Star Wars the Truce at Bakura - Kathy Tyers [77]
“Try the other,” crooned Firwirrung.
Dev watched this time. Out of a groove in the bed protruded a flexible black arch. He eased his right ankle toward it—
Snap. That second catch activated another cycle he’d suggested. This one tipped the bed back twelve degrees. He relaxed and rode with it, arms crossed over his chest. As his torso touched another trip panel, a thicker restraint circled his waist. It held him down far more securely than the restraints on the old entechment chair.
“Beautiful.” Firwirrung swept closer and stroked the waistband with a foreclaw. “Is it firmly coupled?”
Dev tried to twist his body. “Yes. But loose enough that I’ve no trouble breathing.”
“The human form is so odd,” Firwirrung whistled merrily. Dev laughed with him. “Are you comfortable, Dev? We can only guess at his size.”
“Oh, yes.”
“Left hand, now.”
He laid out his left arm. Another broad restraint swung rapidly and firmly into place. Embedded in this one was a tangle of life-function sensor relays that his thin scaleless skin would not obstruct. Behind Firwirrung on a black bulkhead panel, pale lights started blinking. Firwirrung pivoted around and examined them. “Leave the right free,” he instructed.
How Dev wished he would really be enteched today. He envisioned the moment when he sparked to life behind eyes that would never close, but saw everything. Inside a new body that could do anything—and chose only to please its masters. Yesterday, they’d begun enteching immature and overage P’w’ecks off the other ships, preparing for the assault. Enteched P’w’ecks wouldn’t last as long as humans, but numbers were needed—briefly.
Firwirrung touched a red panel. Something stung the small of Dev’s back. “That works, too,” he called. That mechanism was also critical for long-term confinement, as was the upper-spine beamer. Now the procedure would not depend on disabling Skywalker’s nervous system first.
“Can you move your feet?”
Dev peered down. The angle of tilt held them off the gray deck tiles. “I can’t even feel them,” he announced happily.
“Good.” Firwirrung swept closer. “Ah, Dev.” He unhooked a clear tube from the bedside beside Dev’s left shoulder. “I know how badly you wish this were real. I am sorry to tease you this way.”
“My time will come.” Dev shut his eyes. He felt a little pressure at his throat, then a thrust that barely stung. He relaxed against the bed, savoring the sensation, while Firwirrung moved to the other side and repeated the motion. He wished, oh he wished …
Yet an undercurrent of fear lurked behind his longing. His right hand trembled against his chest.
Hearing a whoosh, he opened his eyes to see Bluescale and Admiral Ivpikkis stride in, followed by two P’w’ecks who dragged a limp human prisoner by his head and arms. Following Firwirrung’s new procedure, they had already prepared him with a paddle beamer. That was the one who’d actually be enteched. Dev tried again to wiggle his toes and felt nothing. Perfect. For that poor frightened human’s sake, he hoped he could do his part.
“Review for me,” demanded the admiral. “How will this differ from standard entechment?”
Firwirrung pressed foreclaws together in front of his chest. “We believe that a Force-talented individual will be able to draw energy from a distance—a short distance, in Dev’s case. If Dev is properly linked to catchment circuitry, the other subject’s energies will flow through him, but Dev will remain unenteched and will be able to repeat the procedure indefinitely.”
“Not like the … chair, then.” Ivpikkis glanced at it. Dev recalled how amused they’d been when he first described human furniture. P’w’ecks were enteched lying flat on the deck.
“No,” agreed Firwirrung. “The actual subject need not be caught. With Skywalker’s involvement, the subject will not even need to be within the range of a tractor beam—or so we hope.”
“But for convenience’s sake, we have caught and prepared this one. Is everything ready?” Bluescale’s scent tongues flicked