Star Wars_ Children of the Jedi - Barbara Hambly [155]
“Doesn’t seem to be hooked into the Will at all,” she commented.
“About time something went our way.”
“I warn you,” said Triv Pothman worriedly from the door, “I was never trained to run one of these things. And those readouts of the surface you’re getting aren’t making me feel any better about learning.”
“I’ll slave this shuttle to the other so Nichos can control them both.” Cray settled into the pilot’s chair, ran her hands through her hair with the old gesture of tucking aside stray tendrils—and winced a little at the touch of the sawed-off bristle—then called up the core program and began tapping instructions in. The gesture of tidying her hair filled Luke with an odd sense of relief, of gladness. Whatever she’d been through, its darkness in her was lightening. She was returning to herself.
“Nichos isn’t a hotshot jet jockey like Luke,” she went on, “but he can take both in even through that mess, if somebody on the ground can talk him down. A lot of the stabilization’s preprogrammed for the planet, of course. And believe me, when the main ship blows, there’ll be somebody out here to investigate.”
“Cray,” said Luke, “I need to talk to you about that.”
She didn’t so much as spare him a glance. “Later,” she said. “First let’s hear your plan for getting those Kitonaks down here and into a shuttle in something under two weeks.”
Outside there was a groaning clamor, a bellowing war cry. Luke and Cray, stumbling to the door of the lander, were just in time to see a Tusken Raider launch itself at Triv Pothman, swinging its gaffe stick in such a fashion as to present considerably more danger to itself than to the former stormtrooper. Nichos leaped over two intervening slumberers and caught the Tusken’s arm, pulling the weapon from its fumbling hand. Triv was saying, “Hey, hey, hey, my friend, just relax, okay? Have another little shot …”
The Raider accepted the silver cup half full of sugar water from the trooper’s hand, downed it in a gulp, and subsided once again to the floor.
“Master Luke …” Threepio appeared in the doorway of the hangar, followed by a half dozen fluffy white Talz.
“Great!” Luke scrambled down from the shuttlecraft, stumbling as his leg gave under him with a shocking blast of pain. Cray caught his arm and three of the Talz were immediately at his side, steadying him and crooning worriedly.
“Thank them,” said Luke, struggling to control his breath, to fight off the pain that threatened to blot his consciousness. “Thank you,” he added, speaking directly to the tall creatures, as Threepio produced a succession of hoons and hums. “Tell them that without their help I could not possibly hope to save all those here who need to be saved.”
Threepio relayed Luke’s message to the Talz, who replied with snufflings, hoots, and heavy, patting hugs. Then without further ado the Talz began to pick up Sand People and carry them out of the hold, heading for the lander on Deck 10.
“You know that even with my reprogramming that lander won’t do anything but head out a couple of kilometers and hang there,” Cray said, watching them go. “It can’t be steered.”
“That’ll do,” said Luke. “I’ll leave instructions with Triv and Threepio that nobody’s supposed to open the thing till it gets to Tatooine anyway.”
“You really think anybody’ll tow it to safety, once they know what’s inside?” She put one fist on her hip, turned to look at him sidelong, weary and bitter.
“I don’t know,” said Luke quietly. “If I make it out …” He hesitated. “Or if you make it out, please see to it that someone does.”
Her face softened with the wisp of a smile. “You never give up,” she said, “do you, Luke?”
He shook his head.
“Funny,” Cray said, as they walked up the ramp into the second shuttle. “You’d think that since we appeared in this sector