Star Wars: The Truce at Bakura

by Kathy Tyers

  Leia—who’d barely acknowledged Governor Nereus—made a deep, deliberate curtsey to the older man. Luke scanned him. The prime minister’s charisma made a glimmer in the Force only a shade dimmer than Mon Mothma’s. Luke glanced back up at Nereus, wondering why the governor hadn’t eradicated him. Captison must’ve been very careful. Or did he have Imperial connections?

  “Please don’t apologize,” said Leia. “This is a desperate hour.”

  Another inner-table man stood up. “Blaine Harris, defense minister. You have no idea how desperate. All of our outposts on the other planets in the system have been destroyed. Our salvage crews that survived to report back found no bodies and no survivors.” Harris’s fear shot an answering shiver down Luke’s back. Hastily he swept his focus leftward along that table, feeling echoes of fear, hope, and hostility. When he reached its end, he worked toward the right along the outer, upper table.

  A sharp-chinned young woman sat third from the left. He paused, startled by the way she resonated the Force back to him. Like a deep, slow thrum, her presence echoed his probe with a rich overlay. It wasn’t Force strength of her own—at least, he didn’t think so—but a unique energizing effect on his awareness. He’d never experienced it before. Hurriedly, he slammed off all perception but his five senses. He mustn’t let her distract him.

  Nereus’s strident voice carried distinctly across the chamber; he’d placed his throne at an acoustic focus point. “Princess Leia, do you understand what you are up against?”

  Leia laid a hand on an inner tabletop. “No,” she admitted. “We came to answer a distress call, to show that the Alliance has no grudges against Imperial-ruled peoples, only the Empire itself.”

  Nereus curled his lips. “I thought not. Ellsworth,” he ordered into the air, “run the Sibwarra recording. Your Highness, come up here and stand with me. Bring your escorts.”

  Mounting the carpeted stairs behind Leia, Luke glanced left again. The young woman stared back, resting her chin on one open hand. Light brown hair swept around her face, framing pale flower-petal skin and an intent expression. Although she leaned forward, her slender shoulders set proudly straight. He didn’t dare touch her with the Force again—not yet—but her very presence electrified him. Visually striking. Not blindingly beautiful, but striking. Control! he reminded himself sharply. You’re here to help Leia!

  Servomotors whirred behind him. Ahead, Leia drew even with Governor Nereus’s chair, then she pivoted to look back. Luke stopped on the step below her and took the same position. Threepio gleamed on the other side of the room. Hovering over the place where they’d stood, a holographic projection appeared. It was a young human male with muddy-cream colored skin, short black hair, and a sweet face with prominent cheekbones. He wore a white robe with blue and green side stripes.

  “Humans of Bakura, rejoice!” said the … boy? man? “I am Dev Sibwarra of G’rho. I bring you warm greetings of the Ssi-ruuvi Imperium, a culture of many worlds that stretches its hand out to you. Our flagship is the mighty Shriwirr, a Ssi-ruuvi word that means ‘ripe with eggs.’ We are approaching your galaxy at the behest of your own Emperor.”

  Luke glanced across at the young senator. When the invader’s image had appeared, she’d withdrawn, clenching her hands on the tabletop and pushing straight-armed back into her chair. Cautiously he brushed her with the Force again. Fear and revulsion streamed out of her, but beneath those dark emotions hid a sensation as deep as a shifting pool full of jewel-toned colors. Bemused, he shook his head. That didn’t make any sense. But that was how it felt.

  He’d perceived all this in an instant. The holo image spoke on, “Bakurans, be glad! The joy that we bring goes beyond mere sensory happiness. Yours is the privilege of assisting the Ssi-ruuk to liberate”—the boy’s grasping gesture looked more like taking than liberating—“the other worlds of the galaxy. You are the first, the spearhead! What an honor!

  “As humans, you have inestimable value to my masters. From them, you will receive lives without pain, without need, without fear.”

  “Watch this,” Nereus muttered.

  The recording shifted. Several dull brown, saurian aliens clustered around a metallic pyramid that Luke recognized instantly. Antennae and laser cannon bristled at its four corners, swiveling thrusters filled its four faces, and scanner/sensor clusters surrounded each thruster. It lay on some kind of control console.

