Star Wars the Truce at Bakura - Kathy Tyers [59]
Worse, if the Ssi-ruuk knew Skywalker expected them, they’d find a way to take him anyway: more force, greater numbers, inventive technology. Even a Jedi didn’t stand a chance. The galaxy would fall.
Dev could think of only one escape. Using what little he knew of the Force, he could plunge willingly into the renewal trance, bypassing Bluescale’s hypnotic awareness.
He recoiled from the idea. Renewal would mean the death of Dev Sibwarra, human. He would forget all that had made him free.
Free for how long? Hanging his head, he grimaced. He had thrown down his life countless times already, for no purpose. This time, he could save dozens of millions of humans … including one Jedi. His was a small, poor unsung sacrifice to buy so many lives. But he’d help them if he could. He’d honor his mother’s memory.
Standing straighter than he had stood in five years, Dev led Bluescale through a too-familiar hatchway.
“Are you awake, small thing?”
Dev blinked. He lay on a warm, nubbly deck near a pair of massive, clawed hind feet. He knew that whistling song and the scent of that breath. A narrow-faced blue head bent close to him. He felt pristine and fresh, like a hatchling emerged from its egg.
“I have healed you,” said …? Dev struggled to remember the name. “Welcome back to full joy.”
Dev reached up and wrapped his arms around … around … Bluescale! … and squeezed embarrassing moisture out of his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“You have only the thoughts, emotions, and memories that will strengthen you. None of the overburdening clutter that complicates life for your masters.” Bluescale crossed slender forearms over his chest.
Dev inhaled deeply and gladly. “I feel so clean.” He couldn’t remember how Bluescale did this. He never could remember. Obviously, then, that memory wouldn’t have helped him continue his life of selfless service. Anything that gave someone this much peace had to be right. Anyone who gave it must be wholly good. It must be long, hard work.
Master Firwirrung waited outside Bluescale’s chamber, muscular tail flicking anxiously. Dev cringed at the concern narrowing his warm black eyes. Evidently Firwirrung had worried for him. That made him guess something evil had been cleansed away. “I’m much better, Master,” Dev volunteered. “I’ve thanked our dear Elder. Thank you, too.”
Firwirrung touched his left shoulder with his right foreclaw and bobbed his great head, scent tongues extended. “You are welcome,” he answered.
“Now we will go to Admiral Ivpikkis,” sang Bluescale.
Yes, the mission! He remembered that, now, too: a supreme privilege for the sake of the Ssi-ruuvi Imperium. Dev walked between the elder and his master with his head bowed and clawless hands clasped. He had white eyes, furred skin, and a small stinking tailless body. Who was he to deserve such effort on their part, such happiness in service, such important life work?
Jangling noises jostled Luke out of a fitful doze. A light blinked at his bedside, but other than that the room remained dark. “What?” he asked drowsily. There’d been a macabre nightmare … no, a warning. “What is it?”
“Commander Skywalker?” spoke a male voice out of his bedside console. “Are you awake?”
“Getting there,” he answered. “What’s wrong?”
“This is Salis D’aar Spaceport Authority. There’s been a disturbance with some of your, uh, troops. We have several speeders at the Bakur complex for official use. How quickly could you get to the roof port?”
Could this be a trap? Did it have anything to do with the dream warning? He jumped out of the warm, comfortable bed. At least he felt rested, and his aches had left him. “I’m on my way.”
He dressed hastily and decided to wake Chewbacca and take him along. Chewie wouldn’t need to waste time getting dressed, and he’d be extra eyes, brain, and especially muscle.