Skywalker's Legacy, page 161
Chapter Twenty
Once they had landed on Coruscant, and medical personnel had taken over the care of the still-blind senators, Luke went looking for his daughter.
She and Rupert were in the process of finishing a damage inspection on the Falcon when they saw him coming.
"Great," Brenna muttered.
"I'll take the heat," Rupert told her.
"No," Brenna said, holding up a staying hand. "I can handle it."
She walked to meet her father with her head held high, not even knowing that Rupert was behind her until she heard his voice saying. "It was my ship, sir, and I captained her the way I saw fit."
Luke fixed him with ice-blue eyes. "Then you're an idiot."
Brenna was about to second the motion when she noticed Han approaching. She was annoyed at Rupert for butting in when she had specifically told him to stay out, and decided to return the favor. "But it was my idea!" she called out, loud enough for Han to hear.
Han paid no attention. He gave his son a bear-hug, which was readily returned.
Luke's back was to Rupert and Han. He didn't see the hug. "Brenna---" Luke said.
She looked from Han and Rupert to her father, who had offered her no such tokens of affection, then began to walk away.
He hurried to catch up with her. "All I want to know is why."
Brenna didn't slow her pace. "I figured the Star Destroyer should be on our side rather than Etan Lippa's. It would have been, too, if you and your friend hadn't gotten involved. Don't you think we could have used a Star Destroyer?"
"Not at the cost of your life!"
"Rupert and I were perfectly safe...until the shuttle got involved, anyway. And even then, the danger was minimal."
"Minimal?" Luke echoed in disbelief. "You could have been killed!"
"Hardly. Etan Lippa blew up his own Star Destroyer rather than risk my getting hurt."
"He blew it up?"
"Did I stutter?"
"Then he really does want you alive."
"Duh!" Brenna responded, still moving.
"Why? Why would he let you go free? Why would he blow up a Star Destroyer rather than let you crash?"
"He wants me to be his girlfriend," Brenna said cheerfully. "I can't do that if I'm dead."
Luke stared at her, then caught her arm to stop her. "What...was your response?"
"Really, Dad, I should think my answer would be obvious. But he seems to think that he can convince me to change my mind, and as long as he thinks that, I'm perfectly safe." She pulled away and started to resume walking.
"Brenna---"
She looked back, and saw him open his arms and take a step towards her, offering her the hug that Rupert's father had given him straightway.
Brenna turned, and strode away.
Brenna woke early, pulled on the white bathrobe her aunt Leia had provided along with the suite, and went into the living area. Artoo watched silently from his place in the corner.
Her father wasn't up yet, but there was already a message on the recorder. The red light blinked on and off one time, paused, and blinked again. One message. It had been recorded during the night, but the sender had deactivated the "alert" function, and so the mail had been received silently.
"Computer, play message," she said.
Rupert's face appeared on the screen. Smiling.
Hell, she'd be smiling, too, if she were in his shoes. He'd gotten his mother back, retrieved the other senators, and he was going to be trained.
"Good morning," Rupert said. "Didn't want to wake either of you, and I don't know what time you get up, so I'm recording this. Luke, I'm at your disposal. Brenna, I'd like to show you some of my homeworld, after seeing some of yours. If you've got nothing better to do, this afternoon would be good, unless something comes up. You know where to find me. Don't be afraid of calling too early, or too late. Or if you don't like tours, there's always the hover-rink. Or anything else you want to do. Please say 'yes.' I'd really like to go out with you again." That was the end of the message.
Brenna sighed. "Computer, rewind message."
The message was instantaneously rewound.
"Computer, replay message until stop."
Rupert's smiling face appeared again. "Good morning. Didn't want to wake either of you, so I'm recording this. Luke, I'm at your disposal---"
"Stop." Brenna said.
The message froze.
"Computer, delete rest of message. No reply. Reset and rewind."
