Star Wars_ Splinter of the Mind's Eye - Alan Dean Foster [49]
“Two Yuzzem,” the doctor reminded him, “with human aid are a difficult combination to fight. Especially if outside help was involved.”
Grammel turned to her. “That is what has been troubling me. They must have had such help. The escape was too clean, too neat, for it to be otherwise. Especially for a pair of strangers. You still have not given me a legitimate reason for canceling the execution of the six guards.”
“Two of them are permanently maimed,” she told him, “and the others all scarred in various ways beyond my ability to repair. Your resources here are far from limitless, Captain-Supervisor. If you intend to search the region around all the towns you’re going to need every walking man you have. Besides, compassion makes men work harder than fear.”
“You’re a romantic, Doctor,” Grammel countered. “Despite which, your evaluation of my resources is quite accurate.” He turned to exit the room.
“Then you’ll countermand those execution orders?” she called after him.
“I have no choice,” he admitted. “One cannot argue with figures.” The door closed silently behind him.
The doctor turned back to her white sanctuary, gratified. Her task was to save lives. Whenever she could do that in a situation in which Grammel was involved, she felt a true sense of accomplishment.…
Days passed, became four, then five, six.
On the morning of the seventh day, Luke slid into the seat alongside Halla. The old woman insisted on taking her turn behind the controls and neither Luke nor Leia could talk her out of it.
“You said seven days,” Luke finally ventured evenly.
“To ten,” she admitted amiably, continuing to keep her attention on the ground ahead of them. She fought to give the impression that age had honed instead of weakened her ability to penetrate the mist.
Great trees with down-curving branches hung close by them. Halla negotiated a winding path around the thick boles.
Leia was resting on one of the cushioned, water-repellent seats behind them, gnawing on an oblong piece of fruit she’d found in one of the food lockers. The fruit shone in the dim daylight. It had been treated with some kind of slick preservative that gave it a honey-like glaze.
“You sure we’re going in the right direction?”
“Oh, there’s no mistaking that, girl,” Halla insisted. “But the distance could be a little uncertain. The greenies have a way of telling you what you want to hear. Maybe the one who babbled to me felt that if he’d told me the temple of Pomojema was a month’s journey off instead of a week’s, I wouldn’t have given him his methanol roll.”
“Maybe,” the Princess suggested, “he told you there was a temple because he thought the same way. Maybe there is no such temple.”
“We do have the piece of crystal as proof,” Luke pointed out. “At least, we did.” He looked downcast.
“There now, Luke boy,” Halla comforted him. “As you said, there was nothing you could have done about that.”
“Are you sure about the crystal’s properties, Luke?” the Princess asked uncertainly.
Luke nodded slowly. “I couldn’t have made a mistake, Leia. That stirring inside me when I touched it … I’ve only felt that before in the presence of Obi-wan Kenobi.” He stared off into the damp greenery. “It’s strange, like waves breaking inside your head, through your whole body.”
“Okay, the crystal gets first priority then.” She turned to face Halla. “But afterward, we have to get off this planet. The Alliance will give you whatever reward you wish, Halla, if you help us.”
“Oh, you can count on that,” she said. “I’ll do my best for you two.” She noticed a beep from Artoo and added, “Excuse me … you four. But I want nothin’ to do with the Rebels. I’m no outlaw.”
“We’re not outlaws either!” an outraged Leia exclaimed. “We’re revolutionaries and reformers.”
“Political outlaws, then,” Halla shot back.
“The Empire is staffed by outlaws.”
The old woman grinned back at Leia, her expression wizened by years. “I’m no philosopher, girl, and I lost any martyr complex I might’ve had