stronger than the night before. He imagined
what it would be like never to hold Leia in his arms again, never to  hug  his
children again, never hear them giggle, feel them  cover  his  face  with  wet
childish kisses.
     They're safe, he told himself again. Safe on Munto Codru.
     "Your experience was a dream, Solo." Xaverri rose. "Mine was real."
     She left him alone. The door closed itself softly behind her.
     Han threw the coverlet onto the floor and got up. In his  stocking  feet,
he rapped on the door of Luke's room and entered without waiting for a reply.
     All the windows and curtains were open.  The  white  dwarf,  the  crystal
star, shone at its zenith as it crossed the orbit of Crseih Station. The black
hole, the burning whirlpool, began to rise. Invisible itself, it spun  in  the
center of its violent accretion disk, which  exploded  with  released  energy.
Light flooded the room from  two  directions.  Gradually,  the  light  of  the
accretion disk overwhelmed the light of the  white  dwarf,  splashing  intense
illumination and stark shadows across the floor.
     Luke sat crosslegged on the balcony, his back to Han. He did not speak.
     Threepio straightened. The droid had set the table with ration packs from
the Millennium Falcon. Washcloths from the bathroom served as napkins.
     A tumbler of grotesque and  contorted  flowers  formed  the  centerpiece.
Generations ago, while Crseih Station was still being properly maintained, the
flowers might have started out as some recognizable species. Over  the  years,
as the radiation shields became less and less reliable, they had  mutated  and
changed into thick-petaled monstrosities that  resembled  slices  of  raw  red
liver infected with chartreuse tumors.
     "Master Hanffwas Threepio said. "Are you hungry? I've  prepared  a  light
brunch... if we can rouse Master Luke."
     "I.was hungry," Han said. "Till I took a look at those flowers. Space the
decoration, will you?"
     "But sir, they are quite intriguing--"
     "They're the ugliest damned things I've seen  since  @oe-trago."  He  sat
down. "And they smell!"
     "They are flowers, sir," Threepio said  in  a  pained  voice.  "They  are
supposed to smell. It was only my intent to bring some cheer  into  the  room,
and if I may say so, I had to bear our host's wrath to obtain them."
     Oh, fine, Han thought, but did not say aloud, another charge added to our
bill.
     Han went to the terrace door. "Luke! Breakfast."
     Han sat at the table and opened his unappetizing ration pack. When's  the
last time I replaced this stuff? he thought. He glanced at  the  date  on  the
package and winced.
     "Threepio, why didn't you bring some of the real food from the Falcon?"
     "Because, Master Han, it was no longer fresh."
     "Neither is this."
     "Of course not, sir. It is preserved."
     "This is ridiculous. I'll order us a decent meal."
     "That is impossible, sir. Our host, the lodge-keeper, insists that we pay
as we go."
     Han sighed and resigned himself to a terrible, if sustaining, breakfast.
     "Hey, Lukeffwas
     Outside on the terrace, Luke rose slowly to his feet.
     I can go out to the Falcon myself, Han thought, and get  whatever's  left
over in the galley. It might not be right out of  the  garden,  but  it'll  be
better than this.
     Luke's shadows fell across the table, shivering, darkening.
     "Sit down--" Han saw Luke's face. "What's the matter?"
     "Leave you alone for a bit? A bit?"
     "Huh? What are you talking about?" Han asked,  baffled  by  Luke's  tone.
"Oh--y mean what Xaverri asked you? Did you want to talk some more?  Sorry,  I
fell asleep."
     "And she didn't leave till this morning," Luke said with a dangerous edge
in his voice.
     "No, she--wait a minute. What are you suggesting?"
     "Suggesting doesn't have anything to do with it."
     "Now look, kid--"
     "Don't call me "kid"'ffwas
     Luke's hand slipped beneath his robe, where he carried his lightsaber.
     "What the hell's the matter with you?" Han asked, poised halfway  between
laughing and losing his temper. "What are you going to do? Chop me into little
pieces because I spent a few hours alone with an old friend?"
     He had not intended to sound defensive, but that was the way it came out.
It offended him that Luke felt the need to chastise him for his  behavior.  It
insulted him that Luke felt the need to remind Han of his vows to Leia.
     "I don't know what I'm going to do," Luke said.
     "Apologize. That would be a good start."
     Luke glared, without replying.
     "If you don't trust me," Han said  angrily,  "if  you  don't  think  Leia
should trust me, why'd you come with me--or is that why you came with me?"
     The ration pack crushed between Han's fingers, littering the carpet  with
protein crumbs.
     "I'm going out," Luke said. "To try to cool  down."  He  headed  for  the
door. "And I hope I don't run into your "old friend"' while I'm at it."
     Threepio watched them, standing stock-st.
     "Leave Xaverri out of this!" Han said. "This doesn't have anything to  do
with her--"
     Luke laughed bitterly.
     his--x has to do with your opinion of me. Which obviously isn't nearly as
high as I thought it was."
     "I can't talk to you right now," Luke said. The door opened for  him.  "I
won't talk to you right now." He plunged through the doorway, jerking the door
closed behind him. But it refused to slam; it shut silently.
     Han flung the crumpled ration pack on the floor among the protein crumbs.
     "Blockheaded, arrogant, Jedi--Jedi kid!"
     "Master Hanffwas Threepio said. "What in the world--?"
     "It's too complicated to explain," Han said, as he left Luke's room.
     "Did Master Luke not like his breakfast?" Threepio asked plaintively.

     Chapter
     9

     Alderaan streaked through hyperspace. Lelila the bounty hunter sat in the
cockpit, letting the fireworks display of hyperspace  light  lull  her  toward
hypnotic sleep.
     It did not help. Hyperspace remained  empty  of  any  perceptible  trail.
Lelila sighed.
     Geyyahab her  copilot  joined  her,  and  let  himself  collapse  in  the
navigator's seat. The  bandage  on  his  leg  displayed  no  warning  sign  of
infection. Though the wound obviously pained him, he as obviously preferred to
pretend he was all right. Lelila made no comment about it.
     "You're a very handsome color," she said, admiring his black  and  silver
striped fur, with the hint of chestnut beneath.
     He touched the streaked brown hair hanging down before her face; he  made
a questioning sound, and looped a green strand around his finger.
     "No," she said, "it's boring, is what mine is. But the color will do  for
the moment."
     Her starship fell out of hyperspace and powered toward Chalcedon.  Lelila
transmitted a reservation to the  landing  field  at  their  destination.  The
artificial-intelligence scheduler accepted her message.
     Leia gazed at the planet and several expanded displays. It was rocky, all
right. Several great volcanic  peaks  rose  from  the  flanks  of  the  world,
deforming the sphere. It was hard to  imagine  how  the  planet  maintained  a
steady rotation.
     The world had an  atmosphere  that  was  barely,  marginally  breathable,
thanks to the continuing volcanic activity. It had some  weather,  mostly  dry
violent storms, and erosion. It had some water. But it had no indigenous life.
Here and there, scattered across the surface of the world,  as  far  from  the
tremendous volcanic peaks as they  could  be,  a  few  blue  and  green  blots
blemished the surface: two struggling colonies, and a way station.
     "Why would anyone want to live here?" Lelila said.
     Geyyahab did not try to  answer  her  rhetorical  question.  He  strapped
himself in and impatiently motioned to Lelila to do the  same.  She  complied,
while she checked with Artoo-Detoo that Rillao, too, was safely secured in the
medical couch.
     Her ship landed, a graceful fish settling to  the  scoured  bottom  of  a
river. The landing field was solid stone, blackened by spaceship  exhaust.  No
dust scattered from the jets' exhaust. A few other ships stood on the field.
     Lelila jumped up when she heard Rlllao. She  hurried  to  join  her.  The
Firrerreo had wrapped the sheet around her. She walked slowly, carefully.  She
had gathered her long striped hair and braided the ends together into a  loose
clump at the back of her neck. Her wounds had healed, leaving silver scars  on
her tawny skin.
     "Do you have clothing?" she said to Lelila.
     Lelila blushed, embarrassed not to have offered her any.
     "Your unnamed friend--"
     "No friend of mine," Rillao snarled.
     his--didn't wear any, I thought your people don't--"
     "Nobody wears clothes in suspended animation," Rillao said. "Even if  the
Imperial overseers who put you to sleep leave you with any to wear."
     Lelila took Rillao into her cabin and dug through the closet. Most of the
clothing was out of the question; some would simply  look  ridiculous.  Rillao
was considerably taller than Lelila. Finally she found a splendid  long  green
silk robe, meant as a lounging outfit. The fabric was heavy enough to be  worn
outdoors.
     "Would this do?"
     "It will suffice," Rillao said. She shoved her long arms into the sleeves
and unrolled the deep cuffso to their longest  length,  tied  the  sash  twice
around her waist, and kilted up the skirts of the robe  between  her  legs  to
form makeshift pantaloons. She tucked the  ends  of  the  robe  in  the  sash.
"Better," she said. "Let's go."
     Geyyahab waited for them at the hatch.
     "Please stay and guard the ship," Lelila said to him.
     He growled in refusal.
     "Someone's got to stay," Lelila said. "No, not me, I'm the only  one  who
hasn't been knocked around." She felt the need to keep the Wookiee  hidden  as
much as possible.
     Why do you want to hide Geyyahab? Lelila the bounty hunter asked herself.
So what if anyone sees him? He's just another brindled Wookiee...
     She shook her head, fighting off a wave of confusion.
     "Please," she said to him again.
     He sighed loudly and scuffed down the corridor to the cockpit.
     As Lelila and Rillao climbed down from the ship, the  ground  quaked  and
rolled beneath them. Lelila gasped and grabbed  the  edge  of  the  hatch  for
support.
     "Earthquake," Rillao said. "They're common here."
     With the ground still shivering, she set off. Lelila hurried after her.
     Soon they both slowed, for the air was  thin  and  it  had  a  bite.  The
volcanic trace gases hurt when Lelila drew them too  deeply  into  her  lungs.
Rillao slowed to match Lelila's pace.
     "That droid is following us," Rillao said.
     Leia glanced back. A hundred paces behind, the little droid rolled toward
them, making up the distance, beeping.
     "That's all right," Lelila said. "The galley stores are low. We  can  buy
food and some more medical supplies. The droid can take them back to the ship.
"
     The quiet of the landing field gave way  to  the  spaceport  bazaar.  The
noise of sellers and a small flute band roiled and tweeted around Lelila.
     "What an impressive bazaar," Lelila said dryly.
     Rillao snorted. "We aren't here for the bazaar," she said. She strode on,
but, like Lelila, she soon had to slow down.  She  coughed.  "Foul  air,"  she
said.
     Several sellers offered their  wares--fruit  pockmarked  with  the  acrid
volcanic chemicals, vases and goblets and ornaments blown from local  volcanic
glass.
     "Looks like mud," Rillao said.
     A troop of Twi'leks danced in the shadows of the  bazaar  wall.  Swinging
their prehensile head-tentacles, they cavorted around Lelila and  Rillao.  One
plucked a small harp, while another whisked the air above Lelila's head with a
fan of insect wings. The  wings  traced  pastel  patterns,  shedding  glittery
scales that stuck to Lelila's skin and caught in her hair  to  shimmer  before
her eyes. Rillao, too, glowed in the sunlight with  a  dusting  of  iridescent
wing-scales. The dancers spiraled in toward them, circling closer till  Lelila
grew tense and angry.
     At the edge of the bazaar, the dance troop left them as  suddenly  as  it
had appeared: the spiral dance reversed and widened, and the troop disappeared
between a canvas tent and a portable geodesic dome.
     Lelila followed Rillao into the cobblestone streets of the  town  proper.
The buildings hugged the ground, low dwellings of black stone  blocks,  worked
so carefully they fit without mortar.
     With every step, Lelila wanted to stop and demand that  Rillao  tell  her
where they were going, who they were  looking  for.  But  she  suspected  that
asking for more explanations would cause her to lose face  in  Rillao's  eyes.
She walked in silence, driven by desperation that she forced to  the  back  of
her mind.
     The cobblestones gave way to rough glass brick. In this part of town even
the houses  were  built  of  glass,  the  muddy  native  volcanic  glass.  The
surrounding walls rose twice Rillao's height,  a  forbidding  barrier.  Lelila
wondered if the volcanic glass  could  be  made  transparent  enough  to  look
through. So far she had not seen a single window.
     Rillao stopped in the spun-glass arch of a recessed  doorway.  The  glass
strands looked like streams of dirty water. A pattern of parallel  glass  rods
decorated the door. Artoo-Detoo caught up to them and pushed into  the  recess
beside them, crowding the space.
     Why don't they welcome us? Lelila asked herself. Then she thought, Who do
you think you are, some princess who's welcome anywhere she cares to go?
     Rillao drew her fingertips across the  glass  rods.  Each  one  hummed  a
different note. The crystalline music shimmered around them.  A  moment  later
the door swung open.
     The glass wall surrounded a huge shallow pool filled with polished  agate
gravel. Water flowed over the bright  agates,  sparkling  and  trickling  like
music. Cobbled paths twisted across the pool-bed, and above, a strange webwork
of thick glass fibers--glass so clear and colorless  that  it  disappeared  at
certain angles - - rose from the pools, lifting into delicate peaks.
     The ground shivered gently. The glass webworks quivered and hummed.
     Several beings draped their boneless bodies and prehensile trunks  across
the webworks, lounging in the glass framework.  A  number  of  other,  similar
beings moved leisurely in the pools, splashing  the  shallow  water  on  their
skins or burrowing down into the agates till only their  eyes  and  trunk-ends
showed.
     One raised a radial trunk (it had five) and sprayed  water  high  in  the
air. The sun glanced off the droplets and created a rainbow. One of the beings
lounging on the web shook the spray off its skin and hooted in protest through
two of its trunks.
     Rillao led  Lelila  and  Artoo-Detoo  past  the  ponds  and  between  the
supporting struts of the webwork.
     The person who lives here must be very rich, Lelila  thought,  to  be  so
profligate with water on a world that's mostly bare volcanic  plain.  And  the
person must be very brave, to build so high,  with  glass,  in  an  earthquake
zone.
     The noon sun beat down  through  the  webwork,  surrounding  Lelila  with
ethereal shadows and flecks of spectral color.
     "These people look  nothing  like  the  people  in  the  bazaar,"  Lelila
whispered to Rillao. Beyond that, they were a species of being with  whom  she
was entirely unfamiliar.
     "Of course not," Rillao growled in an undertone. "No  one  is  native  to
this world. Those were the peasants and traders. These are the bureaucrats."
     They followed a winding cobbled path,  walking  carefully  on  the  slick
places where water had splashed. No one spoke to them or took any more  notice
of them than they took of the ground tremors. Several of the beings pushed the
agate gravel into new patterns, new contours.
     Artoo-Detoo bumped along behind, hooting in disgust at  the  design  each
time he had to navigate an acute angle of the pathway.
     Lelila and Rillao reached the center of the agate pool, directly  beneath
the highest point of the glass webwork.
     In a small deep agate nest, one of the boneless beings shifted  back  and
forth. Water sloshed peacefully to its rhythm.  Only  two  of  its  prehensile
trunks projected, one high and taking in air,  the  other  low  and  exhaling,
occasionally dipping beneath the surface to blow bubbles.
     Rillao sat on her heels beside the agate nest, and waited.
     Powerfully disinclined to sit and wait, Lelila remained standing,  gazing
around curiously at the unfamiliar courtyard. She bent down  and  reached  for
one of the polished agates.
     Rillao grabbed her hand. The Firrerreo's  scarred  fingers  clamped  down
with surprising force.
     "Have you no manners?" she whispered. "Sit down and  be  quiet  and  keep
control of your eyes--and your hands!"
     "Let go!" Lelila jerked her hand away.
     Rillao's nails scratched her skin.
     "Ouch!" One of the scratches cut deep enough to bleed. Lelila brought her
hand to her mouth. She wondered if Rillao's nails contained venom or allergen.
She thought, I'm a bounty hunter, where would I learn manners, and why  should
I be punished for not knowing any?
     "Your eyes, and your hands--and your voice!" Rillao said.
     All right, Lelila thought, I'm a bounty hunter, I can sit quiet and  wait
if I have to.
     She glared at Rillao, who gave  no  sign  that  she  owed  Lelila  either
explanation or apology. Lelila sat crosslegged and let her hair spread  around
her. The ends fanned out on the cobbles.
     I can still see, she thought with satisfaction, but now no one  can  tell
where my eyes are looking. No one can tell where my eyes are.
     So she sat beside Rillao and watched the boneless beings lounge and spout
and push agates into new swirls and patterns. Every so often  she  glanced  at
the being in the central pool. It breathed and blew bubbles  and  occasionally
caressed an agate or two with its prehensile limbs.
     Rillao balanced on her toes, her forearms relaxed on top  of  her  knees.
Her eyes were closed. Lelila thought, This is hardly the time or place  for  a
nap!
     She felt agitated. Anger and impatience  trickled  across  her  like  the
water in the agate pool. Beneath the surface, despair lurked.
     Don't get so involved in your prey, she said to herself. You're a  bounty
hunter, if this one gets away you'll always have another  case  to  go  after.
Above all, you must stay calm.
     A spark of light ignited at the back  of  her  mind.  She  came  to  full
awareness, full attention, thinking, I'm here, who's calling for me--
     The being burst upward, all its  tentacles  extended  and  twisting,  and
landed with a great gush of water. The fountain erupted from  the  agate  pool
and splashed Lelila from the top of her head to the ends of her hair.
     With a shout of surprise, Lelila pushed herself back from the edge of the
path. Her hair was so thick that it had  protected  her  clothing  from  being
drenched. The spark of light vanished, forgotten.
     The wave soaked the path. Water flowed around her. She jumped up and  sat
on her heels like Rillao, out of the wet.
     Artoo-Detoo squealed and rolled backward and rotated  its  carapace  back
and forth, shaking off the water like a dog. Lelila grabbed the droid  as  its
back wheels touched the edge of the path. It rolled a handsbreadth forward, no
closer, and settled stolidly on the cobbles.
     "Enough, cease!" the being cried, speaking through one of its  prehensile
trunks. The central bulge of its body projected above the water and  the  ends
of its tentacles writhed. Fine tendrils covered the tips  of  several  of  the
tentacles (it had at least ten; ten was when Lelila lost count  of  the  snaky
limbs). Its mass of crystalline eyes swiveled toward Lelila and  Rillao,  like
so many tiny antennae.
     Rillao, who had endured the soaking without a sound or motion of protest,
slowly opened her eyes.
     "I have business, Indexer," she said quietly.
     "Business! Speak to my  assistants.  Why  are  you  here,  disturbing  my
concentration?"
     "To solve a difficult problem," Rillao  said.  To  Lelila's  wonder,  the
Firrerreo  offered  a  compliment.  "Only  the  Indexer  can   make   suitable
connections."
     Mollified, the Indexer subsided into the agate pool.
     "A challenge, you say," the Indexer said.
     "A very difficult one."
     "State your question."
     "We are in the trade," Rillao said, in a voice flat  and  cold.  "And  we
have been engaged to fulfill the requests of our employers."
     "Ah," the Indexer said. "Employers of your own planetary group?"
     "Yes," Rillao said.
     "Wishing the same?"
     "Yes."
     Lelila struggled to decipher the code of the conversation.  She  wondered
what difference the background of employers made. She started to say  she  was
her own employer. The scratch on her hand gave her a brief,  stinging  twinge.
She remembered Rillao's caution to keep control of her voice.
     "That is a challenge," the Indexer said. "For you, that is to  say."  The
faceted eyes clumped together in the direction of Lelila. "In the case of her,
who knows? We will worry about her later." The  faceted  eyes  returned  their
focus to Rillao. "I thought your people were extinct."
     "Not... quite," Rillao said.
     "I thought the Firrerreo did not participate in the trade," it said.
     "We are highly adaptable."
     "I see, I see. That is good--a good way to keep  from  becoming  extinct.
Ah, I do see, you wish to widen the gene pool."
     Rillao remained silent.
     "Or  perhaps  withdraw  your  people  from  the  trade.  Cause   trouble,
publicity--"
     "All that concerns you is the shape of my money."
     The code became clear to Lelila the bounty hunter. Rillao was  asking  to
buy a slave.
     Your life has been too sheltered, she told herself.  It's  a  good  thing
that you've become a bounty hunter.
     She glanced sidelong at Rillao, through the curtain of her damp hair. She
felt herself blushing with furious anger and humiliation, to be described as a
slave buyer to a slave procurer.
     What does it matter, Lelila said to herself, what  the  Indexer  believes
you do for a living? What do you care what the Indexer thinks?  Remember  your
job. Your job is to find the escaped ship. And if deception is the  means  for
it... think of your reward when you succeed.
     "The search will be costly," the Indexer said. "You must realize that.  A
great deal of data to be sifted for a small bit of information."
     Rillao dismissed the cost with a gesture. She turned toward  Lelila,  who
suddenly realized that Rillao had no money. Rillao had nothing.
     "Pay him whatever he wishes," Rillao said to Lelila.
     "But I don't--" She stopped, thinking, Of course I carry money. Why  ever
did I think I don't carry money?
     Confused, distressed, she jumped to her feet.
     Balanced precariously on her toes on the wet cobblestones, she swayed and
nearly fell. Rillao gripped her upper arm, steadying her, shocking her out  of
her momentary hallucination of  being  two  people.  One,  Lelila  the  bounty
hunter, straightforward and phlegmatic; the other, a stranger, stark-eyed  and
dangerous with the power of her rage.
     Rillao had caught several strands  of  her  hair,  along  with  her  arm.
Inadvertently she pulled them.
     "That hurts," Lelila said. "Let go, I'll pay him." The  enraged  stranger
vanished.
     Rillao reluctantly withdrew her hand, staring at Lelila with  a  curious,
intent expression.
     Avoiding Rillao's gaze, Lelila turned toward the Indexer. "How much shall
I pay you?"
     "It depends on the search." The being reached up with  several  tentacles
and wrapped them around the glass superstructure.  The  rest  of  the  being's
limbs burrowed down into the agates.
     Lelila crouched down again to wait.
     An eerie musical note of high, crystalline character  emanated  from  the
glass superstructure. The boneless beings  lounging  upon  the  glass  hunched
themselves into motion and climbed with careless fluidity toward the  Indexer.
Their motion changed the  pitch  and  intensity  of  the  notes,  creating  an
ethereal melody. The closer they moved, the  higher  rose  the  pitch.  Rillao
narrowed her eyes and raised her shoulders, as if to block the tune  from  her
perception. After the sound passed completely out of Lelila's hearing,  Rillao
moaned softly, dropped her head, and slipped her hands over her ears.
     All the beings in the Indexer's courtyard congregated  nearby.  Each  one
twined tentacles with the others, till their organic network cast an irregular
shadow over the Indexer.
     The Indexer's crystalline eyes focused into the pond; the Indexer's  free
tentacles sifted through the agate gravel.  The  stones  rattled  and  scraped
together; the water made them sound hollow.
     "What's he doing?" Lelila whispered.
     "Shh!"
     Her toes and her knees ached but she did not want  to  sit  down  in  the
puddle. Her wet  hair  chilled  her.  She  stayed  where  she  was,  her  legs
trembling.
     A moment later, the  Indexer  relaxed  from  sifting  through  the  agate
gravel. The other beings disentangled themselves, and slipped back on twisting
tentacles to their places in the ponds and on  the  glass  framework.  Whether
they went back to their original positions, Lelila could not tell. The  melody
dropped back into her hearing, then stopped abruptly  in  mid-trill  when  the
Indexer's tentacles dropped from the strands.
     The Indexer's tentacles arranged themselves into  a  rosette  around  the
boneless body. The crystal eyes projected above the water.
     One of the tentacles crept above  the  water  and  flattened  out  before
Lelila, who slipped her hand into the pocket where she kept the money.
     "What is the price?" Rillao said, her voice tight.
     The Indexer named a figure. Lelila tightened her hand around  the  bills.
The price was a significant fraction of their resources.
     This is no time to quibble, she said to herself. She  put  a  handful  of
credits onto the Indexer's prehensile trunk, which snapped into a coil  around
it and splashed back underwater. The tentacle burrowed into the agate  gravel;
the credits disappeared.  When  the  Indexer's  tentacle  appeared  again,  it
carried nothing.
     "I found no one of your species, Firrerreo," the  Indexer  said.  "Not  a
single one ever sold publicly in the trade."
     Lelila jumped up, outraged. She nearly stumbled, for her feet had  fallen
asleep.
     "Nothing!" she said. "You charged us for nothing!"
     "I charge for my time, and my experience," the Indexer  said  calmly.  "I
cannot produce results that do not exi/!"
     "You could have warned us!"
     The Indexer shrank back.
     Rillao put her arm around Lelila's shoulder.
     "Never mind," she said.
     "But we've been cheated--!"
     "Don't  make  accusations  you  cannot   support,"   the   Indexer   said
dangerously.
     "The Indexer cannot produce results that do not exist," Rillao said.  She
sounded calm, not so much resigned as relieved.
     Lelila was astonished that Rillao did not erupt in a fury, that  she  did
not pounce on the Indexer, rend the tentacles, and fling  them  all  over  the
courtyard.
     "Thank you, Indexer," Rillao said quietly.
     "Firrerreo!" the Indexer said suddenly.
     "Yes, Indexer?"
     "I found  no  public  record.  I  would  have  no  record  of  a  private
transaction."
     Rillao tensed. Her ringers dug into Lelila's shoulder.
     "I will tell you something I have heard, if you will promise  to  confirm
or disprove the rumor for me."
     "State your question." Rillao's voice was a low, ominous whisper.
     "It is being said," the Indexer  told  them,  "that  the  Asylum  Station
imagines it can compete with Chalcedon."
     Artoo-Detoo warbled in distress.
     "Asylum?" Lelila said. She knew no place called Asylum Station.
     "I would have thought," Rillao said softly, "that the Republic would have
destroyed that evil den at its first convenience."
     The glittery faceted eyes of the Indexer oriented toward Rillao.
     "Perhaps the Republic finds it useful," the Indexer  said,  and  subsided
into the water. Its skin mottled and it disappeared against the luminous earth
colors of the agate nest.
     Artoo-Detoo, anxious to escape the dampness,  spun  a  quarter  turn  and
bumped away along the cobbles. As Lelila followed Rillao from  the  courtyard,
the smooth round stones rattled and shifted in the bottom of the pool.
     Outside, on the street, Lelila frowned.
     "Why would the Republic want to destroy Asylum Station?" Lelila asked.
     "It's a place where the Empire tested its methods of coercion and death..
. on sentient subjects."
     "But that would have stopped!" Lelila cried. "It would have stopped  when
the Empire fell. Wouldn't it?"
     "I don't know," Rillao said. "I've been out of touch."

