星球大战第九章(2)
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Both he and Luke had darted clear of the rampaging Wookie, pulled out their pistols, and were blasting away at him. Their reaction was excellent, their enthusiasm undeniable, and their aim execrable. Not a single shot came close to the dodging Wookie. Instead, they blasted automatic cameras, energy-rate controls, and the three dumbfounded guards. At this point it occurred to the officer in charge that the abominable aim of the two soldiers was a bit too selectively efficient. He was preparing to jab the general alarm when a burst from Luke’s pistol caught him in the midsection and he fell without a word to the gray deck. Solo rushed to the open comlink speaker, which was screeching anxious questions about what was going on. Apparently there were audio as well as visual links between this detention station and elsewhere. Ignoring the barrage of alternate threats and queries, he checked the readout set in the panel nearby. "We’ve got to find out which cell this Princess of yours is in. There must a dozen levels and—Here it is. Cell 2187. Go on—Chewie and I’ll hold them here." Luke nodded once and was racing down the narrow walkway. After gesturing for the Wookie to take up a position where he could cover the elevators, Solo took a deep breath and responded to the unceasing calls from the comlink. "Everything’s under control," he said into the pickup, sounding reasonably official. "Situation normal." "It didn’t sound like that," a voice snapped back in a no-nonsense tone. "What happened?" "Uh, well, one of the guards experienced a weapon malfunction," Solo stammered, his temporary officialese lapsing into nervousness. "No problem now— we’re all fine, thanks. How about you?" "We’re sending a squad up," the voice announced suddenly. |
