by Kathy Tyers
Luke shook the officer’s hand, but Han kept his right hand low. He glanced over his shoulder at Chewie. The Wookiee stared back, watching (and covering) faithfully. Leia could take a few steadiness lessons from Chewie.
“We must be going,” said Leia. “Thank you for introducing yourself.”
The Imperial captain reached for her hand. Han pressed his palm to his blaster, barely keeping his trigger finger disengaged. She met the handshake and let him smooch her fingers. Immediately Luke glanced in Han’s direction and flicked his hand. He must’ve done something with that Force of his: Han’s jealousy cooled a hundred degrees, but it didn’t go out. Leia led them up the echoing hall toward the roof port.
Following with Luke and Chewie, Han glared at Luke. “Don’t do that to me,” he said. “Don’t ever do that.” He’d been jealous before, of Luke. That’d been unnecessary. This probably was too.
“I’m sorry,” Luke murmured, eyes ahead. “I had to. We couldn’t afford what you wanted to do.”
“I’ll control myself, thanks.”
Leia turned around and walked backward. “What’s wrong, Luke?”
Not Han. Luke.
“Nothing.” Luke shook his head. “I want to speak with … a couple of those senators. And Commander Thanas promised to make contact today. Let’s go dig into our new data files.”
CHAPTER
8
Their conductor/guide drove them by tram back across the Bakur complex, then took them to a second-floor apartment. The instant the suite’s door slid shut behind Chewie, Han spun around. Leia guessed what he was going to say from the sour look on his face. It would’ve curdled Bantha milk.
“You told them too much.” He waved one arm. “Especially about the Endor troops. Those Imperials don’t need to know our people are exhausted. They’ll gather up every fightership for parsecs and wipe out the Fleet.”
“No, they won’t. They can’t contact anybody else. They’ve tried.” Relieved, she laid her palms on his chest and looked up into his glittering dark eyes. She’d expected a lecture about that renegade Alderaanian. For one instant, the dead world had lived—bitter memories with the sweet. Imperial policies had never been approved on Alderaan. It was a rare and suspect individual who volunteered for Imperial service.
“Well, you did,” he muttered. “Don’t tell them so much.”
“They’ll assume—” Leia began.
“Hold it,” said Luke. “Did anyone else hear the aliens’ human say they came ‘at the behest of your own Emperor’? These Bakurans are ignoring it.”
“I caught it.” Leia stepped away from Han. “I’m trying to figure out how to use it.”
“Good.”
“But did you—” Leia began again.
“Save it,” said Han. He circled the apartment’s main room, peering into all of its floor and ceiling corners. Paneled in pale yellow natural wood, the main room had a single long window looking out on one of the greenwells. A hexagonal lounge pit filled the room’s center, cushioned in green with small blue pillows floating several centimeters above it. Han overturned every pillow, then started rapping walls. “I don’t mind telling you I’d rather sleep on the Falcon.”
“I wouldn’t,” sighed Leia.
Threepio stood by the door, one hand covering his restraining bolt as if he were self-conscious. Sometimes his pseudoemotive programming amused her. “Sir, droids require no rest. May I suggest that you humans sleep for a little while? Artoo will stand guard—”
From beneath a hanging lamp, Artoo cut him off with a derisive hoot.
Han paused in front of a long, curving wall that displayed a real-time forest mural. Its branches waved in an intangible wind. He peered at the detail work.
Leia shook her head. Of course the Imperials were bugging them. They probably had voice sensors trained on this suite from across the complex.
She said, “Obviously Nereus is the real power on Bakura. But he’s trying to keep the Bakurans quiet by letting them play government games.”
Han turned around and leaned on the mural. “You bet he is. And he’s as bugged as a closet full of rat roaches about having armed Rebel ships in his system.”
“But the people aren’t,” Leia insisted.
“No,” rejoined Luke. “The people just want to survive. So does Nereus,” he added drily.
“So once he’s safe,” said Han, “he turns on us and wipes us out—if we don’t pay attention.”
“We will.” Luke glanced at the comm center. “We have a message,” he added, sounding surprised. He walked over and touched a control.
