The Courtship Of Princess Leia Part 1

Star Wars.

The Courts.h.i.+p of Princess Leia.

by Dave Wolverton.

Chapter 1.

General Han Solo stood at the command console viewport of the Mon Calamari Star Cruiser Mon Remonda. Warning sounds tinkled like wind chimes as the s.h.i.+p prepared to drop out of hypers.p.a.ce at the New Republic's capital on Coruscant. It had been so long since Han had last seen Leia: five months, five months hunting the warlord Zsinj's Super Star Destroyer, Iron Fist. Five months ago, the New Republic had seemed so secure, so in control. Maybe now, with the Iron Fist gone, warlord Zsinj would be crippled and things would go smoother. Han longed to get off the humid Calamarian s.h.i.+p, longed even more for the taste of Leia's kisses, the caress of her hand on his brow. He'd seen too much darkness lately.

The white starfield on the screen resolved as the hyperdrive engines cut, and Chewbacca roared in alarm: across the blue velvet of s.p.a.ce where the city night lights of Coruscant blazed from a dark world were dozens of enormous, saucer-shaped stars.h.i.+ps that Han recognized immediately as Hapan Battle Dragons. Among them were dozens of slate gray Imperial Star Destroyers.

"Get us out of here!" Han shouted. He'd seen a Hapan Battle Dragon only once before, but it had been enough. "Full s.h.i.+elds! Evasive action!"

He watched the three dorsal ion guns of the nearest Dragon, expecting them to knock him from the sky. The blaster turrets on the saucer's rim all swiveled toward him.

The Mon Remonda twisted and dove planetward, toward the lights of Coruscant. Han's stomach wrenched. His Mon Calamari pilot was well schooled, and knowing that they could not run before setting a new course, he surged into the thick of the Hapan wars.h.i.+ps so that they could not fire without the risk of hitting one another.

Like all the technology on the Mon Calamari s.h.i.+p, the viewport was exceptional, a work of art, so that as they hurtled past the command port of a Hapan Battle Dragon, Han could make out the startled faces of three Hapan officers, the silver name tags sewn into their collars. Han had never seen a Hapan. Their star sector was renowned for its wealth, and the Hapans guarded their borders jealously. He'd known that they were human?for humans had scattered like weeds across the galaxy?but he was surprised to discover that without exception, all three of the female officers were astonis.h.i.+ngly beautiful?like fragile, living ornaments.

"Cease evasive action!" shouted Captain Onoma, a salmon-colored Calamarian officer who sat at a control console, monitoring sensors.

"What?" Han shouted, surprised that the lower-ranked Calamarian would reverse his orders.

"The Hapans are not firing, and they are broadcasting as friendlies,"

Onoma answered, swiveling a large golden eye at Han. The Calamarian cruiser ceased its crazy headlong dive and slowed.

"Friendlies?" Han asked. "They're Hapans! Hapans are never friendly!"

"Nevertheless, they've apparently come to negotiate a treaty of some sort with the New Republic. The accompanying Star Destroyers are theirs, captured from the Imperials. As you can see, our planetary defense forces are still intact." Captain Onoma nodded up toward a Star Destroyer in another quadrant, and Han recognized its markings. Leia's flags.h.i.+p, the Rebel Dream. It had seemed so huge, so vast when they'd captured it from the Imperials, but here beside this Hapan fleet, it looked small, insignificant. Huddled around the Rebel Dream, he saw a dozen smaller Republic Dreadnaughts, their hulls still painted with the markings of the old Rebel Alliance.

The first time Han had seen a Hapan wars.h.i.+p, he had been smuggling guns with a small convoy fleet under the command of Captain Rula. Since the Hapans hadn't yet fallen to the Empire, the smugglers had been using an outpost in neutral territory near the borders of the Hapan star cl.u.s.ter, hoping that their proximity to the Hapans would keep the Empire off their back. But one day they came out of hypers.p.a.ce and found a Hapan Battle Dragon hovering in their path. Even though they were in neutral territory, even though they made no aggressive moves, only three of the twenty smuggler s.h.i.+ps managed to survive the Hapan attack.

A communications officer said, "General Solo, we're receiving a call from Amba.s.sador Leia Organa."

"I'll go to my quarters and pick it up there," Han said, and he hurried to punch up the call. Leia's image appeared on the small screen.

Leia was smiling, euphoric, and her dark eyes had a dreamy look to them.

"Oh, Han," she said in a breath, her voice mellifluous. "I'm so glad you're here." She wore the pure white uniform of an Alderaanian amba.s.sador, and her hair was down. In the past months it had grown longer than Han had ever seen it. In her hair she wore the combs he had given her, made from silver and opal mined on Alderaan before Grand Moff Tarkin blasted the planet to cinders with the first Death Star.

