Chapter Text
Bespin’s librarian was an elderly man in his eightieth decade with tufts of white hair that erupted like smoke from his head. He dawdled at the entrance to the library underneath the grand ceremonial visage of General Iblis as students poured from hover car transports.
‘Professor Chronotis,’ Luke calls from across the acrylic floor causing the librarian to look up from where he had finished assisting with homework brought on a datapad.
‘What can I do for you today young man?’ The librarian pushes his thin frames further up his bony nose.
‘I was wondering what data you had on Grand Admirals.’
‘Admirals?’ The Professor asked slightly blankly. Then his face clears up somewhat. ‘You know, I do remember Clare back in Cambridge saying something along those lines back in Bristol, the great Imperial Library at Constantinople had something to that effect or so and so. You wouldn't believe the books they had.’ His face then acquires a dreamy look.
He rambles on for a bit longer before Luke places a gentle hand on his tweed sleeve and gently redirects the topic to agriculture, a topic that the Professor takes up with much enthusiasm.
‘Ah yes, the Noghri race. Lovely chaps, did you know I invited them over the faculty party? Speaking of the tea, I don’t know where I put it. Not sure if it was the second or third shelf or the dimensional stabiliser…’ He says with a slightly unclear smile.
An alarmingly high pitched warbles from inside Iblis’ statue.
The Professor looks at it in dismay.
‘It’s ok,’ Luke says to comfort the startled librarian, ‘It’s nothing that Han or I can’t patch up.’