Luke Skywalker, the Last Jedi, faces his toughest challenge yet. To rebuild the Jedi Order, he must give up his personal hopes and dreams. Every move is critiqued by not only the New Republic Senate but also the Force-ghost Jedi Council of the past...
❷"Departing Coruscant"—Attack of the Clones Extended ST
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Naluma's eyes snapped open and her heart thumped. Where am I? She thrust her hand under her pillow. Panic rose when she could not find her knife. She curled up in a ball and scooched against the corner of the bulkhead. The smell hit her first—rocket fuel, wet paint. Then the utter silence. Her breathing calmed as it all came back to her. The shuttle. Master Skywalker.
The chronometer on the wall glowed 0400 in blue digits. Still on military time. She sighed. No chance I'm getting back to sleep. Too bad I can't go for a run. Guess I can eat breakfast and clean this ronto pen. She chuckled. Who would have thought I would ever volunteer for sanitation detail? If only the guys could see me now.
Old habits die hard, though. After breakfast, she located the cleaning supplies in the equipment locker where R2-D2 was charging. With a bucket and a scrub brush, she attacked the refresher unit.
When Naluma finished the shower, she moved into the head. Her stomach churned at the putrid smell. Now she knew why even Master Skywalker had cautioned her. After a couple of hours of scrubbing and many refills of her bucket, it was clean enough that even a senator could use it without cringing.
Naluma devoted the next bucket to the deck—from the galley to the cockpit. He must be a sloppy cook—what is this stuff on the galley floor? She scrubbed harder before moving to the jump seats. Ugh, what is underneath this cable hook? Gross! Didn't they clean this the last time someone spewed in here?
By the time she had reached the last corner of the main deck, Master Skywalker banged his gear locker in his quarters.
He greeted her from his door. "Good morning, Naluma."
She shot to attention and saluted him with scrub brush still in hand. "Good morning, Master Skywalker."
"At ease, Padawan."
She transitioned into the military parade rest position.
He grinned. "Relax, Naluma. And you can call me 'Luke.'" He nodded at the scrub brush in her hand. "Carry on."
"Yes, Master Luke."
"No, just 'Luke.'"
"Whatever you say, master." Grinning, she returned to the deck.
Luke grabbed some cereal from the galley with blue milk. He stood in the galley hatch munching on his breakfast. "Thanks for cleaning up in here, but I didn't expect you to do it."
"Yeah, but my military training wouldn't allow me to leave it like that." Naluma looked up from her work. "Plus, what else was there to do? Can't leave the shuttle."