Han peered past Luke’s shoulder. Leia wedged between them. An Imperial officer’s head and shoulders appeared on the tri-D screen: narrow face, thin curly hair. “Commander Skywalker, we need to talk, as agreed. How soon can you join me at my office?” The screen darkened.
“Commander Thanas,” murmured Luke.
“Where’s his office?” Han asked.
“Probably here at the complex. Let me find out.”
Leia backed out of pickup range. “Come on, Han.” She didn’t want even a glimpse at another Imperial for a few minutes. This place was getting to her. Every time she turned around, she half expected to spot a swirling black cape. Vader was dead! Defeated! She mustn’t let black memories distract her from her life work.
Luke told the recessed wall unit, “I believe Commander Thanas left a message—”
Silence. Then, “Yes, that would be fine. I’ll be there in about an hour.” He strolled back toward the lounge pit.
“Well?” asked Leia.
Luke clasped his hands behind his back. “We have Ssi-ruuvi ships in our backyard again. Thanas says it looks like a blockade, just out of the defense net’s easy-kill zone. Approximately the orbital distance of Bakura’s second moon. I, uh, also have an invitation to the Imperial garrison.”
“Alone?” Leia exclaimed.
Luke nodded.
“Don’t do it,” said Han. “Make him meet you someplace neutral.”
Luke shrugged. “Bakura isn’t neutral. He’s probably got better facilities up there for discussing tactics than we could find in the Bakur complex.”
“Then take Chewie with you. This Thanas could arrest you just for being a Jedi. Never mind frying the Emperor.”
“But I didn’t—”
“They still don’t believe the Emperor’s dead,” Leia interrupted. “But take Chewie anyway. Even disarmed, he’s formidable.”
Han fingered his blaster scope. “How fast could you call in some backup?”
“I’ve got a comlink. I could get an X-wing squadron off the Flurry in orbit in … oh, an hour.”
“That could be too late,” Leia insisted. The Wookiee roared agreement at both of them.
“I think I should stay here,” Threepio suggested helpfully.
“Han—Leia—Chewie—I can take care of myself.” Luke flopped onto a corner lounge, scattering small blue cushions. “The more we act as if we trust them, the more they’ll go along with us. Leia made a lot of progress with the senate just now.”
“Not enough.” Leia pursed her lips. “An honest exchange is our only hope for a lasting treaty, one that could bring about the defection of many disillusioned Imperials.”
“Go ahead.” Han swept out one arm. “Tell me you feel good about working with these people, both of you. But look me in the eye when you say it.”
“Well …” Leia glanced down at Luke for support. He raised one eyebrow. “No,” she admitted.
“Mm, no,” Luke answered. “I don’t feel good. Alert.”
“Right,” said Leia. “And feeling uneasy can’t interfere with our negotiations. We must make a start somewhere. We make it at Bakura.”
Luke cleared his throat. “I’d rather take Artoo anyway.”
From a corner where he stood, ignored, Artoo bee-dooped a query.
“For information sharing.”
“Oh,” Leia said. If Luke had come up with a plan, t
here’d be no changing his mind. “Tell me about the senators. What did you feel from them?” She sat down beside Luke and folded her legs up onto the lounge. Its repulsor field felt like unseen liquid holding them off the surface.
“They were hostile,” said Luke. “ ‘Who are you, and what are you doing here, and what business is it of yours?’—at first. But that old fellow Belden was glad to see us. And there were others. Others …” He glanced toward Han, who had walked to the corner between windows. “Leia’s story opened them up. It made the first real change in their attitudes.”
“I’m so glad,” called Threepio from his protocol post by the door. “I would prefer to return to our own people as soon as possible.” Artoo burbled something Leia guessed was agreement.
“There, you see?” Leia stared at Han, willing him to turn around and give her some sign that he’d approved of her presentation. An invisible wall had dropped between them the moment that Alderaanian singled her out. “It has to be hard,” she conceded, “after years of operating covertly, to be this open.”
