Balance Point Read online

  “Tell me again what caused the breach. All I’ve got is a report that sounds like miniature mynocks.”

  “Didn’t someone get you a sample?”

  “Not if you don’t have one.”

  “I don’t.” Jacen explained as little as possible. When he got to the point about the moth creatures pupating on the outside of sleeping huts, there was a long silence.

  He flicked the comlink. “Crew deck, did you get that? They’re singing in here, and—”

  “Copy,” a voice that hadn’t spoken before said. “We’re calling ahead, about decontamination.”

  The refugees close enough to hear Jacen’s comlink turned their heads.

  “Believe me,” Jacen said, “nobody brought a pupa.”

  “Not deliberately,” the comlink voice said, “but one egg, stuck to one hairy Ryn, will restart the cycle—and our dome’s taller than yours. Put a flock of moths up there out of reach, and you’ll bring down the whole operation.”

  Jacen clutched the link, leaning against Jaina and swaying with the crawler’s motion. Other than Randa, most of the other passengers at this end of the cavernous hold seemed to be Ryn. If Jacen couldn’t have told that by looking, he could’ve figured it out by the odor. If it bothered him, it must be driving the Ryn out of their minds. Several of them had raised their arms and were rotating in place, actually dancing.

  Jacen murmured into the comlink, “Ryn are almost compulsively clean. There won’t be white-eye eggs or anything else on them.”

  “Maybe you’re convinced,” the crewer said. “A furred species is tricky to decontaminate. We’ve got a sealable refugee processing area inside Gateway dome. Only problem is, we don’t have any UniFumi stockpiled—SELCORE usually ships their decontam chemicals with every boatload of refugees. High-energy irradiation would work, but it could cause skin damage. And low-energy lamps won’t get through fur. So they’re going to have two choices. We can strip-and-dip everybody in med-lab disinfectant, but I can’t guarantee that won’t make them sick. Or we can shave and irradiate.”

  The Ryn next to Jacen honked softly. He turned aside and muttered to three others.

  “Isn’t there something else?” Jacen asked, uncomfortably aware that he was surrounded by several hundred sleep-deprived Ryn, who’d just left all their belongings behind—again.

  “We can separate out the Vuvrians and Vors,” the voice continued. “Hairless folks can zip through a fast irradiation, and we’ll send them on their way.”

  Jacen curled against the hatch. “Why are you asking me? Where’s Captain Solo?”

  “He seems to have lost his comlink. You’re next in charge.”

  Jacen thumbed off the comlink, hoping SELCORE’s administration would come up with a better idea. The engine thrummed rhythmically under his feet. Some of the Ryn were now stamping out that rhythm as others sang. Jacen flexed his knees, swaying against Jaina.

  “That doesn’t sound good,” she muttered.

  The comlink chirped again. “Solo?”

  He raised it. “Here.”

  “We’ve got word from someone named Mezza. They’re refusing to be dunked in med-lab juice, not that I blame them.”

  “Me, neither,” Jacen said. “And don’t discriminate against Ryn. Whatever goes for them, goes for Vors and Vuvrians and humans. And the Hutt,” he added, glancing down. Randa had curled up in a bulbous spiral.

  The song ended. Someone started a new one. Two verses later, Jacen got another announcement via comlink.

  “Finally found the other Solo. He says fair’s fair, same treatment for everybody.”

  Well done, Dad. Jacen murmured to Jaina, “I don’t care if they shave me.”

  “Me, neither. I’ve seen buzz-cut female pilots.”

  When the shaking and thrumming died away, something clanged against the hatch. Jacen tried to move back. The mob behind him pushed in the opposite direction. He braced against a bulkhead. Fortunately, the crew had moved a ramp up to the hatch, so when it opened, he didn’t fall headlong. Crewers called commands, directing the debarking refugees to fan out and keep moving. Ryn streamed around the prone Hutt.

  The crawlers had been driven inside a mammoth metal room, larger than many docking bays and sealed off from the rest of the dome. A chem-suited crewer waved Jacen and Jaina aside, so they headed for an elevated platform—and spotted their father on his way to the same spot, trading shoves with Droma. Other Gateway crewers directed the new refugees toward a fenced area, where still others scurried around, laying something out on the ground. The noise level rose steadily, Vors and humans and Vuvrians and Ryn all talking at once.

