Beware the Power of the Dark Side!

by Tom Angleberger

  “Oh, no! Chewbacca!” yelps C-3PO, his hope circuits flickering out.

  Chewbacca gives a low howl but is silenced by the bounty hunter.

  Jabba laughs a very nasty laugh.

  “At last we have the mighty Chewbacca!” he roars menacingly in Huttese, which is a very good language for roaring menacingly.

  The crowd in the throne room can hardly believe their luck. First the thing with the hologram and the robots. Then the slave dancer getting eaten. And now an old enemy for Jabba to play with.

  Some edge closer. But some remember Chewbacca from his old days as smuggler and copilot of the Millennium Falcon and these keep their distance. Chains or no chains, he is still the mighty Chewbacca.

  But Chewbacca gives no sign of resistance.

  From beneath the bounty hunter’s visored helmet comes a strange, scratchy growl.

  “Yrrate yraate hru Wookiee.”

  Jabba waves a hand impatiently and Bib Fortuna raps C-3PO on the head. The droid remembers his new job as translator.

  “Oh! Oh, uh, yes, Your Worshipfulness, I am here. He says he has come for the bounty on the Wookiee.”

  Fortuna hits him again. “Inna Hutta!”

  “What? Oh dear, well, yes…” says C-3PO, and he repeats the line, this time in Huttese.

  Jabba slobbers out a reply and C-3PO speaks: “The illustrious Jabba bids you welcome and will gladly pay you the reward of twenty-five thousand!”

  Boushh croaks out another line and C-3PO immediately translates.

  “Fifty thousand. No less.”

  Even though C-3PO forgot to translate that bit into Huttese, Jabba knows the meaning well enough and is not pleased!

  “Yer wah!”

  In his rage, he knocks C-3PO off the throne. Bib Fortuna and a couple of Jawas push him back up.

  “What? What did I say?” the battered droid asks as he tries to regain his balance.

  “Wonna kitto hrrwhy?”

  “Uh, the mighty Jabba asks why he must pay fifty thousand.”

  Boushh growls out a reply and raises a small silver ball. He slides a finger across it and it begins to glow and hum.

  “Because he’s holding a thermal detonator!”1 cries C-3PO.

  The awful noise of chattering aliens and scheming villains has finally been silenced. Each creature is trying to calculate the blast radius and chances of escape. (Zero.) And now only the growing hum of the detonator is heard.

  Until the sound is broken by an ugly laugh. It is Jabba and for once none of his toadies laugh with him. Not even Crumb.

  “This bounty hunter is my kind of scum,” he chuckles in Huttese. “Fearless and inventive. Thirty-five.”

  “Jabba offers you the sum of thirty-five and I do suggest you take it,” bargains C-3PO.

  Now everyone watches Boushh. What his thoughts are behind that mask no one can tell. But after a dreadful pause, he slides his finger back across the silver ball and it turns off.

  “Zeebuss,” he mutters.

  “He agrees!” yells C-3PO in relief, and even the most hardened criminals in the room cheer with relief. All but Boba Fett, who nods to Boushh with nothing more than professional courtesy.

  As for Jabba, he’s rather pleased. He would have paid the twenty-five thousand, but now he has no intention of paying the little bounty hunter anything at all.

  He’s not sure exactly how he’ll dispose of the scheming little cretin, but he’ll be sure that everyone sees it. No one threatens Jabba! The bounty hunter will pay and Jabba expects to enjoy it. Contentedly, he reaches into a bowl on his armrest and pulls out a struggling, kicking snack to munch on.

  The party starts back up with renewed vigor. Bib Fortuna waves and two guards step forward to drag the miserable Chewbacca away.

  Oh, this is a sad sight! How could—

  Wait! One of those guards is just another piggy Gamorrean, but the other has handsome features hidden behind a mask made of pit boar teeth.

  Incredibly handsome features!

  It’s Lando Calrissian! True, it was his betrayal that allowed Boba Fett to capture Han Solo.2 But since then he has sworn to free his old friend and has worked tirelessly to set this rescue plan into motion.

  Chewbacca gives Lando a quick growl of recognition and lets the Gamorrean lead him deeper into the dungeon.

  Oh, yes, the rescue plan is still in the works. You didn’t think Chewbacca would really give up so easily, did you?

