Star Wars_ The New Rebellion - Kristine Kathryn Rusch [55]
It was an odd way to listen, hearing half the words and deciphering the rest.
“I know you have questions. It’s better if you don’t say anything.” The woman grabbed a chair, pumped its base so that the chair rose to Luke’s height, and then she climbed in. “I’ll answer what I can.”
He blinked, conveying, he hoped, his gratitude.
“You’re lucky I heard you land. I was hoping—” She caught herself, shook her head as if she were self-censoring, then said, “Never mind what I was hoping. I came to investigate and saw the mistmakers floating around the ship. I was about to turn around when that mistmaker exploded.”
Her eyes widened with the memory. Luke heard the sound, reverberating in his head, the amazing pop! that had saved his life.
“Nice work, that,” she said. “You’ll have to tell me how you did it. Those things are even resistant to blasterfire.”
His hearing was slowly coming back. He could make out more words. He also thought he could feel the air currents blowing on his back.
“I ducked. Slime went everywhere. Good thing I was far away, or I might have gotten covered. When I stood again, I saw you.”
“Thank you,” he whispered, or tried to. His lips didn’t work.
“Shush,” she said. “I’d’ve left you there if I weren’t already wearing my protective gear. Would’ve been nothing I could’ve done. By the time I’d’ve gotten my gear and come back, you’d’ve been dead. Luck. That’s all it was.”
And she was trying very hard not to take any credit. He would ask her about that later.
“Lessee. What else would you want to know?” She frowned and tugged at a silver ring on her right hand. “You’ve been here the better part of a day, and your X-wing is fine. Some small stains on the hull where the slime hit it. Nothing more.”
He cleared his throat. Feeling definitely was coming back. He felt as well as heard the sound.
She shrugged. “And me, I suppose. You’ll want to know about me.” She waved her left hand at the room. “Stole most of this stuff when the Imperials left. I should’ve left a long time ago myself, but—” Her pause was too long. That self-editing thing again. “—it’s home. No matter how terrible, there’s no place like home, right?”
He didn’t know. He was glad he didn’t have to answer that. Tatooine was home, but he would never live there again. Although he wasn’t certain if his answer would have been the same if Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen had lived.
“All this stuff has come in handy,” she said. “I can take care of myself, for the most part. Never had a run-in with the mistmakers like yours, though. Never seen anyone else do that and survive.”
The air currents were warm. That was what he had felt as he had first woken up. Because he wasn’t wearing anything else. Not pants, not a blanket, nothing. He tried to cover himself, but his hands just flopped beside him.
She laughed. “Don’t worry, son. I’ve seen it all and more. I had to uncover you to get you in the tank. And I thought it might be better if we waited for modesty until we were sure you were healed.”
His mouth was dry. Parched, as if he had been in the desert instead of in the mist. He licked his lips. “Water?” he whispered.
This time the word came out. And, he realized, he had feeling in his mouth, of all places.
“Nope.” She sounded positively cheerful as she denied him sustenance. “Worst thing you could have until all the feeling comes back.”
He licked his lips to ask again, and she waved a hand.
“Trust me on this,” she said. “It interacts with the poison the mistmaker put in your system. You don’t want any.”
Although he did. Desperately, now that he had feeling back in his mouth. He strained his mind, reached through the Force again. Strengthened himself as much as he could.
Pain shot through his toes, up his legs, and into his hips. Feeling, he reminded himself. He was feeling things.
And his lips could move.
“I came here—” he said slowly.