     Outside the lodge, Han strode down the path.
     He was furious. Furious at Luke for being suspicious in the first  place,
andfor refusing to have a sensible conversation about his  suspicions  in  the
second.
     Han still had feelings for Xaverri; he could not deny them. He would not.
But he did not believe he should be chastised for them.
     Am I supposed to forget that I ever loved Xaverri? Han thought.  I  chose
Leia, and she chose me. Because we loved each other. None of that has changed.
I love her. I love her now. What I felt for Xaverri was... a long time ago.
     He wondered if he should find Xaverri and ask her to stay away from  Luke
for the next little while. Or find Xaverri, then go find Luke  and  both  tell
him about last night. But that felt too  much  as  if  Han  had  something  to
apologize for.
     He swore softly under his breath. He had no idea where Xaverri lived.  He
did not know where to look for her, except at Waru's compound. For the moment,
he could not face returning there. He could not face seeing again what he  had
seen yesterday. He could go back to the lodge and ask Threepio  where  he  had
found Xaverri when he sought her out.
     But he did not want to do that either.
     That's quite a list, he thought, of things you can't do or don't want  to
do. Forget them all. Xaverri can take care of herself--z she's told you in  no
uncertain terms. And Luke may be angry, but he isn't stupid. If he  was  going
to lose his temper completely, he'd've lost it back at the lodge, with me.
     Choose a problem you can do something about, he said to himself,  turning
his steps toward the welcome dome, the taverns, the gambling dens.  And  while
you're at it, start thinking--.hard--ab what to do about Waru.

     Jaina opened the door cautiously and peeked  outside.  Her  light  glowed
from behind her, casting her shadow all the way across the dark  stone  floor.
She quickly let the light go out, afraid someone was watching.
     She listened carefully. She heard a soft buzzing sound.
     Is that a watcher droid? she wondered. She stepped back  into  her  cell.
She left the door open only the smallest crack. A watcher droid could  see  in
the dark. It would sound the alarm. Then one of the Proctors  would  come  and
shut Jaina back in her cell. Maybe forever!
     The buzzing sound did not move. And it really did not sound like a droid.
Scared but determined, Jaina rubbed a few air molecules  together  to  make  a
faint glow. She sent them out into the middle of the gathering hall.
     A Proctor stood in the entrance of the corridor. He was  supposed  to  be
standing. But instead he was leaning. And he was asleep.  The  noise  was  his
snore.
     Jaina slipped out of her cell. Her door closed behind her.  She  let  the
light fade to almost nothing. She walked a few steps forward and stopped.  She
was scared. The Proctor might wake up, any second. If she  turned  around  and
went back into her safe cell she would no longer be afraid.  She  could  light
the air up, and it would warm her.
     But if she did that, she would never find Jacen and she would  never  see
Mama and Papa again and she would never know what had happened to Anakin.
     Across the room, a faint line of light  glowed  in  the  darkness.  Jaina
crept toward it, her hands out in  front  of  her  in  case  she  bumped  into
anything. The line of light shone out beneath one of the other cell doors.
     "Jacen?" she whispered.
     "Get me out of here!" he whispered.
     "Shh!" It would be so much easier if they could talk at  each  other,  in
their minds. But if they did, Hethrir would know. Jaina  was  afraid  even  to
try.
     Jaina looked over at the Proctor. His head nodded forward. He snorted and
nearly woke up. Jaina froze.
     The Proctor muttered something. He slid down  the  wall  and  rested  his
forehead on his knees.
     He started to snore again.
     Jaina made some air molecules bump against each other. They made  a  soft
humming, thrumming noise. Maybe now the Proctor would not hear her.
     "Hurry!" Jacen whispered.
     Jaina grinned.
     The cell doors were latched, not locked. They could not  be  opened  from
the inside. They did not need to be  locked  on  the  outside.  Hethrir  never
thought that one of the children might get loose and open all the doors.
     Jaina grabbed the handle and pulled the door open.
     The door squeaked.
     "What? Who's there?" The Proctor stumbled to his feet.
     Jaina jumped behind the door.
     The Proctor ran over to the open cell.
     "What's going on here? How did you open this door?"
     "I don't know," Jacen said. "It just opened!"
     Jaina could not see the Proctor but she heard him poking at the latch.
     She pushed the door toward him as hard as she could.
     The heavy wood banged against his head.  He  shouted  and  stumbled  into
Jacen's cell. Jacen ran past him and Jaina slammed the door so the Proctor was
locked inside.
     The Proctor started shouting, and pounding on the door, but Jaina did not
pay him a single bit of attention.
     Jacen grabbed Jaina in a big hug. Jaina hugged him back.
     "Jasa, Jasa, I'm so glad to see you--"
     "Jaya, I thought they'd take you away--"
     his--but what about Anakin? And--"
     his--th is the most awful place--"
     his--th school is so--"
     his--.boring! I think they're all liars--"
     his--yeah, liars, because they said Mama and Papa--"
     "They aren't dead!" Jacen said. "They aren't!"
     "I know," Jaina said. "They just want us to think so."
     They stood in a faint pool of light as Jacen's heated air molecules  spun
around at their feet.
     The Proctor banged on the door again. "Let me out!"
     "No!" Jaina said. She was glad she had not bashed in his  head.  Kind  of
glad.
     Jacen grinned at her. His front tooth was loose too, but he had not  lost
it yet.
     "Look!" Jaina said. "I'm getting a new tooth!" She stuck her  tongue  out
of the space to show Jacen where her new front tooth was coming in.
     "Me, too. Pretty soon, I mean."
     "Let's go!" Jaina grabbed his hand  and  pulled  him  toward  the  darker
darkness of the corridor.
     "Wait! What are we going to do? What about the others?"
     "We're going to climb out past the dragon and run away and maybe  we  can
get far enough away to think at Mama and Uncle  Luke."  She  had  not  thought
about the other children.
     "Maybe they want to come with us. Or run away themselves."
     Jaina was impatient but she guessed Jacen was right. She ran to the  door
beside his and pulled it open. She heated up some of the air so she could see.
     "We're running away. You can run away or you can stay here!"
     Behind her, Jacen ran to the door on the  other  side  of  his  cell  and
opened it.
     "We're running away! Do you want to run away too?"
     Most of the other children jumped up from their  floorbeds  and  ran  out
into the gathering room. But a few backed  away  into  the  corners  of  their
cells. Jaina did not try to make them come with her. She did  not  have  time.
She left their doors open in case they wanted to change their minds.
     Then she opened the last door.
     "We're running away! Do you--"
     Vram stared at her. Jaina stopped.
     Hethrir locks Vram up at night, too! Jaina thought. He made him a helper,
but he doesn't really trust him.
     Vram had a bed and a blanket and a light. But he was still locked  up  at
night.
     "Don't!" Vram said. He was very scared. "Don't hit me, I'll tell  Hethrir
on you!"
     Jaina was scared. All the  other  children  were  gathering  behind  her,
excited, whispering, their happiness and hope collecting around them. She  had
not thought that any might run and tattle. She was  not  afraid  one  of  them
might. But Vram would, in his new rust-red tunic.
     "Do you--d you want to come with us?"
     "You'll hit me! You'll kill me!"
     "I will not!"
     He took a deep breath. "Help!"
     Angrily, Jaina slammed the door shut on him.
     Jacen grabbed her hand. Together, they ran into the corridor  with  their
beacons of glowing air swirling ahead of them and behind them.
     The other children followed.
     The tiny sun was just setting when they  reached  the  stairwell  to  the
outside. Jaina ran up the stairs and raised her head above the  edge.  No  one
was watching. The playground was deserted.
     "What about the dragon?" one of the other children whispered.
     "I don't know," Jaina said. "Jacen, we can't use the multitool, the sun's
going down!"
     Jacen flicked a tiny swirl of heated air into existence, and concentrated
it. It was much brighter than  the  light  from  Jaina's  multitool  lens.  It
bounced across the playfield. Jaina and Jacen ran after it.
     "Dragon!" Jacen cried. "Hey, you dragon!"
     The dragon jumped up out of the sand and roared. But she  did  not  throw
herself against the fence. She looked around and snorted and leaped  into  the
air to try to catch the flame-toy Jacen made for her. Then she  hunkered  down
beside the fence and pressed her shoulder against the mesh.
     Jacen rubbed her pebbly scales. The dragon rumbled.
     I wish I could do that! Jaina thought. Pat a  dragon,  and  make  friends
with it, like Jacen.
     But she knew Jacen was a little envious of her for  being  able  to  take
machines apart and put them back together again and make them better.
     Jacen stood nose-to-nose with  the  dragon.  The  dragon  snorted.  Jacen
snorted back. He stuck his hand through the  fence  and  rubbed  the  dragon's
heavy brow ridges. The dragon flicked out its tongue.
     Jaina gasped.
     "I think she's just tasting me," Jacen  whispered.  "If  she's  like  the
lizards back home."
     "Tasting you! So she can eat you, maybe!"
     "So she knows it's me. Let's go!"
     "Are you sure?" Jaina asked.
     Then the alarms started ringing and they did not have any choice.
     Jacen scrambled up the fence and over the top. Jaina followed.  The  wire
mesh scraped her hands. She scooted over and jumped down on the other side.
     The other children swarmed up over the fence and jumped  to  the  ground,
but they stayed as far from the dragon as they could get.
     The dragon slurped her tongue across Jacen's shoes.
     "She just wants to be sure she'll recognize me," Jacen insisted. He  slid
onto Mistress Dragon's back. "Is this okay; Mistress Dragon? Can I ride you?"
     She snuffled and raised her head, but she did not buck or  roll  over  or
try to rub Jacen off against the fence. Jacen dangled the light-toy  in  front
of her.
     "Come on, hurry!" Jacen held out his hand to Jaina. She  grabbed  it  and
jumped on the dragon's back. The dragon lurched to her feet, standing up  with
her back legs first and then her front legs. Jaina shrieked with surprise  and
grabbed Jacen around the waist. She would feel a lot more comfortable  if  the
dragon was a landspeeder and she was driving it.
     The other children ran to the  dragon.  Jaina  grabbed  their  hands  and
pulled them up onto the dragon's  back.  Soon  the  dragon  was  covered  with
children. Most rode her back, but a few hung on to her legs, giggling.
     "Is this still all right, Mistress Dragon?" Jacen asked. "Can we all ride
you?" He glanced around at Jaina. "I don't think she minds."
     "Hurry, let's go if we're going!" Jaina could hear shouts  from  back  in
the canyon.
     She kept expecting Hethrir's power to loom over her. As soon as  he  knew
they were escaping, he would fling her to the ground. He would throw his heavy
cold blanket over her, like he had when she tried to protect Lusa....
     Jacen dangled his fire-toy in front of Mistress Dragon.
     Jaina shivered.
     "Be careful, Jasa," she whispered. "Be careful."
     Swinging along through the sand, the dragon followed the point  of  light
away from the fence and out through the canyon mouth. The  fire-toy  made  the
shadows move all around them.
     Jaina wished Lusa was with them. She wondered how her  centauroid  friend
could ride on a dragon. But then she thought that maybe Lusa wouldn't have  to
ride, since she had four feet to run on. She had wanted so much to run.
     Jaina worried about Lusa, and about Mr. Chamberlain's wyrwulf.
     Somehow, Jaina thought, somehow I'll find them and  somehow  I'll  rescue
them! I don't care what Hethrir does!
     The dragon climbed a steep dune, lurching up  the  slippery  sand.  Jacen
grabbed the dragon's neck and Jaina grabbed Jacen's waist and the child behind
Jaina grabbed her waist. They all slid back a little. The dragon  whipped  her
tail back and forth and up, holding the children on her back.
     "I think she likes us," Jaina said, trying not to sound scared.
     Jacen grinned. Then he looked serious. "Where are we going?"
     "Away," Jaina said.
     The dragon reached the top of the dune. She stopped and raised her  head,
nostrils flaring as she drank the wind.
     Jacen leaned forward and whispered to the dragon. Mistress Dragon  leaped
from the ridge of the sand dune and slid down the slope. Everybody yelled with
excitement. This was better than any amusement ride!
     Mistress Dragon reached the bottom of the sand dune.  She  strode  across
the ground toward the stream and the forest. She could move  very  fast,  when
she wanted to.
     Jacen fumbled in the front of his shirt.
     "What are you doing?" Jaina thought he  was  scratching.  "Did  something
bite you?"
     "Bite me?" Jacen exclaimed.
     "Someday something will."
     "Nothing ever bites me!" Jacen said. He pulled his hand out of his  shirt
and showed her. In the starlight, a little creature  wriggled  gently  in  his
grasp and looked around with bright eyes.
     "What is it? Was it in your cell?"
     "No..." He opened his hand a little. The creature stretched its two pairs
of wings and grabbed Jacen's finger with its one pair of feet.
     "It's from Munto Codruffwas Jaina said. "It's a bat! You weren't supposed
to play with the bats!"
     "I wasn't playing," Jacen said. "I was looking. It's really interesting."
     The bat yawned. Its sharp teeth glittered in the starlight.
     "It's poisonous!" Jaina said.
     "I was just looking at it," Jacen said again. "I didn't mean to bring  it
along, I mean how was I supposed to know somebody was going to come along  and
steal us?"
     "What are you going to do with it now?"
     The  bat  crouched  in  Jacen's  hand,  stretching  its  wings  in   four
directions. Jacen touched the bat's wingtip with the tip of his finger.
     "Let it fly," he said. "It's been all cooped up. It's bored."
     Jacen raised his hand. The four-winged bat raised its head,  sang  a  few
notes, spread its wings, and vanished into the dark.
     Mistress Dragon walked and walked across the sand. Jaina kept expecting a
skiff to fly overhead. She expected Hethrir and his Proctors to land in it and
make them go back.
     But that did not happen.
     Mistress Dragon kept walking. The little sun  fell  toward  the  horizon.
They had been traveling all day. "All day" was only half as long as a  regular
day, but Jaina got thirsty, and then hungry, and then sore from riding.
     In the distance, a stream glimmered in the starlight.  The  stream  wound
through trees and led to a forest. It would be easier to hide down there  than
out in the bare sand.
     Mistress Dragon raised her head and sniffed the air.  She  put  her  head
down again and walked even faster toward the stream.
     Mistress Dragon's feet squished into mud at the edge of the  stream.  She
stopped and snortled. She put her head down and Jacen slipped right off. Jaina
grabbed Mistress Dragon's scales and held herself on. All the  other  children
jumped off the dragon's back.
     Mistress Dragon wanted to drink from the stream. Then she splashed in it.
She waded out into the stream and lay on the gravel, like a  new  island.  She
lowered her head beneath the water and blew  bubbles  through  her  nose.  She
shook herself.
     Jaina fell off into the water. She struggled and splashed onto shore. She
knew she should keep running, but  she  was  awfully  thirsty  and  tired  and
hungry. She drank from the stream.
     The sky was turning from black to purple and then to pink and yellow  and
blue as the sun raced up. The trees cast cool shadows. All the bushes  at  the
edge of the stream were heavy with berries. Just  looking  at  them  made  her
mouth water. But she was afraid to eat them.
     I don't trust anything on this world,  she  thought.  Except  Jacen,  and
maybe Mistress Dragon. Hethrir said he was  our  friend,  but  he  wasn't,  he
wasn't! And he said he was trying to teach us things we need to know.  But  he
was lying then, too.
     And even Tigris, who sometimes was not completely mean, had said Mistress
Dragon would eat them.
     Mistress Dragon settled deeper in the water, dunking the children hanging
on to her sides. She stood up, making a huge splash. Jaina  laughed.  But  she
was still hungry.
     Jacen ran up the bank. The four-winged bat landed in  Jacen's  wet  hair.
The bat chittered and sang. Jacen went straight for  one  of  the  bushes  and
grabbed a handful of berries.
     "Jacen! They might be poison!"
     He stuffed them into his mouth and ate them.
     "Don't be dumb, Jaya," Jacen said.
     "I'm not, Jasa!" Jaina said, emphasizing his nickname.
     "Somebody built this place. Right?"
     "Yeah. That's obvious."
     "So somebody put stuff on it that's good to eat."
     He handed her some berries. Jaina ate them. They were delicious.
     Later all the children sat on the bank  of  the  stream,  full  of  sweet
berries, and getting warm and dry in the sun. One of the little ones--Anakin's
age--cuddled up against Jaina.
     "Can we go home now?"
     "Pretty soon," she said. "Pretty soon, I hope."
     "I want my mumma," the little one said, sniffling.
     "Me, too," Jaina said. She hugged the little one. Her lower lip  trembled
and she had to stop talking so she would not start  crying  in  front  of  the
others. She did not want to scare them. She was scared herself because she did
not know what to do now. She looked over at Jacen and she knew he did not know
what to do now either.
     Jaina scooted over to sit right next to Jacen.
     "We have to find a place those Proctors can't go," she said.
     He nodded.
     "What can we do that they can't?" Jacen said.
     "Lots of stuff," Jaina said. She almost reached to lift a rock--
     "Don't, don't, Jainaffwas Jacen cried.
     Even before Jacen said anything, she had  pulled  back.  She  was  afraid
Hethrir's power would loom up around her. And she was  afraid  he  would  find
her, if she used her abilities to move anything bigger than air molecules.
     "Lots of stuff, usually," she said sadly.
     "We're little," Jacen said. "And they're big. It isn't fair."
     "Yeah," Jaina said. "We're little. And they're big."
     She pointed across the stream, where thick bushes grew down the far bank.
     "I bet they couldn't go in those bushes. I bet we could."
     Jacen grinned. "It would be like caves."
     "And then we could sneak out when it's dark again, and try to find  their
spaceships."
     "Or their message capsules."
     "Or kidnap one of them and make them take us home!"
     Jaina looked at Jacen skeptically. He was mostly joking.  But  they  both
wished it was possible.
     "We better go."
     "Hey, everybody!" Jaina said.
     The other children stopped playing in  the  shallows  of  the  stream  or
climbing on Mistress Dragon or eating berries from the bushes.
     "We have to run away," Jaina said.
     "Or those Proctors will come and put us back in jail."
     One of the little ones came up to Jaina and hugged her around the waist.
     "I'm tired, Jaya," the little one said. She sounded so much  like  Anakin
that Jaina wanted to burst into tears. Jaina missed her little brother and she
was worried about him even though he could be a pain sometimes.
     "I know," Jaina said. "I am too. Let's go hide in the bushes and then  we
can take a nap. Okay?"
     The little one kicked her toe in the dirt.  "Yeah,  I  guess,"  she  said
reluctantly.
     Jaina held her hand and Jacen held the hand of one of  the  other  little
ones. They clustered together and waded  into  the  stream  toward  the  other
streambank.
     Mistress Dragon snorted and splashed, switching  her  long  pebble-scaled
tail in the ripples.
     She stuck her head underwater and came back up with  a  big  mouthful  of
water-weed. She munched it contentedly.
     "You're very beautiful, Mistress  Dragon,"  Jacen  said,  scratching  her
eyebrows. "But you're too big to come with us. Maybe you should go back to the
desert and hide, so those Proctors don't hurt you."
     Mistress Dragon settled down in the water till only her back and her eyes
and her nostrils stuck out above the surface. She blinked. Her eyelids flicked
water droplets onto Jaina's face.
     "I think she thinks she's hidden," Jaina said.
     Jacen hesitated, worried.
     "We have to go," Jaina said. "We have to hide.  She'll  be  okay,  Jacen.
Maybe they'll even think she ate us up and they'll give her a reward,  they'll
be so glad."
     Jacen grinned.
     The children all splashed through the stream and climbed the far bank and
crawled on the wet mossy ground and slipped under the dense bushes.
     Jacen found a sort of trail. He said an animal probably  made  it.  Jaina
hoped she did not run into the animal. She imagined that it probably  had  big
claws and teeth.
     But Mistress Dragon has big claws  and  teeth,  Jaina  thought,  and  she
turned out all right.
     Jacen untangled the four-winged bat from his hair and held it  gently  in
his hands, looking into its sharp little face. The bat wriggled and Jacen  let
it go. It flapped away, flitting through the gold-green  shadows  beneath  the
bushes.
     "It's going to look for a place  for  us  to  go,"  Jacen  said.  He  had
persuaded it, the way he persuaded Mistress Dragon, and the myrmins.
     They crawled down the trail. Jacen took the lead and Jaina went last.
     I bet there's all sorts of worms and stuff on this trail, Jaina  thought.
Yuk. I wish I was back home in the chemistry lab.
     A few minutes later, Jaina heard voices and the hum of landspeeders.  She
was scared that Hethrir and the Proctors were so close behind her.
     We almost waited too long! she thought.
     One of the little ones, crawling along  in  front  of  her,  stopped  and
looked back.
     "Jaina!" the little one whispered. "Did you hear--?"
     "Shh! Hurry! Be real quiet and keep crawling!"
     They crawled as fast as they could. Jaina could not  see  Jacen  and  she
could barely feel him up ahead. She hoped the bat would find the  way  through
the bushes. But what then?
     Behind her, Mistress Dragon roared and splashed and thumped. The Proctors
started yelling.
     I hope Mistress Dragon stomps them! Jaina thought.
     She caught her breath. She was  afraid  she  would  hear  the  hum  of  a
lightsaber. She was afraid Hethrir would kill Mistress Dragon with  as  little
thought as the Proctors had crushed the myrmins in their pants.
     Mistress Dragon's huge splashes sounded farther and farther away.
     Jaina grinned. Mistress Dragon is scared, too, she thought. She's running
away. She'll be safe. But I bet she scared those Proctors first.
     Jaina hoped Mistress Dragon found another succulent patch of water-weed.
     "Look!" one of the Proctors yelled. "Footprints, on the far  bank.  Let's
go!"
     "Hurry!" Jaina whispered again, expecting  every  second  to  be  dragged
backward by Hethrir's power.
     In front of her, the other children crawled as fast as they could.
     The ground got muddier and muddier.  The  knees  of  Jaina's  pants  were
soaked and filthy and so  were  her  hands.  The  leaves  of  the  bushes  got
droopier. But they fluttered away from her face, which  was  good  because  of
their spines. She hoped the little ones in front of  her  were  being  careful
about the prickles. Nobody had started to cry yet so maybe it would be okay.
     Behind her, one of the Proctors yelled in protest.
     "Ow! What are these, thorn bushes? I'm not crawling through thorn bushes!
"
     "You will," yelled the Head Proctor. "Or you'll be sorry!"
     Jaina crawled faster. The voices sounded muffled. She  was  glad  because
she did not want to listen to them.
     The trail suddenly opened out into a space beneath the  bushes.  All  the
children crouched at the edge of the wide muddy space. Jaina could see  across
it but she could not see either end of it. It was like the stream, only filled
with mud.
     Jaina crawled forward and joined Jacen.
     "Where are we?"
     "I dunno," he said. "A wallow, maybe.  For  the  critters  who  made  the
trail. The bat led us here."
     On the other side of the wallow, a huge tree rose up through the  bushes.
Its shadow darkened the gold-green of the shade beneath the bushes. Its  roots
twisted together, spreading out across the far side of the swamp.
     "Look!" Jacen pointed. The little bat flitted across the swamp and into a
dark place among the roots.
     "It's like a tunnel," Jaina said.
     "I bet it is. I bet it leads into the tree just like on Chewie's world!"
     The bat flitted out again, hovered, and vanished into the darkness.
     "How are we going to get over there?"
     "I dunno," Jacen said. "I guess the bat forgot we can't fly."
     "We better hurry," one of the other children said. "Listen!"
     The Proctors sounded nearer. They also sounded mad.
     Jacen took a big step forward into the mud.
     He immediately sank in up to his knees. He tried to take another step but
the mud sank under him. He sank to his hips.
     Jaina slid down the bank and grabbed him. She almost reached for him--but
shrank back scared that Hethrir would find them. She pulled at  Jacen's  hand,
but he kept sinking. He looked scared.
     Jaina sobbed with anger and fright.
     But then the other children clustered around  her,  reaching  for  Jacen,
grabbing his hands.
     The mud sucked at him but the children, all together, were too strong for
it. She pulled him free and onto the bank.
     Jaina hugged him. He panted, trying not to cry, trying not  to  make  any
noise that would alert the Proctors.
     "You all saved me!" he whispered.
     But they still had to get across the swamp.
     A little at a time, Jaina thought. Then Hethrir can't stop me,  he  can't
find me. A couple of molecules...
     Instead of speeding up molecules the way she speeded up the air  to  make
light and heat, the way she spun the sand into tiny  wind-devils,  she  slowed
the water molecules in the swamp.
     She slowed them and slowed them and nearly stopped them.
     A fine film of ice formed near the bank. The muddy water froze, crackling
around water-grass, cooling the warm air around them. Beautiful frost patterns
painted the surface of the ice.
     Jacen saw what she was doing and  helped  her.  Together,  they  froze  a
narrow path across the surface of the swamp.
     Jaina crawled out onto it, very carefully. It creaked and  groaned  under
her hands and knees, but she kept  freezing  little  bits  of  water  and  the
surface held. She hurried to the other side of the swamp.
     She grabbed one of the thick, twisty tree roots and  pulled  herself  off
the ice. Her hands and knees were very cold and she  was  tired  from  slowing
down so many millions and trillions and googolplexes  of  molecules.  But  she
made it across! She motioned for the other children to follow.
     One by one they came to her and clung beside her on the tree  roots.  The
four-winged bat fluttered out of the hollow root and flitted back and forth.
     Jacen came last. The ice was very weak now. It cracked and protested with
every step he took. Jaina was so  scared  she  could  hardly  keep  the  water
molecules slowed down, even with Jacen's help. He was an arm's length from her
when the ice cracked. Jacen fell face-forward in the freezing muddy water.
     Jaina grabbed his hand and pulled before he could sink very far. He  kind
of swam and kind of crawled toward her. There was no solid ground on this side
of the swamp, just the mud and the tree roots. Jacen's whole front was covered
with bits of ice and frozen grass. He flung his  arms  around  Jaina.  He  was
shivering. The little bat landed on his hair and trilled to  him.  Jaina  held
Jacen tight, trying to get him warm.
     "The hollow r-root l-leads inside," he said. His  teeth  chattered.  "All
the w-way to the top."
     "You follow the bat!" Jaina said. "It'll lead you. You lead us. I'll come
last."
     Jacen crawled into the hollow root. Jaina clung to the twisted  roots  on
the bank as the other children followed Jacen into the tree.  She  helped  the
little ones. Some of them were scared and did not want to crawl into the dark.
Jaina thought of making some glowing air to lead them, but she was  afraid  it
might set the tree on fire. Besides, she did not think she could heat  up  air
and keep water frozen at the same time.
     Finally the last of the children crawled into the tree and disappeared.
     The Head Proctor pushed his way through the prickly  bushes.  Jaina  dove
into the hollow, then squirmed around to see what the Proctors would do.
     The Proctor's face was scratched and his pale blue jumpsuit was dirty and
torn. He looked very mad. The other Proctors  fought  their  way  out  of  the
bushes behind him. They had tried to walk, instead  of  crawling  through  the
animal trail. They were all scratched and bleeding. Jaina looked at her hands.
She was muddy, but that was all.
     The Head Proctor saw the path of ice across the swamp.  He  frowned,  and
tested the surface with one foot, and stepped out onto  the  solid  patch.  He
motioned to the other Proctors. They hung back until he  yelled  at  them  and
ordered them to follow him.
     Jaina waited till he was in  the  middle  of  the  swamp  and  the  other
Proctors were strung out behind him on the ice.
     Jaina dropped the water molecules. She felt them leap apart  in  the  hot
humidity of the swamp. The ice disappeared. Jaina fled into the  hollow  root,
and she did not look back to see what was happening.
     But she could hear the shouts, and the splashes.
     She crawled faster. The inside of the hollow root was very smooth, as  if
a thousand generations of wood insects had polished the surface.
     She reached the end of the root. Above her, the  other  children  climbed
through the trunk of the tree. Their sounds echoed. The  tree  trunk  twisted,
around and around, and the twists formed a steep spiral ramp that led up  into
the darkness. Jaina thought  she  could  see  a  tiny  bit  of  daylight.  She
scrambled upward, following Jacen and the other children.