"I missed you, too," Han said huskily.

"Come down to Coruscant, to the Grand Reception Hall," Leia said. "The Hapan amba.s.sadors are about to arrive."

"What do they want?"

"It's not what they want, it's what they're offering. I went to Hapes and spoke with the queen mother three months ago," Leia said. "I asked her for aid in our fight against Warlord Zsinj. She seemed very distant, noncommittal, but promised to think about it. I can only guess they've come to give that aid."

Lately, Han had begun to realize that the war against the remnants of the Empire might take years, even decades to win. Zsinj and some lesser warlords were firmly entrenched in over a third of the galaxy, but the warlords now seemed to be on the move?pillaging entire star systems as they swept toward the free worlds. The New Republic could not patrol such a vast front. Just as the old Empire had struggled to repel the Rebel Alliance, the New Republic battled the might of the warlords and their vast fleets. Han didn't want Leia to get her hopes raised for a Hapan alliance. He said, "Don't expect too much from the Hapans. I've never heard of them giving anyone anything?except a hard time."

"You don't even know them. Just come to the Grand Reception Hall," Leia said, suddenly all business. "Oh, and welcome back." She turned away. The transmission ended.

"Yeah," Han whispered. "I missed you, too."

Han and Chewbacca hurried through the streets toward the Grand Reception Hall on Coruscant. They were in an ancient part of Coruscant where the planetwide city had not built over the top of ruins, so that all around them plasteel buildings rose up like the walls of a canyon. The shadows thrown by the steep buildings were so deep that overhead the shuttles streaming through the s.p.a.ces between buildings were forced to keep their running lights on even in the daytime, creating a ma.s.sive tapestry of light. By the time Han and Chewie reached the Grand Reception Hall, the processional band was already playing an oddly mincing marching song, using janglers and deep woot horns.

The Grand Reception Hall was an enormous building, more than a thousand meters long, with fourteen levels for seating, but as Han neared the entrance, he found that all of the portals were jammed with curious onlookers, eager to see the Hapans. Han ran past the first five entrances, then suddenly saw a golden protocol droid nervously trying to jump or stand on tiptoe to see over the crowd. Many people claimed that all droids of a certain model looked alike, but Han recognized See-Threepio instantly?no other protocol unit ever managed to look quite as nervous or excited.

"Threepio, you hunk of tin!" Han shouted to be heard over the crowd.

Chewbacca roared in greeting.

"General Solo!" Threepio responded, a note of relief in his voice.

"Princess Leia asked that I find you and escort you to the Alderaanian amba.s.sador's balcony. I was afraid I'd missed you in the crowd! You're fortunate that I had the foresight to wait for you here. This way, sir, this way!" Threepio led them back across a broad street and up a side ramp, past several guards.

As they climbed a long winding corridor, pa.s.sing door after door, Chewbacca sniffed the air and growled. They rounded the corner and Threepio halted by a balcony entrance. Within, only a few people stood looking through the gla.s.s onto the procession below. Han recognized some of them: Carlist Rieekan, the Alderaanian general who had commanded Hoth base; Threkin Horm, president of the powerful Alderaanian Council, an immensely fat man who rested in a repulsor chair rather than try to carry his own weight. And Mon Mothma, commander of the New Republic, stood next to a bearded gray Gotal, who gazed dispa.s.sionately toward the main floor, head tilted, aiming his sensor horns in Leia's direction.

The diplomats were all speaking softly, listening to com-links and watching Leia, who sat on a dais, regally gazing on a Hapan diplomatic shuttle that had landed on a pad built within the great open-air hall.

Perhaps five hundred thousand beings had gathered on the main floors, eager to catch a glimpse of the Hapans. Tens of thousands of security guards had cleared the gold carpet between the shuttle and Leia, and Han looked up to the balconies. Nearly every star system in the old Empire had had its own balcony here, and beside each balcony was the nation's standard. Over six hundred thousand of those standards hung now on the ancient marble walls, showing the members.h.i.+p of the New Republic. Down on the floor, silence fell as the shuttle dropped its loading ramps.

Han went to Mon Mothma. "What's going on?" he asked. "Why aren't you down on the dais with Leia?"

"I was not invited to meet the Hapan amba.s.sadors," Mon Mothma replied.

"They asked only to see Leia. Since even the Old Republic had very limited contact with Hapan's monarchs over the past three thousand years, I felt it best to remain aloof until invited."

