Star Wars_ Children of the Jedi - Barbara Hambly [144]
A bowl of beer came flying through the mess-hall doors and crashed sloppily into the wall.
———
“There has to be an alternative to blowing up the ship.”
“Not one that’s foolproof. Not one that’s chance-proof.”
“It doesn’t need to be proof,” said Luke desperately. “Just … enough. To cripple the motivators. To disengage the guns.”
“Whoever has summoned it—whoever has learned how to manipulate the Force to this extent—is going to come looking for it, Luke. And he—or she—is powerful. I can feel that. I know it.”
Luke knew it, too.
“The station has to be destroyed, Luke. As soon as it can be done. It takes two people, one of them a Jedi … The Jedi uses the Force to interfere with the firing of the enclision grid above the gun room ceiling long enough for the other person to climb. That’s how Geith and I were going to do it. I can tell you, or Cray—whichever one of you is going to do the climbing—which switches to pull, which cores to overload once you get to the top. Whoever stays at the bottom … there’s a mission-log jettison pod in the bay at the end of the corridor by the gun room. I didn’t know about it when Geith—when Geith and I …” Her voice hesitated over the name of the lover who had abandoned her to die. Then she went on. “Anyway, I’ve found it since. It can be fitted with an oxygen bottle and the person who stays at the bottom can make it to that tube, if they run.”
There was silence, shaped by her presence beside him.
“It has to be that way, Luke. You know it, and I know it.”
“Not right away. Eventually, yes, when I’ve had time—”
“There is no time.”
Luke shut his eyes. Everything she said was true. He knew it, and he knew she was aware of it. At last he could only say, “Callista, I love you.”
Who had he said that to? Leia, once, before he’d known … And he loved her still, and in pretty much the same way. This was something he’d never felt, he’d never known that he could feel. “I don’t … want you to die.”
Her mouth on his, her arms around his body … the dream had been real, more real than some experiences of the flesh. There had to be a way …
“Luke,” she said gently, “I died thirty years ago. I’m just … I’m glad we had this time. I’m glad I stayed to … to know you.”
“There has to be a way,” he insisted. “Cray …”
“Cray what?”
Luke turned, sharply, at the new voice. Cray leaned wearily in the door of the office, the silver blanket that half hid her torn and dirty uniform gleaming like armor, the marks of exhaustion and bitterness and the death of hope gouged into her bruised face as if with knives.
“To turn her into what Nichos is? To cannibalize parts from the computers, wire together enough memory to digitalize her, so you can have the metal illusion around to remind you what isn’t yours—and can’t be yours? I can do that … if that’s what you want.”
“You said Djinn Altis showed you—taught you—to transfer your self, your consciousness, your … your reality—to another object. You’ve done it with this ship, Callista. You’re really here, I know you are …”
“I am,” she said softly. “There’s enough circuitry, enough size, enough power in the central core. But a thing of metal, a thing programmed and digitalized, isn’t human, and can’t be human, Luke. Not the way I’m human now.”
“Not the way you and I are human.” Cray came over to them, her blond hair catching fire glints in the greasy light. “Not the way Nichos was human. I should never have done it, Luke,” she went on. “Never have … tried to go up against what had to be. My motto was always ‘If it doesn’t work, get a bigger hammer.’ Or a smaller chip. Nichos …”
She shook her head. “He doesn’t remember dying, Luke. He doesn’t remember a switchover of any kind. And as much as I love … Nichos … as much as he loves me … I keep coming back to that. It isn’t Nichos. He isn’t human. He tries