Star Wars_ Episode VI_ Return of the Jedi - James Kahn [70]
“Great. Now we have two doors to get through,” Leia muttered.
At that moment, she was hit in the arm by a laser bolt, and knocked to the ground.
Han rushed over to her. “Leia, no!” he cried, trying to stop the bleeding.
“Princess Leia, are you all right?” Threepio fretted.
“It’s not bad,” she shook her head. “It’s—”
“Hold it!” shouted a voice. “One move and you’re both dead!”
They froze, looked up. Two stormtroopers stood before them, weapons leveled, unwavering.
“Stand up,” one ordered. “Hands raised.”
Han and Leia looked at each other, fixed their gazes deep in each other’s eyes, swam there in the wells of their souls for a suspended, eternal moment, during which all was felt, understood, touched, shared.
Solo’s gaze was drawn down to Leia’s holster—she’d surreptitiously eased out her gun, and was holding it now at the ready. The action was hidden from the troopers, because Han was standing in front of Leia, half-blocking their view.
He looked again into her eyes, comprehending. With a last, heartfelt smile, he whispered, “I love you.”
“I know,” she answered simply.
Then the moment was over; and at an unspoken, instantaneous signal, Han whirled out of the line of fire as Leia blasted at the stormtroopers.
The air was filled with laser fire—a glinting orange-pink haze, like an electron storm, buffeted the area, sheared by intense flares.
As the smoke cleared, a giant Imperial Walker approached, stood before him, and stopped. Han looked up to see its laser cannons aimed directly in his face. He raised his arms, and took a tentative step forward. He wasn’t really sure what he was going to do. “Stay back,” he said quietly to Leia, measuring the distance to the machine, in his mind.
That was when the hatch on top of the Walker popped open and Chewbacca stuck his head out with an ingratiating smile.
“Ahr Rahr!” barked the Wookiee.
Solo could have kissed him. “Chewie! Get down here! She’s wounded!” He started forward to greet his partner, then stopped in mid-stride. “No, wait. I’ve got an idea.”
9
THE two space armadas, like their sea-bound counterparts of another time and galaxy, sat floating, ship to ship, trading broadsides with each other in point-blank confrontation.
Heroic, sometimes suicidal, maneuvers marked the day. A Rebel cruiser, its back alive with fires and explosions, limped into direct contact with an Imperial Star Destroyer before exploding completely—taking the Star Destroyer with it. Cargo ships loaded with charge were set on collision courses with fortress-vessels, their crews abandoning ships to fates that were uncertain, at best.
Lando, Wedge, Blue Leader, and Green Wing went in to take out one of the larger Destroyers—the Empire’s main communications ship. It had already been disabled by direct cannonade from the Rebel cruiser it had subsequently destroyed; but its damages were reparable—so the Rebels had to strike while it was still licking its wounds.
Lando’s squadron went in low—rock-throwing low—this prevented the Destroyer from using its bigger guns. It also made the fighters invisible until they were directly visualized.
“Increase power on the front deflector shields,” Lando radioed his group. “We’re going in.”
“I’m right with you,” answered Wedge. “Close up formations, team.”
They went into a high-speed power-dive, perpendicular to the long axis of the Imperial vessel—vertical drops were hard to track. Fifty feet from the surface, they pulled out at ninety degrees, and raced along the gunmetal hull, taking laserfire from every port.
“Starting attack run on the main power tree,” Lando advised.
“I copy,” answered Green Wing. “Moving into position.”
“Stay clear of their front batteries,” warned Blue Leader.
“It’s a heavy fire zone down there.”
“I’m in range.”
“She’s hurt bad on the left of the tower,” Wedge noted. “Concentrate on that side.”
“Right with you.”
Green Wing was hit. “I’m losing power!”
“Get clear, you’re going to blow!”
Green Wing took it down