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
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