Yoda by Dark Rendezvous (Sean Stewart)

Author:Dark Rendezvous (Sean Stewart) [Rendezvous, Dark]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Published: 2012-03-10T13:36:02+00:00

“Stars,” she murmured. “What happened to the soldiers? The ones who caught your family?”

“I don’t remember,” Solis said blandly.

Yeah, right, Scout thought. She gulped, wondering exactly how the rest of that story had gone. They started walking again, toward the food court, and she found herself eyeing the gouges and scuff marks on the droid’s metal body, wondering how many of them represented ordinary wear and tear, and how many more might have come from blasterfire, or needlers, or vibroblades.

“Fidelis still has a family, but other than that you’re pretty much the same?”

“Not at all. My family was killed more than two hundred standard years ago. If you had a twin sister-and you might, you know-how different might her life have already become from yours, in just a decade?”

“Two hundred years?” Scout said, goggling. “How old are you?”

“Younger than your artoo,” he said, with an uncomfortably penetrating glance.

Scout felt suitably quelled, and not a little uneasy. They came to the little circle of tables in the food court area. Whie, who was supposed to be off using the refresher, was instead sitting at a table with Fidelis, head down, listening intently.

“Hey!” Scout said. “What are you doing here?”

Whie jerked around with a guilty start.

“None of your business,” he said. “Talking. It’s allowed.”

“None of my business? Did I just hear that come out of Saint Whie’s mouth? It surely is my business if I catch you consorting with strangers and lying about it. Or have you forgotten who your real family is?” she said tight-lipped, jerking her head down at the concourse below, where Jai was laboriously counting out credits for their tickets to Vjun.

“From where I sit, it looks like we are consorting to the same degree,” Whie said, getting himself back under control. A funny sort of control, though: still angry and defensive.

As quick as Scout could be to take offense, something about the whole situation was so strange she couldn’t maintain the thread of her anger.

“What is up with you today?” she said, genuinely puzzled. “You’ve been weird all day. I didn’t mean to rattle your cage-to tell the truth, I didn’t even know you could get rattled. I was just surprised, that’s all. What’s going on?”

“You’re late,” Fidelis said to Solis.

The unpainted droid shrugged.

Late? Scout thought. Late for what?

A small platoon of armed Phindians in blue-and-white uniforms jogged into the food court carrying blaster rifles and grim expressions. The captain, a hard-faced Phindian with a rank badge on his shoulder, was the only one whose rifle was still slung on his back.

“Stay perfectly calm,” he announced to the staring diners. “I am Major Quecks, Phindar Spaceport SPCB. We have received a report of an extremely dangerous unlicensed droid onstation,” he said, looking at Fidelis. “Make, model, and serial number, please.”

“Master?” Fidelis said, looking to Whie. Whie goggled.

“Are you the owner of this droid?” the captain said sharply.

“Yes,” Fidelis said.

“No!” Whie said. “What is going on? Who are you?”

“Sentient Property Crime Bureau, Tactical Squad,” Solis remarked. “Carrying regulation blasters and neural-net erasers.

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