Star Wars_ Episode VI_ Return of the Jedi - James Kahn [33]
“And I’m with you, too!” a voice was raised from the back of the room.
They all turned their heads to see Luke standing at the top of the stairs.
Cheers went up for the last of the Jedi.
And though it wasn’t his style, Han was unable to conceal his joy. “That’s three,” he smiled.
Leia ran up to Luke and hugged him warmly. She felt a special closeness to him all of a sudden, which she attributed to the gravity of the moment, the import of their mission. But then she sensed a change in him, too, a difference of substance that seemed to radiate from his very core—something that she alone could see.
“What is it, Luke?” she whispered. She suddenly wanted to hold him; she could not have said why.
“Nothing. I’ll tell you someday,” he murmured quietly. It was distinctly not nothing, though.
“All right,” she answered, not pushing. “I’ll wait.” She wondered. Maybe he was just dressed differently—that was probably it. Suited up all in black now—it made him look older. Older, that was it.
Han, Chewie, Lando, Wedge, and several others crowded around Luke all at once, with greetings and diverse sorts of hubbub. The assembly as a whole broke up into multiple such small groups. It was a time for last farewells and good graces.
Artoo beeped a singsong little observation to a somewhat less sanguine Threepio.
“I don’t think ‘exciting’ is the right word,” the golden droid answered. Being a translator in his master program, of course, Threepio was most concerned with locating the right word to describe the present situation.
The Millennium Falcon rested in the main docking bay of the Rebel Star Cruiser, getting loaded and serviced. Just beyond it sat the stolen Imperial shuttle, looking anomalous in the midst of all the Rebel X-wing fighters.
Chewie supervised the final transfer of weapons and supplies to the shuttle and oversaw the placement of the strike team. Han stood with Lando between the two ships, saying good-bye—for all they knew, forever.
“I mean it, take her!” Solo insisted, indicating the Falcon. “She’ll bring you luck. You know she’s the fastest ship in the whole fleet, now.” Han had really souped her up after winning her from Lando. She’d always been fast, but now she was much faster. And the modifications Solo added had really made the Falcon a part of him—he’d put his love and sweat into it. His spirit. So giving her to Lando now was truly Solo’s final transformation—as selfless a gift as he’d ever given.
And Lando understood. “Thanks, old buddy. I’ll take good care of her. You know I always flew her better than you did, anyway. She won’t get a scratch on her, with me at the stick.”
Solo looked warmly at the endearing rogue. “I’ve got your word—not a scratch.”
“Take off, you pirate—next thing you’ll have me putting down a security deposit.”
“See you soon, pal.”
They parted without their true feelings expressed aloud, as was the way between men of deeds in those times; each walked up the ramp into a different ship.
Han entered the cockpit of the Imperial shuttle as Luke was doing some fine tuning on a rear navigator panel. Chewbacca, in the copilot’s seat, was trying to figure out the Imperial controls. Han took the pilot’s chair, and Chewie growled grumpily about the design.
“Yeah, yeah,” Solo answered, “I don’t think the Empire designed it with a Wookiee in mind.”
Leia walked in from the hold, taking her seat near Luke. “We’re all set back there.”
“Rrrwfr,” said Chewie, hitting the first sequence of switches. He looked over at Solo, but Han was motionless, staring out the window at something. Chewie and Leia both followed his gaze to the object of his unyielding attention—the Millennium Falcon.
Leia gently nudged the pilot. “Hey, you awake up there?”
“I just got a funny feeling,” Han mused. “Like I’m not going to see her again.” He thought of the times she’d saved him with her speed, of the times he’d saved her with his cunning, or his touch. He thought of the universe they’d seen together, of the shelter she’d given him; of the way he knew her, inside and out. Of the times they’d slept