Trilogy

by George Lucas

  Indeed, the big Wookiee was waving over the heads of the crowd and jabbering loudly in their direction. Speeding their pace, none of the foursome noticed the small, dark-clad thing that had followed them from the transporter lot.

  The creature moved into the doorway and pulled a tiny transmitter from a pouch concealed by its multifold robes. The transmitter looked far too new and modern to be in the grasp of so decrepit a specimen, yet its manipulator was speaking into it with steady assurance.

  Docking bay ninety-four, Luke noted, was no different in appearance from a host of other grandiosely named docking bays scattered throughout Mos Eisley. It consisted mostly of an entrance rampway and an enormous pit gouged from the rocky soil. This served as clearance radii for the effects of the simple antigrav drive which boosted all spacecraft clear of the gravitational field of the planet.

  The mathematics of spacedrive were simple enough even to Luke. Antigrav could operate only when there was a sufficient gravity well to push against—like that of a planet—whereas supralight travel could only take place when a ship was clear of that same gravity. Hence the necessity for the dual-drive system on any extrasystem craft.

  The pit which formed docking bay ninety-four was as shabbily cut and run-down as the majority of Mos Eisley. Its sloping sides were crumbling in places instead of being smoothly fashioned as they were on more populous worlds. Luke felt it formed the perfect setting for the spacecraft Chewbacca was leading them toward.

  That battered ellipsoid which could only loosely be labeled a ship appeared to have been pieced together out of old hull fragments and components discarded as unusable by other craft. The wonder of it, Luke mused, was that the thing actually held its shape. Trying to picture this vehicle as spaceworthy would have caused him to collapse in hysteria—were the situation not so serious. But to think of traveling to Alderaan in this pathetic …

  “What a piece of junk,” he finally murmured, unable to hide his feelings any longer. They were walking up the rampway toward the open port. “This thing couldn’t possibly make it into hyperspace.”

  Kenobi didn’t comment, but merely gestured toward the port, where a figure was coming to meet them.

  Either Solo had supernaturally acute hearing, or else he was used to the reaction the sight of the Millennium Falcon produced in prospective passengers. “She may not look like much,” he confessed as he approached them, “but she’s all go. I’ve added a few unique modifications to her myself. In addition to piloting, I like to tinker. She’ll make point five factors beyond lightspeed.”

  Luke scratched his head as he tried to reassess the craft in view of its owner’s claims. Either the Corellian was the biggest liar this side of the galactic center, or there was more to this vessel than met the eye. Luke thought back once more to old Ben’s admonition never to trust surface impressions, and decided to reserve judgment on the ship and its pilot until after he had watched them in operation.

  Chewbacca had lingered behind at the docking-bay entrance. Now he rushed up the ramp, a hairy whirlwind, and blabbered excitedly at Solo. The pilot regarded him coolly, nodding from time to time, then barked a brief reply. The Wookiee charged into the ship, pausing only to urge everyone to follow.

  “We seem to be a bit rushed,” Solo explained cryptically, “so if you’ll hurry aboard, we’ll be off.”

  Luke was about to venture some questions, but Kenobi was already prodding him up the ramp. The ’droids followed.

  Inside, Luke was slightly startled to see the bulky Chewbacca squirm and fight his way into a pilot’s chair which, despite modifications, was still overwhelmed by his massive form. The Wookiee flipped several tiny switches with digits seemingly too big for the task. Those great paws drifted with surprising grace over the controls.

  A deep throbbing started somewhere within the ship as the engines were activated. Luke and Ben began strapping themselves into the vacant seats in the main passageway.

  Outside the docking-bay entrance a long, leathery snout protruded from dark folds of cloth, and somewhere in the depths to either side of that imposing proboscis, eyes stared intently. They turned, along with the rest of the head, as a squad of eight Imperial troops rushed up. Perhaps not surprisingly, they headed straight for the enigmatic figure who whispered something to the lead trooper and gestured to the docking bay.

  The information must have been provocative. Activating their weapons and raising them to firing position, the troops charged en masse down the docking-bay entrance.

