Star Wars - Truce at Bakura Read online

  She glared. "No use hiding anything from you, is there? We went walking.

  We talked. We... it's been hard to find time alone."

  Luke smiled, feeling bashful. "So this is what I missed. Growing up

  without siblings, I mean."

  Leia flicked the ends of her shawl. "It's good to have a brother. Someone

  to talk to."

  "You also have Han. Someone ought to pass on the family strengths," he

  added glumly. "It doesn't look like I'll get the chance any time soon."

  She laid a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong, Luke? Is it that senator?

  "

  "A Jedi feels no passion." Anyone who could manipulate his emotions could

  endanger him, making him unable to calm himself--unable to control. "But

  sometimes the Force obviously controls me, rather than the other way around.

  It favors life."

  "It is her. I was beginning to worry about you, Luke. You've been so...

  detached."

  Her insight made him squirm. The easiest way to distract her was to rile

  her. "You and Han," he said. "Let me ask you something I've no right to ask.

  You're not... opposed to having children some day, are you?"

  "Hey!" She snatched back her hand. "That isn't an issue."

  "Sorry. It's just that I've thought so much about it lately." He had?

  Amazing, what his subconscious would tell somebody else before it informed

  him. For a moment, he pictured himself as head of a clan of young Jedi

  apprentices with mismatched green, blue, and gray eyes. "But a child who's

  strong in the Force will have a great potential for evil too."

  "Of course." Leia sat down and flipped the ends of her shawl into her

  lap, then plucked a purple trumpet flower off a vine and sniffed it. "That's a

  risk humans have always had to ta ke. It's perilous to bring an intelligence

  into existence."

  "Doesn't it make you wonder how our mother dared it?"

  Her anger flared faintly, startling him. "Oh," she said lightly. "That

  reminds me, I'm supposed to deliver a message. I've seen Vader."

  "Vader?" Luke's mind went blank. "You saw... Father? Anakin Skywalker?

  Vader doesn't exist any more."

  "Have it your way, then. Anakin. But I saw him."

  A sense of loss wrenched him. Why had his father appeared to Leia, and

  not him? "What did he say?"

  She stared past him over the complex's edge. "I'm supposed to remind you

  that fear is of the dark side. He apologized to me, or tried to."

  Luke stared out over the city. "I only saw him once--j for a moment. He

  didn't speak."

  "Well, I don't claim any part of him, and I don't want him popping in on

  me."

  Luke mulled over his father's message. Fear is of the dark side.

  Gaeriel's fear of him It came from the dark side, too. "Hatred is also the

  dark side, Leia."

  "It's not wrong to hate evil."

  "Did his, um, did anything he said, well, have anything to do with... ah.

  " He stumbled to a halt. "Oh. I interrupted something when I called this

  morning, didn't I?"

  Even by dim starlight, he saw her cheeks flush. "It's been hard to find

  time alone," she repeated.

  "I'm sorry. But maybe Father accomplished something good, if he sent you

  to Han for comfort."

  "You can't say that. When I saw him, looking normal like that, I... I

  realized that a normal person became... what he was. That I could, too."

  "For the good side," he insisted. He brush-kissed her cheek. He'd loved

  her, long ago it seemed, before they learned what she refused to acknowledge.

  "I'll see you in the morning."

  "Hold on!" She straightened. "You're not sending me away."

  "Only for a while, Leia. Go to Han," he murmured. "I'll leave you alone."

  She stared into his eyes and took several breaths, plainly irritated.

  Finally she sprang up and hurried off.

  Luke glanced down at the circles of the city and up at a passing repulsor

  bus's lights, then clasped his hands in his lap and bent forward. "Father?" he

  whispered. The thought crossed his mind that he'd made his peace with Anakin.

  That would explain why he'd appeared to Leia instead.