     Chapter
     10

     Lelila heard something. It was a cry from  a  far  distance,  a  call  to
someone else.
     "What did you say?"
     Geyyahab made a questioning sound. He had not spoken.
     "I said nothing," Rillao said. "What did you hear?"
     Lelila felt her mind tremble. She slapped the emergency controls  of  her
ship, and crashed out of hyperspace.
     Chewbacca howled in shock, and Rillao snarled  something  in  a  language
Lelila had never heard.
     "What are you doing? We must hurry to Asylum Stationffwas
     "Look," Lelila said.
     Before them lay a  tiny  star  and  a  tiny  blue  and  green  and  brown
planetoid.
     Artoo-Detoo trilled, Geyyahab  made  a  gruff  bark,  and  Rillao  lunged
forward in surprise. They all stared  at  the  display.  Lelila  expanded  it,
marveling.
     "It's artificial," she exclaimed. "It's too  small  to  be  natural.  The
star, the planet--"
     "It's a worldcraft," Rillao said.
     Chewbacca growled.
     "No," Rillao said. "They are not mythical. I  wish  they  were.  I  hoped
never to see one. The Emperor caused a few to be  created.  He  gave  them  as
rewards, to the cruelest and most loyal of his  officers.  Tokens,  he  called
them. His "tokens"' were a greater gift than a natural  world."  She  trembled
with tension. "It appears... he presented one to Hethrir."
     Lelila put on a  burst  of  speed.  Her  ship  arrowed  toward  the  tiny
artificial planet.
     Geyyahab  hunkered  over  the  controls,  preparing  for   evasion.   The
worldcraft had survived so long by concealment, by being nothing  but  a  tiny
spark of light, always moving, always avoiding the  spaceways.  Yet  it  might
have defenses. It might attack.
     But the worldcraft made no challenge. As far as Lelila could tell, it was
deserted. It spun beneath her. She sought a  starship.  She  found  a  landing
field, but it was empty. Its center glowed in the infrared with the heat of  a
recent departure.
     Have they all fled? she wondered. But if they fled, what brought me here?
     The starship slipped into the atmosphere,  slowed,  and  changed  to  its
soaring mode. It crossed a desert that gave way to a meadow, a stream.
     Alderaan stopped, hovering low over the flowing  silver  water.  A  great
lizard rose up from the ripples, snorting, flailing its tail.
     "There!" Rillao exclaimed.
     Beyond the stream, past a wind-rippled sea of low green  bushes,  a  huge
tree twisted upward at the edge of a marsh.
     In the marsh, a group of people struggled in the mud.  They  looked  like
they had walked to the middle before they sank. Lelila could not  imagine  how
they could have gotten themselves in such a predicament.  She  arrowed  toward
them, for they looked like they needed help. They were holding to each  other,
the ones nearest the shore desperately scrambling to reach solid  ground,  the
ones in the center trying to clamber on top of their fellows.
     Rillao's strong sharp fingers clamped around her shoulder.
     "Leave them," she said. "They aren't the ones we seek. If we  help  them,
they'll try to stop us."
     "But they're drowning!"
     "They might drown each other," Rillao said  without  sympathy.  "If  they
helped each other, if they did not panic, they would survive. If we help them-
-they will kill us."
     Geyyahab cried out with delight. He pointed to the branches of  the  huge
twisted tree.
     There, on a branch as wide as a garden path, a group  of  children  stood
high above the ground. They waved joyfully at Alderaan.
     The ship lowered itself gently beside them. Lelila jumped up and ran back
to the hatch. Rillao followed. They opened the hatch to fresh  air,  a  gentle
breeze, the scent of growing things, and the excited cries of welcome  of  the
children.
     Lelila's sight was blurred. She pushed her hair out of her eyes, but that
did not help her see.
     I'm crying, she thought. Why am I crying? I should be happy,  I've  found
my quarry.
     She blinked away the tears.
     "Mama! Mamaffwas
     Lelila the bounty hunter vanished as if she had never been.
     Jaina leaped into Leia's arms, jumping across a sheer drop to the  marsh.
Chewbacca quickly moved  Alderaan  closer  to  the  tree  branch.  Jacen  took
Rillao's hand and stepped gravely onto the ship.
     Leia knelt and hugged Jaina and Jacen, then held them  against  her  with
one arm. She could not bear to let them go, even as she  reached  out  to  the
children still standing in the tree. With  Rillao's  help,  all  the  children
climbed from the tree and into Alderaan.
     "Mama, Mama! They took Anakin and they took Mr. Chamberlain's wyrwulf and
they took Lusa, we have to find them before they cut off Lusa's horns!"
     "We knew you weren't dead, Mama," Jacen said. "Is--is Papa all right?  Is
Uncle Luke--? Is Chewie flying Alderaan?"
     Leia nodded. "Yes. Yes, they're all fine. Chewie's here."
     "I knew it!" Jaina said. "I knew Hethrir told a  lie.  He  told  lots  of
lies."
     "He's a mean man," Jacen said. "I don't want him to be my hold-father!"
     "He is not your hold-father, children," Rillao said. "Is  that  everyone?
No one left in the tree?"
     "Wait!" Jacen said. He leaned toward the  open  hatch  and  whistled  and
chittered. Leia held him, afraid he might vanish, leap  back  into  the  tree,
slip out of her arms ever again--
     A tiny four-winged bat flitted into Alderaan and landed in Jacen's hair.
     "That's everybody!" Jacen said. The hallway and both cabins  were  packed
with children, all of them muddy and scratched, but all  of  them  unhurt  and
excited, crying or screaming or shouting.
     "I wanna go home!" one of the little ones cried.
     Rillao closed the hatch. "We shall find your home, little one, and return
you to it."
     Jacen patted Leia's undone hair. "Mama, your hair's so long!"
     "And it's such a different color," Jaina said. "I like it the old way!"
     Leia touched her hair. She had forgotten it was down. She  had  forgotten
the color-crawlers had changed it. She  pushed  it  back  from  her  face  and
twisted it into a knot at the back of her  neck.  She  could  not  speak.  She
buried her face against their shoulders.
     They hugged her.
     Her hair fell down again. She left it loose.
     "Mama, I lost my front tooth! I'm getting a new one!  I'm  getting  grown
up!" Jaina said.
     "Both my front teeth are loose!" Jacen said.
     Leia gasped in a long breath and held it, to keep herself from crying.
     "It's okay, Mama. We're okay. All we have to do is rescue Anakin--"
     his--and Mr. Chamberlain's wyrwulf--"
     his--and Lusaffwas
     Alderaan hovered above the swamp. Chewbacca roared a  question  down  the
hall.
     "Chewie!" Jaina ducked out of Leia's grasp, grabbed her hand, and pulled.
Leia rose and let Jaina and Jacen lead her back to Alderaan's control chamber,
slipping around and past the  other  children.  Jaina  and  Jacen  piled  into
Chewbacca's lap, hugging and kissing him. He enfolded them in  his  long  arms
and growled with joy and relief that they were safe.
     "You're all speckled!" Jaina exclaimed. She laughed, petting his brindled
fur.
     "Be careful of Chewbacca's leg, children," Leia said. She was  astonished
that her voice was almost steady.
     "Oh, wow!" Jacen said.
     "What happened?" Jaina asked.
     "He'll tell you later," Leia said. "For now we should save  those  people
in the swamp."
     "I think we should leave them there," Jaina said. "They aren't very nice.
"
     "But it wouldn't be nice to leave them, either," Jacen said.
     "We should make them tell us where Anakin is," Jaina said. "And Lusa, and
Mr. Chamberlain's wyrwulf. And then we should drop them back in the mud!"  She
jumped out of Chewbacca's arms and ran to Leia again. "I'm so dirty, Mama! And
hungry! We found some fruit. But the food Hethrir--he isn't really  our  hold-
father, is he? - - the food he gave us was nasty!"
     Leia could not help but  laugh.  Jaina  and  Jacen  filled  part  of  the
emptiness in her heart, though she still feared for her littlest one. She saw,
with horror and fury, how gaunt the other children were. Hethrir  had  starved
them, and would have starved her children, too.
     "No more nasty food," she said. "I'll make something good for all of you.
No, my sweeties, Hethrir isn't your hold-father. Our  friend  is  right."  She
gestured toward Rillao, standing in the doorway. She introduced  her  children
to the Firrerreo. "This is Jaina, and this is Jacen."
     "What's your name?" Jaina asked.
     "Jaina!" Jacen said, shocked.
     "You may call me Firrerreo, little one," Rillao said. "When  I  know  you
better, perhaps I'll tell you my name."
     "You look just like Tigris," Jaina said.
     "Where did you see him?" Rillao asked, her voice so  intense  that  Jaina
took one apprehensive step back. "Is he here? Is he with Hethrir?  Is  Hethrir
here?"
     "Are you his mama?" Jaina asked.
     "Yes, little one," Rillao said. "And I have not seen him in a long  time.
I miss him very much."
     Leia grasped Rillao's hand. "We'll find him. Don't worry, we'll find him.
"
     While  they  spoke,  Chewbacca  dropped  Alderaan  to  just   above   the
struggling, muddy mob, and loosed a cable for them to  grab.  He  used  Leia's
ship as their anchor, and watched while they pulled themselves out of the mud.
He could have pulled them out with the strength of the ship. But he did not.
     Rillao hurried to the display and expanded it. She  searched  the  group,
then turned away, downcast.
     "Tigris isn't one of those Proctors," Jaina said.
     "Where is he? What is he doing?"
     "He... I don't know," Jaina said. "Mostly he followed Hethrir around. And
he took Anakin."
     "Hethrir told him to," Jacen said.
     Jaina glowered at Rillao. "He kept trying to act mean."
     "But he wasn't, not really," Jacen said.
     Alderaan swooped. Chewbacca herded the  Proctors  through  the  stand  of
bushes and across the stream.
     "Make them go in the desert, Chewieffwas Jaina said. "There's a place  we
can keep them where they can't be mean to anybody!"
     The huge pink and black and tan lizard exploded from the  center  of  the
stream, flinging her head up, lashing her tail, roaring in challenge at Leia's
starship. Water splashed in great sprays, like rain falling  upward.  Sunlight
reflected through the droplets, cloaking the enormous lizard in rainbows.  The
creature lumbered across the stream, following Alderaan. It climbed the  bank.
Its claws left great gouges in the mud.
     "Look, Mama, Mistress Dragon is coming, too." Jacen grinned. "I  bet  she
got tired of taking a bath, and she wants to go back to her sand nest."
     Mistress Dragon followed the Proctors into the desert. As she  caught  up
to them, they tried to run. They all looked exhausted.
     "Did my son tell you his name, children?" Rillao asked.
     Jaina wrinkled her nose in deep thought. "No, that was Hethrir  who  told
us."
     "Hethrir..." Rillao said softly, dangerously.

     The deck of the starship was cold and hard,  even  harder  than  Tigris's
steel bunk on the worldcraft. At least back on the worldcraft he  had  a  thin
mattress and a blanket. Sometimes he slept without them, to  toughen  himself.
Tonight, he wished he had them. A faint  breath  of  warm  air  trickled  from
beneath Hethrir's door. A faint buzzing sound came with it.  At  first  Tigris
thought it might be a snore,  but  he  banished  the  improper  thought.  Lord
Hethrir had said he would meditate; he would  naturally  focus  his  attention
with a chant.
     Another noise  came  to  him,  from  the  passenger  compartment  of  the
starship. Anakin was crying again, with an  exhausted  sob.  Tigris  tried  to
ignore him, tried to disregard how hungry the child  must  be.  He  could  not
understand why the Proctors had not soothed him and fed him.
     His own stomach growled. That was easy to ignore. He would not  eat  till
Lord Hethrir bade him to.
     But the Lord had not commanded him to  remain  here  all  night.  He  had
merely given Tigris permission to sleep here, if he wished.  Surely  it  would
cause no harm to attend to the child. It was important for Anakin to be strong
and alert when he was purified.
     Tigris rose silently and crept down the dim  corridor  to  the  passenger
compartment.
     Except for Anakin, it was empty. All  the  Proctors  had  gone  to  their
cabins to sleep or gamble.
     Anakin's face was smudged and blotchy with crying. He  stared  warily  at
Tigris.
     "Come along, little one," Tigris  said.  "You  must  be  lonely,  all  by
yourself. And hungry. Let's get you cleaned up, and find you some  supper.  We
have to be quiet, though, so we won't disturb Lord Hethrir."
     He unfastened the harness and offered his hand to Anakin. Anakin took it,
slid down from the couch, and followed Tigris quietly and obediently.
     A little later, they found fruit and bread and milk in the ship's galley.
Anakin ate hungrily. With a mustache of milk,  and  crumbs  on  his  chin,  he
offered Tigris a half-eaten slice of bread.
     "Supper!" he said.
     "No, thank you," Tigris said, strangely touched, reprimanding himself not
only for being touched but for being tempted to take the  bread  and  dunk  it
into the glass of milk and eat it. "That's your supper."
     "Share!" Anakin said.
     "No, thank you," Tigris said again.
     "Anakin want cookie," Anakin said.
     "Lord Hethrir doesn't eat cookies!" Tigris exclaimed, shocked.
     Anakin pushed his lower lip out stubbornly.
     "No cookies!" Tigris said.
     "Papa," Anakin said. "Papa, Mama..."
     He was about to cry again. Tigris wiped Anakin's face with  the  edge  of
his sleeve, hoping to distract him. He stopped sniffling.
     "I want my papa," he said.
     Tigris knelt beside him and gazed into his eyes.
     "Anakin, little one," he said, "there's something  you  must  know.  Your
mama and your papa don't want you anymore. Lord  Hethrir  saved  you,  adopted
you. As he adopted me, and all of us."
     Anakin scowled. He gnawed on a piece of fruit, thoughtfully and silently.
He did not start to cry again.
     "What is this? A picnic?"
     Tigris leaped to his feet, startled and dismayed. Lord Hethrir  stood  in
the doorway, elegant as always in his long white robes, though  his  hair  was
disarranged.
     "I beg your pardon, sir," Tigris said. "The child--I thought--"
     "Be quiet. Put the child back in his place. Your permission to attend  me
is revoked. You will stay in the passenger compartment with  the  child  until
the voyage is ended."
     Hethrir left them, striding away. He had not even raised his  voice,  but
Tigris trembled. Whatever good impression he had somehow managed to  make,  it
was destroyed. He glanced at Anakin in irritation. Destroyed  because  of  the
child...
     Tigris sighed. Much as he wanted to blame his disgrace on  someone  else,
in good conscience he could not.
     He turned to Anakin.
     The child offered him a sticky piece of fruit.
     "Supper?" Anakin said.
     Tigris accepted the slice of fruit. He ate it. It tasted delicious.
     In the passenger compartment, cut off from the sight of space and  stars,
Tigris and Anakin waited together while Lord Hethrir landed at Crseih Station,
better known in the trade as Asylum.

     Alderaan hovered above a low, massive compound, a windowless stockade  of
huge gray stones, built atop a hill. The Proctors trudged up the slope  toward
it, a dejected group.
     Jaina pointed to a canyon that split the  hillside  below  the  stockade.
"That's where we played, Mama," she said.
     "And Mistress Dragon lives in the dunes," Jacen said.
     "We never got to go in  the  house,"  Jaina  said,  gazing  down  at  the
stockade. "We were underground."
     "In long dark tunnels!" Jacen said.
     "And little tiny rooms. With no light!"
     "Oh, my dears," Leia said softly.
     Alderaan landed near the courtyard of  the  stockade.  Leia  disembarked,
followed by Jaina and Jacen, all the other children, and Rillao and Chewbacca.
     "Will you search the compound?" Leia asked Rillao and Chewbacca.
     Chewbacca growled.
     "And leave you here alone with them?" Rillao said in a tone  of  protest.
She gestured toward the group  of  Proctors  straggling  into  the  courtyard.
Mistress Dragon ambled along behind them.
     The Proctors staggered across the cobblestones and  flung  themselves  at
Leia's feet.
     "Madam, your mercy, we beg you!"
     They looked as if they had been on a desperate campaign. Their  skin  was
blotched with insect bites. Their clothes were torn from the bushes and  muddy
from the swamp. Their feet were swollen and blistered from  the  tramp  across
the desert.
     "I think I'll be all right," Leia said dryly.
     "Very well."
     Rillao and Chewbacca  crossed  the  compound  and  disappeared  down  the
staircase into the stockade.
     Mistress Dragon lumbered in behind the Proctors, snortling  and  roaring.
The Proctors shuddered and flattened themselves to the  ground  and  lay  very
still, though their mud-stained blue uniforms gave them no camouflage  against
the stones.
     "Please,  my  lady,"  whispered  the  Proctor  with  the  most  elaborate
decorations on his shoulders and sleeves. "Save us from these plagues.  Please
don't feed us to the dragon!"
     Mistress Dragon lay down near them with a great "Huff!"  of  breath.  She
lashed her tail. The Proctor ducked, flattening himself to the ground again.
     "Beg the pardon of my--" Leia revised what she had begun to say. "Beg the
pardon of all these children," she said. "Then I'll consider mercy."
     It occurred to her that if Mistress Dragon decided to snack on a  Proctor
or two, she had no way of stopping the beast.
     The Proctor lay still, facedown, humiliated.  Then  his  terror  and  his
discomfort overcame his embarrassment. He crawled slowly - - keeping his  head
very low--ffthe children gathered behind Leia.
     "I beg your pardon," he said.
     "Promise that you'll never behave toward another being as you've  behaved
toward these children."
     "I promise," he said.
     "Now stand up, and remove that nonsense from your shoulders."
     He balked at that, but she stared him down. He rose,  glancing  over  his
shoulder at Mistress Dragon (who closed her eyes and snored), then pulled away
the jeweled patches from his uniform.
     Each of the Proctors made a similar promise. The pile of  insignia  grew.
While the Proctors watched, Leia handed  their  epaulets  and  medals  to  the
children to use as toys and decorations.
     "Where are the other children?" Leia asked the leader  of  the  Proctors.
"Where did Hethrir take them?"
     "I don't know, madam," he said.
     She could see a tiny flare of fear in him. He was not exactly lying,  but
he was not telling her the whole truth, either.
     "Where might they be?" she asked, her voice a cutting edge.  "The  little
child Anakin, and the youth Tigris--"
     In the back of the group, one of the  Proctors  snickered  nastily.  Leia
silenced him with a glance.
     "And Lusaffwas Jaina said.
     "And Mr. Chamberlain's wyrwulf!" Jacen said.
     The Head Proctor stared at the ground.
     "It will go better for you, if you tell me," she said.
     "The Lord Hethrir... he culled the group only yesterday."
     "Culled them?" Leia felt her skin grow cold, and her heart angry.
     "Only to sell, madam!" the Proctor said. "Then he departed--"
     "To Asylum Station?"
     "Yes, madam. He took the child Anakin. And Tigris--"
     "Such contempt," Leia said with wonder at his tone of voice.
     "Tigris is weak! The Lord Hethrir wouldn't even make him a  helper!"  The
Proctor sneered. "He had  to  serve  at  table,  and  nursemaid  the  youngest
children--"
     "And you believe that task isn't fitting for  a  strong  young  Proctor?"
Leia said easily.
     "Children are useless until they're old enough to serve the cause of  the
Empire Rebornffwas
     "No one will serve the Empire Reborn," Leia said. "Not ever again."
     Defiantly, the Proctor raised his arms and cried, "The Empire Rebornffwas
     If he had not been so pathetic, so young, Leia would have been angry.  As
it was, she glanced at the bedraggled Proctors and she glanced  at  the  tired
band of children who had bested them.
     She laughed. The Head Proctor flinched as if  she  had  struck  him.  And
then, at least, he had the intelligence to look abashed.
     "Now," Leia said, "we'll find a place for you where you'll make  no  more
trouble."
     "I know where to put them!" Jaina said.
     Jaina led the way through long, dark tunnels  to  a  huge,  low-ceilinged
room as oppressive as a cave. She flung open one of the doors that  lined  its
walls and showed Leia one of the tiny dark cells.
     "This is where we had to sleep! In the  dark!  So  they  should  have  to
sleep--"
     Appalled though she was by the  cells,  Leia  put  her  hand  on  Jaina's
shoulder. Her daughter fell silent and looked up at her, angry and confused.
     "They asked for my mercy," Leia said. "And they asked your pardon--"
     "They didn't really mean it," Jaina muttered.
     his--and  we  won't  treat  them  harshly.  We  mustn't   take   revenge,
sweetheart. That  isn't  just."  She  looked  over  the  bedraggled  group  of
Proctors, realizing how young they all  were.  She  addressed  them  directly.
"However, we have no other place to keep you where you will  be  safe."  Where
you can't get into mischief, Leia thought. "You must stay in this  hall,  with
the door locked. You may use the cells--if you like."
     Leia knew from the stubborn set of her daughter's jaw that Jaina was  far
from satisfied, and Leia did not blame her.
     "If one of them's bad," Jaina said, "and you have to shut  him  in--don't
use my cell." She pointed at one of the doors, indistinguishable from all  the
rest. "Because I broke the latch!"
     Leia knelt beside her and hugged her. "It was very clever  and  brave  of
you to do that."
     "And I put sand in their pants and Jacen made the myrmins bite them!"
     Jacen looked at the floor. "But the Proctors killed them.  The  myrmins,"
he said softly.
     Leia hugged him tight. "Oh, my dear. My dear child." She  held  his  face
between her hands and kissed him  on  the  forehead.  "That  makes  them  hero
myrmins--doesn't it?" He nodded, only a little comforted.
     As Leia shepherded the children  from  the  gathering  hall,  Rillao  and
Chewbacca met her.
     "I found another group of children," Rillao said.
     "Those are the helpers!" Jaina said. "They do whatever Hethrir tells them
to, they're even meaner than the Proctors."
     Leia exchanged a look of concern with Rillao.
     These young helpers, Leia thought, may be much harder to liberate than my
children, and the children who resisted Hethrir with them.
     "And we found the cook and her assistants. Lelila, we must hurry, Hethrir
is going to Asylum Station--"
     "So the Head Proctor told me. The Indexer was right. But first we have to
see to--"
     She gestured around her, distressed. Her strongest desire  was  to  fling
Alderaan back into hyperspace and follow Hethrir.
     But she could not leave the  stolen  children  out  here  in  nowhere  by
themselves. Leia hesitated, wondering whether it would be harder  to  persuade
Rillao to stay behind, or Chewbacca.
     Chewbacca whuffled.
     "Oh!" Leia said. "Of course--"
     "We will take them with us," Rillao said. "We will take the worldcraft."
     "We'll take it away from here," Leia said. "But we'll send it to safety."
     "A practical suggestion, Lelila."
     "How long will it take to move it?"
     "Only a few minutes," Rillao said. "In hyperspace, the worldcraft  is  as
fast as any other ship. I will chart our course." She strode away,  the  green
silk pantaloons whipping around her ankles.
     For the sake of the other children, Leia forced herself  into  a  fragile
calmness. Only a few minutes, she thought.
     Jacen looked up at her, his brown eyes wide. "It will be all right, Mama,
" he said. "We'll find Anakin."
     Leia knelt and hugged him, hugged both her twins.
     "I know we will. Very soon."
     Jaina leaned against her. "I'm so hungry, Mama."
     "Let's go find everyone some dinner," Leia said.
     The group of children cheered raggedly.
     Jacen led the way toward the dining hall. As they approached, a tall  and
massive six-legged being lumbered down  the  corridor  toward  them,  tendrils
wrapped around the handle of a great steaming cauldron.  Leia  recognized  the
being as a Veubg, from a culture she remembered with great affection.
     "That's Grake," Jaina whispered. "Who threw us food."
     The being stopped.
     "What are you doing, Grake?" Leia asked.
     "Taking the children's gruel to the Proctors," Grake said. "The Proctors'
dinner is on the table for the children."
     The children cheered and rushed down the hall.  Chewbacca  hurried  after
them, to be sure everyone got a share.
     "Go," Leia said to Jaina and Jacen.  "Go  with  Chewbacca  and  get  some
supper."
     They ran after their friend.
     Leia glanced into the cauldron Grake was carrying.
     "This is dreadful," she said. "It looks like old dishwater. Whatever were
you planning to do with it?"
     "Give it to the Proctors," Grake said. "To see how they like it."
     "That's out of the question." Leia stopped. "You said  -  -  th  was  the
children's supper?"
     Grake would not meet Leia's gaze.
     "How could you serve this to children?"
     "How could I not, madam?"
     Leia waited.
     "Lord Hethrir ordered it."
     "You had the choice whether to follow the order or not!"
     "I did not, madam."
     "Because you needed the job? Because he'd be angry at you?"
     "Because I'm a slave, madam. Because Lord Hethrir has the power  of  life
and death and punishment over me."
     Shocked, unable to speak for a moment, Leia gently took the cauldron from
Grake. Then she put her hands into the mass of Grake's tendrils, and  let  the
tendrils wrap around her fingers.
     "I am most sincerely sorry for the manner in which I spoke to you,"  Leia
said to Grake. "You are no longer a slave. You are free.  I  cannot  take  you
home for a little while yet. But I will."
     Grake trembled.
     "Thank you, madam," she said, her voice soft and rough.
     "Will you show me the kitchen?" Leia said. "And the laundry? There's work
for me to do."
     "What am I to do?"
     "Whatever pleases you."
     "It pleases me to cook real food for the children."
     "You do understand that you're free?"
     "I do understand, madam. That's why it pleases me."
     "Thank you, then," Leia  said.  She  smiled  ruefully.  "I've  never  had
occasion to learn to be a good cook."
     "Come along," Grake said patiently. "Never too late to  start  learning."
She hesitated, glancing at the cauldron. "What about this?"
     "We'll throw it out," Leia said. "And send bread, and fruit,  and  soup--
real soup--ffthe Proctors."
     "Because it pleases us," Grake said.

