by Alex Wheeler
Luke jumped first, hoping the beast wouldn't be waiting for him. Holding his breath, he dived down through a wide underwater tunnel, trusting it would lead him back up to the surface. But instead, it released him into the open sea. Luke looked up, but he was too deep to even see the surface. Everywhere he looked, the world was only water.
A tightening in his chest made him realize he'd be out of air soon. He'd only recently learned how to swim. But even a champion swimmer wouldn't be able to hold his breath long enough to make it up to the surface. He had no choice but to turn back the way he'd come. Back to the cave.
Luke burst out of the water with no breath to spare. He drew in several lungfuls of the clammy cave air, grateful to breathe again. The pilot pulled himself back up onto the rocks next to Luke, not breathing nearly as hard. At least the water had washed away most of the slime.
"It must be an underwater sea cave," the pilot said. "An air pocket deep underwater. No way we'll make it back up there on our own. Not alive, at least."
"So that's it?" Luke said, frustrated. "We're trapped here forever? Why didn't that thing just eat us? Why dump us here to wait for us to starve to death?"
"I don't know why we're here, but I think we have more pressing concerns."
"What?" Luke followed the pilot's gaze, hoping he'd found another way out.
But the pilot wasn't looking at an escape route. He was looking at a large pile wedged into a niche in the cave. It was a heap of garbage. Seaweed, decaying sea grass, rotted fruit cores, ragged strips of plasteel, and lying on top—
Luke looked away, horrified. "Is that…?"
"Grish B'reen," the pilot said. "Or at least…it was."
The Chistori was dead. His body, or what was left of it, had been torn to pieces. And it looked like they'd been partially…digested.
"I don't think that beast brought us here to die," the pilot said. "I think this is its nest and it's keeping us around until it's hungry again. Like the cavern spiders of Dathomir. I think it likes to snack. And that means when dinnertime comes around…"
"We better not be here anymore," Luke said, glancing back and forth between the water and the Chistori's remains. "One way or another."
CHAPTER NINE
"Calm down, you hairy oaf!" Han shouted at Chewbacca, who was howling with sorrow and rage. He shook his head. Was there anything more pathetic than a weeping Wookiee? "Luke's gone," he said, choking on the words. "There's nothing we can do about that. We have to focus on saving ourselves."
Chewbacca let out a few more snuffling hoots, but he followed Han deeper into the research station. According to the map, they weren't far from the docking bay. If they found a working ship, they'd be off the planet in no time. If not…well, Han decided not to think about that until he had to.
Just like he wouldn't think about Luke, swallowed up by that giant beast. Gone forever. All because Han had turned his back for a moment, had let Luke die.
Focus, Han reminded himself angrily. Escape first, guilt later.
They stuck to the plan, crept through the dark corridors, eyes and ears peeled for anything out of the ordinary. For slurping tentacles, for gnashing teeth, for drops of water spattering to the floor. Han gripped his blaster almost hoping that the creature would find them. It had taken Luke—and for that, it deserved to die.
But the station was silent, the corridors empty. Their footsteps echoed. Their breath fogged in the chill air. It began to seem like they were wandering in circles, like they would be trapped in the hollow station forever. They rounded a corner, and there it was: the docking bay.
"Ships!" Han cried. Of course, from the look of things, they barely deserved the name. But he knew from experience that you couldn't judge a ship by its rusty frame. Plenty of fools had underestimated the Millennium Falcon.
The Kaminoans had left behind only their oldest, most battle-scarred ships, but at least a handful of them looked to be spaceworthy. Han spotted two Howlrunners with minimal scorching on the hull. Behind them, coated in grime, was an ARC-170 fighter, a distant ancestor of the Rebel X-wings. Those hadn't been flown since the Clone Wars, and rumor had it they'd been the ship of choice for the Republic's top pilots. Han had always wanted to take one for a spin. He didn't know what a ship like this would be doing way out on Kamino, but he wasn't about to let the opportunity go to waste.
Han jerked his head toward one of the Howlrunners. "Chewie, you check that one. I'll take the ARC."
