by Steve Perry
“Yes, my lord. I’ll send them out at once.”
Vader turned back to the viewer. Was it Luke? He couldn’t yet be sure. The dark side might not have limits, but he had, and all he could tell at this distance was that some powerful locus for the Force lay in that collection of shattered rocks ahead of them. He didn’t believe it could be anything else but Luke, but he was not certain. He had to proceed with caution. With Xizor’s manipulations poisoning the well at Imperial Center, it was more important than ever to capture Luke alive. A little closer and the vagueness would undoubtedly resolve itself. He was too close to lose his son again. Sooner or later, he would find him and turn him to the dark side. He was sure of it. He was Darth Vader; he had exterminated the remaining Jedi with his own hands. All but the strongest of them, his own son.
Sooner or later he would face the last would-be Jedi. One way or another, he would deal with him, too.
Leia used the blowers to dry off after her bath, combed her hair out, and had to admit she felt a whole lot better than she had in a while. It wasn’t often these days she got to soak in a hot tub. Most of the places she’d been, the ships she’d traveled there on, you were lucky if they had enough recycled graywater for a tepid shower. You got in, sprayed just enough water on yourself to get wet, lathered all over, and rinsed off with a few liters before the automatic timer shut it off. It was better than nothing but not nearly as much fun as stretching out in a vat carved out of black marble full of steaming water so hot it turned your skin red. That had to be one of civilization’s best luxuries.
She went to the closet, opened it. Noticed a small drawer built into the wall and saw that it contained undergarments. Well. Xizor thought of everything.
All right. Which of these dresses should she wear?
Xizor stared at the blank spot where the holoproj would be if he lit it. There were hidden holocams throughout the castle, of course, in virtually every room.
Including the room in which Leia had been installed.
He toyed with the thought of running the recording, to see if she’d taken advantage of what the room had to offer.
But—no. He didn’t want to spoil it. He would get a closer look at her later.
Much closer.
27
The Millennium Falcon left the asteroid field opposite the approaching megaship and was ready to make the jump to hyperspace.
Luke looked at his sensors. “We have TIE fighters coming in. I make it about three dozen of them. Any time, Lando.”
“Here goes,” Lando said. “If you believe in luck, wish for the good version.”
He reached for the control. Engaged the drive—
Nothing happened.
Lando swore at the ship, a string of colorful phrases, including several graphic—if highly unlikely—descriptions of things he wished it would do to itself.
“I’d better get back to the guns,” Luke said. He started to rise.
“No, wait—”
“We don’t have time to wait; in ten seconds we are going to be swarmed with TIEs—”
Lando touched another control, made an adjustment.
“Now!”
The Millennium Falcon leaped. Space blurred around it in the familiar shift as the freighter transited to hyperspace.
“Ha-hah!” Lando said.
Luke, halfway out of his seat, was thrown back into it hard. When he recovered himself, he glared at Lando. “You cut that awful close.”
Lando shrugged. “Hey, you wanted a boring life, you should have stayed on Tatooine.” He smiled, pleased with himself. “I knew I could fix it.”
Luke shook his head but had to smile in return. They were, for the moment at least, safe. What did it matter what had almost happened? Almost didn’t count.
“Now, if some other special Solo modification doesn’t put us into the middle of a star, our next stop should be Tatooine. As soon as Leia and Chewie are finished with their business, we can get back to rescuing Han.”
“Fine by me,” Luke said. “Haven’t they finished yet?”
Lando shrugged. “They had to take a slight detour.”
Luke got the feeling Lando wasn’t telling him everything, but he let it slide. He was tired. He needed to rest, get something to eat; then he could follow up on this conversation.
Vader stared out into space as the captain nervously approached.
“M-My lord Vader,” he began.
Vader repressed a sigh. “There is no need to say it, Captain. Your pilots lost their prey.”
“The ship left the asteroid field and made the shift into hyperspace as they approached. There was nothing they could do.”
“And did your pilots identify the ship?”
“It was a small Corellian freighter.”
Vader said nothing. Solo’s ship, the Millennium Falcon, no doubt, now under Luke’s control. Perhaps he had the young princess with him and that traitorous gambler Calrissian.
“Set your course for Imperial Center, Captain.”
“But weren’t we supposed to—”
“Let me worry about that.” He paused.
The captain was correct. The Emperor had sent him here for reasons other than to fetch Luke. “Very well. There is a suspected Rebel base on one of the Kothlisian moons.”
“I know of no such base, my lord—”
Vader turned his gaze upon the captain, who quickly shut up.
“As I said, there is a suspected Rebel base on the moon. Before we leave, you will allow your men to display their prowess by pinpoint-bombing that base.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Luke was gone, he couldn’t tell where, and Xizor still up to his twisted trickery within sight of the Emperor. He would locate his son later; meanwhile, best he get back to where he could deal with Xizor. There was an old Sithian proverb that said, “Even when fighting the great sabercat, it is best not to turn your back upon the lowly serpent.” A bite from a tiny spit adder could kill you just as dead as the arm-long fangs of a giant predator. And the snake’s kiss would be slower and more painful, too.
“Hurry, Captain. I do not wish to be kept waiting.”
