Star Wars - Truce at Bakura Page 17

  minister--?allyeah." She paced back to his side. "Right. Anyway, he's gone. He

  didn't hurt me. Maybe he can't hurt me any more."

  "That'd be good." Han ran a finger around the tight braids pinned to her

  head.

  She yanked out the pins and pulled off the end clasps. Han stood with his

  eyebrows at attention as she ran her fingers from scalp to ends and tossed her

  head. Her hair swung loose. "But I'm not going to forgive him," she said

  softly.

  "Are you sure you're all right?" He fingered the dark cascade, then

  wrapped an arm around her waist.

  His shoulder made a firm, warm pillow. "I love you, Nerf Herder."

  "I know that."

  "Do you?"

  He stroked the back of her head. "What makes you think I don't?"

  "I'm sorry," she whispered, straightening her neck. She held her lips

  near his chin.

  Accepting the invitation, he bent and kissed her. She felt her life

  energy draw up into the kiss until nothing existed but barely perceptible

  movements of Han's mouth. She flattened her hands on his shoulders. His legs

  shifted toward her. All perception vanished but the taste of his breath. Her

  pulse quickened in her ears.

  The comm center blatted behind him.

  "Mmmf!" Han cried before she could disengage. Once he pulled free, he

  shouted, "No! It's not fair!"

  Laughing at her own despair, Leia pushed her hair behind her shoulders.

  "Want to get it? Or shall I?"

  "Well, you're--" He looked her up and down and smiled crookedly. "Lovely.

  "

  "But I'm not presentable."

  "It isn't your usual image," he agreed with a sad head shake. "I'll get

  it."

  Leia backed aside. Han touched a control and then blinked. "Luke!" he

  exclaimed. "What's up?"

  "There's been a little trouble," said Luke's voice.

  Leia whisked back to Han's side. Luke looked calm. She tried stretching

  out with the Force to feel his presence, but she couldn't. She must still be

  too agitated. "I thought you were going to check on ship repairs," she said.

  "I didn't think the comm center was secure enough to leave messages. Our

  Mon Calamari crew came downside for an authorized shore leave. Some Bakurans

  on the wrong side of the spaceport--at Nereus's suggestion--spotted them and

  thought the Ssi-ruuk had landed. By the time I got here, the Calamari had

  blasted two in self-defense."

  "Oh, no." Treaty papers burned in Leia's imagination.

  "Sorry I missed it." Han grinned. "Looks like you made out all right."

  Luke nodded. "It was still dark enough that one lightsaber lit up the

  whole pad area. Once Chewie and I had both sides' attention, and the Bakurans

  got a good look at our people, they declared a cease fire."

  Han raised one eyebrow. "Not bad, farm boy."

  "But, Luke." Leia pushed hair behind her shoulder again. "What about the

  injured Bakurans?"

  He pressed his lips together and shook his head. "Did I say injured?

  Sorry. Dead. Their families need formal apologies. Could you do it for me?

  You're better at that kind of thing."

  Leia didn't relish the idea, but he was right - - she wanted it done

  correctly. "I will." She tried stretching out for him again. What she touched

  frosted her blood. The crisis might be over, but in his deeper sense hid a

  dark disquiet. "Luke, what's wrong?"

  His cheeks colored. "Come on, Leia. This isn't a secure channel."

  Luke was deeply afraid. What else had ha ppened in the night? Han cocked

  an eyebrow at her. She shook her head. "Later, then," she said. "Han and I

  will go straight from here to the prime minister. I'll apologize to him first.

  I'm also taking him Threepio and Artoo, to try translating."

  "Good. Artoo's probably still in my bedroom, plugged in. Han, I'm leaving

  Chewie here to keep things calm. I'll try to talk to Belden next, if I can

  find him."

  "Belden?"

  "The senior senator. I have a feeling," he said softly.

  "About the shooting?" asked Han.

  "Right. See you two later." The image faded.

  Han folded his arms. "I suppose the sooner we get on with it, the sooner

  we can get away from this planet with our skins."

