Star Wars the Truce at Bakura - Kathy Tyers [129]
“No, Luke. Leia’s down in the complex negotiating. It’s me.”
That was Gaeriel’s voice. Had Han invited her on board? Luke struggled to stand, but his right leg wouldn’t push. “Help,” he muttered. Gaeriel pulled him up by one arm. To his surprise, she swept off the shawl she had tied around her waist. Delicately she shrouded Dev’s face.
“Thank you,” he murmured. “No one else cared.”
“I did that for your sake, not his.” Gaeri raised one eyebrow. “Was he really all right, in the end?”
“In his mind? Yes,” he answered quietly.
“Why?” Gaeriel whispered. “Why did you want to save him of all people?”
Not wanting to meet her eyes, Luke spoke toward the Falcon’s deck. “He’d known suffering. I wanted him to know strength.”
“I’m not sure it was just strength you showed him. You also gave him human compassion.”
Control. He must control. He wanted to collapse in her arms. He tried to smile.
“Don’t.” She slid her hands around his waist, then up toward his shoulders. Pulling him close, she whispered, “Let it out, Luke. It hurts. I know. You’ll have joy later. The Cosmos balances.”
Flinging pretense aside, Luke held her and cried. She stood and took it. Maybe seeing him like this would balance her memories of his powers. Finally quieted, he led her to seats at the hologram table.
“How did you—” She faltered. “I assume—you killed the Trichoid larvae?”
“Is that what they were?” he asked. “How do you know?”
“I got one, too. Governor Nereus called in a medic for me. But you had no medic.”
“I had the Force.”
“You were wonderful at the cantina. I’ll never forget that.”
“What else could I have done?”
She stared up at him. Strands of honey-colored hair, stirred by the Falcon’s ventilators, drifted into her face.
“Your world is beautiful,” he murmured. “I’m glad to have seen it.”
“I have no desire to leave again. Ever.”
“Bakura will be sending an envoy to the Alliance,” he said gently, trying to mask his last hope. “You’re perfectly trained for it.”
“When that day comes I will nominate someone else, Luke. I have work to do here. Eppie will need me, and Uncle Yeorg. I’m a Captison. I’ve been trained for this.”
“I … understand.” Disappointed in the end, he rested his elbows on the hologram table and shifted his legs. The right one still ached where he’d wrenched it, and breathing deeply hurt. He’d spend the entire hyperspace run back to Endor in another healing trance. Either that, or Too-Onebee would dump him into a tank again. Probably both.
“Are you taking prisoners of war?” she asked quietly.
“We don’t do that. It would make liars of us, and lies of our goals. Every trooper we send home will tell three or four others that the Alliance … well, that we had them in our power but we let them go.”
“Luke?” she whispered. She laid her fingertips on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
He felt the softening he’d hoped for, too late. He turned to her slowly and fully opened himself to the Force, hoping to make the sensation last. This time, she wouldn’t raise her defenses. “What for?” he asked. “This has been a victory for humankind.”
Her cheeks colored. “I want to be your ally, Luke. But from a distance.”
He pushed back a quiet desolation that threatened to send him over another emotional brink. He mustn’t think of spending forever alone. “From a distance,” he agreed, hesitantly touching her face. “But just once, from here.”
She leaned into his arms. He kissed her, letting the moment flood his perception, petal-warm lips and the deep sweet warmth of her life presence.
Before she could pull away and ruin the memory, he released her. “I’ll see you off the ship,” he murmured. They stood. He walked her along the corridor, careful not to limp.
The medic intercepted him at the top of the ramp. “I believe you need attention, sir. I assure you my sympathies are neutral.”
“Good-bye,” Gaeri murmured.
Luke squeezed her hand. The Force will be with you, Gaeri. Always. He stared after her until she vanished into a drop shaft with a last flicker of skirts. A breeze dropped swirls of fine ash from