Catalyst

by James Luceno

  “No kidding. It’s well maintained and it looks a lot better on the inside. The pilot is charming. He’s Dressellian.”

  The revelation didn’t exactly stop her in her tracks, but the combination of Dressellian and pilot did make her blink.

  Although it wasn’t until she spied him coming down the ramp that she understood why.

  “Welcome aboard, Lyra,” he said. “I don’t know if you remember me, but—”

  Lyra gaped openly. “Of course I remember you.”

  Nari’s fine brows knitted. “You two already know each other?” She thought for a moment. “I guess that makes sense—”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “Not what I think?” Now her brows went up. “Should I give you some privacy?”

  “No, you need to hear this,” Lyra said more strongly than she meant to. She turned back to the Dressellian. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

  “Has Obitt.”

  She nodded. “Obviously you still have a connection with Orson Krennic, Has.”

  “Actually I don’t—or at least I didn’t until a few weeks ago. I’ve been mostly on my own since…back when. Freelancing, you know. The commander contacted me to see if I was available to pilot you to Alpinn, and I said yes.”

  Lyra remained dubious. “Freelancing what, exactly?”

  “Merchandise. Supplies. Meiloorun fruit.”

  “Then you’re not a spy.”

  Nari was glancing back and forth between them. “Does one of you want to catch me up?”

  Lyra glanced at her. “Has was the pilot who flew Galen, Jyn, and me off Vallt during the war.”

  Nari nodded in comprehension. “Where you were arrested.”

  “Yes. But Has and Orson came to our rescue, isn’t that right?”

  Has nodded. “I was just the pilot, Lyra.”

  “And you’re still just a pilot.”

  “Commander Krennic doesn’t want to give the impression that the survey is an Imperial mission, or that it has anything to do with the Imperial military.”

  “Give the impression…I need to hear from you that it’s not an Imperial mission.”

  “It’s nothing of the sort,” Has said. “That’s why we’re using my ship and not traveling with an escort of stormtroopers. This way we can avoid being targeted by insurgents—of any stripe.” He looked at Jyn. “Your daughter has grown into a beautiful child.”

  Lyra relaxed somewhat. “Thank you, Has.”

  Has bent down to speak to Jyn. “You were just a baby when we met. I’m very glad to see you again.”

  Jyn made no effort to conceal her inspection on his nonhuman features, especially the deep groove in his cranium. “Do you want to see what’s in my backpack?”

  Lyra snorted. “Maybe I’ll feel better about this once all of us unpack.”

  KRENNIC DELAYED HIS RETURN TO Geonosis on the expectation that Galen would contact him. The dark circles under Galen’s eyes and the twitch in his left eyelid Krennic had observed during the recent dinner belied the scientist’s declarations about being as happy as he had ever been, more grateful than he could put into words. Then there was the quickness with which he had embraced the idea of sending Lyra and Jyn halfway across the galaxy on a treasure hunt. Even the brightest of dreams-come-true had shadowy recesses. The tensions that Krennic had sensed at the facility were far from settled. So when the comm came from Galen he was prepared, and had suggested that Galen come to Imperial Energy Division headquarters in the Central District so they could talk face-to-face.

  The Imperial Energy Division was new, but it, too, operated under the umbrella of Project Celestial Power. In fact, each separate department of the battle station project had its own cover name and cover agency, and Galen wasn’t alone in working for a counterfeit division and having his research put to alternative uses. Scattered across the galaxy were teams of scientists working on conventional weaponry, tractor beam and hyperdrive technology, even hull cladding systems. Each project was concealed behind names like Stellar Sphere, Mark Omega, and Pax Aurora. But all those paled in comparison with research on the superlaser.

  Krennic ushered Galen past bogus security personnel and employees and into his bogus office, which was adorned with holorepresentations of energy complexes and installations on dozens of worlds. Immediately they caught Galen’s eye, and he asked about them.