It took only moments to figure out the rudimentary control system. The ship wouldn't have the power or the maneuverability of the X-wing, but the hyperdrive was powerful enough to make it back to Yavin 4, and that was all that mattered. He powered up the engines and navigational systems. Everything checked out. System diagnostics didn't indicate any problems. Chewbacca reported the same about the Howlrunner.
"You know what this means don't you, buddy?" Han exclaimed. "We're going home."
Chewbacca barked a mournful reply.
"You're right," Han said quietly. "Some of us are going home."
Sorry, kid, he thought, a silent apology to Luke. Wish you were coming with us.
But Luke would remain on Kamino forever.
They couldn't take off without retrieving R2-D2, even though it meant risking another face-to-face with the dripping sea monster. They made it back to the central computer terminal safely. There was just one problem: R2-D2 had plans of his own. And they didn't include the docking bay.
"I said, let's go, you rustbucket!" Han shouted for a third time. But the little astromech droid just beeped and wheeled in exuberant circles. It was like his logic circuits had melted. He beeped again, louder this time, then rolled halfway down the hall before spinning around and returning to Han. His manipulator arm zig-zagged through the air.
Chewbacca growled.
"I know he's trying to tell me something," Han snapped. "I just don't know what." And he wasn't in the mood for guessing games. Maybe the little guy was just upset about Luke being missing. "Come on, pal," he said in a gentler voice, trying not to lose his temper. "Whatever you have to tell us, it can wait."
R2-D2 beeped something that could have been a yes; then he began wheeling speedily down the hall.
"You see that?" Han said triumphantly, grinning at Chewbacca. "You've just got to know how to talk to—hey!"
The astromech droid had turned off the main corridor and was heading down a dark, narrow hallway, away from the docking bay.
"Where are you going?" Han shouted. "Come back here!"
If it had been up to him, he'd have ditched the blasted thing. Saving R2-D2 from his own foolishness wasn't worth it. But…
"Luke would never forgive us if we left the little guy behind," Han said wearily. Chewbacca was already down the hall in pursuit of the droid. Han shook his head and followed. "I'm only doing this for you, Luke," he muttered. He could just imagine the look on Luke's face if his precious astromech droid were abandoned on Kamino.
But thinking about that just led him to imagine Leia's face when she heard what had happened to Luke. When she heard what Han had allowed to happen to Luke.
"She'll never forgive me." Han stared at the ground, wishing the sea monster would appear again. Shooting at things always made him feel better.
R2-D2 came to a stop in front of a narrow transparisteel door. He plugged his manipulator arm into the control panel by the door and began fiddling with the circuits. A moment later, the door slid open.
"What are you doing?" A thin, warbling voice echoed through the hallway. "Shut that door! Shut it! Shut it! Noooooooow!" The voice turned into a howl. Without thinking, Han shoved Chewbacca and the droid through the door. It slid closed behind them with a solid clank.
They were in a cramped, narrow space, a little larger than a storage closet. Its shelves and tables were cluttered with test tubes, datapads, and other scientific detritus. And they weren't alone.
A gaunt, aged Kaminoan huddled in a corner of the room, fingers flying furiously across
the keys of a large computer. He was tall and emaciated, with pale, luminescent white skin and bulging gray eyes that filled nearly half of his face. An inverted triangle, his head narrowed at the chin, held erect on a neck that was nearly as long and thin as his spindly arms. He was draped in a tattered lab coat that had faded to a dusty gray. "Who are you?" His voice was creaky and hesitant, like it hadn't been used for quite some time.
"Who are you?" Han shot back.
The Kaminoan stood up, brushing himself off. He stepped in front of a large computer console, blocking the screen from view. "I am Elo Panil." There was a haughty undertone to the words. "This is my research station—which would make you trespassers."
"Don't worry," Han said. "We're on our way out."
Chewbacca barked a suggestion.
Han sighed. On the one hand, this scientist had been working for the Empire. On the other hand, he couldn't leave an innocent man there to die. "You can come with us, if you'd like."