"That's very considerate," Han said, "but you are the elected leader of the New Republic?"

"And Queen Mother Ta'a Chume feels threatened by our democratic ways. No, I think it best that Ta'a Chume's amba.s.sadors speak through Leia, if she makes them feel more comfortable. Have you counted the number of Battle Dragons in the Hapan fleet? There are sixty-three?one for each inhabited planet in the Hapes cl.u.s.ter. Never have the Hapans initiated contact with us on such a grand scale. I suspect that this is to be the most important contact our peoples have made in the past three millennia."

Han would not say it, but he felt slighted at not being seated by Leia's side. The fact that Mon Mothma had been similarly treated added to the offense. They waited only a moment before the Hapans began to disembark.

First from the shuttle came a woman with long dark hair and onyx eyes that glittered in the lights. She wore a light dress of peach-colored s.h.i.+mmering material that left her long legs exposed. Microphones on the floor fed into the balcony, and Han could hear a sigh pa.s.s through the crowd as the beautiful woman made her way up the promenade.

She approached Leia and dropped gracefully to one knee, keeping her eyes on Leia. In a strong voice she spoke in Hapan, "Ellene sellibeth e Ta'a Chume. 'Shakal Leia, ereneseth a'apelle seranel Hapes. Rennith.e.l.le saroon.' " She turned and clapped her hands six times, and dozens of women in s.h.i.+mmering gold dresses began descending from the shuttle, running quickly and playing silver flutes or drums while others sang over and over in clear high voices, "Hapes, Hapes, Hapes."

Mon Mothma listened intently to her comlink as a translator broadcast the words in Basic, but Han couldn't hear the translator.

"Do you speak this stuff?" Han asked Threepio.

"I am fluent in over six million forms of communication, sir," Threepio said regretfully, "but I think I must be experiencing a malfunction. The Hapan amba.s.sador cannot have said what I heard." He turned and started to walk off. "Darn these rusty logic circuits! Excuse me while I report for repairs."

"Wait!" Han said. "Forget about the repairs. What did she say?"

"Sir, I think I must have misunderstood," Threepio said.

"Tell me!" Han added more forcefully and Chewbacca growled a warning.

"Well, if you're going to be that way about it!" Threepio affected a hurt tone. "If my sensors monitored her correctly, the delegate reported the words of the great queen mother: 'Worthy Leia, I offer gifts from the sixty-three worlds of Hapes. Take joy in them.'"

"Gifts?" Han said. "That sounds pretty straightforward to me."

"Indeed it is. The Hapans never ask a favor without offering a gift of equal value first," Threepio said condescendingly. "No, what troubles me is the use of the word shakal, 'worthy.' The queen mother would never apply that word to Leia, for the Hapans use it only when speaking to equals."

"Well," Han hazarded a guess, "they are both royalty."

"True," Threepio said, "but the Hapans practically wors.h.i.+p their queen mother. Indeed, one of their names for her is Ereneda, 'she who has no equal.' So you see, it would not be logical for the queen mother to refer to Leia as her equal."

Han looked back down to the unloading ramp and s.h.i.+vered as a sense of foreboding washed through him. The sounds of drums thundered. Three women in bright, almost garish silks rushed from the shuttle bearing a large container the color of mother-of-pearl. Threepio still spoke to himself, shaking his head and saying "I really must have these logic circuits repaired," as the three women spilled the contents onto the floor. The whole crowd gasped. "Rainbow gems from Gallinore!"

The gems glittered with their own fire in dozens of shades from brilliant cardinal to blazing emerald. Indeed, the invaluable gems were not gems at all, but a silicon-based life form that glowed with its own brilliant inner light. The creatures, often worn on medallions, matured only after thousands of years. One gem could buy a Calamarian cruiser, yet the Hapans had thrown hundreds of mated pairs to the floor. Leia showed no surprise.

A second trio of women, far taller than the others, descended from the diplomatic shuttle wearing leathers in colors of tawny ocher and cinnamon. They danced lightly to the sounds of the flutes and drums, and between them floated a platform that bore a small, gnarled tree with ruddy brown fruits. Twin lights floated above it, beaming steadily like the suns of some desert world. The crowd murmured quietly until the amba.s.sador explained, "Selabah, terrefel n lasarla." ("From Selab, a tree of wisdom, bearing fruits.") The crowd suddenly shouted and cheered in delight, and Han stood dumbfounded. He had thought the wisdom trees of Selab to be only a legend. It was said that the fruit of the wisdom trees could greatly boost the intelligence of those who had pa.s.sed into old age.

