Star Wars - Truce at Bakura Read online

  Firwirrung nodded sagely. "Much kindness," he whistled back. His scent

  tongues flicked out of his nostrils, taste-smelling Dev's presence. "Stretch

  out, Dev. What do you see tonight in the hidden universe?"

  Dev smiled weakly. The master meant it as a compliment. All Ssi-ruuk were

  Force blind. Dev knew now that he was the only sensitive, human or otherwise,

  they'd ever met.

  Through him, the Ssi-ruuk had learned of the Emperor's death moments

  after it happened. Because the Force existed in all life, he'd felt the shock

  wave of power ripple through spirit and space.

  Months ago, His Potency the Shreeftut had responded immediately when

  Emperor Palpatine offered prisoners in exchange for tiny, two-meter droid

  fighters of his own. Palpatine couldn't have known how many dozen million Ssi-

  ruuk lived on Lwhekk, in their distant star cluster. Admiral Ivpikkis captured

  and questioned several Imperial citizens. This human Empire, he learned,

  stretched out for parsecs. Its star systems lay like nesting sands, fertile

  for the planting of Ssi-ruuvi life.

  But then the Emperor died. There would be no bargain. The traitorous

  humans had abandoned them to get home as best they could, with the fleet's

  energy almost spent. Admiral Ivpikkis had come ahead with the battle cruiser

  Shriwirr and a small advance force, only half a dozen attack ships with

  supporting entechment equipment. The main fleet hung back, waiting for news of

  success or failure.

  If they could take a major human world, that entechment equipment--Master

  Firwirrung's domain--wd give them the human Empire. Bakura, when it fell,

  would provide the technology to construct dozens of entechment chairs. Each

  enteched Bakuran would power or shield a battle droid fighter or vitalize some

  critical ship component on one of the large cruisers. With dozens of

  entechment teams trained and equipped, the Ssi-ruuvi fleet could take the

  humans' populous Core worlds. There were a dozen thousand planets to liberate.

  So much kindness to accomplish.

  Dev almost worshiped his masters' courage in coming so far and risking so

  much for the good of the Ssi-ruuvi Imperium and the liberation of other

  species. If a Ssi-ruu died away from a consecrated home world, his spirit

  roamed the galaxies alone forever.

  Dev shook his head and answered, "Outside, I sense only the quiet winds

  of life itself. Aboard the Shriwirr, mourning and confusion in your new

  children."

  Firwirrung stroked Dev's arm, his three opposable claws barely reddening

  the tender scaleless skin. Dev smiled, empathizing with his master. Firwirrung

  had no clutchmates on board, and the military life meant lonely hours and

  terrible risks. "Master," Dev said, "maybe--some day--might we return to

  Lwhekk?"

  "You and I might never go home, Dev. But soon we will consecrate a new

  home world in your galaxy. Send for our families..." As Firwirrung glanced at

  the sleeping pit, a whiff of acrid reptilian breath trailed across Dev's face.

  Dev didn't flinch. He was used to that smell. His own body odors sickened

  the Ssi-ruuk, so he bathed in and drank special solvents four times daily. For

  special occasions, he shaved all his hair. "A clutch of your own kind," he

  murmured.

  Firwirrung cocked his head and stared with one black eye. "Your work

  brings me closer to that clutch. But for now, I am weary."

  "I'm keeping you awake," Dev said, instantly repentant. "Please get your

  rest. I'll come along soon."

  Once Firwirrung lay nested in his cluster of pillows, with his body

  warmed by bel-deck generators and triple eyelids sheltering the beautiful

  black eyes, Dev took his evening bath and drank his deodorizing medication. To

  take his mind off the abdominal cramps that always followed, he pulled his

  chair over to a long, curved deskstcounter. He withdrew an unfinished book

  from the library and loaded it into his reader.

  For months, he'd been working on a project that might serve humankind

  even better than he served it now (in fact, he feared that the Ssi-ruuk would

  entech him into circuits to complete this work rather than into the battle

  droid he hoped to earn).