  Leia stretched a hand toward the comm board. "I'll send Prime Minister

  Captison a message that we'll be late." Good thing they'd been late.

  Otherwise, they'd've missed Luke's transmission.

  Frowning, she punched in Prime Minister Captison's code. Maybe some day

  she would wish she'd accepted Vader's apology. Anakin's. Whoever he was. He

  had been polite.

  Watching her, was he? Freshly furious, she shook her fist at thin air.

  CHAPTER 11

  Luke stepped out of the comm booth closest to pad 12, glad he hadn't

  settled for the cantina's nonvisual comm net. From watching Han and Leia's

  faces, he felt sure they'd be all right. Better than all right. While he was

  on line, he'd also filed an incident report on the mainframe and looked up an

  address.

  Chewie stood on watch. Luke grabbed a handful of arm fur and said,

  "Thanks, pal." The Wookiee slapped Luke's shoulder in reply, then stalked past

  the shabby cantina back toward the Falcon. A thorough investigation had

  assured them that nobody'd messed with it.

  Captain Manchisco lounged against the cantina's corrugated wall. "Heading

  out, Commander?" She must've cleaned up for shore leave, but gray spaceport

  dust had smudged her cream-colored shipsuit during the fracas. Three black

  braids still dangled jauntily on each side of her head, dusted with leaf

  fragments and twigs.

  On board the Falcon, she'd declared that she (sensibly) offered her Duro

  navigator triple overtime to stay shipboard. Luke wished the Mon Calamari

  captain had thought of that. Credit-poor the Alliance might be, but its

  leadership would rather pay triple overtime than provoke incidents that cost

  Bakuran lives. "Say, how's the Flurry?" he asked.

  Manchisco frowned. "Small problem with her starboard shield. It's fixed,

  but I had to let an Imperial maintenance team on board. All her specs are

  probably on Thanas's computer now." She thrust her hand into a deep pocket.

  "Did they do good work, though?"

  "Looks all right." She shrugged. "I don't know if I told you it's been a

  pleasure making your acquaintance."

  "I like working with you, too. And I'm sure we're not finished here."

  Her battle-hard face lost a few smug lines. "You're the one who knows

  about these things, but I've got this odd feeling we won't meet again."

  Another warning. Or had Manchisco experienced a premonition of her own?

  "I don't know," he answered honestly. "The future is always in motion."

  She waggled her left hand. "Doesn't matter. We do what we can, for as

  long as we can. Eh, Commander?"

  "Exactly." A two-seat speeder cruised through the gate to Pad 12,

  overloaded with four Alliance crewers. Just what he needed. Spaceport

  Authority had reclaimed the speeder he arrived in.

  "Hot night downside," Manchisco observed. "Let's hope there wasn't any

  more trouble."

  The crewers looked bleary-eyed but nonviolent. "I think they're all

  r
ight. Force be with you, Captain." Luke commandeered the speeder and drove it

  out the perimeter road.

  Five minutes later, he parked atop a residential tower. He found Senior

  Senator Belden's apartment near the drop shaft, ran a hand over his hair and

  straightened his gray shipsuit, then touched the alarm panel.

  While he waited for an answer, he glanced up the hall in both directions.

  This msty corridor, with plating peeled off several door frames, was a far cry

  from the Captison mansion. Perhaps the Belden family owned a finer home

  elsewhere, or maybe Governor Nereus made sure that the dissidents' credit

  balances stayed slim.

  The door slid aside. He stepped back. Gaeriel, here too? "I--" he

  stammered, "uh, hello. I was hoping to speak with Senator Belden."

  "He's out." She was sliding through the doorway into the hall when a

  cracked voice behind her called, "Let him in, Gaeri. Let him in."

  "That's Madam Belden," Gaeri whispered, "and she's not well." She touched

  her forehead. "Come in for a moment. Clis--her caregiver--had a family crisis,

  so I'm having tea this morning."

  "I'll just say hello," he murmured. "I didn't mean to bother you."

