Star Wars - Truce at Bakura Page 26

  surprisingly fragile. You may carry him. He seems subdued."

  "Oh, thank you." Dev guessed at the right amount of enthusiasm to pump

  into his voice. He knelt and pulled Skywalker's arms over his shoulder.

  Skywalker, he projected again, are you all right?

  The Jedi did not answer. The buzz of his thoughts had shut off. He must

  be truly unconscious, then. The aliens had won... for the moment. Dev

  struggled to his feet. His anger boiled every time he remembered another

  abuse. They popped to the surface of his memory like foul bubbles. He couldn't

  let the Ssi-ruuk win--and not just for the sake of the galaxy. They owed him a

  life. A personality. A soul.

  "Good," said Bluescale. "Now help Firwirrung."

  Staggering already, Dev let the smaller alien lean on his shoulder.

  Firwirrung wobbled forward, covering his wounded forelimb with the intact

  foreclaw. The double weight sent new spasms down Dev's weakened back. He bit

  his tongue. He was supposed to be brainwashed. The Ssi-ruuk saw humankind,

  like P'w'ecks, as livestock... experimental animals... soulless.

  Bluescale bent and seized the lightsaber. What about the female? Dev

  guessed Bluescale wouldn't want to carry her. Skywalker's resistance had saved

  her, at least. With only Dev able to carry, the Ssi-ruuk wouldn't go looking

  for her. They must even leave their beheaded comrade behind.

  Bluescale led toward the kitchen doors, letting them swing back and bump

  Dev. He lost his balance and almost dropped his burden against a hot cooking

  surface. The ends of Skywalker's hair shriveled over its intense heat. By the

  time Dev had recovered his balance, the hissing green blade had vanished.

  Bluescale dropped the silent saber handgrip into his shoulder pouch, clipped

  the pouch around his body again, and proceeded between kitchen machines with

  his beamer drawn. Firwirrung stumbled against Dev. Dev racked his memory for

  an appropriate reaction. "Are you in pain, Master?" he asked softly.

  The alien grunted.

  Bluescale held the rear door for Firwirrung. Outside under a pall of

  spaceport dust stood the Imperial shuttle. Those now-stunned stormtroopers had

  flown it to the Shriwirr, then ferried the party planetside. The sirens had

  taken effect; Pad 12 and the others clustered around this cantina looked

  almost deserted. Two P'w'eck guards still stood beside the shuttle, hidden

  from observers by its drooping wings.

  "Help Dev secure the prisoner," Bluescale whistled. Dev limped up the

  ramp. The Jedi's cylindrical droid attempted to roll up after him, railing at

  them in Ssi-ruuvi. Two P'w'ecks shoved it over the ramp's edge. It landed with

  a crash and a final impotent threat. Dev pulled Skywalker into a rear seat,

  insisting to himself that he had not given up hope. The P'w'ecks snapped

  wristbinders onto the Jedi and then drew a flight harness around him.

  Unwatched for the moment, Dev checked again through the Force for life

  presence. Even unconscious, Skywalker's mind seemed warmer, brighter, louder

  than other humans'.

  What to do? If the Ssi-ruuk worked their will on Skywalker, humankind was

  doomed.

  Dev clenched his hands. That shot a paroxysm of pain up his left forearm.

  Was he strong enough to strangle the Jedi, while Firwirrung and Bluescale

  tried to fly the human shuttle?

  Perhaps he could, but he recoiled. That would be a Ssi-ruuvi trick.

  Skywalker was all Dev might have wished to be, if his mother had survived to

  apprentice him to a master. He couldn't kill Skywalker--except at the last

  moment, to keep the Ssi-ruuk from absorbing him.

  If that happened, Dev wouldn't have long to grieve for Skywalker. The

  Ssi-ruuk would kill him instantly.

  Yet humankind would live free if he and Skywalker died. Agonizing, he

  buckled into his own seat.

  "How's it going up there?" Leia called softly.

