Star Wars_ Planet of Twilight - Barbara Hambly [149]
She stepped back in, pressing him, her attention narrowed to nothing but the monstrous thing before her and the shining blades. Nothing else existed in her mind. He had enormous striking range, flinging forward like a serpent, so that she threw herself sidelong, rolled—Thank you for the practice, Callista, Luke—under the paralyzing wallop of his tail and was on her feet again and going in, the blade seeming to stream fire from her hand.
Not a second, not a moment, to lose—the plague rising up from this dim-shining world—the monster coming toward her again, rutilant eyes staring. He struck with his tail again, hundreds of kilos flashing with the speed of a whip. She barely dodged, wishing she had Luke’s acrobatic training, his ability to Force-lift. The blades tangled, parted, Leia panting as she leapt sideways again, sparring for distance, watching the tail, fighting to remain close enough to strike. In and out, Callista had said—It’s the only way for a woman to fight. Like a huge serpent he struck, and she raised her blade to defend, her mind open with the Force, feeling before he did so that he was going to switch to lateral again.
He did, and she was in under the blow and slashing a long, streaming, sidelong cut that went through the soft green body like burning wire. She flung herself past him, away from him, fast, for the huge bulk of him burst open, severed clean through, mammoth gouts of fluid and flesh and organs exploding soddenly forth.
She heard him bellow with rage, once—saw the hot smoke-colored blade of his lightsaber go whirling, end over end.
Then he was collapsing like a punctured balloon, like an empty sack, and Leia stood panting, covered in slime, her own blade burning in her hand, as Luke flung himself out from under the Headhunter and into its cockpit.
Dripping with filth, she saluted him with the blade, and Luke saluted back, their eyes meeting for an instant before he slammed the cockpit shut. Luke knew what it was that he saw.
Her first victory. The victory over the shadow of Vader. The victory of acceptance of herself.
And, he knew who had taught her that long characteristic side cut.
He hit the lifters, and the Headhunter slammed into life and rocketed like a falcon into the sky.
It rose faster than the Reliant, faster than most interceptors, for it had been designed to outmaneuver the gun stations, and had done so before. Course controls were adapted to the positions of each gun station, Liegeus’s calculations, beautifully precise. He punched in the program, to hold the segment of sky guarded only by Bleak Point, knowing that had to be the way the Reliant was going as well. The flashes of light returned to his mind. Fighting, he thought. Fighting high above the surface of the planet, orbital battle. Someone must have come in to stop them.
Would they know to open fire on a ship rising from the planet’s surface?
Blue sky darkened around him. The pale stars brightened to burning jewels.
He saw the gray ship, rising far ahead, making for the flurry of explosions and lights. There was a Republic corsair, hanging in space, far away to his left, being torn to pieces by tiny, darting CCIR Needles of black and bronze. The things the Empire wanted. The things Loronar was going to give them.
Beyond, at the farthest range of his vision, he saw the fleet.
Imperials. Two, three Republic vessels— Was that the Falcon? Dodging, twisting, like durkii maddened by parasitic kleex, trying to fire at the Imperial ships that were surrounding them.