Bluescale blinked and stomped close enough that Dev smelled him. "Legs,
too?"
He pulled his ankles deeper into their bonds. "They move again. But they
hurt. They're too heavy."
"Ah." Firwirrung examined a readout and hissed contentment.
"Neuromuscular control returned in two and seven-twelfths hours, precisely on
schedule. This is excellent."
Dev swallowed hard. "It hurts," he repeated in a cracking voice.
"That should not affect the catchment function. Entech this woman for us,
Dev."
"You're not listening." Dev compressed his lips. "It hurts."
"Hurts?" mocked Bluescale. The alien turned slightly. Abruptly
recognizing the posture, Dev winced and braced himself. A muscular tail
slapped his legs so hard Dev saw stars. "Good," Bluescale sang. "We need you
unwilling, human."
Firwirrung moved toward him, carrying an oddly shaped hypospray. "You're
right," he sang back to Bluescale. "Surely the Jedi will not cooperate. Now
that our war effort depends on fail-safes for controlling Skywalker, we'll try
this... instead of your talents. Then the victory of our people will not
depend on the survival of any one of us."
"It could kill him." The tip of Bluescale's tail twitched threateningly.
"It will either kill him or force him to obey. How much better to
maintain professional objectivity on this less valuable subject."
Less valuable? Master, what are you saying? Panic-stricken, Dev tried to
writhe away from the hypospray. It burned his thigh for a moment. He waited.
Then--
"Entech that woman," ordered Firwirrung.
Dev blinked. What else were humans good for? He stretched out for her. As
her essence plunged through him, there was more pain. He heard a scream. A
male scream that hurt his throat. Then he opened his eyes again, awaiting
orders.
Bluescale pulled the Fft knife from his shoulder pouch. Firwirrung
honked. "Not necessary," he said. "I'd like to leave him there for several
days, to test the other life-support functions--"
"But you heard the admiral," Bluescale sang wryly through his nose. "They
want to begin on Skywalker immediately."
Several days? Dev trembled and clenched his hands. The left one felt
seared. He'd probably chipped bones and sliced tendons.
Firwirrung's scent tongues flicked. "How they stink when they're afraid."
"They almost behave intelligently at times. Wouldn't it be odd if they
had souls, when our P'w'ecks do not?"
"Not a chance." Firwirrung's callousness appalled Dev. "Finish it."
"Look at me," ordered Bluescale. The eye was black and lovely and
rounded, and it swirled....
His hand ached unbelievably. As his foggy brain recognized the sensations
of a fresh but partial renewal, Master Firwirrung released the last wrist
restraint on the shining new bed. Blinking, Dev tried to stand upright. He
tottered between two P'w'ecks, fighting a strange inexplicable weakness.
Something smelled bad. Human. He sniffed himself. Phew.
"Did it go well?" he asked Firwirrung. Talking hurt his throat. "Why...
renewal, why now?"
"Ah, Dev." Firwirrung stroked his arm with an open foreclaw. "It would
make you too sad, to remember coming so close to entechment and being denied
the joy."
Their kindness and forethought overwhelmed him. "But it worked? Did I
give him his battle droid?"
Firwirrung wrapped a foreclaw around Dev's head and pulled it against his
scaly chest. "It worked. Now we lack only one thing."
"Skywalker," Dev whispered.
Firwirrung shoved him away affectionately. "Please go bathe, human."
CHAPTER 13
Governor Wilek Nereus marched into the operations room of his suite,
firmly controlling a sense of anticipation. Ceiling, bare walls, flooring and
furniture were black in the Ops Room for the easier viewing of projections. At
the short black conference table, standing across from Commander Thanas and
beside the fraudulent "General" Solo, he found Commander Luke Skywalker, Jedi
Knight, self-assured in his invulnerability.
"Is everything going well, gentlemen?" Nereus took the repulsor chair at
the table's head and waved his bodyguards back. The others sat down.
Commander Thanas looked appropriately serious for a man whose career
rested on Nereus's next biannual report. He was probably eager to redeem
himself from the Alzoc blot on his record. "All fighters are repaired," said
Thanas. "The crews stand ready for our signal."
That attack would not come, if the Ssi-ruuk kept their ^w--not that
Nereus expected them to. If they took Skywalker and attacked anyway, he and
Commander Thanas had brought onto line a new weapon that should take a heavy
toll on battle droids. "What about that new ship-mounted, ah..."
"DEMP gun," Thanas prompted him. Obviously caught unaware, Skywalker
glanced over at Thanas and then down to his smuggler friend. "It disables
droids at some distance using electromagnetic pulse," Thanas explained. "We've
installed two prototype super-DEMP'S on system patrol craft, but they're
untested."
Solo immediately requested DEMP guns for Rebel gunboats. Nereus stroked
his chin and let Commander Thanas explain that no others existed. While they
sparred, he slid a miniature medisensor out of his belt pocket, laid it on the
glossy tabletop, and aimed it at Skywalker.