The red light blinked dutifully once again. Brenna left the part of the message intended for her father intact, but saw no reason to leave her private messages on display for him. Not that it mattered. She had no intention of going out with Rupert again. She didn't even feel like sending him a reply. He'd get the hint sooner or later.
And she was all too well aware of what the "something" that might come up to cancel the plans would be. If her father wanted to start training him today, then he'd dump everything else, including her, to be available. Not that she blamed him. In his position, she'd do the same thing, in a nano-second.
She went into the dinette area, not because she was hungry, but because she didn't have anyplace else to go.
Artoo followed and moved to an out-of-the-way corner.
"Computer, do you have jalini fruit juice?" She might as well take advantage of the luxury of being in a five-star hotel while she could.
"Yes," came the mechanized reply.
"I'd like a glass of jalani fruit juice, please."
A glass dropped down into the food automaton holder, and a stream of pink liquid filled it. Brenna took the glass and sat down at the table.
"Computer, I'd like to hear some music. Kineesh-maj. Volume setting two. This room only, please."
"Selection titles?" asked the computer.
"Random play. Any available titles."
She was still sitting at the table, nursing the same glass of fruit juice, when Luke came in a half hour later, wearing a similar white bathrobe over his sleepwear.
Luke went to the food automaton and voiced in an order for a cup of coffee. A couple seconds later, he sat down at the table with his mug. Brenna drained her glass of fruit juice, which had remained untouched until then.
"Morning, Sweetheart," Luke said.
"'Morning." Brenna said, without much enthusiasm. "Computer, stop music."
"That's all right," Luke said. "I don't mind."
"I thought you didn't like Kineesh-maj."
"It's not my favorite by any means, but you were listening to it. Computer, resume play."
"Computer, stop play. I'm getting bored with it, anyway." She picked up her glass and put it in the reclaimer. She didn't tell her father about the message. If he hadn't already seen that there was a message waiting, she didn't feel obligated to inform him."
"I think I'll go to the Senate and watch the proceedings. Want to come with me?"
"Thanks, but I'm not much interested in politics." She paused for a moment, then turned to face him. "Can I go shopping?"
"Shopping?" Luke looked at her.
Brenna shrugged. "Most of my clothes were destroyed back on Tatooine."
"Oh. Yeah, I guess you can go shopping." He got up and went to the computer. He punched a few keys, and a credit voucher ejected from the slot. He went to the counter, set the card down, and slid it over to her. Then he sat back at the table.
"How much can I spend?"
Luke shrugged. "As much as you need to."
"Ooooh. Carte blanche. This could be fun."
Luke favored her with his most fatherly reproving expression. "Be reasonable about it. And take Artoo with you."
Artoo beeped as Brenna passed by a shop window filled with colorful outfits. Brenna sighed. "No, not there. Their stuff's too, uh, flashy."
Artoo whistled and beeped, and Brenna barely looked at the shop across the walkway. "No, too plain."
The 'droid made a short series of sounds.
"Something in between, of course. Not too flashy, not too plain."
Timing was going to be important, if she was going to ditch the 'droid. But the nice thing about 'droids was, they were so easy to fool. She saw a stop a little further down, and---glory be!---there was an outfitters right next to the transit stop. Brenna strode towards it and pretended to study the window. "Now that's more like it." As Artoo's visual sensor whirled to the display, Brenna glanced at the schedule posted for the public transport. About ten minutes until the next transport. How lucky could a girl get?
"Oh, yeah," Brenna muttered.
Artoo looked up at her and beeped a query. The style didn't exactly fit what its memory thought she liked. She smiled down at the 'droid. "Perfect."
Artoo followed her inside. Brenna looked around. Actually, some of the stuff wasn't too bad, different from the kinds of things you could get on Tatooine, and she did have a little under ten minutes to kill. She gravitated towards a display of scarves. Artoo whistled.
