by Kathy Tyers
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 Eppie, and frankly she admired his decision. If Jedi were self-serving at 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—that 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 while 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 toggled a large switch, then said aloud—but softly, “Disruption bubble generator. I can’t leave it on for more than a few seconds at once. You’re in danger.”
“What’s wrong?”
“The Ssi-ruuk have approached Governor Nereus.” She slid her hand back into the satchel. “Is your party comfortable here, Commander?” she asked full-voice.
He had to think quickly. “The situation’s a little awkward,” he answered. “I have an allergic reaction to stormtrooper armor.”
Good, she mouthed. She raised her right eyebrow, over the green eye, then twisted her wrist again and softly said, “They’ve asked Governor Nereus to surrender you and offered to leave Bakura if he does.”
The dream-warning rushed back into his mind. So, they meant to move through Nereus. “Naturally, he’s tempted.”
“I don’t think so. He’s not stupid. If they want you alive, he’s going to make sure they don’t get you that way.” She glanced down and moved her hand again. “We all have to deal with our automatic reactions, I suppose,” she announced.
So much for Leia’s assurance that Nereus wouldn’t harm them. Now the fun begins. “The accommodations are excellent, though.” He motioned toward a corner lounge. “I’ve been on my feet all day. Please. Sit down, so I can.”
“I don’t think I should.”
He overlaid his voice with a calming veneer of Force overtones. “I wish you would trust me.”
She slid her hand back into the string bag. “I suppose my reaction to Jedi is like yours to stormtroopers.”
“I’m learning to suppress mine.”
“So am I. Eppie was still sleeping when I went back.” She glanced away, then mumbled, “Thank you. Now … my aide and I intercepted a transmission from the Ssi-ruuk. Governor Nereus asked for one day to arrange things.”
“One day.” Luke nodded. “Thank you.”
Shift. “Is there anything your alien requires? What did you say he was, a Wook?”
“Wookiee. Nothing special, just twice as much food as the rest of us.”
“I understand.” She worked the generator again. “They wouldn’t come after you the way they’d grab one of us plain folks, you know. Neither will Governor Nereus. Watch your back. Watch your guards. Watch what you eat and drink and breathe.”
“What do the Ssi-ruuk want me for?”
She shrugged.
“I’ll be careful,” he said quietly. Nereus would probably try to play all angles, convincing the Ssi-ruuk he meant to cooperate.
Maybe he did.
“Have you eaten this evening?” Gaeriel asked. “I can have a light dinner sent to my suite and then diverted here.”
Touched, Luke brushed at a grease stain on his coverall, then hid it under one hand. “Would you?”
Once she’d called over the comm center for something he couldn’t remember, let alone pronounce, awkward silence fell. Luke held his peace, wondering what she would say if he waited. At last she stopped pacing around the room, looking out the long window into the greenwell, and up at the ceiling. She glanced over at him. “Are you listening to me think?” she asked boldly.
Her string bag lay on the repulsor lounge. “I can’t do that,” he said carefully. “Some of your feelings come through the Force, but that’s all.” Not really all.
“That’s still not fair. I can’t tell what you’re feeling.”
Luke slid out the gray box and found the control. “Would you like to know what I’m feeling?”
“Yes.”
He drew a deep breath. Honesty was one thing, stupidity another. He wished he had Leia’s gift for turning a phrase. “I already know you on a deeper level than anyone else does. Of course, that makes it worse, because all you know about me is what you think you believe.” Had he said that right? He plowed on. “Your feelings are strong for me. Strongly ambivalent.”
She walked toward the lounger. “It’s not that I’m afraid of you, Commander—”
“Luke,” he insisted.
“I have a religious objection to what you are. What you’ve become. You weren’t born a Jedi. And you’d better turn that back off for a few seconds, or we’ll both be in trouble.” Then he caught it: through the Force, a swirl of intense attraction that had not come from him. Five years ago, he might have seized her hand and sworn away everything—the Fleet, the Alliance, and the Force.
But those five years had molded his destiny. Perhaps he could change her mind.
He caught himself. What right did he have to chip at her beliefs? She drew on the Force like anyone else, though she couldn’t accept it.
