FULGOR VIRIDIS
By N.P. Jamilla
E-mail: Plurimus@aol.com

Description: The Green Flash. The love story of an Imperial
starfighter pilot and a Lady of an Alderaan noble house. In five
parts.

FULGOR VIRIDIS

I

     "You're not from Alderaan, are you?"
     "How could you tell?"
     I waited for an answer when he turned the down a small road
that led to a large house surrounded by a four foot stone wall, 
grass sitting at its foot recently cut, trees standing in a patch
behind on both sides of the gravel path that took them to the
front of the mansion.
     "Do you want me to bring you all the way in?"
     "What do you think?"
     "Just asking."  He turned into drive past the open gates. 
"That shows you're not Alderaanian."
     "It's my accent isn't it," I said.
     "If I had to judge you on your accent, I'd have guessed you
actually lived in this house."
     "You mean I'm rich or have an educated accent?"
     "Both!"  We stopped at the porch.
     "How do I pay?" I asked.
     "Slip your card in the slot."
     "What slot?"
     "In the back of the seat."
     "I suppose that gives me away too as an off-worlder."
     "I suppose so."  The debit machine beeped.  "There you go. 
All paid for."  The door opened automatically. "I thank you for
your business."
     Well, yes," I said, momentarily thinking about what made me
different from native Alderaanians.
     "It was a pleasure..."
     "Pleasure's all mine."
     I stepped out of the cab up the wooden steps.  The porch was
wide and empty, green and trimmed with salmon pink: windows
reflected the grass, flowers and bushes planted around the
building.  I approached the red door, pulled open the screen
door, and looked for a doorbell to ring.  In the center was a
metal knocker.  Swinging it twice I stepped back and released the
screen d oor, which snapped silently closed.  There were
footsteps, a scampering pitter-patter, more footsteps, and then
scratching as a lady's voice told the animal to step away from
the door.
     The door cracked open, the red receding into the darkness of
the inner dimness.  An older lady with soft skin, blue eyes, and
straight, silver hair scanned me from head to toe.  She wore a
burgundy dress of a light, airy fabric; it was tied at the waist
by a sash that hung at her right side.
     "Dan'na mar," I said.
     "Dan'na mar," she replied, looking at me queerly before
opening the screen door.  She extended her hand, which I took and
held to my forehead.
     "Please come in," she said in Cantavin, the dialect of the
Alderean capital region.  I walked inside and looked at a
monstrous hound that sat  four feet tall several feet away from
us.  With long spindly legs, short, brown fur, and a snout that
drooped sligtly along his mouth, it sniffed me once and then
turned carefully toward its ladymaster.
     "This is Mastaffon," she said gesturing to the dog.  A laugh
erupted before I realized what I had done.
     "Is that funny?" she asked.
     "No," I said, "it's just that I'm not used to being
introduced to a dog.  Especially one of his size, and one worthy
of such a name as Mastaffon."
     "You are familiar with Mastaffon?"
     "The leader of Mahrrites when they liberated Aldera from the
High Priest of...?"
     "Of the High Church," she finished.  "You do know something
of our planet's history."
     "I studied here as a child."
     "As a child."
     "For four years when I was eight."
     "Interesting."
     I turned toward her and stood more formally, hesitating,
wondering whether to greet her as an officer in the Imperial
Fleet or as a native Alderaanian.
     "I am BenAvelar of Bl‚nor."  I bowed my head, opening my
right hand in respect for her age.
     "And I am Suzanna of the Household of Fahr.  You may call me
Mrs. Suzanna."
     "I am honored."
     "As am I," she said, turning and gesturing me to follow. 
The hound held its place as we walked into a reception room. 
Couches made a square in the middle of a sunken floor. Steps led
to the bottom where an oak table sat in the center.  On the
landing against the back wall were four high windows that reached
like needles toward the wood-vaulted ceiling.  The hound followed
us into the room and sat near the door.
     "You are familiar with our customs on Alderaan.  It is
altogether rare that even an Alderaanian would greet me in the
Ancient Tongue."
     "I thought it appropriate, Mrs. Suzanna."
     "Because my husband died."
     "It is not the proper way to greet a widow when one would
have originally come to visit her husband."
     "It is," she answered in a voice deep and strong, "but only
Elders use those manners."
     "Is it improper?"
     "Not at all."
     "Then, have I offended in any other way?"
     "Not in the least," she said motioning me to sit.  "It's
just very unusual to meet an Imperial Fleet officer at your front
door.  Especially one who greets you as might be expected of a
member of an Alderean household."
     "My father was a diplomat.  I assumed the greeting I was
taught would be proper."
     "Times change," she said, looking at me silently.  Eyes
strong as diamond cut deep into my mind, reading, as much as was
possible, the emotion of my silent posture.
     "Could I get you a drink?"  She had clapped her hands, but
before I could answer a servant appeared.
     "Branderian ale?" the servant asked.
     "Perfect suggestion," Mrs. Susanna said, looking to me for
approval.
     "That would be nice."
     A moment passed, and then another.  The servant appeared and
offered me a drink of a clear blue liquid.  Mrs. Suzanna leaned
back, glass in hand, and took a long sip.  She looked up.  "And
what was it you desired from my husband?  You know he would have
disapproved meeting an Imperial soldier at his home."  Her
forwardness was unexpected.
     "I am also an astronomer, like your husband."  She did not
seem impressed. "And I have had a great interest in something
that was important to him."
     "What might that be?"
     "The green flash."
     "Green flash?  You are a strange bird, BenAvelar.  I have
not heard mention of the green flash for some twenty years.  Do
you know what kind of excitement the green flash created in our
lives?"  The enthusiasm bubbled in the smile that came to her
face.  Her hands sprung up, a drink in one hand, as she stood up,
setting it down on the table.  Walking up the steps, Mrs. Suzanna
began to pace a small circle in front of the windows.  The ears
on the hound perked up; its head followed her across the room. 
"Those were exciting times," she said, folding her arms.  She
stopped.  I almost stood up, but she motioned me to stay seated.
     "I'm delighted I come with a subject that brings out so much
passion in you."
     "And a passion it is," she mused.  She moved into the light
from the window andlooked up to the sun, closing her eyes.  I set
my drink down and approached her side.
     "I was wondering..."
     "Follow me, BenAvelar," she said, turning down a hall. 
"Mastaffon," she called. "Come!"
     We went up some stairs into a carpeted hall and approached a
door at the far end. 
"Mastaffon, stay!" She opened it and motioned me to climb the
metal circular stairs.  The light came on when we entered the
room.  "I'm afraid it has been a long time."  I brushed aside
some of the cobwebs and took the first steps.  The railing was
covered by a thick layer of dust.
     "You'll need to open the trap door at the top."  I braced
myself and pushed the door open.  It swung up, hinges squeeking,
and then dropped down to the floor, sending a small cloud of dust
curling over the three edges of the door.  After stepping up, I
helped Mrs. Suzanna into the room.
     "Maybe ten years since I was last here."  I looked around
for a switch.
     "Here it is," she said.  Bulbs along an open circular room
flicked on.
     "An observatory!"  Next to us was the telescope, a large
metal cylinder held at an angle vertically toward the spherical
space above us.  There began a humming, and then the floor, along
with the apparatus, began to turn.  Mrs. Suzanna was at a control
box at one side of the room flipping more switches.  The floor
stopped moving with a loud clang.  Her silver hair stood out
against the dark wood of the observatory walls.
     "This is where Theor, my husband, made his first
obseravations.  And against that wall, you can see the cameras he
used for his book."  She stepped away from the controls and up
the dozen steps that led to the eyepiece.  She peering into the
eye hole and closing one eye, she steadied her head.  "I always
wondered why he didn't use monitors, like we do these days.
     "From being in space, Mrs. Suzanna, I can tell you that
there's no substitute for looking at the stars with the naked
eye."  A smile came to her lips.  I didn't actually see it, but
from the wrinkle of her forehead, it couldn't have been anything
else.  "Is there a way to open the doors?"
     "Over on the control panel."  I pushed the button and a
panel in the dome slid slowly to the side.  The sliver of the
blue sky opened into a large triangle.  Several clouds moved
from one corner to another.  "It's a beautiful day.  Come here!"  
She stepped from the telescope to metal stairs that followed the
wall up to the window.  I followed her to the top which gave us
an unbroken view of the countryside to the east of the village. 