"No, no, no." she told him. "First, you buy the accessories, and then you buy the outfit to match." One of the scarves caught her attention, and she looked at the price. Not exactly cheap, but what the Hell. She had carte blanche. She inserted her card into the reader attached to the scarf, and it was hers. She draped it around her neck, and then spent seven and a half minutes pretending to look at other things as Artoo followed her around. Then she picked a pants suit that was three sizes too large, pulled it off the rack, and showed it to the 'droid. "See if you can find this in my size, would you?"
Artoo beeped and rolled off towards the racks that were Brenna's size. Brenna strolled towards a rack that was closer to the door. Artoo whistled and held up the requested outfit in the requested size.
"Uh, you know what?" Brenna said, holding up the first thing her hand touched. "I don't think I like it, after all. See if you can find this one, will you?"
As Artoo patiently returned to its task, Brenna glanced at her watch, then strode out the store to the transport stop. It arrived a few seconds after she did, and she stepped aboard. In answer to the computer voice question, she replied, "Main Station." From there, she should have easy access to anywhere she wanted to go. The mechanical voice asked for payment, and she inserted her card.
At the main station, she made an inquiry, and took another transport from there to the Hall of Records, the only place she really wanted to visit on Coruscant.
If she were still under-age, she wouldn't be able to view the records, if they were even here. But she had to check it out. If what Etan Lippa had said was true...
"May I help you?" asked the receptionist at the desk. Human, not 'droid. That could be either good or bad.
"Uh, I hope so," Brenna said. "I think I was born here, on Coruscant. I'd, uh, like to see my birth record."
"Do you know your birth name?"
"First name Brenna. Last name Skywalker."
"Please place your palm on the reader."
Brenna touched her hand on the reader, and the human smiled. "It will just be a few minutes while the computer searches the records."
Brenna nodded, and took a seat across from the receptionist.
It took longer than a few minutes. Brenna tried to control her impatience, but her toes tapped impatiently inside her boots. After about ten minutes, the receptionist favored Brenna with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Miss, but we have no record matching your palm print with the last name Skywalker."
Brenna nodded, relieved, and stood up to leave.
"That's why it took us so long to find it."
Brenna stopped in her tracks. "You have a match?"
"We do, indeed. There's a charge of thirteen-two credits, if you'd like to view the record."
The fact that she'd be allowed to see it meant that she had reached her majority, after all. Brenna handed over the credit card. The woman scanned it, then returned it to her. "Right this way," she smiled and held an arm towards a doorway. It was moments like this that made her job worthwhile, helping orphans find their identities.
Brenna followed her to a carrel. The receptionist entered a code into the keypad, and the screen glowed to life. Brenna thanked her and then turned her attention to the screen.
The first thing she looked for was her mother's name. "Briande Brellis," she murmured. "Unmarried." That was odd. Her father had referred to her mother as his 'wife.' No, wait. He had said that they had lived 'as' husband and wife, not that they 'were' husband and wife. Semantics.
Brenna scanned the rest of the record. Briande Brellis gave birth to one live female child on---her eyes locked on the date. Etan Lippa was right. Her father had lied to her even about that! A little further down, the child's name was listed as "Brenna." Well, no surprise there. The father's name---not listed. Interesting. That explained why the name 'Skywalker' was not connected to the record.
Brenna returned to the beginning of the document and read it all the way through carefully, but there was nothing else to learn. She went back to the receptionist.
"Can I get a copy of that record?"
"Twenty credits."
Brenna handed over the credit card and was given a tiny disk in return.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course. That's why I'm here."
"How secure are these records?"
"What do you mean?"
"Is there any way to, uh, falsify them? For example, if, um, Senator Organa-Solo herself wanted to hide or suppress something, would she be able to do it?"
The receptionist smiled reassuringly. "What we have here for public view are copies only. The originals are stored in a vault which is accessible only by the record 'droids, which are sealed inside. All the equipment is read-only. If there's ever any question, one can always ask for the original to be re-transmitted. Even Mon Mothma herself couldn't alter the originals."
"Good." Brenna murmured. She thought for a second, then asked, "Where do I go to get work papers?"
"Right here. Twenty credits."
