Star Wars - The Courtship of Princess Leia

by Dave Wolverton

  "Dalla, you old thief," Han said with false enthusiasm. "I need your help. I'd like to take out a loan on the Millennium Falcon , and I want you to get me into a card game tonight. A big one."

  Captain Astarta, the prince's personal guard, woke Isolder in his room. She was a woman of rare beauty, with long, dark red hair and eyes as dark blue as the skies of her planet Terephon. "Flarett a rellaren?" ("Was dinner spiced well?") she asked almost casually. As Isolder lay in bed, he watched her eyes scan the room more thoroughly than normal, her scrutiny moving from dresser to bed to closets. Her movements were fluid, catlike.

  "Dinner was spiced well," Isolder answered. "I found the princess to be charming, good company. What is wrong?"

  "We picked up a coded message just an hour ago. It was beamed to all the ships in our fleet. We suspect it was an assassination order."

  "The signal came from Hapes?"

  "No. It was beamed up to our fleet from Coruscant."

  "Who was to be assassinated?"

  "The order did not name the target, or the time or place," Captain Astarta answered. "The complete message reads, 'The temptress seems too interested. Take action.' I know it's cryptic, but to me at least the meaning is clear."

  "Did you notify New Republic Security that Leia is in jeopardy?"

  Astarta hesitated. "I'm not convinced that Princess Leia is the target."

  Isolder did not say anything. If he died, the royal line would fall to his aunt Secciah's daughter. Someone had also killed Isolder's betrothed once before, Lady Elliar. They had found her drowned in a reflecting pool. Isolder could not prove his beliefs, but he was sure that his aunt Secciah was behind the killing, just as he was sure that his aunt had hired the pirates who had assassinated his older brother after sacking the royal flagship. The pirates would have known that the Chume'da was worth a great deal to his mother, yet they had killed the boy without seeking a ransom. Isolder asked, "So you think I am to be the target this time?"

  "I think so, my lord," Astarta answered. "Your aunt could blame it on the outsiderson factions within the New Republic, on some warlord who feared the marriage union, even on General Solo."

  Isolder sat up in bed, closed his eyes, thinking. His aunts and his motherall were vicious women, cunning and deceitful. He had hoped that by marrying outside the Hapes royal line he would find someone like Leia, someone untainted by the avarice that plagued the women of his family. It hurt him to think that someone had managed to plant assassins in his own fleet.

  "You will notify New Republic Security of the threat. If my aunt has managed to plant an assassin on this ship, perhaps they can help uncover her identity. Beyond that, you will assign half of my personal guard to protect Leia."

  "And who will protect you?" Astarta asked. Isolder could see the sense of betrayal in her eyes. She loved him, could not neglect him. He had always known that. It was what made her so good at her job. Perhaps Astarta even hoped a little that Leia would die. Yet Isolder knew that Captain Astarta would follow his orders. Above all, Astarta was an excellent soldier.

  He pulled a blaster from under the covers of his bed, saw the flicker of surprise in Astarta's eyes at having missed the presence of a gun pointed at her chest. "As always," Isolder said, "I will watch my own back."

  Chapter 5

  That evening Han found himself in a seamy dive in Coruscant's underworlda casino that literally had not seen sunlight in more than ninety thousand years because layer upon layer of buildings and streets had been constructed over it, until the casino became wedged like a fossil in its layer of sediment. The moist air down here smelled of decay, yet for many races in the galaxy, those bred for life beneath ground, the underworld provided a habitat that they could thrive in. Deep within the gloomy shadows of the casino, Han could make out many pairs of large eyes, furtively watching.

  Han had asked to get into a high-stakes card game and had worked his way up through three lesser games, but he had never been prepared for anything like this. To his left sat a Columi counselor in an antigrav harness, with a head so large that the blue, throbbing, wormlike veins around his cerebrum were far longer than his scrawny, useless legs. The Columi's vast intellect had made him one of the most feared gambling opponents in the galaxy. Across from Han sat Omogg, a Drackmarian warlord known for her incredible wealth. Her pale blue scales were polished to a high gloss, and green clouds of methane inside her helmet hid her vicious teeth and snout. To his left sat the ambassador from Gotal that Han had seen the day before, a gray-skinned, gray-bearded creature who played with his eyes closed, relying on the two huge sensory horns atop his head to probe the other players' emotions, hoping to read their minds.