"Watch this." She pushed a button on the railing: the dome turned
first away from thevillage, stopped, and then reversed direction.
     "It's nice," I said. We were pressed against each other to
get a view.
     "Theor and I used to come up here in the daytime and pick
out the different buildings in town.  Can you see that one there? 
That's the town hall.  We used to go there for lunch. They have a
wonderful restaurant."
     "I had lunch there today."
     "You did?  What did you have."
     "Just a sandwich: beef and cheese."
     "Oh, I'm sorry.  I forgot to offer you something to eat. 
And where is your drink?"
     "It's downstairs -- next to yours in the reception room."
     "Well, it doesn't matter."  She pointed to the town again. 
"Can you see the church steeple?  It looks like an onion bulb."
     "Yes, I see it."  She looked at me.
     "You have a nice smile for an Imperial soldier."
Embarrassment rushed to my head.
     "I don't know what to say?"
     "Don't say anything.  Just be thankful you do."  I thanked
her.  Her body felt warm.  "Oh, my.  What time is it?"
     "I think it's a little after three."
     "It is getting late," she said, stepping back.  "I'm sorry,
Mr..."
     "BenAvelar."
     "I'm going to have to leave you.  I have another
engagement."
     "I understand." She descended the stairs, pushed the button
to close the observation window, and then hurried down the
trapdoor.
     "Don't forget the lights, and lock the door tight."  We went
back to the reception room.  Our drinks had been taken and the
hound had removed himself to the foot of a couch. "I apologize
for being so abrupt."
     "Do you think we'll be able to meet again?" I asked.  "I
didn't really have a chance to talk to you about your husband's
work."
     "How about next week?"
     "I'm afraid I won't be here."
     "Friday?"
     "I'm not sure."
     "Tomorrow then?"
     "I'd like that."  She turned to look out the window into the
courtyard.
     "Then please come again at noon.  We shall have lunch
together."
     "Thank you."  She turned and walked me to the front door.
The door shut when I realized that I didn't have transportation
into the city.  There was a noise from the road: the taxi speeder
that had brought me earlier was coming up the drive.
     "How did you know to come and pick me up now?" I asked.
     "I was waiting at the gates."
     "Is that all you do all day?"
     "Yup, that's the way we do it here on Alderaan."
     "And you didn't say anything before?"
     "You didn't ask.  And besides, an Alderaanian doesn't have
to ask.  If he didn't need me, he'd have said so."

II

     The green flash.  A kind of interstellar occurrance which,
for hundreds of years had remained a footnote in history.  I saw
it on my first trip on a geosynchronous hotel high above my
homeworld.  The sun was about to set.  It was evening and from
what I had been told by my parents and teacher, the sun would
seem even brighter in the sky than it did on the planet's
surface.  Even as a child of six, I knew enough to hold out my
hand in front of me at arm's length, shielding my eyes from the
danger of the sun's rays.  I peeked before I should have and saw
the most amazing thing: just before the sun had vanished there
was a momentary flash of green light.  My older sister, FayLynn,
saw it too, but that was the only time she ever did.
     Several years later I saw the green flash again.  I was on
Alderaan this time.  And as I did in the space station, I held my
hand out in front of me just as the sun began to set.
     As a cadet at the Imperial Academy there had never been
mention of the green flash either from my textbooks or my
professor, so I asked.  None of them had heard about the
phenomenon until one year, when an astronomy professor casually
mentioned references to it from his research.  I asked if he had
ever seen it.  To which he replied that the only significance the
green flash seemed to bring about was whether it was a physical
event or just an optical illusion created by the proximity of
interstellar bodies.  "Like when the moonlooks bigger when it's
near the horizon than in the middle of the sky," he said.  It was
then I told him that it wasn't an illusion, but objective
reality.  "I had seen it with my own eyes as a child.  In space!"
He looked at me with suspicious eyes, and then a laugh. 
"Children seen many things," he said, and then changed the
subject.
     Embarrassed, I never brought the subject up again.  It
stayed a secret. Upon commission, after I'd found assignments off
world, I decided to try and prove what I had seen.  I took my
camera to the observation decks of space stations I visited. 
Everyone commented on how fun it was to take pictures.  And most
of all, they would make a patronizing quip about the danger of
photographing the sun.
     I'd set the camera on a tripod, the direction and time of
the sunset already programmed, so that a series of pictures would
be taken at the moment the sun disappeared.  They were not always
successful.  There was always some displacement of the spacecraft
in relation to the planet and the sun which continually worked to
ruin the sophistication of the camera's modern technology.  By
far the best photographs I've gotten were made in an observatory
on Coruscant where the constant of the planet's gravitational
pull was strong enough to give me an accurate fix on the moment
of sunset.
     Since talking to that professor I had only once told anyone
else what I was doing.  My elder by five years, FayLynn didn't
even remember the first time we had seen the green flash.  I
showed her my photographs which numbered into the hundreds;
photos from all over the galaxy.  Her only comment was that maybe
there was a problem with my equipment.
     "Did you use the same camera every time?"  I denied there
was anything wrong with the pictures.  Her response to that was
that maybe there was a "misstep" in the developing process.  "The
hell there is," I said defiantly.  Needless-to-say, I never went
back to her again with the same confidence.  My trust in her had
become tainted, the result of the belittling of something I held
to myself, unrevealed to no one except her.  She did not
recognize the significance the green flash had to my
psychological well-being.  It was a betrayal of a childhood
secret, and her indifference and lack of apparent understanding
cut deep into the heart.  Saddened and depressed by the
encounter, I never fully recovered from her rejection.
     And then, one day, I came upon a reference about the green
flash to a book published by Suzanna's husband.  An entire book! 
A monograph on the green flash!  Stealing hours from regular duty
assignments, I tried for weeks to locate his book.  No references
even existed to the green flash, but finally, after searching an
index on the collection of Atmospheric data from refraction of a
planet's atmosphere when the sun is low on the horizon, I found
it.  Despite its long title, this book contained a short list of
papers and a bibliography.  The book was held by the Archive of
the High Church of Alderaa.  It had never been considered worthy
of interstellar publication and was published by the High
Church's own press.
     That was one year ago when the climate between Alderaan and
the Imperial Government had reached a diplomatic low. 
Ambassadorial relations were on the verge of being severed.  It
was out of the question for me, an Imperial starfighter ace, to
visit the world in even an unofficial capacity.  The Ascension
Incident, when the Emperor insulted the Organa family when he
remained seated at the moment when Princess Leia entered the High
Council Chamber, infuriated the Alderaan Noble Houses that they
began a movement to sever diplomatic links with the Senate.
     Lord Darth Vader quelled their anger through a series of
consultations and averted the proroguing of the Senate.  Time
after time, it was Vader, as he had done in the Republican
Senate, who brought opposing factions to compromise in the
Imperial Senate.  And with the increasing prestige of the Emperor
around the galaxy, Rebel Alliance activity had been on a steep
decline in recent months.  Maybe for good, and the good of the
Empire.
     It was not until one month ago that it became possible to
visit Alderaan.  Dr. Theor's book was somewhere on the planet,
and I was determined to find it, if not obtain a copy for my
self.  Access to Alderean information networks had been
prohibited for several months, so after a lot of effort arranging
leave and obtaining proper permissions I made it to the planet to
begin my research.
     Against better judgment, I started at Alderaan University
thinking I would be able to find Theor's book in the regular
stacks.  Most of catalog terminals could be accessed in
Coruscant, but I found myself spending more time translating the
Coruscant into my native BlŒnorean than I was researching. 
Coruscant had been the official language at the Imperial Academy,
but I can only lament my constant reliance on translators as a
cadet.  After two days of struggling on my own, I finally
approached one of the librarians.  I explained my search in my
best Cantavin.
     She found the title in a directory of astronomical papers. 
It was written in the Ancient Tongue which was cataloged in
separate data bases.
     "Your cite is a translation of the Ancient into Cantavin. 
That's why you weren't able to find it in the catalog.  It's
rather unusual for modern scientists to write in the Ancient
Tongue."
     "What language to they use?" I asked.
     "Coruscant."
     "Why do you think the doctor used the Ancient Tongue?"
     "I don't know for sure.  Maybe he's an eccentric?  You know
scientists have a strange reputation on Alderaan?"
     "Why's that?"