  He started one of Yoda's meditations, concentrating his will deeper than

  himself. Personal troubles vanished in perspective, and the strength of the

  universe flowed through him. He had a sister; he wasn't alone. Some day, as he

  grew in the Force, real love would unite him with someone else of his own

  kind. Every emotion of either partner, every ripple of pleasure or pain, would

  bounce back from the other, resonating until sweet echoes faded.

  He opened his eyes and unclasped his hands. He hadn't lost Gaeriel yet.

  He would help her as he could, and if she rejected him, he'd leave Bakura with

  only faint regrets.

  Laughing unmatched eyes and swirling skirts danced in his mind. Who was

  he kidding?

  And what was he doing up here alone? He stood up and walked to a drop

  shaft.

  Dev stroked the sleek new entechment chair... or should he call this

  something else? Three dozen new chairs were under construction, to supplement

  the energy flow Skywalker would give them, but this one was special. More of

  an upright bed than a chair, a motor reclined it from zero to thirty degrees.

  Instead of a catchment arc it had in-built energy-attracting circuitry that

  would lie under Skywalker's back. Larger restraints stood open along its sides

  and near its foot, and other medical attachments enhanced its obvious design

  for the long-term survival of an occupant (they'd tested those parts

  yesterday). All silver and black, it glistened under brilliant cabin lights.

  "It's beautiful, Master Firwirrung."

  "I'm sorry, Dev," Firwirrung sang low. "I know this will hurt your

  feelings--"

  "I wish it were real, Master. But I know you need to test it. Let's

  begin."

  Firwirrung nodded his huge V-crested head.

  Dev had suggested most of the design features for initial installation

  and restraint. No catchment arc covered the bed, and it leaned back a few

  degrees from vertical. Cautiously he backed up to it. His left foot brushed an

  open binder. It snapped shut around his ankle. "It works!" Dev exclaimed.

  "Try the other," crooned Firwirrung.

  Dev watched this time. Out of a groove in the bed protruded a flexible

  black arch. He eased his right ankle toward it--

  Snap. That second catch activated another cycle he'd suggested. This one

  tipped the bed back twelve degrees. He relaxed and rode with it, arms crossed

  over his chest. As his torso touched another trip panel, a thicker restraint

  circled his waist. It held him down far more securely than the restraints on

  the old entechment chair.

  "Beautiful." Firwirrung swept closer and stroked the waistband with a

  foreclaw. "Is it firmly coupled?"

  Dev tried to twist his body. "Yes. But loose enough that I've no trouble

  breathing."

  "The human form is so odd," Firwirrung whistled merrily. Dev laughed with

  him. "Are you comfortable, Dev? We can only guess at.his size."

  "Oh, yes."

  "Left hand, now."

  He laid out his left arm. Another broad restraint swung rapidly and

  firmly into
place. Embedded in this one was a tangle of life-function sensor

  relays that his thin scaleless skin would not obstruct. Behind Firwirrung on a

  black bulkhead panel, pale lights started blinking. Firwirrung pivoted around

  and examined them. "Leave the right free," he instructed.

  How Dev wished he would really be enteched today. He envisioned the

  moment when he sparked to life behind eyes that would never close, but saw

  everything. Inside a new body that could do anything--and chose only to please

  its masters. Yesterday, they'd begun enteching immature and overage P'w'ecks

  off the other ships, preparing for the assault. Enteched P'w'ecks wouldn't

  last as long as humans, but numbers were needed--briefly.

  Firwirrung touched a red panel. Something stung the small of Dev's back.

  "That works, too," he called. That mechanism was also critical for long-term

  confinement, as was the upper-spine beamer. Now the procedure would not depend

  on disabling Skywalker's nervous system first.

  "Can you move your feet?"

  Dev peered down. The angle of tilt held them off the gray deck tiles. "I

  can't even feel them," he announced happily.

  "Good." Firwirrung swept closer. "Ah, Dev." He unhooked a clear tube from

  the bedside beside Dev's left shoulder. "I know how badly you wish this were

  real. I am sorry to tease you this way."