  Full recognition blasted through Luke’s mind. He recognized the creatures, too … from his disturbing dream back at Endor.

  The boy’s voice kept speaking. “Here you see the most beautiful fighting spacecraft in the galaxy. Even if you never dared to dream of flying the stars, we have one of these fighters for each of you. Your life energies will leap into one of these battle droids. You will soar between planets—”

  Life energies. Luke recalled the human presences he’d touched, despairing and anguished. He leaned forward.

  The robed boy reappeared. “To allay your fears, let me show you a bit of the entechment procedure. Then when the time comes, you may greet your destiny with joy.” A smaller image appeared beside him. A man sat on a chair, anchored to it with clear binders, head lolling. Luke squinted. Were those tubes stuck into his throat? A smaller holographic image-within-an-image of the robed boy lowered a glowing white metal arc around the man. The small image froze.

  “It is joy,” said the larger image. “It is peace. It is freedom. It is our gift to you.” He stretched out a pale palm.

  Those had been humans they’d been fighting. Luke clenched his hands. The Ssi-ruuk weren’t simple slavers, but robbers of souls.…

  Senator Gaeriel Captison shuddered and pulled her warm blue shawl up on her shoulders. “Who does he think he’s fooling?” she whispered.

  “They got him young,” answered the senator on her right. “Look at him. He acts just like a Flutie. He must even think like one.”

  Gaeri stopped watching. She’d seen this recording ten times, starting the afternoon it abruptly overrode all tri-D screens, vid monitors, and entertainment channels on the planet. The senate had studied and dissected it for nuances of meaning … of hope. The only possible conclusion had been to drive away these aliens or face a terrible fate.

  So were the Rebels here to help, as they claimed? If they’d come hoping to steal repulsorlift coils, they’d fallen into the Ssi-ruuvi trap along with Bakura. They would have to help Bakura, now, simply to escape.

  Gaeri eyed the delegates. Senator Princess Leia Organa, her own age, was known throughout the Empire as one of the Rebellion’s chief perpetrators. She might be a deluded soul fighting for a lost cause, like Eppie Belden when she’d had her youth and her mind, but she had risen to leadership. Gaeri hoped to compare notes.

  Princess Leia’s dark-haired escort was no idealist, though. He watched everything and everyone, especially their escape route. According to the data files Governor Nereus had hastily sent Uncle Yeorg, this one—Solo—was a smuggler with a questionable past, a criminal record, and several blood prices.

  But the fair-haired one hadn’t been in any of those files. He had a deep calm about him that you could fall into. As the image of Dev Sibwarra warbled on about the joys of entechment, Escort number two leaned forward for a better view, although his upright posture did not appear to change.

  Several trilling chirps drew Gaeri’s attention back to the hologram. Here it came: the glimpse of the enemy. A massive upright lizard with a black V on its face shuffled into the field and stared with a calculating black eye. “My master, Firwirrung, has always treated me with the utmost of kindness, my friends.”

  The senator on Gaeri’s right muttered, “Bloody-handed Fluties.”

  “Good-bye for now. I look forward to meeting each of you personally. Come to us soon.” The image blinked off.

  Now that the Rebels knew what Ssi-ruuk did to prisoners, Princess Leia’s face matched her white dress. She touched the smuggler’s arm, and he bent to listen to her whisper. Abruptly Gaeri
guessed he was her Rebel consort. The younger man slowly stared his way around the tables.

  Time to speak up. “You see?” Gaeri called without standing. “This is a threat against which we have no experience and no defense.”

  The young man nodded at her. He obviously understood their predicament.

  “If I may be permitted to speak,” called the gold-plated droid across the chamber. “I found that spectacle utterly appalling. Mechanicals of all kinds will be shocked by this perverse display of—”

  Catcalls from around the chamber drowned it out. As projectors sank back under floor panels, the Rebels stayed on their step below the governor’s chair. Princess Leia took another step downward. “Bakurans,” she cried, “whatever you think about droids, listen to me now. Let me tell my own story.”

