Star Wars - Truce at Bakura Page 12

  "But you don't know."

  Thanas only stared back. This would be a touchy truce, if it held.

  "We do need to discuss the current tactical situation," Luke suggested.

  "According to my data, between us we've got two cruisers, seven midsized

  gunships, and about forty one-man fighters, two thirds currently deployed in

  the defensive web, one third down for repairs. Do your figures line up?"

  Thanas favored Luke with an amused curl of his lips. "Good data. You also

  have a rather irregular freighter."

  "That, too." Luke shifted on the repulsor chair. "Have you been able to

  get any count on the Ssi-ruuk?"

  Thanas nodded curtly. "Here insystem, three cruisers. Two midsize ships

  that've hung back, so far, near the orbit of Planet Four--our best guess is

  planetary assault ships. About fifteen large fighters or small picket ships,

  just outside the defense net. And no one knows how many of those little

  fighters--or which cruiser carries them. Maybe they all do."

  Simply put, the situation looked bad. "Where do you get your information?

  " Luke asked, wondering what Thanas might tell him about in-system

  intelligence.

  Thanas raised one eyebrow. "Standard sources," he said. "Where do you get

  yours?"

  "Open eyes."

  The exchange was punctuated by more frustrating dead ends, but when Luke

  stood up two hours later, he had a better grasp of the tactical situation,

  precise data on orbital defense-net vectors, and a few miscellaneous tidbits

  stored in his mind and Artoo's memory banks.

  "Commander Skywalker," Thanas said softly, "I wonder if you wouldn't

  favor me with a demonstration of that lightsaber. I've heard about them."

  "I think not." Luke kept his tone polite. "I don't want to alarm your

  troopers."

  "They won't be alarmed." Thanas touched another key on his desk. The door

  slid open. Two white-armored stormtroopers stepped inside. "I'd like to keep

  your astromech droid here. You two Take custody."

  "I'd prefer to keep Artoo with me." Luke didn't think Thanas meant the

  threat seriously, but he unhooked, swept up, and activated the saber with a

  single motion. For all his willingness to talk, Thanas thought like an

  Imperial. He wanted a demonstration. He'd get it.

  The troopers fired milliseconds apart. Luke pivoted into the blasts and

  deflected them. Tiny flames extinguished in Thanas's gray paneling.

  "Hold your fire." Thanas lifted a hand. "Dismissed."

  The troopers marched out.

  "I don't understand." Luke stood at ready attention and kept the saber

  ignited. "You could have lost two of your men."

  Thanas stared at the humming green blade. "I didn't think you would kill

  them. I'd have had to take you prisoner, if you did. I wonder if you'd care to

  fight your way out through the whole garrison."

  Luke reached for his focus of control. "If I had to, I would." He sensed

  a trace of amusement in the older man. Perhaps Thanas was hostile more out of

  professional habit than out of real belief in the Empire, but Luke didn't

  trust him yet. He closed down the saber. "I need to check on my forces' ship

  damages, Commander."

  Thanas nodded. "You may go. Take your droid with you."

  Luke tucked his thumbs into his utility belt. "My shuttle went back to

  the Bakur complex. I'd appreciate a lift over to Pad Twelve at the spaceport."

  Thanas hesitated for a slow beat, then smiled back. "All right."

  If Thanas meant to stop Luke and his party from leaving Bakura, he'd get

  plenty of chances.

  A noncom drove Luke off in a repulsor craft. All the dull aches had come

  back. It was indeed turning out to be a very long day. He made a mental task

  list check in with Leia and let her know he'd left the garrison safely,

  double-check that the Falcon was undisturbed, make sure the fighters were

  being serviced and the pilots were getting their rest...

  Abruptly Luke realized he hadn't thought about that striking Bakuran

  senator for over an hour. He tried to dismiss her image again, and his memory

  of the way her Force aura had energized his own. Forgetting wasn't as easy

  without Imperials surrounding him. This wasn't the time or place to let

  personal urges distract him.

