Star Wars the Truce at Bakura - Kathy Tyers [67]
“I should’ve guessed.” Gaeriel looked him up and down, then cocked an ear toward the open door.
He might yet win her, through Eppie. “If she tries what I showed her, she might seem to sleep for … well, days.”
“That might be a blessing.” Relaxing, Gaeri crossed her ankles under the table. “What did you need to talk with Orn about?”
Oh, blast. Commanding the Flurry was easier than admitting this. “Some of your people attacked some of mine at the spaceport this morning. Mine had Alliance aliens with them, and yours thought they were Ssi-ruuk. I suspect Governor Nereus found some Bakurans who like trouble, and tried to make some for them.”
He felt her suspicion. “Were there casualties?”
“Two Bakurans. Princess Leia is making a formal apology,” he added hastily. “I wish we could do more. It shouldn’t’ve happened.” He glanced out a broad window. The morning sun was turning brilliant, but he felt chilly. He’d been warned. Somewhere out there, the Ssi-ruuk would soon be looking for him. He didn’t think he was in any serious danger, but he still wasn’t certain why they wanted him. What was he doing here, endangering Gaeriel and Madam Belden? “If Senator Belden has any thoughts on the incident, please have him contact me.” He stood up. “I hope Madam Belden improves. What I sensed underneath her troubles …” He searched for words. “I think I would have liked her. She was a fighter, wasn’t she?”
Gaeriel’s left eyebrow arched.
Great. He’d reminded her of his Jedi abilities again. Staring at the floor didn’t help either, because her bare feet suggested a lighthearted spirit. Except when I’m around. “Thanks. I’d better leave.”
He glanced at Madam Belden on his way to the door. She hadn’t moved. Gaeriel slipped out into the drab hallway behind him. “Luke,” she murmured, “thank you for trying.”
“Luke”—she finally used my name. He hurried to the roof port with a lighter heart.
Leia caught herself bustling as she led Threepio through a guarded door arch in the Bakur complex’s old Corporation Wing. Artoo wheeled silently behind, and Han followed at rear guard. Reddish wood paneled Prime Minister Captison’s inner office. His massive desk had been sawed freeform out of the weathered burl of some rain forest giant. He sat near its center, where a flat space had been carved and polished, and he was frowning.
Was she that late? Abruptly she realized he was frowning at Threepio and Artoo, not at her. She brandished the restraining-bolt Owner to show Captison she had both droids under control. She’d also programmed Threepio not to speak until she rescinded the command. Asking him to keep quiet on his own just hadn’t seemed kind—or plausible. “I’m sorry to have been delayed,” she said.
Captison wasn’t a large man, but like Luke, he radiated assurance. “I hope you were able to take care of your personal problem.”
“Yes, thank you.”
He extended his hands toward two repulsor chairs. Han pushed one toward her, then took the other one. Sideways. I love you, Nerf Herder, Leia silently repeated as she sat down on the gently bobbing seat. “I must make a formal apology for the deaths this morning. May I contact the families of the fighters who were killed?”
One corner of Captison’s mouth twitched up as he watched Han. “I think that would be appreciated. Yes, I’ll arrange it for you. There has also been a reconfiguration of Ssi-ruuvi ships outside our defense web,” Captison added. “The web reconfigured to compensate. So much I hear from Commander Thanas, at any rate.”
Leia caught Han’s sidelong glance. “Does he report to you and Governor Nereus?” Han asked.
Captison shrugged. “I’ve asked him to. Seems the least he could do.”
Leia puffed out a breath. “Maybe you don’t know how unusual it is for an Imperial officer to pay the slightest attention to the