Han's blood pounded in his veins, and he felt lightheaded. A man came forward to the sound of the music, a cyborg warrior dressed in full Hapan body armor, black with silver trim. He stood nearly as tall as Chewbacca, and strode purposely, pulled some sort of mechanical device from his arm, and laid it on the ground before Leia. "Charubah endara, mella n sesseltar." ("From the high-tech world Charubah, we offer a Gun of Command.") Han leaned against the gla.s.s for support. The Gun of Command had made the Hapan troops nearly irresistible in small-arms combat, for it released an electromagnetic wave field that virtually neutralized an enemy's voluntary thought processes. Those shot with the Gun of Command stood helpless as invalids, unaware of their surroundings, and tended to follow any orders given them, for they could not distinguish the command of an enemy from their own voluntary thoughts. Han began sweating. Their every world, each planet in the Hapes system, is offering its greatest treasures, Han realized. What could they hope to gain? What could they want in return?

He watched over the next hour. The music of the drums and flutes and the high, clear calls of the women singing "Hapes, Hapes, Hapes," over and over again seemed to pound through his veins, through his temples. Twelve of the poorer worlds each gave Leia Star Destroyers captured from the Empire, while others brought things that held more esoteric value. From Arabanth came an old woman who spoke only a few words on the importance of embracing life while accepting death, offering a "thought puzzle" that her people held to be of great value. Ut sent a woman who sang a song so beautiful that the sound seemed to carry Han away to her world on a warm breeze.

At one point, Han heard Mon Mothma whisper, "I knew Leia had asked for money to help fight the warlords, but I never imagined . . ."

And finally, the singers stopped singing and the drums stopped beating and a portion of the wealth of the hidden worlds of Hapes lay scattered on the floor of the Grand Reception Hall. Han found that his breathing came ragged from his lungs, for he kept unconsciously holding his breath as the gifts were offered.

The silence on the floor of the hall seemed heavy, ominous. More than two hundred amba.s.sadors from the worlds of Hapes stood on the promenade, and Han marveled at them, for once again he was impressed by their grace, by their beauty, by their strength. Until today, he had never seen a Hapan.

Now he would never forget them.

No one spoke as the Hapans held their silence. Han waited to hear what they would ask in return. His blood thrilled, for he realized they could only want one thing: a pact with the Republic. The Hapans would ask the Republic to join an all-out war against the combined might of warlords who served as the last remnants of the Empire.

Leia leaned forward from her throne, looked over the gifts approvingly.

"You said that you had gifts from all sixty-three of your worlds," Leia told the amba.s.sador, "but I see here gifts from only sixty-two. You have offered me nothing from Hapes itself."

Han was shocked by the remark. He had lost count of the gifts long ago, stunned by the wealth the Hapans offered, and now Leia's comments seemed churlish, greedy. He expected the Hapans to scoff at her bad manners, take everything, and leave.

Instead, the Hapan amba.s.sador smiled warmly, as if pleased that Leia had noticed, and looked up and held Leia's eyes. She spoke, and Threepio translated, "That is because we have saved our greatest gift for last."

She motioned with her hand, and all the Hapan amba.s.sadors stepped aside, clearing the aisle. Without fanfare, without the music of horns, only in silence did they bring their last gift.

Two women, modestly dressed in black with silver ringlets in their dark hair, came from the s.h.i.+p. A man walked between them. He wore a silver circlet that held a black veil in front of his face, and his long, blond hair fell down around his shoulders. The man was bare-chested except for a small silk half-cloak fastened with silver clasps, and in his muscular arms he carried a large, ornate box of ebony inlaid with silver.

He brought the box and set it on the floor. He sat on his haunches, hands resting lightly on his knees, and the women pulled back his black veil.

Beneath it was the most incredibly handsome man that Han had ever seen.

His deep-set eyes were a dark blue-gray, like the color of the sea on the horizon, and promised wit, humor, wisdom; his powerful shoulders and firm jawline were strong. Han realized that this must be some high dignitary from the royal house of Hapes itself. The amba.s.sador spoke, "Hapesah, rurahsen Ta'a Chume, elesa Isolder Chume'da." ("From Hapes, the queen mother offers her greatest treasure, her son Isolder, the Chume'da, whose wife shall reign as queen.") Chewbacca growled and in the crowd below everyone seemed to talk at once, an uproar that swelled in Han's ears like the sound of a storm.

Mon Mothma pulled off her headset and gazed at Leia thoughtfully, one of the generals in the room swore and grinned, and Han stepped away from the window. "What?" Han asked. "What does that mean?"

