Star Wars_ The New Rebellion - Kristine Kathryn Rusch [157]
Its body was three times smaller than it should be.
The Thernbee was starving to death.
Slowly.
All alone in the dark.
Luke shuddered. He had no idea how long the creature had been here, but he deduced it had been a while. He stood and walked over to it, then pointed at the grates in the ceiling. He imagined the Thernbee batting the grate out with its paws.
The Thernbee stood on its hind legs, and stretched its long body. The grate was about a meter higher than its paws could reach.
It showed him all its attempts to escape, trying to get the guards, trying to use pieces of wood, trying to jump. Nothing loosened the grate.
I could, Luke thought.
The Thernbee looked quizzical again. Its eyes were round and blue and very gentle, its nose a delicate pink. Its teeth had the blunted edges of vegetarian animals.
Luke wondered how he had ever thought it dangerous.
He imagined himself on the tip of the Thernbee’s paws, climbing through the bars in the grate, and releasing the Thernbee.
The creature sat on its haunches, glanced at the grate, then at Luke, and sent him a picture of himself, pulling through the bars in the grate and walking away.
It had happened before. The creature showed a few other humans doing the same thing. The images came mixed with a lot of sadness, and an unwillingness to trust again.
Luke pondered the image for a moment. Then he let his memories slide into images, showing himself working with Yoda, helping the Jawa on the Eye of Palpatine, talking to Anakin, Jacen, and Jaina in the medical center. He showed examples of his work with the students from various species, and he showed what he could of Jedi philosophy. Most of it seemed simplistic, done in imagery alone, but it apparently got the message across.
The Thernbee extended its left paw, the uninjured paw.
Without hesitating, Luke stepped on it, and began climbing. It was hard because he couldn’t put any weight on his left ankle. Mostly he had to pull with his arms. He climbed to the top of the pad and grabbed the claw. The claw was about the length of his leg, and he had to wrap both arms around it to hang on tightly. The Thernbee stood on its hind legs, stretched its long body, and reached toward the grate. Luke stood, carefully leaning against the claw, and managed to grip the metal. Then he pulled himself up.
The air was clearer here. The corridor was wide and clean. The walls were made of a material he had never seen before; some sort of gray paperish substance that had small designs embellishing it. He didn’t have time to look. He peered back through the grate.
The Thernbee was on its haunches again, its eyes glowing in the darkness. Luke sent it an image of the floor above. Then he scanned the edges of the grate to see if he could pull it free.
“Actually,” said a voice behind him, “you have to pull the lever. Over to your left.”
Luke looked. A lever extended from the floor tiles near the wall. Beside the lever stood four guards, all holding blasters on him. They were wearing stormtrooper uniforms. The guard who had spoken had his mask off. He nodded in the other direction.
Luke turned. Seven more guards covered him from the other side.
A feeling of despair so fierce it almost knocked him over filled him. The feeling was coming from the Thernbee. Luke wanted to send it an image, warning it not to give up, but he didn’t know how. Nor did he have the time to concentrate on it.
Instead, he said, “What makes you think I want the lever?”
The stormtrooper shrugged. “It would make for a lot of chaos around here to free the Thernbee.”
That it would. Luke wished he had thought of