  Han had never played sabacc among such company. In fact, Han had not played sabacc in years, and now sweat poured down his body, moistening his uniform. They played a variation on the game that hailed back millennia, a variation called Force sabacc. In normal sabacc, a randomizer built into the table periodically altered the values of cards, giving the game an intensity and excitement that had kept it alive for generations. But under the rules of Force sabacc, no randomizer was used. Instead, the randomness of the game was provided by the other players. After drawing the first card for a hand, each player had to call out if his or her hand would be light or dark. The player who played the strongest light or dark hand would win, but only if the combined strength of his or her chosen side won. For example, if Han chose to play a dark hand while all others played light, he would surely lose. Han stared at his cards, mixed cardsthe two of sabers, the Evil One, and the Idiot. Altogether, a weak hand in the dark suit, and he didn't think it would be good enough. Han had won the last several pots by playing cards from the light arcana. Perhaps it was just superstition, but he felt that it wasn't a good time to be switching to the dark suit. Still, Han could only take the cards he had been dealt.

  "I will call your bet," the Gotal whispered to Han, not opening his red-rimmed eyes, "and I'll raise you forty million credits."

  Behind Han, Chewbacca whined, and Threepio bent close and whispered in Han's ear, "May I remind you, sir, that the odds are sixty-five thousand five hundred and thirty-six to one against anyone winning eight hands in a row?"

  He didn't have to say it aloud, but Han finished for him And they are significantly less when the hand looks like this. "I'll call," Han said, pushing forward the deed to the mineral rights of a dead star system whose name only the Columi could pronounce. "And I'll raise you eighty million." He pushed over a stock chip that held a large percentage interest in the spice mines of Kessel. Han's nervousness must have overwhelmed the Gotal, for the ambassador suddenly shielded his left sensory horn with his hand.

  The others saw how the Gotal registered Han's sheer desperation and eagerly called the bet. "Would anyone like to call the game now?" Han asked. He hoped they would wait until another round had been dealt.

  "I'll call the game," the Gotal said. Each player laid his cards on the table. The Gotal was playing a dark suit, but for the moment his was weaker than Han's. The two others were playing light suits and could potentially beat Han. They waited for the dealer droid, which was bolted to the ceiling above the table, to give each of them a last card.

  Overhead, gears squeaked as the arms of the ancient dealer rotated to place one in front of the Columi. The Columi touched it. The heat from his body activated the microcircuits in the card so that it displayed its picture and Han's heart nearly stopped The commander of coins, the commander of flasks, and the queen of air and darkness. At twenty-two points it was nearly an unbeatable hand. Han only hoped that the combined strength of the dark hands might outweigh it.

  The dealer dealt the final card to the Drackmarian. A picture of a Jedi Knight blossomed under her touchModeration, upside down. The fact that Moderation had been dealt upside down reversed the Drackmarian's light hand, twisted it so that power was added to the dark hands of Han and the Gotal. Han's heart leaped. This could turn it, this could turn the whole game. But under the rule
s, the Drackmarian could choose to discard one card. She pushed the upside-down Moderation card away, keeping her light hand at only sixteen points.

  The mechanical arms shifted over to the Gotal, dropping a seven of staves onto his deck. It was a minor card, but it served to strengthen the dark hand. The Gotal held the queen of air and darkness, Balance, and Demise. He came in at negative nineteen points. Han felt a surge of elation, realizing that the dark hands would probably win. The Gotal must have sensed Han's elation and mistaken it to mean that Han believed he personally had won. The Gotal looked at Han's winnings jealously, then discarded his seven of staves. Since his dark hand now totaled below negative twenty-three points, the hand was declared a bust, meaning that the dark arcana would automatically loseunless Han could hit a natural twenty-three, either positive or negative.

  Han studied his cards again. The Idiot was worth nothing, the two of sabers was worth two points, while the Evil One was worth negative fifteen. Han's best chance to win would be an idiot's arrayhe could keep his Idiot card, plus the two of sabers, plus a three of any suitthus making a literal twenty-three. He figured the odds of getting a three were pretty badabout one in fifteen, but it was the only shot in town.

