Chapter
Nineteen
Leia clung to
Darth
Vader's hand as if it were her only link to reality.
She could feel
tears coursing down her
face. She felt flame sting at her, swirling around her body like a
burning
desert wind filled with sand. And she felt Palpatine's fingers,
stroking across
her mind.
As she clutched
Vader's hand, she fought
with herself to stay focused on Palpatine's eyes.
She knew, if
she lost that focus, she would
fall into the precipice he was tearing open in her soul.
His yellow eyes
held the light of the
exploding Alderaan. She saw herself, frail and tiny and useless, her
gaze
riveted in horror on the rubble hurtling through space. The sparks and
gleaming
dust that were all that was left of her father. Her mother. Everyone.
And she saw the
dark shape of Darth Vader.
Watching as her life was stolen from her. And doing nothing.
The yellow of
Palpatine's eyes was the
murky glow of the carbon-freeze chamber on Cloud City. Through the
sallow haze
she saw Han's face, for one last time. As he vanished she saw his look
of shock
and pain.
I can't, she thought.
I
can't keep losing everyone.
I
can't keep living and watching
everyone die.
She wanted to
squeeze her eyes shut and see
nothing else, ever again.
But he was there, and
she saw him. Vader. Stealing Han from
her not even because of anything she or Han had done, but as one more
link in
the chain that would bind Luke Skywalker. Vader, stealing, one by one,
every
person she cared about. And never caring about her.
The edge of the
carbon chamber was right at
her feet. It would take no effort at all just to throw herself in.
If she froze in
there, with Han, would she
leave her pain behind?
Vader's fingers
tightened around her hand.
Through the
pain, she felt a tremor of
hate.
She gasped.
Physical pain smashed in at
her, jolting her into the present. The searing throb of her severed
wrist.
Periodic bursts of crawling heat that wrapped around her every nerve,
in the
moments when the Emperor's attacks broke through the green wall of Leia
and
Vader's defences.
She held fast
to her father's hand, and
stared at Palpatine's yellow eyes. Slowly, she began to see other faces.
Arin Pellar,
trapped forever in her memory
in the pool of his blood.
Moff Nevoy, and
the emptiness that screamed
from within him whenever he thought of his son.
The pilots who
flew against the first Death
Star, brash and hopeful and stupidly young, listening to the briefing
just
moments before they climbed into their x-wings to die.
Images flashed
through her mind of men who
she did not recognise. Until she noticed the Imperial uniforms they
wore, and
she knew. Knew that they were images from her father's mind. She was
seeing the
faces of hundreds of men who had fought for the Empire, and died.
He has
to die.
She did not
know if that was her thought or
Vader's. But it made no difference.
Palpatine
has to die.
She heard
voices in her mind. Her own, and
Vader's. And countless more. Bail Organa's. Keeiara's. Friends' voices
that she
had not heard since the beginning of the attack on Hoth. Voices from
farther
back still, that she'd barely even remembered that she knew. Fellow
Senators
from Alderaan. The nobles' and politicians' children that she'd grown
up with.
The Chief Librarian of Prince Bail's palace library.
Her mother,
Admiral Talassa, in that brief
snatch of memory, the only relic of her that Leia had.
Something hit
her, with the searing heat of
Palpatine's wall of flame. She stumbled back, only Darth Vader's grip
on her
hand keeping her from falling.
Palpatine's
yellow eyes seemed to grow,
until she thought they would swallow her.
Then she saw
something else.
Another room
appeared before her. Dark
metal walls gleamed as if they'd just been polished, and a large arched
window
showed a starscape beyond. She could hear the muted rumblings of a
starship.
A thin,
grey-haired man with a crewcut and
a trim beard was standing by the window, dressed in a long
beige-coloured robe.
He had a lightsaber fastened to his belt. And he was furious. She could
feel
him closing off his anger, trying to shut it away behind mental
blast-doors.
Two other men
stood in the room. One of
them, brown-haired with a similar beard and robe, she recognised as Obi
Wan
Kenobi. He looked embarrassed and worried.
The third man
stood a head taller than the
other two. He wore a grey military uniform, and both his posture and
his aura
radiated angry resentment. Leia saw Anakin Skywalker clasp his hands
together
behind his back, and she knew that at this moment he longed to be using
those
hands to choke someone.
"You do
understand what you've done,
Commander?" the grey-haired man inquired.
"I understand
it, General,"
Anakin replied. "I fail to see that it causes any difficulty."
"You fail -- "
After a moment's
pause the older man gained control of himself and turned to the now
furiously
blushing Obi Wan. "Colonel Kenobi," he said, "your
protégé is in
need of ethics training."
"Yes, Master,"
said Kenobi,
keeping his voice calm. "He knows that. We've talked about it, and
talked
about this. He knows that what he did was wrong -- "
"I'm sorry,"
Anakin cut in
sharply, "I don't know that. With respect, General, we're at war; we
need
every pilot we have. That enemy pilot had Halleck in his sights. I saw
a chance
to save him. I do not see that the Republic would be better off if I'd
left
Lieutenant Halleck to die." At the other two men's outraged
expressions,
he added, "if I had shot that man down, no one would be concerned. And
the
result would be precisely the same."
"The result is
not the same,"
whispered the grey-haired general. "Not for you, nor for us."
Leia looked
into Anakin's blue eyes. And
she saw, and felt, what he had done.
She saw him in
a one-man fighter, catching
a glimpse of another fighter with a third ship on its tail. She saw
flame spit
from the pursuing ship's guns, and felt the knowledge hit Anakin that
he was in
no position to take a shot at that third ship. By the time he got into
position, his comrade's fighter would have been blown out of the sky.