  Lando watches him go and thinks for a minute about the plan…and the risks. But he’s a gambler at heart and doesn’t dwell on the risks. And anyway, there’s no backing out now.

  NIGHTTIME IN JABBA’S PALACE.

  Boushh, the bounty hunter, sneaks through the dark. With his visor’s night vision, he is able to weave amongst the debris of the day’s revelries: castoff dishes smeared with revolting Huttese foods and goblets crusted with the dregs of spice wine, which is illegal even in such a lawless place as Tatooine. But of course there is no law except Jabba’s law here in the palace.

  What could Boushh be up to? Surely he is not planning to burgle?

  Why, yes, it looks like he is! And he has passed up all sorts of ill-gotten booty and made straight for Jabba’s favorite treasure: the carbonite block that is Han Solo.

  Quickly, Boushh presses a series of buttons on the control panel. Clearly, the bounty hunter has prepared for this. In a moment he has started the melting process.

  The carbon block begins to glow, then emits a harsh blast of light. The carbonite casing is melting away. Han is no longer a statue but appears exactly as he did when frozen by Darth Vader back on Cloud City. But only for an instant…then he tumbles forward. Boushh tries to catch him and ease him to the floor.

  Han, weak as a baby, lies there coughing and struggling for breath. Boushh cradles him, an oddly gentle move for a black-hearted bounty hunter.

  “Just relax for a moment. You’re free of the carbonite…” murmurs Boushh in his half-mechanical rasping voice.

  Already beginning to regain some control of his muscles, Han rubs at his face and moans.

  “Shhh!” urges Boushh, again with a puzzling gentleness. “You have hibernation sickness.”1

  “I can’t see,” mutters Han.

  “Your eyesight will return in time.”

  “Where am I?”

  “Jabba’s palace.”

  If he was well, Han would have leapt to his feet, ready to lunge for an exit. But in his current condition, all he can do is shudder.

  “Who are you?” he asks.

  Boushh pulls at his helmet. Surely this is hardly the time for him to reveal his grotesque face!

  Wait! It’s not grotesque at all. In fact, it’s not really Boushh.

  It’s the beautiful Princess Leia, here to rescue Han!

  “Someone who loves you…” she whispers.

  “Leia!”

  They kiss, but Leia reluctantly draws away. She is anxious to be free of this place. Lando is waiting for her signal to release Chewie from the dungeon and soon they’ll all meet Luke at the rendezvous point and be gone from the palace, then the planet, and then this whole wretched star system.

  “I gotta get you out of here,” she tells Han, pulling him upright. He can barely walk, but in a moment Chewie and Lando will be able to help. She just needs to get him out of—

  “Hwawhhh hwawh hwahhh hwa!” A nauseating chuckle fills the room.

  “What’s that?” says Han. “I know that laugh.”

  Leia knows it, too. And she knows what it means. Even as her heart fills with dread, she has the wits to touch a control on her armor. A silent message goes out to Lando and Luke: “Caught!”

  A curtain falls open across the room. There, jammed into a small alcove, are Jabba and his most favored cronies. Cramped, sweaty, and slimy, they’ve waited an hour to spring their trap. And now they are well rewarded.

  Jabba laughs again and this time they all join in—slobbery mouths agape, drool and mucus oozing, black hearts rejoic
ing that it is Han and not themselves that Jabba is playing with.

  “Hey, Jabba!” calls Han, trying to summon up the commanding swagger that once allowed him to face the Hutt crime lord without fear. “Look, Jabba, I was just on my way to pay you back, but I got a little sidetracked. It’s not my fault.”

  “Ah cheek a gogh. Yu nee, Solo.”

  There’s no need for C-3PO to translate. There will be no mercy. No bargains. It’s too late for any of that.

  The money, in fact, means nothing to Jabba. Even the evil pleasure he takes in hurting others isn’t what matters here. Solo was a smuggler who lost what he was smuggling. Though he promised to pay Jabba back, he skipped off to join the Rebellion.

  The Rebellion means nothing to Jabba. What matters is that Han made him look weak. Jabba will not let that happen again!

  “You may have been a good smuggler once,” he chortles in Huttese. “But now you’re bantha fodder.”