"Palm print again, to match me with my birth record?"
"Yes. But if you want, for an additional thirteen-two credits, we can also include a genetic record match."
"I want," Brenna told her.
Reese Draylin, captain of the ore ship Miner's Lady, escorted his newest employee to the small compartment that served as a crew lounge. She was young, younger than he liked for crew members, but just the right age for other things. Plus, she was desperate to get off-world, and desperate people came cheap.
The other nice thing about desperate crew members was that if one could find the cause of their desperation, one might have a useful tool for blackmail. It could net a tidy little profit from either the employee or the ones that wanted him/her, or keep a cheap worker cheap, or convince a tempting morsel like this one that the best way to keep his mouth shut was to keep other parts of him busy. He liked 'em desperate. The more desperate the better.
She'd hired on as a mechanic, for a ridiculously low wage. The only stipulations she'd made in her contract were that she could break off the contract at any port of call, and that she had private sleeping quarters with a door she could lock. Well, he had a closet he could stick her in, at least for the time being. Contracts could be changed, renegotiated, and if she could break it off at any port of call, so could he. The mines were harsh, unfriendly places, and given the choice between being stranded or renegotiating a few extra "duties," he figured she had enough sense to know where her best interests lay---if it even took that long. His crew was not exactly as well-mannered as that of a passenger transport. He'd bet money that she'd be coming to him for protection before the day was out. Besides, whatever else she was, she was a half-decent mechanic, and he could use her technical skills. She'd fixed a faulty servo as her "interview," and he might have hired her based on that alone, even without her good looks.
Draylin pointed to the tiny compartment where four of the five other crew members were sitting. "Go introduce yourself," he told her, "and strap yourself in. We're lifting off as soon as we get clearance."
Brenna stowed her satchel in an empty bin and hooked the netting across it. Then she adjusted the scarf around her neck and went to the couch where one of the crewmen had slid over to make room for her. There were three other men besides the one who had made room for her, one other woman, all of them expressionless except the one that had slid over for her, and he eyed her with a leer.
Despite the shapeless mechanics jump suit, the crewman could see that the new employee had a nice figure.
Brenna gave her crewmates a cursory glance. She'd hoped to find an ally in the woman, at least, but there was none. Her sagging features were as unfriendly and uncaring as the men's. Brenna was careful to keep her own face neutral. Nor did she address any crewmate in particular. "Brenna," she said. "Mechanic." She knew enough about the kind of people she was hooking up with not to say more.
The crewman who had slid over now slid back next to her, until his thigh was touching hers. Brenna knew she was going to have to do something about him. She was armed, but wasn't sure she wanted to reveal that fact yet. Just in case, her opposite hand slid down to her boot top. In the meantime, she favored the crewman with a "hands off" expression.
He grinned and put his hand on the top of her thigh.
That made Brenna's mind up for her. She left the knife where it was and instead covered his hand with her near hand, then quickly brought up her other hand to grab his wrist to apply leverage, and bent his hand backwards in a simple submission hold her father had taught her years ago. She bent the wrist almost to the point of breaking it, causing the crewman to gasp. Then she stood up, forcing him to a prone position on the couch.
"Let me clarify what I said earlier, she said, looking at the crewman, and at the other crew members as well. "My name is Brenna. Brenna Brellis. Perhaps you've heard of the name. If not, I suggest you look up Croyus Four in your history libraries. If you have them. I was named after the administrator there. I'm a mechanic. I fix things, not people. People, I break." She emphasized each point by applying a little more pressure, and the crewman with the roaming hands cried out with each application. "Any questions?"
The crewman who had touched her rapidly shook his head no. He had no questions. He understood perfectly. Brenna released her hold on him, and he quickly slid back over, giving her plenty of room.
