Star Wars_ Splinter of the Mind's Eye - Alan Dean Foster [38]
“Oh,” was all Luke could find to say. He was at once pleased and concerned—pleased, because their little tale of being escaped criminals from Circarpous was apparently going to avoid scrutiny for a little while longer; concerned, because he couldn’t imagine anything Grammel might have told someone that would intrigue an Imperial representative. Where might they have slipped and revealed something?
“Why would an Imperial representative be so interested in us?” he asked, fishing for information.
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Grammel replied. He walked to stand next to the bars. “I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Luke responded, stepping back from the bars.
“I could make you tell me,” Grammel growled, “but I’ve been ordered to …” he had to force himself away from the bars, “to leave you strictly alone. Don’t let that make you confident. I am of the impression that this representative—and he is a very important one—will have his own plans for you, and that they will be more unpleasant than anything I in my simple way could devise.”
“You or some Imperial officer,” Luke shrugged, affecting the casual attitude of the streetwise, “it’s all the same to us, so long as we don’t get sent back to Circarpous. Wish I knew why all the fuss over us, though.”
Grammel shook his head slowly. “You impress me, the two of you. I really wish you’d tell me who you are, and what this is all about.” He reached into a pocket and pulled out the little box containing the splinter of Kaiburr crystal.
“But I don’t suppose that you will,” he concluded with a sigh, replacing the box in the pocket, “As my hands are now tied, I can’t force it from you the way I’d like to. I must admit that whatever Governor Essada sees in you two escapes me utterly.”
“An Imperial Governor …” Leia had slumped, was backing away and breathing unevenly, both hands going to her face. Sweat beaded on her forehead.
Grammel was studying her intently. “Yes … why should that bother you so?” He glanced sharply at Luke. “What’s going on here?”
Ignoring him, Luke moved to comfort the Princess. “Take it easy, Leia, it might not mean anything.”
“Imperial Governors don’t take an interest in common thieves, Luke,” she whispered tightly. Something was clutching at her throat. “I’ll be interrogated again … like that time … that time.” She broke away, threw herself up against the back wall of the cell.
That time back on the Death Star. Small black worms crawled through her brain. Another Governor’s demands, the now-dead Grand Moff Tarkin, the machine drifting into her holding cell. The remorseless black machine, illegal, concocted by twisted Imperial scientists in defiance of every code, legal and moral. It drifted over to her, moved down, metal limbs preparing to perform efficiently, emotionlessly, in response to inhuman programming.
Screaming, screaming, screaming never to stop she was …
Something hit her hard. She blinked, turned to see Luke looking at her, worried. She slid down to sit up against the wall. Hin had ambled over. The massive, black-eyed Yuzzem bent solicitously over her. One long arm went to touch her curiously, the long flexible snout sniffing at her.
“She’ll be okay, Hin,” Luke told the alien in its own language as he helped Leia wipe away cold tears.
“Just the Empire’s reputation for cruelty,” he called back to Grammel. The explanation sounded lame even to his own ears.
Grammel pressed up against the bars again. “She’s been through questioning before. She knows something,” he insisted excitedly. “Who is she? Who are you two? Tell me!” He pounded on the bars with a fist. “Tell me!” Then his tone turned sly-soft.
“Maybe I can intercede on your behalf with whomever the Imperial representative is. I want everything I can get out of this, you hear me? You two will be my ticket off this lost world. I want off and I want the promotion Essada promised me, and I want more if I can get it! Tell me who you are, what you know. I’ll bargain with you. Give me something to use, some information