practicing certain techniques that I fear may lead him to the dark side. I'm
very concerned, Han. He's the most powerful of all the students I've had
here.
He stole Mara Jade's ship and left Yavin 4. I have no idea where he is now
or
what he's doing."
Han forced his mouth into a thin line, but Luke continued. "Kyp has a
great deal of power, and a great deal of anger and ambition--but little
understanding or patience. That's a dangerous combination."
Han felt helpless. He barely noticed as Lando escorted Mara Jade up the
ramp into the Falcon. "I don't know what to do, Luke," Han said.
Luke nodded grimly. "Neither do I."
The Millennium Falcon cruised through hyperspace with a vibrating hum of
hyperdrive engines. Lando tried to keep his voice down as he leaned close to
Han in the cockpit.
"Just let me tinker with the food-processing units, Han. Please? I've
memorized some programming from the finest Cloud City casinos, and I can
generate recipes that would make Mara Jade float with pleasure."
"No." Han scanned the chronometer that counted down how much time
remained on the journey back to Coruscant. "I like the food processors the
way
they are."
Exasperated, Lando slumped into the copilot's chair and sighed. "They're
all programmed for greasy, heavy Corellian recipes. Someone like Mara needs
exotic food, special preparation. Not nerf sausage and dumplings with soggy
charbote roots."
"Lando, that's the food I was brought up on--and on my ship, I want the
food-prep units to make dishes that I like. I already wasted the whole
journey
to Yavin helping you scrub the living compartments in the back, polishing
the
holochess table, and perfuming the whole ship with disinfectant."
"Han," Lando said, "the ship was filthy, and it stank."
"Well, I liked it that way," Han insisted. "It was my dirt, and my stink,
on my ship."
"Only because you got lucky in sabacc." Lando stood up, straightened his
cape, and smoothed his purplish jumpsuit. "I let you win. You could never do
it again."
Han and Lando glared at each other across the hastily cleared game board.
Lando kept flicking glances toward Mara Jade as he randomized the rectangles
of Han's old sabacc deck.
Mara had ignored Lando f or most of the journey to Coruscant. She had
rebuffed his attempts to prepare dinner, find musical selections for her,
and
engage her in conversation. Now as she watched them playing cards to settle
a
dispute over the ownership of the Falcon, she scowled as if they were no
more
than two little boys scuffling in a child's amusement pen.
Lando took the pack of glittering metallic cards so that the crystalline
faces showed and held them toward Mara. "My lady, would you care to cut the
cards?"
"No," she said, "I would not."
"I'm getting tired of this, Lando," Han said. "First I won the Falcon
from you in a sabacc game on Bespin, then you won her back from me in the
diplomatic lounge on Coruscant, and I won her back from you en route to
Calamari. Enough is enough. This is our last hand."
"Fine with me, old buddy," Lando said, and started dealing the cards.
"No rematches," Han said.
"No rematches," Lando agreed.
"Whoever wins this time keeps the Falcon from now on."
"You got it," Lando said. "The Millennium Falcon belongs to the winner to
do with as he pleases. No more borrowing, no more arguing."
Han nodded. "Loser gets a lifetime of Coruscant public transport." He
picked up his cards. "Shut up and play."
Han tossed down the cards that had betrayed him and stood up to hide the
devastating sense of loss coursing through him. He felt as if his heart had
been crumpled like a piece of discarded paper and then stuffed back into his
chest. "Go ahead and gloat, Lando."
Cool-faced, Mara Jade had watched the entire game with less indifference
than she pretended to show. Now she scowled as if she expected Lando to
stand
up and cheer in triumph. Han anticipated the same reaction.
Halfway to his feet, Lando stopped and calmed himself, straightening in a
dignified fashion. "That's it," he said in a slow, rich voice. "End of game.
We'll never play for the Falcon again."
"Yeah," Han said in a barely audible voice, "that's what we agreed."
"And the Falcon is mine, to do with as I please," Lando said.
"Go ahead and gloat," Han said, again, using sarcasm to mask his own
despair. He kicked himself for being lured into another stupid game. He had
been an idiot, with nothing to gain, and now he had lost everything. "I
should
have known better than to play with you."
"Just like vornskyrs hissing at each other in a territorial dispute,"
Mara said, shaking her head. Her exotic spice-colored hair hung to one side.
She did nothing to make herself look attractive, yet somehow it worked to
her
advantage.
Lando glanced at Mara, then turned partly aside as if ignoring her. With
a grand flourish he spread his hands wide and gestured to Han.
"But since you're my friend, Han Solo, and since I know that the Falcon
means even more to you than she does to me"--Lando paused for effect and
stole
another glance at Mara Jade before continuing - com?I choose to give the
Millennium Falcon back to you. A gift from me to you. A testimony to our
years
of friendship, and all that we've been through together."