  * * *

  A glint of light on moving metal caught Solo’s eyes as the unwelcome outlines of the first troops showed themselves. Solo thought it unlikely they would pause to engage in casual conversation. His suspicion was confirmed before he could open his mouth to protest their intrusion, as several dropped to their knees and opened fire on him. Solo ducked back inside, turning to yell forward.

  “Chewie—deflector shields, quick! Get us out of here!”

  A throaty roar of acknowledgment came back to him.

  Drawing his own pistol, Solo managed to snap off a couple of bursts from the comparative safety of the hatchway. Seeing that their quarry was neither helpless nor comatose, the exposed troops dove for cover.

  The low throbbing rose to a whine, then to a deafening howl as Solo’s hand came down on the quick-release button. Immediately the overhead hatchcover slammed shut.

  As the retreating troops raced out of the docking-bay entrance, the ground was trembling steadily. They ran smack into a second squad, which had just arrived in response to the rapidly spreading emergency call. One of the soldiers, gesticulating wildly, tried to explain to the newly arrived ranking officer what had happened back in the bay.

  As soon as the panting trooper had finished, the officer whipped out a compact communicator and shouted into it, “Flight deck … they’re trying to escape! Send everything you’ve got after this ship.”

  All across Mos Eisley, alarms began to sound, spreading out from docking bay ninety-four in concentric circles of concern.

  Several soldiers scouring one alleyway reacted to the citywide alarm at the same time as they saw the small freighter lift gracefully into the clear blue sky above Mos Eisley. It shrank to a pinpoint before any of them thought to bring a weapon to bear.

  Luke and Ben were already undoing their acceleration straps as Solo walked past them, moving toward the cockpit with the easy, loose-limbed stride of the experienced spacer. Once forward, he fell rather than sat in the pilot’s seat and immediately began checking readouts and gauges. In the seat next to him Chewbacca was growling and grunting like a poorly tuned speeder engine. He turned from studying his own instruments long enough to jab a massive finger at the tracking screen.

  Solo gave it a quick glance, then turned irritably to his own panel. “I know, I know … looks like two, maybe three destroyers. Somebody certainly dislikes our passengers. Sure picked ourselves a hot one this time. Try to hold them off somehow until I can finish the programming for the supralight jump. Angle the deflectors for maximum shielding.”

  With those instructions he ceased conversing with the huge Wookiee as his hands flew over the computer input terminals. Solo did not even turn around when a small cylindrical shape appeared in the doorway behind him. Artoo Detoo beeped a few remarks, then scurried away.

  Rear scanners showed the baleful lemon eye of Tatooine shrinking rapidly behind them. It wasn’t rapid enough to eliminate the three points of light that indicated the presence of the pursuing Imperial warships.

  Although Solo had ignored Artoo, he turned to acknowledge the entrance of his human passengers. “We’ve got two more coming in from different angles,” he told them, scrutinizing the remorseless instrumentation. “They’re going to try to box up before we can jump. Five ships … What did you two do to attract that kind of company?”

  “Can’t you outrun them?” Luke asked sarcastically, ignoring the pilot’s question. “I thought you said this thing was fast.”

 
; “Watch your mouth, kid, or you’ll find yourself floating home. There’s too many of ’em, for one thing. But, we’ll be safe enough once we’ve made the jump into hyperspace.” He grinned knowingly. “Can’t nobody track another ship accurately at supralight speeds. Plus, I know a few tricks that ought to lose any persistent stick-tights. I wish I’d known you boys were so popular.”

  “Why?” Luke said challengingly. “Would you have refused to take us?”

  “Not necessarily,” the Corellian replied, refusing to be baited. “But I sure’s hell would’ve boosted your fare.”

  Luke had a retort poised on his lips. It was wiped out as he threw up his arms to ward off a brilliant red flash which gave black space outside the viewport the temporary aspect of the surface of a sun. Kenobi, Solo, and even Chewbacca did likewise, since the proximity of the explosion nearly overrode the phototropic shielding.

