Star Wars the Truce at Bakura - Kathy Tyers [46]
She yawned mightily, then stretched her arms and tipped her repulsor chair. Han’s feet showed through the doorway of his bedroom—the suite had four private rooms, two with windows and two with real-time murals. If Han had fallen asleep on the floor, trying to study Artoo’s data, she didn’t care.
Looking at that much of him raised her blood pressure. The nerve of him, implying she wanted to dally with an ex-Alderaanian Imperial. A renegade, a quisling.
She didn’t hear any sign of Chewbacca. Threepio probably stood where she’d left him, plugged into the main comm center near the doorway, and Luke—
Once Luke had left, she’d calmed down a bit. She shouldn’t let the knowledge that Vader was their father infuriate her so. Even Han hadn’t tossed a single snide comment when she’d swallowed her humiliation back on Endor and told him about Vader. He hadn’t said anything, only held her. With all Darth Vader had done to him—sending the galaxy’s lowest scum to chase him down, then using him as an experimental animal to test a carbon freeze unit, scorching and creasing his precious ship with TIE-fighter laser cannon—evidently Han wasn’t going to hold any of it against Leia or Luke. So long as she avoided anything and anybody that reminded her of Vader or the Force, she’d be all right.
Fat chance, on this trip. Get hold of yourself, she ordered.
“Mistress Leia?” called Threepio’s voice.
She walked to her bedroom door. “What is it?”
“A message for you. Prime Minister Captison.”
“Put it on my bedroom terminal.” She hurried back to the tri-D station. Her door slid shut on a frictionless channel. She’d never seen so many small-scale repulsors.
Leia sat down. She would have recognized the image even without Threepio’s announcement. Collecting her composure, she greeted him respectfully. “I hope your senate decided in our favor, Prime Minister.”
He smiled with the sad, authoritative dignity she remembered from Bail Organa. “Nothing was finalized,” he said. “I hope you and your party are comfortable?”
“I’m delighted to be speaking at such length with your people, but we expect a little trouble convincing the Imperiai military that we’re here to do a job and then go home.”
“Your Highness.” The prime minister’s tone reproached her gently. “That’s not why you’re here, is it?” Captison raised a hand. “That’s all right. Our people need a distraction. They’ve had nothing but Ssi-ruuk on their minds for over a week.”
“I understand,” Leia murmured. “What can I do for you, Prime Minister?”
“You—and your party—could join me at my home this evening. Dinner will be at nineteen hundred.”
She longed to put down her head and sleep, but … “That would be delightful,” she said. It could be a wonderful distraction, a real breakthrough. “On behalf of General Solo and Commander Skywalker, I accept.” What about Chewie? she thought suddenly. He wouldn’t fit, not the way these people felt about aliens. Well, she hoped she could make him understand. He could get some sleep. “Thank you very much.”
“I will send an escort for you shortly after eighteen thirty. Oh,” he added, “I have invited Governor Nereus as well. A chance to open communication off the official records.”
That would keep her awake. Guaranteed. “How thoughtful of you, Prime Minister. Thank you.” Leia switched off. It was the perfect opportunity. High time to ask the Imperials what they thought about Emperor Palpatine’s intentions, inviting the Ssi-ruuk in this direction.
She hoped Luke got back from the spaceport in time to clean up.
She hoped Luke got back, period.
CHAPTER
9
By the time Dev had scraped nauseating blobs of mixed food out of the galleyvac unit, an hour had passed. He must report to Elder Sh’tk’ith—Bluescale—before his midcycle bath. Not that he wanted renewal, but if Bluescale thought Dev had avoided him, he’d pry deeper. Bluescale was incredibly sensitive to changes in Dev’s scent. Besides, the elder had a talent for hypnotic control, even though he was as Force blind as the rest of them. Dev ought to be able to resist