Star Wars - Truce at Bakura Read online

  hope you were able to take care of your personal problem."

  "Yes, thank you."

  He extended his hands toward two repulsor chairs. Han pushed one toward

  her, then took the other one. Sideways. I love you, Nerf Herder, Leia silently

  repeated as she sat down on the gently bobbing seat. "I must make a formal

  apology for the deaths this morning. May I contact the families of the

  fighters who were killed?"

  One corner of Captison's mouth twitched up as he watched Han. "I think

  that would be appreciated. Yes, I'll arrange it for you. There has also been a

  reconfiguration of Ssi-ruuvi ships outside our defense web," Captison added.

  "The web reconfigured to compensate. So much I hear from Commander Thanas, at

  any rate."

  Leia caught Han's sidelong glance. "Does he report to you and Governor

  Nereus?" Han asked.

  Captison shrugged. "I've asked him to. Seems the least he could do."

  Leia puffed out a breath. "Maybe you don't know how unusual it is for an

  Imperial officer to pay the slightest attention to the people he's allegedly

  defending."

  "Really."

  Maybe Captison did know. Maybe he'd cultivated Commander Pter Thanas. "At

  any rate, here are the droids I offered. May we try translating whatever you

  have?"

  "I'm not fond of droids," Captison said drily. "But at this point I'm

  willing to use them, if there's a chance they could help."

  She shot at Threepio with the Owner. It whirred softly.

  As if he'd never been silenced, Threepio chimed in. "I am fluent in over

  six million forms of communication, sir."

  Leia had heard that sentence so many times she'd forgotten how impressive

  it was. Captison's sudden interest reminded her. "That's right, Your Highness

  said so over dinner." He touched a panel on his desktop console. "Zilpha, key

  in those ship-to-ship recordings we picked up from the Fluties." He leaned

  back in his chair and explained, "We've got plenty of their chatter. Sounds

  like a flock of birds--great big ugly ones, with deep voices."

  "Well, if anyone's good at talking, it's our Goldenrod." Han rapped

  Threepio's metal shoulder.

  Threepio's head whipped toward him. "Thank you, General Soloffwas

  A light changed color beside Captison's elbow. "Here we go. Have your

  droid listen to this."

  "You can talk to him directly," Leia put in. "His full designation is

  See-Three-Pee-Oh, and he answers to Threepio."

  "All right," said Captison. "Listen, Threepio. Tell me what they're

  saying."

  The console emitted a series of whistles, clicks, and grunts, some as

  high as an alto voice, and others eerily basslike. The "Flutie" played a very

  large instrument. As Leia listened, she stared around Captison's office. His

  dual windows looked down on a round park scattered with stone figures.

  Bordering the clear window panels, tall leafy trees with straight trunks had

  been executed in three-dimensional colored glass. Namana trees, she guessed.

  Threepio's head cocked. He shook it. "I am sorry, Prime Minister, but I

  can make nothing of it. It is entirely outside my comprehension. I have been

  in service for many years, and I can communicate in every language ever used

  within Republican or Imperial space."

  "Our Fluties are from outside Republican and Imperial space," Captison

  declared. "I believe that was mentioned."

  Han rubbed his chin. Leia couldn't think what to say.

  From behind her came a whistling echo. Startled, she spun around. Artoo

  stood his place in a wood-paneled corner, warbling what seemed to be a perfect

  imitation of Prime Minister Captison's recording.

  "Threepio," she said when Artoo finished, "wasn't that exactly how the

  Ssi-ruuk sounded?"

  "No," Threepio answered firmly. "He missed one note by a full four

  vibrations."

  Artoo honked.

  "Soak your own transistors," Threepio retorted. "I won't stand for that

  language."

  Captison raised a white eyebrow. "It can duplicate them that closely?"

  "I wouldn't doubt Artoo, though it never occurred to me that he'd be able

  to do that," Leia admitted. "Sir, I'm certain that given enough time and

  recordings, Threepio could make a solid effort at decoding that language."