Concern, not remorse, made him frown. All readings indicated near-perfect
health. The man had allegedly ingested a five-year-old egg pod without knowing
it. Nereus needed to make certain the eggs had been viable, and quickly--but a
complete medical scan would rouse Skywalker's suspicion, and the Jedi's
ignorance was a critical factor to success.
A holographic projector whirred up to table level, creating an image
midtable between Skywalker and Thanas. Surrounding a pale blue sphere, silver
and gold ship dots mapped out Bakura's defensive web. Farther out, the red
Ssi-ruuk glimmered.
"You people use red for threat, too," Solo observed.
"Probably standard wherever people bleed red," Skywalker said softly.
Oh yes, they bleed red. Nereus smiled beneficence and leaned back,
quietly touching keys on his recessed board and contacting his medical
department.
Fifteen minutes later, the others were still talking strategy when his
medtechs patched the complex medstation's powerful main sensors to his
handheld model, which still lay on the table. He used directional keys on his
touchboard to focus a smaller zone between Skywalker's belt and collarbone....
Two minuscule fourteen-hour larvae squirmed in the left bronchial
passage. Primitive circulatory systems pumped for dear life.
There'd been three eggs in the pod, but one Olabrian Trichoid larva was
deadly. Any good alien parasitologist knew that.
Solo, who'd pitched insults at both sides for two hours, finally objected
with a straight face. "Commander Thanas, there's one thing about this I don't
like. Look." He waved at the projected complete maneuver. "Go back three
steps," he ordered the programming circuit. Ship dots swirled backw
ard.
"There," he said. "Stop. Do you see? Y've--"
Nereus cleared his private screen. Solo paused. Skywalker nudged him to
continue.
"You've got Alliance fighting pairs at every point of maximum risk," Solo
insisted. "Your projection isn't showing losses by subgroup. If you fed those
in, there'd be a lot less silver dots in the "-pletion"' frame. I don't like
that."
Perhaps the smuggler had some grasp of tactics after all, Nereus
observed. Commander Thanas, who'd been fidgeting with his souvenir pocket
knife, dropped it into a breast pocket and said, "Commander Skywalker
suggested I consider your forces my own. If those were my fighters, that's how
I'd deploy them to minimize overall losses." He keyed his console. "Show phase
four, with projected losses." The pattern changed. "Now I'll program a switch
of squadrons to replace half of those key positions with regulars. Fair
enough, General?"
Solo spread his hands.
"There." Commander Thanas touched a key. "Phase four, projected losses,
with squadrons switched."
A significant number of specks extinguished, both Imperial and Alliance.
Skywalker exhaled easily. The cough would probably come in four to six
hours, depending on his general physical condition--ab two hours before
massive thoracic hemorrhaging. "Convinced, General Solo?"
"I suppose."
Skywalker folded his hands on the table. "I think we can confirm it.
Alliance forces will spearhead each thrust. We'll break the blockade and cut
off that cruiser for you to englobe. Destroy one cruiser and we might change
their minds. Destroy two..." He trailed off. "Well, we'll see what they
actually throw at us.
"One more question." Skywalker addressed Commander Thanas. "If the Ssi-
ruuk go on waiting for us, how long do we keep them waiting?"
Nereus cleared his throat for attention. "Tomorrow evening," he said. By
then, young Jedi, you'll be dead.
"I'd like to move sooner," Thanas said carefully. "The element of
surprise will work in favor of the attacking--"
"Tomorrow evening," Nereus repeated. Commander Thanas would have to
redeem himself according to Nereus's plan, not his own wishes. The whole plan.
.. or become a slave miner himself. Nereus would make that clear when they met
privately tonight.
"Very well," said Thanas. "Commander Skywalker. General Solo. Until
tomorrow."
Nereus shook hands all around, keeping his gloves on. Larvae weren't
transmissible at this stage, but the very idea nauseated him. Olabrian
Trichoids used almost all higher animals as breeding hosts. He'd tried
infecting the Ssi-ruuk already, but apparently they destroyed enteched
prisoners' bodies immediately. Skywalker, he guessed, might be kept around
long enough to nurse a brood of the large, voracious adults--which emerged
from a brief pupation already fertile. If the Ssi-ruuk didn't take Skywalker
offplanet, of course, he'd have to be destroyed tonight. He might even
volunteer, to head off a planetwide infestation. Young idealism sacrificed
itself so nobly.
But Skywalker would almost certainly pass through Pad 12 at least once in
the next eight hours.
Luke felt Governor Nereus's stare follow as he and Han strode out of the
Ops Room. Nereus expected never to see him again.
Once they passed the first corner, Han muttered, "You have got to be
kidding, trusting those people."
Luke answered out one side of his mouth. "Reconsider Commander Thanas."
"Oh?" Han raised one eyebrow, then turned his head aside to stare down a
corridor.
Good. They'd both better stay jumpy. "Straightforward," said Luke. "Wants
to do a good job and is glad for help. He's not Nereus's man."
"Empire's man."
"Mm."
"Do you like Thanas because he complimented you in there?" Han suggested.
