and held up one finger as if an idea had just come to him. "Why don't you give your uncle a hand in the cargo hold while I finish up here." His roguish grin was even more lopsided than usual.
Lowbacca wondered what the smile meant and why his uncle should still need his help with the cargo. Sometimes humans were very difficult to understand. With a shrug, he headed toward the cargo bay.
"Excuse me, Master Lowbacca," Em Teedee piped up, "but will you be needing my translating services at this time?"
Lowbacca growled a negative.
"Very well, sir," Em Teedee said. "In that case, would you mind if I put myself into a brief shutdown cycle? If you should require my assistance for any reason, please do not hesitate to interrupt my rest cycle."
Lowie assured Em Teedee that the miniature droid would be the first to know if he needed anything from him.
He found his uncle clambering across a mountain of crates and bundles, checking the securing straps. Apparently Lando Calris-sian needed a good many supplies for his new mining operation.
Even in the crowded cargo hold, he breathed deeply, enjoying the mix of familiar smells: speeder fuel, machined metal, lubri cants, space rations, and Wookiee sweat-enough to make him homesick for the treetop cities of Kashyyyk. He would have little access to speeders or computers while he studied at the Jedi academy-with the exception, of course, of Em Teedee. But perhaps he could console himself occasionally by climbing the jungle trees and thinking of home.
Maybe he would do that after the Falcon took off, but for now there was work to do.
Lowie asked his uncle what still needed to be done, and began to check the webbing on a pile of cargo that Chewbacca indicated. The straps and webbing were loose, and so was the cloth