He finally swung around, thumbs hooked in his belt. “It’s like showing your sabacc hand too early in the game. The cards can change faces on you. I don’t like it. I don’t like these people. I especially don’t like Nereus.”
Leia nodded firmly. “He’s a perfectly normal Imperial bureaucrat. But Luke, what else did you sense? Their reaction to you …”
He frowned. “About what you’d expect, since they hadn’t been warned. Why?”
She searched her feelings for the right words.
Luke found them first. “You’ve got Vader on your mind again, haven’t you?”
Stung, she pointed a finger at him. “I want nothing to do with anything that came from Vader.”
“I came from Vader, Leia—”
She clenched both fists at her sides. “Then leave me alone.”
He shut his mouth without finishing the sentence she’d dreaded: And so did you. He could’ve said it, but he never chose to wound her with words. Already she regretted her outburst. It wasn’t like her to lose her temper so quickly.
“Hey,” cried Han. “Lighten up, Princess. He’s only trying to help.”
“What do you expect from me?” She jumped up and paced past him. “To take it calmly? To announce it to Mon Mothma?”
“Not again,” muttered Han.
Leia planted her fists on her hips. Either she loved that man, or she was going to murder him. “Again?” murmured Luke.
“Look,” said Han. “Nobody’s going to tell your secret. Not even Luke. Right, Luke?”
“We agreed.” Luke shrugged. “For a while, at least, no one but us finds out that you’re related to anyone.” He stretched out a hand.
Leia clasped it. Unexpectedly, Han pushed in and closed his hand around both of theirs.
There was a roar behind her. A huge hairy paw landed on her shoulder as Chewie continued to whuffle and shout. “What’d he say?” she asked Han. Chewie’s other paw landed on Han’s head.
“That we’re his Honor Family.” Han tried to duck. Black-tipped forearm fur trailed into his face. “That’s the basic unit of Wookiee society. It’s the best pledge of loyalty you’ll get, Leia.”
No nicknames this time, no teasing, just Leia.
That was the best pledge of loyalty she’d get from Han. “All right,” she said quietly. “We have work to do. Let’s use every moment until Luke has to leave or they call us back for another session.”
Chewbacca growled. Luke dropped her hand and walked toward the comm center.
“Right.” Han disentangled himself from his copilot. “We’ve also got to check on repairs. Our group has set up a temporary pit over at the spaceport. Pad Twelve. That’s Chewie’s.”
“Ah.” Luke was already punching keys. “There, I found our new data files. Artoo, run a check. See what you didn’t already get from the drone ship.”
Artoo whistled cheerily.
“Keep your eyes open, kid,” said Han.
“And be careful!” Threepio exclaimed.
An Alliance shuttle picked Luke up at the Bakur complex’s roof port. With Artoo loaded in its rear compartment, Luke watched the city sweep past, perched in its concentric circles on that incredible white rock vein.
He feared that his own nervous state had set Leia off, but he hadn’t dared tell her or Han anything yet. He alone knew how desperately the enteched humans suffered, and therefore the danger they all faced if Bakura fell. And if that happened, Bakura’s resources (and population) would help the aliens take another world, where they’d charge up more battle droids to take another, and another, in a chain reaction that could spread clear to the Core worlds.
Perhaps they intended to wipe out all humanity—or maintain prison worlds as breeding populations. It wouldn’t surprise him if they had other kinds of droids that ran on human energy as well. He, Thanas, and even Nereus couldn’t even be sure they faced the entire Ssi-ruuvi fleet.
In the light of this crisis, he’d had no business being distracted by Senator Gaeriel Captison.
Yet those sensations he’d felt, as her presence responded to his probe, made him tingle in memory. The sensations, that is, before her sudden reversal. He’d never felt so strong and sudden a change from attraction to disgust. Now he had to speak with her. If she opposed Jedi so vehemently, she could ruin Leia’s chances for treaty talks. He’d rather have her honest opposition than be ignored. At first, anyway.
