Star Wars_ X-Wing 07_ Solo Command - Aaron Allston [74]
“No, no, no.” Face shook his head. “That’s what it would have meant had it been an accidental sneeze. But it wasn’t. It was a deliberate sneeze.”
Elassar looked at him, his expression puzzled. “Why would he sneeze deliberately?”
Lara said, “He was clearing his chamber.”
“What chamber?”
Face leaned in, his expression conspiratorial. “We’re working on a secret weapon for desperate situations on our commando raids. Runt is strengthening his lungs, his sinus cavities.”
Lara said, “Before each mission in which we go into the field, we load Runt’s nose with plasteel ball bearings.”
“Then,” Face said, “if we’re captured and end up in the hands of just a couple of guards, Runt can take in a deep, deep breath and sneeze those ball bearings out at them.”
Lara nodded, her own expression earnest. “In secret tests, we’ve clocked the ball bearings erupting from his nose at just over five hundred klicks per hour. Definitely subsonic, but still fast enough to penetrate flesh and light stormtrooper armor.”
Elassar looked back and forth between them. “Hey, wait a minute. That would never work.” The two conspirators dissolved into laughter, and he continued, his voice petulant, “I was being serious. Can’t you be serious? Someone’s going to be in trouble.”
“You just summon us up some luck,” Face said. “We’re relying on you.”
Rostat Manr was good at his job. As a Sullustan, he was supposed to be adept at piloting, at navigating, but he knew that he and his fellow Sullustan ship handlers had gotten their reputation far more through hard work than through natural inclination.
Rostat had been rewarded for his hard work, too. For four years he’d flown Y-wings for the Rebel Alliance—now known as the New Republic. Less than a year ago, sick of war, certain that he’d done his duty for the cause he believed in, he accepted a position flying tugs for a civilian firm: Event Vistas, a cruise-vessel line. Only a few months ago, he’d been promoted to chief pilot aboard Nebula Queen, one of the line’s newest and most beautiful cruise vessels.
But now, he was in danger of losing all he had gained. The thought, as he stared out the viewport at the growing circle of color that was the planet Coruscant, made him sad.
He couldn’t tell anyone. They’d laugh at him. Then they’d demote him … at best.
For no one wanted to employ a pilot with Ewoks in his nose.
He could feel them dancing, hear the faint, tinny sounds of their music and singing as they made merry in his nostrils. All the digging he’d done had failed to dislodge them. He couldn’t think about anything but the Ewoks, and what it would take to rid himself of them.
All he had to do was crash Nebula Queen down upon Coruscant’s surface. Then everything would be all right. He smiled. Soon, soon.
As the cruise ship reached the point it should have maneuvered into high Coruscant orbit, Rostat kept her headed into the atmosphere. A carefully calculated approach, the precise speed and angle needed for her to breach the planetary atmosphere without igniting. He really needed for enough of the ship to be left to hit the planet’s surface, after all.
“Rostat?” That was his captain, a human female originally from Tatooine. Other humans described her as old and leathery, but Rostat didn’t have their perspective on human features. “What are you doing?”
Rostat looked at her, trying to mask his alarm. “You know, don’t you?”
“I know you’re out of your approach plane.”
“No. I mean, about my nose.”
She gave him a look that suggested she didn’t know. But she had to be shamming. She had to be in on it. Perhaps she’d even been the one who put the Ewoks up his nose.
Seized with a sudden fear of what she was, what she might do to him next, he drew his duty blaster and fired on her. It was point-blank range; he would have had to go to some effort to miss. His shot took her in the side and she fell over.
But it wasn’t a blaster shot. He looked curiously at his issue sidearm. It was set on kill,