In an instant
she felt Anakin calm his
thoughts, and fling them into the enemy ship. Into the ship and into
the body
of its pilot. She felt him reach into the man's chest, tentatively at
first as
he searched for some vital organ. She felt it as he found the pilot's
heart,
and mentally closed his hand around it. And squeezed.
The voice of
the Jedi General broke in. "You
do not understand. The Force is not to be misused in this manner. It
will only
twist the user, and weaken all of us. Such unfair techniques are -- "
Anakin
interrupted, "we use the Force
when we fight with lightsabers. Is that any more fair?"
We
don't have time for this, Leia thought.
She whispered, "Anakin."
The vision of
Anakin Skywalker seemed to
look at her. Kenobi and the other Jedi vanished in the background.
"Can we kill
Palpatine that way?"
Leia asked. "How? He's got defences against us. That pilot didn't."
"His mind has
defences," said
Anakin, or Vader. "Strike at his body, he won't be expecting that. If
we
finish his body, his mind won't be able to fight back."
She smiled at
him, and Anakin smiled back
at her. "Let's split up," Anakin suggested. "Which do you want,
his brain or his heart?"
Leia whispered,
"his brain."
"You're
weakening, my friends,"
came Palpatine's voice. "Your hatred will not be enough to save you.
Your
strength cannot endure against mine."
Just
let him keep thinking that, thought Leia.
She projected feelings of
surprise and growing fear, hoping that the emotions would keep
Palpatine
distracted until it was too late.
The Emperor's
attack felt like blaster
bolts searing through her, through every part of her body at once. But
she
still felt Darth Vader's hand around hers. It gave her a sensation of
strength
and security that she had not felt since Alderaan was destroyed.
Focusing as
much conscious thought as she
could on her feelings of fear and pain, she let one small portion of
her mind
reach into Palpatine's skull.
She felt her
fingers digging through dry,
parchment-like skin, into bone. Bone that crumbled and powdered in her
grip.
Partway through, she seemed to meet greater resistance, a layer of bone
that
held up against her clawing hand. But she dug harder. With a weird,
popping
sensation she felt the bone give way, and her fingers pressed into
warm, wet
tissue like a slimy sponge.
Visions,
painfully real, flashed into her
mind. Events that she knew had not happened -- but that might happen.
Or might
be happening now. Han and Chewbacca, in a courtyard filled with rubble,
uselessly firing their blasters at a vessel that swooped at them out of
the
evening sky. A spurt of flame from the ship tore into Chewie, mowing
him down.
She didn't hear anything, but she saw Han yell, as he threw himself to
his
knees. He was shaking the motionless Chewbacca, still yelling
something, when
the ship lunged down for another pass. And fired.
Her mind
shuddered from the vision of Han
slumping down on his friend's body, a smouldering hole in his chest.
But the
visions were not over. The lavender evening light vanished into the
brightness
of a palace corridor, and the light shone mercilessly on a pale,
unmoving face.
The face of her brother, lying on the floor and staring up into
nothing. She
saw two men kneeling beside him, and recognised General Mulcahy and
Moff Nevoy.
Nevoy grabbed at Luke's collar and shook him, desperate denial in the
Moff's
eyes. He swallowed and looked over at Mulcahy, who shook his head.
Her fingers
were sinking into soft matter,
clawing through warm mush. She almost laughed from the pleasure of
digging
through that flesh, feeling it tear apart in her hand, knowing that
this time, this
time he would not win.
Around her, the
palace seemed to shake. She
felt the floor tremble beneath her, and the walls buckled and nearly
fell. She
heard a distant rumbling, breaking through the horrible silence of her
visions.
She felt a hand
driving into her gut,
closing around the tiny beings of her children inside her.
Leia screamed
in fury. In her mind, she
slashed her hand through the flesh it was buried in, shredding it with
her
nails. She felt liquid spurt out. Slime squirted between her fingers
and she
clawed through it, again, and again.
She heard her
scream joined by her father's
wordless yell of rage. And another sound, a hideous shriek that seemed
it would
never end.
An attack
stronger than any before smashed
at her, throwing her to the floor. Her focus remained, as she dragged
her hand
through the pulpy flesh, then closed around it and squeezed.
She felt the
room around her jolt again.
Then suddenly there was silence.
"Leia." The
voice seemed
impossibly distant, but it swam closer as she felt a hand clutching her
shoulder. "Leia, please."
She blinked,
and found herself staring into
the dark mask of her father.
Leia reached
out her hand to him, accepting
Vader's help as she staggered to her feet. "Is it -- " gasped Leia, "is
he -- "
"Yes," came
Darth Vader's strong,
dark voice. "It's over."
She clutched at
his arm. Weariness and pain
crashed into her, but she did not care.
She stared at
the shape on the floor.
His hood had
fallen back, and his face
looked pathetically withered. The yellow eyes had lost all of their
light. His
mouth gaped open, and as she looked, she saw a trickle of blood seep
out of one
ear.
Above his
heart, the dark fabric of his
robe was mangled. Gaping rents were torn in it as though by the claws
of some
gigantic beast. The cloth was too dark for her to see the colour, but
she saw
liquid oozing into the robe, spreading as the fabric it touched could
absorb no
more.
She threw
herself at Vader's chest, sobbing
as she felt the cold solidity of his armour pressed against her face.
With her
one hand she hugged him to her, as she gasped out, "Father, oh thank
gods –
thank gods -- "
"Oh gods, Leia,
your hand," he
murmured. "I'm so sorry."
"It doesn't
matter." She gave a
brief laugh that sounded, to her ears, only slightly hysterical. "I can
always get another."
"It's my
fault," he said, his
voice taking on a vicious edge. "He would never have thought of it if
it
weren't for my fucking
bad luck hand."
She pulled away
slightly and looked up at
him. A smile trembled at her mouth. "How many times have you lost your
hand?" she asked.
He paused, and
when he spoke again there
was an answering smile in his voice. "Only three. Once to Luke, once to
Obi Wan, and once in a crash."
