by Adam Gidwitz
C-3PO informs the crew that “there are no official records of exploration of the center of asteroids. That means it might be quite dangerous.”
Everyone finds his commentary extremely insightful.
Han brings the ship to a bumpy landing in the blackness of the cave. “Hey, Chewie,” he says, climbing out of the pilot’s seat, “come help.”
The pirate starship sits for hours in darkness, as Han and Chewbacca touch wires together and screw and unscrew bolts they don’t really recognize. C-3PO tries to supervise them, regularly giving unhelpful advice. Leia stays in the cockpit, watching the readings on the dials.
After a while, Han joins her there. C-3PO follows him, nattering away. “I wonder, sir, if attaching the cobalt wire to crimson wire was really such a good idea. Not that I’m questioning your authority, sir. Your expertise, perhaps. But never your authority.”
“Okay,” says Han, ignoring the droid and addressing Leia. “I’m going to shut down the main—”
Suddenly, the ship lurches violently to the right. The three inhabitants of the cockpit are thrown against blinking control panels. The Falcon settles. They stand, not moving, barely breathing.
“Sir,” C-3PO reports, “it is quite possible that this asteroid is not entirely stable.”
“Not entirely stable?” Han replies. “I’m glad you’re here to tell us these things. Not entirely stable. Professor, why don’t you go help Chewie with the hyperdrive? See if he appreciates your analysis.”
C-3PO totters out of the cockpit, muttering to himself about understanding over six million languages, but not quite having mastered the one called sarcasm.
The ship lurches again—even more violently this time. Han is thrown into the control panel again, while Leia is thrown into Han’s arms.
The ship settles. He smiles at her.
“Let go!” she snaps.
“Don’t get excited, Princess,” he replies. He does not let go.
She pushes him away. “Being held by you, Captain, isn’t quite enough to get me excited.”
What follows is a flirtation that kind of looks like a fight—or maybe it’s a fight that kind of looks like flirtation. I’ve never been very good at telling the difference. Anyway, it’s irrelevant to your training, so I’m skipping it. Suffice it to say that Han and Leia end up kissing. If that sort of thing interests you, you can imagine it yourself.
And then C-3PO interrupts the kiss, announcing that Chewbacca has made a breakthrough with the hyperdrive motivator. Han comes very close to disabling the golden droid and affixing him to the exterior of the Falcon as a hood ornament. But he follows the droid to the mechanical bay to see what Chewie’s done.
Not five minutes later, Leia shouts from the cockpit. Han and Chewbacca come running. The princess is pointing into the darkness. Her face is as white as her royal tunic. “There’s something…something out there…”
Just as she says it, an object lands somewhere on the Falcon. Han listens.
A sound rises out of the darkness.
Regular. Persistent. Almost like something is gnawing on the ship. A panel of lights in the cockpit flickers and winks out.
“I’m going out there,” Han says.
“Are you serious?”
“We just got this bucket of bolts back together. I’m not going to let something tear it apart.”
“Or eat it….” Leia mutters.
Han ducks from the cockpit. “Wait!” Leia shouts. “I’m coming with you!”
“Aaararararagh!” says Chewbacca, which means, “Me, too!”
The scruffy space pirate, the princess, and the walking mop don oxygen masks to enable breathing in the nearly nonexistent atmosphere of the asteroid. Han lowers the gangway, and he, Leia, and Chewbacca slowly make their way down it. Han is carrying a blaster. Chewbacca has his bowcaster, which is like a crossbow that uses magnets to fire energy bolts. (You should definitely ask for one of those for your next birthday. I know I’m going to.)
As the small group steps from the steel gangway to the floor of the asteroid, Leia says, “It’s damp out here. And warmer than I expected.”
Han tries to gaze through the darkness, but he can’t make out much. Somewhere in the distance is the sound of dripping water.
“I have a bad feeling about this place,” whispers the princess.
“I can’t imagine why,” Han replies.
Chewbacca barks and points to the ship’s cockpit. A two-meter-long shape can be seen gliding across the top of the Falcon, like a barracuda swimming through the dark waters of an ocean reef.
Han turns on a heel and lets loose a laser blast. The creature screeches, beating leathery wings against the dark. Han shoots again. It falls to the cave floor. Han, followed by the others, hurries to its crumpled form. He kicks it with his boot, moving a large wing away from its huge, gnarled, batlike face. Leia shudders. So does Chewie.
“What I thought,” says Han. “Mynocks. Probably chewing on the power cables. Chewie, check the rest of the ship. Last thing we need in a fight with a Star Destroyer is—”
“Watch out!” Leia shouts. Swooping out of the darkness is a pack of them, their toothy mouths screeching, their flattened noses hissing, their horrible eyes wide.