Brenna let out a mental sigh of relief, careful not to let it show on the outside, and sat back down. If they ganged up on her, she might have a little bit of a problem, but she could deal with it. She just didn't like messes. Blasters were out of the question, since they could cause serious damage to the ship whose thin hull was the only protection from the deadliness of space. But she had a small arsenal of close-range defensive weapons, including knives, stun pens, chemicals to temporarily blind an attacker, and others---many of which were invisible to weapon detection scanners for emergency purposes. Most were left over from her jaunt in Mos Eisley---so long ago now, it seemed---but a couple she had picked up earlier that day. She'd also bought two work jumpsuits, two tamper-proof locks for her cabin, some miscellaneous toiletries, and a toolkit. Nothing else. She intended to pay her father back every credit she'd rung up, and purposefully kept her charges to a minimum.
"Brenna?" Luke entered the suite holding a copy of the new constitution, along with a personalized message to Brenna from each of the senators they'd rescued.
"Bren?" he called again.
There was no answer. Luke went to the door to her bedroom and knocked on it. "Sweetheart? I have something for you."
There was still no response. Frowning, Luke pressed the button beside the door, and it slid open.
She wasn't there.
Artoo was, however.
He was sitting in the middle of the floor, motionless and silent. Deactivated.
Luke's frown lines deepened. He bent down and touched a switch. Instantly the little 'droid came to life. Lights went on, gears whirred, his dome spun, and whistles and beeps emitted from his sound processors.
"Take it easy," Luke murmured. 'Droids hated to be switched off, if 'droid emotion could be equated with 'hate.' "Where's Brenna?"
Artoo whistled a response that was not satisfactory.
"All right, then, do you have any idea where she might be?"
R2-D2 rocked back and forth on two legs, beeping and whistling.
Luke stared. "What do you mean you can't tell me?"
Artoo chirped.
"She knows your access code? How did she get hold of that?"
doooooo-whEEEt! Artoo answered.
"All right, all right. Did she change your registry while she was about it, or am I still your legal owner?"
Artoo beeped.
"Good. Then tell me, are there any conditions under which you can tell me Brenna's message?"
The answer Artoo gave almost made Luke smile. The nice things about 'droids was, they were so easy to fool.
"Artoo," said Luke. "what time is it?"
Artoo answered the correct time, to the nanosecond.
"No, Artoo. You're about three hours behind. The correct time is nineteen hundred thirty. Update. Code Delta Epsilon Beta Alpha Theta."
Artoo updated to the incorrect time.
"Now, Artoo, do you have a message for me?"
One of Artoo's lights glowed more brightly than the others, and the 'droid's dome spun so that the light was aimed towards the surface of the table next to him. A small, three-dimensional hologram took shape, a miniature version of Brenna.
"Dad," she said. "By the time you get this message, I'll be out of your hair. Don't worry, I won't forget my promise, and I know how to take care of myself. If you don't mind, I'll keep the credit card. You can cancel it, of course, but I thought it might come in handy in case of emergency. I'll pay you back as soon as I can. Tell Rupert that I would have liked to get to know him better." Here, she hesitated. "No, never mind. On second thought, don't tell him anything. I'm sure he'll make a good student." She hesitated again, then forced a smile. "Well, gotta go, or I'll miss my ride. Take care." She bent down to turn a switch, and the image dissolved into nothing.
Luke's eyes snapped from the tabletop to the 'droid like a dry twig. "How long ago was that message recorded? I mean, what time did you have when that message was recorded?"
Artoo whistled an answer.
His master bolted to a communications pad and stabbed in a number. Without hesitating, he punctuated it with the "Emergency Send" button.
"Come on, come on," he muttered, although the wait was only a couple of seconds before Leia's image came on the screen. "Luke, what's---"
He didn't wait for her to finish. "Leia, I need you to suspend any further spaceport departures."
"Are you out of your mind? I can't do that!"
"You're the only one who can! And I need you to do it right now!"
"Are you going to tell me why? I can't just stop all traffic without any reason."
"Brenna's on one of those ships. If you need more than that, say...you have reason to believe a young woman's been kidnapped. All right?"
Leia's expression changed to concern. "I'll see what I can do. Hold on." She pressed a button on her end, and the screen dissolved into a "standby" message.
