Trilogy

by George Lucas

  Artoo-Detoo, riding in the back of Luke’s X-wing, scanned the passing stars, then addressed his remarks to Luke via the computer scope.

  Luke read the viewscreen interpreter. “Yes, that’s Dagobah, Artoo,” he answered the little robot, then glanced out the cockpit window as the fighter ship began to descend toward the planet’s surface. “Looks a little grim, doesn’t it?”

  Artoo beeped, attempting for one last time to get his master back on a more sensible course.

  “No,” Luke replied, “I don’t want to change my mind about this.” He checked the ship’s monitors and began to feel a bit nervous. “I’m not picking up any cities or technology. Massive life-form readings, though. There’s something alive down there.”

  Artoo was worried, too, and that was translated as an apprehensive inquiry.

  “Yes, I’m sure it’s perfectly safe for droids. Will you take it easy?” Luke was beginning to get annoyed. “We’ll just have to see what happens.”

  He heard a pathetic electronic whimper from the rear of the cockpit.

  “Don’t worry!”

  The X-wing sailed through the twilight halo separating pitch black space from the planet’s surface. Luke took a deep breath, then plunged his craft into the white blanket of mists.

  He couldn’t see a thing. His vision was entirely obstructed by the dense whiteness pressing against the canopy windows of his ship. His only choice was to control his X-wing solely by instruments. But the scopes weren’t registering anything, even as Luke flew ever nearer to the planet. Desperately he worked his controls, no longer able to discern even so much as his altitude.

  When an alarm began to buzz, Artoo joined its clarion call with his own frantic series of whistles and beeps.

  “I know, I know!” Luke shouted, still fighting the controls of his ship. “All the scopes are dead! I can’t see a thing. Hang on, I’m going to start the landing cycle. Let’s just hope there’s something underneath us.”

  Artoo squealed again, but his sounds were effectively drowned by the ear-splitting blast of the X-wing’s retrorockets. Luke felt his stomach plunge as the ship began to drop rapidly. He braced against his pilot’s seat, steeling himself for any possible impact. Then the ship lunged and Luke heard an awful sound as if the limbs of trees were being snapped off by his speeding craft.

  When the X-wing finally screeched to a halt, it was with a tremendous jolt that nearly flung its pilot through the cockpit window. Certain, at last, that he was on the ground, Luke slumped back in his chair and sighed with relief. He then pulled a switch that lifted his ship’s canopy. When he raised his head outside the ship to get his first look at the alien world, Luke Skywalker gasped.

  The X-wing was completely surrounded by mists, its bright landing lights not illuminating more than a few feet in front of it. Luke’s eyes gradually began to grow accustomed to the gloom all around him so that he could just barely see the twisted trunks and roots of grotesque-looking trees. He pulled himself out of the cockpit as Artoo detached his stout body from its cubbyhole plug.

  “Artoo,” Luke said, “you stay put while I look around.”

  The enormous gray trees had gnarled and intertwining roots that rose far above Luke before they joined to form trunks. He tilted back his head and could see the branches, high above, that seemed to form a canopy with the low-hanging clouds. Luke cautiously climbed out onto the long nose of his ship and saw that he had crash-landed in a small, fog-shrouded body of water.

  Artoo emitted a short beep—then there was a loud splash, followed by silence. Luke turned just in time to glimpse the droid’s domed topside as it disappeared beneath the water’s foggy surface.

  “Artoo! Artoo!” Luke called. He kneeled down on the smooth hull of the ship and leaned forward, anxiously searching for his mechanical friend.

  But the black waters were serene, revealing not a sign of the little R2 unit. Luke could not tell how deep this still, murky pond might be; but it looked extremely deep. He was suddenly gripped by the realization that he might never see his droid friend again. Just then, a tiny periscope broke through the surface of the water and Luke could hear a faint gurgling beep.

  What a relief! Luke thought, as he watched the periscope make its way toward shore. He ran along the nose of his X-wing fighter, and when the shore line was less than three meters away, the young commander jumped into the water and scrambled up the shore. He looked back and saw that Artoo was still making his way toward the beach.

