Star Wars: X-Wing 07: Solo Command by Aaron Allston

Author:Aaron Allston
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: 0553506056
Publisher: Spectra
Published: 2011-06-28T04:00:00+00:00

The moment Donos was out of sight, Wedge slipped out from a second-level shelf full of foodstuff packages. “Well, that was interesting.”

“Wedge! Why don’t you scare the other half of my life out of me? How long were you waiting there?”

“About fifteen minutes. During most of which, Donos just sat there, waiting to decide whether or not to play his game.”

“Well, he did. A good sign.”

“I hope so.” Wedge reached behind the first row of stacked food crates and dragged another one up front. This one, like the others, was labeled BANTHA STEAK, DEHYDRATED, 250 GRAMS RESTORED, INDIVIDUALLY PACKAGED. But the top was ajar and the smell wafting from the crate, something like fruit and leaf compost, was not reminiscent of bantha meat. Wedge reached into the crate’s top and drew out a bowl full of brownish lumps Janson couldn’t identify. “Now, you’ve fed Kettch before, correct?”

“No. You and whatever crew you’ve been using haven’t brought me in before now.”

“That’s right.” Wedge led Janson toward the forward doors out of the cargo area. “There are still some security concerns, since Kettch was supposed to be a Hawk-bat, not a New Republic pilot. So we’re limiting the personnel who see him. He gets one bowlful like this, three times a day. We have him set up near an officers’ mess that General Solo isn’t using, since he doesn’t entertain. So you’ll get water for Kettch from the mess.”

“Right.”

They passed through a small door into a secondary cargo area, this one much smaller than the one they’d left, its shelves full of crates labeled BULK CLOTH. From the rear, they approached a larger crate, one two meters by two meters by one and a half tall, which had been laid out in the aisle between rows of shelves.

“And now,” Wedge said, as they got to the front of the crate, “you meet—uh-oh.”

A door that had obviously been retrofitted onto the front of the crate lay on the floor, off its hinges. There was nothing within the crate but what looked like a bed of grass and cloth scraps.

“He’s loose?” Janson said.

“He’s loose.” Wedge looked around. “But for how long? We’ve got to find him, keep to a minimum the number of crewmen who see him—”

There was a soft patter-patter of movement from the far end of the chamber, the bow end.

“We’re in luck,” Wedge said. “He’s still in here.” He extended the bowl of food. “Here, take some. Maybe we can lure him back.”

Janson grimaced as he grabbed up a handful of the smelly Ewok food.

They headed forward, only to hear the forward door out of the chamber hiss open, followed by the patter-patter of bare feet and the door hissing closed again. Wedge headed forward at a dead run, Janson at his heels.

The door opened for them, revealing dimness beyond, then Wedge was skidding to a halt and Janson ran into him. They toppled over together, crashing into containers of some sort, and fluid, liters of it, splashed over them.

A sharp, poisonously clean smell forced its way into Janson’s nose.

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