  “Facilities in various stages of planning and readiness,” Krennic told him, relieved to see that the bogus holos could pass muster with someone of Galen’s powers of discernment. “Have you heard from Lyra?”

  Galen nodded in an unfocussed way. “She and Jyn and Nari are still acclimating to Alpinn, but they’ve already begun to investigate the cave system.”

  “That’s good news. I knew they had settled into the archaeological camp, but I haven’t had a chance to read Lyra’s most recent report.” He looked hard at Galen. “You must be lonely without them.”

  “At any other time I know I would be. But right now, I’m so involved…I haven’t been much of a husband or father, in any case.”

  “I’m certain that Lyra understands the importance of your work. As long as everything’s all right between you two.”

  “More often than not.”

  “I sometimes get the impression she thinks I’m a bad influence on you.”

  Galen’s expression changed. “That’s not true. She just doesn’t understand our partnership.”

  Krennic laughed to ease the mood. “You know what I find interesting—or maybe ironic is the word. It’s that each of us wants what’s best for you. In a way, we’re competing to make you happy, as old-fashioned as that sounds. And each of us has a different idea about what you should be doing. Especially now that you two have a child, Lyra wants you to be settled on a course that will mean the most for the family—fulfilled in a somewhat conventional way—and I maintain that you’re meant for bigger things, and will continue to do whatever I can to bring opportunities to your attention.”

  Galen smiled thinly. “Don’t think I don’t appreciate it.”

  “Why shouldn’t I be your advocate? I’m not a rival, like some of your jealous or envious peers. What’s more, our relationship has profited both of us. Look where my supporting you has landed me! I’m like someone who discovered a wonderful artist and profits by being able to mingle with other exceptional talents.”

  Galen brushed aside the flattery. “I remember some of the conversations we had in the Futures Program. Trading ideas…Have you achieved what you set out to do?”

  Krennic rocked his head. “More or less.”

  “You’ve never wanted a family.”

  “Seriously, Galen, can you imagine me a father?”

  “You’d be quite the taskmaster, I’m sure. But serving the Republic and now the Empire has been enough for you?”

  Krennic paced away from Galen. “How does an individual know what he or she is meant to do? I remember those conversations as well. But we grow up with dreams that sometimes aren’t realized, so we explore different paths. If we’re lucky we find something we’re good at, and that gives us hope and purpose.” He turned back to Galen. “I wasn’t born brilliant or especially talented, but I’m capable and I’m driven, and that’s brought me to where I am. I stumbled onto something I’m good at, so I’m fulfilled in that sense. But I’m up against some serious challenges.”

  “Anything I can help with? Schematics? Architectural plans?”

  “At the moment, no. But I won’t hesitate to ask if and when the opportunity arises.”

  Galen nodded, then gestured to the false holorepresentations. “I find all this encouraging. But—”

  “Lyra’s not the only one with doubts about the project.”

  Galen compressed his lips. “I don’t want you to think I’m an ingrate—”

  “Nonsense,” Krennic cut in. “What’s bothering you?”

  “Reeva Demesne tried to contact me.”

  Krennic pretended sur
prise. “Reeva. How is she?”

  Galen frowned at him. “You should know, shouldn’t you? She’s doing research for Celestial Power.”

  “Yes, she is. But I’m not in close contact with everyone involved.”

  “During the war she was doing shield generator research,” Galen went on. “But before that she was always as interested in energy enrichment as I am.”

  “I’m not sure I see your point.”

  “If she’s back to exploring energy alternatives, why isn’t she working with me on Coruscant instead of doing whatever’s she’s doing on Hypori?”

  Krennic knew from the surveillance recordings that that particular cat was already out of the bag, but Galen’s mention of the isolated world set him on edge. “I can check into it. Why didn’t you raise these concerns weeks ago?”

  “I don’t want Lyra to know that I have any reservations about what we’re doing. She has issues enough about my working with kybers.”

  “That makes no sense. You’re a scientist.”