Han collapsed back into his chair, feeling his knees turn weak and
watery. His throat shriveled, and he opened and closed his mouth several
times, completely at a loss for what to say.
"I'm going to the food-prep units," Lando said gallantly. "If Han will
let me adjust the programming, I'll see if I can prepare the finest repast
your units can manufacture, and we'll all have a nice meal together."
Han felt too stunned to argue, and Lando didn't wait for an answer. He
cast a second look back at Mara Jade as he went toward the galley.
Still in shock, Han saw her raise her eyebrows and look after him with a
surprised and mystified smile, as if completely reassessing her opinion of
Lando Calrissian - - wh, Han concluded, must have been Lando's plan all
along.
The Hammerhead Momaw Nadon arranged for Wedge Antilles and Qwi Xux to go
sight-seeing across the pristine Ithorian landscape in an open-air skimmer.
On
the transit landing platform, the dazzling morning sky was a pale whitish
purple with high wisps of cloud that masked several dim moons still riding
the
sky.
Qwi strapped herself into the plush vegetable-fiber seat and looked into
the sunshine. "Why didn't you want Momaw Nadon to guide us?" she asked,
studying the topographic information and the scenic highlights Nadon had
suggested. "He seems very proud of his world."
Wedge concentrated on the control panel, though the vehicle looked rather
simple to operate. "Well, because he's very busy
, and because..." His voice
trailed off, and he looked up at her with a faint smile. "I kind of wanted
to
be alone with you."
Qwi felt a giddy elation rising within her. "Yes, I think that would be
nicer."
Wedge lifted their skimmer off the pad, and they soared away from the
great disk of the Ithorian eco-city and across the treetops. The Tafanda Bay
had drifted many kilometers during the course of the night, and Wedge had to
recalibrate the skimmer's coordinates. Daylight warmed their faces as the
wind
breathed cool drafts against their skin.
They headed for a low ridge where the dark-green jungles fell away into a
paler forest. "What are you taking me to see?" Qwi asked.
Wedge leaned forward, staring at the horizon. "A large grove of bafforr
trees that was half-destroyed by the Imperials during their siege many years
ago."
"Is there something special about those trees?" Qwi asked.
"The Ithorians worship them," he said. "They're semi-intelligent, like a
hive mind. The greater the forest grows, the more intelligent the trees
become."
As they skimmed closer, Qwi could see that an aquamarine crystalline
forest glowed faintly in the sunlight, covering part of the hillside. Wedge
let the skimmer hover as they bent over the sides to gaze down at the glassy
trunks, at the smooth yet sharp webs of bafforr branches. Scattered around
the
perimeter, large, dark cylinders had toppled to the ground and broken like
tubes of burned transparisteel. It reminded her of the debris scattered
around
the site of the smashed Cathedral of Winds on Vortex. Tiny saplings like
inverted icicles protruded from the rocky earth.
"The forest seems to be growing back," Wedge said. The thin saplings
glowed a whiter blue than the rest of the forest.
"I see people down there!" Qwi said, pointing off to the side. The smooth
grayish forms of four Ithorians dashed for the cover of the thick
undergrowth
on the side of the ridge. "I thought they weren't supposed to set foot in
the
jungle."
Wedge stared down at them, baffled. He raised the skimmer higher, but the
four renegade Ithorians had already vanished into the tree cover. His brow
furrowed as if searching for an answer. He drew in a quick breath.
"I seem to remember something about the Mother Jungle summoning certain
Ithorians. It's a rare calling that no one can explain. They leave
everything
behind and live in the wilderness, forbidden to return to their eco-cities.
In
a way, they become fugitives. Since the Ithorians consider it such sacrilege
to touch the forest, the calling must be pretty strong."
Qwi looked down at the burned glasslike trunks of the bafforr trees
destroyed by Imperial turbolaser fire. "I'm glad to know they're tending the
forest, though." She wondered how much of the bafforr forest's collective
intelligence had returned. "Let's go somewhere else, Wedge, so they can get
back to their work."
Wedge took Qwi to a high plateau studded with flat gray and tan rocks,
covered with vermilion scrub brush and black vines. A confluence of three
rivers came together in a great sinkhole on the edge of the towering cliff,
pouring into a spectacular triple waterfall that plunged into the plateau's
deep pit. At the bottom of the plateau, water spilled out of a thousand
broken
caves, flowing into a turgid, foamy marsh filled with swaying reeds and
leaping fish.
Wedge circled the open-air skimmer above the enormous sinkhole on the
plateau, and Qwi gaped at the fabulous waterfall. Curtains of spray rose
from
thundering echoes of plunging water. Rainbows sparkled against the lavender
sky.