     "We Alderaanians are an old people with a strong oral
tradition.  Of course we have books and computers, but in many
circles -- especially among the aristocracy -- the advent of such
technologies was considered a threat to traditional culture.  The
diplomat and the statesman are admired for their education, while
the scientist is known more as a classifier surrounded by stacks 
of texts that do not require him to memorize."
     "What is the point of memorizing everything?"
     "We have a saying on Alderaan: To know in the heart is to
truly know.  Studying from books is what a child does in school,
but experience is the greatest teacher, and it is this wisdom of
experience that gives Alderean diplomats their reputation."
     "And what about this book?  Why do you think he wrote it in
the Ancient Tongue?"
     "I don't know."
     "Well, does the library have a copy of the book?"  He looked
at the screen for a second.
     "No, I'm sorry.  But there is another reference: the library
at the High Church." 
     "I already have that reference."
     "They why didn't you go there first?"
     "I thought it might be easier to get it here."
     "Well, obviously it wasn't.  A suggestion."
     "Yes?"
     "Since the book is written in the Ancient you won't be able
to read any of it without a translator.  First you'll have to
scan the text into a computer, then get a program to translate it
into Cantavin, and finally translate that into Coruscant or
whatever language you speak.  May I ask where it is you are
from?"
     "BlŒnor."
     "You should be able to find a Cantavin-BlŒnor translator
quite easily.  Try a shop in Inner Alderaa, near the High
Church."
     The following day I went to the High Church in the center of
the city.  It's high, bulbuous steeple towered high above the
other buildings.  All of the buildings were of a white-wash.  An
unofficial pecking order was established by the height of the
building in relation to the others.  The High Church rose above
the municipal hall and every other building below that.  I wasn't
sure how religious the Alderaanians were, nor whether their faith
was customary or genuine.  A capital is always a testament to the
values of the culture, but it was always questionable whether
those values were held by the people.
     Without announcement I entered the High Church.  Some
seventy meters high, the latice work of wooden beams
criss-crossed the ceiling with complicated symmetry.  Wood was
not used in the facades of any buildings in the capital, so its
sheer volume in the interior was overwhelming.
     I made my way to the back where I was greeted by a priest
dressed in ordinary clothes and who walked with a strange gait,
as if he'd suffered some injury.
     I explained my purpose, and then without a word he walked
into another room and came back with another priest whom he
introduced as the resident archivist.  He greeted me in the
Ancient Tongue, the language of their church, and then took me
into the library which we reached by elevator.  It looked more
like an arboretum than a library: a glass structure reached high
above, permitting the sun to penetrate into the spaciousness of
the room.  Books were piled high in stacks horizontally, terminal
and keyboards at tables, and several tables in one corner.  It
was strangely quiet and empty.  With the light passing through
the glass, the feeling of the place was rather cheerful, though
the archivist never let on that it made him happy to be here.    His closest approximation to a
smile were quick upward
flicks of the corners of his mouth.
     At a terminal he keyed in a few commands which brought up
screens in a language I didn't recognize.
     "Is this Cantavin?" I asked.
     "The Ancient Tongue."
     "Is you whole catalog in the Ancient Tongue?"  He pushed a
button and it switched to Cantavin.  He pushed it again.
     "It is more difficult for me to find your citation if I use
Cantavin."  He continued to reference through files.  "Yes.  Here
is your book."
     "Wonderful."
     "But I have bad news."
     "What's wrong?"
     "We no longer have this treatise.  It was returned to the
doctor's wife upon his death."
     "Is that the normal procedure?"
     "In this case the High Priest made the decision himself."
     "Is is possible to talk to his High Priest?"  He raised an
eyebrow.
     "It was the High Priest who brought me to you."
     "You mean the person I first met."
     "I guess it is difficult for off-worlders to understand the
High Priest's role as patron of the people.  His primary function
is to greet the religious who visit our church."
     "Why didn't he say anything."
     "He doesn't need to.  Everyone knows."
     "You do know that the doctor is buried here in the crypt."
     "No, I didn't."
     "I will take you in a moment."  Just then a young boy in a
religious tunic approached and handed the priest a note which he
read.  He looked up when he finished.
     "You never mentioned anything about being an Imperial
starfighter pilot."
     "I am here in an unofficial capacity."
     "Then you are not doing research for the Empire."
     "I am here for personal research.  I apologize for not being
more truthful with you before."
     "No need for apology," the corners of his mouth flicked. 
"It does not matter to me.  Those things are more for politicians
and diplomats to deal with."
     "Do I create any special problem for the High Priest or the
church?"
     "If you did, we wouldn't be speaking now.  But a word of
advice: do not let regular people know who you are.  Ordinary
citizens of Alderaan do not have a great affection these days for
Imperials.  There is little love for the Empire here."
     "Then what about you and other church members."
     "In my experience, I have learned to judge individuals on
their own merits."  He looked down at his computer and then
clicked off the screen.
     "Are we finished?"
     "Just about. Come," he said standing.  We walked toward the
elevator.  "I'll take you to the crypt."  The door closed and we
descended to the subterranean levels of the main church.  Like
the outside of the city, the walls were white; small lamps shed
light through the passages and corridors we traveled.
     The crypt was of stone with several metal markers fixed to
stone slabs that rested horizontally in niches one above the
other.  "Here," he pointed to the upper slab, "this is the
doctor's."
     "What does the writing say?  It looks like the Ancient
Tongue."
     "'There is light.'"
     "That's all?  What does it mean?"
     "In our Scripture, a passage speaks of the light as the life
of the universe; the love of God."
     "That is a common belief throughout the universe."
     "That is correct.  But maybe the translation might be better
rendered in Coruscant as  Lar, Lalaren.'"
     "I have lived?"
     "'I have lived, I live, and shall live on.'  That would be
the full meaning in the Ancient Tongue."  I looked at the words
inscribed on the doctor's marker.  The priest stepped back as I
touched the letters.  When I finished, the priest walked me back
to the elevator.  We entered.
     "The doctor and the High Priest were very good friends."
     "They were?"
     "And on the several occasions I met him, I was always
impressed with his energy and drive.  He often came to the
library and would use our facilities."
     "Did he use the Ancient Tongue?"
     "I believe so.  He was a very traditional man."
     "Were you very close to him?"
     "No.  I merely assisted him in his work.  Since the High
Priest is always at our front door, he would greet the doctor. 
He even accompanied him to the library.  As you know our
elevators are slow, and I don't suppose that many hours
accumulated over the years from those trips."
     "I would think the High Priest a very busy person greeting
as many visitors that come to the church."
     "Alas, there are few visitors these days.  Alderaanians do
not look to the church for spiritual guidance very much.  And
before that, they used to look to the heavens, to space for their
inspiration.  Are you familiar with Alderaan's spacefaring
history?"
     "I am acquainted with it, but not familiar."
     "Alderaan is a planet in a Collision Cluster Galaxy: one
galaxy passes through another creating an expanding ring of stars
that move centrifugally away from the vortex.  Oh, yes.  You know
that.  You are an astronomer like the doctor.
     "When we developed the ability for deep space journeys we
were were amazed to discover life on other planets.   Can you
imagine the excitement we felt finding existing bipedal
civilizations on other plants in the galaxy?  When the first
galaxy had passed through ours, it distributed the "stuff" of the
universe in a symetrical pattern so that in areas equidistant
from the vortex, patterns of life arose similar to our own.  It
wasn't all good news, however, as planet and peoples began to
develop their own ideas of how each planet would interact with
its neighbors.  Amazingly enough, none of the planets denied the
brotherhood of the peoples that had developed in our galaxy.  Too
much had been similar and not coincidental: the way life was
generated on each planet, the steps in the development of our
civilizations, and even the very sky above us was the same.  It
is out of this context that Alderaan came to be the home of some
of the greatest diplomats in the universe.  There is much to be
proud of on Alderaan -- and Alderaanians are a proud race -- but
there is also a humbleness about us as well.  You won't see it in
the ordinary person, but among the elites of the planet it is a
trait valued by our people.  The doctor was like that, he was a
very humble person."
     "Humbleness is a very peculiar trait."
     "It is an Alderaanian virtue."
     "Yes.  But spending most of my life in Imperial City, or on
BlŒnor even, humbleness feels to me like a very weak affection."
     "Are not the religious of BlŒnor humble?"
     "They are, and until now I never knew the strength in it."
