Star Wars_ The Jedi Academy Trilogy 02_ Dark Apprentice - Kevin J. Anderson [74]
“How long will you be gone, sir?” Threepio asked, trying to stop Jacen from climbing into the open closets.
“As long as it takes to rescue my wife,” Han answered.
He sprinted toward the door, taking two steps before he froze. He spun around and returned to his two children. He bent down again and gathered Jacen and Jaina in a big hug. “You two behave for Chewie and Threepio. You have to watch out for each other.”
“We are good,” Jacen answered with a touch of indignation. At that moment the little boy looked heart-wrenchingly like Leia.
“I have recently updated my child-care programming, sir,” Threepio said. “We’ll have no trouble at all.” The golden droid nudged the twins as he tried to usher them back to their own room. “Come, children, I will tell you an entertaining story.”
Jacen and Jaina began crying again.
Han took a last longing look at the twins and then ran out of the living quarters, pausing only a moment to straighten the soft chair Chewbacca had knocked over.
The cyberfuse made a popping sound as it clattered on the cockpit floor of the Millennium Falcon. Lando Calrissian stared at it in disgust, then turned back to the control panels.
He had finished updating the navicomputer software, but somehow that had caused the cockpit lights to short out. He rummaged around in the small bin of old greasy-smelling replacement fuses and yanked out one that looked appropriate.
The Falcon had been cobbled together from so many different parts, he could never keep track of how much spit and monofilament wire kept the ship running. He wondered for the hundredth time why he loved the craft so much.
He popped in the fuse, activated it, and flicked a row of switches that remained glassy dead. “Come on,” Lando said, smacking the panel hard with the flat of his left palm.
With a humming whirr and a blast of cold chemical-smelling air from the recirculating ducts, the controls winked to life. Lando closed his eyes with a sigh. “Good old emergency repair procedure number one,” he said.
“Hey, Lando!”
He heard the loud, determined voice from outside in the repair bay. Without looking Lando knew Han Solo had come to shout at him about something.
He felt tired, itchy from sweat and frustrated at how long it was taking to get the Millennium Falcon performing up to his exacting standards. He stood up from the open control panels and walked across the short corridor, his boots making impatient clangs on the deck plates. He bent down on the entrance ramp to stick his head out.
“Lando,” Han said again, hurrying toward him, his face red with agitation. Sweat clumped his dark hair together, and he marched forward with the unstoppable attitude of an Imperial construction droid.
“Han,” Lando said, scowling, “you didn’t tell me this junk heap was in such bad shape when we played sabacc.”
Han ignored the comment and sprinted up the ramp, carrying a mesh sack of supplies and wearing a blaster at his hip. Lando raised his eyebrows. “Han—”
“Lando, I need the Falcon. Now.” He pushed past Lando, dropped his sack on the deck plates, and hit the controls for the entrance ramp. Lando had to jump inside as the greased cylinders hauled the slanted metal ramp back into position.
“Han, this is my ship now. You can’t just—”
Han went directly to the cockpit and threw himself into the pilot seat. Lando charged up behind Han. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Han spun around in the pilot chair and fixed Lando with a stare that skewered him like a pair of stun bolts. “The planet Calamari is being attacked by Admiral Daala at this very moment. Leia’s trapped there. Now, are you going to help me go rescue her in the Falcon, or do I pick you up by your scruffy neck and throw you off the ship?”
Lando backed off, holding both palms up in a gesture of peace. “Whoa, whoa, Han! Leia’s in trouble? Let’s go—but I’m flying,” he said, motioning for Han to move into