Luke clenched his teeth impatiently as he waited for Leia to get back to him. He wished he had the astro-mech 'droid's ability to wait. Thinking of Artoo and waiting and time reminded him of something. "Oh, yeah. Artoo, I could have been wrong about the time. As soon as you're not busy with anything else, I want you to contact the central computer to find out the correct time, and run a self-diagnostic to make sure your internal clock is calibrated correctly. Oh, and by the way, your new access code is, uh, Alpha Lambda Phi Omega. Access may be gained on my voice-command only. Got it?"
Artoo whirred.
"Good."
The communications screen came back to life. "Luke," said his sister, "you owe me one enormously huge favor, which I now owe to the Minister of Transportation. All out-bound traffic has been stopped. How long I can keep it that way, I don't know."
"I'm about to owe you another enormously huge favor. I need to see the passenger lists and crew manifests for all departing ships, and I need them now."
"I'm on it."
"You!" Captain Draylin pointed to Brenna. "Come with me!"
Brenna dared not disobey the captain, not on her first trip, and especially when they hadn't even left port yet, but she didn't much like being singled out. "Should I bring a toolbox?" she asked. Maybe there was a mechanical reason for the delay.
"No. Your gear."
Brenna definitely didn't like this. Being told to bring her gear could only mean one thing. "My father found me?" she asked. She should never have recorded that holo, but it just hadn't felt right to go without leaving a message. But how could he have gotten it so quickly? She had used Artoo's access codes to make sure he wouldn't see it until well after she'd left, and had turned Artoo off, for good measure. She should have known that Luke Skywalker would be able to find out about the message and find a way to access it.
"Looks that way," Draylin answered. "You should have told me you were a minor."
"I signed up to work a mining ship, but I'm not underage. You saw my work papers. They're genuine. Would you like to see them again?"
"Not especially."
Brenna was running out of options. She stopped and pulled the scarf out from the top of her coveralls. "Captain---"
Draylin stopped, turned, and looked.
Brenna lowered the zipper a little, never taking her eyes off the captain. "Why don't you take another look at those documents. Verify them, if you like. They're genuine. I'm a legal adult, capable of making my own decisions. My father has no legal authority over me." Her hand pulled the zipper lower still, revealing more skin.
Reese Draylin was not immune. He gazed at the exposed flesh for a long moment before lifting his gaze to her face. "What kind of jail-bait are you?" he asked.
"I'm not any kind of jail-bait. I'm a legal adult. See for yourself. Genetic confirmation by the Hall of Records, and everything." She reached into her pocket, pulled out the disk, and held it out to him, eyes never leaving his.
Captain Draylin smiled and took the disk, then bent his head down, wrapped his fingers in her hair to pull her head back, and kissed her. Brenna closed her eyes and tried to imagine he was somebody else. Anybody else. Rupert, maybe. But the miner's mouth was hard and demanding, not seeking for permission or response, as Rupert's had been. But Brenna was a good actress, and she was willing to do anything---anything!---to get offworld and away from her father. She gave Draylin back a little of what he wanted, returning just enough to give him the promise of more, and let him break it off first.
Reese Draylin smiled again. "Well, maybe it will be worth a few minutes to check this out, after all."
"Why don't you?" Brenna encouraged, answering his smile with one of her own.
"Wait here." Draylin released his hold on her hair and went forward to the next compartment. When he was gone, Brenna closed her eyes, let out a deep breath, and leaned against the bulkhead.
And she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
Luke began to grow concerned when the captain of Miner's Lady didn't immediately produce Brenna. And when the miner did return, he was alone. Brenna wasn't with him. The fact that Reese Draylin was smiling didn't help matters any.
Draylin had a portable computer in his right hand and turned it to show Luke the screen. "I just had her work-permit verified. Brenna Brellis, my new mechanic, is legally an adult."
Luke didn't let a hint of any emotion register on her face. "Oh, did I say she was a minor? Silly me, I meant to say she was wanted by the police."