  Through a bay door that resealed instantly, there whirred a small ground-effect vehicle marked ADMINISTRATION. Four figures sat inside, wearing brilliant orange chem suits and full helmeted masks. Jacen appreciated their situation. Like the crewers, anybody who joined them in quarantine would face decontamination. But why hadn’t they just set up a holoprojector?

  Then he got a feeling about that vehicle.

  Incredulous, he nudged Jaina. She’d been right here. Here, all along. At Gateway!

  Jaina nudged him back. They turned toward one another so each one could watch their father with side vision.

  The second-smallest of the three orange-suited figures jumped out of the vehicle. Her face was shrouded, but her determined gait was unmistakable, and Jacen felt her through the Force. Her smaller shadow had to be one of the Noghri.

  Han and Droma strode up. Han looked half-ready to send Droma flying. “No, they don’t have repulsor combs. We’re just going to have to do this—”

  “The hard way?” Droma interrupted. “What do you care, if they take off that little patch of fur on top of your empty head? Do you have any idea how cold—”

  The orange-suited figure reached them.

  “Hello,” Han said, hastily setting his dirt-streaked face to a slight smile. “Thanks for sending the crawlers, but we’ve got a slight problem. One of your crewers just found something he thought was an egg. We’ve got to find out where those bugs came from, but my people here deserve a little respect.”

  “We’ll do our best.”

  Jacen strained his ears. The voice sounded husky, but right.

  “Equal treatment for everyone. SELCORE is enormously grateful for refugee sponsors.”

  Han extended a hand. “Glad you understand. Han Solo.”

  Instead of taking his hand, the administrator reached up for her mask’s clasps.

  “Hey, wait,” Han exclaimed. “You’ll end up in decontamination.”

  She pulled off her mask one-handed. A long coil of dark-brown hair tumbled loose. “That’s all right,” she said somberly.

  Leia stared at Han’s weary face—his gaping hazel eyes, his slack jaw stubbled with gray. Luke and Mara must have known Han was here, and assumed she did, too. How many people made that assumption—and so they just didn’t tell her?

  Now, she knew she might have only a moment to reach him, before he remembered the last time she spoke to him. Angrily. “If your people have to be decontaminated,” she told Droma, “I’ll show them Gateway and SELCORE are with them, not against them.” For the moment, her aide Abbela could manage Gateway’s day-to-day business. Before Han’s eyes went hard and empty again, she had to reach him. She stepped closer. “Besides, I had no idea you were here. I should’ve known, but … I don’t think you ever sent over a roster.”

  “We, ah, didn’t.” A lopsided grin appeared. “I suspect SELCORE’s been too busy administering Gateway to notice.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. Olmahk stayed close, on watch, as C-3PO assisted the newcomers. Where would she put them all? She’d hoped to bring those poor Thirty-two people inside her more permanent dome eventually, and send workers back in week-long shifts. Gateway had plenty of space, but construction equipment was booked for weeks ahead, her new apartments filled before she built them. There were tents, carefully struck when her first charges moved into sturdier hut
s—and there was the decontamination issue …

  Later! She had four-fifths of her family in plain sight, everyone but Anakin. This hadn’t happened in months!

  She flung her arms around Han. His body remained stiff, but he laid an arm on her shoulders.

  She backed away from him.

  “Hello, Mom.” Jacen opened his arms, then hesitated.

  Leia set down her droopy fabric helmet. Since she was committed to quarantine now, she yanked off her chem suit and then flung her arms around Jacen. “By the Force, you’re as big as your father.”

  Then she spotted Jaina, hanging back. “What are you doing here?”

  Jaina dangled a pair of fancy goggles from one hand. “Sick leave. We tried to find you.”

  Leia’s stomach took a dive. “Were you injured?”

  “Temporary partial blindness. Nothing serious.” Jaina lowered her voice. “Get it straight with Dad, Mom. That’s first.” She turned and strolled back toward the Ryn mob.

  Smiling ruefully, Jacen placed both hands on Leia’s shoulders. He gently turned her toward Han, who had thrust his hands back into his pockets. “First,” Jacen murmured.