The elevator stopped and we walked to the entrance where we met
the High Priest sitting at a desk.  I thanked the librarian.
     "When you do get a copy of the doctor's book, bring it back
so that it may be translated for you.  It is a rare event that a
book of such personal importance fails to find a place in our
archive."  We shook hands and he left. The High Priest smiled and
then handed me an envelope.
     "What is this?"
     "The address of the doctor's wife.  You will find what you
are looking for with her.  She will expect you some time
tomorrow."  I looked down and took the letter.  The priest had
taken the precaution of verifying my background, and I stood
uncertain as to whether I should not apologize for not revealing
myself as a soldier of the Empire.
     "BenAvelar, you are always welcome to the High Church, and
as my brother has said, you must visit when you have your book." 
I wanted to speak with him more; about the doctor, but I found
myself shaking hands and then departing.

III

     A knock.
     The door opens.
     And a smile.
     "Come in. We're just about ready to sit down.  You didn't
eat, did you?"
     "That would've spoiled things."  I walked through the
reception room and into a kitchen.  In the back, like at High
Church, was a wall of glass that opened into the court yard. 
Turning a knob on a door in the glass wall, she called my name. 
I walked past one of the servants and then took a seat at a metal
table that sat in the center of a wooden deck.  Above us was a
trellis of vines that shielded our table from the midday sun. The
servant came from the kitchen and asked if I wanted a drink.
     "Anything would be fine."
     "How about a Viridean Score," Suzanna said from the chair
across from me.
     "What's that?"
     "I guess it's Alderaan's version of a martini."  She was a
alive with energy, like a song was moving through her body, every
word she spoke a lyric, every gesture a note, and the pulse of
her heart the beat that held the music together.  She was
enchanting.  Birds chirped around us, and even the bushes and
plants that followed the edge of the house seemed alive with
motion.  It had rained earlier that morning and the green of the
grass, from the foot of the house to the trees growing in the
distance, imbued the very air with an energy barely describable.
     "Are you alright, BenAvelar? You look distracted."
     "Uh, no.  I'm fine."  I looked towards the trees. "It's just
that I never expected to see this large an estate."
     "The front of the house was meant to give that impression. 
I don't know if its a particularly Alderean thing, but landscape
is very dear to the heart of my planet's people."
     "I know Alderaan is famous for its great plains of grass and
flowers."
     "Have you ever been on any of the skimmers."
     "Yes, but when I was a child.  My parents were fond of
aerial platforms.  Alderean skimmers are very much like
free-floating dirigibles, aren't they?  I had many opportunities
to stay in orbiting space-stations; above BlŒnor, Ord Mandel,
even on Coruscant."
     "I hope your not comparing Alderaan to Coruscant." 
     "I'm sorry.  I am not.  It's just that..."
     "Please don't apologize, BenAvelar.  I didn't mean it that
way."
     "More than in any other place, I find myself constantly
apologizing for whatever I say or do."
     "It's not like that in the Imperial Fleet, is it?"
     "No.  Quite the opposite, really.  I would get into a lot of
trouble if I made any excuse."
     "Then Alderaan and the Imperial Fleet do share something in
common."  The servant brought us our drinks.
     "We live in such different worlds."
     "I suppose we do."  She took a sip of her drink and then
looked out toward the fields.  "You know, Mrs. Suzanna..."
     "Why don't you call me Suzanna."
     "...I feel a bit strange being here."
     "Why is that?"
     "I not exactly sure why."
     "And you haven't even tasted the cooking."
     "It's that for a long time I've been interested in the green
flash -- it's been like a personal secret that I've kept all my
life.  And to find out that someone -- like your husband -- had
an even greater interest in it than I did is -- unsettling."  I
swallowed my entire drink. "These are very good."  She asked for
another one to be brought to me.
     "Mr. BenAvelar... or do you say Mr. Avelar."
     "My friends call me Ben."
     "Ben.  Do you know where my husband first saw the green
flash?"
     "No, I don't."
     "In the High Church in Alderaa."
     "I was just there a few days ago."
     "Yes, I know.  In the upper chamber that the priests now use
as a study.  It used to be an observatory, like my husband's. 
They call it the Room of the Songs because when the wind blows it
causes an unusual phenomenon: a kind of melodic wind song.  No
one knows exactly how it happens -- it's the shape of the tower,
of course -- but in terms of how the noise is made, no one has
ever been able to reproduce it.  They say it has something to do
with the season, the structure of the city and its buildings, and
who knows what.  That's why the structure of inner Alderaa does
not change."
     "Can the noise be heard outside of the room?"
     "It can be heard in the square at the base of the church,
but they say there is nothing like hearing the noise from within
the room."
     "You said there is a telescope in that room."
     "It used to be an observatory, but there is too much light
around Alderaa now, not to mention space stations with better
views of the universe."
     "And your husband?"
     "Oh, I almost forgot.  Theor first saw the green flash from
one of the room's windows.  He became so excited that he began
work on his book almost immediately.  His first photographs were
made using that telescope.  He was a changed man after that."
     "In what way?"
     "Every way?  I don't know exactly how to put it: he became
excited and filled with life.  He ate better, began exercising,
and we made love like we never had before.  You see, here on
Alderaan, the aristocracy still believes in arranged marriages. 
I did meet Theor several times before we were married, but in
terms of personality I had little idea of what he was like. 
Friends of mine spent time with him, but what they told me wasn't
very encouraging.  Ever since I was young, I'd been told that I
would come to love him in time.  I didn't like to take that kind
of chance, and there were many times when I'd rather have ended
it all, but we stayed the course.  And I did come to love him,
and he me."  She took another sip from her glass.
     "What else was he like?"
     "He didn't like Imperials," she said with a desperate smile.
"But he was a good man."
     "Why didn't he like the Empire?  Was the Republic better? 
I'm sorry I am not so familiar with Alderaan's history, but I
don't understand how the corruption in the Republican Senate
could be any better than the Imperial Senate is now."
     "You bring up a difficult subject."  She called for the
servant to bring our lunch: soup first, a hot meal, and then
coffee.
     "I apologize."
     "Please don't apologize.  I don't know much about politics,
but imperial policies affected Alderaan very personally.  During
the Clone Wars, Alderean soldiers had a reputation like
that of the diplomats of our world.  In those days, Jedi Knights
were common sights in Alderaa; an understood exchange took place
between the soldiers of Alderaan and the Jedi.  We taught them
our martial arts, while they taught our sons and daughters the
wisdom of their order: their aesthetics, their lore, their secret
arts.  It was this union that made the disarmament of Alderaan at
all possible.  It was not difficult to convince the children of
Alderaan's aristocracy the merits of the Jedi proposal.  The Jedi
had taught our children.
     "After the Clone Wars, there was an incident on NelKelorn
that will be remembered by Noble Houses of Alderaan.  To
guarantee Nel Kelorn's joining the Republican charter, a force of
volunteers was to be sent to the planet as a sign of the Senate's
commitment.  Alderean soldiers were the first to volunteer.  When
they arrived on the planet, the shuttle of three hundred
Alderaanians, representatives of every Noble House, were taken
hostage.  The Nel Kelornians were not interested in peace, nor in
joining league with the Republic.  They executed every last
Alderaanian.  The person responsible was the Emperor, Palpatine,
before he was elected.  Theor held the Emperor personally
responsible.  We lost our only son on Nel Kelorn."
     It was impossible to hide her sadness; but she tried, with a
smile.  She held it as long as she could, as long as was
necessary.  "They don't tell that story at the Imperial Academy,"
she said.
     "And all this time, Alderaan has never made known what
happened?"
     "It is our way, Ben.  We do not subject our family to
outside scrutiny.  The tragedy of the story does not console an
Alderaanian.  We will not flaunt their deaths, but we shall
remember.  They were our children."  Her head had bowed for a
moment, and then she looked up.  "Come, let us eat our meal and
then give thanks for what we do have."
     We ate the meal slowly and continued to sip on Viridean
Scores.  She recounted more stories about her husband.  Apart 
from the subject of her son, Suzanna was a cheerful person.  Her
smile was as genuine as her voice was clear, distinct, and
strong.  She loved her husband, and in time she would come to
regard her husband in the same way she did her son; with a
clarity and focus of a true religious vision. 
