"But you don't know."
Thanas only stared back. This would be a touchy truce, if it held.
"We do need to discuss the current tactical situation," Luke suggested.
"According to my data, between us we've got two cruisers, seven midsized
gunships, and about forty one-man fighters, two thirds currently deployed in
the defensive web, one third down for repairs. Do your figures line up?"
Thanas favored Luke with an amused curl of his lips. "Good data. You also
have a rather irregular freighter."
"That, too." Luke shifted on the repulsor chair. "Have you been able to
get any count on the Ssi-ruuk?"
Thanas nodded curtly. "Here insystem, three cruisers. Two midsize ships
that've hung back, so far, near the orbit of Planet Four--our best guess is
planetary assault ships. About fifteen large fighters or small picket ships,
just outside the defense net. And no one knows how many of those little
fighters--or which cruiser carries them. Maybe they all do."
Simply put, the situation looked bad. "Where do you get your information?
" Luke asked, wondering what Thanas might tell him about in-system
intelligence.
Thanas raised one eyebrow. "Standard sources," he said. "Where do you get
yours?"
"Open eyes."
The exchange was punctuated by more frustrating dead ends, but when Luke
stood up two hours later, he had a better grasp of the tactical situation,
precise data on orbital defense-net vectors, and a few miscellaneous tidbits
stored in his mind and Artoo's memory banks.
"Commander Skywalker," Thanas said softly, "I wonder if you wouldn't
favor me with a demonstration of that lightsaber. I've heard about them."
"I think not." Luke kept his tone polite. "I don't want to alarm your
troopers."
"They won't be alarmed." Thanas touched another key on his desk. The door
slid open. Two white-armored stormtroopers stepped inside. "I'd like to keep
your astromech droid here. You two Take custody."
"I'd prefer to keep Artoo with me." Luke didn't think Thanas meant the
threat seriously, but he unhooked, swept up, and activated the saber with a
single motion. For all his willingness to talk, Thanas thought like an
Imperial. He wanted a demonstration. He'd get it.
The troopers fired milliseconds apart. Luke pivoted into the blasts and
deflected them. Tiny flames extinguished in Thanas's gray paneling.
"Hold your fire." Thanas lifted a hand. "Dismissed."
The troopers marched out.
"I don't understand." Luke stood at ready attention and kept the saber
ignited. "You could have lost two of your men."
Thanas stared at the humming green blade. "I didn't think you would kill
them. I'd have had to take you prisoner, if you did. I wonder if you'd care to
fight your way out through the whole garrison."
Luke reached for his focus of control. "If I had to, I would." He sensed
a trace of amusement in the older man. Perhaps Thanas was hostile more out of
professional habit than out of real belief in the Empire, but Luke didn't
trust him yet. He closed down the saber. "I need to check on my forces' ship
damages, Commander."
Thanas nodded. "You may go. Take your droid with you."
Luke tucked his thumbs into his utility belt. "My shuttle went back to
the Bakur complex. I'd appreciate a lift over to Pad Twelve at the spaceport."
Thanas hesitated for a slow beat, then smiled back. "All right."
If Thanas meant to stop Luke and his party from leaving Bakura, he'd get
plenty of chances.
A noncom drove Luke off in a repulsor craft. All the dull aches had come
back. It was indeed turning out to be a very long day. He made a mental task
list check in with Leia and let her know he'd left the garrison safely,
double-check that the Falcon was undisturbed, make sure the fighters were
being serviced and the pilots were getting their rest...
Abruptly Luke realized he hadn't thought about that striking Bakuran
senator for over an hour. He tried to dismiss her image again, and his memory
of the way her Force aura had energized his own. Forgetting wasn't as easy
without Imperials surrounding him. This wasn't the time or place to let
personal urges distract him.
Yet the first Death Star hadn't been the time or place for romance
either, and his desperate love for Leia had set so much in motion. If only
Gaeriel Captison needed to be rescued....
Shortly after Skywalker's shuttle left the garrison, Pter Thanas stopped
tapping an Alzoc-pearl pocketknife against his desktop. He'd tracked the
illegal freighter to Pad 12 at the civilian spaceport. Relevant information,
but not yet vital.
He unfolded one knife blade and balanced it over his index finger. He
never could have admitted to young Skywalker how long he'd wished to see a
lightsaber in action. When Vader and the Emperor had wiped out the Jedi, he'd
given up hope. Fascinating, the way it'd deflected laser fire. Its combat uses
would be limited, but its very appearance was compelling.
As was the young man who carried it. Now he understood why the reward for
his capture was so high.
Thanas imagined what he could do with so many credits. He'd been
transferred to this dead-end position after refusing to wipe out a village of
recalcitrant Talz slave miners back on Alzoc III.
He hadn't been trying to play hero.... He'd simply increased his miners'
food allotment. Most sentients worked harder if better fed, and the
storehouses had been full. Unbeknownst to him, the furry four-eyed Talz
identified their benefactor. One day in the mines, he'd taken a step too close
to the lip of an open shaft. Three Talz dove to save him. He owed them his
life.