     Tigris had passed his childhood on a remote, boring, pastoral world, kept
from his destiny. Since Lord Hethrir rescued him, he had lived  on  the  quiet
worldcraft.
     Tigris loved Crseih Station.
     The welcome dome of Crseih always overwhelmed  him  with  its  noise  and
activity. People poked at him, plucked his sleeve, offered him sweetmeats  and
jewelry and a selection of robes, one of them a silky white one that he wanted
more than he had ever wanted anything material in his life.
     But as  Lord  Hethrir  preferred,  he  walked  without  pausing,  without
allowing himself to be visibly tempted.
     Anakin reached for one of the sweetmeats. The sweetmeat-monger  drew  the
tray away, spiraling its wrinkly arms, and the tray, out of Anakin's grasp.
     "Patience, small person," the being said. "You must pay, first."
     "Pay?" Tigris asked, curiously. He knew the concept of paying,  but  only
in context of Lord Hethrir's political dealings and  his  involvement  in  the
trade. Pay for food, for clothing? He tried to remember if  he  had  paid  for
anything when he was a child. He had a vague memory of trading, of being given
gifts, of his mother providing aid to one of the other villagers, then finding
a bushel of fruit or a brace of game or a length of cloth on the doorstep  the
next morning.
     "Yes, pay! You are not a beggar  and  I  am  not  a  d-gder."  The  being
extended an eyestalk and bent its eye  up  and  down,  regarding  Tigris.  "Or
perhaps you are a beggar."
     Lord Hethrir had not even paused. He strode away, followed by the phalanx
of his Proctors. In a moment they  would  disappear  into  the  crowd.  Tigris
scooped Anakin up and  hurried  away  from  the  sweetmeat-monger.  The  being
followed, bulging along with limber gracelessness.
     "This is not a transaction of world-shaking magnitude," the being said.
     "I have no account," Tigris said. "Nothing to transfer to you."
     "No one makes a transfer to buy a sweetmeat!  Where  are  you  from,  the
planet of foolish people? All it requires is a coin of the least magnitude."
     "Excuse me," Tigris said, slipping  between  two  groups  of  beings  and
nearly getting tangled  in  their  tentacles.  He  had  not  realized,  before
interposing himself between them, that they were engaging in some  unexplained
interaction.
     The sweetmeat-monger caught up with him on the other side of the group of
tentacled beings. Tigris wiped slime from his face and his sleeve.
     "I see you are from the planet of the foolish people,"  the  being  said.
"You aren't safe to be around, even to make a sale. Your pardon, small person,
" it said to Anakin, and disappeared.
     Tigris rushed through the crowd, heedless of giving  offense,  trying  to
catch up to the end of the marching Proctors. His lord walked quickly. A  path
opened before Lord Hethrir. But Tigris had to edge through. He  did  his  best
not to run into anyone else. He wished Lord Hethrir were unaware of his moment
of distraction, his fascination with the material things being offered to  him
at the entryway.
     Especially the white robe.
     He knows what's happening behind him, Tigris thought. He always knows.
     He labored after Hethrir, Anakin growing heavier and heavier in his arms.
Hethrir never looked back.

     The children ate with desperate appetite. It broke Leia's heart to  watch
them. She sat in the dining hall with Jaina and Jacen, unable to eat  anything
herself. She cautioned the children not to eat too quickly, or too  much.  She
feared that nevertheless there would be upset stomachs tonight.
     "I want to go home," said one of the little ones. "I want  to  go  home!"
Soon all the children were clamoring for their homes, their families.
     Leia knew exactly how they felt.
     As Leia calmed the children, Rillao entered the dining hall.
     "We'll take you home soon," Leia said. "I promise. For now,  a  nice  hot
bath and a nice warm bed. How does that sound?"
     She saw a few trembly lips and teary eyes; they wanted to go home now and
Leia did not blame them.
     She only hoped their families could be found. Had Hethrir murdered  their
families in order to steal them? [they all from the passenger freighters? Or--
were their families the people Winter had gone  to  meet,  who  thought  their
children had run away?
     Rillao perched on the bench beside Jaina.
     "The worldcraft will enter hyperspace soon," Rillao said softly to  Leia.
"Before morning, we'll reach Asylum Station."

     Hethrir strode into a lodge in a quiet  park.  The  only  sound  was  the
ripple and splash of the water in the pools and streams of the  lobby.  Tigris
followed. Anakin wriggled to get down. Tigris let him free,  gratefully,  then
had to hurry after him as the little boy headed straight for the  irresistible
ponds. He crouched down and splashed at the edge of a still circle  of  water,
patting the surface to spread ripples.
     "My lord." The rainbow whirlwind wavered into view, hovering above one of
the streams. "All is ready for you."
     "Have my guests arrived?" Hethrir asked.
     "Yes, my lord," the whirlwind host replied. "They will gather to meet you
when--"
     A purple humanoid droid clattered into the lobby.
     "I simply do not understand," the purple droid said, "why you're being so
disagreeable about this situation."
     The purple droid followed a service droid, gesturing  as  he  spoke.  The
service droid's large carrying surface bore  a  couple  of  small  valises,  a
scattering of opened and unopened emergency ration packs, and a battered bunch
of ugly flowers without a vase.
     The  carrying  droid  rumbled  a  reply  comprehensible   only   in   its
indifference.
     "Halt!" said the host. Its rainbow colors  brightened  in  a  threatening
manner.
     The service droid lurched to a halt. The ugly flowers  scattered  on  the
floor.
     "What do you mean, performing an eviction through the front door?"
     "This is quite absurd!" the purple droid said. "We are no more than hours
late with the rent. My human companions will return soon and pay you! They are
very busy people!"
     The service droid snatched up  the  spilled  flowers  with  its  pincers,
breaking the stems and littering the floor with  crushed  petals.  The  petals
oozed pale fluid. Lord Hethrir watched without expression. The Proctors  stood
in perfect array, but the droid's distress amused them.
     "Mr. Threepffwas Anakin shouted. He ran to  the  purple  droid,  bouncing
with excitement. Tigris bolted after him but could not keep him from fastening
his arms around the strange droid's leg.
     "Master Anakin?" the droid said. "Master Anakin! Whatever are  you  doing
here? Where are your brother and sister? Where is Prin--yr mother?"
     "Bring the child back," Hethrir said.
     "Who are you, sir?" the droid asked Hethrir. "I have not been  instructed
that you are permitted to attend Master Anakinffwas
     "You have mistaken this child for someone else. You are in error. Perhaps
you need your brain circuits wiped."
     Tigris hurried to Anakin and managed to pry his  little  hands  from  the
droid's knee. The droid tried to interfere, but Tigris fended him off.  Anakin
shrieked wildly. He kicked at Tigris's shins.
     "Ow!" Tigris said. "Don't, Anakin, come away, leave the Mr. Droid  alone.
Your pardon, sir."
     "Who are you, young sir? What are you doing with Master Anakin?"
     As soon as Tigris freed Anakin from the droid's legs, Lord Hethrir strode
past him, drawing his lightsaber.
     The lightsaber flamed wildly. Its energy blade arced through the  droid's
head and body. The handle back-flashed. Sparks pierced  the  air,  searing  it
into ozone. Lord Hethrir shouted  a  curse--his  high-pitched  shout  startled
Tigris even more than the failure of the lightsaber--and dropped  the  handle.
The blade seared a fissure into the smooth flagstone, flashed  to  brilliance,
and faded.
     Tigris had never seen anything like it.
     The droid, frozen in place, toppled onto the stone  floor  with  a  great
metallic clank. He shivered violently, then fell quiet.  Purple  paint  flaked
from him, revealing patchy bits of gold.
     Anakin screamed and struggled. "Mr. Threep! Mr. Threep!"
     Tigris scooped him up and held him, despite his crying and kicking.
     "It's all right, little one," he whispered. "Shh, shh."
     Confused and angry and  exhausted  after  the  long  trip  and  the  long
confinement, Anakin lapsed into frustrated sobs.
     "Fetch my lightsaber," Hethrir said to Tigris.
     Frightened but resolute, Tigris bent down awkwardly,  holding  Anakin  in
one arm, and picked up the pommel of the lightsaber.  He  was  sure  it  would
explode; instead, it felt dead in his hand. He offered it to Lord Hethrir, but
the Lord ignored him.
     "I do beg your pardon for this unforgivable disturbance,"  the  whirlwind
host said to Lord Hethrir. "The droid clearly has twisted circuits. It already
tried to defraud me!"
     "Secure the droid," Hethrir said. "It's dangerous. Later perhaps we  will
wipe it and recycle it."
     "Very well, my lord," the whirlwind said.
     The service droid wrestled the collapsed droid onto its carrying  surface
and rolled away into the shadows.
     Anakin stared at the service droid, and at the comatose purple  and  gold
droid, with wide, frightened eyes.
     "Mr. Threep," he whispered.
     Lord Hethrir put one hand on his forehead and gazed down at him.
     "It can't be of use to you, little one," he said.  "We're  the  ones  who
will take care of you."

     In the Proctors' large, airy dormitory, Leia and her comrades  moved  the
beds together to form a sleeping platform big enough for all the children. The
cupboards held extra blankets and comforters, enough for everyone to be toasty
warm even with the windows open.
     Rillao and Artoo-Detoo went to handle the worldship's controls during the
entrance into hyperspace, while Chewbacca and Leia  tucked  the  children  in.
Jaina and Jacen sat on the sleeping platform but did not get under the covers.
     "I want to stay with you, Mama," Jaina whispered. "Me, too," Jacen said.
     "You aren't too sleepy?"
     Jacen shook his head. Jaina yawned.
     "I have to go over to Alderaan," Leia said. "Would you like to come  with
me, and sleep in my cabin?"
     Both twins nodded energetically.
     "The ground is going to shake," Leia said to all the children. "Just  for
a little while. It means the worldcraft  is  moving.  There's  nothing  to  be
scared of. Chewbacca will be right here with you."
     The children snuggled contentedly under their blankets.
     Chewbacca crooned a cradle song from his  homeworld.  As  Leia  left  the
dormitory with Jaina and Jacen, several of the little ones climbed out of  bed
and scampered to the Wookiee, to cuddle against his brindled fur. He  put  his
arms around them all, and continued his ^wless song.
     Leia smiled. Children took to Chewbacca instantly.
     Leia took Jaina and Jacen to her cabin and tucked them into her bunk  and
sat with them. Jacen's four-winged bat fluttered up  to  the  ceiling,  landed
against the wall, and clung there.
     Alderaan shuddered beneath them. The worldcraft and its tiny  sun  pulled
at each other, accelerating, and the ground quaked and rumbled.
     Jaina sat up, excited, and Jacen patted the bulkhead beside him.
     "It's like taking off!" Jaina said.
     "Exactly like," Leia said.
     The worldcraft transited into hyperspace. The shuddering  stopped.  Jaina
wriggled back down under the covers.
     "We're going to rescue Anakin, aren't we?" she asked. "And Lusa--bbf they
cut off her horns!"
     "Yes," Leia said, hoping she was telling the truth. Now that they were in
hyperspace, she looked and listened for Anakin. She could  find  no  trace  of
him.
     "I missed you so much, Mamaffwas Jaina said, holding her hand.
     "I missed you, too, my darling.  Do  you  know  I  followed  you  through
hyperspace? I could feel you calling to me. I  almost  lost  you--but  then  I
heard you again."
     Jaina flung herself into Leia's arms. "Every time we  tried  to  use  the
Force, Hethrir stopped us! We tried to use the barrier! To protect Anakin. But
he stopped us! I know I wasn't supposed to do  anything  else,  without  Uncle
Luke, but I thought--we tried--he's still stopping us, but we could do  little
things--"
     "It's all right, Jaina. It's all right. I'm so proud of you both."
     She tucked them in, pulling a warm blanket up around them.
     "Mama?" Jaina asked.
     "Yes, sweetie."
     "Can you make him stop?"
     "Make who stop? Stop what?"
     "Jaina and I can't hear each other," Jacen said, "like Uncle Luke  taught
us."
     Leia frowned with concern.
     "Sweetheart, why not?"
     "Because Hethrir won't let us!"
     "But he isn't here, darlings. He's nowhere near, he can't touch you."
     Both children stared at her, wanting to believe her but afraid.
     "He still can," Jaina whispered.
     Leia closed her eyes and opened  herself  to  the  widest  range  of  her
perceptions.
     She found nothing. She reached, as far as she could. She could  feel  her
children's fear, she could  feel  what  they  had  experienced  while  Hethrir
controlled them. Her heart trembled, near breaking.
     "He isn't here," she said again. "You're safe now."
     Jaina and Jacen hugged each other. The glimmer  of  their  barrier  shone
around them, then vanished like a spark, beneath the waterfall of their  fear.
Hethrir was gone, but he had left behind him such fear  that  Leia  could  not
touch it.
     Leia scooped her children up and hugged them. Jaina and  Jacen  held  her
desperately tight.
     Rillao ran into the cabin, her hair flying and her eyes wide.
     "What are you doing? Who are you? Who--" She stared at the children, then
turned her gaze to Leia. "You are Jedi," she said.
     Leia shook her head. "No," she said. "I'm  untrained,  the  children  are
just beginning their training--How did you know?"
     "You just gave me the worst headache I have ever suffered in my life."
     "Make Hethrir go away, Mama," Jacen said.
     "He's gone, dear one. He can't touch you now."
     But Jaina and Jacen stared at her,  unable  to  believe  Hethrir  had  no
distant control over them.
     Rillao sat on the bed beside Leia and her children. With the tip  of  her
finger, she stroked Jaina's hair, then Jacen's, delicately. They  both  looked
up, wide-eyed, frightened and fascinated.
     "Your mama is right," Rillao said. "Hethrir has no  power  to  touch  you
anymore."
     Rillao spoke softly. As she spoke, as she stroked  the  children's  hair,
the strands of terror within Jaina and Jacen disappeared beneath her touch.
     Leia watched, astonished.
     "Better, now?" Rillao asked.
     Jaina and Jacen hesitated for a moment, as if they  had  been  shut  away
from sunlight for so long that they could not believe its return.  Then  Jaina
laughed aloud and Jacen smiled. They leaped up. They grabbed  hands  and  spun
around and around; they grabbed Leia's hand, and Rillao's, and drew them  into
their circle. The children's barrier  spiraled  up  around  them  all  like  a
glowing whirlwind. Their laughter filled the room.
     They fell down, deliberately,  laughing  and  giggling.  Leia  fell  down
beside them and hugged them.
     Rillao sat on her heels nearby, watching, with a silent smile.
     "Thank you, thank you!" Jaina cried. Jacen watched Rillao gravely.  "Yes,
thank you," he said.
     "You're welcome." Rillao turned to Leia. "We must speak."
     "Yes. We must." Leia gathered up the twins. "You're getting so big!"  she
said. She put them back into her bunk and tucked  them  in  again.  They  were
exhausted, but calm. She kissed them and sat beside them. In a moment they had
fallen asleep.
     Rillao had left the cabin. Leia found her in the copilot's chair, staring
out the forward port, into the worldcraft's sky, her face illuminated  by  the
lights of hyperspace.
     "Who are you?" Leia asked. "You're  a  Jedi,  aren't  you?  A  real  Jedi
Knight."
     "I was," Rillao whispered.
     Leia sat in the pilot's chair and turned toward the Firrerreo.
     "Tell me."
     "I was a student... of Lord Vader."
     "But--" Leia protested.
     Rillao stopped her with a gesture. "He taught us in  secret.  Even  after
the Empire declared our people subhuman, and destroyed us, he kept  me...  and
one other."
     "And when the Empire fell, you both fled."  Leia  spoke  coolly,  holding
herself under tight control so she would not reveal her horror. Rillao, a pawn
of the Empire?
     "It is not quite that simple," Rillao said. "When  we  were  young,  just
beginning our studies, we both... we fell in love.
     "Lord Vader believed we would produce a child with extraordinary  talent,
one he could bend to the use of the Empire."
     "And... did you?" Leia asked. She thought, This could be the cause of the
rumors Luke is investigating. What is my brother facing? A youth  as  talented
as Anakin, trained by my father, Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith...
     She shivered.
     Rillao smiled gently. "We produced a child.  An  ordinary,  sweet  child.
Tigris... I was so happy when I realized he had no talent for the Force."
     "Happy!" Leia exclaimed, simultaneously shocked and relieved.
     "Even before our child, I  became...  a  disappointing  student  to  Lord
Vader."
     "But you're extraordinarily talented,"  Leia  said.  "How  could  you  be
disappointing?"
     "Can't you guess, my friend?" She smiled, fiercely this time, showing the
sharp tips of her unusually prominent canine teeth.
     Leia waited.
     "I was not tempted to the dark side," Rillao said. "It repelled me. I had
no desire for power over other people. I could  not  understand  Lord  Vader's
compulsion to gain it, any more than he could understand my desire  to  escape
it."
     "At the end of his life," Leia said, "he would have understood."
     "Then perhaps he found peace. I am glad. But when  I  knew  him,  he  was
driven. He had no patience for my weaknesses. Lelila,  I  am  possessed  of  a
gift. I can heal, and strengthen, and soothe."
     "As you healed and soothed my children," Leia said.
     Rillao nodded. "Lord Vader forbade me to exercise my healing talents.  In
turn, I resisted his instruction. Both  Lord  Vader  and  my  lover  found  me
undependable."
     Her quiet breathing deepened, and she closed her eyes.
     "I could not bear it," she said. "Lord Vader treated me  with  scorn.  My
lover... ceased to love me. His feelings for me did not vanish. I  could  have
borne that. I could have borne hatred in place of love. But contempt..."
     She paused for so long Leia was afraid she  would  not--cd  not--complete
her story. Leia placed her hand gently over Rillao's.
     "What happened?"
     "Lord Vader appointed my lover--y understand that he  is  the  one  whose
name I spoke to you, you understand that he is  Hethrir?  -  -  Procurator  of
Justice. He charged him with the destruction of our world, and  the  abduction
of a freighter full of our people."
     "Your own world! His own people! How--" But she knew how. It was not even
rare.
     "He did it to prove his loyalty, his loyalty above all to the Empire.  He
thought, if he proved himself, the Empire would declare him human after  all."
She laughed bitterly. "I wondered, after our world died, why anyone would want
to be considered human."
     Leia nodded. After the destruction of Alderaan, she had wondered the same
thing.
     "Before our child was born, I fled. After the child came, I hid us on the
smallest, meekest, most backward worlds. Lord Vader had  great  hopes  for  my
son, and I feared what he might do when he discovered my son could not fulfill
his ambitions."
     "Neither could his own,"  Leia  whispered.  "No,  never  mind,  it's  too
complicated to explain, I didn't mean to interrupt you."
     "When the Empire fell," Rillao said, "I thought perhaps we were  safe.  I
did not know what had happened to my lover. I grieved  that  he  was  dead.  I
grieved for my world, ruined by the arrogance of the Empire. I grieved for  my
people, sent I knew not where into space to a far destination. My child and  I
lived happily. As happily as we could, alone.  I  could  not  even  answer  my
child's questions about his father. I practiced my craft, but in secret.
     "And then," Rillao said softly,  "I  discovered  that  I  need  not  have
grieved for my lover's death. The one I had loved discovered us. He  had  been
seeking us constantly. He has vast resources.  He  foresaw  the  fall  of  the
Empire, and he prepared for it. We struggled." She looked away,  ashamed.  "He
overcame me."
     "You'd practiced healing. He practiced for war."
     "He overcame me," Rillao said, turning aside Leia's excuses for her.  "He
imprisoned me. He took our child. He has had our child for five years."
     And, Leia realized,  Hethrir  had  imprisoned  Rillao  in  the  passenger
freighter, under torture, for five years.
     "What did he want of you?" Leia asked  softly,  meaning,  He  could  have
killed you cleanly, but he chose to torment you, for all that time.
     "He wanted to win me back, of course," Rillao said. "Or break me  to  his
will. It made no difference to him, I think, as long as I surrendered  to  his
bidding. He wanted a partner, or a pawn, to strengthen his rule of the  Empire
Reborn." She stretched out her hands, spread  her  long  fingers,  turned  her
hands over to reveal the scarred palms, and clenched her fists. "And he wanted
our child to be his heir. To the Empire Reborn and to his dark power."
     She smiled again, but her eyes were full of tears.
     "My sweet son... I fear what Hethrir has done to him, in five  years.  He
cannot fulfill his father's ambitions for him. He cannot  gain,  for  Hethrir,
full access to the dark side. He could be a fine scientist, or an  artist,  or
an explorer-diplomat. He cannot be a Jedi."
     "And you haven't  even  seen  him  in  five  years!"  Leia  exclaimed  in
sympathy. She tried to imagine missing Jaina and Jacen for five years. She did
not think she would survive.
     "I have seen him," Rillao said. "He came to the chamber with his lord. He
called me traitor, and weakling, and fool."
     She scrubbed the back of her hand across her eyes, dashing the tears away
angrily.
     "I must find him, Lelila," she said. "Perhaps he's already lost to  me...
lost to himself. But perhaps Hethrir has not yet extinguished  his  sweetness.
What your children said of him gave me hope."
     "My name isn't Lelila," Leia said.
     "You need not tell me--"
     "It's Leia. And when we rescue Ti--when we rescue  your  son,  and  mine,
we'll go home to Coruscant. You'll have a safe haven. You'll have  colleagues.
Luke--my brother, Luke Skywalker--w be so excited to meet you!"
     To her astonishment, Rillao dropped to one knee before  her,  awkward  in
the cramped pilot's cabin.
     "Princess Leia of Alderaan," she said. "Freedom fighter, destroyer of the
Empire, and founder of the New Republic. I pledge you  my  loyalty.  I  should
have recognized you--"
     Suddenly shy, Leia began twisting and plaiting her hair into a messy heap
on top of her head.
     "I was traveling incognito," she said.

     Chapter
     11

     Leia hugged Chewbacca when he boarded Alderaan and came to her  cabin  to
assure himself that Jaina and Jacen were safe.
     Under Grake's watchful eye,  the  other  stolen  children  slept  on  the
worldcraft, which was programmed to travel to Munto Codru. There, the children
would be safe, and the work of finding their homes and families could begin.
     "Will you stay in my cabin with Jaina and Jacen?" Leia  asked  Chewbacca.
"I don't want to leave them alone."
     Chewbacca snorted a question.
     "Yes," Leia said. "You are an excellent navigator. But Rillao  knows  the
route to Asylum Station."
     Chewbacca growled his opinion of a navigator who had  not  flown  for  at
least five years, but the growl was just for  show.  He  laid  one  huge  hand
gently on Leia's head, and sat on the end of the bunk  where  the  twins  were
sleeping.
     Leia hurried to her pilot's seat. She lifted Alderaan off the worldcraft.
The worldcraft vanished into the brightness  of  hyperspace,  on  its  way  to
refuge. Leia gave the controls over to Rillao.
     They were on their way to Asylum Station, and Anakin.