  “Hurry, Artoo!” Luke shouted.

  Whatever it was that suddenly moved through the water behind Artoo moved too quickly and was too obscured by the mist for Luke to clearly identify it. All he could see was a massive dark form. This creature rose up for a moment, then dove beneath the surface, making a loud bang against the little droid’s metal hull. Luke heard the robot’s pathetic electronic scream for help. Then, nothing …

  Luke stood there, horror-struck, as he continued to stare at the black waters, still as death itself. As he watched, a few tell-tale bubbles began to erupt at the surface. Luke’s heart began to pound in fear as he realized he was standing too near the pool. But before he could move, the runt-size robot was spit out by the thing lurking beneath the black surface. Artoo made a graceful arc through the air and came crashing down onto a soft patch of gray moss.

  “Artoo,” Luke yelled, running to him, “are you okay?” Luke was grateful that the shadowy swamp lurker apparently found metal droids neither palatable nor digestible.

  Feebly the robot replied with a series of faint whistles and beeps.

  “If you’re saying coming here was a bad idea, I’m beginning to agree with you,” Luke admitted, looking around at their dismal surroundings. At least, he thought, there was human companionship on the ice world. Here, except for Artoo, there seemed to be nothing but this murky bog—and creatures, as yet unseen, that might lurk in the falling darkness.

  Dusk was quickly approaching. Luke shivered in the thickening fog that closed in on him like something alive. He helped Artoo-Detoo back onto his feet, then wiped away the swamp muck that covered the droid’s cylindrical body. As he worked, Luke heard eerie and inhuman cries that emanated from the distant jungle and shuddered as he imagined the beasts that might be making them.

  By the time he finished cleaning off Artoo, Luke observed that the sky had grown noticeably darker. Shadows loomed ominously all around him and the distant cries didn’t seem quite so far away anymore. He and Artoo glanced around at the spooky swamp-jungle surrounding them, then huddled a bit closer. Suddenly, Luke noticed a pair of tiny but vicious eyes winking at them through the shadowy underbrush, then vanishing with a scutter of diminutive feet.

  He hesitated to doubt the advice of Ben Kenobi, but now he was beginning to wonder if that robed specter had somehow made a mistake leading him to this planet with its mysterious Jedi teacher.

  He looked over at his X-wing and groaned when he saw that the entire bottom section was completely submerged in the dark waters. “How are we going to get that thing flying again?” The whole set of circumstances seemed hopeless and somewhat ridiculous. “What are we doing here?” he moaned.

  It was beyond the computerized abilities of Artoo to provide an answer for either of those questions, but he made a little comforting beep anyway.

  “It’s like part of a dream,” Luke said. He shook his head, feeling cold and frightened. “Or maybe I’m going crazy.”

  At least, he knew for certain, he couldn’t have gotten himself into a crazier situation.

  VIII

  DARTH VADER LOOKED LIKE A GREAT silent god as he stood on the main control deck of his mammoth Star Destroyer.

  He was staring through the large rectangular window above the deck at the raging field of asteroids that was pelting his ship as it glided through space. Hundreds of rocks streaked past the windows. Some collided with one another and exploded in brilliant displays of vivid light.

  As Vader watched, one of his smaller ships dis
integrated under the impact of an enormous asteroid. Seemingly unmoved, he turned to look at a series of twenty holographic images. These twenty holograms re-created in three dimensions the features of twenty Imperial battleship commanders. The image of the commander whose ship had just been obliterated was fading rapidly, almost as quickly as the glowing particles of his exploded ship were being flung to oblivion.

  Admiral Piett and an aide quietly moved to stand behind their black-garbed master as he turned to an image in the center of the twenty holograms which was continually interrupted by static and faded in and out as Captain Needa of the Star Destroyer Avenger made his report. His first words had already been drowned by static.

  “… which was the last time they appeared in any of our scopes,” Captain Needa continued, “Considering the amount of damage we’ve sustained, they also must have been destroyed.”