"Three," she
echoed. "Well,
there you go. I've still got lots of catching up to do."
She heard and
felt a vibrating hum from the
doors of the Great Hall, the unmistakable sound of blasters cutting
through
metal. "We've got company coming," she told her father.
He nodded, his
head angled as though he
were listening. "I do not believe they are enemies," he said.
"Hopefully
they will have extra blasters, since we seem to have destroyed both our
lightsabers."
There was a
loud cracking sound and a
shower of sparks, and the huge doors slid open.
A confused
jumble of men burst into the
Great Hall, blasters at the ready. Leia saw a mixture of green and
black
uniforms, and several faces that she recognised. Moff Nevoy. General
Mulcahy.
And Luke.
Leia yelled his
name and ran to him. While
she was hugging her startled brother, a corner of her mind picked up on
the
gasps, oaths and exclamations that sounded around them.
"My Gods. Oh,
my Gods …"
"The Emperor
…?"
"Shit."
"Is that really
him?"
"Well thank the
Firelord, it's about
Godsdamned time …"
"Luke," Leia
whispered, still
holding him close. "I'm so glad – "
She felt his
answering emotions. Relief at
seeing her and Vader alive, mixed with a terrible, jarring emptiness.
He wanted
to hold onto her, and at the same time he didn't want her to touch him.
Luke stepped
back, and caught sight of her
mangled wrist. He burst out, "my gods, Leia, what happened?"
She managed a
smile, though it felt a
little shaky. "Just keeping up family tradition."
Then Darth
Vader was beside them. He
enveloped his son in a hug that nearly lifted the younger man off the
floor.
Just as swiftly the embrace was broken, but Vader still kept a grip on
Luke's
shoulder. He said, "Luke, we've destroyed your lightsaber. Mine as
well. I'm
sorry, it was not our intention -- "
Something that
wasn't quite a smile touched
Luke's face, and his gaze shied away from his family. "That's all
right,"
he said. "I've got no use for it anyway."
Leia felt
Vader's puzzled – and
slightly annoyed – concern. Any question he might have asked
was
forestalled by a blond-haired Imperial with a medipack slung over his
shoulder,
who stepped up to the three of them and asked, "My Lord, do you require
any assistance?"
"No," said
Vader, "but I'd
be obliged if you would tend to the princess." As Leia reluctantly held
out her stump of a wrist for the blond man's inspection, Vader
continued, "Luke,
Leia, I'd like you to meet Dr. Hayashida, my personal physician."
Hayashida
nodded distractedly to them, his
attention focused on Leia's wrist. While he reached into his pack and
then
sprayed a cooling sealant gel onto the wound, Leia fought against her
impulse
to ask him to check on her babies. Presumably he had at least basic
obstetric
monitors in that pack, he might be able to tell her if her children had
survived the godsawful disturbances in the Force that they'd just been
subjected to. But, she told herself, she had more immediate concerns to
deal
with. Such as making sure that her father, her brother and their
supporters got
out of this Palace alive.
Dr. Hayashida
was saying, "the seal
should last until you get a replacement installed. We can take care of
that in
the Conquest's medbay."
He smiled suddenly. "Not to imply anything. I'm sure the Rebellion's
medics can handle it if you'd rather wait."
"The Conquest will be fine."
If we ever get to
the Conquest, she added
silently. Can we please do something, and stop talking?
Something was
happening, anyway. At the
edge of her vision she saw the men around the Emperor's corpse,
standing or
kneeling awkwardly with various expressions of loathing, amazement and
distaste. She saw General Mulcahy, crouched beside the Emperor and
glancing up
at Nevoy, who stood nearby. Nevoy spoke into his wrist com-link, said
something
to Mulcahy and the others around them, then walked hurriedly toward
Vader and
his companions. As he approached, Leia could feel his tension and
frustrated
anger. She had the sensation that he was wishing the whole planet would
just
blow up, so he'd be spared from having to deal with all of this.
"My Lord,"
Nevoy said, "we've
got a situation. There's major structural damage around Landing Bay
Four. I don't
think it was caused by weapons fire, apparently the building seemed to
fall
apart on its own. Sounds like it was those tremors we felt, the same
time as
that forcefield on the door here started weakening."
"Palpatine,"
Vader said grimly. "He
knew he was dying and wanted to cause as much destruction as possible."
Nevoy nodded.
"He must have seen where
our escape vessels were concentrated. Most of the ships aren't badly
damaged,
but we've got at least forty men trapped in the building. Captain Raby
reports
he's afraid to use the Conquest's guns to get
them out, the rubble's too unstable. They're trying to
dig through from both sides. And we've got reports that there may be
enemy
troops headed for our men's position in the building."
Leia sensed
another "and" at the
end of Nevoy's statement. Vader must have sensed it too, for he asked,
"and
our other troops?"
"The main body
of the Palace Guards
were in combat at Imperial Guard headquarters. They're trying to
withdraw to
Troop Transport Bay One, but a force of Imperial Guards and
stormtroopers is
blocking their retreat. Our men in the Transport Bay don't have the
numbers to
assist them."
Vader gave a
brief nod. "Divide our
forces. I'll lead half to relieve the Palace Guards, you and General
Mulcahy
take the others to Landing Bay Four. Have you the co-ordinates of the
Guards'
location É?"
Vader and Nevoy
started toward the group
around the Emperor. Leia tuned out the rest of their conference, and
the loudly
stated orders that followed. More fighting was coming, and she saw
again in her
mind the image that Palpatine had given her, of Luke lying dead while
Nevoy and
Mulcahy knelt beside him. She turned to her brother, gazing at his
familiar,
resentment-filled face. "Luke," she said softly. "How are you
doing?"
He frowned.
"I'm fine. I'm not the one
who just had my hand cut off."
