Star Wars_ The New Rebellion - Kristine Kathryn Rusch [156]
Han scowled at him. “Can you trust him?”
“I honestly don’t care,” Lando said. “He’ll help me get these wounded off this rock. That’s all that matters.”
Han nodded. The injured were already strewn around the Luck. She no longer looked like a pleasure craft, but instead like a hospital ship from the Rebellion. The moaning was terrible. Sstys without hair, Oodocs without spikes, humans without arms, made the devastation seem even more personal in here.
“I’m going to take a load out of the Run. Blue told me that the droids that exploded were meant for Coruscant.”
“Blue?” Lando set the Ruurian down on a pallet near a Rodian who was missing both eyes. “But I thought—”
“She was working for someone named Kueller. From Almania. He wants Leia.”
“Almania.” Lando stood and put his hand on the small of his back as if it hurt him. “It all comes back to that, doesn’t it?”
Han nodded. “I guess I was bait.”
“If the droids were meant for Coruscant …” Lando’s voice trailed off. Then he smiled wanly. “Tell you what, buddy. I’ll do double runs here. You do what you have to.”
Han squeezed Lando’s shoulder. “You’re a good friend, Lando. I’ve realized that more and more on this trip to the Run.”
“I reformed, Han,” Lando said softly. “There was a time when I wasn’t much better than Blue.”
Han shook his head. “You’d never have been a part of this, Lando. Ever. She knew what those droids would do.”
Lando grimaced. “Karrde said things had changed here. No wonder he never wanted to come back.”
“Yeah.” Han started down the ramp, then stopped. “Thanks,” he said.
Lando made a vain attempt at a smile. “You have it all, pal. I envy that.”
“Someday, Lando,” Han said.
“Someday,” Lando agreed, and turned back to the Ruurian to make it more comfortable.
Han hurried out of the Luck. He hoped he still had it all. Losing Leia and the children was a threat he seemed to have to deal with constantly, and it was one he never wanted to contemplate. He knew what he would do if they were murdered, and it would be ugly.
If something happened to Leia and the children, Han would never be considered nice again.
The creature licked him.
Luke put his arms over his head as the smooth tongue washed over him, once, twice, three times. The stench was incredible, but the sensation was actually pleasant. The burning pain in his back was easing.
And he felt as if he had been wrapped in a thick, warm blanket.
He had read about such things before: creatures with anesthetic in their saliva so that the intended victim would feel no pain as it died. Although he thought the anesthetic would also sap his will to live. It did not. He felt as if he was gaining strength.
But he couldn’t move. The tongue was heavy and effectively held him down.
Then a picture grew in his mind. A little Luke cringing on the floor, holding a weapon. The pain in his hand—no, paw—and the blood. The confusion—why do these creatures constantly hurt him?—and the deep, deep loneliness. A longing for cool woods and fresh water, and sunlight.
Sunlight.
It—the Thernbee—missed sunlight.
It was psychic. The creature had psychic powers. The Thernbee had tapped into Luke’s mind.
“Hey,” Luke said. His voice was muffled against the large tongue. “I need to breathe.”
Immediately the tongue pulled away from him. He felt a twinge of fear in the large creature, a hope that he wouldn’t attack it again. Luke took a deep breath and held out his hand.
“I’m not holding anything.”
The creature tilted its head. It didn’t understand him.
Luke formed a picture in his own mind: that of himself, breaking the splinters over his knee and tossing them away. Then he imagined pulling the splinter from the Thernbee’s paw, and medicating the wound.
I’m sorry, Luke said. I thought you were going to hurt me.
The Thernbee sent images. Tiny people attacking it, biting it, slapping at it, screaming, poking it with sticks and flames. It would bat them away, and eventually, they would die. Its meals came so irregularly that sometimes it would have to eat the dead, a thought that made