  He'd known how to read and write before the Ssi-ruuk adopted him, both

  letters and music. Combining those symbologies, he was devising a system to

  write Ssi-ruuvi for human usage. On the musical staff, he noted pitches.

  Symbols he'd invented signified labial, full-tongue, half-tongue, and guttural

  whistles. Letters showed vowels and final-click blendings. Ssi-ruu required a

  full line of data The half-tongue whistle rose a perfect fifth while the

  mouth formed the letter e. Then a puckered labial whistle, down a minor third.

  Ssi-ruu was the singular form. The plural, Ssi-ruuk, ended with a throat-

  click. Ssi-ruuvi was complex but lovely, like birdsong from Dev's youth on the

  outpost planet G'rho.

  Dev had a good ear, but the complicated task invariably overwhelmed him

  at the late hour of his free time. As soon as the cramping and nausea passed,

  he shut down his glowing reader and crawled in the dark toward the faint fetid

  smell of Firwirrung's bed pit. Too warm-blooded, he stacked a pile of pillows

  to insulate him from the quarters' bel-deck heat. Then he curled up far from

  his master and thought of his home.

  Dev's abilities had caught his mother's attention from a very early age,

  back on Chandrila. A Jedi apprentice who hadn't completed her training, she'd

  taught him a little about the Force. He'd even communicated with her over

  distances.

  Then came the Empire. There'd been a purge of Jedi candidates. The family

  fled to isolated G'rho.

  Barely had they settled in when the Ssi-ruuk arrived. Her Force sense

  vanished, leaving him far from home and bereft and terrified of the invading

  spaceships. Master Firwirrung had always said that his parents would've killed

  Dev if they could, rather than let the Ssi-ruuk adopt him. Terrifying thought-

  -theirthe own child!

  But Dev had escaped death on both counts. The Ssi-ruuvi scouts found him

  huddling in an eroded ravine. Fascinated by the giant lizards with round black

  eyes, the undersize ten-year-old had taken their food and affection. They'd

  shipped him back to Lwhekk, where he had lived for five years. Eventually, he

  learned why they hadn't enteched him. His uncanny mental abilities would make

  him an ideal scout for approaching other human systems. They also allowed him

  to calm entechment subjects. He wished he remembered what he'd said or done

  that revealed his talent.

  He'd taught the Ssi-ruuk all he knew about humankind, from mind-set and

  customs to clothing (including shoes, which amused them). Already he'd helped

  them take several human outposts. Bakura would be the key world... and they

  were winning! Soon, the Bakuran Imperials would run out of fighting ships and

  the Ssi-ruuk could approach Bakura's population centers. A dozen P'w'eck

  landing craft carried paralysis canisters, ready to drop.

  Over a standard hailing frequency, Dev had already announced to Bakurans

  the good news of their impending release fr
om human limitations. Master

  Firwirrung said it was only normal that they resisted. Unlike Ssi-ruuk, humans

  feared the unknown. Entechment was a change from which there was no returning

  to report.

  Dev yawned mightily. His masters would protect him from the Empire, and

  some day reward him. Firwirrung had promised to stand beside him and lower the

  catchment arc himself.

  Dreamily, Dev stroked his throat. The IV'S would go... here. And here.

  Some day, some day.

  He covered his head with his arms and slept.

  CHAPTER 3

  Star streaks shrank on Luke's triangular forward viewscreen as the Flurry

  and her seven escorts dropped out of hyperspace. Once he'd checked deflector

  shields, he swung his chair to get the master computer's insystem status

  report, while Captain Manchisco's communications officer scanned standard

  Imperial hailing frequencies. Luke felt better, so long as he moved slowly.

  Scanners showed eight planets, none at the spot in its orbit where

  Alliance Masterationav had projected. Now he was glad Manchisco had overruled

  his impatience, planned cautiously, and dropped out of lightspeed in the outer

  system. She shot him a meaningful look. He touched one eyebrow in salute, then

  nodded at the Duro navigator, who blinked his huge red eyes and gargled

  unintelligibly.