  "If he can," Captison said, pointing at the little blue-domed droid,

  "we've got a native speaker if we need one. Take your metal friends to my

  aide's office. Zilpha will set them up with enough recordings to keep them

  busy well into tomorrow night."

  Governor Wilek Nereus bit the end off a namana twist and chewed

  thoughtfully. In this cool greenway lined with tall fern trees and passion-bud

  vines, he could momentarily ignore the menace surrounding Bakura and ponder

  his own career. With both Palpatine and Vader dead, the Rebel Alliance--

  downtalked so disdainfully on all official communiqu@es--bbcame rather more of

  a threat.

  Still, all odds favored the Empire, and he had two high Rebel leaders

  within striking distance. He could weaken the Alliance substantially.

  He thrust the distraction aside. Strolling down the greenway, he returned

  to his original thought path. Someone new would undoubtedly spring onto the

  Imperial throne. Nereus would've cautiously evaluated the risk of attempting

  that leap himself, except that this far out on the Rim, he didn't stand a

  chance... and anyone who jumped and failed was ruined or dead. So he must

  watch for a new emperor to emerge, flatter and praise him, and meanwhile make

  Bakura a shining example of pacified, profitable enterprise.

  If the Ssi-ruuk didn't take it away. He despised them on principle, even

  without the entechment complication. As a youth, he'd pursued two hobbies

  alien parasitology and alien dentition. The Empire had quietly used both

  talents. Aliens were creatures to dissect or fight--not to ally with.

  His aide snapped to attention several paces away from the southeast

  greenway's central fountain. Nereus had issued strict orders that he was not

  to be disturbed, and he let t he messenger wait. He'd come here to enjoy a few

  minutes' peace, and by all the forces and balances that those idiots

  worshiped, he was going to have it.

  He took another fruity bite and stared into the fountain's heart,

  measuring the pleasant glow the candy gave him. He controlled his namana

  habit nectar in the evenings only, and only two candy breaks a day, usually

  here by the fountain. Water leaped from a hundred sonic motivators in gravity-

  defying swirls, finally captured by Bakura and pulled into the turbulent blue

  pool.

  The Empire could weather turbulence too. Nereus's Imperial colleagues had

  made the galactic bureaucracy self-perpetuating; and employed by the Empire,

  Wilek Nereus would rise farther, grasp more authority, and wield more power

  than in any other system of government. Therefore, he would sell anyone and

  anything to keep the Empire on Bakura. The loss of another Death Star peeved

  him. Fear was his ultimate tool for keeping Bakura subdued.

  Well, the natives were afraid now. Sighing, he turned to the aide. "It's

  important, I trust."

  "Sir." The aid
e saluted. "You have a personal message waiting on holo

  from the Ssi-ruuvi fleet."

  The Fluties had captured several Imperial ships since sending the

  Sibwarra recording, so now they had access to Imperial holonet. "Idiot,"

  Nereus snapped, "why didn't you speak up? I'll take it at my desk."

  The aide pulled a communicator from his belt to relay the reception

  order. Nereus marched up the greenway's mossy path. Two uniformed guards held

  glass doors open at the corner of a long, artificially lit tunnel connecting

  this greenway with the other. Nereus strode sharply left, then left again

  through his personal staff's station and into his broad-windowed private

  office.

  On the holonet reception pad alongside his desk, a green light blinked.

  He straightened his collar and whisked one hand over the rank insignia on his

  chest to make sure they hadn't picked up any passion-bud pollen, then swiveled

  his repulsor chair to face the transmission pickup. "Receive," he told his

  desk. He curled his hands around his armrests. What did the Fluties want now?

  A meter-high, translucent figure appeared over the reception grid human,

  in striped white robes. "Governor Nereus." The figure bowed at its waist.