"Come with you?" The Kaminoan gaped at them, wild-eyed. "And leave my research behind? Are you mad?" He shook his head and turned his back to the intruders. Then he stepped aside, revealing the images playing across the wide screen. They were grainy black-and-white shots of the research station. "I've been watching you," the scientist said. He rubbed his spindly fingers nervously along the ridges at the base of his skull. "You're interfering with the experiment. I can't have impurities in my research, I simply can't. That would be very bad indeed."
Han and Chewbacca exchanged incredulous glances. "Experiment?" Han asked. "That's what you call that thing?"
"Certainly. And a successful one, at that." The Kaminoan faced them again, smiling proudly. "Who in the galaxy is more skilled in genetic manipulation? No one. Our clones have proven that, without doubt."
"Without doubt," Han muttered, grimacing. "Congratulations."
The Kaminoan didn't pick up on the sarcasm. "Thank you. So of course when the Empire came to us with their latest request, we were honored. They needed an organic superweapon to squelch resistance in a number of ground wars. So we set to work creating the ultimate beast."
"But things went wrong," Han said, prompting him.
"Wrong? Wrong?" The scientist's voice took on its first hint of real emotion. He was insulted. "To the contrary, they went right. The beast was everything we could have hoped for—and more. We never guessed how deadly such a creature could be. How efficient. And if my other, more timid colleagues preferred to run for their lives, instead of completing our work…"
"So that's where everyone went?" It was just as he'd thought. "They fled…the beast?"
"Some fled. Others…" The Kaminoan flicked a long, spindly hand, as if their fates were of no consequence to him. "Well, they learned firsthand the triumph of our creation."
"And you've been here ever since," Han said. "Watching."
The Kaminoan nodded. "I have food. I have my research. What else could I possibly need?"
How about a straitjacket? Han thought. But he kept his mouth shut.
Pleased to have an audience for his brilliance, the Kaminoan had begun muttering about all the marvelous capacities he'd built into the beast. "Armored skin. Durasteel piercing claws. Night vision. A venomous sting. The beast can kill a man in seconds, or transport living prisoners, when required. Now, that was a tricky one."
"What was that?" Han asked, suddenly paying attention again. "Prisoner transportation?"
"Of course, of course," the Kaminoan said eagerly. "A prickly problem indeed. The ultimate weapon is a flexible weapon, yes? The Empire wanted the capacity to capture and transport prisoners alive, when necessary. Difficult, yes? Not so difficult, as it turns out. Maybe creatures deliver their food to the nest intact, feasting on it at leisure. Or offering it as a communal food source. Brillizards, tropotaurs, the cavern spiders of Dathomir—"
"Enough!" Han exclaimed. "You mean when the beast eats someone, they don't die?"
"Not always, no," the Kaminoan said. "Some prey is transported alive in the creature's stomach to the feeding ground."
"The beast swallowed my friend," Han said, hardly daring to hope. "Do you think…he could still be alive?"
There was a long pause.
"Possible," the Kaminoan said finally.
Chewbacca let out a joyous howl.
"Of course, the delivery mechanism was never quite perfected. We had certain problems with suffocation. And acidic decomposition."
Chewbacca released another howl, this one less enthused.
"Look on the bright side," the Kaminoan said reassuringly. "At least if your friend died in transit, he won't be alive when the beast begins to feed."
Han wanted to throttle the scientist. "That's our friend you're talking about," he said. "What's wrong with you?"
"The only thing wrong with me is that you're interrupting my research," the Kaminoan said.
R2-D2 beeped.
"You're right, we're wasting time," Han said. "Look, we're going to go rescue our friend, and then we're leaving this planet. We can take you along, if you want."
"All I want is to be left alone," the scientist said, turning his back on them again.
"Suit yourself." Han slammed a fist into the control panel, and the door slid open.
"I'd advise you to forget your friend," the Kaminoan said, hunching over his computer. "He's lost to you."
"Which means you don't know where the sea monster would've taken him," Han said.