  "My time will come." Dev shut his eyes. He felt a little pressure at his

  throat, then a thrust that barely stung. He relaxed against the bed, savoring

  the sensation, while Firwirrung moved to the other side and repeated the

  motion. He wished, oh he wished...

  Yet an undercurrent of fear lurked behind his longing. His right hand

  trembled against his chest.

  Hearing a whoosh, he opened his eyes to see Bluescale and Admiral

  Ivpikkis stride in, followed by two P'w'ecks who dragged a limp human prisoner

  by his head and arms. Following Firwirrung's new procedure, they had already

  prepared him with a paddle beamer. That was the one who'd actually be

  enteched. Dev tried again to wiggle his toes and felt nothing. Perfect. For

  that poor frightened human's sake, he hoped he could do his part.

  "Review for me," demanded the admiral. "How will this differ from

  standard entechment?"

  Firwirrung pressed foreclaws together in front of his chest. "We believe

  that a Force-talented individual will be able to draw energy from a distance--

  a short distance, in Dev's case. If Dev is properly linked to catchment

  circuitry, the other subject's energies will flow through him, but Dev will

  remain unenteched and will be able to repeat the procedure indefinitely."

  "Not like the... chair, then." Ivpikkis glanced at it. Dev recalled how

  amused they'd been when he first described human furniture. P'w'ecks were

  enteched lying flat on the deck.

  "No," agreed Firwirrung. "The actual subject need not be caught. With

  Skywalker's involvement, the subject will not even need to be within the range

  of a tractor beam--or so we hope."

  "But for convenience's sake, we have caught and prepared this one. Is

  everything ready?" Bluescale's scent tongues flicked out of his nostrils

  toward the prisoner. The poor human was probably unclean.

  "It is." Firwirrung turned his V-crest toward Bluescale, his right eye

  toward Dev, and his left toward the P'w'ecks and their prisoner. Then he

  pulled down the main switch.

  Dev's throat burned. This time the servopumps injected not simple magsol

  but a solution of magsol and other factors. It should orient the entire

  nervous system toward the bed's in-built catchment circuit, drawing energy

  toward it. This eliminated the necessity of a catchment arc. First his neck,

  then his head, then his chest and his limbs felt the pull, rapidly becoming

  heavier as if gravity had shifted or the Shriwirr had reoriented. Abruptly he

  felt as if his upright bed had tipped. Firwirrung and the others looked for

  all the worlds as if they stood on the nearest bulkhead. The biogravity

  illusion virtually convinced his eyes. "I feel," he said, "as if every nerve

  in my body were being tugged toward the focus point. It hurts a little," he

  admitted.

  "That should not affect the catchment function. Are you ready to try

  funneling this human's energies into a battle droid?"

  "I'll try." The next best thing to entechment might be granting that gift

  to someone else. Dev shut his eyes and reached down past the discomfort for

  his center of control. Deeply and humbly aware of his limitations, he flailed

  through the Force toward the other human presence. It seemed like forever

  before he touched and embraced it. Letting the catchment circuitry pull

  through him, he used the Force to suck its energy into himself. For an

  instant, he felt huge and heavy. Twice as much pain pulsated in his nerves.

  Then the extra weight vanished. Panting, he opened his eyes wide. The prisoner

  lay limp on the deck.

  Admiral Ivpikkis stroked one foreclaw with the other. "Deck Sixteen?" he

  called.

  From the bulkhead came the ^ws Dev longed to hear. "It works." Ssi-ruuk,

  P'w'ecks, and Dev cheered with equal enthusiasm.

  "The next test," Firwirrung sang softly, "is whether we can force

  Skywalker to do our will, not his own. He is a far stronger Force user than

  our Dev, if Dev is correct in his reckoning."

  "He'd better be." Bluescale appeared to climb down the bulkheadstdeck

  toward him. Dev's right hand clenched involuntarily as the huge blue head bent

  close. The eye swirled. He fell in.