     I found it difficult not to listen to her as she spoke.  It
seemed like she hadn't talked much to anyone since here husband's
death six months ago, and for someone as beautiful as she, this
was the tragedy in her husband's death.  There was a peace
between us that I hadn't felt in a very long time.
     "And tell me about yourself.  I have told you probably
everything there is to know about me, and yet all I know is that
you are a pilot of what... a TIE fighter in the Imperial Fleet. 
I know you can't be all that bad; you've put up with a rambling
old woman."
     "You are hardly old?  What mid-forties?"
     "Mid-fifties," she said, obviously pleased, but sophisticated
enough not to belittle my honesty with embarrassment.
     "What is your story, BenAvelar?"
     "Ben."
     "Ben." She leaned back in her chair as the servant brought
us coffee.
     "I don't know where to begin?"
     "How about your age?"
     "Late thirties."
     "Married?"
     "Single for 5 years."
     "But never married."
     "Never."
     "And no children?"  I shook my head.
     "You make me laugh," I said.
     "And why's that?"
     "Well, you aren't the kind of person I'd expected to meet."
     "What did you expect?"
     "I didn't expect anything.  I had never thought I'd be
sitting at a table with a lady like you talking about the green
flash."
     "And we've hardly even touched that subject.  Why is it that
the green flash is so important to you?"
     "I don't know.  Why was it important to your husband?"
     "I don't know."
     "It's a strange subject," I admitted.
     "I don't think so.  For some reason it was a passion in my
husband's life that changed him.  Please, Ben," she said standing
up, "let me show you the book you came across the galaxy to see."
     We went into the kitchen and through the house, passing the
still seated Mastaffon in the reception room.  We went into a
remote part of the house and into a room situated at the corner
of the building overlooking the trees at one edge of the field.
     "This is where my husband used to work when he wasn't away
doing research."
     "What kinds of things was he working on?"
     "I'm not sure.  Star things.  You, being an astronomer like
him, I couldn't be half as concise as you'd like me to be, nor
twice that in generalization.  I've long given up trying to
understand what it is about the stars that astronomers study. 
They're there, and you're here, I used to say to him, meaning
that if I'd just accept him, as he accepted the stars, for what
he was, warts and all, as you say in Coruscant, then we'd get
along.  And we did."
     "And is that all he did?  Astronomy?  He didn't run
business?"
     "We in the aristocracy are well taken care of here on
Alderaan.  Our family has never been lacking in funds, and Theor
has dedicated his entire life to pursuing astronomical studies. 
He's traveled quite a bit, has often taught at Alderaan
University, and has been in contact with other scientists all of
his life."  She came to a bookcase and pulled open the two glass
doors.
     "Here it is.  Fulgor Viridis.  The Green Flash.  It's never
been translated into Cantavin; no one would buy it.  So at great
expense he had it published himself."
     "I've only been able to locate citations to the book, but
neither the university nor the High Church Archive had it.  Is
this the one the High Priest had given you?"
     "You know, I'm not sure.  His stuff must be here somewhere." 
She took the book to set on top of a desk positioned to look out
the window into the grassy lawn.  Bound in cloth, about
thirty centimeters by thirty, and covered in dust, Suzanna laid
the book  in the center of the desk. "I'll let you do the
honors."
     I stepped forward and put my hands on the cover, turning it
open and then flipping through one page at a time.  I didn't
recognize any of the characters; the Ancient Tongue didn't even
use numerals. I took a few pages in my hand and turned to the
first inset of photographs.  There was a composite of four
photographs of the sun setting.  The top was a thin crescent of
amber. The next, the upper bulb with a redish-orange corona.  The
third, a yellow sliver with a green corona.  And the last, a thin
slice of green before the sun disappeared completely.
     "You don't know how hard it is to take these pictures," I
told Suzanna.  "The skies have to be perfectly clear, it has to
be the right time of the year, and then to get the timing so that
consecutive photographs are taken.  It's hard enough to capture
the phenomenon itself, but then to obtain the color quality is
extremely difficult."
     "That's what Theor used to say."  She stepped next to me and
flipped pages further in the book.  Her hands reached past mine.
     Our bodies were touching, the side of her arm leaning snugly
against my chest.  Her head was tilted down, her attention fixed
completely on the book.  She wore perfume; her hair smelled of
flowers. For the first time I could see the features of her
profile; they seemed perfect in every way.  I don't know what
possessed me, but suddenly the attraction was overpowering.
Pressed against her body, I reached down for her hands.  She
released the book, turned toward me, and looked deep into my
eyes.  Her arms wrapped around me; mine against hers. She pressed
the side of her head against my chest and we held each other
tightly; body against body, fire against fire, passion embraced.

IV


     Something had happened to me from the first instant I had
entered Suzanna's house.  I don't know what, but it was clear
that the person who had stepped into her home was significantly
different than the person who had left.  One moment I was sharing
my deepest secret with a person I'd just met, and then I am
making love to her with a passion so pure and full that it did
not matter that I kept any secret.  They weretrivial in
comparison to the completeness I felt when we were lying in bed
together.
     I looked at her; her head on my shoulder, a hand on my
chest. Enraptured, I found it hard to believe how beautiful she
had become with age: every line in her face, the color of her
eyes, the white sheen of her hair.  All evolved into a loveliness
I had never seen in any woman of much greater youth.  And like a
quiet tune, or a magnificent painting, the beat of her heart and
the rhythm of our love touched our canvas as if a master's hand
were guiding the brushstroke of our souls.
     She was next to me, the whole of her body wrapped my length. 
She was warm.  I held her and then looked down to see her eyes
open.  I was swimming in the moment, and she too was as peace.  I
stared at the ceiling for a moment to consider whether I was
wrong, whether it was wrong of me to have started what I had
done.
     "How are you doing?"
     "Fine," she said, clinging even closer.
     "I mean -- are you okay?  About us?"  She looked up and
kissed me on the cheek.
     "Are you?"
     "I don't know?  That depends on you.  How do you feel?"
     "I'm fine."
     "You don't feel guilty, do you?"
     "About what?"
     "About us."
     "My, you still are young.  I feel fantastic.  As if I were
your age."
     "My age."
     "Is that a problem?" she asked.  I closed me eyes.  "Ben,
just stop a second and think about us making love."  I did as she
said.  "And does that make you uncomfortable?"
     "No."
     "Then keep that feeling. Savor it, and let it guide you. 
That is how you feel about us.  Now what do you feel?"
     "Goodness.  And peace."  I closed my eyes once again.  "And
what about your husband?  Doesn't that make any difference?"
     "Yes, it does."
     "And you don't feel any guilt?"
     "When you first held me in my arms I thought about Theor. 
About what he would think.  And then I thought about the
differences in our age."
     "And is that a problem?"
     "No."
     "And your husband."
     "I remember, as he was dying, that he had told me not to let
him keep me from falling in love again.  'Do as you please,' he
said, 'and let the dying go.'  I didn't think about it then, but
when I was in your arms I realized that he ould have wanted me to
be with you.  So I did."
     "And do you think you are falling in love?"
     "I think falling in love takes a long time."
     "How long?" 
     "It took me years with Theor."
     "And do you still love him?"
     "I think so."
     "You think so?  Why do you think so." She looked up at me.
     "Because I think I'm falling in love with you."
     There were no words to give to what she had said.  I held
her tight, as if there were no tomorrow and the now that existed
would last forever, the way it was supposed to.  I had never been
in love before, and I wondered for weeks after that first moment
how long the feeling I had was going to last.  She was forever on
my mind, and the fact that she had asked me to come back made
every moment until I could return a blessing to be alive.
     Being in love changed the way I looked at my work.  Friends
could see I was different and I confided in only a few about the
feelings I was having.  They seemed to understand, but there was 
little to discuss.  Men never talked about intimate things, and
even when I did find someone who would listen without laughing, 
it was hard to be understood.  The words were heard, the meanings
were not understood.  Conversations crossed at different points,
the frustration being that I could not communicate my feelings.
     At times I didn't know what I was doing serving in the
Imperial Fleet. I questioned whether I should be out in space on
patrol knowing that at any moment I might be attacked and never
return to Suzanna.  In fact, it increased my vigilance, if only
to reassure myself that I would return to her.  But that was my
life as a pilot, and before I met Suzanna it had never occurred
to me that I would be missed, or that I would have anything left
to complete were I to die; to have things undone, things I
regreted to say or do, through performance or omission.