  "Perhaps you remember me, I'm--"

  "Dev Sibwarra," Nereus growled. Now that was an alien parasite. "I know

  you as well as I want to. What joyful news do you have this time?"

  Sibwarra shook his head. "Less joyful than before, I fear, but perhaps in

  the short run it will please you better. The mighty Ssi-ruuk, seeing your

  hesitancy to join the Imperium's quest for galactic unity, to experience

  freedom from physical limitations--"

  Nereus snatched a long ivory Llwelkyn tooth off a pile of flimsies. "Make

  your point."

  Sibwarra extended one palm. "Admiral Ivpikkis is willing to move our

  fleet out of your system, if you'll grant us one boon."

  "Keep talking." Nereus fingered the tooth's serrated slashing edge. If

  the holo had been flesh, he could've sliced it just... so....

  "Among the new visitors in your system is a man named Skywalker. If you

  can hand him over to a special Ssi-ruuvi delegation, we will leave

  immediately."

  Nereus made a deprecating sound. "What do they want him for?"

  Sibwarra cocked his head and squinted, looking reptilian. "We simply mean

  to rid you of an unpleasant presence."

  "I don't believe that for an instant." Still, if the aliens went

  elsewhere for human droid-charges--he might suggest Endor--then Bakura

  returned to status quo, he remained in power, and he could alert the Empire to

  oncoming danger.

  Sibwarra said, "I'm told to admit that he would be useful in certain

  experiments."

  "Oh. Certainly." Hah. Whatever they really wanted Skywalker for, it had

  to have something to do with entechment. He trusted neither Sibwarra nor his

  reptilian hosts. If they wanted Skywalker, they mustn't get him.

  Yet surely he could work this proposition to his advantage. "I will need

  time to arrange things." Killing Skywalker outright was one option. Or... yes,

  he could help the Ssi-ruuk take the young Jedi, but ensure that he died before

  they made use of him, killing two dangerous birds with one carefully planned

  strike.

  But would Rebel officers serve Thanas, if their Commander vanished with

  the alien fleet? He tapped the long tooth. They would, if it were their only

  hope of survival.

  Still squinting, Sibwarra pressed his palms together and touched his

  fingers to his chin. "Would a day be sufficient to make your arrangements?"

  Nereus despised him. "I believe so. Contact me again tomorrow noon, local

  time."

  Three quick raps on Gaeriel's office door interrupted her effort to

  regain a lost morning's work. Luke Skywalker's intimation that the Imperials

  took Eppie Belden's mind had preyed on her all the way back to the complex.

  Immediately on arriving, she'd checked Eppie's criminal record. Every rabble-

  rouser arrested during the takeover or the purges had one, even including

  Uncle Yeorg (a very minor offense).

  But not Eppie. Either it had vanished or it was under an extremely high-

  level security seal. Why would the Empire bother covering up?

  She put her revenue-revue program on "hold, security" and called, "Come

  in."

  A slim woman in a dark green jumpsuit glanced over her shoulder and then

  slipped through the glide door.

  Gaeriel sat straighter. "Aari. What is it?"

  "Monitor," Aari mouthed. "Nereus's office."

  Gaeriel motioned Aari closer. Her aides had broken several of Governor

  Nereus's security systems, but surely his aides had ears in her office as

  well. "What did you hear?"

  Aari's lips brushed Gaeriel's ear as she whispered, "The Ssi-ruuk just

  made Nereus an offer if he'd turn Commander Skywalker over to them."

  A lump of ice formed in Gaeri's stomach. Luke Skywalker had seen the

  Emperor die. Obviously he was not simply a new Jedi. He had to be one of the

  pivotal individuals in the Alliance... in the changing galaxy.

  So what did they want him for? Gaeri curled her toes tightly inside her

  shoes. Luke had deliberately risked her goodwill by using his powers to help

  Eppie, and frankly she admired his decision. If Jedi were self-serving at

  heart, why had he acted on his conscience despite her disapproval, when he so

  obviously - - and frighteningly--hoped to befriend her?