  Hesitantly, Leia caressed both twins through the Force. Jacen glowed with the pleasure of being reunited; in Jaina, there was a repressed bitterness that she’d obviously have to face—later.

  “Guess it’s time I found something to do.” Droma replaced the soft cap he’d doffed. “Good to see you again, Princess Leia.” He followed Jaina.

  Leia linked one arm through her husband’s. “Let me show you the whole quarantine area,” she said lightly.

  In a converted repair dock, families clung to each other, shuffling forward. She mustn’t look at them. She had to settle things with Han. Her fault, his fault—didn’t matter. Beneath her strength and independence, she really was happiest with someone to help carry her burdens.

  On the other hand, that meant she had to help carry his.

  “Yes,” she admitted, “SELCORE and Gateway have been taking care of themselves. And trying to reclaim the planet. Remember Honoghr, where we couldn’t do much of anything? Here, it’s in reach. And the Yuuzhan Vong don’t want it. This could be a haven for millions.”

  “I don’t think you’ve paid much attention to the Duros.” He frowned. “They’re—”

  “Barely tolerating us,” she admitted. “But we haven’t given much back, yet. This world is the key to a new future, where all peoples can live side by side. Wait until you see what our scientists are starting to accomplish.”

  “Where’s old Goldenrod?” Han rubbed his rough chin. “I could’ve used him. All they gave us was a pair of beat-up modified loadlifters. I had to scam a medical droid.”

  Leia half smiled. “Threepio? Just what you needed. Someone to really irritate you.” Han must be utterly distracted, she thought, not to recognize C-3PO in a vermin-proof chem suit.

  Han’s eyes narrowed. “Has Isolder shown up?”

  She pulled away, feeling blindsided. “What?”

  “At least ten people played me that HoloNet bite of you and His Gorgeousness stepping off that Hapan ship together on Yald. You looked pretty cozy.”

  Leia got a good breath. “You, who wants everybody to trust you—can’t you trust me? The nets have used that as a publicity stunt. I couldn’t back out without losing the Hapans’ support. We needed those ships.”

  His expression softened. “Yeah. We did need them. Too bad, how that turned out.”

  One crisis resolved! On to the next. “How’s Jacen?” she asked. “I heard he was taking it all pretty hard.”

  “Still chewing on it, I guess.” He grabbed her hand. “You accused me of having a fling with my past. Well, look at these people. Does this look like a fling—”

  “No,” she said. “Han, I’m sorry. It’s been tough, lately. Really hard.”

  “Yeah. Well.” He firmed his lips, swallowed, then glanced up again. “You probably won’t forget some things, but I was hoping you’d forgive them.”

  Leia threw her arms around him again. This time, he returned the embrace. His arms gripped her, his breath had the sweetness of …

  Well, of a wet Wookiee.

  She held her breath while she kissed him.

  Then there was no more time for reconciliation. They walked toward the repair dock, which was rapidly filling with strangers of several species. Leia had ordered it furnished with sleeping pads.

  Han frowned. “Looks good, but I hope you don’t care if the Ryn reshuffle their area every evening.”

  “Why?”

  He stood loose-limbed, looking out on the mob. “They have some interesting taboos. One of them is against sleeping twice in the same place.”

  “I don’t care if they sleep on top of each other. I’m more concerned about feeding them.”

  “Just give them whatever you would’ve shipped to Thirty-two. I’m more worried about water.”

  “We’ve got a well started, under the admin building.”

  For ten minutes, they talked about supplying refugees with basic needs. Really, for someone who didn’t do administration, he’d managed fabulously. She told him so.

  “Sometimes,” he drawled, “I still amaze myself. But Droma thought through a lot of it. Him and the clan heads, Mezza and Romany. And Jacen has been trying to keep the peace. Me, I’m the hope-of-rescue guy.”

  She slid her arm around his waist. They’d climbed onto the top of a controller’s cubicle. Olmahk followed at a discreet distance. Among the milling Ryn, she spotted Jaina with a group of grizzled females, once again wearing her mask.

  “How badly was she hurt, Han?”

  “She ended up EV.”

  The thought of her daughter drifting in frigid vacuum, in the middle of a battle, made Leia’s stomach churn again.

