Heir to the Jedi (13 page)

“They object to approximations, basically. Asking for approximations instead of precision indicates a lack of faith in their abilities at best, and at worst could be construed as you calling them stupid.”

“Oh. I’m very glad you told me that. But like you said, I think keeping it simple would be best.” I was hoping she would define
simple
as addition or subtraction.

A tiny smile of amusement played at the corners of Leia’s mouth and she nodded. “Good.”

“It seems like the list of your talents never ends. Are you a mathematician, too? How do you know this?”

“I had to deal with Givin when I served in the Senate. I have a few equations memorized that you can use.”

“Okay, but after I use whatever you teach me, then Drusil is going to reply with an equation for me to solve, right? What do I do then?”

“Well, I suggest you solve it.”

“Come on, I can do some easy algebra in my head,
maybe
, but not differential equations!”

“That’s quite all right, Master Luke,” Threepio interjected. “The most likely answer will be three.”

“What? How can you know that?”

Threepio, already ramrod-straight, seemed to grow taller and more proud at the opportunity to be pedantic. “Over the years Givin have grown accustomed to the inability of other beings to greet them properly, so to be polite she will use an equation with the answer of three to follow her traditional greeting customs but spare both of you the embarrassment of your not knowing the answer. But if you want to impress her, you can ask for a
real
greeting and she will give you something random and much more difficult.”

“No, no, three’s good, I can deal with three.”

“Great. Let’s get started,” Leia said, and she painstakingly taught me and Nakari two different equations and their answers to use when we eventually met Drusil Bephorin. It was definitely not simple addition, and it took us several attempts to commit it all to memory.

When we were finished and finally ready to leave, Leia looked around the hangar, vaguely disappointed at what she saw. If I had to guess, she was searching for the
Millennium Falcon
and unhappy that Han and Chewie hadn’t snuck in somehow while she wasn’t looking. She was probably worried, as I was, that we’d never see them again. But she always kept fighting for the people she
could
see, the people she
could
save: Hers was the example we all followed. Her farewell was a brief hug and an enjoinder to remain safe, and as usual on such occasions, when we parted I managed a nod and nothing more, turning to board the ship before I said or did anything awkward.

We navigated a sneaky path out of Orto Plutonia to avoid the Imperial division I’d skirmished with earlier, and relaxed once we had a course plotted along well-traveled hyperspace lanes.

Nothing but numbing hours of blurred stars stretched before us, so I said, “Mind if I ask you something? I hope it’s not rude.”

Nakari didn’t turn her head, but she cocked an eyebrow, her
eyes sliding my way. “Well, if it
is
rude, you can be sure I’ll let you know.”

“Hope you’ll forgive me if so. But here’s the thing: People who are fairly well-to-do—as you and your father are—rarely get so upset with the current state of affairs that they decide things need to change. Because usually it’s the current state of affairs that made them rich, so, you know …”

“Why am I involved in the Rebellion?” Nakari finished.

“Exactly.”

She looked down, clenched her jaw, and tightened her good hand into a fist, then made an effort to relax and speak calmly. “The Empire killed my mother over a song.”

“What?”

“My mother was a songwriter and vocalist. She sang backup harmonies for a band.”

“Really? What band?”

“Don’t laugh, okay? The name wasn’t her idea. They were called Hakko Drazlip and the Tootle Froots.”

“The Tootle Froots?”

Nakari sighed with a note of impatience. “I know how ridiculous it sounds to tell people your mom was a Tootle Froot. I don’t even know what a Tootle Froot
is
, okay? But anyway, she wrote a political song for the group and they recorded it and it became their biggest hit. Thing is, it got them all sent to the spice mines of Kessel.”

“But that means she could still be alive?”

“No,” she said flatly. “This was ten years ago. There’s no hope she’s alive now.”

We both knew that life expectancy in the mines wasn’t above a year or two. “Oh. I’m sorry. I totally understand how that would spur you to do something.” I paused, wanting to know more but not wishing to pry. Curiosity eventually got the better of me. “That’s a pretty extreme reaction to a song on the Empire’s part, though. What was it—would I know it?”

“Depends on your access to declared contraband. It was called ‘Vader’s Many Prosthetic Parts.’ ”

“Hey, I do know that! Hilarious song! I didn’t know the band had been punished for it, though.”

“Oh, it happened quickly.” She gazed down into her lap, her voice soft. “Mere days after its release. Lord Vader has no sense of humor.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t seem like the type.” I paused a moment, still having trouble saying it. “He’s responsible for my father’s death.”

“So we have that in common.”

“Except you know what your mother did. I have no idea why my father deserved his betrayal.”

“I’m sure he didn’t deserve it any more than my mother did, Luke.”

“Thanks. And of course the Empire probably took a long hard look at your dad after the business with your mother.”

“They did. Kelen Biolabs has some Imperial contracts that we would love to burn up, but we can’t. My father can’t afford to be anything but accommodating to them. And that’s also why he can’t give money to the Alliance; the Empire has spies in his organization he has to pretend not to notice, and they are watching his finances closely. I don’t have such chains around my wrists, though. I’m free to oppose them.”

“Free to oppose them—that’s a good way to put it. I think lots of people oppose the Empire but don’t feel able to do more than secretly despise them. The Empire kind of set me free, too, I suppose. Though they did it in the worst way possible. They were trying to recover the stolen plans to the Death Star and killed my aunt and uncle. There was nothing left for me on Tatooine after that.”

Nakari finally turned to look at me, a crinkle between her eyes and her mouth turned down in a concerned frown. “What about your mother?”

“Died when I was an infant. My aunt and uncle raised me.”

“Were they the ones who told you about your father the Jedi?”

