Star Wars the Truce at Bakura - Kathy Tyers [34]
Chewie’s lips drew back in pleasure, and he wrinkled his black nose. The big Wookiee had little use for politics and no trust for Imperials. He would love to stand guard.
Leia led the group back toward the arch.
“Stop right there,” said the stormtrooper who’d spoken before. He pointed at Luke’s lightsaber. “That’s a weapon, too.”
Luke extended a tendril of Force energy and answered soberly, “This is a symbol of honor. Not an offensive weapon. Let it pass.”
“Let it pass,” echoed the stormtrooper in the same sober tone. Recovering, he added, “I’d leave the droid at the door. Droid malfunctions nearly killed the first crew of Bakuran colonists.”
“Sir,” protested Threepio, “my function is—”
“Thank you,” Leia said firmly. None of them were forgetting that restraining bolt. “Threepio will wait just inside.”
A door warden announced, “Senator Princess Leia Organa, of Alderaan. And”—he waved a hand vaguely—“and escorts.”
CHAPTER
7
Leia led them through the arch and mounted four broad steps into a vast square chamber. Luke followed, matching Han step for step, hoping he’d done the right thing by keeping his lightsaber. He didn’t want to offend the entire Bakuran senate by carrying in a weapon, but they might not recognize it as dangerous. He also hoped Leia would’ve challenged him if she’d thought it important.
The chamber was square under a tiled ceiling, and in each corner stood a tall, glassy pillar. Most of the senators were human, with only two exceptions: tall, white-skinned individuals with corrugated scalp instead of hair. Luke opened himself to listen through the Force. A babble surrounded him, the textures of forty or fifty nervous minds. Narrowing his focus, he reached straight across the chamber toward a massive repulsor chair, all gold and purple except for two banks of controls on the armrests. Wilek Nereus must have caught a faster shuttle. He sat there already, with his double-mindedness coming through as strongly as ever.
Luke let his attention drift leftward, observing the senators’ reactions to Leia. He sensed curiosity tinged with hostility, but a dark undercurrent of fear also pervaded the chamber. This world was under attack.
“Stay here, Threepio.” Leia halted atop the stairs and faced Governor Nereus. “Good morning again, Governor.”
His heavy eyebrows lowered. “Come in,” he said. “Come down.”
They stepped forward and down to the central rectangle. Floor seams showed where it could be slid aside. Luke had a disconcerting flash of memory that included a trapdoor and a huge, slavering Rancor that’d almost devoured him. Thrusting the image aside, he glanced around the chamber. The Bakuran senators displayed all common shades of human skin, a subtle blending of blood lines.
One trim, athletic-looking man with thick white hair, who sat below Governor Nereus at an inner table, extended a hand. “Welcome to Bakura,” he said. “I am Prime Minister Yeorg Captison. Under normal circumstances, you would have had a protocol briefing, and I apologize for the haste with which this meeting was convened, but certainly you understand.”
Leia—who’d barely acknowledged Governor Nereus—made a deep, deliberate curtsey to the older man. Luke scanned him. The prime minister’s charisma made a glimmer in the Force only a shade dimmer than Mon Mothma’s. Luke glanced back up at Nereus, wondering why the governor hadn’t eradicated him. Captison must’ve been very careful. Or did he have Imperial connections?
“Please don’t apologize,” said Leia. “This is a desperate hour.”
Another inner-table man stood up. “Blaine Harris, defense minister. You have no idea how desperate. All of our outposts on the other planets in the system have been destroyed. Our salvage crews that survived to report back found no bodies and no survivors.” Harris’s fear shot an answering shiver down Luke’s back. Hastily he swept his focus leftward along that table, feeling echoes of fear, hope, and hostility. When he reached its end, he worked toward the right along the outer, upper table.
A sharp-chinned