"Come with
Vader and me. We could use
your help -- "
Luke shook his
head. "I'll go with
Nevoy and the General."
His statement
sent dread racing through
her, though she tried to tell herself that the vision Palpatine had
sent didn't
have to be true. Indeed, it was far more likely to be false. And what
was it
that Luke had told her in the old days, that the future was always in
motion,
that visions didn't always mean what they seemed É
Nevoy, Mulcahy
and Vader walked over to
them again. Leia thought how incongruous it looked to see Vader with a
blaster
in his hand. He had another fastened to his belt.
With a smile, a
bow and a flourish, General
Mulcahy presented two blasters to Leia. He held the second of them
while she
checked their power cells of the first and attached it to her belt. As
she
accepted the second blaster, she was still trying to think of something
to say
that would convince Luke.
Then a question
from Vader drove every
thought from her mind.
"Any news of
General Solo and the
Wookiee?"
Nevoy nodded,
oblivious to Leia's startled
gasp. "Lieutenant Iddims reported that they're with his party, with the
group attempting to reach the troop transports -- "
Leia
interrupted with the cry, "Han?
He's here?"
In the midst of
her shock, she felt Vader's
surprise at the question. "Yes. We came here together. He and Chewbacca
must have been captured at the same time I was. I'd assumed you knew."
Her gaze fixed
on Palpatine's corpse as she
whispered fiercely, "he didn't tell me." Gods, she wished that she
could kill him again. But she shouldn't have had to wait till someone
told her.
She felt a stab of guilt. Had she been so damned busy, playing mind
games with
Palpatine and learning to murder with the Force, she hadn't even sensed
that
Han was in the same building?
"I didn't sense
him," she
murmured. "I should have -- "
Vader shook his
head. "It doesn't
always work like that."
Luke added from
her other side "it's
probably a good sign that you haven't. At least it means he hasn't
called for
help."
She thought, but
it doesn't have to mean
that. It could mean
that he called and I just didn't hear him.
"Luke's right,"
said Vader. "And
it wouldn't be in Palpatine's interest to hurt them. He'd want them
kept safe
in case he needed to use them against you later. He wouldn't damage his
bargaining chips."
Leia's mind
shook from the bombardment of
too many images at once. The vision of Luke's pallid, lifeless face
kept
superimposing with Han and Chewbacca being mown down by laser fire. And
in the
midst of it all Luke and Vader were watching her, giving off identical
auras of
worried protectiveness.
All
right, damn it, she thought furiously, you're not
helping anyone by standing here. Time to do something. "Right," she
said, trying to
sound purposeful, "let's go find them. Coming, Luke?"
He shook his
head again. "I'll go see
if I can be any use at the landing bay." Something of her terrible fear
for him must have been visible in her face, for he relented a little,
reaching
out to touch her arm. "I'll be fine," he said softly, "I
promise. I'll see you back at the base."
She nodded,
fighting down the certainty
that she would never see him again. "Right." She didn't think she
could look at her brother any more. If she did, she thought she
wouldn't have
the strength to let him go. She turned away from him abruptly and saw
Moff
Nevoy eyeing Vader with a curious expression, as if he was overwhelmed
with
questions that he knew he wouldn't have the chance to ask.
"We'll be
heading out, then, My Lord,"
Nevoy said. "Good luck."
"And to you."
Vader held out his
hand, and after a startled moment, Nevoy shook hands with him. "Thank
you,"
said Vader. "Both of you."
"Any time, My
Lord," said General
Mulcahy, shaking hands with the Dark Lord in turn. "See you at the
Rebellion."
I am
getting so
sick of this shit.
Han Solo ducked
as
a bolt of blaster fire nearly singed off his hair.
Just
once, he thought, I'd
like to get out of a place without having to shoot our way through the
entire
armed forces.
At least this
time
they had some advantage of numbers on their side. There were about two
hundred
of them, he reckoned, instead of the usual quartet of princess, farmboy
and two
smugglers. But as he ought to know, numbers didn't always make for
success. He
didn't know how many they were up against, since the enemy were
entrenched
behind a half opened diamond-spiralling door, and he never saw all of
them at
once. But he figured there couldn't be much more than thirty of them,
at the
most. It didn't matter, though. Thirty men behind a nice blast-shielded
door,
with a tripod-mounted laser cannon that they'd scrounged from somewhere
into
the bargain, were more than a match for two hundred guys in a hallway,
with not
much to hide behind except the bodies of their fallen comrades.
The one
reasonable
option was to concentrate their fire on the cannon's shield. If they
took that
out, they could blow up the cannon, and hopefully annihilate a good
number of
the enemy along with it. So that was what they were trying to do. But
it wasn't
any fun at all, because all around him men were screaming and falling
and
stinking of burned flesh and body fluids with appalling regularity.
There wasn't
even a
corner they could shelter themselves behind, except for one that was
too far to
the rear for them to be able to keep firing on the bad guys. Anyway,
there were
more of the Imperial Guards and their stormtrooper buddies behind them
somewhere, so things weren't likely to get any better if they retreated.
Han, Chewie and
Lieutenant Iddims were among the longest-surviving members of the front
line.
They and the others around them had been constructing a barricade of
piled
bodies, that they hunkered behind as they fired. Laser and blaster fire
searing
into their wall added to the growing stench. The bodies were stacked
highest in
front of Chewbacca's position, since he needed the largest shelter.
Han fired,
gritting
his teeth as his blaster bolt joined the others converging on the
cannon's
shield. He thought he could see a shimmering from the shield, but it
still
held.
Chewie was
roaring
something at him. Han slid further down behind the pile, trying not to
feel
sick as he found himself sitting on some poor bastard's hand. "What,
Chewie?"
Han yelled.