  “Lyra and I are equally fascinated with the physical world. But she sees the kyber as symbolic of the Jedi Order and the Force.”

  “And you?”

  “I don’t think the Jedi went far enough in their use of the crystals.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me.”

  “The Jedi were certainly aware of the tremendous potential, but they restrained themselves.”

  “Precisely what they did with the Force, as some have said. If they had made use of their full powers, the war would have ended in a heartbeat. And the galaxy would be in a different state entirely. For all their purported objectivity, they weren’t scientists, they were mystics. For a thousand generations that sufficed. Notions of right and wrong can no longer be dictated by a select group to safeguard some personal vision of the truth.”

  Galen offered a narrow-eyed nod. “One thing I’ll say in their favor is that they never made us fear them, when they certainly had the ability to.”

  “Perhaps they should have,” Krennic said, then added: “We can talk history and philosophy until our heads spin. You still haven’t told me what’s bothering you. Do you need a break from the research—a sabbatical?”

  “A sabbatical is the last thing I need,” Galen said with a suddenness that took Krennic by surprise. “I’m on the brink of a important discovery…But I need to know that my research is yielding results, Orson, that my work isn’t all theory without practical application. That it can be replicated. The power potential is nothing short of awesome, but the resultant energy needs to be properly harvested and stored.”

  Krennic lowered his eyes and his voice. “We were making headway.”

  “Were? If your teams haven’t been able to reproduce my results, then someone isn’t doing their job.”

  “Everyone has been giving their best effort.”

  “Then I don’t understand.”

  Krennic snorted and raised his head. “Are you in a position to leave the facility for a couple of days?”

  “I told you I don’t need a break.”

  “This won’t be a break. In fact, it bears directly on your concerns.”

  Galen searched Krennic’s face. “Is this going to be another instance of your showing me something I need to see, like you did at Grange?”

  “You’ll have to tell me.”

  —

  Alpinn shone bright like a gemstone in deep space. Its high reflectivity wasn’t due to ice and snow, but to mineral-rich seas that had dried up eons earlier, leaving behind sedimentary rock and crystallized elements that blanketed enormous areas of the principal landmass in dazzling white.

  Has had had to pilot his ship through several lengthy jumps to reach the remote world, but by the time they set down at the archaeological station, Lyra had managed to shelve her suspicions about the mission and the Dressellian’s part in it. She didn’t need Has or anyone else looking out for her or Jyn, but she couldn’t fault Krennic for being concerned for their safety. They were, after all, the wife and child of his chief researcher.

  Alpinn’s brilliance wasn’t the only feature that distinguished it. In the dim past a group of spacefarers had discovered the ruins of an ancient civilization—vast structures built of immense blocks, statues, temples, and obelisks, all smoothed over by wind and eroded by seasonal rain—and archaeological excavations had been going on for nearly a standard century. With funding from the Republic before the time of Palpatine’s chancellorship, a permanent camp had finally been established, consisting of prefab dwellings, wind turbines, a desalinization plant, and a small research center. The extensive ruins and the uniqueness of the terrain had prompted a team of scientists to petition for Alpinn to be declared a Legacy world, which would limit development, visitation, and the extraction of resources, but the entreaty was still pending Imperial approval. The archaeologists had accepted that the surveying and mapping Lyra and Nari were undertaking were integral to the mathematical resource estimation process, and in some ways that was true, as a find of kyber crystals would assure the planet’s protection from corporate interests and exploitation.

  Though glaring white—so white that humans and certain other species needed to wear protective goggles—the surface more resembled the bottom of a sea, and in most instances it took an expert to differentiate between artificial structures and what nature had created on its own: spires whipped by the winds into swirls that resembled sweet confections; hillsides embedded with fossilized sea organisms, corals, and shells; long-dry riverbeds and waterfalls that had recrystallized into marble; curving slides and deep gleaming basins. Close to the camp were a pair of sinkholes filled with the bluest water Lyra had ever beheld—as if lit from within—and in the crevasses of some hills grew a spindly vegetation that was as twisted and bleached as the spires themselves.