  “Here’s where the situation gets interesting,” Solo muttered.

  “How long before you can make the jump?” Kenobi inquired easily, apparently unconcerned that at any second they all might cease to exist.

  “We’re still within the gravitational influence of Tatooine,” came the cool response. “It will be a few minutes yet before the navigation computer can compensate and effect an accurate jump. I could override its decision, but the hyperdrive would likely shred itself. That would give me a nice hold full of scrap metal in addition to you four.”

  “A few minutes,” Luke blurted, staring at the screens. “At the rate they’re gaining …”

  “Traveling through hyperspace isn’t like dusting crops, boy. Ever tried calculating a hyperspace jump?” Luke had to shake his head. “It’s no mean trick. Be nice if we rushed it and passed right through a star or some other friendly spatial phenom like a black hole. That would end our trip real quick.”

  Fresh explosions continued to flare close by despite Chewbacca’s best efforts at evasion. On Solo’s console a red warning light began to flash for attention.

  “What’s that?” Luke wondered nervously.

  “We’re losing a deflector shield,” Solo informed him with the air of a man about to have a tooth pulled. “Better strap yourselves back in. We’re almost ready to make the jump. It could get bad if we take a near-burst at the wrong moment.”

  Back in the main hold area Threepio was already locked tightly into his seat by metal arms stronger then any acceleration straps. Artoo swayed back and forth under the concussion produced by increasingly powerful energy bursts against the ship’s deflectors.

  “Was this trip really necessary?” the tall robot muttered in desperation. “I’d forgotten how much I hate space travel.” He broke off as Luke and Ben appeared and began strapping themselves back into their chairs.

  Oddly, Luke was thinking of a dog he had once owned when an immensely powerful something wrenched at the ship’s hull with the strength of a fallen angel.

  * * *

  Admiral Motti entered the quiet conference room, his face streaked by the linear lights lining the walls. His gaze went to the spot where Governor Tarkin stood before the curved viewscreen, and he bowed slightly. Despite the evidence of the small green gem of a world entered in the screen, he formally announced, “We have entered the Alderaan system. We await your order.”

  The door signaled and Tarkin made a falsely gentle gesture to the admiral. “Wait a moment yet, Motti.”

  The door slid aside and Leia Organa entered, flanked by two armed guards, followed by Darth Vader.

  “I am—” Tarkin began.

  “I know who you are,” she spat, “Governor Tarkin. I should have expected to find you holding Vader’s leash. I thought I recognized your unique stench when I was first brought on board.”

  “Charming to the last,” Tarkin declared in a fashion which suggested he was anything but charmed. “You don’t know how hard I found it to sign the order for your termination.” His expression changed to one of mock sorrow. “Of course, had you cooperated in our investigation, things might be otherwise. Lord Vader has informed me that your resistance to our traditional methods of inquiry—”

  “Torture, you mean,” she countered a trifle shakily.

  “Let us not bandy semantics,” Tarkin smiled.

  “I’m surprised you had the courage to take the responsibility for issuing the order on yourself.”

  Tarkin sighed reluctantly. “I am a dedicated man, and the pleasures I reserve for myself are few. One of them is that before your execution I should like you to be my guest at a small ceremony. It will certify this battle station’s operational status while at the same time ushering in a new era of Imperial technical supremacy. This station is the final link in the new-forged Imperial chain which will bind the million systems of the galactic Empire together once and for all. Your petty Alliance will no longer be of any concern to us. After today’s demonstration no one will dare to oppose Imperial decree, not even the Senate.”

  Organa looked at him with contempt. “Force will not keep the Empire together. Force has never kept anything together for very long. The more you tighten your grip, the more systems will slip through your fingers. You’re a foolish man, Governor. Foolish men often choke to death on their own delusions.”

  Tarkin smiled a death’s-head smile, his face a parchment skull’s. “It will be interesting to see what manner of passing Lord Vader has in mind for you. I am certain it will be worthy of you—and of him.