     Han strolled happily along the quiet path. What a great evening.  No  one
bothering him, the razor edge  of  his  concentration  sharpened  rather  than
dulled by the excellent ale, nothing to worry about, nothing to  think  about,
playing cards on instinct and nerve. Winning.
     He felt terrific.
     And he knew what to do about Waru.
     The lobby of the lodge was deserted. He was rather disappointed.  If  the
host had shown up and harassed him for the rent, he  could  have  laughed  and
thrown hard cash money at the whirlwind's feet. No,  not  feet.  Whatever  the
whirlwind used instead of feet. He could have pitched  the  credits  into  the
host's twisty gullet.
     He slipped on the flagstone floor and nearly fell.
     What the--? he thought. I'm not that drunk.
     He glanced at the spot that had tripped him up. A cracked floor tile  was
littered with thick, ugly flower petals. He had stepped  on  one  and  it  had
squashed under his heel. The petals  looked  like  they  came  from  the  same
flowers Threepio had pilfered for the breakfast table.
     Probably the cleaning droid mistook them for garbage and took them  away,
Han said to himself. Then dropped them on the floor.
     Han climbed the stairs two at a time. He would give  the  rent  money  to
Threepio. Only fair to let the droid pay the host, since Threepio had been the
one to explain and excuse their being late with the payment.
     He felt cleanly and completely tired. He looked forward to sleeping late.
By afternoon, evening anyway, Luke would have cooled off.
     And I've cooled off, too, Han thought. If the kid doesn't  jump  down  my
throat again, everything will be fine.
     His code would not open the door to his room.
     "Hey!" He banged on the door. "Let me in!"
     After a moment, the door-screen lit up with  the  image  of  a  beautiful
woman, wrapped in a robe, her hair disheveled.
     "This is no time for trading," she said. "Come back at a civilized  hour.
We'll go to my ship and I'll display the new merchandise."
     "Trading? Merchandise? Huh? Who are you? What are you doing in my  room?"
He thought, If Luke sees her, I'll never be able to make him understand  about
me and Xaverri. I'll never get him to believe this is a misunderstanding.
     "This is my room, sir, and I am sleeping in it."
     Peering close, he rechecked the room number. No, he had made no mistake.
     "I've been here for days!" he said. "My stuff is in the closet!"
     "My things are in the closet. Go away. I have called the host." The door-
screen faded away and she would not reply to Han's knocking, or his shouts.
     A couple of large droids trundled toward him, one from each  end  of  the
corridor. They looked like Artoo-Detoo  on  growth  hormones.  With  a  pincer
maneuver, they herded him toward the stairs, bumping him roughly  despite  his
protests, then trundled on thick treads after him, one before him, one behind.
     In the lobby, the lodge's host waited for him.
     "What's going on?" Han said.  "Who's  that  in  my  room?  Where  are  my
colleagues? Where's our stuff?"
     "My establishment has been reserved by a conference," the host said. "You
and your colleagues have consistently been late with your rent, so I  required
them to find other shelter."
     Han threw a handful of credits at the host. The credits fluttered through
the whirlwind image and scattered over the pool's surface.
     "There."
     "Too late."
     The two overgrown droids nudged up against  Han's  back  and  pushed  him
toward the door, rolling over  the  crushed  flower  petals  and  releasing  a
powerful cloud of their fetid odor.
     "Wait! Hold on!" Han pushed at  the  droids.  He  had  no  effect.  Their
pressure increased and their progress continued unhampered.
     "Dammit, where did my friends go?"
     "I do not know," the whirlwind said. "Furthermore, I do not care."
     The droids bumped Han outside so roughly  that  he  nearly  fell  on  the
steps. The door slammed shut behind him. Catcalls  followed  him  through  the
darkness.
     In the warm damp night, Han swore.
     Where did they go? he wondered. They didn't have any money....
     As Han walked, the crystal star dawned. First dawn  and  second  dawn  no
longer occurred in opposition, second dawn blasting first sunset  out  of  the
sky. The crystal star had plummeted past Crseih Station, falling closer to the
black hole. It rose, creating first dawn. Nearly in conjunction,  the  blazing
whirlpool of the black hole exploded over the horizon.
     Between the interference of the burning  whirlpool  and  the  haphazardly
effective barriers of the radiation shields, Han's comlink was unreliable.  He
tried to reach Luke or Threepio, but received no answer.
     He tried to force himself to think clearly.
     Of course: they must have gone back to the Falcon. Too  much  trouble  to
come and find me, not that I exactly left ^w where I'd be. I'll have to go all
the way back to the landing field....
     He tramped back down the path.
     Suddenly the light around him dimmed a bit. Han glanced upward.
     The white dwarf plunged behind the accretion disk of the black hole.  For
a moment, communication cleared slightly. Han called the Falcon.
     No one answered except the Falcon's automatic systems. No one had entered
the ship since Threepio fetched the emergency rations.  Neither  Threepio  nor
Luke had left him a message.
     As Han tried to call Luke directly, the white dwarf appeared from  behind
its companion. The interference increased again, blasting Han's connection  to
the Falcon.
     Could Luke have gone back to Waru? Han thought.  Maybe  he  doesn't  even
know we're thrown out of our room. Maybe Threepio went to find him....
     The daylight brightened again.
     Instead of soaring outward from the black hole, the  white  dwarf  sailed
around in front of it. Its eccentric elliptical orbit had changed phase, to an
orbit nearly circular. The black hole drew the crystalline white dwarf closer.
As the crystal star spun around the black hole, a  stream  of  glowing  plasma
ripped from its surface. The dying star whirled around the black hole,  plasma
surging from it as it spun. The two stars formed a double whirlpool of light.
     As the binary rose higher in the sky, the strange harsh light mottled the
dome and the ground. Han blinked, wishing for a clearer, warmer, more ordinary
light. He did not even want to know the strength of the X-ray flux.
     Threepio was right about the radiation, Han thought.
     Han reached the welcome dome, where the lights of  the  signs  and  shops
obliterated the burning of the black hole. The welcome  dome  was  as  active,
bright, and noisy now, at double-dawn, as it had been  at  star-dusk,  and  at
midnight.
     Han sighed. He was not interested in anything the  welcome  dome  had  to
offer. All he wanted was a few hours' sleep. Instead, he trudged  away  toward
Waru's  compound,  thinking,  Haven't  these  folks  ever  heard   of   public
transportation?

     Alderaan's molten skin shivered beneath the assault of X rays as it  dove
into the strange system.
     Asylum Station spun in space, a chaotic cluster  of  irregular,  cratered
asteroids, held together with communicating tunnels and gravity fields.
     Leia frowned. She had never been to Asylum Station,  yet  she  recognized
it. There could not be two such strange stations.
     "It's  Crseihffwas  she  exclaimed,  as  Artoo-Detoo  whistled  the  same
conclusion. "Crseih Stationffwas
     "Yes," Rillao said. "Its real name is Crseih. In the trade, it  is  known
as Asylum. Do you know it?"
     "My husband and my brother are here," she said. She felt  both  hope  and
joy. "If Anakin's here, Luke will know it!"
     She might land on Crseih Station and find her little boy waiting to  meet
her, safe and free. She imagined him running toward  her,  imagined  his  arms
wrapped around her neck, imagined hugging him to her.
     She imagined the empty spot in her heart, filling with his presence.
     She tried to reach Han, to contact the Millennium Falcon,  but  the  same
radiation flux that had prevented her calling him from Munto Codru now blasted
her communications out of the sky. Crseih Station was cut off from the rest of
the galaxy by the frenzy of the double star.
     "Be patient," Rillao said. "Soon we will find out. Soon we will know."
     "You sound like my brother!"
     Leia sighed in distress. For all she knew,  Han  and  Luke  had  finished
their investigation--theirthe vacation--and headed back  home  before  Hethrir
brought Anakin to Crseih.
     Near tears, Leia caught her breath. She pressed  her  hands  against  her
eyes and extended her perceptions as far as she could.
     She felt nothing.
     She let her hands fall.
     Rillao, beside her, patted her shoulder gently.
     "We're still a distance from  Crseih,"  she  said.  "Let's  not  distress
ourselves quite yet."
     Leia saw that Rillao had searched for Tigris, as Leia  had  searched  for
Anakin, and failed to find him.
     Leia shook herself and tried to take Rillao's advice.
     Before Leia, beyond Crseih, a binary system blazed. A  white  dwarf  star
plunged around a whirlpool of  glowing  debris.  The  black  hole  within  the
whirlpool ripped at the surface of the white dwarf,  drawing  star-stuff  into
explosive destruction.
     Leia gazed at its wild beauty.
     "This is the oddest system I've ever been in," Leia said,  searching  for
something to distract her attention. "The oddest, and the most violent."
     Artoo-Detoo beeped, and a geyser of information burst into the air  above
his carapace. He warbled with excitement.
     Leia deciphered Artoo's display of information.
     "He says they're odd indeed," Leia said.
     Artoo amplified a portion of the information and pushed it toward her.
     "Dying?" Leia  exclaimed.  "The  star  is  dying?"  Leia  looked  closer,
interpreting what Artoo showed her. "All white  dwarf  stars  are  dying.  The
star--it's freezing."
     "A freezing star?" Rillao said skeptically. "I think your droid is joking
with us."
     "Artoo has a lot of good qualities," Leia said, "but he doesn't have much
in the way of a sense of humor. What's happening is, the star's so dense  it's
nothing but a quantum plasma.  It's  very,  very  old,  so  old  it's  stopped
burning. It's giving up its heat to  the  universe.  Freezing  into  one  huge
quantum crystal."
     Leia heard a whimper from the far end of the companionway. She jumped  up
and ran from the cockpit to her cabin, to her children. Chewbacca  sat  beside
them, looming over them protectively.
     Jaina and Jacen awakened, Jaina with a cry, Jacen pale and silent.
     "It's all right, dear ones," Leia said. She and  Chewbacca  hugged  them.
She wished she had left them back on the worldcraft, safe and sound,  yet  she
was desperately grateful to have them with her.
     "Is Hethrir back?" Jaina whispered.
     "No," Leia said. "He's nowhere near. I'll never let him near you. Did you
have a dream? A nightmare?"
     Jaina nodded somberly from the safety of Chewbacca's arms.
     "My head hurts, Mama." Jacen held Leia tight.
     Leia rocked him, crooning. After a while,  they  fell  back  into  uneasy
sleep. Leia tucked them in; Chewbacca fastened a safety guard around them.
     Alderaan was about to land on Crseih Station.
     * * *
     Tigris entered the meeting hall of Crseih Station's travelers' lodge. The
long stone pews were filled. Shimmering white  velvet  backed  the  dais  upon
which Lord Hethrir would stand. Against the brilliant  white,  Hethrir's  gold
and red hair would blaze like flame, and his dark eyes would burn.
     Tigris recognized most of the people who waited for  Lord  Hethrir.  Lady
Ucce sat in the place of honor reserved for the most  generous  donor  to  the
Empire Reborn. Lord Qaqquqqu sat among Lord Hethrir's lesser supporters.  Many
of the guests had visited the worldcraft, either as members of the trade or as
supplicants for Hethrir's favor. Others had  been  promoted  from  Proctor  to
Empire Youth and sent out to work in secret on behalf of  the  Empire  Reborn.
Their reunion was unique in Tigris's experience. The Youths set themselves off
with their pale uniforms, their medals, their elegant long coats.
     Every free person at the meeting was devoted to the memory of the Empire,
and to Lord Hethrir's plan for the Empire Reborn.
     They had never before gathered like this. Something new and  strange  was
happening. Tigris was proud to be involved, no matter how small his part.
     A child of a nonhuman species accompanied each guest. All the guests,  of
course, were human. It was the place of humans to restore the  Empire  and  to
regain their power.
     Tigris saw the centaur child who had joined Anakin's  sister  in  defying
the rules of Lord Hethrir's school. In fact, many of the slave children in the
room were from the group that Lord Hethrir had just culled and sold. It seemed
odd to Tigris that the guests would want to be attended by slaves so young and
untrained that they had to be leashed. Some still cried for their mothers. But
it was not Tigris's place to criticize Lord Hethrir's guests.
     Keeping his silence, holding Anakin's hand, Tigris looked for a place  to
sit. The meeting room was very full.
     The Proctors gathered just outside.
     "Rise!"
     Tigris hurried into the last pew, pulling Anakin with  him.  All  around,
the guests rose and bowed their heads. Tigris stared at the floor, waiting for
Hethrir's permission to look up again.
     Lord Hethrir's retinue of young Proctors marched through the doorway  and
up the aisle and fanned out on either side of the podium.
     Lord Hethrir swept in.
     "Were you planning to keep my lightsaber?"
     Tigris straightened up, startled by Hethrir's low  and  dangerous  voice.
The Lord frowned down at him.
     Tigris paled. The pommel of the lightsaber lay heavy in the pocket of his
ragged robe. He fumbled for the saber and gave it to his lord. He should  have
followed Hethrir to his room and returned the saber  immediately.  Instead  he
had calmed Anakin. He should have left Anakin to cry himself to  silence.  The
child must, after all, learn to control himself.
     Hethrir strode down the central aisle and took his place on the podium.
     "You may be seated," Hethrir said.
     But one of the guests remained standing.
     Tigris recognized him. His name was Brashaa. He  was  an  undistinguished
member of Lord Hethrir's following. How dare he defy Hethrir's command?
     Hethrir looked down at Brashaa, with every evidence  of  welcome.  Tigris
thought he  detected  a  hint  of  amusement  in  Lord  Hethrir's  expression.
Amusement, and contempt. Brashaa was  a  notorious  miser.  He  was  not  even
attended by a slave. Instead, he dragged Anakin's pet after  him  on  a  heavy
chain. Lord Hethrir had given Lady Ucce the ugly black six-legged creature for
free. It panted and whined. Slaver dripped from its heavy, pitted fangs.  Lady
Ucce must have made a great profit by selling it to Brashaa.
     "What is it, Brashaa?" Lord Hethrir said.
     "My lord. For many years now you have promised action. We grow  weary  of
concealing ourselves from usurpers of the New Republic."
     Anakin saw the fanged creature. He jumped off the pew and would have  run
toward the monster if Tigris had not held him back.
     "Sit still, little one," Tigris whispered.
     "Anakin want woof!" Anakin said.
     "Shh."
     Lord Hethrir said nothing in response to Brashaa. He waited,  silent  and
dangerous, until Brashaa gathered the courage to continue.
     "My lord, we tire--desperately--of treating nonhumans as equal beings. We
must act soon, before our  children  are  too  much  affected  by  egalitarian
propaganda, before our generation is too old to act--fffight!"
     "I think you do not trust me, Brashaa," Hethrir said.
     "I trust you with my life andwith my wealth, my lord. I only mean--"
     "I suspect you doubt me, Brashaa."
     "Not at all, my lord. Not for a moment."
     "I wonder if you are a traitor, Brashaa."
     "My lord!" Brashaa protested. He grew pale with dread and regret.  Tigris
felt sorry for him, and horrified that the man had questioned Lord Hethrir.
     "Leave us, Brashaa. You have no part in this meeting. I cannot trust  you
to hear my plan."
     Brashaa stared at him, speechless even to defend himself.  He  hesitated,
as if he hoped Lord Hethrir would repeal the sentence he had pronounced.
     Lord Hethrir stared at  him.  Brashaa's  face  reddened.  He  gasped  for
breath. All around him, people withdrew, afraid that to stand too close  would
mean contamination.
     A trickle of blood leaked from Brashaa's nostril.
     Anakin clambered up on the seat of the  pew  and  stared,  wide-eyed  and
silent. Brashaa dropped the chain of the  fanged  creature,  who  watched  its
owner as intently as Anakin.
     "I beg your forgiveness, my lord!"
     Lord Hethrir simply gazed at him.
     The traitor staggered toward the center aisle. Lord  Hethrir's  followers
made way for him. No one reached out a hand to help him.
     "Your forgiveness, my lord!"
     Lord Hethrir would never let him live, after  such  a  challenge.  Tigris
looked away, ashamed of his own weakness but unwilling to  watch  another  man
die.
     And yet Brashaa did not fall. His footsteps sounded toward  the  back  of
the meeting hall.
     "Your forgiveness, my lord!"
     Tigris turned just in time to see Brashaa flee out the doorway.
     The fanged creature looked around. Its ears perked up. Its chain rattled.
No one moved to restrain it.
     Tigris turned toward Lord Hethrir. He was shocked by his lord's  strained
face. Hethrir's complexion was even paler than usual, gray in contrast to  the
brilliant white of his robes and the soft white velvet.
     He did mean Brashaa to die! Tigris thought. But something--something went
wrong. The way Lord Hethrir's lightsaber went wrong...
     Anakin plopped himself down on the seat beside Tigris.
     "Bad mans, Tigris," he said solemnly.
     "Shh, little one."  Tigris  hoped  Lord  Hethrir  did  not  hear.  Anakin
clutched Tigris's hand in his grubby little fist. Tigris did  not  draw  away.
Confused and unhappy, trying to put aside his disloyal ideas, he thought: Lord
Hethrir erred.
     The fanged creature skulked down the aisle. Everyone ignored it.  Instead
of running away, or following its master from the hall, it settled  itself  at
Anakin's feet.
     "Shoo!" Tigris whispered.
     "Hello, woof," Anakin said. The monster  leaned  its  ugly  head  against
Anakin's knee. Anakin scratched the black fur behind the creature's ears.
     Hethrir's guests had returned their fascinated attention to  their  lord.
Hethrir recovered himself. He smiled benevolently, as if he  had  let  Brashaa
live on purpose.
     "Does any one of you have a question," he asked kindly,  "before  I  tell
you of my plan?"
     No one spoke.
     At Anakin's feet, the wolf-creature whined.

     Hot and  sweaty  in  the  oppressive  heat,  Han  trudged  toward  Waru's
calligraphed building. He was so tired that the calligraphy  leaped  and  spun
and rewrote itself in his vision. He was traveling against the traffic; Waru's
supplicants danced along the path.
     The service must be over, Han thought. Fine. Maybe  I'll  meet  Luke  and
Threepio coming out. Maybe they'll meet me halfway. Maybe  Xaverri  is  around
here somewhere, too, and we can clear everything up all at once.
     The idea of entering Waru's presence again gave him  the  creeps.  If  he
never had to see the damned thing again, he would be perfectly happy.
     One of the supplicants stopped Han. "Waru has dismissed us, seeker,"  the
scaled and feathered being said to  him.  The  feathers  ruffled;  the  scales
turned tan, then pure bright yellow.  "You  will  have  to  come  to  a  later
service."
     "It's okay," Han said. "I'm meeting someone."
     The feathered  being  patted  his  shoulder  in  a  friendly  manner  and
continued down the walkway.
     Han passed the end  of  the  line  of  departing  supplicants.  Luke  and
Threepio were nowhere in sight.
     Han crossed the silent courtyard, whistling defiantly, and entered Waru's
building. His shadows disappeared. He paused in the cool foyer and listened. A
single voice spoke, the ^ws and timbre jumbled by complicated acoustics. After
a silence, a second voice replied. Han recognized the second voice: Waru.
     He stepped into the theater.
     At the foot of the stage, Luke stood with his shoulders  slumped,  facing
Waru.
     "I am tired, Luke Skywalker," Waru said.
     Oh, fine, Han thought. He's told that guy who he is!
     "You think of me as a tireless benefactor, a limitless healer. But I am a
living being, and I tire like all other living beings. My other followers have
acquiesced to my request that they depart.  Can  you  not  show  me  the  same
courtesy?"
     "I'm afraid if you don't help me, I'll die."
     What the--? Han thought.
     Waru gave the impression of a deep sigh. "Very well. I will help you."
     Luke stepped up on the altar.
     "Luke!" Han yelled. As Luke stretched his arms to Waru, placing his palms
on the limpid gold scales, Han sprinted toward him,  his  boots  pounding  the
floor. He reached the altar and leaped up beside  Luke.  He  grabbed  him  and
pulled him away. Luke struggled, blindly  reaching  for  his  lightsaber.  Han
wrestled with him and pulled Luke's arms behind his back. Once  Luke  got  his
hands on the lightsaber, Han knew he could not win.
     "Stop it!" he said. "You're not going to use the lightsaber on me and you
know it!"
     Then he got a look at Luke's face, pale and drawn and intense with  pain,
his eyes staring, and he was not so sure.
     "Leave him," Waru said. "He has asked my aid, and I have offered it."
     "No, it's too much to ask,"  Han  said.  "We'll  come  back  when  you're
rested."
     Wait a minute! Han  thought.  I'm  trying  to  be  diplomatic--while  I'm
dragging Luke out of here?
     "He has the right to determine his own fate," Waru said.  The  low  voice
flowed like silk. "To choose to try to save his life."
     "There's nothing wrong with him, dammit!"
     Han jumped off the edge of the  altar,  pulling  Luke  with  him,  barely
managing to keep his balance. Luke  stumbled  against  him,  going  limp.  Han
expected a trick. He expected Luke to w the lightsaber into his hand. Instead,
he found himself half dragging and half carrying Luke away from Waru's altar.
     "He is very ill, very weak," Waru said. "Bring him back to me. If he  can
be healed, I will heal him."
     Without replying, Han pulled Luke to his feet.
     "Give me some help here, brother," he muttered.
     Beside him, Luke staggered upright.
     "Please, Han," he whispered. "Help me..."
     "Bring him to me!" Waru's ^ws shook the chamber.
     Han slung Luke's arm over his shoulder and kept going toward the exit.
     "No," Luke whispered. "No... please..."
     Han went cold. Luke was begging not for escape, but to  return  to  Waru.
Han refused to let him go.
     "I've saved your life before, kid," Han muttered. "You owe it  to  me  at
least once."
     He dragged Luke out of the theater and through the  silent  entryway  and
into the open field. The disintegrating stars dazzled him.  His  eyes  watered
and his vision blurred. The black hole blazed and the crystal  star  pulsated,
high in the sky. Their brightness increased, battering the strained  radiation
shields. Han shivered.
     But Han had a lot more things to be uneasy about right now than the stars
in his sky.
     He wrestled Luke around and headed toward Xaverri's secret path.
     Tigris listened, rapt, to Lord Hethrir's speech. He had been speaking for
hours. Like the others, Tigris was fascinated, hypnotized, by the Lord's voice
and his powerful message.
     Only Anakin was immune to the power of Lord Hethrir's voice.  The  little
boy had clambered to the floor  and  curled  up  with  the  six-legged  fanged
creature. They slept soundly on Tigris's feet.
     "Today, I will consolidate my power," Lord Hethrir said.
     "Today, I will be refined like precious  metal  from  the  rough  ore  of
earthly existence.
     "Today, I will be reborn--like the Empire,  whose  reincarnation  I  have
conceived and incubated.
     "Today I will bring forth--the Empire Reborn."
     His followers gazed at him, stunned by his audacity. Then, all  together,
they leaped to their feet and cheered.
     Tigris, too, started to rise. But if Tigris got up, he would wake Anakin.
Anakin might begin to cry, and disturb the Lord's triumph.
     Besides, Tigris's feet had gone to sleep.
     Some of the slave children were whimpering and crying. But their behavior
was not Tigris's responsibility. Anakin's was.
     Tigris stayed where he was, hoping he was far enough  in  the  back,  far
enough in shadows, so his failure to stand up and acclaim the plan would never
be noticed.  A  whole  roomful  of  people  was  standing,  shouting,  waving,
applauding, between Tigris and Hethrir. Perhaps, for once, the Lord would  not
know everything Tigris did.
     Anakin looks so peaceful, Tigris thought. I wonder how he can  sleep,  in
all this noise?
     He smiled fondly at the little boy, curled up  on  the  floor  among  the
fanged creature's six legs.
     I wish he was always so peaceful! Tigris thought. I wonder what it  would
be like to have a little brother like Anakin? I wonder what it would  be  like
to have a brother or a sister or a family at all? Why was my mother a traitor?
Who was my father, and why did he abandon me?
     Anakin opened his eyes. He blinked, sleepily, saw Tigris smiling at  him,
and took his thumb out of his mouth to smile back. He clambered up on the seat
beside Tigris. He reached into his pocket with his sticky hand and pulled  out
a sweetmeat with one bite taken out of it. He offered it to Tigris.
     Tigris laughed softly. "Thanks," he said. He broke off the least battered
end and ate it. It tasted as good as the slice of  fruit  Anakin  had  offered
him, back on the starship. "Where did you get this?" he asked. It looked  like
one of the sweetmeats the vendor had offered them in the welcome  dome,  which
they could not buy because they had no money. Anakin just grinned and ate  the
rest of the sweet.
     Tigris wiggled his toes so his feet would wake up. His skin prickled. The
fanged creature snorted, woke, and stretched.
     The meeting hall suddenly fell silent. The people  sat  down.  The  slave
children huddled at their feet. Hethrir stood above them, his  arms  extended.
The wide sleeves of his white robe spread like wings, the edges  shining  with
silver light. Tigris hurriedly swallowed the last crumbs of Anakin's gift  and
wiped his mouth on his sleeve and urged Anakin to sit  up  straight.  Instead,
Anakin burrowed against his side.
     "Anakin, go to sleep," he said.
     "Come with me," Lord Hethrir said.  He  descended  from  the  podium  and
strode down the aisle, looking neither right nor  left,  paying  no  attention
whatever to whether anyone was following him.
     For, of course, they did follow him. Two of his Proctors ran  before  him
to open the door, while his guests spilled  into  the  aisle  behind  him  and
followed him out of the lodge and trooped  down  the  path.  They  pulled  the
sleepy slave children along with them.
     "Don't sleep yet, little brother," Tigris whispered. "Come on, we have to
go." He gathered the child into his arms and stood up. Now that the excitement
of Lord Hethrir's speech was fading, Tigris felt as tired as Anakin.
     "Hey, nursemaid!" One of the Proctors pointed at Tigris, jeering. "You'll
get left behind!"
     The Proctors followed the crowd, laughing, letting  the  door  slam  shut
behind them. Tigris had to balance Anakin on his hip and wrestle the door open
wide enough to slip through. The wolf-creature trotted after him, dragging its
chain.
     Clenching his teeth, Tigris held his head high.