Luke smiled. "No. But that was refreshing."
"Compliments from an Imperial. Right."
They slowed at the edge of a wide lobby. Luke reached out through the
Force. No one waited there. Han kept one hand near his blaster as they hurried
across.
Once they left the Imperial Offices corridor, Han frowned. "Is it my
imagination," he asked, "or are you being just a little more careful than
yesterday?"
"I had ^w from an inside source that Governor Nereus plans to hand me to
the Ssi-ruuk. Did you notice that he got a message or something during that
session?"
"Yeah," said Han. "Finally going to be careful, uh?"
"I've been careful." Luke's exasperation didn't distract him from
watching shadows. "And is it my imagination," he came back, "or are you just a
little more pleased with yourself?"
Han paused in midstep. "What is this? I suppose you're going to ask my
intentions toward your sister."
Luke took a careful look around, then dropped his guard and smiled at
Han. "I know what your intentions are, friend. She needs you. Just don't let
her down."
Han's crooked smile shone like an asteroid beacon. "Not on your life."
Luke clapped his shoulder. All they'd been through had already bonded
them like brothers. Now, this--
Following footsteps snapped him back to attention. He slipped behind a
pillar and unhooked his saber. Han slid in beside him.
Three sets of footfalls approached. Luke stayed in his cover. Han raised
as the trio passed Nereus, followed by a pair of stormtrooper bodyguards.
He'd felt so controlled, back in his office. But something in his walk,
and the faintest hint in his Force-sense, nudged Luke to an unexpected
conclusion. "He's starting to panic," Luke observed in a whisper.
"Panic?" Han wrinkled his forehead. "Him?"
"It's just setting in." The trio's backs receded up the corridor. "We'd
better watch him."
"That's nothing new." Han's hands relaxed at his sides.
Once they reached the apartment, Han disappeared into his room. Luke
hastily encoded a message to Wedge Antilles, out in the orbital net. Attack
coordinated for tomorrow night. Work with Governor Nereus's forces, follow
Thanas's orders, but keep your deflector shields up. Smiling grimly, he sent
it. Han and Leia were headed for the Falcon as soon as he located her. She'd
gone off alone after breakfast, but with the attack this imminent, it was time
to stand ready. Luke would catch the next shuttle to orbit and reboard the
Flurry. He would enjoy proving Manchisco's premonition wrong.
His stomach grumbled a more immediate message. He ought to catch lunch,
but not here. The food at Pad 12's cantina should be nontoxic. "You ready,
Han?" Luke called.
Han stepped back out. "Leia's not answering."
"Maybe she and Captison went someplace where the Imperials couldn 't
listen to them."
"Possible," said Han. "Let's get you to the troops. Then I'm going
looking for her."
Prime Minister Captison had suggested a drive, and to Leia's surprise,
Senior Senator Orn Belden climbed aboard with a bulging breast pocket. S
he
assumed it contained his voice amplifier. This time, the Bakurans wouldn't be
distracted by droids or Chewbacca.
Captison's liveried chauffeur steered a closed-cockpit government speeder
off the roof port. Belden laid a finger across his lips.
Leia nodded understanding Not yet. "It's a lovely city," she observed
lightly. "In many ways, Bakura reminds me of Alderaan." She glanced up at a
layer of broken clouds. "Some of its wetter regions, anyway. Have you explored
this quartz outcrop for metals?"
Sitting beside her in the center seat, Captison folded his hands with a
knowing smile. "Thoroughly. Why do you think they planted the city here?"
"Ah," said Leia.
Captison leaned back, looking relaxed. "After a few boom years, the veins
began to narrow and the Bakur Corporation factioned. My father's element
wanted to prospect other sites. Another faction lobbied to develop Bakura's
other resources. Still another--mostly second-generation--wanted to bring in
settlers at exorbitant fares, or establish a set of luxury resorts."
"Once the galaxy learns about a newly opened habitable world, it often
becomes... stylish."
"Which brings in a certain undesirable element."
Perhaps he meant rebels and smugglers, or gamblers and trinket sellers.
"It can."
Captison laughed. "In many ways, Leia, you remind me of my niece."
"I wish my life had been as simple as Gaeriel's."
"She has been a good child," Belden wheezed from the back seat beside
Captison's bodyguard. "It remains to be seen if she'll be a good senator."
Prime Minister Captison tapped a window absently. "She has abruptly
reached the disillusionment phase of new adulthood."
"I understand," said Leia. "I reached it rather young." Captison's
chauffeur kept the speeder between two others in a crosstown lane. Salis
D'aar, like many sizable cities, funneled air traffic along established
routes.
"Oh," interjected Senator Belden, "please thank Commander Skywalker for
trying to help Eppie. He'll know what I mean." Then he started talking about
mountain soil, namana fruit harvest, and juice extraction.
Leia waited, wondering when the men would feel safe enough to really
talk. This could be her only chance to gain headway for the Alliance.
Five minutes later, Captison's chauffeur landed the speeder at a small
dome surrounded by gaudy repulsor signs that hovered several meters overhead.