“Run!” Han cries, firing into the swarm of cold-blooded, leather-winged parasites.
Chewie and Leia sprint for the Falcon’s gangway.
Han fires again, his shot going low and hitting the floor of the cave.
Suddenly, the asteroid is sliding again, listing to the right. As the small crew of the Falcon tries to regain their footing, the mynocks descend upon them, swarming, their claws and sucking mouths lunging at hair, clothes, skin.
Han looks desperately around. With one arm, he covers his head. With the other, he levels his blaster at the ground by his feet—which is hard, he has suddenly realized, but not rock hard. He fires. The asteroid lurches again.
“Time to go!” he cries. They all manage to crawl or stumble up the gangway, frantically swatting the mynocks away with arms and elbows, blasters and a crossbow. Chewbacca turns and pulverizes one last mynock as the hatch begins to close.
Once the hatch is secure, Han leads a mad dash for the cockpit. “We’re getting out of here!”
“The star cruisers will be waiting for us!” Leia objects, running after him. “Is it really—”
“No time to discuss this in committee!” Han snaps. “Chewie, initiate the engines!”
Leia growls at him, “I am not a committee!”
As they come tumbling into the cockpit, C-3PO says, “Sir, I really think it’s time for us to consider leaving.”
“You know, goldenrod, I think this is the first time we’ve seen eye to eye. I’m so glad!”
“Oh! So am I, sir! So am I!”
Han rolls his eyes, initiates the lifters, and the ship lurches off the rock floor of the cave. Han pushes on the accelerator, and the Falcon leans forward, picking up speed. He steers them through the winding tunnel, his fingers squeezing the steering column hard enough to leave indents.
Chewbacca howls and points. They can see stars again, set against the black velvet of space. C-3PO becomes even more agitated. “Look, sir, it’s—”
“I see it!” Han barks.
Stalactites and stalagmites, like jagged teeth, are closing in on them. Up ahead, the view of space is dwindling, the stars winking out behind stone.
“The cave’s collapsing!” cries Leia.
“This is no cave!” Han bellows.
It’s true. They are not stalactites and stalagmites.
They are teeth.
The cave is not a cave. It is a mouth. The tunnel was not a tunnel. It was a throat. Of something. Something large.
As the massive mouth is just about to shut, the Falcon, no bigger than a single tooth, shoots out of the darkness and into the greater darkness of space.
Behind it, a monstrous, wormlike creature—white and eyeless and nearly the size of a Star Destroyer itself�
��erupts from the hole in the asteroid and tries to swallow the ship up.
The Falcon screams ahead and everyone inside screams, too.
But the ship is fast enough—just fast enough—to outpace the space-worm’s snapping jaws.
The worm, disappointed, slides back into the asteroid.
The ship, meanwhile, slides into space.
Inside, sweating and heaving, Han guides them toward the edge of the asteroid field.
Where the Star Destroyers are waiting.
LESSON SIGMA:
PUNCHING IN THE DARK
You’re going to have someone toss soft objects at you again. You’re going to block them away. But this time, your eyes are going to be closed.
Face the person, close your eyes, and breathe. Listen to the room. Feel it.
When you say go, the person is going to—very gently—toss these objects at your face and chest. You will try to block them away with your hands.
Listen for the objects. Feel them.
Do not guess. Feel.
You will miss. You will probably miss more than you hit. That’s okay. Don’t get frustrated. Remember, anger leads to the dark side.
If you can stay calm during this activity, that is more valuable than batting away the objects.
If you can do both, though, you’re really on to something.
THEY STARE AT the enormous Imperial ships. Everyone’s breathing through open mouths. Hearts are beating hard. Everyone except C-3PO, of course, who finds both respiration and circulation superfluous. Still, he’s more scared than the rest of them combined.
“Okay,” Han says. “Ready for lightspeed.”
“Any minute now….” Leia mutters.
Then, out of the blackness of space, a laser blast rocks the Falcon. They’ve been spotted.
“Hold on!” Han bellows. “One…Two…”
Leia looks in trepidation as another laser bolt screams toward them.
“THREE!”
The four space travelers look expectantly at the stars.
Nothing. Again.
“It’s not fair!” Han whines.
The blast rocks the ship, rattling the gears and bolts and cylinders.
C-3PO is frantic. “Sir, the shields are at 40 percent! Another hit like that and we’re done for!”
Han looks at his meter readings. “Okay, Chewie. Give me all power to forward shields. I’m going in.”
“You’re going to attack them?” Leia shrieks.