  “We’ve got a decent medical facility. I could process her through decontamination quickly—”

  “No,” Han said. “Only time will fix this. No special treatment for humans, and especially not our family. These Ryn have been kicked around for centuries. They’re not a big group, but they’re loyal to people who treat them decently.”

  A pair of stretcher bearers stalked past, pushing a float cart loaded down with a young-looking Hutt.

  “What’s he doing here?” Leia demanded.

  Han shone that lopsided grin again. She felt she would never get enough of it. “He claimed that he wanted to defect, and hit the Vong where it hurts. But did you ever know a Hutt who could cooperate under pressure?”

  Leia thought hard. “I’ll tell you if I remember any. I have an idea, Han. How many sick and injured have you got?”

  He pursed his lips and stared out over the mob. She eyed his profile, cataloging features she’d loved half her life. Had he broken his nose again?

  “Other than Jaina, mostly just scrapes and bruises from trying to kill the moth things. Why?”

  “We’ll process the sick and injured as priority. Then we can include Jaina, unless she’d rather stay in quarantine indefinitely than get her head shaved. She’s at that age, you know. Young men are looking.”

  He reached out and fingered the long coil of hair that hung forward over her blue uniform. “Can the old guys look, too?”

  She touched his hand. “I … guess it’ll have to come off, Han.”

  He shrugged. “It’ll grow. It’ll just take a while.”

  “Will you stick around while it does?” She tried not to plead, but she wanted to.

  He ran a hand over his unruly hair. “Hey, someday I might lose mine for good. We’ll call it a dry run.”

  Then he winked, and she melted inside.

  She led back down into the controllers’ cubicle. At the loudspeaking station, she punched in a sharp tone that silenced the roar of outside conversations.

  “Attention, please,” she said. “This is Gateway administration. Welcome. We will try to settle you and meet your needs as quickly as possible. Stand by for a message from your own administrat
or.”

  She pushed the comlink at him.

  “What?” he demanded.

  “Sick and wounded, back to the debarking area,” she muttered. Nerf herder!

  He nodded and echoed the announcement.

  Fifteen minutes later, Leia’s health administrator—fully suited—was explaining priority decontamination to a cluster of Ryn and Vors and five elderly humans.

  Leia stepped back. She didn’t see Jaina. Han had gone out among the Ryn. Frowning, she climbed back up to the lookout perch. It took longer than she anticipated to spot Jaina along the south wall.

  She clambered back down and made her way over. The odd odor of Ryn came from everywhere. She made another mental note: Plain-water baths. And something warm for all those poor Ryn to slip on, after the decontamination crew took their fur.

  Fortunately, the supply ship carrying her mining laser had gotten through. She’d put the new laser to work, deepening the well under her admin building. Fresh, reliable water would be essential, with Pit Thirty-two potentially lost.

  Jaina stood leaning against the south wall.

  “Didn’t you hear the announcement?” Leia asked. “We’re processing anyone sick or wounded first, so we can get them into our medical facility. I’ll walk you through.”

  “Thanks,” Jaina said, “but if Coruscant’s med center couldn’t do anything for me, I doubt yours can.”

  “I can use you,” Leia said, “personally. I’m swamped out there. I have an aide, but by the time everyone here gets out of quarantine, I’ll be so far behind that—”

  Something hard tapped her shoulder. She turned her head and looked up into the blank mask of a chem suit. “What is it, Threepio?”

  “Excuse me, but there is a priority transmission from Bburru waiting on line six,” he told her. “And the report you requested from Dr. Cree’Ar—”

  “That’ll keep,” she told him. “Say hello to Jaina.”

  “Hello, Mistress Jai—”

  “Good to see you, Threepio.” Jaina turned aside and said bluntly, “You’ll never catch up. Not with my help, not with a dozen assistants. That’s because you take on everyone else’s problems. Well, you weren’t there for mine. Not even the military could find you, Mother. I thought you’d finally been caught by some unreconstructed Imperial terrorist, or that the Yuuzhan Vong dropped a moon on you. Jacen and I tried to find you from Thirty-two. What a joke. First we couldn’t get an outsystem connection. When we finally reached SELCORE, we got Viqi Shesh. That was another joke.”