  "Almost through." Han perched on her reprogrammed repulsor chair directly

  over the bed. Delicately holding his vibroknife in one hand, he cut a broad

  oval in the wooden ceiling panel. A pale stream of sweet-smelling sawdust fell

  glittering onto the white bedcover. "There!" he exclaimed. He struck the

  ellipse with the palms of both hands, and it popped upward, showering him with

  more dust.

  "You're sure you can fit?" she asked.

  The chair rose. His head and shoulders vanished, then the rest of him. A

  moment later, his head and arms reappeared. "Looks good up here," he said.

  "Stand back." He touched the chair's controls.

  It crashed onto the bed. Leia gripped the blaster she'd stuck into her

  belt and waited for a guard to open the hall door, but none did. She climbed

  onto the bed, muscled the chair upright again, then switched it on. She rose

  in stately grace toward the hole Han had cut, then seized his arms and let him

  pull her through. They left the chair hovering.

  A crawl space crossed the building from end to end, its low sloping roof

  tapering to both sides. Dim daylight cast hazy rays in a large dusty room at

  one end. "Vents at each side," Han murmured. "Speeders are parked outside,

  around the corner to the right." He pointed toward the light. "Walk softly.

  They'll hear you."

  "No. Seriously?" she asked, loading her voice with sarcasm. She led

  forward on hands and knees, careful to set her weight silently on beams and

  joists. This attic felt more ancient than any human habitation she'd ever been

  in. She made the right turn around a thick wooden pillar, then crawled up to

  the vent. "Knife?" she whispered over her shoulder.

  Han drew the vibroknife and sliced cautiously through the large vent's

  snap bolts. "You take that end," he directed. "Pull it toward you."

  She pried inward with her fingernails until it jutted out far enough to

  grip, then together they pulled it free and set it silently in the dust beside

  a desiccated pile of insectoid exoskeletons. Han crouched, peering out the new

  hole, almost invisible in his sooty camouflage. She crouched closer.

  Several speeders sat halfway between the lodge and the outwall, with five

  troopers lounging around them. She eased sideways so she could see and point a

  blaster out the hole at the same time. He did the same. "Ready?" she asked.

  "Now," he whispered. She squeezed her trigger. Got one. Got two. Another

  fell. The fourth and fifth dove behind a grounded speeder.

  "Here goes nothin'." Han plunged through. Blaster bolts whined. Leia

  spotted the trooper shooting at Han and dropped him. The other kept his head

  down. Han jumped up and ran for the near speeder. A flash of light clipped his

  left foot.

  She leaped, rolled to break her fall, and then sprang to one side.

  Another blaster bolt scorched the ground where she'd landed. She whirled

  around and shot back, but the trooper ducked.

  The roar of a speeder caught her attention. She zigzagged toward it and

  scrambled on board, then grabbed an acceleration rail. Something stank like

  burnt boot leather. Instantly, Han wrenched the throttle and lifters. They

  soared over the compound's walls.

  "Did they get you?" she shouted over wind noise as moody green forest

&nbs
p; passed underneath. The view south stretched over foothills, city, and emerald

  plains toward a hint of blue ocean. Smoke rose from several sources midcity.

  "Don't think it burned through the sole," he answered tightly. She eyed

  his sooty, wind-whipped face and recognized pain.

  She could do nothing till they reached the Falcon. He was obviously

  functioning. "Life with you's never dull." She stroked his scratchy chin.

  He managed a smile. "Couldn't have that," he called. The wind blew his

  ^ws back at the forest.

  Leia glanced away. The speeder's roar seemed to change pitch. No, it was

  another one. "Han--"

  "We've got company," Han interrupted. "Over there."

  "There's one on my side, too--no, three of them!"

  They were surrounded. "So it.was a trap." Han grimaced. "They can shoot

  us down and get rid of us for good."

  "Escaping arrest," Leia agreed aloud.

  "Hang on!" Han spun the speeder in a tight arc back up into the

  foothills. Two more Imperial craft appeared in front of them. Han pulled back

  on the altitude control, climbing and turning simultaneously. Leia twisted

  around in her seat and fired at one speeder. She felt like a trapped animal

  with the pack closing in, and nothing to fight with but her teeth and

  fingernails.

