[Thrawn Trilogy] - 01(126)

Luke gritted his teeth, mind searching furiously for a plan. Shadowboxing at the creature’s head like this wasn’t anything more than a delaying tactic; but the minute the distraction ceased, Mara was as good as dead. The vornskr would either slash her arms with its claws or else simply overwhelm her grip by brute force. With the loss of his welder, Artoo had no fighting capability left; and if the vornskr kept at him with that whip tail …

The tail. “Artoo!” Luke snapped. “Next time that tail hits you, try to grab it.”

Artoo beeped a shaky acknowledgment and extended his heavy grasping arm. Luke watched out of the corner of his eye, still trying to keep the vornskr’s head and front paws busy. The tail whipped around again, and with a warble of triumph, Artoo caught it.

A warble that turned quickly into a screech. Again with almost casual strength, the vornskr ripped its tail free, taking most of the grasping arm with it.

But it had been pinned out of action for a pair of heartbeats, and that was all the time Luke needed. Diving around Artoo’s bulk and under the trapped whip tail, he darted his hand to Mara’s side and snatched back his lightsaber.

The whip tail slashed toward him as he rolled back to his feet, but by the time it got there Luke was out of range around Artoo’s side again. Igniting the lightsaber, he reached the blazing blade past the flailing claws and brushed the vornskr’s nose.

The predator screamed, in anger or pain, shying back from this bizarre creature that had bit it. Luke tapped it again and again, trying to drive it away from Mara where he could safely deliver a killing blow.

Abruptly, in a single smooth motion, the vornskr leaped backwards onto solid ground, then sprang straight at Luke. Also in a single smooth motion, Luke cut it in half.

“About time,” a hoarse voice croaked from beneath his feet. He looked down to see Mara push half the dead vornskr off her chest and raise herself up on one elbow. “What in blazes was that stupid game you were playing?”

“I didn’t think you’d like your hands cut off if I missed,” Luke told her, breathing hard. He took a step back as she sat up and offered her a helping hand.

She waved the hand away. Rolling slowly onto hands and knees, she pushed herself tiredly to her feet and turned back to face him.

With her blaster back in her hand.

“Just drop the lightsaber and move back,” she panted, gesturing with the weapon for emphasis.

Luke sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t believe you,” he said, shutting down the lightsaber and dropping it onto the ground. The adrenaline was receding from his system now, leaving both face and shoulder aching like fury. “Or didn’t you notice that Artoo and I just saved your life?”

“I noticed. Thanks.” Keeping her blaster trained on him, Mara stooped to retrieve the lightsaber. “I figure that’s my reward for not shooting you two days ago. Get over there and sit down.”

Luke looked over at Artoo, who was moaning softly to himself. “Do you mind if I look at Artoo first?”

Mara looked down at the droid, her lips compressed into a thin line. “Sure, go ahead.” Moving clear of both of them, she picked up the survival pack and trudged off to one of the trees at the edge of the clearing.

Artoo wasn’t in as bad a shape as Luke had feared. Both the welder and the grasping arm had broken off cleanly, leaving no trailing wires or partial components that might get caught on something else. Speaking quiet encouragement to the droid, Luke got the two compartments sealed.

“Well?” Mara asked, sitting with her back to a tree and gingerly applying salve to the oozing claw marks on her arms.

“He’s okay for now,” Luke told her as he went back over to his own tree and sat down. “He’s been damaged worse than this before.”

“I’m so glad to hear it,” she said sourly. She glanced at Luke, took a longer look. “He got you good, didn’t he?”

Carefully, Luke touched the welt running across his cheek and forehead. “I’ll be all right.”

She snorted. “Sure you will,” she said, her voice laced with sarcasm as she went back to treating her gashes. “I forgot-you’re a hero, too.”

For a long minute Luke watched her, trying once more to understand the complexities and contradictions of this strange woman. Even from three meters away he could see that her hand was shaking as she applied the salve: with reaction, perhaps, or muscle fatigue. Almost certainly with fear-she’d escaped a bloody death by a bare handful of centimeters, and she would have to be a fool not to recognize that.

And yet, whatever she was feeling inside, she was clearly determined not to let any of it out past that rock-hard surface she’d so carefully built up around herself. As if she was afraid to let weakness of any sort show through …