Star Wars_ Splinter of the Mind's Eye - Alan Dean Foster [9]
So she sat and fumed silently to herself, alternately conjuring up the curses she’d employ when he finally did arrive and worrying about what she’d do if he didn’t.
Aahhh-wooop!
Again the trumpeting sound. Whatever had produced it had not left after all. If anything, the sharp hooting sounded closer. This time her hand tightened around the pistol. Once more she examined the surrounding jungle, saw nothing.
As she stared she theorized. Suppose she had misinterpreted that landing beacon somehow? Suppose it was only the barest of automatic installations and this world was devoid not only of mechanics but of facilities for organic travelers as well?
If Luke was dead she’d be marooned here alone, without any idea of … There was a loud crashing, off to her right this time. Swinging around in the seat she instinctively fired off a burst through the cracked port and was rewarded with the odor of burnt, wet vegetable matter. The muzzle of the pistol remained focused on the carbonized spot. Hopefully, she’d hit the thing. Fortunately, she hadn’t.
“It’s me!” a voice shouted, sounding more than a little shaky. She’d barely missed him.
“It’s me and Artoo.”
“Artoo Detoo!” Threepio clambered out of the cockpit, moved to greet his squat counterpart.
“Artoo, it’s good to …” Threepio paused, then continued in a different tone. “What do you think you’re doing, making me wait like this? When I think of the anguish you’ve caused me …”
“Luke, are you all right?”
He began climbing up the damaged side of the fighter, sat down next to the open cockpit. “Yes. I touched down behind you. I was afraid Artoo and I might miss you.”
“I was afraid you …” She stopped, looked down, unable to meet his gaze. “I apologize, Luke. I made a mistake in trying to land here.”
Luke also looked away, embarrassed. “Nobody could have foreseen the atmospheric disturbance that forced us down, Leia.”
She looked into the jungle. “I managed to plot the location of that homing beacon before my instruments went out completely.” She pointed slightly behind them and to her left. “It’s back that way. Once we reach the station we can locate whoever’s in charge and arrange for passage off this world.”
“If there’s a station,” Luke pointed out mildly, “or anyone in charge of it.”
“It occurred to me that it might be a fully automated station,” she confessed, “but I don’t know what else we can do.”
“Agreed,” said Luke with a slow sigh. “We’ve got nothing to gain by sitting here. I used to believe in miracles. I don’t, anymore. We can get eaten just as quickly here as we can on the trail.”
The Princess looked downcast. “You’ve encountered carnivorous life, then?”
“No, hardly any life at all, actually. The only animal of any size I confronted,” he went on with a slight grin, “took one look at me and ran off like a spooked Bantha.” He turned, moved to enter the cockpit. “Let’s get started while it’s still light. I’ll give you a hand making up a pack.”
Carefully he lowered himself in next to her. As he unlatched her seat he became conscious of the confined space they were working in. Awkwardly pressed up against him, the Princess seemed to take no notice of their proximity. In the dampness, though, her body heat was near palpable to Luke and he had to force himself to keep his attention on what he was doing.
Raising herself from the cockpit, the Princess stood on the nose of the fighter and reached down to him. “Hand it up, Luke.”
He lifted the burgeoning pack. “Too heavy?” he asked as he handed it to her. She slid it onto her back, slipped both arms through the straps and adjusted the weight before tightening them.
“The burden of public office was a lot heavier,” she shot back. “Let’s get moving.”
Briskly scrambling over the side, she let herself drop to the ground, planted her feet, took two steps in the direction of the distant beacon