Reese Draylin's expression and tone made it clear that he wasn't fooled. "Wanted for what?"
"Oh, I'll think of something. Theft, probably." He tsked and shook his head. "Kids, these days. You just can't trust 'em. Stole my credit card, just this morning, as a matter of fact."
Reese Draylin didn't flinch. "No one's going to buy that story. Why don't we just take a walk to the nearest public authority's office, and get the whole thing straightened out?"
Luke's smile was that of a predator just before he pounced on his prey. "We could do that," he agreed, "But, you know, these things sometimes take time. Days, weeks, maybe even months. And in the meanwhile, I imagine that your ship will probably have to be impounded. They'll probably have to do an audit of all your records, background checks on every crew member or passenger that's ever set foot inside---I'll bet they'll even want manifests from as far back as ten years ago."
"You can't do that," Reese Draylin said.
"No? Have you tried lifting off recently? As a matter of fact, I think every ship on this planet was grounded until I found that the one I wanted was yours. I'll bet I can keep you here for a very, very, very long time."
Reese Draylin knew where his best interests lay. "Just a minute," he said.
"Take all the time you want," Luke replied, still smiling his venomous smile. "I've got no place else to go."
Brenna painted on a smile when Reese Draylin came back to where he'd left her. "Is he gone?"
"Maybe." The miner stood close to her, and his hand started to slide inside her jumpsuit.
Brenna caught his wrist and pulled his hand out.
"You don't get any more until we're off-world," she told him. "After that, if you don't like what I have to offer, you can always turn around and bring me back."
Reese Draylin shrugged and withdrew his hand. "In that case, get off my ship."
Brenna's expression darkened. "You're giving me over?"
"He says you're wanted by the police."
"If my father has any documents to that effect, they're falsified, illegal forgeries."
Reese Draylin shrugged again. "Whatever. You're just not worth the trouble of keeping."
Brenna quickly redid the top of her jumpsuit and threw the scarf back around her neck. "I guess you'll never know, will you?" she retorted.
"Guess not." He grabbed her by the hair with one hand, picked up her satchel with the other, and hauled her to the gangplank. There, he unceremoniously tossed her bag to the ground below, and gave her a shove down the ramp.
Luke caught her, but she quickly pulled away from him.
"I assume I can take off now?" Reese Draylin asked.
"Have a good flight," Luke replied, with a wave.
"Hey, Jail-bait!" Reese Draylin called.
Brenna looked up. He tossed the disk with her work-permit to her, and she caught it.
"Maybe next time, Baby," he said.
"Yeah, maybe," Brenna retorted. "Maybe not!" She shoved the disk deep into her pocket and marched away as Draylin strode back inside his ship. Brenna picked up her satchel and kept going, not waiting for her father.
Luke spoke a brief message into his wrist band, to release the hold he'd put on traffic control, then caught up to his daughter. "What the Hell were you doing back there?"
She didn't pause or slow down. "Trying to get a job. Thank you so much for ruining it for me."
Luke ignored the sarcasm. "What, in the mines?"
"On the ship."
"With the likes of him? There's only one thing someone like him wants from someone like you."
"He needed a mechanic. I wouldn't have had to offer anything more, if you hadn't come spoiling everything. Even then, it would have been a small enough price to pay for passage offworld. Now I'm stuck here until I can find something else."
"Brenna, do you have any idea what could happen to you on a ship like that?"
"I can take care of myself, thank you. You taught me how, in case you've forgotten. And by the way, when were you planning to tell me that I became a legal adult two weeks ago, and that I no longer have to remain in your custody?"
Luke's face was grim. "I'm only trying to protect you."
"I don't want your protection. I want to get the Hell out of here."
That obvious fact finally began to register with Luke, and he stopped, pulling her arm to draw her to a halt with him. "Why?"
Brenna spun around to face him, and Luke was caught off guard by the overwhelming wave of anger, and frustration, and resentment that emanated from her in the Force.