From his
awkward, crouched position the
Wookiee yanked at another burned, blood-soaked body. Only he wasn't
heaving the
dead soldier onto the barricade. He was trying to shove him along the
floor,
away from the front rank. Han saw one of the man's arms flap feebly,
and at the
same time he understood Chewie's roar that said "this one's not dead".
Shit
and shit
and shit, thought Han. I hope when I get
fried, they check that I'm dead
before adding me to the wall. He set down
his blaster rifle on someone's
half-incinerated chest and slithered along the floor toward Chewie's
wounded
guy. With a quick, grateful growl Chewie handed the man over to him and
once
more took up his position among the corpses, raising his rifle and
taking
careful aim.
Han wasn't at
all
convinced that this guy was going to make it, but they owed him the
chance to
try. Trying to stay low himself, Han dragged the black-uniformed man
along for
a few metres, then passed him on to another crouching soldier. "This
one's
wounded," Han grated. "Pass him to the rear."
The other man
nodded, but Han was already worming his way back toward the front.
Then he heard
someone say, "oh, fuck, no."
Before he had
time
to wonder what the hell was the matter now, something exploded.
The sound came
from
above them. It was followed by a shower of plastisteel slivers raining
down on
their heads.
Han flung up
one arm to protect his neck,
at the same time ignominiously burrowing to find shelter under some
poor dead
guy. As the rain of sharp stuff out of the sky seemed to diminish, he
risked a
glance upward.
There'd been a
skylight above them, but there wasn't one now. Instead there was a Lambda shuttle, the
lights from the corridor below illumining it against the dark sky. Han
heard
himself yelling something as the shuttle fired.
Call
me a
pessimist, he thought, but I really don't
think we're gonna get out of this
oneÉ
The air around
him
seemed to be burning. Fire from the cannon sailed over the wall of
bodies,
slicing into several men who'd jumped up to run. The shuttle's blasts
lanced
down at them, charring the piles of corpses and the living men
sheltered among
them.
Most of those
who
hadn't been hit yet were running or crawling to the edge of the
corridor, where
the shuttle's pilot would have difficulty adjusting his guns to reach
them.
That wouldn't stop the cannon, but it still seemed like the most likely
bet.
Han looked
around
wildly for Chewie. The Wookiee was still crouched among the corpses. He
was
clearly alive and unwounded – somehow – but he made
no effort to
escape. Instead he was facing the enemy and firing at their cannon.
Han yelled his
name, but there was too much damned noise. "Stupid furry sonofabitch,"
Han muttered. Like some Cigelsani sand crab he started scrambling on
all fours
toward his friend, between the spitting bursts of flame.
Somehow he
reached
the barrier without dying, flopping onto the warm, gooey mass. Some of
it wasn't
just warm, it was smouldering, and he yelled as his right shoulder made
contact
with a section where the fabric and skin still burned. Chewie glanced
over at
him, and Han shouted at the top of his lungs, "Chewbacca, gods damn it,
get out of here now!"
Chewie roared
back
at him something along the lines of "you get out", then
a wave of
heat attacked Han's right side. He cringed away from it in a desperate
jolt of
terror and pain. In the momentary darkness he heard roaring howls from
Chewbacca, and someone else – probably Lieutenant Iddims
– shouting
"let's get him out of here! Come on! Come on!"
Han blinked and
tried to focus his eyes. As his vision swam into focus he saw fresh
smoke and
embers in the pile of bodies beside him. On his right leg, most of the
fabric
of his trouser leg had burned or melted away. His leg seemed to have
sprouted
red, oozing welts, and in places it looked like the cloth was melted
into his
skin.
Two sets of
hands were yanking on him, and
he tried to protest that he could still move on his own, thank you very
much.
He tried to crawl off the bodies, but he couldn't tell if his right leg
was
moving or not. He heard a panicked note to Chewbacca's howls. Han could
see
Iddims now, covered with soot and blood. The Imperial yelled, "General
Solo, if I don't get you out of here alive it's my ass!"
Really, thought Han, I
thought it was my ass that just about got melted. But Iddims
seemed like a
nice enough guy and Han didn't want to ruin his rescue mission if he
could help
it. He stopped struggling as Chewie and the Lieutenant took hold of his
arms
and started to drag him along. He tried to get his legs under him so he
could
crawl instead of just being dragged, but he wasn't sure how much he
actually
contributed to the effort as the three of them struggled their way over
floor
and corpses, striking for the relative safety of the hallway's edge.
He only knew
they
had made it when he bumped into something hard and he felt the smooth
stone of
the wall against his face. Of course now they still had to somehow get
down
that hallway without being burned to a crisp.
Something
changed.
Damned if he could figure out what it was, but –
The shuttle's
fire
was still blazing out of the sky. But the cannon had stopped.
He wasn't sure
if,
over the sound of the shuttle's attack, he could hear other blasters,
and
shouting. He did hear Lieutenant Iddims gasp, or maybe yell,
"Firelord's
Grave, will you look at that."
Leaning against
the
corridor's wall and trying not to put any weight on his burned side,
Han
struggled to see beyond the mound of bodies, to the doorway that
sheltered
their opponents.
Then he decided
he
was definitely out of his mind.
The men visible
in
the doorway were turning to face something behind them. As they turned,
crimson
blaster bolts mowed them down.
Striding toward
the
fallen men and the now deserted laser cannon was a huge dark form that
could be
no one in the universe but Darth Vader.
Han thought,
I'm
hurt worse than I thought. I'm dying and hallucinating. As if it
weren't
enough for him to be imagining the presence of his
almost-father-in-law. He saw
a small, slender figure walking beside Vader, and he couldn't get out
of his
mind the conviction that the figure was Leia.
Han slumped
against
the wall and gazed up, trying to force his thoughts past the pain in
his side
and the whirling confusion of his brain.
It didn't help.
