Trilogy

by George Lucas

  Luke was momentarily taken aback. All his energies up till now had been concentrated on persuading Solo and Chewbacca to aid in a rescue attempt. That accomplished, Luke became aware he had no idea how to proceed. He had grown used to old Ben and Solo giving directions. Now the next move was up to him.

  His eyes were caught by several metal circlets dangling from the belt of Solo’s armor. “Give me those binders and tell Chewbacca to come over here.”

  Solo handed Luke the thin but quite unbreakable cuffs and relayed the request to Chewbacca. The Wookiee lumbered over and stood waiting next to Luke.

  “Now, I’m going to put these on you,” Luke began, starting to move behind the Wookiee with the cuffs, “and—”

  Chewbacca made a sound low in his throat, and Luke jumped in spite of himself. “Now,” he began again, “Han is going to put these on you and …” He sheepishly handed the binders to Solo, uncomfortably aware of the enormous anthropoid’s glowing eyes on him.

  Solo sounded amused as he moved forward. “Don’t worry, Chewie. I think I know what he has in mind.”

  The cuffs barely fit around the thick wrists. Despite his partner’s seeming confidence in the plan, the Wookiee wore a worried, frightened look as the restraints were activated.

  “Luke, sir.” Luke looked over at Threepio. “Pardon me for asking, but, ah—what should Artoo and I do if someone discovers us here in your absence?”

  “Hope they don’t have blasters,” Solo replied.

  Threepio’s tone indicated he didn’t find the answer humorous. “That isn’t very reassuring.”

  Solo and Luke were too engrossed in their coming expedition to pay much attention to the worried robot. They adjusted their helmets. Then, with Chewbacca wearing a half-real downcast expression, they started off along the corridor where Ben Kenobi had disappeared.

  IX

  AS THEY TRAVELED FARTHER AND deeper into the bowels of the gigantic station, they found it increasingly difficult to maintain an air of casual indifference. Fortunately, those who might have sensed some nervousness on the part of the two armored troopers would regard it as only natural, considering their huge, dangerous Wookiee captive. Chewbacca also made it impossible for the two young men to be as inconspicuous as they would have liked.

  The farther they traveled, the heavier the traffic became. Other soldiers, bureaucrats, technicians, and mechanicals bustled around them. Intent on their own assignments, they ignored the trio completely, only a few of the humans sparing the Wookiee a curious glance. Chewbacca’s morose expression and the seeming confidence of his captors reassured the inquisitive.

  Eventually they reached a wide bank of elevators. Luke breathed a sigh of relief. The computer-controlled transport ought to be capable of taking them just about anywhere on the station in response to a verbal command.

  There was a nervous second when a minor official raced to get aboard. Solo gestured sharply, and the other, without voicing a protest, shifted to the next elevator tube in line.

  Luke studied the operating panel, then tried to sound at once knowledgeable and important as he spoke into the pickup grid. Instead, he sounded nervous and scared, but the elevator was a pure-response mechanism, not programmed to differentiate the appropriateness of emotions conveyed vocally. So the door slid shut and they were on their way. After what felt like hours but was in reality only minutes, the door opened and they stepped out into the security area.

  It had been Luke’s hope they would discover something like the old-fashioned barred cells of the kind used on Tatooine in towns like Mos Eisley. Instead, they saw only narrow ramps bordering a bottomless ventilation shaft. These walkways, several levels of them, ran parallel to smooth curving walls which held faceless detention cells. Alert-looking guards and energy gates seemed to be everywhere they looked.

  Uncomfortably aware that the longer they stood frozen in place, the sooner someone was bound to come over and ask unanswerable questions, Luke searched frantically for a course of action.

  “This isn’t going to work,” Solo whispered, leaning toward him.

  “Why didn’t you say so before?” a frustrated, frightened Luke shot back.

  “I think I did. I—”

  “Shssh!”

  Solo shut up as Luke’s worst fears were realized. A tall, grim-looking officer approached them. He frowned as he examined the silent Chewbacca.

  “Where are you two going with this—thing?”

  Chewbacca snarled at the remark, and Solo quieted him with a hasty jab in the ribs. A panicky Luke found himself replying almost instinctively. “Prisoner transfer from block TS-138.”

  The officer looked puzzled. “I wasn’t notified. I’ll have to clear it.”

  Turning, the man walked to a small console nearby and began entering his request. Luke and Han hurriedly surveyed the situation, their gaze traveling from alarms, energy gates, and remote photosensors to the three other guards stationed in the area.

  Solo nodded to Luke as he unfastened Chewbacca’s cuffs. Then he whispered something to the Wookiee. An ear-splitting howl shook the corridor as Chewbacca threw up both hands, grabbing Solo’s rifle from him.

  “Look out!” a seemingly terrified Solo shouted. “It’s loose. It’ll rip us all apart!”

  Both he and Luke had darted clear of the rampaging Wookiee, 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 Wookiee. 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 be 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 Wookiee 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.