  Vader disagreed. He knew of the Millennium Falcon’s power and was quite familiar with the skills of her cocky pilot. “No, Captain,” he snarled angrily, “they’re alive. I want every ship available to sweep the asteroid field until they’re found.”

  As soon as Vader had given his command, Captain Needa’s image and those of the other nineteen captains faded completely. When the last hologram vanished, the Dark Lord, having sensed the two men standing behind him, turned. “Now what is so important it couldn’t wait, Admiral?” he asked imperiously. “Speak up!”

  The admiral’s face turned pale with fear, his trembling voice shaking almost as much as his body. “It was … the Emperor.”

  “The Emperor?” the voice behind the black breath mask repeated.

  “Yes,” the admiral replied. “He commands you make contact with him.”

  “Move this ship out of the asteroid field,” Vader ordered, “into a position where we can send a clear transmission.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “And code the signal to my private chamber.”

  * * *

  The Millennium Falcon had come to rest hidden in the small cave which was pitch black and dripping with moisture. The Falcon’s crew turned down its engines until no sound at all was emitted from the small craft.

  Inside the cockpit, Han Solo and his shaggy copilot were just completing shutting down the ship’s electronic systems. As they did so, all the service lights dimmed and the interior of the ship became nearly as dark as its sheltering cave.

  Han glanced over at Leia and flashed her a quick grin. “Getting kind of romantic in here.”

  Chewbacca growled. There was work to be done in here and the Wookiee needed Han’s undivided attention if they were going to repair the malfunctioning hyperdrive.

  Irritated, Han returned to his work. “What are you so grouchy about?” he snapped.

  Before the Wookiee could respond, the protocol droid timidly approached Han and posed a question of burning importance. “Sir, I’m almost afraid to ask, but does shutting down all except emergency power systems include me?”

  Chewbacca expressed his opinion with a resounding bark of affirmation, but Han disagreed. “No,” he said, “we’re going to need you to talk to the old Falcon here and find out what happened to our hyperdrive.” He looked over at the princess and added, “How are you with a macrofuser, Your Holiness?”

  Before Leia could get off a suitable retort, the Millennium Falcon lurched forward as a sudden impact struck its hull. Everything that was not bolted down flew through the cockpit; even the giant Wookiee, howling boisterously, had to struggle to stay in his chair.

  “Hang on!” Han yelled. “Watch out!”

  See-Threepio clattered against a wall, then collected himself. “Sir, it’s very possible this asteroid is not stable.”

  Han glared at him. “I’m glad you’re here to tell us these things.”

  The ship rocked once more, even more violently than before.

  The Wookiee howled again; Threepio stumbled backward, and Leia was hurled across the cabin directly into the waiting arms of Captain Solo.

  The ship’s rocking stopped as suddenly as it had started. But Leia still stood in Han’s embrace. For once she did not draw away, and he could almost swear she was willingly embracing him. “Why, Princess,” he said, pleasantly surprised, “this is so sudden.”

  At that, she began to pull back. “Let go,” she insisted, trying to move out of his arms. “I’m getting angry.”

  Han saw the old familiar expression of arrogance beginning to return to her face. “You don’t look angry,” he lied.

  “How do I look?”

  “Beautiful,” he answered truthfully, with an emotion that surprised him.

  Leia felt suddenly, unexpectedly shy. Her cheeks flushed pink and, when she realized she was blushing, she averted her eyes. But she still did not really try to get free.

  Han somehow couldn’t let the tender moment last. “And excited,” he had to add.

  Leia became infuriated. Once again the angry princess and haughty senator, she quickly moved away from him and drew herself up to her most regal bearing. “Sorry, Captain,” she said, her cheeks now reddened in anger, “being held by you isn’t enough to get me excited.”

  “Well, I hope you don’t expect more,” he grunted, angrier at himself than at her stinging words.

  “I don’t expect anything,” Leia said indignantly, “except to be left alone.”

  “If you’ll just get out of my way, I’ll leave you alone.”