  “But before you leave us, we must demonstrate the power of this station once and for all, in a conclusive fashion. In a way, you have determined the choice of subject for this demonstration. Since you have proven reluctant to supply us with the location of the rebel stronghold, I have deemed it appropriate to select as an alternate subject your home planet of Alderaan.”

  “No! You can’t! Alderaan is a peaceful world, with no standing armies. You can’t …”

  Tarkin’s eyes gleamed. “You would prefer another target? A military target, perhaps? We’re agreeable … name the system.” He shrugged elaborately. “I grow tired of such games. For the last time, where is the main rebel base?”

  A voice announced over a hidden speaker that they had approached within antigrav range of Alderaan—approximately six planetary diameters. That was enough to accomplish what all of Vader’s infernal devices had failed to.

  “Dantooine,” she whispered, staring at the deck, all pretense at defiance gone now. “They’re on Dantooine.”

  Tarkin let out a slow sigh of satisfaction, then turned to the black figure nearby. “There, you see, Lord Vader? She can be reasonable. One need only frame the question properly to elicit the desired response.” He directed his attention to the other officers. “After concluding our little test here we shall make haste to move on to Dantooine. You may proceed with the operation, gentlemen.”

  It took several seconds for Tarkin’s words, so casually uttered, to penetrate. “What!” Organa finally gasped.

  “Dantooine,” Tarkin explained, examining his fingers, “is too far from the centers of Imperial population to serve as the subject of an effective demonstration. You will understand that for reports of our power to spread rapidly through the Empire we require an obstreperous world more centrally located. Have no fear, though. We will deal with your rebel friends on Dantooine as soon as possible.”

  “But you said …” Organa started to protest.

  “The only words which have meaning are the last ones spoken,” Tarkin declared cuttingly. “We will proceed with the destruction of Alderaan as planned. Then you will enjoy watching with us as we obliterate the Dantooine center of this stupid and futile rebellion.”

  He gestured to the two soldiers flanking her. “Escort her to the principal observation level and,” he smiled, “make certain she is provided with an unobstructed view.”

  VIII

  SOLO WAS BUSILY CHECKING read-outs from gauges and dials in the hold area. Occasionally he would pass a small box across various sensors, study the result, and cl
uck with pleasure.

  “You can stop worrying about your Imperial friends,” he told Luke and Ben. “They’ll never be able to track us now. Told you I’d lose them.”

  Kenobi might have nodded briefly in response, but he was engaged in explaining something to Luke.

  “Don’t everybody thank me at once,” Solo grunted, slightly miffed. “Anyway, navigation computer calculates our arrival in Alderaan orbit at oh-two-hundred. I’m afraid after this little adventure I’ll have to forge a new registration.”

  He returned to his checking, passing in front of a small circular table. The top was covered with small squares lit from beneath, while computer monitors were set into each side. Tiny three-dimensional figures were projected above the tabletop from various squares.

  Chewbacca sat hunched over one side of the table, his chin resting in massive hands. His great eyes glowing and facial whiskers wrinkled upward, he gave every sign of being well pleased with himself.

  At least, he did until Artoo Detoo reached up with a stubby clawed limb across from him and tapped his own computer monitor. One of the figures walked abruptly across the board to a new square and stopped there.

  An expression of puzzlement, then anger crossed the Wookiee’s face as he studied the new configuration. Glaring up and over the table, he vented a stream of abusive gibberish on the inoffensive machine. Artoo could only beep in reply, but Threepio soon interceded on behalf of his less eloquent companion and began arguing with the hulking anthropoid.

  “He executed a fair move. Screaming about it won’t help you.”

  Attracted by the commotion, Solo looked back over his shoulder, frowning slightly. “Let him have it. Your friend’s way ahead anyhow. It’s not wise to upset a Wookiee.”

  “I can sympathize with that opinion, sir,” Threepio countered, “but there is principle at stake here. There are certain standards any sentient creature must hold to. If one compromises them for any reason, including intimidation, then one is abrogating his right to be called intelligent.”