by Kathy Tyers
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