His
hallucinations had followed his gaze, up into the sky.
That's
it, he thought. Now
I know I'm dead.
Swooping into
view
beyond the shattered remains of the skylight, forward guns spitting
fire as it
dove toward the enemy shuttle, was the Millennium Falcon.
Half of one
stair
crumbled under Luke's foot.
He sprang to
the
next step, and called a warning back to the Palace Guardsmen behind
him. The
various Guards seemed to avoid the disintegrating step, at least Luke
didn't
hear any shouts or curses. He kept running, sticking to the side of the
staircase that thus far wasn't falling apart.
They had
reached
the Emperor's wing of the Palace. They had almost made it to the level
that
housed Landing Bay Four, but the lifts in this region of the Palace all
seemed
to have stopped. And this particular stairwell, at least, wasn't doing
much
better. All throughout this wing, bits and pieces of the structure
seemed on
the verge of collapse. It was as if Palpatine, in his death throes, had
torn
away at the building's supports from the inside. Most of the damage
wasn't
immediately apparent, but the frame of the Palace must be steadily
giving way.
As the skeleton slipped and subsided, the floors and the walls and the
ceilings
would fall along with it.
As if it knew
he
was coming, a mini-landslide began in the three stairs just above Luke.
The
left side of the three steps shuddered and broke, sending stone rubble
sliding
rumbling toward him. He lunged farther to the right side of the
staircase. One
chunk of rock caught him in the shin, and he fought back the immediate
tears of
pain that stung his eyes. No bones broken, anyway, he thought,
as he
grabbed the exposed metal backbone of one of the stairs for support,
then
launched himself upward and kept on running.
It almost
seemed
that this damage hadn't only been caused in Palpatine's last moments of
life.
Luke could very easily imagine that Palpatine was still causing it. He
wondered
if it was possible for the Emperor's spirit to be doing this. He
wouldn't think
so; Ben and Yoda hadn't seemed able to manipulate objects in the
physical realm
after they were dead. Luke bitterly added the thought, they
were just able
to manipulate me. But then, neither Yoda nor Ben had used the
Force to become ruler of
the Galaxy. Maybe it wouldn't be surprising if Palpatine's spirit could
do
things that theirs couldn't.
He wondered if
this
wing of the Palace was the only portion affected. Gods, he hoped it
was. He
hoped this wasn't happening around Leia and Darth and Han and Chewie.
Luke reached
the
top of the stairwell. By a miracle the corridor ahead of him seemed
solid and
untouched by the spreading collapse – for now. Luke started
jogging down
the corridor to reach the men ahead of him, forcing himself not to limp
from
his throbbing left shin.
The worst of
it, he thought, was that
without the Force, something could happen to his family or his friends
and he
wouldn't even know.
Or maybe that
was a
blessing. Maybe it was better not to know. He hadn't done them very
damned much
good when he had been able to
sense their danger.
He thought, I
shouldn't have let them go.
That thought
had
been haunting him ever since they parted in the Great Hall, whenever he
had
time to be haunted rather than just worrying about the Palace
collapsing around
him.
I
should have
gone with them. Leia asked me to. They're my family. I ought to be with
them.
But it had hurt
so
much, seeing them together. As if they'd always been that way, united
in
ambitions and love. The two of them together, without him. It hurt that
he hadn't
been there for them in their fight with the Emperor, but it hurt more
to know
that even if he had been there, he couldn't have done anything to help.
Damn
it, Luke! he thought
viciously. Can't you ever think of anything besides how much
you hurt? You'd
be as much use to them now as those soldiers who went with them.
Damnation, you
can still fire a blaster, can't you?
The men ahead
had
halted just before the next bend in the corridor. As Luke drew nearer,
he knew
why.
Beyond that
corner
was the sound of blaster fire, and an occasional cry.
One of their
men, a
soldier in the green Imperial uniform, flattened himself against the
wall and
inched out past the corner, just enough to see beyond. Others began
checking
their blasters' power cells, holstering weapons that were nearly
depleted and
taking out fresh ones. Luke inspected his blaster with the others, but
it was
in pretty good shape. He'd started on a new one when they left the
Great Hall,
and there hadn't been much cause for firing it yet. They'd only run
into one
gang of stormtroopers between the Great Hall and here.
He glanced at
the
men around him. He saw the grimly determined look on Moff Nevoy's face,
and
General Mulcahy's cocky grin.
Luke felt
another
whisper of fury at himself, for not having gone with Leia and Darth.
But he
fought it back. He told himself, it isn't wrong for me to be
here. Nevoy and the
General need people who can fire blasters, too. And at least
they wouldn't
expect him to have the Force, and wouldn't look down on him because he
didn't.
Hell. They were
the
sort of people he should try to model himself on, not a bunch of damned
Jedi. They were men who
saw what they needed to do and did it, without relying on the Force to
see them
through. If he let it, maybe some of their competence and courage would
rub off
on him.
Just now, he
didn't
have time to think about it.
The man leaning
up
against the corner glanced back and nodded to the others.
The first wave
of
them, with the sentry in the lead, leapt forward.
Yells and more
blaster fire. As the first assault spread out to fill the corridor,
Luke and
the others around him raced to join them.
Then he was
shouting and firing with the
rest.
They'd ambushed
a
party of Red Idiots and stormtroopers. It seemed they'd successfully
taken the
enemy by surprise, for when Luke joined the battle he saw several of
them still
turning to face their attackers.
In the first
few
seconds the men on each side of Luke were hit. Luke kept firing.
At the edge of
his
vision Luke could see more blaster bolts striking at the enemy. Without
losing
his focus he couldn't tell where they were coming from, just some dark
shape in
the direction that the Imperial Guards and stormtroopers had been
facing.
