Star Wars the Truce at Bakura - Kathy Tyers [52]
Everything looked terribly formal … and something smelled delicious. Luke’s stomach rumbled, making him feel more like a farm boy than ever. Great, he thought. All I need is to make a fool out of myself in front of these people—and embarrass Leia. He wished he had let her train him in diplomatic functions such as formal dinners. There was a truce at stake.
“Good evening, Captison. Your Highness. General. Commander.” Governor Nereus’s smile looked oily down the table. “Good evening, Gaeriel.”
The arrival of a soup course made answering unnecessary. By the time Luke was free to speak again, Senator Belden had engaged Madam Captison, Leia, and the prime minister at their head of the table (good: Leia would cultivate Belden and the elder Captisons). Governor Nereus leaned aside to let one of his bodyguard/aides whisper something in his ear. Han’s eyes tracked Leia.
Only Senator Gaeriel Captison was available for conversation. Luke took a deep breath—nothing risked, nothing gained: “You have some very strong preconceptions about Jedi,” he said.
Her mysterious eyes blinked. Shallow creases furrowed her forehead.
“You see,” he went on quickly, “this morning in the senate chamber, I was doing all I could to see who might be willing to work with the Alliance. I won’t deny it.”
“I am a trained Imperial diplomat, Commander.” She touched a cloth napkin to her mouth and glanced up the table toward Belden. “It’s possible some of the others are Rebellion sympathizers. And misled.”
He definitely needed to talk with Senator Belden. “We want to help protect you from the Ssi-ruuk,” he said softly. “I spent two hours at the garrison this morning, talking strategy with Commander Thanas. He has accepted our presence, temporarily. Can’t you? For your people’s sake?”
“We are grateful to the Alliance for help.”
Deciding to stick with the direct approach, he laid down his spoon. “Perhaps you think I can read your mind, Senator Captison. I can only sense your emotions, and only when I’m trying to. Most of the time, I live pretty much the way you do.”
“It’s not that,” she admitted, but he felt something inside her relax. She fingered an enameled pendant that hung over her breastbone on a short gold chain. “I have … religious difficulties with your kind.”
That caught him like a kick to the stomach. Ben and Yoda had taught him that the Force embraced all religions. “And the Alliance?” he asked.
“You’re right. At the moment, we need every bit of help we can get.” She clenched a small hand on the tabletop. “Forgive me if I’ve seemed ungrateful. The Ssi-ruuk have us terrified, but in the long run, accepting your help could lead to unpleasant repercussions.”
“Like what happened to Alderaan,” he said softly. “I understand. The Empire rules by your fears.”
She stared down at her soup dish. Stretching out, he felt a turmoil that had to be her struggle for a response.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You have to excuse my manners. I wasn’t brought up to diplomacy.”
“How refreshing.” She flashed a subtle, enchanting smile. He flung self-control to the unseen winds of the Force and reached down deep to fully sense her presence. Layers and layers: the living depth of Endor’s teeming forest, the all-enveloping warmth of a night on sandy Tatooine, and the hypnotic glitter of deep space came to mind.…
Small talk! he reminded himself. Servants brought in a main course of tiny green shellfish and buttery, unfamiliar vegetables, served with bowls full of pale blue-brown grain. Luke remarked on the greenery, the twin rivers, and the fishes underfoot, and tried complimenting her outfit. She remained polite but distant until he asked, as servants removed plates and bowls, “I like Senator Belden. Is he a friend of your family?”
“Yes. For years, despite his oddities.” Evidently a very close friend. Abruptly, her stiff-upper-lip guard melted away. She grasped a carafe that