  Salacious Crumb cackles with glee, the rest of the throne room laughs, and Jabba roars at his guards to take the smuggler away.

  “JABBA!” CRIES HAN as he is pulled backward, any hope of swagger now abandoned. “I’ll pay you triple! You’re throwing away a fortune here.”

  But Jabba knows exactly what Han is worth. This princess, however, is an unexpected bonus!1

  “Co slayats my!” he commands: “Bring her to me!”

  Lando, who had pushed his way past several Gamorreans to be next to Leia, had hoped to lead her away to the dungeon, then help her escape. But now he has no choice but to lead her forward, toward the one thing in the palace worse than the dungeons: Jabba himself.

  “Hwaah hwaah ha,” the great slug chuckles greedily.

  “We have powerful friends!” snarls Leia. “You’re going to regret this!”

  Jabba has no need for a translator. He has heard it all before…so many times before.

  “Ah nah mah toe tah!” he says, licking his lips.

  She recoils from his touch, but he draws her closer and closer. She tries to face him, to show him her strength, to stare him down as she once did the Grand Moff Tarkin and, yes, even Darth Vader. But here, within centimeters of his horrible gaping mouth and pimpled tongue, she just can’t.

  “Ugh!” She turns away in disgust.

  BELOW…IN THE DUNGEONS…Han is half carried, half thrown into a cell. He still can’t see, but the brutal slam of a metal door tells him that there will be no escape.

  And now…“WRGGGGRRRRR!”

  What new horror is this?

  But wait: Han knows that growl.

  “Chewie?” he calls. “Is that you?”

  And just like that, the two old partners are reunited in a wild, hairy hug that lifts Han off the ground.

  “NGHWWWWWWRGGHHH!”

  “Ah, Chewie,” says Han as the Wookiee lowers him to the ground and begins petting and pawing at him.

  “Wait! What are you doing in here, pal? What’s going on?”

  “Ghrrrrnnawug! Mrrrrrrrropf wug Ghrrrrrr!”

  “Lando? That double-crossing—”

  “HRRKK!”

  “What? He’s on our side now? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “Hrrk wrahhr! Whrrrk!”

  “Okay, okay, maybe he is. But how is he going to get you, me, and Leia out of here by himself?”

  “Krrrrrrghhhhnn.”

  “A plan?” repeats Han. “This is a plan?”

  “Krrrg Ghrrwph grrr.”

  “Luke? Luke’s crazy! He can’t take care of himself, much less rescue anybody!”

  The last time Han had seen Luke, he’d had to save the reckless rebel from freezing to death in the snowfields of Hoth. And that wasn’t the first time he’d had to save the kid either.

  “Nrggh! Jrgghhka wrghhhh.”

  “A—a Jedi Knight?” scoffs Han. “I’m out of it for a little while and everybody gets delusions of grandeur!”

  “Wrrrgggghhhhh!” argues Chewie. But he relents, realizing that Han doesn’t yet know about Luke’s visit to Master Yoda and his training in the old ways of the Jedi warriors.

  “Whrugg!”

  “I’m all right, pal. I’m all right.”

  AND WHAT ABOUT LUKE? Where is he?

  He is on his way.

  Impatiently waiting in the desert cave they chose as a rendezvous point, he leaps to his feet when he gets Leia’s message.

  Hoping to go undetected for as long as possible, he makes his way through the dunes on foot. He wears a hooded robe, as his first teacher, Obi-Wan Kenobi, wore.

  Luke has been thinking much about Obi-Wan lately.

  He never expected—and certainly never wanted—to come back here, to Tatooine, his home planet. But once Han’s rescue brought him here he felt drawn back—not to his own home1—but to Obi-Wan’s.

  There, in his master’s lonely hermit hut deep in the Juntland wastes, he found a few things Obi-Wan had left behind that were useful to him…including the missing parts he needed for the construction of his own lightsaber—the weapon of a true Jedi Knight.

  Luke had begun his adventures with a lightsaber that had belonged to his father, Anakin Skywalker.

  At first Luke had treasured it. With help from first Obi-Wan and then Yoda, he had learned to use it well and come to depend upon it, to reach for it first when facing any danger.

  He had even faced Darth Vader with it, believing that Vader was the man who had killed his father. That was what Obi-Wan had told him.