"Why?" She looked at him, and her eyes, her face, her entire being was anguished. "Do you think I want to stick around and watch you train Rupert? I mean, I understand your not training me, I really do. But if I stay any longer, it'll kill me. If I leave, I might even be able to keep my promise about not using the Force."
For the first time, Luke finally realized the pain Brenna was feeling. He could see it in her face, hear it in her voice, and even feel it in the Force. It was a pain as real as any torture Etan Lippa had inflicted on the Jedi in the trophy room, but it was Brenna who was feeling it. And for the first time, Luke understood that Brenna was fully cognizant of what could and probably would happen to her on a ship like Miner's Lady.
Something behind Luke suddenly caught Brenna's attention, and without saying another word, she walked towards it quickly. Luke turned to see what she had seen, and realized she was headed for a spaceport security 'droid.
"Officer!" Brenna called, raising her arm.
Luke caught up to her and pulled her arm back down. "What are you doing?"
"I'm turning myself in," Brenna replied as the 'droid started crossing towards them. "If I really am wanted, they'll throw me in jail. If not, I'll get a restraining order against you and then jump planet. Either way, I get away from you."
She was perfectly serious. The 'droid was almost upon them. Luke had just one chance to keep her from doing something incredibly stupid. "What about an alternative?"
"I don't see any alternatives," Brenna said.
The 'droid rolled up. "Is there a problem?" it asked in a monotone mechanical voice.
"No problem," Luke said. Then to his daughter, "What about the Academy?"
The 'droid did not give up easily. It was programmed to respond to what looked like an argument taking place between two individuals, one of whom had signaled to get his attention. "I must legally inform you that my visual and auditory sensors are monitored by human security personnel."
"What about it?" Brenna asked, ignoring the 'droid.
Luke ignored it, too. "Other students your own age, no Captain Draylins, you even have one friend there already in Lucy. Paradise, compared to a mining ship."
The 'droid interrupted. "Human security personnel are enroute to this location."
Brenna paid no attention. "By the time I filed an application and they processed it, it'd be six months before I got in, minimum. I can't wait that long."
Luke spoke into his wrist communicator. "Call off the security 'droid in, uh," he looked around for a marker, "sector HT-12, will you? I'd like a little privacy." A little privacy to talk about something illegal, he added silently. He waited for the 'droid to roll away.
"My, my," Brenna commented. "Even the security 'droids obey your every command. I wonder what would happen if I started screaming."
"Don't try it until you've heard me out."
"Talk fast."
"All right. I think I can pull a few strings to speed up the application process to get you into the Academy. The next semester starts in two weeks. Surely you can wait that long."
"Two weeks?" Brenna said doubtfully, certain that her father was up to something.
"Two weeks. You can use the time to shop for the things you'll need and choose a major."
"What about the money? The Academy isn't free."
"In case you haven't noticed," Luke said dryly, "your aunt is rich. Besides, I have a savings account set up for you that should more than cover tuition and expenses. Even guaco beans bring in some profit, you know."
"So we're not really as poor as you've led me to believe all this time?"
"No," Luke admitted.
Brenna let out a breath of disbelief and turned away. "And I stuck it out on Tatooine because I felt sorry for you? I can't believe I did that! If I had known you didn't really need me to help with the crops, I'd have lit out years ago, work permit or not!"
"Brenna---"
"No!" She turned back and stabbed a forefinger through the air in his direction. "Don't say anything else. I'll stick it out for two weeks, but not a minute longer. I don't care about the major. You pick it. But in two weeks, if I'm not out of here and away from you, then believe me, I'll find some other way off this planet---even if the next captain isn't as nice as Draylin was. In the meantime, I want someplace else to stay, where I don't have to see you, or Rupert, or talk with you, or anything."
She strode purposefully to the security 'droid without waiting for his response. "May I help you?" it asked.
Brenna nodded. "Yes. I need a place to stay. For two weeks. Can you recommend something?"