"Of course not," the Kaminoan straightened. "My creation is far too brilliant to let anyone know where its lair is located."
"Well, we're not going anywhere without Luke," Han said. "We arrived together; we'll leave together."
The Kaminoan shook with a harsh, ragged chuckle. "You'll die together."
Han shot him one last sour glance before the door slipped shut. "Better than dying alone."
CHAPTER TEN
Div dumped his blaster in disgust. Maybe the seawater had flooded it; maybe something corrosive in the creature's innards had damaged it. Either way, it no longer worked. They were weaponless. And trapped. But not helpless.
Div never allowed himself to be helpless.
"That thing could be back soon," he told Luke, who was gazing into the water as if it would yield the secret of their salvation. "There must be something around here we can turn into a weapon." He started sifting through the damp, moss-covered rocks, careful to keep his back to the pile of debris and Chistori remains. He hadn't let himself wonder about what had happened to Clea's body. Maybe the beast only saved its food after it had been fully sated by an earlier meal Maybe Clea's death had saved their lives.
Or maybe she was there after all, resting in pieces, beneath Grish.
Div had never thought of himself as a squeamish person. And something might be buried in the detritus that could serve as a weapon. Grish's blaster might even have made it through intact. But Div just couldn't bring himself to look. Not yet. "Well?" he snapped at Luke. "You going to stand there and daydream, or you going to help me find a weapon?"
Luke jerked his eyes away from the water. "When that thing comes back, I'll be ready." He pulled a slim gray rod from beneath his coat. A beam of blue light blazed from the base.
Div's eyes widened. He felt all his breath sucked out of him, like he was back in the creature's belly again. And in an instant, he was on top of Luke, his hand around the Rebel's throat. The lightsaber dropped to the ground and rolled a few feet away.
"Get off me!" Luke shouted, but Div only tightened his hold. He dragged Luke off the ground and pinned him to the cave wall, banging his head against the rocks. "Where'd you get it?" he growled. "The lightsaber?"
"It's mine," Luke gasped, trying to suck in more air. Div's fingers tightened around his windpipe.
"The truth," Div whispered harshly. "Jedi leave their lightsabers behind only in death. So are you a thief or a murderer? Or both?"
Luke stopped his feeble attempts to escape. Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut an
d stretched a hand toward the lightsaber, Div watched him for a moment in disbelief. Was the Rebel pilot actually trying to summon the lightsaber? Was he trying to access…the Force?
"One more time," Div said, watching Luke carefully. He would recognize a lie when he saw it. "Where did you find the Jedi weapon?"
"My father," Luke choked out. "It belonged to my father."
Div searched Luke's face. The Rebel's expression was as sincere as his voice. But Div didn't need the confirmation. He knew it was the truth. Maybe he'd known since the first time he'd seen Luke, that moment in the lab when Luke had disappeared inside himself. The truth was in the way Luke moved, the way he held himself. And when Div released him, the truth was in the way Luke snatched the lightsaber from the ground and held it to himself. After checking it for damage, he activated the blade and faced Div.
His grip was clumsy, his stance unbalanced, but there was no mistaking it: This was Luke's rightful weapon.
Which could mean only one thing.
"This lightsaber belonged to my father, and now it belongs to me," Luke said, his tone a warning.
Weapon or not, Div could have disarmed him easily. But he had no desire to do so. Not anymore. "Your father was a Jedi," Div said quietly. It wasn't a question.
Luke nodded. "And so am I."
The young man actually sounded proud.
"All you are is a blasted fool," Div spat, "if you think being a Jedi is anything other than a death sentence."
Luke advanced with the lightsaber. Div held up his hands. "No need," he said calmly. "You have nothing to fear from me. But out there…" He gestured to the water, to the wider galaxy, where a man would have to be insane to label himself a Jedi. "You have no idea what kind of misery you're going to attract."
"You know about the Jedi?" Luke asked searchingly with a hopeful note in his voice.
"No."
"But you said—"
"I know only what everyone else knows," Div said tersely. "The Jedi are dead and gone. All of them."
"Not all of them," Luke said.