  Han could almost smell the suspicion at the other end. What to say? He spoke more eloquently with the business end of a pistol.

  “Negative—negative. We have an energy leak. Give us a few minutes to lock it down. Large leak—very dangerous.”

  “Weapon malfunction, energy leak … Who is this? What’s your operating—?”

  Pointing his pistol at the panels, Solo blew the instrumentation to silent scraps. “It was a dumb conversation anyway,” he murmured. Turning, he shouted down the corridor, “Hurry it up, Luke! We’re going to have company.”

  Luke heard, but he was absorbed in running from one cell to the next and studying the numbers glowing above each doorway. The cell 2187, it appeared, did not exist. But it did, and he found it just as he was about to give up and try the next level down.

  For a long moment he examined the featureless convex metal wall. Turning his pistol to maximum and hoping it wouldn’t melt in his hand before
it broke through, he opened fire on the door. When the weapon became too hot to hold, he tossed it from hand to hand. As he did so the smoke had time to clear, and he saw with some surprise that the door had been blown away.

  Peering through the smoke with an uncomprehending look on her face was the young woman whose portrait Artoo Detoo had projected in a garage on Tatooine several centuries ago, or so it seemed.

  She was even more beautiful than her image, Luke decided, staring dazedly at her. “You’re even—more beautiful—than I—”

  Her look of confusion and uncertainty was replaced by first puzzlement and then impatience. “Aren’t you a little short for a storm trooper?” she finally commented.

  “What? Oh—the uniform.” He removed the helmet, regaining a little composure at the same time. “I’ve come to rescue you. I’m Luke Skywalker.”

  “I beg your pardon?” she said politely.

  “I said, I’ve come to rescue you. Ben Kenobi is with me. We’ve got your two ’droids—”

  The uncertainty was instantly replaced by hope at the mention of the oldster’s name. “Ben Kenobi!” She looked around Luke, ignoring him as she searched for the Jedi. “Where is he? Obi-wan!”

  Governor Tarkin watched as Darth Vader paced rapidly back and forth in the otherwise empty conference room. Finally the Dark Lord paused, glancing around as though a great bell only he could hear had rung somewhere close by.

  “He is here,” Vader stated unemotionally.

  Tarkin looked startled. “Obi-wan Kenobi! That’s impossible. What makes you think so?”

  “A stirring in the force, of a kind I’ve felt only in the presence of my old master. It is unmistakable.”

  “Surely—surely he must be dead by now.”

  Vader hesitated, his assurance suddenly gone. “Perhaps … It is gone now. It was only a brief sensation.”

  “The Jedi are extinct,” declared Tarkin positively. “Their fire was quenched decades ago. You, my friend, are all that’s left of their ways.”

  A comlink buzzed softly for attention. “Yes?” Tarkin acknowledged.

  “We have an emergency alert in detention block AA-23.”

  “The Princess!” Tarkin yelped, jumping to his feet. Vader whirled, trying to stare through the walls.

  “I knew it—Obi-wan is here. I knew I could not mistake a stirring in the force of such power.”

  “Put all sections on alert,” Tarkin ordered through the comlink. Then he turned to stare at Vader. “If you’re right, he must not be allowed to escape.”

  “Escape may not be Obi-wan Kenobi’s intention,” Vader replied, struggling to control his emotions. “He is the last of the Jedi—and the greatest. The danger he presents to us must not be underestimated—yet only I can deal with him.” His head snapped around to stare fixedly at Tarkin. “Alone.”

  Luke and Leia had started back up the corridor when a series of blinding explosions ripped the walkway ahead of them. Several troopers had tried coming through the elevator, only to be crisped one after another by Chewbacca. Disdaining the elevators, they had blasted a gaping hole through a wall. The opening was too large for Solo and the Wookiee to cover completely. In twos and threes, the Imperials were working their way into the detention block.

  Retreating down the walkway, Han and Chewbacca encountered Luke and the Princess. “We can’t go back that way!” Solo told them, his face flushed with excitement and worry.

  “No, it looks like you’ve managed to cut off our only escape route,” Leia agreed readily. “This is a detention area, you know. They don’t build them with multiple exits.”

  Breathing heavily, Solo turned to look her up and down. “Begging your forgiveness, Your Highness,” he said sarcastically, “but maybe you’d prefer it back in your cell?” She looked away, her face impassive.

  “There’s got to be another way out,” Luke muttered, pulling a small transmitter unit from his belt and carefully adjusting the frequency: “See Threepio … See Three-pio!”

  A familiar voice responded with gratifying speed. “Yes, sir?”

  “We’ve been cut off here. Are there any other ways out of the detention area—anything at all?”

  Static crackled over the tiny grid as Solo and Chewbacca kept the Imperial troops bottled up at the other end of the walkway.

  “What was that …? I didn’t copy.”

