Star Wars: Legends 087: The Thrawn Trilogy 3: The Last Command by Timothy Zahn

Author:Timothy Zahn
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Star Wars, Video Game Adaptations, Action & Adventure, Science Fiction & Fantasy, TV, Movie, Space Opera, Fantasy, Adventure, Literature & Fiction, Science Fiction, Genre Fiction
ISBN: 0553564927
Publisher: Spectra
Published: 2011-06-28T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

19

“All right,” Han told Lando, his fingers searching along the edge of Artoo’s left leg for a better handhold. “Get ready.”

The droid twittered something. “He reminds you to be careful,” Threepio translated, standing nervously just far enough out of their way not to get yelled at. “Do remember that the last time—”

“We didn’t drop him on purpose,” Han growled. “If he’d rather wait for Luke, he’s welcome.”

Artoo twittered again. “He says that will not be necessary,” Threepio said primly. “He trusts you implicitly.”

“Glad to hear it,” Han said. There were, unfortunately, no better handholds. He’d have to talk to Industrial Automaton about that someday. “Here we go, Lando: lift.”

Together they strained; and with a jolt that wrenched Han’s back the droid came up and out of the tangle of tree roots that he’d somehow gotten entwined around his wheels. “There you go,” Lando grunted as they dropped the droid more or less gently back into the dirt and leaves of the dry creek bed. “How’s it feel?”

The explanation this time was longer. “He says there appears to have been only minimal damage,” Threepio said. “Mainly cosmetic in nature.”

“Translation: he’s rusting,” Han muttered, rubbing the small of his back as he turned around. Five meters further down the creek bed, Luke was using his lightsaber to carefully slice through a set of thick vines blocking their path. Beside him, Chewbacca and Mara were crouched with weapons drawn, ready to shoot the snakelike creatures that sometimes came boiling out when you cut into them. Like everything else on Wayland, they’d learned about that one the hard way.

Lando walked up beside him, brushing a few last bits of acidic tree root off his hands. “Fun place, isn’t it?” he commented.

“I should have brought the Falcon down closer,” Han grumbled. “Or moved it closer in when we found out we couldn’t use the speeder bikes.”

“If you had, we might be dodging Imperial patrols right now instead of fighting acid root and vine snakes,” Lando said. “Personally, I’d call that a fair trade.”

“I suppose so,” Han agreed reluctantly. In the near distance something gave out with a complicated whistle, and something else whistled back. He looked that direction, but between the brush and vines and two different levels of trees he couldn’t see anything.

“Doesn’t sound much like a predator,” Lando said.

“Maybe.” Han looked back over his shoulder, to where Threepio was talking soothingly to Artoo as he inspected the squat droid’s latest acid burns. “Hey—short stuff. Get your scanners busy.”

Obediently, Artoo extended its little antenna and began moving it back and forth. For a minute it clucked to itself, then jabbered something. “He says there are no large animals anywhere within twenty meters,” Threepio said. “Beyond that—”

“He can’t read through the undergrowth,” Han finished for him. It was getting to be a very familiar conversation. “Thanks.”

Artoo retracted his sensor, and he and Threepio resumed their discussion. “Where do you suppose they’ve all gone?” Lando asked.

“The predators?” Han shook his head. “Beats me. Maybe the same place the natives went.

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