“They avoided that topic as much as possible. If I asked them about it they would change the subject. It went like this—this is an actual conversation, okay? I said, ‘Tell me something about my father, Uncle,’ and he had a coughing fit before answering, ‘He was concerned about the vaporators on the western slope, like me. Go out there and check them.’ It’s like they bought the Imperial line that the Jedi were dishonorable.”

“What if they were?”

“What?”

“I know the Empire is probably lying about them—don’t get me wrong. But what if there was a grain of truth to what the Empire says about the Jedi?”

“A grain of truth won’t change my desire to know everything. It’s difficult to find anything out since the Empire’s done what they can to wipe out all records of the Jedi. But that in itself tells you that the truth contradicts what the Empire wants us to believe: otherwise they’d leave it all accessible.”

Mock outrage plain in every word, Nakari said, “You mean you don’t think the suppression of information is for our own good? I am
shocked
, sir, shocked, I say!”

Matching her tone, I said, “Not only that, but I had serious doubts that the Death Star would have brought peace to the galaxy!”

Nakari laughed and then pointed at me with her right hand. “Seriously, Luke, there’s your answer. The Empire didn’t think of everything when they built the Death Star. And they didn’t succeed in getting rid of all knowledge concerning the Jedi, either. It’s a big galaxy. I’m sure they didn’t erase everything. There has to be something, or somebody, somewhere, that can help you learn whatever it is you want to learn.”

“Maybe.” I was going to leave it there, but then I realized I had a sympathetic ear and time to talk it through for once, so I continued. “I thought Ben Kenobi would teach me for a while. I’ve
never told anyone except Leia, but I heard his voice in my head after he died on the Death Star.”

Nakari turned sharply and watched me to see what further craziness would next spew forth—or perhaps I was misinterpreting her expression. Chances were I was on target, for people who claimed to hear voices in their head were rarely thought sane. I was beginning to have doubts on that score myself.

“Or at least I thought I did. In a way I suppose it doesn’t matter—whether it really was him or I was simply imagining it in some kind of stress hallucination during a battle, his advice helped. But after that, I got nothing. I don’t know if that means he doesn’t have anything to say or if he’s faded away or if I’m doing something wrong … maybe he’s lost interest in me.”

A teasing note crept into Nakari’s voice. “So you mean it
wasn’t
a voice in your head that told you to wave your hand at that Rodian and tell him to take you to Soonta after he’d just told you he wouldn’t? Because that would explain a lot.”

Heat flushed my face as I remembered my failure. “No. But I did see Ben do that to a stormtrooper once. He used the Force and somehow convinced the troops to let us pass.”

“Was that hand thing a part of it?”

“I don’t know. I just did it because he did it. He never explained how exactly it was done, and I was hoping to muddle through on luck and good intentions.”

“Tell you what. When we’re finished with this, I’ll help you find someone to teach you how to be a Jedi.”

“Really? I mean, thank you, but why would you want to do that?”

Her eyes flickered over me and her expression turned to something that my imagination would call flirtatious. But then she faced forward and shrugged a shoulder. “You’ve helped me with my ship. Least I can do.”

DENON IS AN ECUMENOPOLIS
like Coruscant, a vast city sprawling over all the landmass and dependent on imports for food and raw materials. Coming from a rural planet with a very scattered population, I wasn’t used to seeing an endless vista of buildings all lit up at night and ships buzzing around them like they were flowers to be pollinated. The planet did kind of seem that way, a field of stiff bright plants swarming with alien insects. Except it wasn’t nearly as peaceful as a field might be. The visual clutter was dizzying and even from orbit I imagined I could hear the constant throb of it pulsing in my bones.

Our coordinates led us to a rooftop berth on the edge of the Grammill district, which bordered the Lodos district where our target lay. Some arbitrary collection of streets formed the boundaries of Denon’s districts, which as far as I could tell were indistinguishable but might hold obvious differences to long-term residents. Our Kupohan contact, Sakhet, had assured Admiral
Ackbar that landing in an adjacent district to the target would aid our escape, since each district had its own security and we’d be able to take advantage of the small lag that resulted from any departmental coordination.

Our arrival shortly after sunset guaranteed an aerial slalom through rush-hour traffic as people in speeders and shuttles tried to get home or start the night shift or snag a dinner they didn’t have to cook for themselves. Leaving Artoo in our lodgings, we took a conservative droid taxi that was programmed for safety more than speed, and I didn’t mind its cautious progress since it gave me more time to appreciate the Lodos district at street level. Glowing signs for businesses were often presented in several alphabets in addition to Galactic Standard, many of them in letterforms that I didn’t recognize at all. Once down on the street we were buffeted by a cocktail of noises that ranged from pleasant music to shrill disagreement between a Neimoidian couple in matching gold robes. I felt a headache coming on and I didn’t know if it was from a bug I’d picked up earlier or overstimulation. I would put my credits on the latter.

Nakari and I joined a throng of beings coursing down a narrow alley of stalls selling trinkets and flavored ices and stim-sticks and all manner of goods that might be desirable but were strictly unnecessary. It broadened at one point to a miniature plaza anchored by a fountain in the middle. Aliens were sitting around the edge of it with food and drink purchased from nearby vendors. One of these on the northwest corner of the plaza sold noodles, and it was there we were supposed to make contact with the Kupohan spy, Sakhet.

“I don’t want to think about that nastiness we’re supposed to ask for,” Nakari said as we took places at the end of the long line. Obviously, Sakhet’s noodles were popular with the locals. “You order it.”

“What are you going to have?”

She perused the menu above the hut, hand-painted in Galactic
Standard and repeated in other alphabets. “Buckwheat noodles and nerf nuggets with onions.”