     I thought a lot about Alderaan: about its people, their way
of life, and how much I had to learn from Suzanna and her people. 
Did I want to stay with her in her nobleman's family estate, or
did I want to ask her to join me out in space?  Did she belong
here?  Did I belong there?
     It was already difficult to deal with problems relating to
the status between Alderaan and the Imperial Government.  Was my
status, and fame, as an Imperial starfighter pilot going to
affect relations between the governments?  I could always use my
research on the green flash as an excuse for returning to the
planet, but after how many times would my requests to visit
Alderaan be denied.  My visits would always be a potential source
of embarassment to the Empire: one of their star pilots seeing a
member of Alderaan's aristocracy.  Alderaan's sympathy for the
Rebel Alliance was a source on continual friction in the Imperial
Senate.  And I suppose Alderaanians had good reason.
     The next time I return to Suzanna I asked her if anything
had changed between us.  For a whole month I thought about
nothing except her.  She understood, and if anything had changed,
it was that our bond and attachment for each other had increased.
     "Is it supposed to happen this way?" I asked her.
     "I don't know.  I suppose it's different every time."
     "How many times have you been in love?"
     "Only once."
     "And do you think it's possible to continue as we are?"
     "I'm not sure yet.  Sometimes I don't know what to make of
what's happened.  Think of my place here on Alderaan: what others
think -- my God, you're an Imperial.  I think about our age,
about how often we'll be able to see each other."
     "Can you even consider joining me in space?  There are
colonies close to my home base."
     "Tell me about it.  What's it like?  I've never been off of
Alderaan.  Is being in space as exciting as it always seems to
be?"
     "It really is.  But less so knowing that you're down here."
     I was only able to spend a week with her.  We were thankful
for every day that we had together, but it also brought us closer
to the time when we would have to say good bye again.  I had no
way of knowing when I would be able to return, and if the Rebel
Alliance started a campaign to which the fleet would have to
respond, it could be even longer.
     Suzanna did not like the idea of me shooting down Alliance
ships.  In that respect she was always going to be an
Alderaanian. I wasn't bothered, and in many ways I was beginning
to question the importance of being a pilot.  If it meant being
so far from Suzanna, how could anything be as important?  But
serving the Empire was the only thing I knew.
     "You don't need money if we lived here on Alderaan," she
said.  But I didn't know if I could be satisfied bound to the
earth as she was.  And yet to make her happy, there was enough
satisfaction in that.
     I had her husband's book translated into BlŒnorean.  To read
the book gave me great pleasure, but it also reminded me of the
many moments when I was trying to capture the green flash in
photographs on my own or to make discoveries about it in my
research.  Those acts of discovery were exciting, and to find the
answers to many of my questions discussed in a book became staid
after the initial excitement had faded.
     Suzanna understood.  Maybe she had experienced the same
thing with Theor after he had finished writing the book.  There
is always jubilation to see one's writing finally in printed
form, but then to know that the process is finished -- what must
that be like?
     "You just go on," Suzanna said. "You pick up your pen and
begin working on the next thing."
     "Is it really as easy as that?"
     "I've thought a lot about us, but especially about Theor and
the relationship we had together.  I loved him.  Deeply.  For a
while I thought I had made a mistake in going to bed with you,
but for the first time in my life I was able to make a decision I
wanted to make; and the one I think Theor would have wanted me to
make.  That afternoon, when we first made love, I wanted to
experience what it would be like to be with you.  I'm not even
sure when I look back, but I think I was feeling that from the
very moment I saw you at the door.  It was what you had wanted,
it was what I had wanted, and it was right.  I feel alive and
liberated; to be free to be with you, free of guilt, and knowing
that I am falling in love all over again."
     "Is it because of your age?" I asked. "Is there more
certainty in life, more certainty that you are in love?"
     "I'm not sure."
     "There.  You aren't certain."
     "Oh, Ben.  I don't know if there ever is any certainty. 
Would life be worth living if things were certain?  But I can
tell you this: I'm very sure I'm in love with you."
     I was not able to return for another three months.  Our last
day together had been very difficult, but later being able to fix
a date for me to visit Alderaan again made time pass more quickly
than I could ever imagine.  To see time move toward a point when
I would again be with Suzanna was like seeing time pass before my
eyes.  I managed two weeks; two important
weeks when we would begin to decide how we were to plan our lives
together.  To begin the next step in exploring how far we could
be together, and how we would do it.
     More and more I became excited about the prospect of being
on Alderaan with Suzanna; meeting her friends, learning to speak
Cantavin better, of seeing the green flash again as I had in my
childhood.  Over three months we had kept in constant contact,
learning, over light years of distance, what we liked, what we
hated, and what might be possible for us together.  I told her I
would take her to one of the space stations above Alderaan. She
was excited about the possibility of making love among the stars. 
For me just to be by her side was enough.
     This third trip was even more amazing that the first two. 
The connection we developed for each other grew at an alarming
rate that I suddenly began to wonder if what was happening should
continue at all.
     Suzanna didn't understand what I meant.  "You're only
getting cold feet," she said.  "It will pass."  I didn't feel
that way, but she gave me room to move, to let me feel, to catch
the wave that would bring me to my senses.  I spent a day by
myself and I felt better.  But I felt better being alone, without
Suzanna.  Is this what I was supposed to be feeling?  Ripped in
different directions, I questioned whether being together -- here
on Alderaan or out in space -- was at all possible.  The
obstacles seemed too difficult to overcome.  But wasn't that what
love was all about?  Overcoming?  Together?  I wasn't sure.
     The next day we did not make love.  I couldn't, and I
wondered what was wrong with me.  What had happened?  She kissed
me on the cheek and said not to worry. "What will be, will be."
     A few minutes later I joined her outside on the deck where
we had first had lunch months ago.  The sun shown brightly on the
other side of the house casting a short shadow on the field. 
Suzanna was across from me.  A coffee cup sat on the table in
front of her.  The servant came and brought us breakfast: ham and
poached eggs.
     "I'm sorry for last night," I said.  "But I just couldn't. 
I didn't feel..."
     "Ben.  Don't worry. It was bound to happen to us sooner or
later."
     "Well, I don't want run away from you."
     "You aren't, are you?"
     "No.  That's what I'm saying.  Please don't let last night
make you feel as if I don't love you, because I do.  It's just
that I'm confused about what to do next.  Do you understand?"
     "Ben, more than you know."  She leaned forward and took my
hand.  "There was a time when you were gone when I considered
moving away from here.  People had been talking in the village,
and for a while I had come to the conclusion that just running
away would solve all of my -- our problems.  I wouldn't have to
decide because we couldn't.  You wouldn't be able to find me, and
we wouldn't have to figure out how to live our lives together. 
That was when I first really realized how the worlds we lived in
were so different.  Our trip to the space station last week was
exciting -- an experience I've never had before, but it was also
terrifying.  To have no ground beneath you, to float in space,
not to see the morning sun as I do everyday here on Alderaan. 
Those things are of your universe, not mine.  And for you to give
it up, well -- I know how hard that is for you.  Maybe that's why
you are feeling the way you do.  I don't know.  And who's to
know, anyway?  Do you love me, Ben?"
     "Yes."
     "And I love you."
     Suddenly, there was a shadow that crossed the field.  We
looked up and saw a plane shoot over the house.  The drone of the
flyover shook the table.  I got up and stood next to Suzanna. 
Several more planes -- no they were X-wings, fighters used by the
Rebel Alliance.  Maybe a half dozen had made passes.  The earth
shook.  And then a large shuttle passed over the house and began
to descent to the grass in front of us.  A voice from a speaker
told us not to move.  It settled to the ground.  A hatch opened
and a score of armed Rebel commandos streamed up to the deck.
     "What's going on, Suzanna?"
     "I don't know."
     "Don't move," one of the soldiers said.  "There's no escape. 
All of your communications have been cut."
     "What's the meaning of this?" I asked.
     "It should be obvious," the soldier said as other moved into
the house bringing out the three servants that lived on the
estate.
     "Get out of my home," Suzanna screamed defiantly.  A soldier
came from inside saying that the grounds had been secured.
     "What are you doing here?" I asked again.
     "I am Lt. Vation Carr of the Rebel Alliance, and you are my
prisoner."
     "Get out of here," Suzanna said. "We have nothing to do with
your Alliance.  I can't believe this."
