[Thrawn Trilogy] - 01(132)

“What exactly is it supposed to-aah!” The last of Luke’s air came out in an explosive burst as a searing pain lanced through his forearm.

“Perfect,” Mara said with grim satisfaction. “You’re allergic as anything to them. Oh, relax-the pain will be gone in a few seconds.”

“Oh, thanks,” Luke gritted back. The pain was indeed receding. “Right. Now, what about this-mmm!-this blasted itch?”

“That’ll hang on a little longer,” she said, gesturing at his arm. “But never mind that. What do you think?”

Luke gritted his teeth. The itching was not-so-subtle torture … but she was right. Where she’d brushed the leaf the skin had turned dark and puffy, sprinkled with tiny pustules. “Looks disgusting,” he said.

“Sure does,” she agreed. “You want to do it yourself, or you want me to do it for you?”

Luke gritted his teeth. This was not going to be pleasant. “I can do it.”

It was indeed unpleasant; but by the time he finished brushing his chin with the leaves the pain had already begun to recede from his forehead. “I hope I didn’t get it too close to my eyes,” he commented between clenched teeth, throwing the leaves away into the forest and fighting hard against the urge to dig into his face with both sets of fingernails. “It’d be handy to be able to see the rest of the afternoon.”

“I think you’ll be all right,” Mara assured him, studying the result. “The rest of your face is pretty horrendous, though. You won’t look anything like whatever pictures they have, that’s for sure.”

“Glad to hear it.” Luke took a deep breath and ran through the Jedi pain suppression exercises. Without the Force they weren’t all that effective, but they seemed to help a little. “How long will I look like this?”

“The puffiness should start going down in a few hours. It won’t be completely gone until tomorrow.”

“Good enough. We ready, then?”

“As ready as we’ll ever be.” Turning her back to Artoo, she took the travois handles and started walking. “Come on.”

They made good time, despite the lingering tenderness of Mara’s ankle and the distractions inherent in a faceful of itch. To Luke’s relief, the itching began to fade after about half an hour, leaving only puffy numbness behind it.

Mara’s ankle was another story, however, and as he walked behind her and Artoo he could see clearly how she was having to favor it. The added burden of Artoo’s travois wasn’t helping, and twice he almost suggested that they give up on the role switching. But he resisted the urge. It was their best chance of getting out of this, and they both knew it.

Besides which, she had far too much pride to agree.

They’d gone perhaps another kilometer, with the whine/drone of the speeder bikes rising and falling in the distance, when suddenly they were there.

There were two of them: biker scouts in glistening white armor, swooping up to them and braking to a halt almost before Luke’s ears had registered the sound of their approach. Which meant a very short ride, with target position already known.

Which meant that the entire search party must have had them located and vectored for at least the past few minutes. It was just as well, Luke reflected, that he hadn’t tried switching roles with Mara.

“Halt!” one of the scouts called unnecessarily as they hovered there, both swivel blaster cannons trained and ready. “Identify yourselves, in the name of the Empire.”

And it was performance time. “Boy, am I glad you showed up,” Luke called back, putting as much relief into his voice as the puffy cheeks allowed. “You don’t happen to have some sort of transport handy, do you? I’m about walked off my feet.”

There was just the slightest flicker of hesitation. “Identify yourself,” the scout repeated.

“My name’s Jade,” Luke told him. He gestured at Mara. “Got a gift here for Talon Karrde. I don’t suppose he sent some transport, did he?”

There was a short pause. The scouts conferring privately between themselves, Luke decided, or else calling back to base for instructions. The fact that the prisoner was a woman did indeed seem to have thrown them. Whether it would be enough, of course, was another question entirely.

“You’ll come with us,” the scout ordered. “Our officer wants to talk to you. You-woman-put the droid down and move away from it.”

“Fine with me,” Luke said as the second scout maneuvered his speeder bike to a position in front of Artoo’s travois. “But I want both of you to witness, for the record, that I had her fair and square before you showed up. Karrde weasels his way out of these capture fees too often; he’s not going to weasel out of this one.”