     Leia, Rillao, Chewbacca, Jaina,  Jacen,  and  Artoo-Detoo  rode  Crseih's
landing field tractor to the station.
     What a raiding party we make! Leia thought. A raiding party disguised  as
a family outing.
     She looked for the Millennium Falcon, but could not see  it  beneath  the
multitude of irregularly shaped radiation shields.
     I could ask after it, she thought, but I don't want to give myself away.
     "Does the landing field have a registry of ships?" she asked the driver.
     "Such a list will be stored."
     "How can I look at it?"
     "You will not."
     "Why not?"
     "The company will protect its information."
     Jaina snuggled against Leia, clutching her multitool in one  hand  and  a
smart camping blanket from Alderaan in the other. She said the camping blanket
was for Anakin when they rescued him. But Anakin did not  have  the  habit  of
sleeping with a camping blanket or carrying one around. Jaina  had,  when  she
was younger, but her blanket was back home on Coruscant. When Winter asked  if
she wanted to bring it on the tour, Jaina had said she  was  not  a  baby  any
longer and did not need a blanket except for camping, and  besides,  maybe  it
was lonely for the other camping blankets.
     Leia had no intention of teasing her daughter about carrying  the  cuddly
blanket.
     Leia's comfort was the touch of her children, and the hope that all three
would be safe in a short time.
     Jacen petted the little four-winged bat, which peeked  out  from  beneath
his shirt. The bat made Leia nervous, mildly venomous as it  was.  If  it  bit
Jacen, he would have a terrible itch. But if it had been going to bite him, it
probably would have done so long since. Leia had  learned  to  regard  Jacen's
explorations with a certain Jedi-like calm that drew very little  from  Luke's
lessons in meditation. She was working on the same reaction to  Jaina's  habit
of dismantling household machines.
     Leia was  traveling  incognito,  as  Lelila,  though  this  time  without
abandoning her real identity in the personality  of  the  bounty  hunter.  She
doubted her position as Chief of State of the New Republic would  provide  her
much esteem on Crseih. Her hair swirled wild and long and free.
     Rillao carried herself so proudly, she looked so  regal  in  the  emerald
tunic, that it was possible to overlook how rumpled the tunic, and  how  tired
and drawn Rillao was. The tunic covered most of her scars.
     Chewbacca still limped; a bandage wrapped his leg. But he had bathed, and
combed his brindled fur. The new silver and black streaks curved  into  smooth
patterns. He was the most presentable of the biological members of the party.
     Jaina and Jacen were clean and well dressed. They no longer  wolfed  down
every meal and snack. But an aura of intensity  and  distress  possessed  them
both.
     Among them all,  only  Artoo-Detoo  looked  and  acted  exactly  as  Leia
expected him to.
     Jaina pulled at Leia's sleeve.
     "Mama!" she whispered, excited. "That's one of the  ships!"  She  pointed
across the landing field toward a shiny gold spacecraft beneath a  custom-made
radiation shield.
     "Which ships, sweetheart?"
     "The ships that came to the worldcraft--right before  Hethrir  took  Lusa
away!"
     Leia and Rillao looked at each other. Leia saw hope in Rillao's eyes, and
felt hope in her own heart.
     "We have to go rescue Lusa, Mamaffwas
     Could it be this easy? Leia wondered. But... if Anakin is in  that  ship,
why can't I tell?
     "Driver," she said, "we would like to  visit  that  ship."  She  gestured
toward the gold spacecraft.
     "You will pay more," the arthropoid driver said.
     Chewbacca growled. Leia patted his arm gently.
     "That's acceptable," she said to the driver.
     No one in the ship replied to the driver's signal.  The  crawler  pressed
its entry tunnel up against the ship's gold surface. From a distance, the gold
ship appeared featureless. Close up, Leia could see  its  many  gilded  ports,
peering mysteriously at her.
     "Be careful, Mamaffwas Jacen said.  "Mean  people  took  Lusaffwas  Jaina
whispered.
     Leia knocked on the outer shell of the spaceship. Her heart sounded  just
as loud, beating with anticipation and fear.
     Nothing happened. Leia waited, then knocked, louder, on one of the ports.
She cupped her hands around her face and tried to peer inside, but the gilding
was so strong that she might be imagining the shadows inside.  She  knocked  a
third time.
     The seamless gold surface parted irregularly, softly.
     "Patience, gentle, patience! What do you want?"
     "I'm--"
     It would be so easy, Leia thought, if I knew Anakin and the other  stolen
children were in there. But if they were--I'd know it. Wouldn't  I?  It  would
have been so much easier in the old days, when we knew...
     "We are looking for a child," Rillao said.
     "That's right," Leia said, following Rillao's direct approach,  the  same
approach she had used to the Indexer.
     "Human?" the voice said. "You are... human?" A hairy protuberance with  a
starburst of fleshy tendrils pressed through the opening and wriggled, sensing
her. "Or do you prefer transspecies?"
     "We're looking for Lusaffwas Jaina said. "She has  four  feet,  not  two!
She's red-gold, with white spots, and she has horns. Hornsffwas
     The furry starburst inclined downward and inspected Jaina.
     Jacen pulled at Leia's sleeve. "Mama," he whispered, "Anakin isn't in the
gold ship."
     "He--he isn't? But Jaina said..."
     Jacen shook his head gravely. Leia thought back over what Jaina had said,
and Jacen was right. Jaina had never said her  friend  Lusa  and  Anakin  were
together. The Proctor she had questioned had let her think Anakin might be  on
Crseih Station. But he had not said it was certain.
     If I cannot find my  little  one,  she  thought,  I'll  go  back  to  the
worldcraft and--
     "I  mean,"  Jacen  said,  "I  don't  think  he's  there."   He   frowned.
"Everything's so weird." He looked up at her, trusting and hopeful. "Can't you
tell where he is?"
     "Is Lusa here?" Jaina asked the wriggling starburst.
     "I cannot say, young gentle. You must speak to my mistress, Lady Ucce."
     Leia stroked Jacen's hair. The force of her disappointment shook  her  to
her core.
     "Where is Lady Ucce?" Leia asked.
     "You may inquire after her at Crater Lodge."
     The gold skin of the spaceship healed over smoothly. Leia knocked  again,
then slapped her hand angrily against the ship's skin.
     But no one answered her.

     Chapter
     12

     Leia's raiders entered the lobby of Crater Lodge like a party of vacation
tourists. They stood alone among the spools and streams and black  flagstones.
A repair droid buzzed and whined over a long ragged scrape that marred one  of
the tiles. The droid ignored them.
     Jaina and Jacen stared around, curious. The four-winged bat clambered out
of Jacen's shirt and flitted off into the dimness.
     "Hello!" Rillao called.
     "You are rather late." A waterspout  appeared  above  one  of  the  still
pools, rippling its surface. "You will have to hurry."
     "Are you speaking to me?" Rillao asked.
     "Yes--are you not a member of the Lord's retreat?"
     Rillao barely hesitated. "I am," she said.
     "May I register your name?"
     "If you know the Lord," Rillao said, "you should know better than to  ask
my name."
     Leia did not need Jedi abilities  to  feel  the  tension  emanating  from
Rillao. Her abilities had taken leave of  her,  as  far  as  she  could  tell,
leaving behind them nothing but a dull headache. She wondered  if  Rillao  was
having the same disorienting experience.
     "Your pardon," the waterspout said.
     "Granted. The Lord has arrived?"
     "Arrived, and departed with his followers. But if you hurry you may catch
them."
     "I shall need a guide."
     "You will not."
     Rillao  gave  the  waterspout  a  quizzical  look.  The  waterspout  spun
peacefully.
     "You need only ask. For Waru."
     "Very well."
     "I will see that your servants are taken care of."
     "They travel with me," Rillao said.
     "Ah." The waterspout shivered, then steadied.
     The Codru-bat swooped over the water, dove, splashed, and flapped  upward
again, a tiny fish caught in its claws. It  hovered,  snacking  on  the  tasty
morsel.
     "This is not the dining room!" The waterspout's tone sharpened with anger
and disbelief. "Those creatures are valuable--they  are  expensive!  They  are
part of the decor!"
     Chewbacca snorted.
     "I'm sorry!" Jacen said. He held up his hand and the bat nestled into his
palm. "He was hungry."
     "Put the fish on our account," Rillao said. "Let's go."
     Outside, Rillao asked the first person  she  encountered  where  to  find
Waru.
     "This path. That airlink. You will see." The being blinked  a  circle  of
wide eyes. "But revered Waru is resting. He has asked for peace and time."
     "I see," Rillao said. "Don't worry. We'll just look."
     She strode down the path. Leia and Chewbacca and the children followed.
     They had left the park dome before Leia noticed that Artoo-Detoo was  not
accompanying them through the airlink.
     Where did he go? she wondered.
     She could not turn back to look for him now.
     * * *
     The ground rose beneath Han's feet. He toiled up the hill. He was getting
no help at all from Luke. But even exhausted and overburdened as  he  was,  he
was less out of breath than he would have been if he had tried this hike  when
he first arrived on Crseih Station.
     "Let me go, Han," Luke said. "Please. Let me go. I have to see Waruffwas
     Han dragged him behind a boulder, off the path, and dropped  him  on  the
ground. Luke huddled in the dust, his head down, digging his fingers into  the
dirt.
     "What the hell do you mean," Han said roughly, "asking that--t  thing  to
heal you? After what I saw it do? And you aren't even sick!"
     "I am! Something's happening to me, Han, something  terrible.  Can't  you
see--?"
     "I see you're behaving like a jerk," Han said. "Why'd you tell  Waru  who
you are?"
     "Han... I'm losing my abilities. My connection  to  the  Force.  I  can't
maintain my disguise. People started recognizing  me.  When  we  talked  about
Xaverri--I couldn't know if you were telling me the truth!  I  feel  like  I'm
deaf and blind, like my heart's been ripped out of my body." He ran his  hands
through his hair, pushing it into complete disarray. "I don't know what to do!
"
     "Don't give yourself to Waru!" Han said.  "You  don't  even  know  what's
wrong. Maybe somebody put lizards in your bed--"
     "There aren't any ysalamiri here," Luke said.
     his--or maybe your lightsaber has blown a fuse--"
     "It doesn't have any fuses--"
     his--or maybe it's something in the water! Or the air. Or the light!" Han
wiped his sleeve across his forehead. The material  of  his  shirt  came  away
soaked with sweat.
     He sat down in the narrow shadow of a massive boulder.
     Luke started  to  object  again,  then  subsided.  He  sat  cross-legged,
thoughtfully, resting his elbows on his knees. He ducked his head  and  combed
his fingers through his hair and pulled his hood up to shade his face.
     "We've had plenty of vacation," Han said. "Luke, this isn't the old days.
We don't have to solve every problem and win every fight on our own. If you're
sick, we'll go back to Coruscant and get you well again."
     And figure out what to do about Waru from a safe distance,  Han  thought.
This isn't like the old days at all. In the old days, I always  knew  who  the
enemy was, and I only had one response. Now... everything's more complicated.
     "I want to get out of here," Han said. "This place gives me the creeps."
     "But the Jedi--" Luke said. "Waru--"
     "There aren't any lost Jedi here," Han said gently. "It was all Xaverri's
reports, and her reports are all about Waru. Not Jedi. Waru."
     Luke hesitated. "Yeah." His voice sounded sad, and confused.
     "Let's go collect Threepio and Xaverri and blast off out of here."
     "Xaverri?" An edge of anger replaced the confusion in Luke's voice.
     "Yeah--y don't expect me to leave her here, if I can get her to leave. Do
you?"
     "What do you need her for?"
     "What's got into you?" Incensed, Han grabbed Luke's robe and  pulled  him
to his feet.
     Glaring furiously, Luke pulled away and flung up his hand, palm  outward.
Han felt the touch of the  Force  in  the  center  of  his  chest.  He  jumped
backward, thinking, I can't move fast enough--I'm dead!
     The touch vanished and Luke crumpled to the ground. Han  hurried  to  his
side and knelt beside him.
     "I'm sorry," Luke said. "I'm sorry, I don't know--"
     "I loved Xaverri," Han said. "I loved her. I won't deny it. I  can't.  If
she hadn't left me--I don't know. It doesn't matter, Luke. Can't you see that?
I promise you, brother--what Xaverri and I were to each other  years  ago  has
nothing to do with what Leia and I are to each other now."
     Luke broke his own gaze, looking away,  looking  down.  "I'm  sorry,"  he
said. "I had no cause to say what I said to you. To refuse to listen  to  you.
It's just that yesterday--"
     "I saw a child die!" Han shouted. "And it was like I  could  see  my  own
kids in that thing's power!"
     "You needed somebody to talk to," Luke said. "I understand  that.  But  I
could have--"
     "You can't understand how  I  felt."  Han  doubted  he  could  make  Luke
understand what he was trying to tell him. "I'm sorry, Luke, but you couldn't.
Xaverri could. Her children--the Empire murdered them." Han jumped to his feet
and strode away a few steps, fighting to control himself. "We've  got  to  get
out of here."
     Luke remained silent.
     Han returned to him and helped him to his feet. His friend did not resist
him.
     "Where's Threepio?" Han asked.
     Luke shrugged. He was shaking. Han looked at him with concern,  thinking,
He really is sick. I've got to get him away from here.
     "It beats the hell out of me where he could have  gone,"  Han  said.  "He
isn't at the lodge." He glanced toward the secret path, not looking forward to
the trek through the mutant forest.
     Xaverri ducked out of the concealed entrance. She walked toward him.
     "Xaverri!"
     She raised one hand to acknowledge his greeting. Her expression  remained
neutral. He had almost forgotten the way their last conversation ended.
     Helping Luke along, Han went to meet her. When  he  stepped  out  of  the
shade, the light hit him like a wave of hot  water.  He  stopped  before  her,
hoping she would take his hand. She simply gazed at him, in silence.
     "We're leaving," he said. "You're right about  Waru.  About  the  danger.
We're taking the information back with us. To decide what to do."
     "I am glad to hear it," she said in a neutral tone.
     I'll  find  the  Ithorian  family,  Han  thought.  They're  New  Republic
citizens--I'll try to persuade them to press charges in a New Republic  court.
Then I can have Waru arrested, and tried--even if the  Ithorian  family  won't
agree, there must be some victim of this monster who's come out of its spell..
.
     "Come with us."
     Her lips twitched in a quick smile.
     "Xaverri, in the center of government? The center of law? I  could  never
fit there, Solo. I could never survive."
     Han grinned. "You might be surprised."
     "Perhaps. But I think I will not risk it." She glanced at Luke, who stood
gazing at the ground with his hood pulled far forward.
     "Skywalker," Xaverri said. "Why are you so melancholy?"
     He raised his head, but the starlight shone in his eyes. He flinched  and
ducked down again. Xaverri frowned and leaned against a rock spur  edging  the
trail. She gazed at Waru's retreat.
     At the far end of the dome, a group  of  people  entered  from  the  main
connecting path. They strode toward Waru's compound.  First  came  a  marching
phalanx of youths in blue uniforms. Their  chests  shone  with  medals,  their
shoulders with bright epaulets.  They  led  the  way  for  a  tall  man  in  a
shimmering white robe. Older youths in long white vests flanked the tall  man.
A more unruly crowd of richly dressed people brought up the rear.
     Han leaned on the rock beside her to watch.
     The blue-uniformed cadre stood guard on  either  side  of  the  filigreed
archway. The white-robed man walked alone into Waru's compound.
     Xaverri's whole body tensed. Han glanced at her.
     "What--?"
     "I know him," she whispered. "It is the Procurator of Justice."
     Han snapped around, following Xaverri's gaze. The  other  followers  were
entering the compound.
     Then Han saw, at the back of the crowd, a human  youth,  or  one  of  the
smaller species of sentient beings. He  held  the  hand  of  an  even  smaller
person, a child by the way he walked. They vanished between the two  lines  of
guards.
     Han froze.
     "Luke," he said.
     Beside him, Xaverri turned toward him, startled by the tone of his voice.
     Han's heart crashed against his ribs. "Xaverri..."
     "What's wrong, Solo?"
     "That's Anakin," he whispered.
     He vaulted over the rock and onto the steep  slope.  Ignoring  the  path,
ignoring the prickly mutant plants that ripped at his clothes, he stumbled and
slid down the hillside. Pebbles rolled and clattered, avalanching  beside  and
around him, making so much noise, raising so much dust, that he had no idea if
Luke or Xaverri were following him.
     Anakin vanished into Waru's retreat.

     For a moment, just a moment, Leia could imagine she was  taking  a  quiet
walk with Jaina and Jacen. They held her hands, trusting. Then  the  emptiness
of Anakin's loss drained her again, leaving a cold  and  hollow  spot  in  her
heart.
     "Can you catch any hint of Tigris?" Leia asked. "If Anakin  is  there..."
She sought desperately for a sense of her child.  She  felt  as  if  she  were
shouting as loud as she could, in a canyon so large she could  not  even  hear
the echoes. "If they're here--then what?"
     I've spent years bringing back the rule of law, Leia thought. Putting the
rule of justice in place of the rule of terror. But there is no law  here.  No
justice.
     "I'm not completely without resources," Rillao said.  She  strode  onward
without looking at Leia.
     "But we aren't armed. And you said... you  told  me..."  Leia  hesitated,
reluctant to bring up a subject that caused Rillao pain. "Wait, please." Jaina
and Jacen could not keep up, so Leia picked up  Jacen  and  Chewbacca  carried
Jaina.
     "I told you he overcame me, five years ago. Yes."
     "All his guards are with him. And he must be armed!"
     "He is. With his lightsaber... and mine."
     "Then--"
     "Lelila, you must have noticed! It's as your boy said."  She  glanced  at
Jacen, and brushed his tangled curls from his forehead. "Everything  is  weird
here."
     Leia nodded.
     "The Force is disturbed, disarranged. I open myself to it,  and  it  will
not touch me. I cannot heal--s Hethrir cannot destroy. Our worlds have  turned
to chaos."
     They exited the airlink and came out at the top of  a  long  slow  slope,
above a graceful building.
     "I could not use my lightsaber if I had it," Rillao  said.  "But  neither
can Hethrir."
     Leia frowned, confused. "Why not?"
     "Because Hethrir's lightsaber can only be empowered by the Force," Rillao
said. "Mine is built to the same design."
     They walked through an airlink and came upon a  peaceful  vista,  a  wide
valley spreading below them.
     Rillao stood on the hill above a graceful building surrounded by archways
and gardens. One by one, youths in pale blue uniforms passed  through  one  of
the arches, crossed a courtyard, and vanished into the building.
     "We have found him," Rillao said softly.
     "His guards, anyway," Leia said. "They'd be easier to recognize with  mud
on their uniforms."
     Leia put Jacen down and turned to Chewbacca. He growled in refusal before
she even spoke.
     "It's important!" Leia said. "I expected Artoo to stay with the children,
but he's disappeared! Please, Chewie! Someone's got to keep watch out here. In
case... in case we fail."
     Jacen clutched Leia's leg.
     "Mama, don't go away again!"
     She knelt beside him. "I have to, sweetheart. I have to  go  get  Anakin.
I'll be back soon." She steadied her voice. "I promise."
     Chewbacca sat on his heels, hugging Jaina in one arm, and gathered  Jacen
to him.
     "Hurry, Lelila," Rillao said as  Leia  rose.  Below  them,  the  last  of
Hethrir's Proctors disappeared inside Waru's building.
     Rillao and Leia hurried down the hillside path.
     Leia heard a scattering of gravel, the scuff of boots  on  steep  ground.
She turned.
     Partway around the dome, Han plunged down  the  slope,  heedless  of  the
trail. Luke and another person followed close behind.
     "Han!"
     Leia ran to meet him. She pushed her hair back from  her  face;  it  flew
behind her in the wind of her speed. Han slid to a stop in a  small  avalanche
of gravel and dust. Astonished, he enfolded her in his arms.
     "Leia--what--?" He touched her hair, her painted eyebrow, her cheek.
     "I found Jaina and Jacen," she said. "They're all right." She pointed  up
the hill, where  Chewbacca  stood  with  the  twins,  watching  unhappily  but
stoically. "But Anakin--we think Hethrir brought him here!"
     "Anakin is here," Luke said. He glanced at Rillao,  then  looked  at  her
more closely. She met his gaze coolly.
     "He's inside," Han said. "We saw him - - What happened?"
     Leia grabbed his hand and ran toward Waru's building.

     The crowd swept Tigris into its  excitement.  Hethrir's  guests  gathered
around the stage, below the great gold altar of Waru's form. Their lord  faced
it; the Proctors fanned out on either side of the entryway, standing along the
back wall, watching and alert.
     "Hello, Ally Hethrir."
     Tigris surreptitiously watched the new Proctor, amused by  his  surprise:
The altar spoke! It moved! Its gold scales rippled and surged.
     In Tigris's arms, Anakin watched, wide-eyed and silent.
     "Hello, Ally Waru."
     "What have you brought me, my friend?" the golden being asked.  Its  form
changed and expanded. Scarlet flesh swelled between the shining scales.
     "What you required," Lord Hethrir said. "I will give you a gift. And  you
will keep your promise to me. You will open me to the limits of the Force."
     "What have you brought me?" the being asked again,  its  voice  soft  and
wondering. "I have waited a long time. I am tired. I am lonely."
     Hethrir's guests pressed forward, whispering, "My lord, take  mine,  take
mine."
     The children at their sides drew back fearfully, but the guests held them
tight. One of the guests struggled to keep the  red-gold  centaur  child  from
scrambling away and fleeing. The child's hooves clattered and scrabbled on the
smooth stone floor.
     Lord Hethrir gazed over their heads. He gestured to Tigris.
     Tigris edged through the crowd. At first they resisted him--he  was  only
Tigris, in his grubby robe, nursemaid, figure of ridicule. He wished  Anakin's
ugly pet would lead the way, instead of  tagging  along  at  his  heels.  Lord
Hethrir's followers surely would move aside for those dripping fangs.
     Then Lord Hethrir gestured again,  and  the  followers  noticed  that  he
wanted Tigris.
     They parted, making a path for Tigris and Anakin.
     They knelt on the stone floor. Tigris was thrilled.
     If only Lord Hethrir would purify me, Tigris  thought.  I  know  I  could
serve him better. I could truly aid the cause of the Empire Reborn.
     He stopped before Lord Hethrir, his vision blurry with tears of hope  and
desire.
     "Give the child Anakin to me," Hethrir said. "I will present him."
     Anakin clutched at Tigris's neck, hiding his face. Tigris took  a  moment
to soothe him.
     "Do not hesitate  when  I  give  you  an  order,"  Hethrir  said  softly,
andforthe first time in all the years Tigris had known his lord,  and  honored
him, he heard fury in his voice.
     Anakin held tight.
     "Let go, Anakin." He tried to disentangle the little boy's hands from his
neck, from his striped hair. "This will be wonderful, I  promise  you.  You're
such a lucky little boy."
     Anakin trembled, trying to exert his unschooled abilities. But  even  his
light had faded. Lord Hethrir must have him completely in  his  power.  Tigris
managed to pry Anakin's hands loose.
     Tigris wished the Lord's control extended to making Anakin do what he was
told.
     Anakin looked into Tigris's face, and put one  hand  on  Tigris's  cheek.
"Tigis crying," he said.
     Embarrassed, Tigris ducked his head, trying  to  wipe  his  face  on  the
sleeve of his robe. But with Anakin in his arms, it was too  awkward.  He  put
Anakin down and wiped away the humiliating tears. Then, holding Anakin's hand,
he took the little boy to Hethrir.
     "No, Tigis," Anakin said. "No. Please?"
     Hethrir took Anakin's hand and led him toward  Waru.  Anakin  hung  back,
straining toward Tigris with his free hand. Anakin's creature tried to follow,
but Tigris grabbed it by the collar and held it  back.  It  strained  forward,
whining softly.
     All the followers of Hethrir watched,  envious  that  Anakin  was  to  be
purified, while the children they had brought were overlooked.
     Anakin plopped to the floor, sitting down hard, refusing to move.
     "Get up, child," Hethrir said. "Approach  your  fate  with  honor."  Lord
Hethrir dragged him a little way.
     Anakin kicked,  and  screamed,  and  his  face  turned  scarlet.  Hethrir
scowled, picked him up, held his feet from kicking, and approached Waru.
     Lord Hethrir placed Anakin, still screaming, on the gold scales of Waru's
base.
     "I have brought you what  you  wished,"  Lord  Hethrir  said.  "The  most
powerful child."
     He paused.
     "I have brought you the grandchild of Darth Vader."
     Tigris watched, his feelings  a  strange  mixture  of  jealousy,  regret,
dread, and horror. No wonder this gathering differed from all the  others.  No
wonder Lord Hethrir did not make Anakin go through the  training  required  of
helpers, and Proctors, and Empire Youth. Anakin would ascend in  one  step  to
the highest level.
     Or he would die in the purification ritual.
     Behind Tigris, the terrified centaur child reared and screamed and  tried
to escape. Her hooves slipped and scraped on the stone.
     The fanged creature pulled forward till its collar slipped from  Tigris's
grip. It ran after Anakin, howling piteously.
     And Tigris thought: None of Hethrir's guests brought  any  of  their  own
children.
     None of the children has any choice. It isn't fair! I would choose--
     Waru rippled its scales. They shimmered, liquefying.
     Anakin sank into the molten gold, shrieking in terror.
     "Tigis! Tigisffwas The little boy stretched his arms toward Tigris.
     I would choose to give myself to Waru, Tigris thought. I don't care about
the danger! But Anakin didn't choose.
     Tigris darted forward, grabbed Anakin, snatched him  from  the  altar  of
Waru's body, and turned to run.
     "What are you doing?" Hethrir cried.
     Waru rose, its body elongating enormously, scarlet ichor flowing from its
flesh. The being roared, a cry of protest, and anger, and desperation.