     "I'm very sorry Mrs. Suzanna.  We do not have any quarrel
with you or any Alderaanian, but this person is an Imperial TIE
fighter pilot and a very well-known one, in fact.  He's
responsible for the death of many Alliance soldiers, as well as
that of many of my friends."
     "You take your war," she said picking her coffee cup and
hurling it at the lieutenant, "and get out of here."  The other
soldiers reached to stop her.  I grabbed her; the lieutenant
signaled for his men to stop.  Suzanna held me and began crying
against my chest.
     "I'm sorry it has to be this way, but my orders are clear. 
You are tocome with me, Capt. BenAvelar of the Imperial Navy." 
He ordered his soldiers to take me.  They pulled Suzanna off of
me and bound my hands.  Her cries carried over the field and
through the house.  She wailed as they took me to the shuttle.  I
was almost to the shuttle when I stopped and asked to talk to the
Lt. Carr privately.
     "Are you married, Lieutenant?"
     "Yes."
     "Do you love your wife?"  He didn't answer.  "If you do,
then let me spend one more night with Suzanna."  He turned, as if
to walk away.  "Please, Lieutenant.  Suzanna and I aren't
married, but we're in love, and as you probably know since you
swept in here without any hint of your plan, I've only spent
three times with her."  He turned back.  "If you love your wife,
then at least let me have this one last time with her.  Give me
until tomorrow morning.  One day.  And I give you my word as an
officer that I won't try to escape.  I couldn't even if I wanted
to."
     He turned away again.  "Let him go."  A soldier pushed a
button and my binders dropped from my wrists.  I ran back to
Suzanna as the lieutenant gave orders to his men to secure the
estate.  She ran down the steps to meet me at the foot of the
stairs and held me.
     "We have twenty-four hours, Suzanna.  And then they are to
take me away."  She held me as tight as I could.  "I love you,
Suzanna."
     The lieutenant came up -- he had put his rifle in the
shuttle -- and walked past.  "Your honor, Capt. BenAvelar, as a
graduate of the Imperial Academy. I'm a graduate of Academy too." 
He went into the house and explained what was happening to the
servants.  "You are my prisoners for twenty-hours.  So feed me
and my men."

V

     The soldiers had formed a perimeter around the estate, but
they did nothing to hide the shuttle and the X-Wings from view. 
Satellites or even nosy neighbors could easily see what was
happening.  Suzanna and I went upstairs to see the Lt. Carr
sipping on coffee with one of his officers, who reached for his
rifle blaster when I came up.  I didn't do anything to provoke
them.
     "The Alderaan government knows you're here, don't they?" I
asked the lieutenant.  He didn't answer.  "You know the Empire
will be able to piece together what happened to me.  And you just
can't execute these people."  He still didn't answer.
     "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" Suzanna
inveighed.  He took another sip of his coffee.
     "Capt. BenAvelar, soon it will not matter what happens here
on Alderaan."  With that he stood up, taking his coffee with him,
and walked into the house.  His adjutant followed.
     "What's happening to us?" Suzanna said.  I took her into my
arms.  "Don't worry," I said.  "Everything's fine."  I held her a
while and then walked her down to the field past the assault
shuttle.
     The soldiers looked at me suspiciously.  Their shuttle was
of Sienar Systems construction which meant it was captured from
imperial forces. Dura-steel construction made the shuttle
impervious to blasters and most light weapons.  Several
batteries, fore and aft, as well as a gun turret on top, had seen
recent action, and probably, since Alderaan's disarmament,
nothing on the planet would be able to stop it. Like the X-Wings,
it was capable of hyperspace travel.  And, provided imperial
forces did not know of my capture, there would be nothing to stop
them from jumping into hyperspace.  Since relations with Alderaan
had been tenuous at best, there was little possibility of rescue.
     Suzanna, dumfounded, held me as we walked into the field. 
We walked the entire length, some two hundred meters.  The house
lay far in the distance.
     "Why don't we run into the woods?" she said.
     "That's why."  Two soldiers were patrolling one of the
trails that cut through the small forest.  "Besides, with all of
the equipment they have, we wouldn't be able to get far enough
away unless we could make a jump into hyperspace from this very
spot."
     "What can we do?"
     "Nothing," I leaned my head against hers. We walked back. 
The Rebels had made themselves comfortable with stools they had
made out of cargo crates.  They watched me, making sure I didn't
jump one of them or make for the interior of the shuttle.  It
wasn't even a consideration.
     We walked up to the deck where several soldiers were eating
the lunch Suzanna's servants had prepared.  The adjutant asked us
to join him, but Suzanna refused.  I thought maybe we ought to
appease our captors, but the soldier did not come back.
     We walked through the house, passing men who had made 
themselves at home in the reception room, into the study where
her husband used to work.  The door was open and the lieutenant
and his adjutant were inside drinking glasses of brandy.
     "My, how civilized we are," Suzanna said. "I'm sure you know
were to find more to keep yourself happy."  The lieutenant looked
at us.
     "Oh!  My apologies."  He made for the door.  "I'm sorry if I
intrude on your more private quarters."  He looked at his
adjutant.  "Come, let us leave them," and they departed.
     "There are weapons in the basement, Ben.  We can get them
and... what's wrong?"
     "They've probably already found them."
     "But they're hidden in the basement."
     "They have scanners in that shuttle than can detect any
explosive device within a hundred meters."
     "But these aren't blasters, they're guns."
     "Weren't they banned from the planet?"
     "They were, but you'd be surprised at how many Alderaanians
have them.  We may be disarmed, but we aren't pacifists. 
Besides, the government turns a blind eye unless someone is
caught using them.  And then they throw the book at them."
     I pulled her toward me and held her tight.  "Can you just
stop for a second.  We don't have much time, and I just want to
spend as much of it as we can together."
     "But we have to do something.  Isn't that the reason why you
convinced the lieutenant to gives us twenty-four hours?  So we
could try to escape."
     "No," I said, looking into her eyes.  "I did it so we could
spend one last day in each other's arms."  I sighed and then
pulled her to me again.  "I love you Suzanna.  I just can't
believe what's happening to us.  What kind of world are we living
in?  Is this not a good thing, Suzanna, that we have between us? 
This doesn't happen every day, does it?"
     I brought her to the sofa and we sat there quietly.  On the
table was Theor's book; the lieutenant has been looking through
it.  Was this how it ended?  So quick, so fast, as fast as it
had all began.  The universe was a hard and bitter place.  Were
we to give up all hope?
     "Suzanna, do you have some kind of radio transmitter?"
     "They said they cut all communications with the house."
     "But maybe we can signal the Imperial Fleet. At least
there'd be a chance of our escape.  I don't know if they could
rescue us immediately, but at least they'd know."
     "Well, there is the computer system that Theor used to
communicate with other scientists at Alderaan University.  But
what kind of message could you send: Imperial pilot held captive
by Alliance commandos; contact Imperial City and send for help? 
I doubt you'd be lucky to get a laugh before they cut off
transmission."
     "No, I'd have to do something to get in touch with the
Empire directly.  Some kind of SOS."
     "Can you do that?"
     "I can try.  Where is it?"
     "In the next room."
     "Okay.  Let's move in there."
     "How long is it going to take?"
     "I don't know."  We went into the next room which was also a
guest room with a bed.
     "The monitor is over there behind the hutch.  I'll keep an
eye out at the door.  If they come in, jump on the bed and 
pretend we're taking a nap."
     I started the monitor and began to work on the program.  It
took me a while to find out how to convert the Ancient Tongue
which Suzanna's husband favored.  But once changed to Coruscant,
I was able to put together a program explaining our situation and
asking for immediate assistance.  A soldier had come in to check
up on us; we jumped into bed.  My eyes were closed when Suzanna
took her arm from around me and got off of the bed.  I heard her
walk to the door, whisper something, and then step out, closing
the door behind her.  I heard her steps walking down the hall
toward the reception room.  I got back to the computer and
started the signal.  If someone didn't get out message
immediately, then at least they'd know of the signal when I
didn't show up for my assigned schedule. I got back into bed and
waited until Suzanna came back into the room.
     "What's that?" I asked.  She had a blaster in her hand.
     "One of the soldiers had left it laying about.  He's in the
bathroom."
     "Go put it back," I said.  "It won't help."
     "But why?"