  Back in the gantry office Artoo Detoo beeped and whistled frantically as Threepio adjusted controls, fighting to clear the awkward transmission. “I said, all systems have been alerted to your presence, sir. The main entry seems to be the only way in or out of the cell block.” He pressed instruments, and the view on the nearby readouts changed steadily. “All other information on your section is restricted.”

  Someone began banging on the locked door to the office—evenly at first and then, when no response was forthcoming from within, more insistently.

  “Oh, no!” Threepio groaned.

  The smoke in the cell corridor was now so intense that it was difficult for Solo and Chewbacca to pick their targets. That was fortunate inasmuch as they were now badly outnumbered and the smoke confused the Imperials’ fire with equal thoroughness.

  Every so often one of the soldiers would attempt to move closer, only to stand exposed as he penetrated the smoke. Under the accurate fire of the two smugglers, he would rapidly join the accumulating mass of motionless figures on the rampway flooring.

  Energy bolts continued to ricochet wildly through the block as Luke moved close to Solo.

  “There isn’t any other way out,” he yelled over the deafening roar of concentrated fire.

  “Well, they’re closing in on us. What do we do now?”

  “This is some rescue,” an irritated voice complained from behind them. Both men turned to see a thoroughly disgusted Princess eyeing them with regal disapproval. “When you came in here, didn’t you have a plan for getting out?”

  Solo nodded toward Luke. “He’s the brains, sweetheart.”

  Luke managed an embarrassed grin and shrugged helplessly. He turned to help return fire, but before he could do so, the Princess had snatched the pistol from his hand.

  “Hey!”

  Luke stared as she moved along the wall, finally locating a small grate nearby. She pointed the pistol at it and fired.

  Solo gazed at her in disbelief. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “It looks like it’s up to me to save our skins. Get into that garbage chute, flyboy!”

  While the others looked on in amazement, she jumped feet first into the opening and disappeared. Chewbacca rumbled threateningly, but Solo slowly shook his head.

  “No, Chewie, I don’t want you to rip her apart. I’m not sure about her yet. Either I’m beginning to like her, or I’m going to kill her myself.” The Wookiee snorted something else, and Solo yelled back at him, “Go on in, you furry oaf! I don’t care what you smell. This is no time to go dainty on me.”

  Shoving the reluctant Wookiee toward the tiny opening, Solo helped jam the massive bulk through. As soon as he disappeared, the Corellian followed him in. Luke fired off a last series of blasts, more in the hope of creating a covering smoke than hitting anything, slid into the chute, and was gone.

  Not wanting to incur further losses in such a confined space, the pursuing soldiers had momentarily halted to await the arrival of reinforcements and heavier weapons. Besides, they had their quarry trapped, and despite their dedication, none of them were anxious to die needlessly.

  The chamber Luke tumbled into was dimly lit. Not that the light was needed to discern its contents. He smelled the decay long before he was dumped into it. Unadorned except for the concealed illuminants, the garbage room was at least a quarter full of slimy muck, much of which had already achieved a state of decomposition sufficient to wrinkle Luke’s nose.

  Solo was stumbling around the edge of the room, slipping and sinking up to his knees in the uncertain footing in an attempt to locate an exit. All he found was a sma
ll, thick hatchway which he grunted and heaved to pry open. The hatchcover refused to budge.

  “The garbage chute was a wonderful idea,” he told the Princess sardonically, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “What an incredible smell you’ve discovered. Unfortunately, we can’t ride out of here on a drifting odor, and there doesn’t seem to be any other exit. Unless I can get this hatch open.”

  Stepping back, he pulled his pistol and fired at the cover. The bolt promptly went howling around the room as everyone sought cover in the garbage. A last glance and the bolt detonated almost on top of them.

  Looking less dignified by the moment, Leia was the first to emerge from the pungent cover. “Put that thing away,” she told Solo grimly, “or you’re going to get us all killed.”

  “Yes, Your Worship,” Solo muttered in snide supplication. He made no move to reholster his weapon as he glanced back up toward the open chute above. “It won’t take long for them to figure out what happened to us. We had things well under control—until you led us down here.”

  “Sure you did,” she shot back, brushing refuse from her hair and shoulders. “Oh, well, it could be worse.… ”

  As if in reply, a piercing, horrible moaning filled the room. It seemed to come from somewhere beneath them. Chewbacca let out a terrified yowl of his own and tried to flatten himself against a wall. Luke drew his own pistol and peered hard at various clumps of debris, but saw nothing.

  “What was that?” Solo asked.

  “I’m not too sure.” Luke suddenly jumped, looking down and behind him. “Something just moved past me, I think. Watch out—”

  With shocking suddenness Luke disappeared straight down into the garbage.

  “It’s got Luke!” the Princess shouted. “It took him under!” Solo looked around frantically for something to shoot at.

  As abruptly as he had vanished, Luke reappeared—and so did part of something else. A thick whitish tentacle was wrapped tight around his throat.