“No, my lord.”
Leia put on a dark bodysuit before she slipped into the nearly transparent green dress. It was probably not the designer’s intent that her choice of undergarments cancel out the see-through cloth, but she wasn’t interested in letting Xizor look at that much of her.
It felt vaguely decadent to be wearing several thousand credits’ worth of clothes. She hadn’t done that since she’d been a girl on Alderaan.
She went into the ’fresher and looked into the mirror. She had made use of a well-stocked makeup drawer next to the looking glass, just a touch, and managed to plait her hair and pin it up so it didn’t resemble the nest of a crazed ship rat. At least it was clean. She tried a smile.
Chewie should be here by now.
She went to the room’s door. Frowned when it didn’t open automatically. She found the manual control, but when she tried it, the door still refused to slide aside.
Ah. It seemed that Lord Xizor didn’t want guests running around loose in his castle.
But as she turned around, the door slid open. Chewie stood there, sans his dye disguise. The haircut still looked odd, but with the coloring gone the Wookiee looked more familiar.
Howzmin stood behind him.
She wanted to tell Chewie that she needed to see Xizor alone. “Give us a moment, would you?” Leia said to Howzmin.
The servant nodded, a choppy military gesture.
Chewie stepped into the room. The door closed.
He stared at Leia. Turned his head to one side quizzically.
“What are you staring at? I put on some clean clothes, that’s all.”
Chewie said nothing.
Leia felt a sudden stab of guilt. Chewie and Han were like brothers. She hadn’t done anything wrong, but she felt as if she had, so she tried to explain it: “Look, we need Xizor’s help. There’s no reason I can’t look
nice; maybe it’ll throw him off guard.”
Still silent, Chewie raised one eyebrow.
Leia felt herself flush. “Who is the diplomat here, anyway? I don’t tell you how to fly, you don’t tell me how to conduct interviews.”
Finally the Wookiee said something. He punctuated it with a wave of one hand at the door, then at Leia. She didn’t understand the comment, but she had a pretty good idea of what he was trying to convey: Chewie didn’t approve. Would Han?
In a Gamorrean’s eye he would.
“It’s none of your business how I dress!” she said. Maybe that came out a little more snappish than it should have. She started to apologize but then changed her mind. She and Han weren’t married; they hadn’t had time to even pledge anything. Yes, she loved him and she thought he loved her, but he’d never said it. When he had the chance, he’d said, “I know.” What kind of commitment was that? “I know”? Two words instead of three? How much harder was it to say one more short little word?
There was nothing wrong with trying to look nice for a handsome man, especially one who could help save Luke’s life. It wasn’t as if they were going to do anything! What was Chewie doing being so righteous? She had nothing to feel ashamed about. Nothing at all!
Then why do you feel so guilty, sister?
In his most private of chambers, Xizor sat alone on a pad in the otherwise bare room, eyes closed, fingers interlaced in his lap. His breathing was deep and regular, his mind clear. He began to concentrate as he called upon his special hormonal abilities.
The attractants in him built, began to seep from his pores. His pheromones came forth, colorless, odorless, save to receptors carried by humanoid females. To the bearer of those small organelles hidden and nearly invisible inside the olfactory channels, the attractants would be overwhelming; they would carry a compulsion stronger than a hypnotic command.
There was no way to stop the color of his skin from shading into the red. No matter. She wouldn’t care what color he was, once she felt him call to her.
He had given her but a taste of them before. Now he would set before her a banquet. One she could not refuse.
He took a deep breath, let it out. Almost ready. The coldness was there, but soon, soon—soon the passion would be set free.
He smiled.
Artoo and Threepio held a quiet conversation in the lounge. Luke, on his way to the galley to fix the meal he’d never gotten to, paused and looked at the droids.
“Something up?”
Threepio said, “Artoo is a bit worried about Princess Leia. I told him that she is quite resourceful,” Threepio said. “I’m sure she’s all right.”
Luke shrugged. He went into the galley. In that moment, he had the feeling that Leia, wherever she was, was in great danger.
His hunger vanished. He didn’t feel like eating anymore. Maybe he’d better go and have that talk with Lando. Now.
In the cockpit, Lando said, “Sorry, buddy, but I’m not supposed to tell you.”
“What?”
“The princess wants you on Tatooine, and she said when you asked, to tell you she took care of herself before she met you and she can take care of herself now.”
Luke glowered.
“Besides, she’s got Chewie with her. He won’t let anything happen to her, you know that.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Look, she’ll probably get to Tatooine before we do. And she’s in charge, remember?”
Luke nodded. But he didn’t like it. Something felt wrong.
When the door to Xizor’s sanctum opened, Leia almost gasped. The crime lord now wore a long, flowing robe done in shades of red that seemed to reflect that color onto his uncovered skin. The clothing could have been made by the same designer who had done her dress. And he wasn’t wearing a bodysuit under it. He was big under the thin cloth, hard and muscular, and if there were any visible anatomical differences between him and basic stock humans, she couldn’t see them.
He smiled. “Do come in, Princess.”
