8

Through the simmering haze of a security field deep within the steelcrete mazes of Coruscant, Kyp Durron looked at the thorn shape of the Sun Crusher.

He squinted to get a better view, leaning forward until three heavily armed New Republic guards strode to bar his way. Within the hangar he could see another crew of guards standing around the Sun Crusher itself. Just inside the electrostatic security field, a huge blast door hung ready to clang down at a moment’s notice.

With his small wiry frame, free grin, and tousled dark hair, Kyp didn’t think he could possibly pose any threat, but the three guards pointed their blaster rifles at his chest. “This is a restricted area,” the sergeant said. “Leave immediately, or we will shoot.”

“Hey, relax,” Kyp said, raising his hands. “If I wanted to steal the thing, I would never have flown it here in the first place.”

The sergeant looked at him skeptically. It was obvious he didn’t have a clue what Kyp was talking about.

“I’m Kyp Durron. I flew the Sun Crusher with Han Solo from Maw Installation. I just wanted to have another look.”

The sergeant’s stony expression did not change. “I don’t know General Solo personally,” he said, “but I have orders to restrict all access. No exceptions.”

Kyp shifted to one side to see between the guards. He disregarded their presence, looking again at the angular superweapon that had been developed by the captive scientist Qwi Xux at Maw Installation.

Dr. Xux had innocently designed a weapon that could trigger a star to explode, wiping out all life in an entire solar system. Qwi had done it as an exercise to test the limits of her scientific abilities; but Han had broken through her brainwashing and made her realize what she had created. Qwi had then helped them steal the superweapon and escape from Admiral Daala and Maw Installation.

Kyp was glad the Sun Crusher was now in the hands of the New Republic, but it concerned him that the Senate couldn’t decide what to do with it. The existence of such a powerful weapon seemed to change the attitudes of even good people in the government.

Kyp watched as engineers and mechanics attempted to understand how the Sun Crusher worked. They used laser-welders against the ultradense quantum-plated armor, but nothing could scratch the indestructible craft.

Two mechanics clambered out of the upper hatch, carrying a metal cylinder a meter and a half long and half a meter wide. Three engineers at the bottom of the hangar bay craned their necks to look up at the cylinder and dropped their hydrospanners in horror. Another engineer put down her precision calibrator and backed away very slowly.

“It’s one of the supernova torpedoes!” an engineer said.

The two mechanics carrying it suddenly froze. Someone sounded a squawking alarm. The guards inside the security field ran about looking for targets to shoot. The trapped engineers and mechanics screamed for the deadly security field to be dropped so they could evacuate. The three guards outside whirled and leveled their blaster rifles at Kyp, as if he had become a threat after all.

He laughed. “It’s only a message cylinder,” he said. “Have them open it up—they’ll see. It’s where the log recorders are kept so vital data can be ejected if the Sun Crusher ever gets destroyed.”

But as alarms hammered through the air, and people inside the restricted hangar ran around in panic, the guards showed no interest in Kyp’s explanations. “You’d better leave now, young man. Immediately!” the sergeant said.

Shaking his head, part in amusement and part in annoyance, Kyp circled back up the long corridors, wondering how long it would take the supposed experts to figure it out.

Wedge Antilles watched with admiration as the beautiful and ethereal alien scientist, Qwi Xux, stepped forward and prepared to address the New Republic Assembly.

Qwi did not like to talk in front of an audience, and she had been nervous for days after setting up this speech. A solitary person, she had begun to confide in Wedge now that he spent most of his time as her official bodyguard and liaison. Wedge had encouraged her in every way, trying to calm her, insisting that she would do a wonderful job. He supported her belief that she could no longer ignore the Sun Crusher.

Qwi had looked at him gratefully. Her wide indigo eyes were in striking contrast to her pale, pale blue skin and the gemlike cap of pearlescent feathers that draped from her head down to her shoulders.

Now Qwi stared at Mon Mothma and the other ministers. She straightened her back, letting her thin arms hang at her sides. She spoke with a flutey voice that sounded like birdsong.

“Mon Mothma and esteemed representatives of the New Republic government,” Qwi said, “when I first came to you seeking sanctuary and bringing the Sun Crusher, you invited me to speak to you whenever I felt the need. Now I must tell you of my grave concerns. I will try to be brief, because you must come to a decision.”

Beside Wedge, the enormous form of Chewbacca rumbled a low growl of displeasure; but Wedge was impressed at how quiet and restrained the Wookiee had managed to hold himself. Chewbacca was not known for his ability to sit still.

Threepio spoke in a soft voice. “Calm down, Chewbacca. You’ll have a chance to speak soon enough. Are you quite certain you don’t want me to edit your words into more appropriate language? I am a protocol droid, you know, and I am familiar with the requirements.”

Chewie blatted a quiet but definite negative. Wedge shushed them both so he could hear Qwi as she spoke. Her musical voice didn’t falter, and Wedge felt a warm pride spreading in his chest.

“The Sun Crusher is the most formidable weapon ever devised,” Qwi said. “I know this better than anyone, because I designed it. It is an order of magnitude more dangerous than even the Death Star. It is no longer in the clutches of Imperial powers—but I’m concerned about what the New Republic intends. I have refused to divulge its workings for a reason, but you have kept it locked in your research bays for weeks, tinkering with it, studying it, trying to unlock its secrets. It will do you no good.”