Sooner than Luke felt ready, his shuttle landed at the edge of the dark, artificial surface they’d picked out as the garrison. The nervous Alliance pilot helped Luke unload Artoo and then sped away north toward the spaceport. Luke stared up at the garrison’s perimeter. Above and behind a fence that crackled with high voltage, stormtroopers paced catwalks between enormous observation towers. A shimmering, sparking force field blocked the opening between gatehouse towers. Patrol droids converged on him from three directions.
This was the Empire, all right. Luke strode boldly toward the gate. “Come on, Artoo.”
A pair of black-helmeted naval troopers stepped out from behind one gatehouse. The force field snapped off. “Commander Skywalker?” asked one trooper, hand on his blaster.
I am peace. Luke pressed his palms together in front of his chest. “I’m here to speak with Commander Thanas.”
“And the droid?”
“Information repository.”
The trooper laughed shortly. “Espionage.”
“I’ll probably give Commander Thanas more information than I take away.”
“Wait here.” The trooper vanished into his gatehouse.
Luke stared through the fence. An AT-ST scout walker plodded past, looking like a huge gray metal head on legs. The main garrison loomed across a wide open area. “Standard” it might be, but from up close it looked suitably huge. Luke guessed it at eight stories tall. Turbolaser turrets gleamed on each upper level like guardians of a giant’s castle. From this angle, he spotted two vast launch chutes aimed at the sky. He could only guess how many TIE fighters might be racked inside. He wouldn’t’ve dared to go near this place with a squadron of X-wings. Alone, he was safer. He hoped.
The trooper reemerged with a restraining-bolt Owner and a repulsor disk with twin side struts. “The droid will come in on the disk,” he said, “shut down. You may carry your personal Owner, but unauthorized reactivation will be construed as hostile.”
Artoo beeped nervously.
“It’s all right,” Luke said. “Don’t worry.” He let the trooper deactivate Artoo’s main power converter. Once they strapped the silenced droid to the repulsor disk, Luke checked the clasps to make sure his metallic friend wouldn’t fall off. He touched his Owner, which dangled beside his lightsaber. It too reminded him of his dream back at Endor.
He’d never liked restraining bolts anyway. Governor Nereus’s personnel probably had Owners, too, that would let them command Artoo and Threepio despite the droids’ prior programming.
The shuttle passed through huge blast doors between a pair of monstrous guard towers, and into a vehicle bay permeated with the familiar military odors of fuels and machinery.
At a speeder bike deck swarming with maintenance techs, the troopers parked their skiff. Luke felt curiosity prickle at him from all sides. Sorry, I’m not a prisoner. Not yet. As he disentangled Artoo, the curious became hostile. He lifted a finger and spun a line of the Force. Something toppled from one side of the speeder bike deck.
Techs dashed toward the noise. Ignored, Luke passed through, following the trooper who steered Artoo’s repulsor disk. They passed down a narrow corridor with bare walls that sloped toward a narrower ceiling, then into a highspeed turbolift. Luke’s stomach dropped as the turbolift rose.
He stepped off on another level at the end of a long straight hallway. Almost everything was gray—walls, floor, ceiling, furniture, faces—so he noticed the contrasts quickly. An officer in black hustled across from one door to another. Stormtroopers stood at every doorway, white-armored guardians. Luke strode past them, eyes forward but Jedi senses on 360-degree alert and one hand near his lightsaber.
In a circular reception area, Luke spotted a man approaching up the far hallway. His erect posture and measured stride gave him away. Narrow face and thin, curly hair confirmed Luke’s guess. Luke walked to meet him. “Commander Thanas.”
“Commander Skywalker.” Thanas peered down an aquiline nose. “This way, please.” He turned on one heel and sauntered back the way he had come. Tall and pike thin, he exuded an unthreatened self-assurance that warned Luke Imperial eyes surrounded them—as if he’d needed warning. Counting weapons visible in the corridor, Luke steered the repulsor disk after Thanas.
At the far end of the hallway, Thanas stepped into an office. Luke followed. Simply furnished except for a curious flooring like deep tangled moss, it looked like a place where business, not pleasure, was conducted. Even the clean-lined gray walls were bare of mementos, as if Thanas had no past. His plain rectangular desk had only one inset key panel that Luke could see.