  A wizened woman sat propped up on cushions in a brocade chair with wing-

  shaped armrests. She wore yellow-orange, almost the color of namana candy, and

  she'd dyed her sparse hair auburn. "You're back, Roviden. Why did you stay

  away so long?"

  Luke shot Gaeri a puzzled glance. "She thinks you're their son," Gaeri

  whispered against his ear. "He was killed in the purges, three years ago. She

  thinks every young man is their son. Don't argue. It's better."

  Was there an escape route? Luke saw spindly wooden furniture that was

  probably antique, a gray box that was probably electronic, and Gaeriel's bare

  feet beneath her space-blue skirt and vest... but no way of gracefully evading

  a filial masquerade. Hesitantly he took Madam Belden's hand. "I'm sorry," he

  murmured. "So much work to do. For the Rebellion, you know," he added on a

  gamble Son killed in the purges.

  She squeezed his hand. "I knew you were working undercover somewhere,

  Roviden. They told me--oh, but it doesn't matter. Gaeriel's missing, you see,

  and--"

  "No, she's--" he began.

  "I'm here, Eppie." Gaeri sat down on a furry repulsor footstool.

  "You're--?" Madam Belden stared from Luke to Gaeri, shaking her head

  helplessly. "I'm--?" She shut her eyes and set her chin.

  Gaeriel shrugged. "You're fine, Eppie. Would a nap feel good?"

  "Nap," repeated the woman in a tired voice.

  Luke followed Gaeriel back toward the door. "Tell me about Madam Belden.

  How long has she been like this?"

  "Three years." Gaeri shook her head sadly. "Unfortunately, she was deeply

  involved in resistance to the Empire. She broke down when Roviden died. It...

  destroyed her."

  "Maybe that's why they let her live," he guessed.

  Gaeri's sharp chin tilted angrily. "You can't--"

  Madam Belden thrashed in her chair. "Don't leave without saying good-bye,

  " she cried.

  Wedged too tightly into the awkwardness to run away, Luke hurried back

  and knelt beside Madam Belden. He cleansed his mind of concern and desires and

  focused inward, examining Madam Belden's deep presence. It pulsed too

  powerfully for someone who needed full-time care. The mind remained, affecting

  the Force... creating a life pulse so strong that Luke guessed she had

  untrained strength of her own. But some of the links connecting mind to senses

  and communication didn't operate. They'd been severed. The Empire did this, he

  guessed.

  He blinked up into sad, watery eyes. Gaeriel was watching him from

  behind. If he used the Force, she might throw him out. Or she might begin to

  respect his abilities.

  Regardless of what Gaeriel wanted, Eppie Belden needed healing. Luke

  stroked the spotted, bony hand. Should he go on pretending to be her son? That

  seemed like a dangerous dishonesty, using the Force. "I want to show you

  something," he murmured, ignoring Gaeriel. That was hard. "If you can do this,

  you may be able to heal yourself."

  Her sense brightened and became eager.

  "No," he directed. "Be calm and still. Listen deep." He pressed into her

  awareness and showed her how he had healed himself, traveling in hyperspace...

  the silence, the focus, the strength... and he made certain she saw, even if

  she didn't understand, that he hadn't been able to do it perfectly. Then he

  turned her focus inward. Something has been damaged, he told her. I think the

  Empire did it. Find it. Heal it. Fight back, Eppie. May the Force be with you.

  Yoda would've called her "too old for training," but this wasn't training. Not

  exactly. And, Yoda, she's not going to go off chasing trouble like I did.

  A wave of her gratitude washed him out of her mind. He inhaled deeply and

  pushed up off his knees. Eppie Belden rested against her cushions, eyes

  closed, breathing tranquilly.

  "What did you do?" Gaeriel stood in an unconscious fighting stance.

  Luke studied her eyes. Somehow the gray one calculated while the green

  one looked angry. "There's still a very sharp awareness in there," he

  murmured. "I don't think her problem is natural. I really think she was

  harmed."

  Gaeriel hesitated. "Deliberately?"