  Yet the first Death Star hadn't been the time or place for romance

  either, and his desperate love for Leia had set so much in motion. If only

  Gaeriel Captison needed to be rescued....

  Shortly after Skywalker's shuttle left the garrison, Pter Thanas stopped

  tapping an Alzoc-pearl pocketknife against his desktop. He'd tracked the

  illegal freighter to Pad 12 at the civilian spaceport. Relevant information,

  but not yet vital.

  He unfolded one knife blade and balanced it over his index finger. He

  never could have admitted to young Skywalker how long he'd wished to see a

  lightsaber in action. When Vader and the Emperor had wiped out the Jedi, he'd

  given up hope. Fascinating, the way it'd deflected laser fire. Its combat uses

  would be limited, but its very appearance was compelling.

  As was the young man who carried it. Now he understood why the reward for

  his capture was so high.

  Thanas imagined what he could do with so many credits. He'd been

  transferred to this dead-end position after refusing to wipe out a village of

  recalcitrant Talz slave miners back on Alzoc III.

  He hadn't been trying to play hero.... He'd simply increased his miners'

  food allotment. Most sentients worked harder if better fed, and the

  storehouses had been full. Unbeknownst to him, the furry four-eyed Talz

  identified their benefactor. One day in the mines, he'd taken a step too close

  to the lip of an open shaft. Three Talz dove to save him. He owed them his

  life.

  Six standard months later, a colonel with more greed than common sense

  reduced the food ration again. The Talz headman delivered a cautiously ^wed

  protest. The colonel ordered their village wiped out as an example. Thanas

  ignored the order. The colonel sent in stormtroopers himself, then ordered

  Thanas on board his own ship, "pending reassignment."

  Thanas smiled bitterly. He'd been told to consider himself lucky--if he'd

  pulled that stunt in Lord Vader's presence, he'd have been dead of

  asphyxiation. Instead, here he sat on Bakura, an isolated, low-paying job with

  little hope for rotation out to the Core worlds.

  Again he thought about that reward--and early retirement. He caressed the

  iridescent pearl handle. He could marry again and live quietly on some

  nonaligned world. The reward for Skywalker tempted him, but if anyone on

  Bakura claimed those credits, it would be Governor Wilek Nereus.

  Thanas frowned, refolded the knife, and dropped it into his pocket. No

  early retirement for him. He hadn't even been able to repel alien invaders

  without reinforcements... from the Rebel Alliance. He'd never leave Bakura

  now.

  Leia cleared Luke's message from her screen and keyed over to her next

  data file. A photographic memory would've been useful. This much raw data

  would take weeks to internalize. From Artoo, she'd already learned that Bakura

  had information-level technology, rep
ulsor coil manufacturing and export (due

  to plentiful mineral deposits in the mountains north of Salis D'aar), and

  namana trees, a tropical cash crop that showed astonishing profit margins. New

  information was that descendants of the original Bakur Corporation ship's

  captain had always served as titular heads of government. Also new the

  senate, not the smallish populace, elected senators to replace those who died

  or resigned.

  Now, she reflected, it was an approval organ for Imperial Governor Wilek

  Nereus. She'd like quietly to interview a few private citizens and find out

  how much anti-Imperial sentiment the Rebels could hope to tap.

  She yawned mightily, then stretched her arms and tipped her repulsor

  chair. Han's feet showed through the doorway of his bedroom--the suite had

  four private rooms, two with windows and two with real-time murals. If Han had

  fallen asleep on the floor, trying to study Artoo's data, she didn't care.

  Looking at that much of him raised her blood pressure. The nerve of him,

  implying she wanted to dally with an ex-Alderaanian Imperial. A renegade, a

  quisling.

