Star Wars_ Luke Skywalker and the Shadows of Mindor - Matthew Woodring Stover [97]
“We’re practically kissing each other’s shields as it is,” Kartill replied. “And—begging the general’s pardon—being that close together is about to be a serious problem, once those STOEs swing over the horizon.”
“Don’t remind me.” He turned to the officer at the communications board. “Anything from Shysa?”
“Report coming in now, sir. I’ll put it on speaker.”
The crisp sizzle of blasterfire was the only thing that came clearly over the comm channel; everything else was half-buried in static. Lando leaned over the board and tried to keep smiling. “Shysa! Calrissian. I need good news, Fenn! We’re only eight minutes off that gravity gun’s firing window, and I’ve got a whole lot of ships with their bellies hanging out up here!”
C-3PO had reached his feet and now shuffled toward Lando. “General Calrissian—”
“Later. Fenn, do you read?”
The comm crackled with more blasterfire and a louder burst of static that might have been a proton grenade. “We’re making progress, but it’s room-to-room! These black-armor types are dug in and they don’t seem to believe in runnin’ away.”
“Do they believe in dying?”
“Oh, that they have a talent for. Problem is, they keep tryin’ to take our boys with ’em when they go!”
“Keep on it, Fenn. I’ll see if I can organize some help.”
“Anything you can do will be welcome.”
“General Calrissian, please!” C-3PO hovered at Lando’s shoulder, and he sounded even more agitated than usual. “You might be interested—”
“I said later.” Lando pointed at the communications officer. “Open the dedicated channel to Captain Antilles in Rogue One.”
The officer nodded. “Ten seconds, sir.”
Lando turned to C-3PO. “Okay. Ten seconds. What’s so interesting?”
“Well, you may find it interesting; I can’t know for certain,” the droid replied defensively. “But interesting or not, it’s unquestionably significant. In my opinion, that is.”
“Your opinion?”
“General? Captain Antilles,” the officer said.
“Please, General Calrissian, my opinion, on this matter, is most reliable!”
“Lost your chance.” Lando turned back to the comm board. “Wedge. Change of plans. Pull the Rogues off the turbo towers. The Mandos are having trouble securing the gravity gun. If that dome opens up, I want more ordnance going in than coming out, do you read?”
“Copy that, but I’m down three birds. Got a squadron or two you can spare?”
“Don’t make jokes, Wedge. Just get there. A lot of lives are depending on you.”
“We’re used to it, sir.”
“That’s why I wouldn’t give the job to anybody else. Clear skies, Wedge.”
“See you on the far side, General. Rogue Leader out.”
“But—but General Calrissian—”
“Not now, Threepio!” Lando clenched his jaw. He’d had a feeling all along that it might come to this. “Kartill, alert the fleet. We’re going atmospheric.”
All three of the exec’s eyes blinked at once. “Sir?”
“You heard me. Dirtside. Everybody. It’s the only way. If we’re still in orbit ten minutes from now, those STOEs will cut us to pieces.”
“Land? Land where, sir?”
“We’ll worry about that after we’re out of their fire window, yes?”
“Yes, sir.”
“General—General, please!”
“Keep bothering me, Threepio, and I swear I’ll hit you so hard you’ll think you’re a garbage loader.”
“But, General, I thought you wanted to find Captain Solo!”
“What?” Lando turned and stared at the skinny protocol droid. “You know something about Han?”
“Possibly. In your brief communication with him—”
“Yeah, that was weird, wasn’t it? We can barely reach our own ships once they’re in that atmosphere, but we could pick up Han’s comlink, and he said he was in some kind of cave—”
“Yes, General. Yes, that’s it precisely. During that communication, I detected a subtle modulation in the carrier wave. Sort of a background noise, one might say.”
“What kind of background noise?”
“It appears to be a retrograde ortho-dialect of Surmo-Clarithian electrospeech