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...
❹ "When You Say Nothing At All"—Allison Krauss and Keith Whitley Radio Mix
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❶ Luke thudded down the steep incline of the entry ramp for the shuttle. At least the landing gear didn't get damaged. Don't know what we're going to do with the starboard wing, though. Not a whole bunch of spare parts lying around.
Above him Naluma inspected the damage to the wing. "Artoo, hand me that hydrospanner, will you?"
The blue-and-silver droid rolled across the top of the shuttle and brought her the tool. His beeps seeming cheerful for once.
"What do you think, Naluma?"
"Oh, she's fixable." The smile she shot him set his heart thumping. "Might take a rotation to do it, though. Fleet maintenance will need to fabricate a new skin for the fin."
She tucked into a roll and jumped down beside him, her shirt flapping open. Luke perked a brow when he caught a glimpse of silver sequins on her tank that peeked through her tunic neck. The sweet scent of her perfume made his head swim. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
"Master Luke, everything okay?"
He opened his eyes. "What? Oh, yeah." He averted his eyes to the book he'd forgotten he was carrying. The thin volume with a distressed leather binding trembled in his hands. "Here. Thought this might help."
Naluma opened the first pages, being careful not to tear the fragile parchment. The faded script and twisted fanciful letters made it difficult to read.
"Toward the end there's something about Jedi healers. I couldn't make much sense out of it, though."
"Thank you. I'll devote my studies to this."
Luke rested his hands on his hips and cleared his throat. "Well, I wish you'd devote more of your studies to your flight lessons."
"I already passed my ground school quals, Master."
"But as soon as you were in the cockpit, you forget the first rule of piloting."
Her face flushed, and her mouth formed an O.
"Please remind me what that is, Padawan."
For a long moment, she studied him and formed her answer. Luke waited, wondering if she would control her fear, the real problem.
"The pilot is responsible for the ship, not the passengers, not the cargo, not the crew. The ship and only the ship."
"Yes, master."
Her desire to lash out at him buffed against his mind, but Naluma's pressed lips and tense muscles told him that she struggled with her restraint.
"Now that that's clear, let's go blow off some steam. I think we both need some R & R. Artoo can start the repairs." He shot her a lopsided grin.