  Then, to his surprise, Bluescale stepped back. "Try it," he whistled.

  Firwirrung climbed down the bulkhead and held out a three-pronged knife

  used to declaw the small meat lizards they called Fft. He pressed its handle

  into Dev's free right hand.

  "Yes?" Dev felt no fear, only curiosity.

  "Stab it through your other palm."

  What could be more reasonable? He struggled to twist his body against the

  waist restraint, positioned the Fft knife, and drove it as deeply as he could.

  Bone crunched. Red human blood welled out along the blade. There was pain.

  "Leave it there," said Firwirrung.

  Dev rolled back into the ready position and waited for his next command.

  "Right arm."

  Dev snapped his free hand into place.

  Firwirrung pulled the knife out of Dev's palm, wiped it clean on Dev's

  robe, then slapped a piece of synthflesh--probably from a captured Imperial

  medpack--agst each side of Dev's wounded hand. Then he swiveled his head back

  uphill to Admiral Ivpikkis. "Do you think it will work on Skywalker?" asked

  Ivpikkis.

  "We have no reason to believe otherwise. The will for self-preservation

  is strong in all humans, and you saw how completely we overrode Dev's. The

  final test and most vital, of course, is how long a subject can remain alive

  in this state. We have only time for a brief simulation, but several hours

  should be sufficient for any degradation of life signs to begin."

  Admiral Ivpikkis twitched his tail and peered across at the bulkhead

  panel, then down at Dev. Dev managed a smile. Bluescale followed the admiral

  out. Firwirrung ord
ered one P'w'eck to remove the human corpse and the other

  to remain with Dev. "Alert me if any numbers change." He rapped the bulkhead

  panel with his curled foreclaw.

  Then he swept out.

  Several hours. Lying here, so close to genuine entechment.

  So uncomfortable. His nose itched, and he couldn't scratch it. No one had

  told him to. His hand throbbed hard enough to help him ignore the deep ache

  throughout his body. To pass time, he recited poetry he'd learned as a child.

  Mentally he translated it into Ssi-ruuvi, then pictured it in his special Ssi-

  ruuvi alphabet.

  Too soon, he ran out of poetry. His eyes felt as if they would fall

  through his brain and his skull into the catchment circuitry. Poor Skywalker

  doomed, like Dev, to survive without winning his own battle droid. Doomed by

  the same abilities.

  Dev sighed and started counting pulse beats by the throbs in his left

  hand.

  He lost track between four and five thousand. More time passed. The

  discomfort had long ago intensified to pain, and Firwirrung had not returned

  to check on him. Hurt and bewildered, he started counting again.

  He still couldn't scratch his nose. No one had told him to--

  Do it yourself, bonehead! Now that he could try, the inability to reach

  it maddened him. Why hadn't Firwirrung stayed? This was cruelty. Maybe if he

  held his breath long enough, he'd pass out and the dull-witted P'w'eck would

  notice a change in life signs. He inhaled until the waist restraint cut into

  him, then trickled it out. Empty, he closed his throat and held on.

  An intense electric shock jabbed across the arc between left and right

  wristbinders. He inhaled involuntarily.

  He'd suggested that mechanism. Irritated, he tried to pull his right hand

  free. He pressed his thumb against his smallest finger and wrenched his palm

  into the soft binder. Not far enough. He kept pulling. Three hundred

  heartbeats later, he gave up. He rested. He tried again.

  The hatch whooshed. Startled, Dev thrust his wrist back through the three

  millimeters he'd managed. Firwirrung entered first. Without even glancing at

  Dev, he stalked past the P'w'eck guard toward the bulkhead panel. Bluescale

  led another P'w'eck, who dragged a second prisoner.

  "Excellent." Firwirrung turned around. "All life signs steady. Describe

  the sensation now, Dev."

  "I hurt," he said thickly.