[Thrawn Trilogy] - 02(12)

“Maybe you should stay here,” Luke suggested, unhooking his lightsaber from his belt. “I’m not sure how well I’ll be able to protect you if they decide to make a fight of it.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Lando told him. “Ferrier knows me; maybe I can keep it from coming down to a fight. Besides, I’ve got an idea I want to try.”

They were just under twenty meters from the first human when Luke caught the change in sense from the group ahead. “They’ve spotted us,” he murmured to Lando, shifting his grip slightly on his lightsaber.

“You want to try talking to them?”

“I don’t know,” Lando murmured back, craning his neck to look down the seemingly deserted corridor ahead. “We might need to get a little closer-“

It came as a flicker of movement from one of the doorways, and an abrupt ripple in the Force. “Duck!” Luke barked, igniting his lightsaber. With a snap-hiss the brilliant green-white blade appeared—

And moved almost of its own accord to neatly block the blaster bolt that shot toward them.

“Get behind me!” Luke ordered Lando as a second bolt sizzled the air toward them. Guided by the Force, his hands again shifted the lightsaber blade into the path of the attack. A third bolt spattered from the blade, followed by a fourth. From a doorway farther down the corridor a second blaster opened up, adding its voice to the first.

Luke held his ground, feeling the Force flowing into him and out through his arms, evoking an odd sort of tunnel vision effect that turned mental spotlights on the attack itself and relative darkness on everything else. Lando, half crouched directly behind him, was only a hazy sense in the back of his mind; the rest of Ferrier’s people were even dimmer. Setting his teeth firmly together, letting the Force control his defense, he kept his eyes moving around the corridor, alert for new threats.

He was looking directly at the odd shadow when it detached itself from the wall and started forward.

For a long minute he didn’t believe what he was seeing. There was no texture or detail to the shadow; nothing but a slightly fluid shape and nearly absolute blackness. But it was real:and it was moving toward him. “Lando!” he shouted over the scream of blaster shots. “Five meters away-forty degrees left. Any ideas?”

He heard the hissing intake of air from behind him. “Never seen anything like it. Retreat?”

With an effort, Luke pulled as much of his concentration as he dared away from their defense and turned it toward the approaching shadow. There was indeed something there one of the alien intelligences, in fact, that he’d sensed earlier. Which implied it was one of Ferrier’s people:

“Stay with me,” he told Lando. This was going to be risky, but turning tail and running wouldn’t accomplish anything. Moving slowly, keeping his stance balanced and yet fluid, he headed directly toward the shadow.

The alien halted, its sense clearly surprised that a potential prey would be advancing instead of backing away from it. Luke took advantage of the momentary hesitation to move farther toward the corridor wall to his left. The first blaster, its shots starting to come close to the mobile shadow as it tracked Luke’s movement, abruptly ceased fire. The shadow’s form shifted slightly, giving Luke the impression of something looking over its shoulder. He continued moving to his left, drawing the second blaster’s fire toward the shadow as he did so; and a second later it, too, fell reluctantly silent.

“Good job,” Lando murmured approvingly in his’ ear. “Allow me.”

He took a step back from Luke. “Ferrier?” he called. “This is Lando Calrissian. Listen, if you want to keep your pal here in one piece, you’d better call him off. This is Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight. The guy who took down Darth Vader.”

Which wasn’t strictly true, of course. But it was close enough. Luke had, after all, defeated Vader in their last lightsaber duel, even if he hadn’t actually gone on to kill him.

Regardless, the implications weren’t lost on the unseen men down the corridor. He could sense the doubt and consternation among them; and even as he lifted his lightsaber a little higher, the shadow stopped its approach. “What was your name?” someone called.

“Lando Calrissian,” Lando repeated. “Think back to that botched Phraetiss operation about ten years ago.

“Oh, I remember,” the voice said grimly. “What do you want?”

“I want to offer you a deal,” Lando said. “Come on out and we’ll talk.”

There was a moment of hesitation. Then, the big man from Luke’s memory track stepped out from behind a group of crates that had been stacked against the corridor wall, the simmering cigarra still clenched between his teeth. “All of you,” Lando insisted. “Come on, Ferrier, bring them out. Unless you seriously think you can hide them from a Jedi.”