  Gaeri rested her chin on her hand. The Rebel princess extended one hand like a classical lecturer. “My father, Bail Organa, was viceroy and first chairman of the Alderaan system, a trusted official of the Republic from the days of the Clone Wars.

  “When Senator Palpatine declared himself emperor, my father began to work toward reform. Change proved impossible. The Empire has never been interested in reform. It only wants power and wealth.”

  Gaeri’s mouth twitched. True enough, if one-sided. The Imperial system discouraged change and built economic stability. She shifted on her repulsor chair.

  “I was little more than a child when I began serving my father as a diplomatic courier and not much older when elected to the Imperial senate.” She glanced sidelong at Governor Nereus. “The Rebellion was already active, and as the Emperor surely guessed, I was not the only young senator involved. My father had barely thrown in his open support when I was captured by the Emperor’s henchman, Lord Darth Vader, and taken on board his first Death Star.

  “The Emperor claims that Alderaan was destroyed as an example to other rebellious worlds. That is only partially true. I stood on board the Death Star. I saw the order given. It was given to terrify me into revealing information.”

  Governor Nereus rocked forward. “Princess Leia, that is enough—unless you wish to be arrested for your crimes here and now.”

  Princess Leia’s chin tilted defiantly. “Governor, I have only strengthened your position. The Empire rules by fear. I have just given the Bakurans one more reason to fear you.”

  But not respect him. Gaeri crossed her ankles, willing for the moment to listen, if not to accept the Rebel point of view. That could have happened to Bakura, if the Rebels hadn’t destroyed that Death Star. Two senators in Gaeri’s field of vision shot covertly suspicious glances toward the governor.

  “After the destruction of Alderaan,” Princess Leia went on softly, “I fled to Alliance headquarters. I have lived with its leaders, moving frequently as the Empire continues to try to wipe us out. We mean to help you,” she called. “The Alliance has sent one of its ablest military leaders, Commander Skywalker of the Jedi Order.”

  Jedi? Caught with her defenses down, Gaeri reached for a pendant on her necklace, the half-black, half-white enameled ring of the Cosmic Balance. According to her religion, Jedi had upset the universe by their very existence. For every height, there had to be a depth. She believed that every time an individual learned to wield so much power, that diminished a hapless counterpart somewhere in the galaxy. The power-greedy Jedi had puffed up their abilities without regard for the unknown others they destroyed. Their disappearance had become a morality tale, and the deaths of both her parents left her profoundly religious. At least in the Balance she’d found comfort.

  But had some of the Jedi survived? Commander Skywalker looked so young, not at all like her idea of a Jedi, except his intensity. He’d stared right at her when she spoke. He might be listening to someone’s thoughts.

  Was a single Jedi so powerful that the Cosmos had brought in the Ssi-ruuk, reducing so many humans to droid-powering circuitry, to balance his rising powers?

  He turned. Blue eyes probed her again.

  She blinked and glared, and she didn’t look away until he did, so she got the satisfaction of seeing his composure falter. He glanced at her again, then shifted his booted feet and stared at the ground.

  With that threat dispelled for the moment, she stared a little longer. Something about him reminded her of Uncle Yeorg.

  Chewbacca leaned against the bank of lockers, openly returning the stares of six stormtroopers. He thought he could guess their intention: to confiscate the group’s weapons and leave them helpless. One trooper had started walking over a few minutes ago. A single teeth-bared growl had sent him back, but that wouldn’t last. Luke’s astromech droid stood near the arch with his antenna rotating. Artoo wouldn’t be much good in a fight.

  Chewbacca didn’t mind the odds, though. One armed Wookiee against six stormtroopers should be just about even.

  He heard bootsteps. Another Imperial strode up the red marble hallway. This one wore an officer’s on-duty khaki. Stormtroopers gathered around him and spoke quietly.

  Chewie fingered his bowcaster.

  Leia hadn’t missed the senators’ whispers and sidelong glances at Luke. She guessed she’d seen how she would affect people if she were a trained Jedi. Luke had offered to teach her, but maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. This was Vader’s legacy: Even Luke’s talents, used honorably to support justice and freedom, made people afraid.