She paused to take a long breath, and Wedge worried that she might lose her nerve. But Qwi straightened her slender form and spoke again. “I urge you to destroy the Sun Crusher. A weapon of such power should not be trusted in the hands of any government.”

Mon Mothma looked weak and weary as she gazed down at Qwi. Below and to her left, old General Jan Dodonna spoke up. “Dr. Xux, according to reports from our engineers, this weapon cannot be destroyed. The quantum armor makes it impossible for us even to dismantle it.”

“Then you must find some other way to dispose of the Sun Crusher,” Qwi said.

Sounding flustered, Senator Garm Bel-Iblis, Mon Mothma’s old nemesis, rose to his feet. “We cannot allow a weapon of such power to slip out of our grasp,” he said. “With the Sun Crusher, we have a tactical advantage available to none of our Imperial enemies.”

“Enough,” Mon Mothma said in a quavering voice. Her cheeks were flushed, which served to highlight the pallor of her skin. “We have debated this many times,” she said, “and my opinion stands unchanged. A weapon of such hideous destructive power is a brutal and inhuman device. The Emperor might have been monster enough to consider using it, but under no circumstances will the New Republic be party to such barbarism. We have no need for such a weapon, and its presence only serves to divide us. I shall veto any attempts to study the Sun Crusher further, and I will fight to my last breath any of you who suggest using it against any foe, Imperial or otherwise.”

She looked at her military commanders, and Wedge felt intimidated by the anger and sheer conviction in her voice. The vacant seat of Admiral Ackbar, who was normally a voice of sanity and moderation, remained empty and hollow like a deep wound. Wedge silently urged Qwi to speak up again, to tell her idea.

As if on cue, she said in her melodious voice, “Excuse me, but might I make a suggestion? Since the Sun Crusher cannot be destroyed by any normal means, we should use the automatic pilot to send it into the heart of a sun, or at least to the core of a gas-giant planet, where it will be impossible to recover.”

General Crix Madine spoke up. “A gas-giant planet would be sufficient. The pressures at the core are far beyond what even our most sophisticated vessels can withstand. The Sun Crusher would be out of reach for all time.”

Bel-Iblis looked around, his dark eyes flashing. As if sensing defeat and realizing that a gas planet was marginally more acceptable than the blinding fury of a star, he said, “All right, dump it into a gas giant then, for whatever good it will do.”

Mon Mothma raised her hand as if to issue an official directive, but Bel-Iblis interrupted. “On a related topic, I hope you have not forgotten that the Maw Installation itself remains a threat. The Imperial admiral may have taken her Star Destroyers, but the scientists are still there inside the black hole cluster. According to General Solo’s report, they have a fully functional Death Star prototype.” He sent a challenging look toward Mon Mothma.

Chewbacca lurched to his feet and bellowed. His roar echoed through the chamber, stopping all conversation. Threepio waved his golden metallic arms. “Not yet, Chewbacca, not yet! It’s not our turn.”

But Mon Mothma looked at the agitated Wookiee and acknowledged him. “You have something to say to us, Chewbacca? Please.”

Chewbacca spoke a long rumbling sentence in his Wookiee language. As he spoke, Threepio stood beside him and translated quickly in his prissy synthetic voice.

“Chewbacca wishes to remind this auspicious gathering that not only is Maw Installation the home of numerous highly intelligent Imperial scientists, but it is also a prison for some number of Wookiee captives who have been held for nearly a decade. Chewbacca respectfully wishes to suggest—”

Threepio raised a metal hand in front of the Wookiee’s mouth. “Slow down, Chewbacca! I’m doing the best I can.” He faced forward again. “Excuse me. Chewbacca respectfully wishes to request that the New Republic Council consider an expedition to Maw Installation, both as a rescue party and as an occupation force for the installation.”

Chewbacca roared but Threepio did not seem disturbed. “I know that’s not what you said, Chewbacca, but it’s what you meant—so be quiet and let me finish.

“Ahem, with such an occupation force the New Republic can ensure the security and whereabouts of whatever unpleasant weapons have been developed at Maw Installation. Chewbacca thanks you for your time and consideration, and he wishes you to have a pleasant day.”

Chewbacca cuffed him, and Threepio sat down in a stiff-legged tumble of golden arms and legs. “Oh, do be quiet,” the droid said. “Every change I made was an improvement.”

Mon Mothma looked to the gathered Council members. All of them seemed pleased with the suggestion to send a force to Maw Installation. Qwi Xux backed toward Wedge, nervous and relieved; he squeezed her shoulder in congratulation. She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

“I believe we’re all agreed on this matter,” Mon Mothma said, and forced a weak smile, “for once. We shall set up a rescue and occupation force to go to Maw Installation. We must move decisively, as soon as possible, but not so quickly that we make mistakes.”

As Mon Mothma looked around, she seemed to want nothing more than to leave the chamber and return to her quarters where she could rest. Wedge frowned in concern.

“If there is no other business,” Mon Mothma said, “this meeting is adjourned.”