Qwi turned her head this way and that, trying to look at everything at
once. Wedge grinned like a daredevil and took them over the center of the
three waterfalls, hovering and then lowering them down the core of the
sinkhole.
Qwi laughed as the thick, cold mist blanketed them, drenching their
clothes. Wedge dropped the skimmer to where all three rivers crashed against
the rocks with a sound like exploding planets. Green batlike creatures
flitted
through the spray, catching insects and tiny fish that tumbled over the
falls.
"This is fantastic," Qwi shouted.
"It gets better," Wedge said, "if Momaw Nadon gave us good information."
He steered the skimmer toward a cluster of slick black outcroppings that
jutted from the side of the pit. The overhang sheltered them from most of
the
cold spray and cyclonic winds swirling in the rock-walled chimney. The
booming
echo of water became a constant background.
Wedge brought the skimmer in among the rocks to a sheltered place where
shafts of sunlight pierced the rising swirls of spray. "Nadon said we could
land here."
He reached into a compartment under the seat, pulled out two translucent
waterproof capes, and removed two packages of self-heating meals Nadon had
also provided. Wedge helped Qwi fasten one of the waterproof garments over
her
narrow shoul ders, then fastened his own. He picked up their lunches and
"Let's have a picnic," he said.
At the end of an exhausting day Qwi stood outside her vine-covered
stateroom door on the Tafanda Bay. Wedge looked into her indigo eyes and
shuffled his feet.
"Thank you," Qwi said. "This has been the most wonderful day of my life."
Wedge opened his mouth and closed it three times, as if searching for
something to say. Finally he bent forward, touched her silky mother-of-pearl
hair, then kissed her. He let his warm lips linger on hers for a long
moment.
She pushed closer to him and felt delight surge through her.
"And now you've given me one more interesting thing," she said in her
quiet musical voice.
Blushing, Wedge backed away from her and said, "Uh, I'll see you in the
morning." He turned and practically fled back to his own stateroom.
With a wistful smile Qwi watched his door close. She opened her stateroom
and slipped inside, feeling as if she had repulsorlifts in her feet. She
leaned against the door as it closed and shut her eyes as the gentle
illumination in her room slowly brightened. She heaved a contented sigh.
And opened her eyes to see a dark man rising from his crouch in the
shadowy corners of the room.
The looming silhouette approached her, and she froze in terror at the
sight of the swirling black cape that flowed around his body.
Darth Vader!
She tried to shout for help, but her voice locked in her throat as if an
invisible hand had stilled her vocal cords. She whirled for the door and
hung
in midstride, yanked back by unseen spiderwebs.
The dark man was closer now, gliding toward her. What did he want? She
couldn't scream. She heard his hollow breathing echo like the snarl of a
beast.
A hand reached out for her, and Qwi couldn't move, couldn't duck away as
the fingers wrapped around the top of her head. She felt him pressing there.
The other hand, cold and supple, grasped her face. She blinked her wide eyes
and looked up to see the face of Kyp Durron, eyes blazing, his expression
soulless.
He spoke in a freezing voice. "I have found you, Dr. Xux. You hold too
much dangerous knowledge," he said. "I must make certain no one can ever
again
create the weapons you've been responsible for. There must be no more Death
Stars. No more Sun Crushers."
His fingers clamped down harder on her forehead, on her face. Her skull
seemed ready to shatter. Waves of pain plunged through her brain like the
claws of a nightmare monster. She felt the sharp points of metal talons
scraping through her mind, digging, prying up, and ripping out memories and
scientific knowledge she had accumulated over the course of many years.
Qwi finally managed a scream, but it was a weak, watery cry that faded as
she fell down a long, dark tunnel into forgetfulness. She slumped against
the
vine-covered wall of her quarters.
As her sight turned dim in front of her, the last thing she saw was the
black-shrouded form of her attacker as he opened her stateroom door and
stalked out into the night.
Next morning Wedge whistled to himself as he dressed, smiling into a
reflection plate as he straightened his dark hair. He ordered an exotic
breakfast for two. Qwi was an early riser, especially now that she was
excited
about the sight-seeing they would do on Ithor. Momaw Nadon had promised them
the open-air skimmer for another day.
He sauntered across the corridor, signaled at her stateroom door, and
waited. No answer.
He signaled again and again until, alarmed, he tried to open the door.
Finding the entrance to Qwi's room unlocked, he was even more alarmed. Had
someone come to assassinate her in the night? Did the Imperials know her
location, after all? He pushed the door open and rushed inside. Darkness and
shadows filled her quarters.
"Lights!" he yelled. Sudden illumination bathed the room in pale peach-
colored light.
He heard Qwi before he saw her. She sat crouched in corner, sobbing. She
clutched her pearlescent hair with both hands, squeezing her temples as if