  She must recapture their attention. She sidestepped toward the governor’s gilt repulsor chair. “Governor Nereus, don’t you see? You must accept Rebel assistance or risk your entire population. We are your only hope. Allow us to help you turn the Ssi-ruuk back. We are not a large force, but we are well coordinated and equipped with better striking ships than the Empire has allotted you.” Luke had shown her the BAC readouts.

  Nereus pressed his effeminate lips flat, then said, “For the help you have given us, we will allow you to leave the Bakura system unmolested, and give you a head start back to Endor.”

  One senator jeered from the upper table, “If the Alliance is eager to assist, why didn’t it send us more ships?”

  Luke spread his hands. “We’re doing all that we can without—”

  “You see,” Leia interrupted, anxious to smooth ruffled feathers, “our forces at Endor wish to return to their homes. Some may have already gone.” Nereus grasped the armrests of his chair, smirking at their exchange.

  “We have sent to Endor, though. For reinforcements,” Luke insisted.

  Leia didn’t like the way Governor Nereus’s frown firmed. “But our Endor troops are exhausted. Reinforcements could arrive within several days or not at all.” Don’t work against me, Luke.

  Han extended one stiff hand. “The point is, we’re here to help you. Seems like you ought to take advantage of the offer while it’s open.”

  “Would you clear data files for our use?” Leia asked hastily. “On the Ssi-ruuk, of course, and any on Bakura itself that wouldn’t compromise your security.”

  Governor Nereus covered his mouth with one meaty hand. Feeling like a bug on a laser dish, Leia held onto her poise and tried mentally to nudge him into cooperating. If this interview dragged on without a promise of mutual assistance, they were sunk.

  A tall, elderly man stood up at one of the lower tables. “Nereus,” he exclaimed, “take help where you can get it. Everyone on the planet knows why the Rebels are here. If you turn away their help, you’re going to provoke an uprising.”

  “Thank you, Senator Belden.” Governor Nereus narrowed his heavy-lidded eyes. “All right, Princess Leia. You have your data files. They will be keyed into the communications center in your apartment. Do you have any other requests for the moment, before I have your guide show you to temporary quarters?”

  “Are you leaving the truce issue unsettled?” She bit back frustration.

  “You’ve said your piece. We’ll discuss it.”

  “Very well. Prime Minister Captison—” Leia hustled down to the inner table and extended a hand, which the
trim gentleman clasped momentarily. “I hope we speak again.” Leia led her party across the central rectangle, then up the steps on the other side.

  “Move it, Goldenrod,” Han whispered as they passed Threepio. “And keep your voice box turned off.” He sprinted for the weapon locker. Chewbacca greeted him with a snarl and warned that the troopers had been eyeing their cache.

  “Isn’t that too bad?” Han plunged in for his blaster.

  Luke stepped sideways. He held his deactivated saber one-handed, low in an ambiguous stance, not quite attack ready. Han watched his eyes widen. “It’s all right,” he said. “That officer has them under control.”

  “Who does?” Leia spun around. She stared hard at the conversing Imperials. “He’s from Alderaan,” she whispered low. “I can tell by the way he talks.”

  “Huh.” That wasn’t particularly comforting. Han settled his boot knife and his pocket blaster. “What’s the chance he’s got an Alderaanian conscience inside his Imperial uniform?”

  “Not much,” she said—but she said it to Luke.

  Han straightened and stared. The black-haired officer looked like any other Imperial: like a target, with the kill zone marked by red and blue squares. He turned around and then strode toward them. Han kept a hand near his blaster.

  Luke clipped his saber back to his belt and holstered his blaster, then walked to meet the tall officer. Leia followed Luke, leaving Chewie with the droids. “Cover us, Chewie,” Han murmured, and he followed too.

  “Your Highness,” oozed the officer as he bore down on Leia, “what an honor to meet you at last. Captain Conn Doruggan, at your disposal.”

  Han wouldn’t’ve minded disposing of him for good, but Leia had slipped into her senate manners again. “Captain Doruggan,” she said with an elegant nod. “This is Commander Skywalker, Jedi Knight.” Then she condescended to notice him. “And General Han Solo.”