  The mechanical hands rotated over Han, squeaking suddenly loud. The metal hands pulled out the top card from the deck, set it on the table, and Han reached out hesitantly, touched it. The second Endurance card blossomed under his fingers. Negative eight points. Han looked at his cards in disbelief, discarded the two. At negative twenty-three, he had a natural sabacc.

  "You've won!" Threepio shouted, and the Gotal ambassador collapsed and began making small barking noises that Han guessed could only be sobs. The Columi regarded Han coldly from enormous black eyes.

  "Congratulations, General Solo," the Columi said in a clipped tone. "I regret that this game has become too expensive for my tastes." The engines on his antigrav unit fired, and he began to maneuver carefully from the room, taking care that his enlarged brain did not collide with any of the furnishings.

  The Gotal ambassador pushed himself from the table, lunged away into the shadows of the underworld.

  "You arrre verrry rrrich, hhoooman," the Drackmarian warlord hissed through the speakers of her helmet. She set two gigantic paws on the table, scraping her talons over the ancient black metal. "Toooo rrrich. Youuuu mmmay nottt mmake ittt outtt of the underrrworld alllive."

  "I'll take my chances," Han said, slapping his hand against the blaster holstered at his side and gazing into the warlord's helmet. He could make out dark eyes, gleaming like wet stones through the green clouds of gas. Han pulled all of the credit chips, stock certificates, and deeds into a single enormous pile. Over eight hundred million credits. More credits than he had ever dreamed of owning. Yet still not enough.

  The Drackmarian reached across the table, and her claws dug into his wrist. "Sssstop," she hissed. "Annnotherrr hhhannnd."

  Han considered, trying to appear calm. His mouth and tongue felt dry, but rather than lick his lips, he downed a mug of Corellian spiced ale. "Double or nothing?" he asked.

  The Drackmarian nodded, and the methane tubes leading to her helmet jiggled. Among the opponents that Han had been playing, she alone might possess what he wanted. A world. With so much money on the table, Omogg could offer nothing less than a habitable world.

  Omogg whispered to a security droid in the shadows at her back, and the droid swiveled guns toward Han, then popped open a vault in its belly. The Drackmarian pulled out a holo cube. "Thisss hasss been in fammmily forrr mmmany generrrationsss," the Drackmarian said. "It issss worth two poinnnt four billion creditssss. I will ssssell you onnne-third interesssst in it nnnow. If you winnn the next gammme, you will ownnnn the plannnnet. If I winnnn, I will ownnn both the plannnnet annnd the creditssss." She clawed a button on the cube, and the image of a planet appeared in the air. Class M, nitrogen and oxygen atmosphere. Three continents in a vast ocean. The holo began rotating through a series of shots of two-legged herd beasts squatting to graze on a wide purple plain, a bluish sun setting over a tropical jungle, a flight of dazzling birds sweeping over the ocean like colored glass spilling across a blue tile floor. Perfect.

  Han began sweating again. "What's it called?"

  "Daaathommmirrrrrr," the Drackmarian breathed.

  "Dathomir?" Han repeated, mesmerized. Chewbacca growled in warning, placed a restraining claw on Han's arm, begging him to be cautious.

  Threepio leaned close and his prissy vocalizers cut through the clouds of smoke. "May I remind you, sir, that the odds are one hundred thirty-one thousand and seventy-two to one against you taking nine hands in a row?"

  When Leia answered her door chimes at the Alderaanian consulate, she found Han there, bathed in sweat, his hair a mess, his clothes looking baggy. He reeked of smoke and he smiled at her enormously, his bloodshot eyes gleaming with joy. He had a small box in his hand, wrapped in gold-colored foil.

  "Look, Han, if you've come back to apologize, I forgive you, but I really don't have time for this now. I'm supposed to meet Prince Isolder in a few minutes and some Barabel spy wants to talk to me"

  "Open it," Han said, shoving the box into her hand. "Open it."

  "What is it?" Leia asked. She suddenly realized that the box wasn't just wrapped in gold-colored foil, it was wrapped in gold.