  "He says you're welcome," translated Manchisco.

  Half a dozen blistered ovoids clustered around the system's third world,

  surrounded on his screens by a virtual sandstorm of small fighters. They all

  gleamed red for "threat," but they maneuvered crazily on the screen, breaking

  formation and regrouping, approaching and fleeing. Obviously they weren't all

  on the same side. He glanced at General Dodonna's brainchild, the Battle

  Analysis Computer. He'd agreed to bring along a BAC prototype, and now he

  needed data to run it.

  "Looks like a party, Junior," came Han's voice from the speaker at his

  elbow.

  "I'm with you," Luke answered. "We're hailing the Imperials now. No

  sense--"

  "Sir," interrupted the communications man.

  "Hang on." Luke swiveled away from Han's speaker and got a leg cramp for

  his trouble. He was almost healed. "Did you raise someone?"

  The young, broad-shouldered Virgillian pointed at a blinking green light

  on his console. Someone had given the g-ahead to transmit. Luke cleared his

  throat. Before they left Endor, Leia had offered a list of things he might

  say. They just weren't his style.

  Besides, he wouldn't be dealing with a diplomat or a politician. This was

  an embattled commander who could spare only seconds for each decision.

  "Imperial Navy," Luke said, "this is an Alliance battle group. We have the

  white flag out for you. Looks like you're in need. Would you accept our help,

  as between fellow humans?" Sure, there were aliens among the rebels besides

  Chewbacca and Manchisco's Duro navigator. One Gunship was crewed by seventeen

  Mon Calamari. But the human chauvinist Imperials didn't need to know yet.

  The speaker crackled. Imagining some seasoned Imperial veteran

  frantically scrolling through a tutorial for standard Rebel-contacting

  procedures, Luke switched to an Alliance frequency. "All fighters, maintain

  defensive formation. Shields up. We don't know what they're going to do."

  Musical fragments and garbled voices echoed across the Flurry's bridge,

  and then "Alliance battle group, this is Commander Pter Thanas of the

  Imperial Navy. Declare your purpose here." The brassy voice rang with

  authority.

  For three days in hyperspace, Luke had vacillated between pretending

  ignorance and admitting the real situation. Captain Manchisco raised an

  eyebrow as if to ask, "Well?"

  "We intercepted a message Governor Nereus sent to the Imperial Fleet,

  which is, ah, mostly in airdock at the moment. It sounded like serious

  trouble. As I said, we came to help you if possible."

  Luke cut transmission and realized from spasms shooting down his calves

  that he'd stood up. Frustrated, he lowered himself onto the big chair again.

  He'd rested plenty in hyperspace. On his intergroup channel, the Gunships

  checked in. Their pips showed blue on the black status board. Outside his

  viewscreen, they formed up in pairs.

  Near his elbow, Leia's voice spoke softly from over on the Falcon. "Luke,

  be subtle. You're dealing with Imperials. They're going to see us as hostiles

  and chase us away."

  "They're not chasing anybody at the moment," Luke pointed out. "They're

  about to be wiped--"

  "No wonder nobody picked up the standard distress transmissions," said

  the dry, crisp voice of Imperial Commander Thanas. "Alliance battle group, we

  would be grateful for assistance. I am coding a status report twenty cycles

  below this frequency."

  "Well, all right," observed Han.

  Only someone who already considered himself beaten would accept

  marginally identified reinforcements. Luke glanced at Communications Officer

  Delckis, who opened the channel Thanas indicated. Within moments, a small

  percentage of the swirling dots on the status board turned yellow-gold for the

  Imperials. Luke whistled softly. All six ovoids and most of the sandstorm

  still gleamed threat red.