Quickly, he switched the field off. “How long have you been a senator?” he asked. Surely that could be considered casual conversation.
“The senate elected me five years ago. I’ve been in school ever since, either here or at Imperial Center. And don’t be too impressed with the position.” She tapped her thumbs together. “It mostly involves finding creative ways to drain tax credit out of Bakurans. Now we’ve got an influx of Imperial data flow and culture to support, too. Some of it’s very good,” she added, “but some of it only appeals to a few people who think like Governor Nereus.”
In every subjugated culture, there’d be a few people who welcomed the Empire because they were already Imperials at heart. “I don’t think you’re one of them.”
She glanced at the generator. Perhaps the conversation was getting too personal for comfort. “Does it always rain this much?” he asked. “I was raised on a desert world.”
After a few more noncommittal comments on the weather, he turned the generator back on. “I will respect your fears,” he said. “And your beliefs.”
The door chimed.
Gaeri sprang up and opened it, grateful for the distraction. She had no business flirting with destiny this way, and no hope of bringing Luke Skywalker to understand the universe as she saw it.
One of her personal staff pushed a hover cart through the door. Gaeri motioned for the staffer to park it between their chairs. Once he had gone, she uncovered the single plate. “I hope you like seafood.” Raised on a desert world—and this is twice in two days.
“Would you stay?”
“Forgive my cowardice, Luke, but …”
Wordlessly he unhooked a cylindrical silvery object from his belt and laid it on the repulsor cart. Long enough to grip two-handed, it looked like half of a weapon.
“Is that what I think it is?” she asked softly.
“You may be safer here than at home.” His face colored. “Sorry,” he added. “I sound like a swaggering stormtrooper.”
At least he could laugh at himself. She hesitated. For a few minutes, she’d probably be safe. “There are two of them out in that corridor,” she reminded him, “and if I were you, I wouldn’t trust them any more. Still—this smells very fresh. I’ll join you.”
Evidently he did like seafood, because he ate like a starving man. She blunted her hunger with a few delicately seasoned bites. In a few minutes, he reached for the projector, which now lay on the cart bes
ide his lightsaber. “Do most Bakurans share your beliefs?” he asked.
Relieved that he’d brought up the subject, she answered, “Many are stricter. My sister is an ascetic. She lives with almost nothing in order to free up more for everyone else. I’m less … devoted. We’re a minority, but the weight of the universe could balance on one rightly placed atom.”
“I can feel through the Force that you’re a woman of depth. Of deep feelings.”
“I thought I’d convinced everyone that I’m a career politician.”
“Everyone else seems convinced.”
“Good,” she said lightly. Mustn’t look at his eyes—but they’re such a delicate blue.
“The Ssi-ruuk are out there.” He gestured with his fork. “I have a day, at most, to get ready for them.”
“Less.”
“Once I settle with them, I’ll come back—to talk with you, Gaeriel—if there’s any hope that you’d reconsider about me. About Jedi. You were only partially right when you said I wasn’t born a Jedi. The Force is strong in my family.”
Startled, she sipped from the water glass. Part of her head had guessed he might say something like this, and part of her heart had longed to hear it. Why not admit it? she asked herself. See how he reacts. “Thank you for being … honest. We have no time to be socially correct. And I’m drawn to you, which is dangerous.”
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t—”
“Yes, you would. If I encouraged you.” She stared down at her clasped fingers. “You could manipulate people easily if you chose to.”
“I wouldn’t,” he repeated, blushing. “That would be dishonest. There’s no future in it.”
She fingered her pendant. “What are you, Luke Skywalker? What gives you the right to these powers?”
“I’m a …” He faltered. “A farm boy, I guess.”
“A family of Force-strong farm boys?” she asked sarcastically.
The high color drained from his face. She must’ve struck a nerve. “Think of it this way,” he murmured, scraping the last morsel off his plate. “There will always be people who are strong for evil. If the only way to protect others is for a few of us to become strong in the Force for good, isn’t that important? Even if your beliefs are correct, and that means bringing someone else low? People constantly sacrifice themselves for good causes. I didn’t ask anyone to die for me.”