  Her stomach swooped up through her midsection as Han flipped the speeder

  through the top of the arc. "No good," he shouted. "They've got hot military

  models." Something bright and noisy, a streak of laser-cannon energy, passed

  beside them on the starboard side.

  Shedding altitude at a dizzying pace, Han steered for the treetops. "When

  I say jump, jump. Hide behind some rocks or--"

  "Han!" she exclaimed. "Reinforcements!" A pair of tiny X-winged

  silhouettes dropped out of the cloudy blue sky. X-wing space fighters had

  twice the speed and firepower of those landbased speeders....

  Instantly Han pulled the speeder up again and pushed for altitude. "The

  minute they spot 'em--"

  Sure enough, the Imperials scattered. "Wish we had a comlink," Leia

  muttered. "They almost act like somebody sent them here. Maybe Luke?"

  "Wouldn't surprise me," Han muttered. He steered down the drainage toward

  the wide river. An X-wing swept into position at his three o'clock, and the

  other came in at nine o'clock high.

  Leia waved. Inside the slanting cockpit, a slim black-gloved hand waved

  back.

  Their escort looked incongruous this close to a green planetary surface.

  Leia recalled Yavin, and the hidden groundside Rebel base where she'd waited

  for the first Death Star to attack.

  Where the river curved southeast, just north of Salis D'aar, both

  fighters soared again toward space. "They don't want to be seen this close to

  the city," Leia observed. "It'd alarm the Bakurans."

  "Glad somebody's thinking," answered Han.

  Thanks, Luke. It was still just a guess, but Leia felt confident about

  it.

  "Shortest route to the Falcon is right through downtown," Han observed.

  "If the locals try to stop us for violating curfew, they're going to have a

  rough time."

  Salis D'aar's ground routes, including a high bridge connecting the white

  cliff with the western side of the broad river, teemed with slow vehicles--

  probably families moving their worldly goods north into the mountains, curfew

  or no curfew. Leia wished momentarily that they could stop by the complex. She

  hated leaving the Ewoks' bracelet behind, but it wasn't worth risking her

  life.

  They met little air traffic. "Anybody who could fly out already did," Han

  guessed.

  "Where are the droids?"

  "Artoo's probably still in Captison's office." Then he explained what

  he'd done with Threepio.

  She laughed, picturing his arrival at the Falcon. "I only hope Chewie

  didn't blast him before he spoke up."

  "He's got my comlink. I'm sure he took care of himself."

  Shreds of dusty smoke covered the spaceport from hundreds of blastoffs.

  Han steered down into the murk and landed practically on top of the Falcon. It

  wasn't guarded, except by one lone Wookiee. "Where's Threepio?" Leia

  exclaimed.

  Chewbacca snorted and snarled. "You what?" Han answered. "Chewie, we've

  got to dump his Flutie-talk program onto the Falcon's computer!"

  Chewbacca howled, sounding apologetic.

  "Yeah, I should've. Well, fix him up."

  Chewie had blasted him. Too late for regrets. Leia dashed up the ramp

  behind Chewbacca. "I hope it's fueled," she exclaimed as she dropped into her

  high-backed seat.

  Chewbacca bellowed. "Topped up and ready for a trip to the Core," Han

  translated as he hobbled into the cockpit. "Do what you can for Threepio,

  Chewie. Leia, strap down."

  Leia's seat began to vibrate. The engines' roar mounted.

  "Chewie, wait! Any new modifications?" Han shouted.

  His partner woo-woofed from behind her.

  "Oh." Han sounded appreciative. "That should come in handy. Where did you

  patch it in?"

  Chewie reappeared in the corridor, rolled his eyes at the overhead

  panels, then answered.

  "You sliced out what?"

  "Now what?" Leia asked.