It was strange,
but
even the fight didn't stop him from thinking. Firing as fast as he
could, at
any red or white figure that moved, there were still other images
racing
through his mind. He was thinking about the first time he'd ever been
in this
kind of firefight. The first time he'd fired a blaster to kill.
Running through
the
Death Star with Leia and Han and Chewie, still wearing that stupid
oversized
stormtrooper armour. Firing and running and firing again, hardly
believing it
when some of the men he fired at actually fell down. And all the while
with one
pointless thought running through his head, over and over. I'm
Luke
Skywalker, I'm here to rescue you. Wishing he'd
thought of something more
intelligent to say to her. Hoping he wouldn't get killed here, because
if he
did, that stupid sentence would be just about all she'd remember him
for. I'm
Luke Skywalker, I'm here to rescue you.
Gods. He wished
he
were back there right now. Back when he'd believed he knew what he
would do
with the rest of his life. When he really thought he could become a
heroic Jedi
knight and – just maybe – marry Princess Leia, and
live happily
ever after.
He thought he
felt
the floor shift and roar beneath him, as if the Palace were a sleeping
rancor
that was just starting to wake up.
Oh,
gods! Let
Leia and Darth be all right!
That was when
he
realised there was no one left to shoot.
Six of their
own
men were hit. Four were totally motionless. One was writhing while a
comrade
pressed a wadded up uniform jacket into a hole in his chest. Another
was
getting to his feet while the man who was tying some fabric around the
wound in
his arm snarled at him to hold still.
Movement in the
distance drew Luke's eyes beyond their fallen, and the piles of red and
white
armoured dead.
His first
thought
was, well, that's weird.
He had another
momentary sensation of his memories taking him somewhere else. Not the
Death
Star, this time, but Tatooine. What he saw at the end of the hallway
looked for
an instant like one of the rock outcroppings in the Jundland Wastes.
The
figures of people cautiously emerging from behind scattered boulders
might be
Jawas, or if he wanted to be pessimistic about it, Sand People.
They weren't
either, of course. The mountain of rock wasn't one of the cliffs in the
Tatooine desert, it was the remains of a former doorway, where most of
the
ceiling and part of the walls had collapsed. The people, he saw when he
really
looked, were more men in black or green uniforms, who'd been sheltering
behind
the chunks of ceiling and firing on the Red Idiots and stormtroopers.
"Thanks,"
one man called down. "Who's down there?"
"Nevoy,"
the Moff called back.
"Sir,"
the first man now said enthusiastically, with a salute. "Thanks for
coming."
Nevoy went to
investigate the caved-in corridor, after detailing ten men to keep
watch on the
open corridor behind them. Luke was among them.
He wondered if
he
was imagining the fact that the walls were swaying. It would certainly
be
possible to imagine it. They were swathed in Palpatine's damned purple
drapes,
which fluttered from a breeze creeping in through some shattered wall.
One of
the drapes, ahead and to the right, had fallen along with a section of
wall,
the rich dark fabric powdered with rock dust and jumbled up with huge
chunks of
stone. The armoured corpses of their late opponents were sprawled over
piles of
stone rubble, and behind the pillars of what had been a ceremonial
gateway,
crossing the corridor in six pillared arches. Four and a half of them
remained,
the half of one arch sticking out into nothing like a broken rib that
had torn
through skin.
Luke and his
companions took up position on the far side of the arched barrier,
nearer to
the mountain of fallen stone. For a while Luke stared at the hallway in
the
direction they'd come from. The two wounded men had been removed from
the field
of battle. The man with the wounded arm was standing with the others
near the
heap of stone at the end of the hallway, determinedly acting as if
nothing was
wrong with him. The one who'd been hit in the chest was now lying near
Luke's
post, making horrible little moans while one of his comrades tried to
get the
wound to seal with a spray from an emergency medipack.
Trying not to
stare
at the probably dying man, Luke forced himself to study the damaged
hallway
instead. Between the cave-in and their position at the arches were
multiple
heaps of rubble, scattered along the corridor. Their origin was hard to
identify until one looked up and saw that they'd been portions of the
ceiling.
Through the gaping holes above appeared weird dizzying vistas that had
to be
the walls and ceilings of the next floor up.
Luke turned
back to
stare into the hallway where they'd fought. Still nothing moving out
there,
except the lazy flutter of the purple drapes. Without him intending it,
Luke's
gaze met that of the black-uniformed soldier standing beside him. The
Guardsman, perhaps a couple years older than Luke, had a look of
patient
boredom on his face. When he met Luke's eyes he reached into his
jacket's
inside pocket and pulled out a package of chewing gum. "Want some?"
he asked.
"No thanks,"
Luke said.
The Palace
Guard
shrugged, removed a stick of gum and began chewing. He was about to put
the
empty wrapper back in his pocket, then a thought occurred to him and he
flicked
the wadded-up bit of foil onto the floor instead. He grinned at Luke as
he did
so, and for a startled instant Luke found himself grinning back.
At the end of
the
corridor, Luke could hear Moff Nevoy in consultation with several other
soldiers. He couldn't pick out the words, but curiosity prompted him to
turn
and see if he could figure out what they were saying.
He didn't have
long
to wonder. Turning to face the soldiers in the hall -- the larger group
nearer to
him as well as the sentry party -- Nevoy raised his voice and demanded,
"anyone
have grappling hooks and cables?"
A pause, then
one
green-uniformed officer said, "we do, Sir. The six of us." He nodded
to indicate a cluster of other men around him.
"Good. See if
you can find out which of those holes'll give us the safest access to
the next
floor."
Now Luke kept
alternating his gaze between the corridor he was supposed to be
guarding, and
the investigations of the six soldiers. After a hurried discussion the
six
split up and each walked to different holes in the ceiling. Luke
watched as the
grappling cables shot upward and the soldiers tugged on them. Several
of the
hooks fell down again immediately, in a shower of rock chunks that
somehow
avoided squashing any of the six soldiers. At first Luke couldn't tell
what the
men whose hooks hadn't fallen were doing now. Then he realised that the
hooks
must be fitted with cameras that sent readings back to the hand-held
monitors
the soldiers had unclipped from their belts.