"Ta'a Chume wants Leia to marry her son," Mon Mothma answered softly.

"But, she won't do it, will she?" Han said, and then his certainty faltered. Sixty-three of the wealthiest planets in the galaxy. To rule as matriarch over billions of people, with that man beside her. . . .

Mon Mothma looked up into Han's eyes, as if gauging him. "With the wealth of Hapes to help fund the war, Leia could overthrow the last remnants of the Empire quickly, saving billions of lives in the process. I know how you have felt about her in the past, General Solo. Still, I think I speak for everyone in the New Republic when I say that, for all our sakes, I hope she accepts the offer."

Chapter 2.

Luke could sense the ruins of the ancient Jedi Master's home before his Whiphid guide brought him to the place. Like the landscape of Toola itself?a barren plain where the short purple lichens thrust up from patches of thin winter ice?the ruins felt clean and refres.h.i.+ng, yet empty, almost as if they had never been visited by humans. The clean feeling a.s.sured Luke that the ruins had once been inhabited by a good Jedi.

The huge Whiphid, its ivory fur ruffling under the spring winds, trudged over the purple moss, a vibro-ax fitted in its paw. It stopped and raised its long snout in the air so that its ma.s.sive tusks pointed up at a distant purple sun, then gave a trumpeting whistle, glaring ahead with small black eyes.

Luke pulled back the hood of his snowsuit and glimpsed the danger on the horizon. A flock of snow demons was dropping from the shelter of storm clouds, hairy wings flas.h.i.+ng gray in the slanting sunlight. The Whiphid whistled a battle cry, afraid they would attack, but Luke reached out with his mind and felt the snow demons' hunger. They were hunting a herd of s.h.a.ggy motmots that moved like icy hills on the horizon, seeking a calf small enough to slaughter.

"Peace," Luke said, reaching up to touch the Whiphid's elbow. "Show me the ruins." Luke tried to use the Force to calm the warrior. But the Whiphid quivered, clenching its vibro-ax, eager for battle.

The Whiphid whistled a long reply, pointing north, and Luke translated by power of the Force: "Search the Jedi's tomb if you must, little one, but I go to hunt. Having sighted an enemy, honor demands that I attack. My clan will feast on a snow demon tonight." The Whiphid wore a weapon belt as its only article of clothing, and from the array hanging there, it pulled free a blackened iron morning star. With a weapon in each huge fist, it charged over the tundra faster than Luke would have believed possible.

Luke shook his head, pitying the snow demons. Artoo whistled from behind, asking Luke to slow his pace as the little droid negotiated a treacherous patch of ice. Together, Luke and Artoo traveled north until they reached three huge flat rocks that rose from the ground to form the roof and sides of a tunnel. The tunnel smelled dry, and Luke pulled a minilantern from his utility belt and made his way down. A short distance from the surface, the tunnel had been caved in. A huge boulder blocked the path.

Black soot on the boulder showed where a thermal detonator had blown the stone free in ages past, closing off whatever lay beyond.

Luke closed his eyes and reached out with his mind until the Force channeled through him. He s.h.i.+fted the rock, lifted it free, and held it.

"Go ahead, Artoo," Luke whispered, and the droid rolled forward, whistling in dismay as it pa.s.sed beneath the floating rock. Luke ducked under the hovering boulder, then let it settle behind him.

On the dirt floor immediately behind the rock, Luke found the boot prints of Imperial stormtroopers, still preserved after all these years. Luke studied the prints, wondering if any would have belonged to his father.

Darth Vader probably would have had to come. Only he could have killed the Jedi Master who had lived in these caverns. But the footprints told him nothing.

The tunnels wound down through storage rooms carved deep beneath the ground. The air carried the stale scent of rodent dung and fur. A small, square power droid lay dead in one hallway, long since drained of energy.

A thermal heater filled another room, its power cables chewed away by small animals. Luke followed the tunnels toward the clean feeling of the Jedi, and finally found the dead Master's room. The body was gone, dissipated as Yoda's and Ben's had, but Luke could feel the residue of the Master's force, and he discovered a snowsuit, slashed and burned, with a lightsaber nearby. Luke picked up the lightsaber, flipped it on. A stream of opalescent energy shot out as the lightsaber hummed to life.

Luke wondered momentarily about the man who had owned the lightsaber, then flipped it off. He knew little except that the Jedi Master had served the Old Republic in its final hours. For months now, Luke had followed the man's trail. As curator of records for the Jedi at Coruscant, the man had seemed only a minor functionary, hardly worthy of notice by the invading Imperials. Yet he had fled Coruscant with the records of a thousand generations of Jedi.