  "Ah, he got a Bakuran tech to give us more power to energy shields, but

  that increased the hyperdrive multiplier. As soon as we're out of here," he

  insisted, leveling a finger at Chewie, "that goes back to specs. My specs."

  All Leia wanted now was speed insystem. "Falcon's coming up," she

  snapped. "Let's move it."

  CHAPTER 17

  "Now the left leg."

  Obediently Gaeriel wiggled her toes.

  The Imperial medic frowned, pressed Gaeri's head back with inexorable

  professional gentleness, and reexamined the faint burn across the hollow of

  her throat. "Some kind of nervous-system ionization, I suppose. That's what

  I'll put on the report."

  She coughed. "May I go now?"

  "I'm sorry. We've been asked to keep you here a little longer, under

  observation."

  "What's going on? I heard a siren."

  "They've struck at the orbital station."

  Then it had begun. She gazed around the bare room. Four white walls and a

  distant ceiling, no windows, one door. The emergency patrol had brought her

  back to the complex on a repulsor stretcher. Before that, her most vivid

  memory was of Luke advancing toward four armored stormtroopers. Then the civil

  defense alarm. Then the droid dragged her outdoors to safety, and she'd lain

  alone for a long, long time, until the emergency patrol reached the cantina.

  By then, Skywalker and the Ssi-ruuk had vanished in the Imperial shuttle...

  and she could almost move again.

  But it was over, humankind doomed. They'd taken Luke. She couldn't

  imagine even a Jedi with enough power to singlehandedly resist... whatever

  they hoped to do with him. Would they try to make him a superdroid? Maybe they

  would fail.

  But even if they didn't, she'd rather die here on Bakura than a Ssi-ruuvi

  prisoner. Her depression hardened to resolve. Nothing and no one could

  threaten her now.

  The medic slipped out. Gaeri slid down from the be
d and limped to the

  door. All her muscles seemed functional again, but her movements lagged behind

  her intentions. She touched the door's sensor panel.

  Locked.

  They couldn't mean to hold her here long. The room didn't even have...

  Now that she'd thought about comfort facilities, she wished she hadn't. She

  considered Eppie, running a revolt from a keyboard in a shabby apartment.

  Would she have time? The Bakur complex sprawled across the heart of Salis

  D'aar, with dozens of entrances How did she mean to get control of it--or did

  she? She only needed control of Wilek Nereus. Commander Thanas and the space

  forces were already offplanet, defending Bakura--

  Her thoughts spun to a dejected halt. There'd be no defense against the

  Ssi-ruuk now.

  The door opened. Two naval troopers stepped through. "Come," ordered one.

  Gaeriel followed him past a medical station and up a hallway. Soon she

  realized where they were taking her, and she resisted the temptation to bolt.

  She'd always managed to avoid Governor Nereus's private office. She'd heard

  disturbing rumors. And then there were Nereus's subtle attentions....

  The lead trooper opened the governor's door and motioned her inside. She

  walked in calmly. Better to die on Bakura, but die fighting.

  Governor Nereus sat at a desk with a polished, off-white surface. Faint

  brownish veins on it made concentric circles, like tree rings, but it didn't

  look like wood. He silently motioned her to a chair and watched the troopers

  leave.

  A framed tri-D on the nearest wall caught her attention first a huge,

  snarling carnivore. Its four long white fangs looked eerily substantial.

  "The Ketrann," said Nereus. "Of Alk'lellish III."

  "The teeth. Are they... real?"

  "Yes. Look around you."

  Above and beyond the tri-D hung others like it, with here and there a

  simply arrayed full set of teeth. "This is your collection, then?"

  "Predator species. I have seventeen worlds, including the Bakuran

  Cratsch." He tapped a clear cube at one corner of his desk. "On that wall--"

  He pointed left at another set of tri-D images. "Intelligent aliens." She

  thought of the Wookiee Chewbacca's huge canines and frowned. "And the most

  dangerous predator." He tossed her a multifaceted crystal. Inside gleamed two

  pair of human incisors.

  She wanted to throw it at him, but resisted. She might cause more