     The roaring shriek of the strange gold being overwhelmed Leia's cry  when
she saw Anakin. A youth pulled her little son  away  from  the  writhing  gold
creature. The youth stumbled backward, trying  to  flee.  Mr.  Iyon's  wyrwulf
crouched at the foot of the altar, growling.
     Leia ran toward the youth, toward Anakin. Han was right behind her.
     Leia ran through the crowd, through the ragged path the people  had  left
clear when they knelt. Some were struggling to their feet. All the adults were
human, but the children with them were of many other species.
     Leia and Han reached the youth who had rescued Anakin.
     "Papa! Mamaffwas Anakin cried. His face was streaked with tears,  flushed
with anger and terror. The youth--This must be Tigris, Leia thought,  oh,  my,
he looks like Rillaoff--was crying, too.
     Anakin struggled from Tigris's grasp. He  leaped  and  fell  into  Leia's
arms. She hugged him with desperate  gratitude.  She  held  him  against  her,
kissing his sticky face. Han touched Anakin's hair, gently, with wonder.
     "It's all right now, sweetheart," Leia said. "I'm here, Papa's here--"
     The golden being stretched  itself  toward  them.  Leia  had  never  seen
anything like it. She backed away, bumping into Han.  He,  too,  backed  away,
holding Leia and Anakin.
     Anakin scrambled over Leia's shoulder  and  flung  his  arms  around  his
father's neck. Han held him gently, radiant with relief and joy.
     A white-robed man--Hethrir, Leia thought - - grabbed Tigris by the collar
and shook him.
     "You fool! Wretched, worthless fool!"
     "Waru!" Luke ran past them all, passing Tigris, leaping onto the altar.
     "Luke, no!"
     He's empty-handed! Leia thought. He's attacking--defending--without  even
his lightsaber!
     "Stop!" Hethrir cried.
     Luke leaped onto the dais, onto the border of gold scales.
     "Waru!" Luke said.
     "What do you want, Skywalker?" Waru said, its voice rumbling.  "I  am  in
pain, I have no gifts to give my followers."
     Hethrir stared at Luke  in  confusion  and  anger.  Then  his  expression
changed to astonishment and recognition.
     "Skywalker!" Hethrir said. "Waru, take him. Luke Skywalker is  a  trained
Jedi. He is Vader's son!"
     The great gold being loomed. Luke faced it,  completely  open,  his  arms
spread wide. His boots sank into the liquefying gold. The  gold  being's  form
widened. It formed a concave surface, with great rough wings  curving  forward
to surround Leia's brother. Luke's reflection in  the  scales  was  distorted,
inverted, misshapen.
     "Yes," Luke whispered. "Take me."
     The being roared again, but  its  voice  was  softer,  a  great  sigh  of
satisfaction.
     "Luke!" Leia cried.
     Before she could react, the gold  wings  collapsed,  falling  onto  Luke,
inundating him. The gold scales liquefied, surging forward like waves, pulling
back like the tide.
     Luke disappeared.
     "No!" Leia cried, horrified. This  was  all  too  much  like  seeing  Han
trapped in the carbon-freeze--
     Anakin was safe in Han's arms. Han stared at Waru, the joy  in  his  face
turning to grief.
     Leia brushed her fingers quickly against his cheek. Han  looked  down  at
her.
     Leia turned toward the  roiling,  clenching  mass  of  molten  gold  that
imprisoned Luke.
     She ran after her brother.
     Leia dived beneath the surface of the golden sphere.
     Leia swam in golden light, her hair fanning all around her.  At  a  great
distance, she saw Luke, straining and twisting between great rippling  shields
of solidified  gold.  She  plunged  toward  him.  He  wrestled  futilely.  She
remembered his time in the regeneration tank,  where  he  slept,  and  dreamed
nightmares, and struggled to escape.
     Leia's breath burned in her lungs. She was afraid to breathe,  afraid  of
drowning in the thick and honey-colored light. But  she  had  no  choice.  She
gasped, and the warm thick radiance poured oxygen into her lungs. She exhaled,
and breathed again. It was hard work, but she was not drowning.
     The gold shields twisted and danced between Leia and Luke. She  tried  to
push one aside, but it turned edge-on to her and slashed at her like a  blade.
Her sleeve ripped. Leia tumbled backward,  then  kicked  upward,  outward--she
could hardly perceive gravity in the strange environment - - and  avoided  one
of the shields. Another whirled toward her. She met it  with  her  boots.  She
kicked it. It shattered. Its fragments shattered again, and disintegrated into
fine glittering gold dust, and disappeared.
     She slid between two other shining plates, and reached Luke's side.

     "We can't stay here, Chewieffwas Jaina cried.
     "Mama's down there, and Papa too, and Uncle Luke," Jacen said.
     "We have to help them." Something was wrong, she knew it. But  she  could
not tell what. Her head hurt so much.
     Chewbacca's growl turned to a cry. He was as upset about being  left  out
here, as anxious to go inside and help, as Jaina and  Jacen.  He  had  already
moved halfway down the hill, as Jaina and Jacen pulled at his hands, but there
he stopped.
     Mama left him here to protect us, Jaina thought. To protect the children.
     The dome reverberated with a mournful howl.
     "Chewie! That's Mr. Chamberlain's wyrwulf!"
     He glared down the slope, whuffling with indecision.
     Another child screamed.
     "It's Lusaffwas she cried. "Oh, Chewie, please--!"  She  pounded  at  his
leg, desperate, trying to make him go down the hill, trying to  make  him  let
her down. He glanced down at her. She stopped. She saw that she had hurt  him,
and she was horrified at herself for hitting him. "I'm sorry! I'm  so  sorry!"
She patted his fur, trying to straighten it  around  the  bandage.  "But  it's
Lusa, they're cutting off her horns, please, we've got to hurry!"
     She pulled out of his grasp and ran.
     Chewbacca roared. He grabbed Jaina and stopped her. He  lifted  her,  and
Jacen, onto his shoulders, and he loped down the hill with amazing speed.
     Chewbacca crossed beneath arches and entered the building. He had to push
his way into the theater past a line of Hethrir's Proctors, who barred the way
of a crowd of people fighting to get out. The people were in fancy  robes  and
jewelry. They all shoved and shouted, in a panic.  Chewbacca  pushed  straight
through them. Jaina was afraid of the Proctors. But they could not  even  turn
on their lightsabers! Jaina could not use her abilities, either. But Chewbacca
was not afraid of them at all. He walked through their line  and  hardly  even
slowed down.
     Everyone was shouting and screaming and running around. All the  children
Hethrir had sent away were right here, crying in fear. Even though they had no
place to run, they were all trying to run away.
     Except Lusa. She was running, but she was not running away. She ran right
up to one of the Proctors and turned her back on him and kicked  him  so  hard
with her back feet, with her cloven hooves, that he fell down. He lay  on  the
floor, groaning. Mr. Chamberlain's wyrwulf followed, watching curiously.
     Jaina laughed with delight. "Lusa!"
     The noise was so loud in the theater that Jaina  did  not  know  if  Lusa
could hear her. Jaina could hardly hear herself.
     Chewbacca never paused. He strode to the front of the theater, where Papa
stood holding Anakin. They were both safe, and both of them were crying.
     "Anakin!"  Jaina  shouted  with  joy.  "Papa!"  She  reached  down   from
Chewbacca's shoulder to touch her father, to make sure  he  was  real.  "Don't
cry! You're not dead, I knew all along you weren't dead! Where's Mama? Did you
see Mama? Where's Uncle Luke?"
     Nearby, Tigris looked confused and hurt and unhappy. The Firrerreo  stood
between him and Hethrir.
     She launched herself at Hethrir.  She  grabbed  him  by  the  throat  and
knocked him down.
     Papa put Anakin into Chewbacca's arms.
     "Take care of the kids," he said.
     Jaina had never heard Papa's voice sound like that before. He  looked  at
Jaina, and at Jacen, just a quick look that did not even last a second.
     "I love you," he said. "I'll always love you."
     He turned around and ran away and leaped up  at  a  huge  quivering  gold
sphere.
     He disappeared beneath its surface.
     "Papa!" Anakin buried his face against Chewbacca's fur and bawled.
     It was so beautiful--! Jaina wondered if  Papa  would  come  out  of  the
sphere all covered with gold like Threepio.
     Lusa ran up beside Chewbacca. "Jaina! Isn't this fun? It's  fun  to  kick
Proctors."
     "I'm so glad to see you! They didn't cut off your horns!"
     "No--but they were going to feed me to that monster, that monster can eat
people."
     "F-feed--?" Jaina whispered. She stared at the gold sphere where Papa had
disappeared, and she was afraid she knew what had happened  to  her  mama  and
Uncle Luke.

     * * *
     Tigris fell back against the dais. Waru's transformation roiled and shook
above him. Shock paralyzed him. He had not ever expected  to  see  his  mother
again. Hethrir had told him she was dead. She had been executed for  betraying
the Empire. For refusing to support the Empire Reborn.  And  Tigris  had  been
glad.
     Before him, she fought Hethrir bitterly.
     He should help his lord. But he could not move.
     Hethrir snatched his lightsaber from beneath his robe. Instead of turning
itself on at his command, it reacted with an electronic screech and an assault
of sparks and ozone. Hethrir cursed and dropped it. It spun across  the  floor
and crashed into the wall. It shattered, melting the stone beneath it.
     Rillao clawed at Hethrir's face. The second, smaller lightsaber fell from
his belt. Rillao leaped away from Hethrir. They  faced  each  other,  panting,
scraped, bleeding. Rillao feinted, and when Hethrir leaped to the attack,  she
ducked away from him and grabbed the fallen lightsaber.
     She did not engage it. She slipped it beneath her robe. In her moment  of
inattention, Hethrir leaped onto her back. She staggered. He choked  her  with
his arm, and when her knees trembled, Hethrir bared his sharp teeth. He  would
bite her spine, snap it, paralyze or kill her--
     "No!" Tigris shouted. He grabbed Hethrir's robe and pulled him back.  The
Lord's teeth snapped together, biting air, gashing his own lip. Rillao escaped
his grasp and fell forward, panting.
     "Foolish boy! Foolish! She's a traitor!" Blood gushed down his chin.
     "Please don't kill my mother, my lord."
     Hethrir snorted in disgust. "She's a traitor! She betrayed  the  Empire--
she betrayed you!"
     Rillao struggled to her feet. "You are the traitor," she said.
     Tigris  glared  at  her,  furious.  "How  dare  you  say  that  to   Lord
Hethrirffwas
     She looked at Tigris sadly, then faced Hethrir again. "You could not tell
him, could you, Hethrir?"
     "Do not speak my name!" he said.
     To Tigris, she said, "He is a traitor to you."
     Tigris shook his head, confused.
     "Hethrir is your father."

     Han swam toward Leia and Luke, flailing through the thick light. He  swam
forever, until his muscles ached.
     Waru was far larger  inside  than  outside.  The  creature's  circulation
whirlpooled around a central point of darkness. It looked like the black  hole
and its accretion disk.
     Han wondered, Could the black hole open a portal to another universe?  Is
that where Waru came from?
     Nothing could escape the black  hole's  gravity...  but  the  singularity
distorted time and space around it--
     None of that mattered. All that mattered was getting to  Leia,  to  Luke.
They swam back to back, fending off  creatures  that  looked  now  like  knife
blades, now like streamlined predators with hides of molten gold.  Han  plowed
through the ring of attackers, succeeding in his  blind  rush  because  Waru's
predators were so intent on the prey at the center of their circle.
     "Han--!" Leia's warm fingers wrapped around his. He melded into a  circle
with his love and his friend. They swam,  back  to  back,  kicking,  twisting,
fighting.
     The whirlpool swept them around and pulled them inward, toward the  point
of utter darkness.
     "Swim!" Han yelled. He knew--How do  you  know?  he  asked  himself,  and
answered, I don't know, I only  know  what  I  know--t  if  they  touched  the
darkness, they were doomed forever.
     He thought he could hear the ghosts of the people Waru had killed.
     He kicked, a swimming kick. He tried to propel himself and Leia and  Luke
away from the center, out of the maelstrom, to Waru's molten skin. Leia joined
his efforts.
     But Luke floated between them, strangely quiescent, holding them back.
     "Give yourself to me, Skywalker," Waru said. "I'll  show  you--I'll  open
you to the greatest power you can imagine."
     Luke slipped away, diving toward Waru's trap.

     * * *
     "It's lying!" Leia cried. She felt her brother falling. He drew her  with
him, tempted her with him.
     He slipped away from her. She swam after him.  The  whirlpool  drew  them
deeper.
     "It's the truth," Waru said. "I am truth."
     The siren song of Waru's voice soothed Leia's fears. Her fingers  slipped
from Han's grip, and when she tried  to  find  him  again,  the  golden  light
blinded her.
     The whirlpool held her hand.

     Chapter
     13

     Jaina rode Chewbacca's shoulder, with Jacen  beside  her.  Chewie  hugged
Anakin close against his chest with one arm. With his free hand,  the  Wookiee
grabbed one of the Proctors by the scruff of  his  neck  and  shook  him.  The
Proctor grabbed his lightsaber but Jaina was not even afraid of it.  She  knew
it would explode as soon as he tried to turn it on. He  did,  and  it  flashed
sparks and burned his hand and fell to the floor in pieces. Jaina was glad.
     Chewbacca shook him again.
     "I yield!" the Proctor screamed.  "Please,  stop!"  Chewbacca  shook  him
again and let him fall. The Proctor cowered on the floor.
     All the children were running around, shouting and screaming, holding  on
to the Proctors' legs, sometimes biting them, tripping them and running  away.
Lusa and Mr. Chamberlain's wyrwulf played with them together. Lusa  rushed  up
and turned to kick, while  the  wyrwulf  crouched  behind  the  knees  of  the
Proctor. The Proctor would step back and fall over the wyrwulf. Lusa  and  the
wyrwulf laughed and howled and ran away.
     If the Proctor did not step back, Lusa kicked him. Sometimes  she  kicked
even when she did not really have to.
     The Proctors had bullied some of the guests into a corner of the theater.
Jaina did not know why they were trying  to  keep  the  guests  inside.  Maybe
Hethrir wanted to feed them to the gold monster.  A  lot  of  the  guests  had
escaped, leaving the children behind.
     The Proctors could have escaped if they had let all the guests run  away.
They might even have won the fight. There were a lot  more  of  them  than  of
Jaina's friends. But without the use of their lightsabers, and without Hethrir
to tell them what to do, they were lost.
     Chewbacca picked up another Proctor and shook him and dropped him on  the
floor. When he tried to stand, Chewie picked him up and shook  him  again  and
held him higher and dropped him again. He stayed where Chewie put him.
     The person who had come down the  hill  with  Papa  and  Uncle  Luke  let
several of the Proctors rush her, then spun and ducked out of their way.  When
the Proctors ran into each other, she grabbed their arms and twisted them  and
made the Proctors fall down. She ripped their sleeves to the elbows  and  tied
their arms together behind their backs. She  ripped  their  pants  halfway  up
their legs, and tied their knees together.
     Chewbacca and Papa's friend  advanced  on  the  last  two  Proctors.  The
Proctors brandished the handles of their useless lightsabers. Jaina  was  glad
the Proctors could not turn their lightsabers on in this  strange  place.  But
she was sorry too, because it meant she could not do anything to help.
     I wish I had four legs and hooves, she thought. Like Lusa! Or  big  fangs
like Mr. Chamberlain's wyrwulf!
     The last two Proctors dropped their lightsaber handles and fell to  their
knees.
     As Papa's friend bent to tie them, Jaina slipped from  Chewbacca's  back,
climbing down his fur, and ran to Lusa. She embraced her. Lusa bent  down  and
hugged Jaina, and rubbed her forehead, and  her  horns,  against  the  top  of
Jaina's head. Lusa's horns had broken through their  velvet.  Now  instead  of
being soft red-furred knobs, Lusa's  horns  were  transparent,  as  bright  as
diamond, cool and ridged and smooth.
     "Thank you, Jaina. Thank you, thank you," Lusa whispered.
     Jaina started to cry.
     A few of the guests tried to sneak out of their corner. Chewbacca snarled
at them. They cowered away from him.
     Unafraid of Chewbacca's roaring, the children all clustered  around  him.
Papa's friend joined them.
     "Do you remember  me?"  she  asked  Chewbacca.  "I've  changed,  but  I'm
Xaverri."
     He snorted in surprise, then put one huge gentle hand  on  her  shoulder.
She patted his wrist.
     "Papa," Anakin wailed. "Papa, come back!"
     They all turned toward the molten sphere. Anakin stretched out his hands,
yearning toward the shining surface.
     There was no sign of Papa or Mama or Uncle Luke.
     "We have to rescue them!" Jaina said. She ran toward the  golden  sphere.
Lusa leaped in the air and followed.
     Chewbacca roared in distress. He ran after Jaina and scooped her up.  She
struggled, but he hugged her and she cried against his rough fur.
     "Chewie, what are we going to do?"
     He faced the dais and roared.
     Anakin shouted again. "Papa! Mamaffwas
     "Uncle Lukeffwas Jaina and Jacen cried. "Mama! Papaffwas
     "Solo!" Xaverri shouted.
     Lusa joined them in calling out, and the wyrwulf howled again. The  other
children crept around them and gathered  around  Chewbacca's  feet,  and  they
yelled too.

     Tigris stared at Hethrir, stunned. "My father--?"
     "A traitor, and a liar," Hethrir said. "What do you expect, from  someone
who would abandon her oath to the Empire? To Lord Vader. To meffwas
     "What of your vows to me?" Rillao asked sadly.
     "You gave up any right..."
     Tigris realized that his mother was telling the truth. Hethrir  had  been
caught in a lie. Tigris had never before seen him at a loss for ^ws.
     "Were you so disappointed  in  me,"  Rillao  asked,  "that  you  couldn't
acknowledge our son?"
     "Our son," Hethrir said, with pure contempt, "deserved no acknowledgment.
He can never fulfill my legacy. He is ordinary."
     Tigris's face burned with humiliation.
     Hethrir turned away from Rillao, from Tigris, and leaped onto the dais.
     "Waru! The time has come! You have Skywalker! Keep your  promise  to  me,
Waru! Make me omnipotent!"
     Tigris tried to follow him, but Rillao  grabbed  him  and  held  him  and
stopped him.
     "Let me go!"
     "He isn't worth your loyalty! He isn't worth your life!"

     Han struggled to keep his grip on Leia's hand, struggled to swim  up  out
of the whirlpool.
     "Swim!" Han shouted. "Please, Leia, I love you, swim!"
     But she was captured by  Waru's  promises,  by  Luke's  fascination.  Her
fingers slipped from his hand. Her beautiful hair waving  around  her,  hiding
her like a cape, she dove and descended into the golden light.
     "Leia!" He dove after her, toward the cold darkness.

     Leia basked in the siren song of Waru's promises. The  melody  distracted
her from the voice calling behind her. She followed Luke toward--
     "Mama, Papa, Uncle Lukeffwas
     She hesitated. The whirlpool pulled her into a spiral. She slowed, trying
to remember what those ^ws meant.  She  swam  a  few  strokes  as  the  ^wless
assurances of Waru drew her deeper.
     "Mama! Come back, Mamaffwas
     She remembered the sound of Jacen's voice, her joy  when  he  kissed  her
cheek, her wonder and delight as he and Jaina grew and changed and learned.
     "Mama!"
     She remembered the glow of Anakin's spirit.
     Leia stopped, floating, spinning dizzily. The gold light  opened  beneath
her, and pressed her down from above.
     "Papa! Mama! Uncle  Lukeffwas  Chewbacca's  roar  pushed  the  children's
voices through the light.
     Below her, Luke hesitated in his headlong plunge. He was  very  close  to
the point of darkness. If he touched it, he could never escape.  He  would  be
destroyed.
     "Luke," Leia whispered. "Luke, we have to go back."
     Han appeared beside her, shining in Waru's radiance. He took her hand.
     "Luke--!"
     "Leave him to me," Waru said. "Leave him, and I will free you."
     "No!" Leia cried. "Give him back to us, why do you want him?"
     "He can help me return to my home." Waru's  voice  softened.  "Won't  you
help me? You know what it is to miss your home. I can see that. I've been away
so very long."
     Waru's voice was so sad that Leia let herself drift closer, deeper.
     "How can we help you?"
     "Leia!" Han tried to draw her back. "Don't listen!"
     "His power can help me open a portal--" Luke raised his  head.  His  eyes
were empty. Leia gasped. She barely recognized him as her  brother.  She  knew
that if he helped Waru, he would be destroyed. She tried to reach  him,  tried
to pull him up out of the whirlpool. He struggled against her.
     The darkness opened, expanding, reaching hungrily after them, swirling at
Luke's feet.
     "Uncle Lukeffwas Jaina cried.
     Luke shivered. He closed his eyes. He shook his head.
     When he opened his eyes, he looked confused, but he was Luke again.
     "Where--? What--?"
     "Come with us!" Leia said.
     Luke kicked fiercely. Leia and Han pulled him.
     They escaped the night by a hairsbreadth. Holding Luke in her arms,  Leia
gasped with relief.
     They all fled, plunging away from the pursuing night, fighting their  way
through Waru's illumination. The  whirlpool  burst  into  chaotic  eddies  and
erratic spirals, knocking Leia back and forth as she fled.
     She reached toward the shimmering golden surface. Her fingertips  brushed
it, broke it, reached through into the air.
     Leia fell out onto the dais, drawing Han and Luke along with her. She lay
on the stage, panting for breath. She staggered to her feet and slid  off  the
stage, wanting only to get away from Waru's touch. Luke lay  collapsed  behind
her. She helped Han drag him from the altar.
     Jaina and Jacen and Anakin ran to her and launched themselves at her. She
knelt to hug them, tears streaming down her face. Chewbacca loomed  over  her.
Han swept Anakin into his arms, and Luke picked Jaina up.  Leia  stood,  still
hugging Jacen, and Chewbacca wrapped his arms around them all.
     The children were safe.
     Waru's voice filled the theater. "You did not keep your promise, Hethrir.
You did not give me the child. You did  not  give  me  the  Jedi.  I  owe  you
nothing. I am hungry, Hethrir, I am hungry and lonely and dying, and I want to
return home."
     "No--!" Hethrir cried in terror.
     The golden surface expanded, quick as a snake's  strike.  It  broke  over
Hethrir, surrounded him, engulfed him.
     Hethrir disappeared, leaving nothing behind but a scream.
     Something happened. All three children whimpered. Lusa jumped straight up
in the air. Rillao flinched, and Luke moaned, and Leia felt as if a gong  were
ringing in her head. It was as if for an instant  the  Force  had  disappeared
from the universe.
     The feeling vanished, leaving Leia breathless and shaken.
     Unaffected, unaware of the disturbances raging all around him and tearing
at the fabric of space-time, Tigris broke free of Rillao and  jumped  up  onto
the stage after Hethrir. Rillao lunged and grabbed his ankle. She held  on  to
him with tenacious desperation. Xaverri ran to help her.
     "Let me go!" Tigris struggled. Rillao was too  shaken  to  hold  him.  He
broke away just as Xaverri reached for him.
     Rillao cried out in despair.
     Tigris flung himself against Waru's golden shell.
     The gold yielded, then rebounded, flinging him away. Waru's shell rang, a
great low-pitched bell. Tigris fell to the stage.
     The ringing slowly faded.
     The only sound was Tigris's anguished sobs.
     Waru's golden shell solidified.
     It began to contract.
     Rillao and Xaverri drew Tigris from the stage.
     "Tigris," Rillao said, "my sweet son--"
     "Leave me alone!" he snarled. "Never say my name! Never!"
     He ran a few steps, then stood, shaking, with his shoulders hunched.
     "Mama?" Jaina said.
     "I'm all right, sweetheart." Leia looked into Han's eyes, and smiled. She
hugged Jacen, she held him with one arm and touched Luke's face with her  free
hand, then squeezed Chewbacca's arm, as he held all  his  human  friends,  his
Honor Family, in a protecting embrace. "We're all all right. We're going home.
"

     Jaina surveyed the  theater  from  the  vantage  point  of  Uncle  Luke's
shoulder.
     "All those Proctors escaped!" she said. "And the other people, too!"
     Once the Proctors were tied up, the guests had fled. Xaverri had tied the
Proctors with their uniforms. They had ripped the cloth,  untied  each  other,
struggled free. They had all run away. Bits of light blue uniform and the dead
handles of lightsabers littered the floor.
     Jaina was wrong about all the Proctors. One was left,  the  one  who  had
just been promoted. No one had stopped to untie him, and he had not been  able
to free himself. He struggled, but could not rip his knotted uniform.
     "We should go after them," Papa said.
     "They're no threat, without Hethrir," Xaverri said. "The  ones  you  must
worry about are those Hethrir placed within the Republic." She  smiled  wryly.
"But I suspect they will soon find themselves unemployed."
     "We'll deal with them," Papa said. He sounded mad. "The guests, too,  the
damned slavers! They all ought to be in jail!"
     "I will tell you where to find them," Xaverri said. "Soon. When I am done
with them. When you complete an important task: return these children to their
homes." Her smile vanished. Her voice was shaking. "These children still  have
homes."
     "Xaverri--" Papa said.
     "Good-bye, Solo." She turned to Mama. "Good-bye, Princess Leia. I'm  glad
to have met you."
     "Good-bye," Mama said. "Thank you, Xaverri."
     "Good-bye, Xaverri," Papa said.
     She strode away without another ^w, walking up the slope of the  theater.
She paused long enough to cut loose the last tied-up Proctor,  to  fling  away
his lightsaber, and then she walked out of the theater without looking back.
     The Proctor staggered to his feet. He looked so funny, with the arms  and
legs of his uniform cut off, that Jaina laughed. He glared at her,  but  there
was nothing he could do. He glanced after  his  lightsaber,  but  he  was  too
frightened to retrieve it. Stumbling, awkward, he fled.
     On the stage, the gold sphere contracted to the size of a  ball.  Hethrir
must be squished up inside it.
     Jaina felt safe.