  Embarrassed to realize that she was, indeed, still standing rather close, Leia stepped aside and made an effort to change the subject. “Don’t you think it’s time we got to work on your ship?”

  Han frowned. “Fine with me,” he said coldly, not looking at her.

  Leia quickly turned on her heel and left the cockpit.

  For a moment Han stood there quietly, just gathering his composure. Sheepishly he looked at the now quiet Wookiee and droid, both of whom had witnessed the entire incident.

  “Come on, Chewie, let’s tear into this flying short circuit,” he said quickly to end the awkward moment.

  The copilot barked in agreement, then joined his captain as they began to leave the cockpit. As they walked out, Han looked back at Threepio, who was still standing in the dim chamber looking dumbfounded. “You too, goldenrod!”

  “I must admit,” the robot muttered to himself as he began to shuffle out of the cockpit, “there are times I don’t understand human behavior.”

  The lights of Luke Skywalker’s X-wing fighter pierced the darkness of the bog planet. The ship had sunk deeper into the scummy waters, but there was still enough of it above the surface to let Luke carry needed supplies from the storage compartments. He knew it could not be much longer before his ship sank deeper—possibly all the way—beneath the water. He thought that his chance of survival might be increased if he gathered as many supplies as he could.

  It was now so dark that Luke could scarcely see in front of him. Out in the dense jungle he heard a sharp snapping noise and felt a chill run through him. Grabbing his pistol, he prepared to blast anything that leaped from the jungle to attack him. But nothing did, and he clipped his weapon back onto its holster and continued to unpack his gear.

  “You ready for some power?” Luke asked Artoo, who was patiently waiting for his own form of nourishment. Luke took a small fusion furnace from an equipment box and ignited it, welcoming even the tiny glow thrown off by the small heating device, then took a power cable and attached it to Artoo through a protuberance that roughly resembled a nose. As power radiated through Artoo’s electronic innards, the stout robot whistled his appreciation.

  Luke sat down and opened a container of processed food. As he began to eat, he talked to the robot. “Now all I have to do is find this Yoda, if he even exists.”

  He looked around nervously at the shadows in the jungle and felt frightened, miserable, and increasingly in doubt about his quest. “This certainly seems like a strange place to find a Jedi Master,” he said to the little robot. “Gives me the cre
eps.”

  From the sound of his beep, it was clear Artoo shared Luke’s opinion of the swamp world.

  “Although,” Luke continued as he reluctantly tasted more of the food, “there’s something familiar about this place. I feel like—”

  “You feel like what?”

  That wasn’t Artoo’s voice! Luke leaped up, grabbed his pistol, then spun around, peering into the gloom to try to find the source of those words.

  As he turned he saw a tiny creature standing directly in front of him. Luke immediately stepped back in surprise; this little being seemed to have materialized out of nowhere! It stood no more than half a meter in height, fearlessly holding its ground in front of the towering youth who wielded an awesome laser pistol.

  The little wizened thing could have been any age. Its face was deeply lined, but was framed with elfin, pointed ears that gave it a look of eternal youth. Long white hair was parted down the middle and hung down on either side of the blue-skinned head. The being was bipedal, and stood on short legs that terminated in tridactyl, almost reptilian feet. It wore rags as gray as the mists of the swamp, and in such tatters that they must have approximated the creature’s very age.

  For the moment, Luke could not decide whether to be frightened or to laugh. But when he gazed into those bulbous eyes and sensed the being’s kindly nature, he relaxed. At last the creature motioned toward the pistol in Luke’s hand.

  “Away put your weapon. I mean you no harm,” it said.

  After some hesitation, Luke quietly put his pistol back into his belt. As he did so, he wondered why he felt impelled to obey this little creature.

  “I am wondering,” the creature spoke again, “why are you here?”

  “I’m looking for someone,” Luke answered.

  “Looking? Looking?” the creature repeated curiously with a wide smile beginning to crease his already-lined face. “You’ve found someone I’d say. Heh? Yes!”

  Luke had to force himself not to smile. “Yeah.”

  “Help you I can … yes … yes.”