Star Wars the Truce at Bakura - Kathy Tyers [124]
“Are you ill?”
“I said I’ve taken care of that. I have another human on board who was badly burned. I think he could make it, if he got help quickly.”
“Oh.” Thanas narrowed his eyes and made a guess. “Sibwarra?”
Skywalker hesitated. “Yes.”
“You’re asking too much.” What irrational, supernatural agency had raised up Luke Skywalker to judge his scruples? He paced along the bridge pit past humming banks of instruments. “But I would like to see Sibwarra brought to justice. Empire or Alliance, it doesn’t matter—so long as it’s a human jury. I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’ll shuttle over a skeleton crew for the Dominant,” said Skywalker.
Solo’s voice interjected over Skywalker’s, “But you’d better come over unarmed, in a survival pod. I’m making a big concession, letting you on board at all.”
“Understood … General.”
The speaker fell silent.
Thanas drew a deep breath. He had no idea what to expect next, but he wasn’t taking his crew into it. He’d face the Alliance’s wrath, plague risk and all, on his own. Almost. “Bridge crew, board lifeboats. Reserve a single two-man evacuation pod.”
“Sir.” One pivoted and loped off the deck.
“Carry him, someone.” Thanas nodded at the Security man lying stunned on the deck. “Take him with you. Captain Jamer, you’re in command.”
“Sir.” A beetle-bodied little man stalked out at rear guard. Pter Thanas rubbed his chin, then opened a line to his medical staff. Perhaps Skywalker had neutralized one threat of contagion, but Thanas wouldn’t feel safe in the Jedi’s presence until his own staff checked him over.
Luke glanced at Han, who maneuvered the Falcon toward a tiny round object. Sensors confirmed two life-forms. “You’re sure you want to take him on board?” Han fidgeted.
Luke sighed, weary with arguing. “Yes. Next question?”
“Why?” Han snapped.
“We’re all a little edgy,” Leia said, “but this is the only place to put him. We’ve got to check on the rumors from Salis D’aar immediately.”
“Well, even unarmed, he’s not staying loose on my ship. Handcuff him to Chewie—no, to Threepio—and lock them in a cargo hold. Threepio can entertain him.”
Luke smiled. “That sounds like punishment enough for anyone.”
“Poor Thanas,” agreed Leia.
Chewbacca delicately stroked airlock controls, keying the vacuum seal for manual release, and then Luke, Han, and Leia walked to the airlock and waited. Several minutes later, Commander Thanas stepped through with both hands raised. The posture tugged his khaki tunic askew. “I’m unarmed,” he insisted. “Check me.”
Leia ran a weapons scanner over him. “Looks clean,” she announced. Meanwhile, Commander Thanas’s small, slight companion trained a medical sensor up and down Luke’s body. Luke held still, guessing Thanas had chosen the medic for his wide-eyed, soft-chinned, harmless appearance. “What’s in that pack?” Leia asked sharply.
“Medical equipment. Burn treatment. Commander Skywalker asked for—”
“This way.” Luke turned away from the top airlock.
The corpsman dropped his medisensor into a pocket. “Skywalker’s clean, too, Commander. A preliminary scan shows severe mechanical bronchitis, but no infestation.” He shrugged at Thanas.
Luke hadn’t doubted, but the medic’s diagnosis reassured him. He led deeper into the ship.
Threepio sat at the hologram board. Behind him, on a single bunk, Dev lay still. Threepio stood. “Greetings,” he began cheerily. “I am—”
“Quiet,” Leia murmured. “Take this pair of binders and attach yourself to Commander Thanas. Escort him to the aft cargo bay. You’re designated security until further notice.”
One binder snicked shut around Thanas’s wrist, and the other clinked against Threepio’s. “Very well, Your Highness. Come with me, sir. I am See-Threepio, protocol droid …”
Luke led the mousy little medic to Dev and gently drew a sheet off the youth’s scarred, folded arms. “He’s in a Jedi healing trance,” Luke said, “and he’s in no pain—for now.