  The BAC started spitting information. Commander Thanas had less firepower

  than the invaders, and 80 percent of it was concentrated in a single Carrack'-

  class cruiser. Not a big ship, with only a fifth of the crew that a Star

  Destroyer carried, but it outgunned the Flurry several times. "You sure you

  want to do this?" muttered Manchisco.

  Luke touched a call button that would send Rebel pilots scrambling up

  ladders. Fueled and pulled out into the bays during the last day in

  hyperspace, the fighters were launch ready.

  "Reading your formation," Luke told his Imperial counterpart. He wasn't

  sure how to proceed. Calming, he reached inside himself for a leading from the

  Force. A hunch, as others called it...

  Thanas said, "Can you--stand by--" A weird warbling whistle drowned out

  the Imperial commander.

  Luke drummed his fingers against the console. When Thanas came back, his

  voice still sounded smooth and controlled. "Sorry. Jamming. If you could throw

  a cone of ships into the gap between the Ssi-ruuk's three central cruisers, it

  could inspire them to retreat. It would buy us time."

  Ssi-ruuk. Luke filed the aliens' name at the back of his mind. Something

  underneath consciousness finally made a suggestion. "Commander Thanas, we're

  going to sweep down from solar north just spinward of those three cruisers.

  "Set course," he murmured aside.

  Captain Manchisco's navigator reached for his nav computer. "Valtis," the

  Duro gargled in Standard around thin, rubbery lips, "establish eight-seven

  norrrth, six spinwarrrd." The Virgillian pilot finger-hopped corrections onto

  his computer. Luke felt the Flurry break dormancy. Deck panels transferred

  engine vibrations to his feet and command chair. The access hatch, which

  they'd left open for ventilation, slid shut.

  Thanas spoke again after another minute. "That's within our sphere of<
br />
  greatest need, Alliance group. Come in... and thanks. Just keep it away from

  the gravity well."

  "What do you think, kid?" Han's voice filtered through the speaker at

  Luke's elbow. "Doesn't look good."

  "I've got to get to Bakura," Leia insisted over the same speaker. "I have

  to convince this Governor Nereus to declare an official truce. Otherwise they

  have no reason to work with us. You can't end-run the entire Imperial Navy."

  "Han," Luke answered, "did you read how we're going to move?"

  "Oh, yeah." His friend sounded amused. "Good luck, hero. I'm afraid our

  only trained diplomat is going to wait this one out."

  "Good idea," said Luke.

  "What?" Luke heard exclamation points follow Leia's question. "What are

  you talking about?"

  "Excuse us." He pictured Han turning aside, trying to reasonably explain

  an unpleasant truth to the more stubborn Skywalker twin. Maybe her brother

  ought to step in.

  "Leia," he said, "look at the board. Bakura is blockaded. All

  communications out must be jammed--we haven't heard a peep except some scatter

  from entertainment bands. You're too valuable to risk in the battle zone."

  "And you're not?" she retorted. "I have to talk with the governor. Our

  only hope is to persuade him that we're coming in as nonaggressors."

  "I agree," answered Luke, "and we could use the Falcon in a sweep, but

  we're not risking you. Be thankful you're on your own gunship."

  Stony silence. Luke called out more orders, maneuvering his carrier group

  into a loose carpet formation for the tricky intersystem jump.

  "All right," Leia grumbled. "The sixth planet isn't far from this vector.

  We'll head in that direction. If it looks safe, we'll land and wait for a

  rendezvous."

  "Planet Six sounds good, Leia." Luke could feel her indignation, and it

  wasn't directed only at him. She and Han must learn to resolve disagreements.

  Develop their own system.

  He shut her sense out of his perception. "Be in touch, Han. Use standard

  Alliance frequencies, but monitor the Imperial ones."

  "Affirmative, Junior."

  Luke watched the light freighter swing out of formation through his

  viewscreen. The blue-white arc of its engines shrank in the black distance.

  According to his status board, his fighter pilots stood by, mounted and ready,

  with Wedge Antilles running squadron checks. He didn't belong up here. Today