Star Wars the Truce at Bakura - Kathy Tyers [104]
She seemed to feel something growing inside her.
“Don’t worry. The larva is extremely susceptible to pure oxygen. You’re almost instantly curable—for about the next hour.” He touched a key on his desktop. “Medic. Bring kit cee-dee twelve.”
“So I got it instead of Skywalker?” At least Luke stood a chance, up there.
“No,” he said mildly. “Remember, three eggs in each pod. He definitely carries two. I had wondered about the third egg. Be proud of your friend, Gaeriel. Through him, the Ssi-ruuvi fleet may become infested. I can almost guarantee that no natural predators of Olabrian Trichoids travel with the Ssi-ruuk. If we can hold them off for one day, we have won.”
The door slid open. Her medic hurried through, carrying a breath mask, a pony bottle, and a specimen jar. “This will only take a minute, Gaeriel.” Nereus folded his hands on his desktop. “Cooperate with the medic.”
She eyed the bottle, wondering what it held besides oxygen. “Only if you breathe it first.”
Nereus shrugged. “I’ll take some of that, if you don’t mind,” he told the medic. After he’d drawn two deep breaths, he smiled toothily. “Your turn, Gaeriel.”
She waited until the medic sterilized the mask before she let him press it to her face. The gas had no odor. She inhaled again, then stared up at the medic’s eyes. “Keep it up,” he said, “until you—”
Abruptly she gagged. The medic held the mask down firmly. She choked, shut her eyes, and spit out something awful. Then she staggered backward to her seat as the medic dumped something out of the mask into the jar. She felt queasy. Luke, she moaned silently. Just as she’d feared, he might die before the Ssi-ruuk could use him. Perhaps Nereus had saved humankind, after all—but at what cost? Now that he was doomed, she regretted every harsh word.
“Bravely done.” Nereus clapped his fingertips. “Naturally, it is inconvenient that you know what happened to Madam Belden.”
Gaeriel concentrated on swallowing. “Perhaps not, Governor. Some kinds of knowledge need to be disseminated, if you mean to frighten people with them.”
“Well played, indeed! I like you better and better. Once we defeat the Rebels, I may pardon you. I may go so far as to make room for you on my personal staff. But you’ve known that I’d like that all along. Haven’t you?” He rested his chin on one hand.
Repulsed, she gripped her knees. “May I have a drink of water?”
He called for one. Once she’d sipped it, and the medic had left carrying his specimen jar, she said, “I understand there’s going to be a battle. May I observe from your war room?”
“No need to go anywhere.” He fiddled with his desk console. A small but detailed hologram of near space appeared over his desk. He bent down, reached into a desk compartment, and raised a sealed bottle of namana nectar. “To celebrate the Imperial victory,” he said with a flourish.
Celebrate, she echoed bitterly, vowing not to taste it. Her throat burned already.
Dev’s heart rate accelerated as they approached the orbiting Imperial defense web. This time, no Imperial troopers on board would guide them through it. Peering out the shuttle’s main viewport, Dev could see slower shuttles docking with orbiting ships. Humans were scrambling for battle. Directly in front of him, Bluescale, Firwirrung, and the others warbled among themselves. They sat on the shuttle’s deck, curled around the front seats.
If human fighterships blasted this shuttle, that would settle the matter of Skywalker. Still, he doubted it would happen below the defense web. All the defenders would be looking outward, trying to keep Ssi-ruuvi gunships from breaking through to the planet’s surface. Besides, this craft looked like any other Imperial ship, shuttling its crew to an orbiting cruiser.
Something flashed in front of them. An instant later, pieces of one human fighter blasted out of the flash zone. It