Star Wars the Truce at Bakura - Kathy Tyers [54]
“Oh, yes.” Nereus’s tone scoffed. “What an excellent idea, General Solo. But Ssi-ruuvi speech has never been translated, and the Empire does not deal with … aliens.”
Except as slaves, Luke added to himself.
“Never translated?” Han leaned over his scattered silverware. “Never’s a big word, Governor.”
Gaeriel spoke up from Luke’s right. “Not that we know of,” she explained, “but if it’s been translated elsewhere, that will do us little good here.”
“And I doubt that the Wookiee could duplicate it,” Nereus announced triumphantly, “since Wookiees have never even mastered human speech. Whistles, tweets—like a flock of birds. That’s why we call them Fluties.”
“Governor,” Leia called from her end of the table. “Perhaps I might offer the service of my protocol droid, See-Threepio. He knows over six million languages.”
Nereus laughed shortly. It sounded almost like a snarl. “Send a droid and an alien to represent an Imperial world? I think not.”
Leia didn’t answer. Chewie crossed his long arms and leaned back, the body language plainly conveying, “I’m not going anywhere.” Han smiled at the centerpiece.
“One more thing,” said Nereus. “Anyone who tries to talk Bakurans into sedition—publicly or privately—will be arrested and expelled. Must I make myself clearer?”
“No, Governor,” Leia said in an icy tone, “but I have a question for you. According to the recording you showed us in front of the senate, the Ssi-ruuk are here because your late Emperor invited them. How do you explain that?”
Nereus raised his head. “I do not presume to second-guess the Emperor, Your Highness.”
“Maybe he thought he could conquer them,” Belden suggested loudly.
Han rocked his ornate chair. “Maybe he had surplus prisoners to sell them.”
Luke caught a flash of insight. “That’s part of it,” he guessed aloud. Faces turned toward him, some curious, some accusing. “What does any moisture farmer do with his produce?”
Gaeriel shrugged.
“He delivers it to a processor in return for a share of the processed goods.” Thanks, Uncle Owen. “Palpatine wanted battle droids of his own. They’re more maneuverable than your TIE fighters—and far better shielded for their size.”
“True,” Nereus admitted, “from what I hear.”
“Well, we’ve seen them.” Leia tilted her chin. “At close range.”
No one spoke for several seconds. Gradually, separate conversations began to buzz again. Han leaned close to Leia. Luke barely caught, “… but this isn’t getting us anywhere, Your Worship. Let’s go back and get some sleep.”
He only heard a few hissing words of her answer. “I must spend … Minister Captison.”
A soft breath against his right ear startled him. “Is that man the princess’s consort?” Gaeriel whispered.
They certainly fight like it. “I think so.” Luke eyed Han. “He’s a little rough at the edges, but he’s the truest friend anyone could have. Didn’t you ever know someone like that?”
“Well.” She adjusted her sparkling shawl, which had slipped off one white shoulder. “Yes.”
They were halfway into dessert, something cold in a bowl with six nut-flavored layers, when an Imperial trooper strode in. The soldier touched Governor Nereus’s shoulder and led him out a vine-covered arch. “What do you think that’s about?” Luke murmured to Gaeriel.
Her glance followed them. “We’ll soon see.”
The governor returned five minutes later, fairly blasting agitation and fear. Surely even Gaeriel saw it.
“Something’s very wrong, Your Excellency.” Luke spoke in a voice that carried throughout the dining room. All other conversation stilled.
Nereus drew a deep breath. Then he speared Luke with an angry expression. “That was a personal communiqué from Admiral Prittick of the Fleet. You all might as well hear it.” His strident voice took on a knife edge. “His message confirms these Rebels’ claims. The second Death Star has been destroyed, and Emperor Palpatine is presumed dead … as is Lord Vader. The Fleet is regrouping near Annaj.”
Leia nodded. “Now do you believe us?” she asked. “Commander Skywalker saw him die.”
Gaeriel recoiled. “I didn’t kill him,” Luke