     Leia feared for no one for the first time in too long. She worried  about
Rillao and Tigris, reunited, yet separated by Hethrir's lies.  But  she  could
not bear more fear.
     "Let's go home." Han stared at the diminishing sphere that had been Waru.
"This place gives me the creeps."
     "It gives me a headache," Rillao said. "I do not like this system at all.
It is... disconnected."
     Leia went to her brother. She set Jacen on the ground and reached up  for
Jaina, still on Luke's shoulders.
     "Come down, sweetheart," she said. "Your Uncle Luke is tired." Jaina dove
into Leia's embrace and hugged her tightly, then jumped down and  wrapped  her
arms around Luke's waist.
     "You lean on me, Uncle Lukeffwas she said.
     Luke looked gray with fatigue and pain; "Thank you, Jaina," he said.  His
gaze kept returning to Waru's sphere.
     "What did it want from us?" Leia asked. Waru whispered to my brother, she
thought, and told him--tempted him...
     "It was stranded," Luke said. His gaze was haunted. "It could  only  gain
energy by annihilating the Force of our universe with the  anti-Force  of  its
own."
     "And Waru reached the Force..." Leia said, horrified.
     "Yes. Through people. By destroying people."
     "Lusa said it eats people," Jaina said.
     "The Ithorian child," Han said.
     Luke nodded. "But Waru didn't always kill its victims. Sometimes,  if  it
was satiated, it would feed the power back. It really could  heal  people,  or
strengthen them. That's what happened to Hethrir's Proctors if they survived--
if they were reborn. And that's what Hethrir wanted for himself. To  have  his
connection to the Force strengthened and refined. It  is...  a  very  tempting
offer." Luke shook his head as if flinging  off  a  memory.  "Hethrir  had  to
satiate Waru before he'd risk himself. He needed someone stronger than he was,
someone Waru would prefer--yet someone Hethrir could control."
     "Anakin," Leia whispered. Han smoothed Anakin's dark  hair,  holding  him
protectively.
     "Anakin get down!" Anakin said. Reluctantly, Han let him down. Anakin ran
to Luke, and gazed up at him.
     "Waru didn't care what Hethrir wanted," Luke said.  "Waru  needed  enough
power to rip a path through space-time back  to  its  own  universe.  Like  an
electron and a positron. Bring them together,  and--"  He  clapped  his  hands
together. "Annihilation. Unimaginable energy." He closed  his  eyes.  "Hethrir
thought he'd be able to tap into that power. And... for a moment, so did I."
     "Is it gone for good?" Han asked.
     Luke nodded. "And Hethrir, too. Waru wanted to go home."
     Leia could not make herself feel the least sympathy for Waru.
     Luke drew Jaina and Jacen and Anakin into an embrace. He kissed them each
on the forehead.
     "Thank you, young Jedi Knights, for calling me back."
     "You're welcome, Uncle Luke," they said.
     "Hey," Han protested. "Don't Leia and I get any credit?"
     Luke hugged the children, and smiled.
     Leia and Chewbacca gathered the stolen children together. Rillao put  her
arm around Tigris. He shrugged it off angrily. He tried to pick  up  the  gold
sphere that had been Waru, but he could not lift it, he could not move it.  He
ran out of the theater, leaving Rillao behind. Leia  took  Rillao's  hand  and
squeezed it, hoping to give the Firrerreo some comfort.
     "Oh, Lelila," Rillao said. "My sweet son..."
     "Give him time."
     "Yes. And peace, if we can find it."
     "I'll help you," Leia said. "Luke can help--"
     "No!" Rillao gripped Leia's hand intently.  "Tigris  has  been  too  much
under the influence of Hethrir. He cannot counter it. He must be  left  alone,
to find himself. If he returns to me, it must be of his own free will."
     Leia's eyes filled with tears of sympathy for the  distress  in  Rillao's
voice.
     "I know a place where you can rest, and  think,  and  talk,  and  play--a
refuge, for as long as you need it. A place of peace."
     Rillao tensed. It was not the custom of her people to accept  charity  or
even sympathy. Leia was afraid Rillao would snarl, "Who  asked  you  for  your
help?" and stalk stiffly away.
     "My family owes yours so much!" Leia said sincerely. "We'll always be  in
your debt, Firrerreo." I'll never speak Rillao's name in  public  again,  Leia
realized. I'll never again use that power over her. "Please let me repay you a
little."
     Rillao hesitated. "I accept, Lelila," she finally said.
     Rillao glanced at the altar. The sphere contracted to half its  size,  to
half its size again, and again. Each contraction happened  more  quickly.  The
sphere was the size of an orange, an egg, a marble. It blurred.
     A grain of golden sand lay on the altar. With a blaze of energy, the pop!
of air filling a vacuum, it disappeared.
     Rillao shivered and turned away.
     "Come with me," Leia said.
     "Very well, Lelila."
     Together, they walked into the light of the crystal star.
     Tigris had run halfway to the hill, and then he had stopped.  He  sat  on
the ground with his back to them, his head down. Rillao  watched  him  from  a
distance.
     Leia passed through the archway of Waru's retreat.  Heat  and  brilliance
hit her. Her knees trembled with exhaustion. She sat abruptly on  the  ground.
Jacen ran to her, worried, and cuddled in her lap. She held him, smoothing his
unruly hair. Rillao sat on her heels beside them, gazing toward her son.
     The sky beyond the dome amazed Leia. The crystal star orbited  the  black
hole, closer and closer, crashing through the glowing whirlpool. Gravitational
stress was ripping it apart. The black hole pulled a swirl  of  glowing  star-
stuff from the dwarf's surface and spun it  into  the  accretion  disk,  which
blazed more and more brightly. Leia had to look away, before it dazzled her.
     Mr. Chamberlain's wyrwulf flung itself at her feet and gazed at her  with
wide gold eyes, panting.
     Free for the first time in--how long? - - the  stolen  children  ran  and
shouted and played. Lusa leaped in a capriole, jumping high  in  the  air  and
kicking her hind feet.
     Han sat behind Leia.
     "Are you okay?"
     She nodded, too tired to speak.
     Jaina nestled in her lap next to Jacen. Anakin ran over and cuddled  with
his brother and sister. Leia hugged them. Han put one arm around them all, and
stroked Leia's hair. Leia leaned gratefully into Han's warmth and strength.
     "We'd better get out of here," he  said.  "But  first  we  have  to  find
Threepio."
     "And Artoo," Leia said.
     "Speaking of," Luke said.
     Artoo-Detoo and See-Threepio  descended  the  trail,  Artoo  rolling  and
bumping along at full speed, Threepio walking as fast as he could.
     "Mistress Leia! Master Luke, Master Hanffwas
     "Mr. Threepffwas Anakin jumped up and ran toward Threepio and grabbed him
around the leg.
     "Master Anakinffwas Threepio said. "I'm delighted to see you well!"
     Anakin stood on Threepio's foot to ride back to Leia.  He  shrieked  with
delight.
     Both droids slowed when they saw Tigris, but the youth did not  react  to
them. Artoo rolled on by; Threepio passed him with a curious glance.
     Anakin jumped off Threepio's foot and ran to Tigris. He grabbed  Tigris's
grubby shirt and pulled him toward the others. Tigris  shrugged,  pulling  his
shirt out of Anakin's hands.
     Mr. Chamberlain's wyrwulf loped after Anakin. The heavy chain attached to
its collar clanked and rattled.
     Threepio reached Leia  and  Han.  "We  must  hurry,  Master  Hanffwas  he
exclaimed.
     "Where have you been?" Han asked. "And what happened to you?"
     Threepio's new purple varnish had crackled all over like the glaze of  an
antique pot.
     "A strange man--he was with that boy--" Threepio gestured toward  Tigris.
"Master Anakin was with him! When I requested an  explanation,  why,  the  man
struck me! With a lightsaber! I was of course completely disabled. I was lucky
not to be dismembered! Master Luke, if this is the caliber of the  people  you
are looking for, I beg you not to try to find any more of them!"
     "Don't worry, Threepio," Luke said.
     "They imprisoned me! Artoo discovered me, and resuscitated my circuits--"
     Artoo-Detoo trilled emphatically.
     his--but no time for  that!"  Threepio  exclaimed.  "Artoo  has  made  an
ominous discovery!"
     "I'm  not  sure  we  can  stand  another  ominous  discovery,"  Han  said
indulgently. "Can it wait till after supper?"
     "I fear not, sir. The white dwarf star has cooled into a perfect  quantum
crystal. Very rare--unique, to my knowledge! As the black hole  increases  the
amplitude of its resonance--"
     "The crystal star is resonating?"
     "I beg your pardon, Master Luke?"
     "The crystal star is resonating."
     "Indeed it is, sir--I believe I said as much. The resonances  destabilize
its orbit. The crystal star is in danger of falling into the black hole at any
moment."
     Threepio paused to be sure everyone knew what this meant.
     Everyone did.
     Threepio continued anyway. "When that happens - -  the  violence  of  the
explosion, the density of the X-ray flux... No  living  being,  biological  or
mechanical, will survive."
     "How long have we got?" Han demanded.
     "The possibilities are never all calculable, I regret to  say,"  Threepio
said.
     Artoo whistled insistently.
     "I believe I said that, too," Threepio retorted. "It is clear to everyone
that we do not have much time."
     Leia shooed Jaina and Jacen out of her lap, and jumped to her feet.
     "Children!" she called. "Come along! It's time to go home."
     None of the stolen children begged to be allowed to run and play a little
longer. Even Lusa, who had run all the way around Waru's  retreat  at  a  dead
gallop and passed Leia on the way to making another circuit, slid to  a  halt.
She pranced and danced in place.
     "Home!" she said. "Home!"
     The stolen children set off up the hillside, shepherded by Chewbacca  and
Threepio and Artoo. Chewbacca looked like a pile of children, for  he  carried
them on his back and in his arms. Two  of  the  little  ones  rode  his  feet,
delightedly clutching his fur and squealing with each stride. The rest of  the
children jockeyed for a place as near to him as they could get.
     "Let's go, love," Han said to Leia. They held hands and walked toward the
hillside trail. Rillao and Luke and the twins followed.
     As they approached Tigris and Anakin, Tigris unfastened  the  collar  and
chain from Mr. Iyon's wyrwulf. He rose and threw the collar away, as  hard  as
he could.
     Mr. Iyon's wyrwulf sat on its haunches and gave its neck a  good  scratch
with both feet of its central legs.
     Rillao stopped a few paces from Tigris.
     "My son," she said gently. "We must leave."
     Tigris glared at her. "No."
     "This system will die soon."
     "I don't care!"
     Leia joined them. "Then it doesn't matter," she said, "whether  you  come
with us or not. So you might as well."
     Tigris glanced at her, quizzically.
     "Tigris come home!" Anakin demanded.
     Tigris laid his hand on Anakin's dark curly hair. "I have no home, little
one."
     "Cookies!" Anakin grabbed Tigris's hand and pulled.
     Tigris raised his head and looked his mother in the eyes.
     "You didn't steal the Force from me, did you?"
     "No, my sweet," she whispered.
     "I never had any abilities at all, did I?"
     Sadly, she shook her head.
     "Wait a minute!" Han said. "Kid, you saved my son's life. Maybe you can't
use the Force. So what? Neither can I, and it hasn't held me back."
     "Who are you?" Tigris said.
     Han laughed, surprised. "Maybe my disguise is better than I thought.  I'm
Han Solo."
     "I was taught to hate you." Tigris added thoughtfully, "As I  was  taught
to hate my mother."
     "That's too bad," Han said with genuine regret.  "I'm  grateful  to  you.
Thank you for bringing Anakin back to us."
     "And I was taught to respect you--" Tigris said.
     "That's a start--"
     his--z an enemy."
     Han grinned his lopsided grin. "A weird start, but a start all the  same.
Come on, kid. Let's get out of here."
     "I don't have any choice, do I?" Tigris said belligerently.
     "Not a whole hell of a lot," Han said.
     With a show of revulsion, Tigris trudged after the other children. Rillao
watched him go, her shoulders slumped. Leia put her arm around her new friend.
     "It is a beginning," she said.
     "Yes, Lelila. A beginning."
     Han made a choking sound. Startled, Leia looked up.
     He was doing his best not to laugh at Tigris.
     "Han!" Leia said. "Stop it!"
     "Okay," he said, his voice strangled. He controlled his laughter by force
of will, and grinned crookedly at her. "I don't know what he does  think,"  he
said, "but I don't think he wants to die."
     Even Rillao brightened at that. "I believe you are right," she said.
     "Luke?" Leia said. Her brother was staring at Waru's  retreat.  Leia  had
the irrational fear that he would run back inside.
     "Resonance," Luke said. "That's it."
     "What?" Han asked.
     "The resonance. Of the  crystal  star.  It's  disrupting  the  Force--t's
what's been happening to me."
     "To me, too," Rillao said.
     Luke spun toward her. "You--a Jedi?"
     She drew the inactive lightsaber from inside her robe. She did not try to
engage it, but she fastened it to her belt in its proper place.
     "I see that you found your "small machine,"'" Leia said.
     Rillao nodded solemnly, then glanced at Luke.
     "Perhaps, when we have left this place, we might spar a bit. Though I  am
badly out of practice."
     Luke managed a smile. "I'd like that."

     Han thought: We have three hours to get out of here. Three hours, more or
less. It's the "less" that bothers me. Like Threepio said,  the  possibilities
are never all calculable.
     "What about Crseih?" he said to Leia.
     "What about it?" she replied.
     "When the star goes--the station will get blown to dust."
     "Subatomic particles, more likely," Leia said with some satisfaction.
     "Leia!" Han protested.
     "She is right," Rillao said. "This place is best destroyed."
     "People live here," Han said. "A friend of mine lives here."
     "Warn her," Rillao said.
     "If I can find her," Han said.
     "If Xaverri does not survive," Rillao said, "it will be a shame."
     Leia relented. "We'll warn everyone. Of  course.  But  surely  they  keep
watch on their own star. Surely they know  they  have  to  evacuate!  This  is
supposed to be a research station, after all."
     "Whatever was done here," Han said, "you can hardly call it research."
     Leia slipped her hand into his.
     "How could I not know about the trade?" she said. "I  thought  everything
was going so well, and all  along  the  Empire  still  terrorized  people,  in
secret--!"
     "You sent Winter to investigate--"
     "I never talked to people who might have been  affected.  Back  on  Munto
Codru, I spent a whole day talking to officials and ambassadors,  and  when  I
asked about the people still waiting to talk to me, I let myself be told  they
didn't have anything important to say."
     "Sweetheart," Han said. He put his arm around her shoulders and drew  her
close. She leaned  against  him  and  embraced  him,  and  they  walked  close
together. "You've been working yourself half to death--y expect  too  much  of
yourself."
     "I could say the same of you," Leia said fondly.
     "And I could say I should have known about the trade."
     "But--"
     "I learned a lot about Hethrir and his followers from Xaverri," Han said.
"They're careful and they're wary and they have  enormous  resources.  Plunder
from the Empire..."
     "All the more reason to find them."
     "Yes. Now."
     "I always like to have an important project," Leia said dryly.
     Han chuckled, his laugh part self-deprecation.
     They walked up the hill in silence, and passed into the airlink.
     Han leaned toward Leia and whispered, "Did I tell you  how  much  I  like
your hair that way?" He twined his fingers in the long, smooth strands.
     Her free hand flew to her head.
     "I forgot it was down!" she said.
     She decided to leave it that way.

     Han  surveyed  the  landing  field.  It  was  a  cacophony  of  departing
starships, shipowners  arguing  with  field  personnel,  residents  seeking  a
passenger berth.
     "Looks like some people are paying attention," Han said.
     As Leia and Chewbacca divided the children into two groups, one to  board
Alderaan and the other to depart on the Millennium Falcon, Han hurried over to
See-Threepio.
     "Can you get in touch with Xaverri?" he said. "She never  would  tell  me
where she lived, how to reach her--"
     "I have already done so, Master Han,"  Threepio  said.  "In  fact..."  He
pointed to a derelict-looking ship rising off the field with a  precision  and
speed that belied its ugliness. "I believe that is her ship now, on  a  course
for hyperspace."
     Han relaxed, and grinned. "She always did like deceptive appearances."
     "Papa!" Anakin, riding on  top  of  Han's  shoulders,  kicked  his  heels
against his father's chest. "Look at Mr. Chamberlain's woof!"
     The great fanged wyrwulf lay on the field, curled up, its nose hidden  by
its bushy black tail, all six limbs pulled in close  beneath  it.  Han  strode
over to it and sat on his heels beside it.
     "Hey, fella, are you all right?"
     The wyrwulf opened one eye halfway, whined, and curled up tighter.
     Leia hurried over. "Oh, my," she said.
     "Do you know what's wrong with it?"
     "Nothing," she said.
     "Strange kind of nothing."
     The beast was sweating heavily. Its sweat was thick and blue.  It  flowed
out over the wyrwulf's fur, matting it down.
     She smiled. "I think that when we get back to Munto Codru, we'll bring  a
little boy or a little girl to Chamberlain Iyon, in place of his wyrwulf."
     "What?"
     The blue sweat solidified  on  the  wyrwulf's  body,  forming  a  rubbery
coating.
     "It's metamorphosing," Leia said. "When it wakes up  again,  it  will  be
self-aware--a Codru-Ji child."
     The blue sweat flowed down over the wyrwulf's face. The wyrwulf  snorted;
the sweat covered its nose and mouth. The rubbery blue coating formed a seal.
     "Help me carry it onto the ship."
     Luke joined them. "It looks like I feel," he said.
     "You do look a little blue," Han said.
     "I'll be all right as soon as I get out of--"
     Luke fainted.

     Jaina waited for liftoff in Alderaan. She held Uncle Luke's  hand.  Jacen
sat on Uncle Luke's other side. Between them they kept watch over him. If they
could just get away from this system! Mr. Threepio had tried to explain  about
the resonating star, the quantum crystal. Jaina did  not  understand  why  the
white dwarf star did not look like a big jewel, a huge diamond in  space.  But
she did understand that it was why  she  could  not  use  her  abilities.  She
understood that it was making Uncle Luke sick. That it would also make her and
Mama and Jacen and Rillao, and Anakin especially, sick, if they did not  leave
soon.
     "Almost ready, now," Mama said, her voice disembodied. She was  up  front
in the cockpit with Rillao. Papa and Chewbacca were  over  on  the  Millennium
Falcon, with Threepio and Artoo and Anakin and most  of  the  other  children.
Tigris was on Alderaan, but he might as well be anywhere, or no place at  all,
because he would not speak to anyone.
     Lusa and the wyrwulf's chrysalis lay on Mama's bed in  the  other  cabin.
Lusa was scared. She had not been on very many space flights. Jaina wished she
could be with her.
     "We're all ready, Mama," Jaina said.
     "How's Luke?"
     "He's... he's very quiet, Mama."
     The engines whispered.
     "Leia, is Artoo  with  you?"  Papa's  voice  sounded  fuzzy  through  the
comlink.
     "No, I thought he was on the Falcon," Mama said.
     "What? Okay, you get Luke out of here, I'll take one more look around for
him."

     Han could not lift off without Artoo-Detoo.
     The radiation shields withdrew. Above Millennium Falcon and Alderaan, the
sky was free.
     But Han could not leave without the droid.
     He jumped up with a curse. "Did you see where Artoo went?"
     Chewbacca snorted a negative.
     "I just don't know what to do," Threepio said.  "That  Artoo-Detoo  never
does as I ask--never does as expected--"
     "Where did he go?" Han demanded.
     "I believe--though I could be wrong, he does sometimes give me inaccurate
information--"
     "Where?"
     "He went looking for the engine controls of Crseih Station."
     "I ought to let him get vaporized along with  the  rest  of  the  blasted
place--"
     Han jumped up and headed for the Falcon's exit ramp.
     "If I'm not back in fifteen minutes--"
     Chewbacca's roar drowned out his ^ws.  Han  grinned.  Chewbacca  was  not
about to leave without him.
     With a musical beep and warble,  Artoo-Detoo  lurched  from  the  landing
field to the Falcon's entry ramp, and rolled toward him.
     "About damn time!" Han said. "We were going to leave you behind."
     Unperturbed, Artoo whistled and rolled on by. Han and  Threepio  followed
the little droid into the Falcon.
     "What did you say?" Threepio said, outraged. "What do you mean, you don't
care if you miss the flight? Do you want to get vaporized? Why,  we've  waited
so long looking for you that we might be vaporized no matter what!"
     Artoo-Detoo whined and wheeped.
     "Why--why, I must say, that was very clever of you."
     Han threw himself into the pilot's seat and strapped in. "Let's  get  out
of here."
     The Millennium Falcon came to life around him.
     "Artoo-Detoo has arranged," Threepio said, "for Crseih Station to  follow
us out of this system so it will not be  vaporized.  Many  of  Lord  Hethrir's
guests are still on board..."
     "And they'll be easy to round up," Han said.
     The Falcon rose above the battered landing field of Crseih  Station,  and
soared into space after Alderaan.

     Leia headed for the hyperspace point, but her attention  was  behind  her
ship, back on Crseih Station and the  Millennium  Falcon  and  the  tumult  of
elemental forces that would soon explode. The crystal star  raced  around  the
black hole, faster and faster, closer and closer, with  more  of  its  surface
stripped away into great glowing streamers of burning plasma.
     Leia's head ached fiercely, as if her brain vibrated  in  time  with  the
star system's resonance. Rillao, too, looked pale and ill.
     "Hold on," Leia said, as much to herself as to  Rillao.  "Just  a  little
while longer, and we'll be away from this place."
     "Yes," Rillao whispered.
     In the distance,  Xaverri's  ship  vanished  into  hyperspace.  Leia  was
curious about her. She wanted to talk to her, to learn more about the times in
Han's life that he usually avoided discussing. Strangely enough, she  did  not
feel jealous of Xaverri.
     I always believed, if I met her, I'd think she  wasn't  good  enough  for
Han, Leia thought. But she was. And I'm glad.
     She watched intently for the Millennium Falcon.
     Where are you? she cried in her mind.
     "Mama?"
     "Yes, Jaina?"
     "I think... I think you better hurry... Uncle Luke..."
     The burning whirlpool  spun  furiously,  ripping  the  glowing  crystal's
surface to ribbons. The whirlpool blasted out  X  rays,  gamma  rays,  intense
light. Leia closed her eyes, trying to force away the pain.
     "Han!" she cried, but no  transmission  could  penetrate  the  primordial
cacophony.
     Suddenly, against the brilliance of the dying stars, a point of  darkness
appeared and expanded.
     "It's the Falcon!" Leia said.
     It streaked toward Alderaan. Leia accelerated, wild  joy  overcoming  the
resonating pain. The Millennium Falcon raced Alderaan toward hyperspace.
     In the far distance, the crystal star  spiraled  inward.  Nearer,  Crseih
Station plunged into motion, its engines shuddering it into flight.
     The face of the crystal star reached the event horizon of the black hole.
     The crystal star shattered.  Ripped  apart  by  unimaginable  forces,  it
disintegrated into atoms, into stripped nuclei and electrons,  into  subatomic
particles. As they fell toward the black hole, energy  burst  from  them.  The
radiation fueled a pressure wave of  gas  and  stripped  atoms  that  exploded
outward, to sweep away anything in its path.
     On Alderaan, Leia felt the disruption in the Force before the storm could
reach her; she knew she must escape before the light and the X  rays  and  the
pressure wave could reach her.
     Hyperspace flared open before her. Her ship blasted  toward  safety,  the
Falcon at its side, Crseih Station just behind.
     The disruption of the crystal star lifted from Leia's shoulders.
     She was free.
     She was going home.

     Leia piloted Alderaan from hyperspace into the normal space of  the  star
system of Munto Codru. Then she waited, anxiously.
     The Millennium Falcon appeared.
     "Han!" Leia said.
     The transmissions became clear once more.  Han  replied  from  Millennium
Falcon.
     "We made it," he said.
     "Are you all right? Is Anakin?"
     "He's okay. I was worried there at the last - - but he's okay now."
     As Han spoke, Crseih Station dropped into existence a  few  light-seconds
away. It slipped into orbit around Munto Codru's sun. Following  Artoo-Detoo's
instructions, its engines turned themselves off. The outlaw station,  and  all
its inhabitants, were stranded.
     Hethrir's worldcraft spun serenely, surrounded by every ship in the Munto
Codru system, as Leia's advisers and the Munto  Codru  officials  rescued  the
lost children and began the work of returning them to their homes.
     Leia unstrapped herself from Alderaan's pilot's couch and hurried back to
the twins. They were excited, exhausted, as  bright-eyed  as  if  they  had  a
fever. She hugged them and kissed them.
     "You're so brave," she said. "So smart, and so brave.  I'm  so  proud  of
you."
     She took Luke's hand. It was cold and slack.
     "Luke--"
     "Uncle Lukeffwas Jaina said. "Wake up!" said Jacen.
     Rillao joined them. "Let me help," she said.
     She sat on her heels beside Luke. He did not stir.
     "Do not leave us now," she said.  "You  were  in  the  influence  of  the
crystal star, but you survived. You were in the influence  of  Waru,  but  you
survived."
     She stroked his forehead.
     "Come back to us, Jedi."
     Luke's eyelids fluttered.
     "Are you going to let a little thing like a rip through  space-time  slow
you down?" Rillao asked.
     Luke opened his eyes. He looked at her, and smiled.
     On the other side of the cabin, in silence, Tigris watched his mother.
     Lusa clattered down the companionway and skidded around the corner.
     "Are we home yet?" she asked.