[Thrawn Trilogy] - 01(106)

“We will,” Han assured him grimly. “We’ll stick around long enough to find out what kind of game Karrde’s playing, but then we’re gone. Even if we have to blow out of here with that camo net still hanging off the ship.”

The strangest thing about waking up this time, Luke decided dimly, was that he didn’t actually hurt anywhere.

And he should have. From what he remembered of those last few seconds-and from the view of splintered trees outside the fighter’s twisted canopy-he would have counted himself lucky even to be alive, let alone undamaged. Clearly, the restraints and crash balloons had been augmented by something more sophisticated-an emergency acceleration compensator, perhaps.

A shaky sort of gurgle came from behind him. “You okay, Artoo?” he called, levering himself out of his seat and climbing awkwardly across the canted floor. “Hang on, I’m coming.”

The droid’s information retrieval jack had been snapped off in the crash, but apart from that and a couple of minor dents, he didn’t seem to have been damaged. “We’d better get moving,” Luke told him, untangling him from his restraints. “That other ship could be back with a ground party any time.”

With an effort, he got Artoo aft. The hatchway door popped open without serious complaint; hopping down, he looked around.

The second fighter would not be returning with any ground parties. It was right here. In worse shape, if possible, than Luke’s.

From the hatchway, Artoo whistled in squeamish-sounding awe. Luke glanced up at him, looked back at the ruined craft. Given the fighters’ safety equipment, it was unlikely that Mara was seriously injured. A backup flight was inevitable-she would probably be able to hold out until then.

But then again, she might not.

“Wait here, Artoo,” he told the droid. “I’m going to take a quick look.”

Even though the exterior of the fighter was in worse shape than Luke’s, the interior actually seemed to be a little better off. Crunching his way across the bits of debris in the weapons/tech area, he stepped into the cockpit doorway.

Only the top of the pilot’s head showed over the seat back, but that shimmering red-gold hair was all he needed to see to know that his earlier guess had been correct. It was indeed Mara Jade who’d been chasing him.

For a pair of heartbeats he stayed where he was, torn between the need for haste and the need to satisfy his internal sense of ethics. He and Artoo had to get out of here with all possible speed; that much was obvious. But if he turned his back on Mara now, without even pausing to check her condition …

His mind flashed back to Coruscant, to the night Ben Kenobi had said his final farewells. In other words, he’d told Threepio later up on the roof, a Jedi can’t get so caught up in matters of galactic importance that it interferes with his concern for individual people. And it would, after all, only take a minute. Stepping into the room, he looked around the seat back.

Directly into a pair of wide-open, perfectly conscious green eyes. Green eyes that stared at him over the barrel of a tiny blaster.

“I figured you’d come,” she said, her voice grimly satisfied. “Back up. Now.”

He did as ordered. “Are you hurt at all?” he asked.

“None of your business,” she retorted. She climbed out of the seat, pulling a small flat case from under the chair with her free hand as she stood up. Another glitter caught his eye: she was again wearing his lightsaber on her belt. “There’s a case in that compartment just over the exit hatch,” she told him. “Get it.”

He found the release and got the compartment open. Inside was an unfamiliarly labeled metal case with the very familiar look of a survival kit to it. “I hope we’re not going to have to walk the whole way back,” he commented, pulling the bag out and dropping out the hatchway.

“I won’t,” she countered. She seemed to hesitate, just a little, before following him down to the ground. “Whether you make the trip back at all is another question.”

He locked gazes with her. “Finishing what you started with this?” he asked, nodding at his wrecked ship.

She snorted. “Listen, buddy boy, it was you who took us down, not me. My only mistake was being stupid enough to be sitting too close to your tail when you hit the trees. Put the bag down and get that droid out of there.”

Luke did as he was told. By the time Artoo was down beside him she had the survival kit’s lid open and was fiddling one-handed with something inside. “Just stay right there,” she told him. “And keep your hands where I can see them.”

She paused, cocking her head slightly to the side as if listening. A moment later, in the distance, Luke could hear the faint sound of an approaching ship. “Sounds like our ride back is already on the way,” Mara said. “I want you and the droid-” She stopped in midsentence, her eyes going strangely unfocused, her throat tight with concentration. Luke frowned, eyes and ears searching for the problem …