Star Wars_ Children of the Jedi - Barbara Hambly [43]
“I’m not so sure of that, sir. The SP Eighty cleaner droids were very diligent about scrubbing all trace of their trail from the walls and floors.”
Luke stopped, and leaned back against the wall, his head swimming. Did other Jedi Masters have to go through this?
“What happened here?” He opened his eyes again. The stretch of hallway before them was dark, as the Gakfedds’ village hold and the area around it had been, the glowpanels of the ceiling dead for easily a hundred meters in front of them. A hatch cover had been ripped loose halfway down and wires and cables trailed out into the hall like the entrails of a gutted beast. As he limped nearer Luke smelled a familiar odor, faint and distant now, but distinctive … “Jawas?”
If Threepio had possessed lungs he would have heaved a long-suffering sigh. “I’m afraid so, sir. It appears that on such planets where the Empire posted troops to be picked up for this mission thirty years ago, the automated landers collected whatever sentient beings they could find.”
“Oh, great,” sighed Luke, bending carefully to study the frame of the gutted hatch. It was grubby with small handprints. He wondered how many of the meter-tall, brown-robed scavengers the lander had picked up on Tatooine.
“Those were Talz we saw in the mess hall, from Alzoc Three. I have not been very far afield, Master Luke, but I know there are also Affytechans from Dom-Bradden aboard, and the Maker only knows what else besides!”
“Great,” said Luke again, limping on. “So in order to blow up the ship before it reaches Plawal I’m going to have to find the troop transports and somehow get everybody on board. I suppose I could always tell the Gamorreans it’s orders, but …” He hesitated, remembering the vicious skill of the ship’s gunner, the one Threepio insisted did not exist.
Whatever else might be automated on the Eye of Palpatine, there might very well be one member of the original mission crew still on board.
“Here. This looks like what we’re after.”
They had traversed the blacked-out section of corridor to the lighted area beyond. A small office on the right had clearly belonged to a supercargo or quartermaster; a black wall-mounted desk bore a large, curved keyboard, and the staring onyx darkness of a monitor screen gazed gravely down above. Luke sank gratefully into the leather padding of the chair—definitely a quartermaster, he thought—propped his staff against the desk, and flipped the on toggle.
“Let’s see if we can talk this thing into giving us some idea of how much time we have, before we do anything else.”
He typed in Mission status request. It was a common enough command, involving no classified information, but even knowing when the Eye was expected to reach Plawal would tell him how urgently he had to move.
• Mission time consonant with the objectives of the Will
“Hunh?”
Luke typed in Menu.
• The Will requests objective of this information
Orientation, typed Luke.
• Current status aligned with timetable of the Will. No further information necessary
“They really didn’t want to risk anyone outside finding out about their mission, did they?” murmured Luke. The screen grayed and swam before his eyes, and he drew the Force to him, wearily clearing, strengthening the slowly healing tissues of the brain.
Sick bay, he thought tiredly. Right after this, sick bay …
“When did the last lander come aboard, Threepio?”
“Yesterday, I believe. Those were the Talz.”
Luke considered. “If they’re trying to avoid suspicion, it makes sense that they’d lie low for a day or two, maybe longer, before making another hyperspace jump. Maybe a lot longer, depending on who they think was watching them thirty years ago.”
Ben Kenobi, almost certainly. Bail Organa. Mon Mothma. Those who’d watched the rise of Palpatine to supreme power, the birth of the New Order, first with suspicion, then with growing alarm.
“The ship’s certainly big enough to keep a couple of