  Evidently the Ssi-ruuk thought they could handle him. If so, any human--

  even Wilek Nereus--ought to know to keep Luke away from them. Either Nereus

  didn't understand what surrendering Skywalker could mean to humankind or he

  was obsessed with getting Alliance people off his world, or...

  Or he'd try to kill Luke before they could abduct him. The third

  possibility meant Luke Skywalker, whatever he was, had no time left.

  Should she warn him? To do nothing would give weight to Governor Nereus's

  side of the Balance. To aid Skywalker might unweight the rest of the universe.

  But it was hard to think in universal terms when danger threatened the

  Bakuran people. Luke had finally convinced her that he'd do everything in his

  power to help Bakura repel the Ssi-ruuk. "Thank you, Aari." She stood up and

  checked her chrono. Sensible people would already be eating dinner. "I'll take

  care of this."

  CHAPTER 12

  Luke trudged down the white stone corridor toward their apartment suite.

  After talking to Gaeriel and Madam Belden, he'd spent the rest of the morning

  and half the afternoon reasoning with shop supervisors. His reputation as a

  Jedi was obviously getting around. They'd given him grudging respect for

  getting his hands greasy with them--t had been the highlight--then let him

  sandwich all the remaining A-wings onto that day's service schedule. Luke

  suspected that Bakura's best repair teams had been shuttled up to the Imperial

  cruiser Dominant.

  Then, without a chance to clean up, he'd had to help his quartermaster

  provision the battle group, spending the nonexistent collateral of a maybe-

  someday government. He'd've given a lot for Leia's help on that one. All this

  whi
le watching over his shoulder for the Ssi-ruuk and pondering what the

  dream-warning really meant. No wonder his barely healed body ached.

  A pair of Imperial stormtroopers stood guard in the broad lobby outside

  the suite, blast rifles slung across their chests. Weary as he was, his

  adrenaline surged. Quicker than thought, he went for his lightsaber.

  Then thought caught up. He dropped his hands to his sides, fingers

  spread. "Sorry," he murmured to the near guard. "Not used to this."

  "Understood, sir." The Imperial stood back. Luke slipped inside, then

  spun through the common room to his bedroom and fell onto the repulsor bed,

  laughing off his tension. He'd never heard of such a preposterous situation.

  His apartment, guarded by "friendly" stormtroopers?

  He stared across the room and through a huge window, wondering what his

  Uncle Owen would've given for a rain shower like the one that'd just started.

  Early summer on Bakura would've been heaven on Tatooine.

  A message light blinked on his personal console. Sighing, he called it

  up. Senior Senator Belden requested his presence at an early dinner.

  Luke groaned. Gaeriel must've relayed his message, but he was too late.

  He'd barely have time to rush over if he didn't clean up. He needed to speak

  with the elderly senator--if nothing else, to discuss his wife's medical

  history.

  Luke keyed in a polite request to see him tomorrow, sent it, then bent

  over to pull off his boots. The door chime rang. "No!" he whispered irritably.

  Their guide had shown him how to use the bedroom console to scrutinize

  callers. He poked several buttons but couldn't make it work. Wishing he didn't

  feel so greasy, he hustled through the common room and answered it himself.

  Gaeriel stood half turned away from the door as if she'd rather keep

  walking than speak with him. She carried a tightly woven string satchel

  against her blue skirt, and as before, her very presence made his Force sense

  tingle. "Commander?" she asked tentatively. "May I speak with you for a few

  moments?"

  Luke back stepped away from the Imperial guards' inquisitive eyes.

  "Please."

  Once the door shut, she cupped her hands around her mouth and whispered,

  "You're monitored. We're about to disappear." She lifted the satchel and held

  it open. Inside was a gray box like the one at the Beldens' apartment. She