Behind her, Chewie said something. Xizor must have understood it because his smile dropped for an instant before he recovered it. “Perhaps your friend would care to take this time to dine while we conduct our negotiations?”
From Chewie’s tone, he would not care for that at all.
Leia had forgotten to tell him that in her room, so defensive had she been about her clothes. Now she said, “Chewie, wait outside.”
He really didn’t like that.
She turned to face the Wookiee. “Han would trust me here. You should, too.”
Chewie wasn’t sure, but he shut up. Took a step backward and nearly knocked Howzmin over.
“I’ll be fine.”
The door slid closed between them.
When she turned back around, Xizor had moved to a small bar behind the leather couch. “Something to drink? Luranian brandy? Green champagne?”
“Tea would be fine, Your Highness.” No way she was going to drink anything potent around him.
“Call me Xizor, please. We can dispense with titles, now that we are alone.”
Leia watched as Xizor poured her tea. He seemed almost to … glow, and she felt dizzy watching him. She moved to the couch, sat on one end. Tried to relax but felt a strange tension grip her.
When he rounded the couch to bring her the tea, his hip brushed against the back of her head.
It sent a shock through her, a rush that was kin to dropping in free fall, a stomach-full-of-moths kind of sensation. Whoa!
Xizor handed her the teacup and moved to the other end of the couch and sat.
Leia felt a brief pang of disappointment that he hadn’t sat closer to her.
And a sudden stab of worry at that thought. What was she doing?
She tried to bring an image of Han to mind. But all of a moment, she couldn’t see his face. It was as if she had somehow forgotten what he looked like …
Stop this!
Xizor said, “So, the Alliance might be interested in doing business with Black Sun?” He sipped at whatever it was he was drinking.
Leia thought he looked absolutely fascinating as he drank.
She scrambled to collect her thoughts. “Uh, yes, we, that is to say, the Alliance, we have been considering such an alliance.”
Alliance considering an alliance? What is the matter with you, Leia? Have you lost your wits?
Xizor seemed to take no notice of her poor choice of language.
“Well, certainly there are advantages to such a … liaison,” he said.
Leia felt hot all of a sudden. She wished she hadn’t worn the bodysuit. She had an urge to excuse herself, find a ’fresher, and take the undergarment off. The cloth of the dress would feel so good against her bare skin.
And what would Xizor’s hand feel like against her bare skin—?
She shook her head, trying to clear it. This was crazy! She didn’t even know him! But he was so, so—so something.
“I—we—the Alliance, we feel that while Black Sun’s aims are not the same as ours, the Empire is our mutual enemy.”
“Yes, war does make strange bedfellows, doesn’t it?” He smiled.
Bedfellows …
“Here, let me warm your tea,” he said.
“No, it’s fine …”
But he was already up. He bent, lifted her hand with one of his, took the cup from her.
His touch was electric; it sent a charge through her as if she had grabbed a live capacitor node. She gasped.
Again, he seemed to take no notice of what she said.
Time seemed mired in thick mud. Xizor moved away so slowly; sounds seemed muted; Leia felt the heat in her growing. Something was wrong here. She felt, well, she felt too good. As if being here were the best thing in the universe. Well. Almost the best thing. Xizor needed to forget about that tea and come back; then the best thing would start …
Leia! What is the matter with you?
Trouble, sister. Big trouble. You’d better leave. Fast.
But leaving was the last thing she felt like doing.
In hyperspace, Vader considered his next move. He had arrived too late to collect Luke, but he had waved the Imperial flag and blown up a small spaceport. Whether or not the port had anything to do with the Rebels didn’t matter, only that they thought he thought it did, and thus reasoned that the computer they had stolen was important to the Empire.
Half his mission had been accomplished, though to his mind it was the lesser half.
He had no evidence against Xizor, only speculation and rumor. Thirdhand knowledge from a soon-to-be-executed bounty hunter would hardly be enough to indict one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy. He was convinced, but the Emperor would not be so easily swayed. He needed more before he could move against the Dark Prince.
Well. If there was more to be had, he would have it. Now that he knew what he was looking for.
Xizor leaned over and kissed Leia. Lightly at first, a mere touch of his lips on hers.
Delicious. Amazing. She drank him in, enraptured by his touch.
He pressed harder.
Leia found herself responding to the kiss. Returning it …
She broke away. “No. This isn’t right,” she said. But she kept one hand on his shoulder. It was hard, powerful, that shoulder, warm under her fingers. No. This was wrong.
“I came … to talk about … Luke Skywalker!”
“In due course. We have more important things to do first.”
He leaned in and kissed her again. She felt the fire in him.
Leia put both her arms around Xizor, returned his fire with her own. Would this be so bad? To let him continue? To save Luke?
Xizor moved his mouth from hers and put his lips on her neck, slid down her shoulder. The dress’s strap fell off on that side.
Not just to save Luke. To enjoy this to the fullest, did she want to do that?
She did not. No.
But she did want it, at the same time.
His hands moved on her. Oh, yes …
28
Xizor pressed his lips against Leia’s bare shoulder and felt her shudder with pleasure. He had her now. She was his—if not in mind and spirit, then certainly her body belonged to him. He was a little disappointed in how easy it had been. Ah, well.
