Star Wars the Truce at Bakura - Kathy Tyers [8]
A cloud-frosted blue world appeared on the screen. “Bakura,” said a bland, mature female voice. “Imperial Study Survey six-oh-seven-seven-four.” Cloud cover swirled closer. Luke’s vision dropped through it to hover over a vast range of green mountains. Through a deep valley, two broad parallel rivers cut the mountains and wound down to a verdant delta. Luke imagined rich, damp smells, like on Endor. “Salis D’aar, capital city, is the seat of Imperial governorship. Bakuran contributions to Imperial security include a modest flow of strategic metals.…”
So green. So wet. Luke shut his eyes. His head sank.
… He sprawled on the deck of a strange spaceship. A huge reptilian alien, brown-scaled with a blunt, oversize head, tromped toward him waving a weapon. Luke ignited his lightsaber. Heavy with the Emperor’s fingerprints, it slid through his grip. Then he recognized the big lizard’s “weapon”: a restraining-bolt Owner, used to control droids. Laughing, he leaped into fighting stance. The lizard’s Owner whirred. Luke froze in place.
“What?” Disbelieving, he looked down. He had a droid’s stiff-jointed body. Again the alien raised its Owner device.…
Luke fought back to consciousness. He felt a powerful presence in the Force and sat up too quickly. Invisible hammers bashed both sides of his head.
The screen stood dark. On the foot of his flotation bed sat Ben Kenobi, robed as usual in unbleached homespun, shimmering under the cabin’s faint night glims. “Obi-wan?” Luke murmured. “What’s happening at Bakura?”
Ionized air danced around the figure. “You are going to Bakura,” it answered.
“Is it that bad?” Luke asked bluntly, not really expecting an answer. Ben rarely gave them. He seemed to come mostly to reprimand Luke, like a teacher who could not give up hounding his student after graduation (not that Ben had stayed around to finish his training).
Obi-wan shifted on the bed, but the bed didn’t shift with him. The manifestation wasn’t literally physical. “Emperor Palpatine achieved first contact with the aliens attacking Bakura,” said the apparition, “during one of his Force meditations. He offered them a deal, one that can no longer be honored.”
“What kind of deal?” Luke asked quietly. “What danger are the Bakurans in?”
“You must go.” Ben still didn’t hear Luke’s questions. “If you do not attend to the matter—personally, Luke—Bakura—and all worlds, both Allied and Imperial—will know a far greater disaster than you can imagine.”
Then it was as serious as they feared. Luke shook his head. “I need to know more. I can’t rush in blindly, and besides, I’m—”
Shimmering air brightened and rushed inward, stirring faint air currents as the image vanished.
Luke groaned. Somehow he’d have to persuade the medical committee to release him, and then convince Admiral Ackbar to give him the assignment. He would promise to rest and heal himself in hyperspace, if he could figure out how. Suddenly the notion of battle no longer excited him at all.
He shut his eyes and sighed. Master Yoda would be pleased.
“Artoo,” he said, “call Admiral Ackbar.”
Artoo burbled.
“I know it’s late. Apologize for waking him. Tell him …” He glanced around. “Tell him if he doesn’t care to come to the clinic lounge, we can set something up in the war room.”
“So, you see …” Luke glanced up. The clinic lounge’s door slid open. Han and Leia paused in the hatchway, then squeezed in between General Madine—who stood nearby—and Mon Mothma, seated on a stasis unit.
“ ’Scuse us,” Han grunted. Too-Onebee had approved the conference, provided Luke didn’t leave the medical suite. This crowded little lounge, spotless white like the rest of the suite, doubled as interim storage for cold stasis units. Mon Mothma’s “seat” held a mortally wounded Ewok, who rested in suspended animation until the Alliance transported him to a fully equipped medical facility.
Han backed up against the bulkhead. Leia sat down beside Mon Mothma.
“Go on.” Admiral Ackbar’s projected image (in miniature) shone