  She didn't hear any sign of Chewbacca. Threepio probably stood where

  she'd left him, plugged into the main comm center near the doorway, and Luke--

  Once Luke had left, she'd calmed down a bit. She shouldn't let the

  knowledge that Vader was their father infuriate her so. Even Han hadn't tossed

  a single snide comment when she'd swallowed her humiliation back on Endor and

  told him about Vader. He hadn't said anything, only held her. With all Darth

  Vader had done to him--sending the galaxy's lowest scum to chase him down,

  then using him as an experimental animal to test a carbon freeze unit,

  scorching and creasing his precious ship with TIE'-FIGHTER laser cannon--

  evidently Han wasn't going to hold any of it against Leia or Luke. So long as

  she avoided anything and anybody that reminded her of Vader or the Force,

  she'd be all right.

  Fat chance, on this trip. Get hold of yourself, she ordered.

  "Mistress Leia?" called Threepio's voice.

  She walked to her bedroom door. "What is it?"

  "A message for you. Prime Minister Captison."

  "Put it on my bedroom terminal." She hurried back to the tri-D station.

  Her door slid shut on a frictionless channel. She'd never seen so many small-

  scale repulsors.

  Leia sat down. She would have recognized the image even without

  Threepio's announcement. Collecting her composure, she greeted him

  respectfully. "I hope your senate decided in our favor, Prime Minister."

  He smiled with the sad, authoritative dignity she remembered from Bail

  Organa. "Nothing was finalized," he said. "I hope you and your party are

  comfortable?"

  "I'm delighted to be speaking at such length with your people, but we

  expect a little trouble convincing the Imperial military that we're here to do

  a job and then go home."

  "Your Highness." The prime minister's tone reproached her gently. "That's

  not why you're here, is it?" Captison raised a hand. "That's all right. Our

  people need a distraction. They've had nothing but Ssi-ruuk on their minds for

  over a week."

  "I understand," Leia murmured. "What can I do for you, Prime Minister?"

  "You--and your party--cd join me at my home this evening. Dinner will be

  at nineteen hundred."

  She longed to put down her head and sleep, but... "That would be

  delightful," she said. It could be a wonderful distraction, a real

  breakthrough. "On behalf of General Solo and Commander Skywalker, I accept."

  What about Chewie? she thought suddenly. He wouldn't fit, not the way these

  people felt about aliens. Well, she hoped she could make him understand. He

  could get some sleep. "Thank you very much."

  "I will send an escort for you shortly after eighteen thirty. Oh," he

  added, "I have invited Governor Nereus as well. A chance to open communication

  off the official records."

  That would keep her awake. Guaranteed. "How thoughtful of you, Prime

  Minister. Thank you." Leia switched off. It.was the perfect opportunity. High

  time to ask the Imperials what they thought about Emperor Palpatine's

  intentions, inviting the Ssi-ruuk in this direction.

  She hoped Luke got back from the spaceport in time to clean up.

  She hoped Luke got back, period.

  CHAPTER 9

  By the time Dev had scraped nauseating blobs of mixed food out of the

  galleyvac unit, an hour had passed. He must report to Elder Sh'tk'ith--

  Bluescale--bbf his midcycle bath. Not that he wanted renewal, but if Bluescale

  thought Dev had avoided him, he'd pry deeper. Bluescale was incredibly

  sensitive to changes in Dev's scent. Besides, the elder had a talent for

  hypnotic control, even though he was as Force blind as the rest of them. Dev

  ought to be able to resist him, for simple hypnosis was nothing next to the

  power of the Force.

  But he couldn't control it well enough, and he had no one to teach him.

  Dev had felt the presence of one of his own kind. What if it.were a real

  Jedi out there? The Ssi-ruuk would be vitally interested, but Dev didn't want

  Bluescale to know yet.