  "It's yours," Han said.

  Leia untied the strings, pulled the foil open. It was a registry chip, one of the old kind with a holo cube built in. She thumbed the switch, watched the planet materialize in the air before her, a scene from space showing the planet Thin pink clouds shone at the edge of the terminus, dividing night from day, and generous storm clouds swirled out from the ocean. In the background, four small moons hovered. She studied the continents, green with life, vast purple savannahs, exquisitely small ice caps at the poles. "Oh, Han," she said, her breath coming ragged with excitement. Her whole face seemed to be lit up, glowing. "What is its name?"

  "Dathomir."

  "Dathomir?" She frowned in concentration. "I've heard of it . . . somewhere. Where is it located?" She suddenly turned all business.

  "In the Drackmar system. I won it from warlord Omogg."

  She looked at the holo, watched it sequence into its first picture giant green herd beasts, possibly reptilian, grazing on a blue plain. "This can't be in the Drackmar system," Leia said with certainty. "It's only got one sun."

  She went to her console, locked into Coruscant's computer network, asking for the coordinates to Dathomir. It must have taken the huge computer banks some time to locate the files, for they waited nearly a minute before coordinates came up on screen. Leia looked into Han's face, saw his manic joy turn into a frown. "But, but that can't be!" Han said. "That's in the Quelii sectorwarlord Zsinj's territory!"

  Leia smiled regretfully, rubbed Han's hair as if he were a kid. "Oh, you sweet, shaggy nerf-herder. I knew it was too good to be true. Still, it was kind of you to offer. You know, you really are so kind to me!" She gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

  He stepped back in shock. "The . . . the Quelii sector?"

  "Go on home and get some sleep," Leia said, as if distracted. "You won't do yourself any good thinking about it. This ought to teach you never to play cards with a Drackmarian." She escorted him out the door of the Alderaanian consulate, and Han stood for a moment, rubbing his eyes, trying to keep awake and think at the same time. He looked up at the towering buildings above him, and the sunlight was thin, as if he were locked deep under a jungle canopy.

  He had imagined that Leia would love her new world, had imagined how she would collapse in his arms with joy. He'd planned to wait till that moment, then ask her to marry him. Yet now all he had won was a worthless piece of real estate, and Leia had tousled his hair as if he were a kid brother. I probably look pretty stupid right now, Han thought. Stupid and grungy. He jingled the money in his pocket, enough credit chips so he could get the Falcon out of hock. Fortunately, Chewbacca had had the foresight to p
ull that much out of the pot. Nearly two billion credits won and lost. Han was feeling too old to cryalmost. He stumbled back through the gray streets of Coruscant to a small apartment that he kept onplanet, just hoping for some sleep.

  "You really shouldn't go to this meeting," Isolder said. "I don't like the idea of you traveling alone in the underworld."

  Leia smiled tolerantly at the prince. He was, after all, interested only in protecting her, but after tripping over his bodyguards for the past two days, she was beginning to wonder if he weren't overly protective. "I'll be all right," she said. "I've handled his kind before."

  "If his information is so important," Isolder said, "then why hasn't he given it to you already? Why insist on this meeting?"

  "He's a Barabel. You know how paranoid predators get when they're convinced someone is hunting them. Besides, if he really does have information about attack dates and battle plans, I'll need that information before we go to the Roche system. The Verpines have got to be warned."

  Isolder studied her with his clear, profound gaze. He wore a yellow half cape, an enormous golden belt, and wide golden bracelets that accented the bronze color of his skin. He stepped forward, rested his hands lightly on her shoulders, and Leia's skin tingled at the contact. "If you insist on going into the underworld, then I am coming with you." Leia started to object, but he touched his finger to his lips. "Please, allow me this. I suspect you are right. I suspect that nothing will happen, but I could not live with myself if anything should happen to you."

  Leia studied his eyes, wanted to object, but there had been threats against her life. Isolder hinted that factions on Hapes would object to the union, and already she had heard reports through the New Republic spy networks that warlords on the far side of the galaxy were making efforts to sabotage the union. They didn't want the Hapan fleets adding their ships to the New Republic. Leia was already getting a taste of what it would be like to be the queen mother, wielding her might.