Star Wars_ Luke Skywalker and the Shadows of Mindor - Matthew Woodring Stover [33]
She also knew why: Han could no more leave a friend in danger than he could jump to lightspeed by flapping his arms. And she knew that he’d leave without telling her he was going, because he knew she was, in this respect, no different than he was, and he still had this profoundly silly masculine notion that he could somehow keep her from danger just by leaving her behind. Just how profoundly silly this masculine notion was she planned to demonstrate graphically as soon as she caught up with him. Maybe she’d draw him a picture. On his skull. With the gauss wrench.
But how could she catch him?
She looked around the docking bay, but in the chaos of hustling crew and tugs and the clouds hissing out from gas exchangers and the space dust billowing away from hulls hooked up to electrostatic reversers, there were no answers to be found. She thought, What would Luke do? … and when she closed her eyes and took a deep breath or two, she decided that right now she should be going that way …
She drifted aimlessly through the docking bay cavern for a few minutes, bemusedly waiting for another feeling to strike her; she was so focused on her inner feelings that it took her a second or two to register that the handsome profile of that tall pilot up ahead, the one chatting with the deck crew men who were cleating down his B-wing, belonged to a friend of hers.
“Tycho!” She waved and headed over to him. “Tycho, I am so glad to see you!”
Tycho Celchu greeted her with a bemused look of his own. “Princess? Aren’t you supposed to be in the negotiations?”
“Forget the negotiations,” she said. “I need a ride. It’s a diplomatic emergency.”
Tycho frowned. “Um …”
“I’m a rated gunner on that thing,” she said, nodding toward the B-wing. “I need you to get it space-ready as fast as possible.”
His frown deepened. “Princess, you’re a civilian—”
“And my mother was your queen.” Trading on her family’s station always left a sickly weight in the pit of her stomach, but this was an emergency. “You’ve been Alderaanian a lot longer than you’ve been an officer. Will you do this for me, or should I ask somebody else?”
“Ask somebody what?” Wedge Antilles had come up beside her. “Hi, Princess. How go the negotiations?”
“Wedge, hi.” Leia winced—another friend she’d have to lie to. “Uh … something’s come up. I need to borrow Tycho and his B-wing. Maybe for just a few hours.”
“If it were up to me …” Wedge spread his hands apologetically. “But Lando—that is, General Calrissian—he’s a real nice guy, y’know, easygoing and relaxed when he’s out of uniform. But the first time you violate his orders, you find out he’s got no sense of humor at all.”
She looked from one to the other. Why would the Force have sent her in this direction in the first place if there were no chance she could—
What would Luke do?
She took a deep breath, shut her eyes, and sighed it out again. When she opened her eyes, she could now see the two men before her clearly. Tycho had been only a vehicle for her, Wedge only a roadblock … but now they were men, good men, friends who honestly cared about her obvious distress. They deserved better than to be conned into helping her.
Slowly, clearly, simply, she said, “Luke’s in danger.”
Wedge and Tycho exchanged an unreadable glance. Wedge said, “What kind of danger?”
She couldn’t keep a hint of quaver out of her voice. “The fatal kind.”
Tycho looked at Wedge. Wedge’s mouth compressed and he stared down at the deck. Not for long—less than a second—and then he huffed a sigh, and gave a decisive nod. Tycho wheeled and sprinted away.
Leia watched as the Alderaanian raced headlong through the chaos in the docking bay cavern. “Where’s he going?”
Wedge was already jogging