  But Darth Vader had told him something different. Something darker. Vader claimed that he was Luke’s father. That he was Anakin Skywalker.

  At the time, Luke had been sure this was a lie, but he had grown less and less sure. And now he feared that it was the truth.

  Whether that lightsaber had belonged to a hero or a villain or both, it was gone now. Lost, along with Luke’s right hand, in that devastating battle with Vader on Cloud City.2

  To face Vader again, he knew he’d need his own lightsaber.

  Luke’s teachers, Obi-Wan and Yoda, had told him only a little of the way a Jedi must use the Force to build a lightsaber.

  And yet he seemed to know exactly what he needed to know. Reaching out with his mind, he found the right pieces—some easily purchased, some much harder to acquire.

  After leaving Obi-Wan’s hut, he knew he had at last collected everything he needed. While our other heroes bustled about preparing for the rescue, Luke retreated into the solitude of a desert cave and puzzled over the pieces….In the end it took not just physical tools but also the Force to put it all together and bring the crystal inside to life.

  But when at last he was finished, a brilliant green beam sprang out—buzzing with a raw, dangerous energy. It truly was his lightsaber, almost an extension of himself.

  It pleased him and he grew confident, perhaps foolishly, that if he faced Vader again, the new lightsaber would help him win the fight. But…if what Vader had said was true, did he wish to win a fight against his own father?

  His feelings became confused again. He needed answers. He needed to return to Yoda.

  But first, to free his friend Han Solo from Jabba.

  So, with this mad plan concocted, he strides through the desert, ready to play his part.

  NOT EVERY SITUATION calls for a weapon, though, and Luke does not carry the lightsaber as he approaches Jabba’s palace.

  Perhaps, mindful of the lessons he learned from Yoda, he has decided to seek a peaceful solution and thus brings no weapon at all.

  Or perhaps he fears that Jabba would attempt to take the weapon away before letting him speak.

  Alas, our hero’s mind is not always quite as clear as a Jedi’s mind should be on such matters.

  Regardless, he is now at the door of Jabba’s palace with no weapon, no invitation, no way in, and…no certain way out.

  The way in turns out to be easy enough. An electronic eyeball barely has time to pop out before Luke has said, “You will open the door.”

  Yes, this is
a Jedi mind trick and it works easily. Inside, the simpleminded guard who operates the door unthinkingly obeys.

  The sudden grumbling and squawking of the opening door awakens the Gamorreans on guard just inside, but Luke doesn’t even need to speak to them. A simple wave of his hand and they, too, think letting Luke in is a great idea.

  Ah, and now Bib Fortuna scuttles out of the throne room to block Luke’s path.

  “Yo macka chipowan, Skywalker!”

  Here is a better test of Luke’s ability. Fortuna is not as simpleminded as the rest.

  “I must speak with Jabba,” Luke says calmly.

  “Es tusi,” Bib replies, shaking his head. “Jabba no tusen di hunka bi. No barga.”

  “You will take me to Jabba now,” commands Luke and with a small wave of his hand uses the Force to impress that command on Fortuna’s mind.

  “Utaka Jabba nah,” repeats Bib hesitantly.

  Luke finds that fooling Fortuna takes considerably more concentration than fooling the guards. But he quickly perceives Fortuna’s weaknesses and changes his tone.

  “You serve your master well,” says Luke. “And you will be rewarded.”

  This is what Fortuna wants to believe. And, with the aid of the Force, he does believe it. He turns and leads Luke toward the throne room, muttering to himself about his anticipated reward.

  Jabba, like many of his guests, is dozing. It was a late night, what with all that Han Solo business and the party that followed.

  “Master,” Fortuna insists. “Master!”

  “Splurp?” mutters Jabba, half awake.

  Fortuna whispers in his ear, “Gabba nopez Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight.”

  “Hah na for waha tooki!” roars Jabba, now wide awake and furious! The one instruction he had given Fortuna was “Don’t let Skywalker in until after my nap!”

  “I must be allowed to speak,” says Luke as calmly as he can.

  “Heah mots beyego eek,” repeats Fortuna in Huttese.

  Jabba whacks Fortuna with one of his tiny arms and attempts to shove him off the platform.

  “Koiya baya scoy,” he snarls. “He tosen ano Jedi mind trick.”