Six standard months later, a colonel with more greed than common sense
reduced the food ration again. The Talz headman delivered a cautiously ^wed
protest. The colonel ordered their village wiped out as an example. Thanas
ignored the order. The colonel sent in stormtroopers himself, then ordered
Thanas on board his own ship, "pending reassignment."
Thanas smiled bitterly. He'd been told to consider himself lucky--if he'd
pulled that stunt in Lord Vader's presence, he'd have been dead of
asphyxiation. Instead, here he sat on Bakura, an isolated, low-paying job with
little hope for rotation out to the Core worlds.
Again he thought about that reward--and early retirement. He caressed the
iridescent pearl handle. He could marry again and live quietly on some
nonaligned world. The reward for Skywalker tempted him, but if anyone on
Bakura claimed those credits, it would be Governor Wilek Nereus.
Thanas frowned, refolded the knife, and dropped it into his pocket. No
early retirement for him. He hadn't even been able to repel alien invaders
without reinforcements... from the Rebel Alliance. He'd never leave Bakura
now.
Leia cleared Luke's message from her screen and keyed over to her next
data file. A photographic memory would've been useful. This much raw data
would take weeks to internalize. From Artoo, she'd already learned that Bakura
had information-level technology, rep
ulsor coil manufacturing and export (due
to plentiful mineral deposits in the mountains north of Salis D'aar), and
namana trees, a tropical cash crop that showed astonishing profit margins. New
information was that descendants of the original Bakur Corporation ship's
captain had always served as titular heads of government. Also new the
senate, not the smallish populace, elected senators to replace those who died
or resigned.
Now, she reflected, it was an approval organ for Imperial Governor Wilek
Nereus. She'd like quietly to interview a few private citizens and find out
how much anti-Imperial sentiment the Rebels could hope to tap.
She yawned mightily, then stretched her arms and tipped her repulsor
chair. Han's feet showed through the doorway of his bedroom--the suite had
four private rooms, two with windows and two with real-time murals. If Han had
fallen asleep on the floor, trying to study Artoo's data, she didn't care.
Looking at that much of him raised her blood pressure. The nerve of him,
implying she wanted to dally with an ex-Alderaanian Imperial. A renegade, a
quisling.
She didn't hear any sign of Chewbacca. Threepio probably stood where
she'd left him, plugged into the main comm center near the doorway, and Luke--
Once Luke had left, she'd calmed down a bit. She shouldn't let the
knowledge that Vader was their father infuriate her so. Even Han hadn't tossed
a single snide comment when she'd swallowed her humiliation back on Endor and
told him about Vader. He hadn't said anything, only held her. With all Darth
Vader had done to him--sending the galaxy's lowest scum to chase him down,
then using him as an experimental animal to test a carbon freeze unit,
scorching and creasing his precious ship with TIE'-FIGHTER laser cannon--
evidently Han wasn't going to hold any of it against Leia or Luke. So long as
she avoided anything and anybody that reminded her of Vader or the Force,
she'd be all right.
Fat chance, on this trip. Get hold of yourself, she ordered.
"Mistress Leia?" called Threepio's voice.
She walked to her bedroom door. "What is it?"
"A message for you. Prime Minister Captison."
"Put it on my bedroom terminal." She hurried back to the tri-D station.
Her door slid shut on a frictionless channel. She'd never seen so many small-
scale repulsors.
Leia sat down. She would have recognized the image even without
Threepio's announcement. Collecting her composure, she greeted him
respectfully. "I hope your senate decided in our favor, Prime Minister."
He smiled with the sad, authoritative dignity she remembered from Bail
Organa. "Nothing was finalized," he said. "I hope you and your party are
comfortable?"
"I'm delighted to be speaking at such length with your people, but we
expect a little trouble convincing the Imperial military that we're here to do
a job and then go home."
"Your Highness." The prime minister's tone reproached her gently. "That's
not why you're here, is it?" Captison raised a hand. "That's all right. Our
people need a distraction. They've had nothing but Ssi-ruuk on their minds for
over a week."
"I understand," Leia murmured. "What can I do for you, Prime Minister?"
"You--and your party--cd join me at my home this evening. Dinner will be
at nineteen hundred."
She longed to put down her head and sleep, but... "That would be
delightful," she said. It could be a wonderful distraction, a real
breakthrough. "On behalf of General Solo and Commander Skywalker, I accept."
What about Chewie? she thought suddenly. He wouldn't fit, not the way these
people felt about aliens. Well, she hoped she could make him understand. He
could get some sleep. "Thank you very much."
"I will send an escort for you shortly after eighteen thirty. Oh," he
added, "I have invited Governor Nereus as well. A chance to open communication
off the official records."