  Luke nodded. Feeling her hostility swing away from him, he stayed silent

  a moment longer and let her process the implications. Someone had harmed her.

  Who but the Empire? Then he elaborated, "I know a little about self-healing. I

  showed her something she might try. That's all."

  "Is that so little for you?" she asked bitterly.

  A non-Jedi couldn't do that much. "I did nothing to her. My ^w as a... as

  an honorable man."

  At last she shrugged, dismissing the matter. "Come out here. Sit down."

  She strode through a door arch into a white-tiled dining room, both hands

  brushing her long vest as she walked. She motioned him past a fragrant,

  simmering tea warmer toward a seat at a transparent table. "If you can do so

  much with the Force," she said, "why don't you simply get into a fighter,

  blast your way onto the Ssi-ruuvi flagship, and get rid of them?"

  I might try it, if you told me to. He sighed away the impulse and

  explained, "If I used my powers in anger or aggression instead offor knowledge

  and defense, the dark side would take me. It took..." He strangled a terrible

  temptation. Some day, he must admit his ancestry. He almost wished he had it

  over with, but the time hadn't arrived when his humbling, provocative

  revelation would count for something. Telling Gaeriel would be disastrous. "It

  took many Jedi. They became agents of evil, and had to be hunted down."

  "I should've guessed." Gaeriel looked him up and down, then cocked an ear

  toward the open door.

  He might yet win her, through Eppie. "If she tries what I showed her, she

  might seem to sleep for... well, days."

  "That might be a blessing." Relaxing, Gaeri crossed her ankles under the

  table. "What did you need to talk with Orn about?"

  Oh, blast. Commanding the Flurry was easier than admitting this.
"Some of

  your people attacked some of mine at the spaceport this morning. Mine had

  Alliance aliens with them, and yours thought they were Ssi-ruuk. I suspect

  Governor Nereus found some Bakurans who like trouble, and tried to make some

  for them."

  He felt her suspicion. "Were there casualties?"

  "Two Bakurans. Princess Leia is making formal apology," he added hastily.

  "I wish we could do more. It shouldn't've happened." He glanced out a broad

  window. The morning sun was turning brilliant, but he felt chilly. He'd been

  warned. Somewhere out there, the Ssi-ruuk would soon be looking for him. He

  didn't think he was in any serious danger, but he still wasn't certain why

  they wanted him. What was he doing here, endangering Gaeriel and Madam Belden?

  "If Senator Belden has any thoughts on the incident, please have him contact

  me." He stood up. "I hope Madam Belden improves. What I sensed underneath her

  troubles..." He searched for ^ws. "I think I would have liked her. She was a

  fighter, wasn't she?"

  Gaeriel's left eyebrow arched.

  Great. He'd reminded her of his Jedi abilities again. Staring at the

  floor didn't help either, because her bare feet suggested a lighthearted

  spirit. Except when I'm around. "Thanks. I'd better leave."

  He glanced at Madam Belden on his way to the door. She hadn't moved.

  Gaeriel slipped out into the drab hallway behind him. "Luke," she murmured,

  "thank you for trying."

  "Luke"--she finally used my name. He hurried to the roof port with a

  lighter heart.

  Leia caught herself bustling as she led Threepio through a guarded door

  arch in the Bakur complex's old Corporation Wing. Artoo wheeled silently

  behind, and Han followed at rear guard. Reddish wood paneled Prime Minister

  Captison's inner office. His massive desk had been sawed freeform out of the

  weathered burl of some rain forest giant. He sat near its center, where a flat

  space had been carved and polished, and he was frowning.

  Was she that late? Abruptly she realized he was frowning at Threepio and

  Artoo, not at her. She brandished the restraining-bolt Owner to show Captison

  she had both droids under control. She'd also programmed Threepio not to speak

  until she rescinded the command. Asking him to keep quiet on his own just

  hadn't seemed kind--or plausible. "I'm sorry to have been delayed," she said.

  Captison wasn't a large man, but like Luke, he radiated assurance. "I