Nice. Must be
bigshot commando stuff. Certainly none of the captured Imperial
armaments Luke
had seen over the years had included such high-tech grappling
equipment, and if
the ex-Imps in the Alliance had it, they'd been keeping it under wraps.
As he watched a
soldier start to scramble up one of the cables, with apparent ease,
another
wave of resentment washed over Luke. He couldn't help contrasting the
conflicts
in which he'd been one of the leaders – firing the shot that
killed the
Death Star, figuring out how smash the AT-ATs – with now,
when some
Imperial shimmied up a hotshit commando cable while Luke stood in the
hall and
kept watch.
Kept
watch very
badly, he reminded himself. He turned and stared out
into the hallway paved
with corpses.
"Great,"
muttered the Palace
Guard with the chewing gum. "I hate climbing."
Luke cast him
what was meant to be a
sympathetic grimace, and looked quickly back to the hallway. He really
hoped
this guy did not want to get a conversation going.
Gods
damn you, Luke, stop it, his mind
snarled. You had your chance.
Now just step aside with whatever grace you can scrape together and let
someone
else have a turn.
No
one can be a hero forever.
Luke heard Moff
Nevoy's voice closer to his
position, and glanced back. The Moff stood beneath one of the gaping
holes,
which now had three cables fastened to its mouth. He was saying
something into
his wrist com, then he closed the link and looked around at the
assembled
troops.
In the
commanding tone born of years of practice,
Nevoy announced, "we're heading up. Captain Raby's sending two
transports
to meet us on the next level, where the explosion opened up the
building. Once
you reach the hallway, head for the Emperor's apartments." He demanded
of
the leader of the six commandos, "you know where you're going?"
"Yes, sir."
"Right. We
don't have any reports of
enemy on the floor above, but keep your eyes open. That's all."
Men started
scaling the cables in a more or
less orderly fashion. The commandos led the way, while the others
fastened
their various weapons onto themselves, then formed into scattered lines
by each
of the three cables.
The Guard
standing next to Luke grumbled, "oh,
crap."
It
could be worse, Luke told himself. At least I'm not
afraid of climbing.
Under the
direction of two of the
commandos, who'd remained below, they were limiting it to three men on
each
cable at a time. As the man at the top scrambled over the edge of the
hole and
disappeared, the next man on the floor jumped for the cable and started
his own
upward trip. After a few moments of watching this, Luke found a more
comfortable position leaning up against the pillar and turned his gaze
to the
empty corridor again. He'd noticed in passing that the Palace Guardsman
with
the climbing phobia was looking decidedly green.
"All right,
lads, head for the cables."
The voice came from General Mulcahy, who had crossed to their sentry
post. Luke
was not urprised, when he turned, to see the General looking as fresh
and
cheerful as ever.
The others,
some after exchanging a few
friendly comments with Mulcahy, obeyed. Even the unfortunate Guard next
to Luke
trooped off with the rest, though he spat out his chewing gum before
departing.
Luke and
Mulcahy were left.
"You too, kid,"
the General said
amiably.
"Someone still
needs to keep watch
until the others are up. Sir."
General Mulcahy
gave Luke a long, measuring
look that made him want to disappear. Then Mulcahy smiled, nodded once
and took
up a position at the next arch down from Luke's.
This
time, Luke thought, nothing is going to
distract me
from keeping watch on this godsdamned hallway.
Behind him he
heard the voices of Moff
Nevoy and two or three other men, but he didn't turn around. They were
discussing the best way to move the man with the wounded chest.
"What's his
name?" Luke heard
Nevoy ask.
"Destrehan,
sir."
"All right.
Destrehan, you hear me? I
know this is going to hurt, and you may die in the middle of it. That's
okay if
you have to, but I'd rather you didn't. We're working to get you
through this.
We'll get you to a med bay if you'll just stick with us."
From the bits
of conversation and the
noises of effort that followed, the wounded Destrehan was being lifted
up and
strapped to another soldier who would carry him up the cable. True to
his
resolution Luke did not look around, but he sure hoped they'd picked
the
biggest and strongest guy they had for this job.
The voices
moved farther away again.
Once more Luke
thought he felt the floor
shudder beneath him. He exchanged a glance with General Mulcahy, who
bit his
lip and nodded.
Moff Nevoy
shouted across the hallway, "Xavier!
Commander Skywalker! We're the last, let's go!"
Luke's gaze
darted back to the cables. Near
the top of one was the alien-looking form that must be one of the
soldiers with
Destrehan strapped to his back. Another man was climbing beneath them.
The only
other figure still in sight was Nevoy, standing at the bottom of the
cable.
"Right, young
man," said Mulcahy.
"Time to take our leave."
They started
toward Nevoy.
Another, louder
rumbling shook the floor.
Palpatine's curtains billowed like huge purple ghosts.
Luke heard a
yell. He looked up and saw
another chunk of ceiling break loose from the hole that the soldiers
were
climbing toward. The man carrying Destrehan lost his grip on the mouth
of the
hole and slid down the cable a few metres, clutching desperately with
one hand.
After an awful
moment he regained his grip
and started climbing again. But Luke saw something else.
The arches he
and Mulcahy had sheltered
behind were wobbling, like a structure of some child's building blocks
that the
kid had decided to knock down.
The huge stone
blocks wobbled for another
second, then, with a roaring groan, they started to fall toward Mulcahy
and
Luke.
Luke yelled,
"General! Above you! Look
out!"
He lunged at
the General to pull him away.
Then everything disappeared in a wave of stone and dust.
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