That would keep her awake. Guaranteed. "How thoughtful of you, Prime
Minister. Thank you." Leia switched off. It.was the perfect opportunity. High
time to ask the Imperials what they thought about Emperor Palpatine's
intentions, inviting the Ssi-ruuk in this direction.
She hoped Luke got back from the spaceport in time to clean up.
She hoped Luke got back, period.
CHAPTER 9
By the time Dev had scraped nauseating blobs of mixed food out of the
galleyvac unit, an hour had passed. He must report to Elder Sh'tk'ith--
Bluescale--bbf his midcycle bath. Not that he wanted renewal, but if Bluescale
thought Dev had avoided him, he'd pry deeper. Bluescale was incredibly
sensitive to changes in Dev's scent. Besides, the elder had a talent for
hypnotic control, even though he was as Force blind as the rest of them. Dev
ought to be able to resist him, for simple hypnosis was nothing next to the
power of the Force.
But he couldn't control it well enough, and he had no one to teach him.
Dev had felt the presence of one of his own kind. What if it.were a real
Jedi out there? The Ssi-ruuk would be vitally interested, but Dev didn't want
Bluescale to know yet.
On the other hand, maybe that wouldn't be so bad. They would seek out the
other, and Dev would have a human friend--
No, the Outsider was stronger in the Force--a concept his mother had
taught him long before that fateful invasion day. Dev would fall from his
headed up the broad corridor. Ssi-ruuk passed him going both directions,
stepping quickly with their massive heads bobbing. A few wore paddle beamers,
for occasional P'w'ecks turned on their masters under the stress of battle.
On the other hand--he slowed again--they might try to entech the
Outsider. Humans screamed on the entechment chair. Someone that strong in the
Force might kill Dev with his agony.
No, no. Only the body felt pain.
Yet what if this.were a fully trained Jedi?
Dev dove into a turbolift and hurried to Bluescale's work station on the
battle-droid deck. He wasn't there. Several small, brown P'w'eck workers bent
over antenna-cornered pyramids recovered by tractor beam. This crew was made
up of youngsters, short-tailed with jerky movements. As soon as they finished
repairing these droids, the droids would stand ready for the next group of
prisoners to be enteched.
Dev watched for a minute. Each P'w'eck did its own job without any sign
of satisfaction. This dull-witted servant race only superficially resembled
the glossy, muscular masters. Heavy eyes and sagging skin showed that even the
young P'w'ecks didn't bother to eat well. Battle droids shone by comparison.
He hiked up to the bridge and sent one of the cylindrical ultimate
security droids looking for Bluescale. He waited outside. A conductive net
surrounded the bridge, strong enough to stabilize gravitics and repel energy
surges during battle. Like a reactor, it could be overloaded, and a direct hit
from a large enough ship would overcharge the net and make the bridge a
deathtrap. Admiral Ivpikkis made certain no large hostile
ship got the
Shriwirr in firing range.
The droid couldn't find Bluescale either. Feeling increasingly urgent,
Dev tried Master Firwirrung's entechment hall.
Bluescale stood in the corridor, giving orders to a group of P'w'ecks.
Dev stood back a respectful distance. Once the P'w'ecks scurried away, he
stepped close. "You wished me to report, Elder."
Bluescale opened a hatchway. "Come in."
Once inside, Dev looked around cautiously. This wasn't one of Bluescale's
usual work stations. In one corner, waist - and knee-high railings surrounded
a meter-square sunken area. A gate hung open. Once Bluescale raised it, it
would complete an enclosure. It almost looked like a cage built to hold a
P'w'eck. They were led away for discipline sometimes. He'd never seen it done.
He started to panic. "There?"
"Yes." Bluescale slid aside to a small table. Unable to do anything else,
Dev stepped down into the enclosure.
Bluescale pressed something hard against his shoulder. "Lean on the
railings, if you'd like."
Normally, Bluescale began renewals by having him lie down comfortably on
the deck. At least, this didn't feel like discipline... so far. "What is it
you wish?" Dev whistled uneasily. "What may I do to please you?"
"Talk with me." Bluescale settled his glistening mass alongside Dev. "How
goes your project?"
Suddenly delighted by the elder's attention, Dev let his weight sag on
the upper railing. "It goes very well. My latest effort is a translation of
the announcement we delivered to Bakura, a few weeks--"
"Stop," said Bluescale. He bent his massive head closer to Dev and peered
down with one eye.
Dev smiled back fondly.
"You are human," Bluescale said. "Think for a moment what that means."
Dev pushed up one sleeve and stared at his soft, fuzzy arm. "It means...
inferior."
"Are you certain?"
Bewildered, Dev shut his eyes. From the deepest recesses of emotion, he
released something controlled and repressed and stinking and hateful and--
The huge lizard loomed nearer. Dev howled and struck its forelimb.
"Harder," it whistled. "You can do better than that, weakling."
Gritting his teeth, Dev plunged a fist into its upper arm. "You killed my
world. My parents, my people. Every one of them gone, absorbed, murdered,