  On the other hand, maybe that wouldn't be so bad. They would seek out the

  other, and Dev would have a human friend--

  No, the Outsider was stronger in the Force--a concept his mother had

  taught him long before that fateful invasion day. Dev would fall from his

  masters' attention. Still, they'd entech him at last. Walking lightly, he

  headed up the broad corridor. Ssi-ruuk passed him going both directions,

  stepping quickly with their massive heads bobbing. A few wore paddle beamers,

  for occasional P'w'ecks turned on their masters under the stress of battle.

  On the other hand--he slowed again--they might try to entech the

  Outsider. Humans screamed on the entechment chair. Someone that strong in the

  Force might kill Dev with his agony.

  No, no. Only the body felt pain.

  Yet what if this.were a fully trained Jedi?

  Dev dove into a turbolift and hurried to Bluescale's work station on the

  battle-droid deck. He wasn't there. Several small, brown P'w'eck workers bent

  over antenna-cornered pyramids recovered by tractor beam. This crew was made

  up of youngsters, short-tailed with jerky movements. As soon as they finished

  repairing these droids, the droids would stand ready for the next group of

  prisoners to be enteched.

  Dev watched for a minute. Each P'w'eck did its own job without any sign

  of satisfaction. This dull-witted servant race only superficially resembled

  the glossy, muscular masters. Heavy eyes and sagging skin showed that even the

  young P'w'ecks didn't bother to eat well. Battle droids shone by comparison.

  He hiked up to the bridge and sent one of the cylindrical ultimate

  security droids looking for Bluescale. He waited outside. A conductive net

  surrounded the bridge, strong enough to stabilize gravitics and repel energy

  surges during battle. Like a reactor, it could be overloaded, and a direct hit

  from a large enough ship would overcharge the net and make the bridge a

  deathtrap. Admiral Ivpikkis made certain no large hostile
ship got the

  Shriwirr in firing range.

  The droid couldn't find Bluescale either. Feeling increasingly urgent,

  Dev tried Master Firwirrung's entechment hall.

  Bluescale stood in the corridor, giving orders to a group of P'w'ecks.

  Dev stood back a respectful distance. Once the P'w'ecks scurried away, he

  stepped close. "You wished me to report, Elder."

  Bluescale opened a hatchway. "Come in."

  Once inside, Dev looked around cautiously. This wasn't one of Bluescale's

  usual work stations. In one corner, waist - and knee-high railings surrounded

  a meter-square sunken area. A gate hung open. Once Bluescale raised it, it

  would complete an enclosure. It almost looked like a cage built to hold a

  P'w'eck. They were led away for discipline sometimes. He'd never seen it done.

  He started to panic. "There?"

  "Yes." Bluescale slid aside to a small table. Unable to do anything else,

  Dev stepped down into the enclosure.

  Bluescale pressed something hard against his shoulder. "Lean on the

  railings, if you'd like."

  Normally, Bluescale began renewals by having him lie down comfortably on

  the deck. At least, this didn't feel like discipline... so far. "What is it

  you wish?" Dev whistled uneasily. "What may I do to please you?"

  "Talk with me." Bluescale settled his glistening mass alongside Dev. "How

  goes your project?"

  Suddenly delighted by the elder's attention, Dev let his weight sag on

  the upper railing. "It goes very well. My latest effort is a translation of

  the announcement we delivered to Bakura, a few weeks--"

  "Stop," said Bluescale. He bent his massive head closer to Dev and peered

  down with one eye.

  Dev smiled back fondly.

  "You are human," Bluescale said. "Think for a moment what that means."

  Dev pushed up one sleeve and stared at his soft, fuzzy arm. "It means...

  inferior."

  "Are you certain?"

  Bewildered, Dev shut his eyes. From the deepest recesses of emotion, he

  released something controlled and repressed and stinking and hateful and--

  The huge lizard loomed nearer. Dev howled and struck its forelimb.

  "Harder," it whistled. "You can do better than that, weakling."

  Gritting his teeth, Dev plunged a fist into its upper arm. "You killed my

  world. My parents, my people. Every one of them gone, absorbed, murdered,