     "Suzanna, I gave my word as an officer of the Imperial
Academy that I wouldn't try to escape."  She hesitated.  "Just
trust me.  Go put it back." Confused she walked out and returned
a minute later.
     "What time is it?" I asked.
     "Getting late.  About six o'clock."
     "What were you doing when you were gone."
     "I was just keeping them busy so you could do your program
thing.  Did you do it?"
     "It's running now."
     "Good."
     "What do you mean 'keeping them busy'?"
     "Talking.  Do you know the lieutenant is from Alderaan, but
clear on the other side of the planet."
     There was a knock on the door.  "Hello," it was the
adjutant.  "We'll be serving dinner in a half hour and Lt. Carr
would like you to join him.  He's having an aperatif."
     "Tell him we'll be there shortly."
     "Very well.  In the reception hall."
     A few minutes later we saw Lt. Carr sitting in one of the
sofas.  He was petting Mastaffon.  "Please get them drinks," Carr
said to a servant.  Suzanna nodded to her, "Viridean Scores," and
the servant sped off.  "Mastaffon.  Corner!"  The huge beast
stood up and walked to the far end of the hall.  Carr reached for
his brandy, chasten by the hound's departure.
     "I thought we could spend some time together, Captain.  Mrs.
Suzanna is quite charming, though of a spirit I altogether did
not expect from an Alderaanian.  I'd have thought it would have
been easy for her to give up an Imperial."  There was a slight
tenor of contempt in his voice when he said the word Imperial.
     "I don't ask for special treatment, Lieutenant, but at least
give me the respect of a fellow graduate of the Academy."
     "I apologize.  I am being disrespectful." He took a sip of
his drink when the servant came with ours.
     "What do you expect to do with me?" I asked.  "You've
already taken me, why not just kill me?  Surely that would
accomplish your ends just as well."
     "Maybe," he said.  His adjutant interrupted.
     "There is a war out there, Captain."
     "You don't have to tell me.  I've destroyed scores of your
kind in the past year."  The lieutenant looked up for him to hold
his temper.
     "And as a prisoner on Alderaan," the adjutant continued,
"you could be tried and executed for spying."
     "He's no spy!" Suzanna said.
     "Then what's he doing here on Alderaan?" the adjutant said.
     "He's doing research on the same thing my husband studied."
She looked in my direction.  "And he's with me."
     "And where is your husband?" the adjutant asked.
     "He's dead," I said.  Lt. Carr uncrossed his legs and stood
up.
     "Let's put it to rest, Corporal," Carr said to his adjutant. 
"Their life is none of our business.  They've been most kind to
let us run free through the house, as I have been in letting them
their freedom."  He walked up the steps.  "Let us go to the
dining hall and eat."
     We followed them to the table.  We had only eaten twice in
this hall.  The room, stained oak with portraits hung along the
wall, was too large to bring Suzanna and me any comfort.
Halberds, glaives, and swords stood in racks on one wall.  The
large red table sat twenty, though it was shortened to accompany
ten: Suzanna, myself, and eight soldiers including the lieutenant
who sat at its head.  All of the Rebels, except for two X-Wing
pilots in their orange flight jackets, were in commando fatigues. 
Their presence gave the room a strange military appearance to the
production in which we were about to take part.
     "Drell," Carr said in Coruscant to one of his men, "take off
your hat.  What planet are you from?"  Drell quickly swiped the
hat from his head.
     The three servants brought out our meals.  Carr waited until
everyone was served when he asked us to prepare ourselves for a
prayer.
     "As is the custom on Alderaan, Mrs. Suzanna will you please
lead the prayer."
     "I will not, so long as I am a prisoner in my own house."
     "Then I shall." Carr said a few lines in what must have been
the Ancient Tongue.  His prayer was a chant.  No one in any other
language could have mistaken the sacredness of the moment.  "Let
us begin," he said as he took up knife and fork.
     The table was silent for a long time, and but for the quiet
clinks of forks on the china, the room seemed entirely cold.  I
decided to break the stand off Suzanna had started.
     "Those look like new X-Wing fighters," I said to one of the
pilots.  "I've never seen one up close before."
     "But I'm sure you've studied them?"
     "How to shoot them down," I said.  His partner, sitting
across from him, chuckled.
     "Well, I've seen many Imperial TIE fighters close up -- just
before I blew them up."  I took another helping of my steak.
     "Captain," Carr began, "what sector have you been assigned."
     "This isn't part of my interrogation, is it?"
     "No, that's not my business.  It's a personal question."  He
put his utensils down.
     "Well, here's an answer," Suzanna said as she threw an olive
at the lieutenant.  Seats were pushed back as soldiers moved the
stand up.  It missed completely, zipping past his head.  "Take
that for putting your elbows up on my dinner table."  A few
moments passed as everyone waited for his reaction.  He looked at
Suzanna and then started laughing.  At first slowly, and then
uncontrollably.  It was contagious, and one by one we all began
to succumb, including Suzanna.
     "My sister did that once," Carr said after he'd regained
some composure.  "She threw it at my grandfather and hit him in
the eye and got stuck.  You should have seen how funny he
looked," he puckered one eye and then tossed one of his own
olives at Suzanna.  I extended my hand and caught it.  There was
a second of uncertainty and everyone looked at me, and then more
laughter from Carr.
     Dinner was much easier after that.  Even Suzanna felt more
comfortable, though it was still clear that she wasn't about to
fully accept the company at her table.  Carr brought up politics
and despite the numerical balance in favor of Alliance points of
view, I was able to make arguments which they could not refute. 
I backed off when I realized I was making Suzanna just as
uncomfortable.  There was too much of the Empire in me, and for
Suzanna that was a problem we had never even considered.
     Carr had drunk quite a number of drinks.  He became even
more bold, so much he even offered me one of the swords from one
of the racks against the wall.
     "You know we Alderaanians are great swordsmen," he said
slightly inebriated.  He held a sword and took a guard. His men
made a circle around us.  Sword in hand, I had the chance to
strike him down.  Suzanna could feel the tension.  I couldn't.  I
had given my word.  I dropped my point and began singing an old
drinking song from the Academy.
     Quietly and slow, and then faster and louder.  Carr
recognized the song and began singing with me.  He dropped his
weapon.  I approached and threw an arm over his shoulder.  I was
not a good singer, Carr was even worse.  In short time there were
no more words and the song came to an end.  I looked around:
everyone was staring.  They did not u nderstand. They were not
graduates of the Academy.
     Carr shifted his weight and pulled me to the unlit fire
place.  "Capt. BenAvelar," he said soberly, "I know about the
transmission you've been trying to send.  I'm afraid your message
didn't run for more than thirty seconds.  I also know about the
blaster you took and then returned.  Of course, technically an
Imperial rescue would not have broken your word that you would
not attempt an escape.  You are man of honor so you need not
worry about punishment.  You never had any chance of escape.  And
I thank you for the song -- it brought back many good memories --
but go back to your Suzanna and spend a night with her like you
never have.  I give you a chance to be with the one you love.  I 
only wish I had the power to grant that one wish to myself."  And
he pushed me away toward Suzanna.  "Come, men.  Let us get ready
for our departure on the morrow."
     I took Suzanna to our room and I did make love to her as I
had never done before.  Those moments cannot be described in
words.  More need not be said, for only those who have shared a
love such as we felt will ever understand.
     When morning came I stood holding my dear Suzanna in my arms
for one last time.  She cried long and hard, her tears staining
my imperial uniform.  I was bound and pulled away from her.  She
would not let go.  Her servants came to her side and held her.  I
did not know what would happen to me, but I had done my best to
be with her as long as I could.
     X-Wings started to take off and the shuttle's engines
roared.  I turned and looked at Suzanna with my own eyes one last
time.  The door closed and they pushed me into a seat at a
window.  I waved and looked as long as was possible.  I could
read her lips as she said the words: I love you.
     Three days later  Lt. Carr's adjutant came into my cell. 
"Capt. BenAvelar.  Yesterday, at three o'clock in the afternoon,
Alderaa time, the Empire's newest space station, the Death Star
entered the system, fired upon the planet Alderaan, obliterating
the entire satellite.  I regret to inform you that Mrs. Suzanna
was still on the planet when it occurred.
     "I am also sorry to inform you of the death of Lt. Carr, my
commanding officer.  He died of his own hand after he learned of
Alderaan's destruction.  His wife was also on the planet when it
happened."