Star Wars the Truce at Bakura - Kathy Tyers [92]
“Oh, ho.” Eppie’s feet swung under her chair. “Our teachers have taught us a lot of wisdom down the years, but also a load of guff.” She pointed a bony finger. “You should judge that Jedi by what he does, not by rumors or morality tales. Tell him to come back and see me again, in any case.” Her head turned. “Go make a nice arrangement out of Gaeri’s flowers, Clis.”
The portly caregiver left the door. Eppie slapped a control that shut it.
“Eppie, you’re … you’re well!”
“You’re here to tell me about Orn, aren’t you?” The wall of her preoccupation thinned, and Gaeri glimpsed her fresh grief. Full realization hadn’t set in. Eppie was working while she could, the better to grieve later. “Thank you anyway, love. I heard. No one else thought to notify me, but I’ve been plugged in all morning.”
“But—”
“I haven’t watched the news for years, so you assumed I hadn’t heard? Be careful of your assumptions, Gaeriel.”
“But he … Orn …”
Eppie’s shoulders slumped, transforming her into a wizened old woman. “I’ll miss him, Gaeri. Bakura will miss him. Let the Imperials call it a cerebral hemorrhage, but I know he died for Bakura, as I should’ve.”
“Should’ve?”
“Confession is good for the soul, child. But I’m not ready to tell you everything. Some of it’s not for young Imperial ears.” She spun her repulsor chair and touched a work station control. A screen full of symbols translated itself into a news media picture. “Fires, and strikes, and running street battles in Salis D’aar. I wish I were eighty again.”
“Eppie, what did you do?”
“Only what that young man—excuse me, that terribly dangerous young Jedi—showed me to do. You’re a lot of good things, Gaeri, but reconsider your intolerance.”
Gaeriel gaped. “Then something was done to you?”
“I won’t burden you with my past. Let’s get on with the future.”
“Your past may be my future.”
Eppie’s keen blue eyes blinked at her. “I hope so. And I hope not.”
Gaeri reached out a hand. “You’re going to wear yourself out. Shouldn’t you lie down for a bit?”
Eppie shook her head. “I’ve missed years. Can’t waste minutes now. Bakura’s rising. I want to be in on it.”
Gaeriel steadied her hands against a tremor. “Rising?”
“Against Nereus, of course.”
“But we need Governor Nereus and his forces. We’re going to be invaded any minute. The Alliance talks about freedom, but Bakura was … was crippled by chaos. The Empire saved us from tragedy.”
“We will never be free from tragedy, Gaeriel. Each of us must be free to pursue her own tragedy.”
Gaeri crossed her ankles and stared. How could this lucid philosopher be the mind-sick woman she’d helped nurse since before she went off to Center?
“Even after a defeat,” Eppie murmured, “it’s possible to have a full and happy life. I wish Orn and I had realized …
“Anyway,” she exclaimed, drawing herself up, “there’s work to be done. Are you for me or against me?”
“What—what are you doing at that work station, Eppie?”
“Are you going to turn me in? Look at this!” She swiveled back around and tapped controls beneath the screen. One key brought up an image of flames rising near the Bakur complex. Another showed stormtroopers chasing down armed civilians. Automation, claimed another screen, had gone haywire at the repulsorlift coil production plant. “Salis D’aar is furious. Orn’s dead, your uncle arrested, the Rebel princess in custody. What are you going to do about it?”
“If we fight each other now, the Ssi-ruuk will have us piecemeal!”
“That’s why it can’t be done wrong. Those people on the streets are only the distraction. You and I, and a few others on the inside, will run the real rebellion. We could accomplish plenty before the aliens actually attacked.”
“They’re attacking in less than an hour. I’ve warned Governor Nereus. There’s no time.”
“No one ever told you that I used to be a circuitry guerrilla, did they?”
Gaeri gaped at the thought. How could she even consider collaborating