  For Jyn, the world was an enormous white playground.

  The mixed-species team of archaeologists were quick to make the new arrivals feel at home. Instantly adopted by everyone, Jyn—indefatigable as ever—reveled in being the center of attention, entertaining everyone with her antics, watching closely, learning. In his eagerness to be useful, Has became the camp’s assistant chef and helped prepare unusual but tasty meals from the limited stores, while Lyra and Nari—weighed down with packs, harnesses, and survival gear—made preliminary forays into the complex cave system in which kyber crystals might be hiding.

  The data on the alleged vein were very imprecise. Lyra wondered whether the crude maps had been discovered in the Jedi archives or, as Orson maintained, had originated with the original spacefarers and languished for centuries in a Republic database. Whatever the case, Lyra had calculated, with some dismay, that completing a pre-feasibility study of the bedrock cave system of stalagmites, stalactites, and water- and bio-eroded tunnels was going to require weeks of exploration, mapping, and analysis, and she could only hope that Galen was making do without her.

  She and Nari were exploring a wide, minor tunnel in the principal cave system when they chanced upon an enormous chamber whose curving walls and arched ceiling were coated with a bioluminescent lichen that imparted a yellow glow to the entire chamber. Has and Jyn had accompanied them and on entering the chamber all the four of them could do was marvel in wide-eyed delight.

  Has glanced at Lyra as she and Nari were sitting down, as if to drink in every square centimeter of the lambent place, Jyn off on her own, though never far from Has’s watchful gaze.

  “The Jedi would say that the Force is strong here,” Lyra said in a way that suggested to Has some sort of telepathic exchange with her friend.

  Nari nodded and turned to him. “Can you feel it, Has?”

  He took his eyes off Jyn to show her a perplexed expression. “What am I supposed to be looking for?”

  “You’re not looking for anything,” Lyra said with a gentle laugh. “You’re feeling.”

  He glanced around anyway. “I thought the Force disappeared with the Jedi.”

  Na
ri shook her head at him. “The Force could only disappear if all life in the galaxy perished.”

  Lyra was studying him. “Haven’t you ever visited a world where nature is so profuse, so prolific and exuberant that it yanks you out of your thoughts? Not a world like Coruscant, where you’re overwhelmed, but on some far-flung planet that sort of dazzles you into silence and reverence?”

  “You can’t help but sense the interconnectedness of all life,” Nari added.

  Has didn’t want them to think that he thought they were deranged, and he certainly didn’t want to think any harder about Samovar or Wadi Raffa, so he said: “I guess I’ve visited a few,” and left it at that.

  But Lyra wasn’t satisfied with the answer. “And you never felt anything—even a sense of transcendent mystery?”

  He shrugged. “I guess I was too busy working to notice.”

  “So the next time you find yourself on an unblemished world,” Nari said, “you should remember this moment and try to allow yourself to feel the Force.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Next time.” Seeing Lyra turn suddenly to monitor Jyn, who was tapping a stone with a small replica of one of the hammers her mother carried, he added: “Don’t worry, I’m watching her.”

  Hearing him, Jyn stopped her tapping and swung around. “Has is watching me.”

  “And don’t you forget it,” he said.

  Lyra showed him a look of sincere appreciation. “You’ve been great with her, Has.”

  “That’s because she’s a trouper,” he said loud enough for Jyn to hear. “In the best way, I mean.”

  The two women laughed. Then Lyra broke the ensuing silence to say: “I don’t want to pry, Has, but how did you first get involved with Orson?”

  Keep it simple, Has reminded himself. “He just makes use of me from time to time.”

  Lyra nodded. “He certainly has a talent for that.”

  “And you?” Has asked before Lyra could pose a follow-up question.

  “Galen and Orson are partners of a sort in an Imperial energy program.”

  “On Coruscant?”