The Millennium Falcon dives at the nearest Star Destroyer. Bright green blasts light up the space around them.
“Sir! The odds of surviving a direct attack on an Imperial Star Destroyer are—”
“Shut up!” Leia shouts.
But in case you want to know, the odds of the Falcon surviving an attack on an Imperial Star Destroyer are about the same as the odds of a lame, half-blind bunny surviving an attack on a hungry tiger. Give or take.
The ship dives at the Destroyer, lasers blazing.
It is one brave bunny.
On the bridge of the Imperial Star Destroyer, Captain Needa, commander of the vessel, grins. “We have them now.”
The Falcon hurtles through space, aiming directly, it seems, for the viewing deck of the bridge. Closer, it comes. Closer. Closer.
“Fire!” he cries.
But the red laser blast misses. The Falcon is coming too fast, too low.
The captain’s face goes white.
The Falcon is a hundred meters away. Eighty. Sixty. Forty. Twenty.
“DUCK!” screams the captain. He throws himself to the floor. As if that would do any good.
His face is pressed against the cold, sheer steel, waiting for impact.
Nothing.
When he looks up at last, the sky is empty. Just a million crystalline stars.
“Where are they?” Needa bellows. Behind him, his lieutenants check their readings frantically.
“We can’t find them, sir! They’ve just…disappeared!”
“What? Nonsense! Where are they?”
But they search the readings to no avail. The Falcon is gone.
An hour later, brave Captain Needa boards a shuttle that takes him from his Star Destroyer to the flagship of the fleet. As he disembarks, his stomach twists into a knot. He listens to his own footsteps echo along the glossy floors of the Imperial ship. He’s been a good captain, he tells himself. Everything will be fine.
When he arrives at the bridge, he finds Darth Vader addressing a motley collection of space creatures. There is a T’doshok, a Gand, and a Corellian cyborg, among others. You might not know what any of those look like, but trust me. They’re weird. Just imagine some weird dudes, standing around listening to Vader. Oh, yeah, and they’re carrying guns. Lots of guns.
They’re bounty hunters, by the way. They specialize in tracking hard-to-find pilots, and their ships.
In one corner, standing apart, is a man in a battered, dirty space suit. His name is Boba Fett. He knows the Falcon from its days on Tatooine. And he knows the Empire is not the only one who wants it found. That there is money to be made twice on this ship. He also knows the man who captains it. And how he thinks.
Darth Vader senses Captain Needa’s presence. He stops speaking.
“Lord Vader,” the captain says. He can feel his neck beginning to constrict. Calm yourself, he thinks.
When the Dark Lord turns, his cape sweeps out behind him, like a stormcloud covering the sun. “What is it, Captain?”
“We—” The captain represses a shudder. “We’ve lost them.”
The grip on his throat is no less painful for being invisible. The air stops flowing to his lungs. Blood ceases circulating in his brain. His eyesight fades to white….
“Apology accepted,” Vader murmurs, and turns back to the bounty hunters. Stormtroopers swoop in to dispose of Captain Needa’s body.
The Millennium Falcon perches on the back of former-Captain Needa’s Star Destroyer, just behind its main radar tower—too close to be seen. They say “Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.” Han Solo is demonstrating the truth of that adage in the extreme.
“Well,” Leia admits reluctantly, staring at the bristling gun turret that would be aimed directly at them, if only its operator knew where they were, “that was a neat trick.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” C-3PO complains. “Captain Solo, you have gone too far!”
“Ararararrragh!”
“No, Chewbacca, I will not be quiet! Surrender is a perfectly acceptable alternative in extreme circumstances. The Empire may be gracious enough to—”
Leia reaches over and shuts off C-3PO’s audio output speakers. He flails his arms in fury.
Han smiles and leans back in his chair, his hands cradled behind his head.
“Now,” the princess continues, “how do we get off?”
“These cruisers like to dump their space junk before jumping into hyperspace. We’ll wait for that, and float away with the trash.”
“That suits this ship….” Leia mutters.
“Hey!”
“And then? Assuming your garbage camouflage holds up?”
Han leans forward. “Then we’ve got to find a safe port around here to complete repairs. Any ideas?”
Chewbacca brings up an electronic map on the ship’s main control panel. The small crew pores over it. Han groans. “Anoat system. Nothing around here but mining colonies and…” He pauses. He is suddenly interested. “And Lando.”
“The Lando system?” Leia interjects. “Never heard of it.”
“Lando’s not a system. He’s a man,” Han says, warming to the idea. “Lando Calrissian. He’s a card player, gambler, scoundrel. You’d like him.”
“I don’t like scoundrels.”
“You like me.”
“No, I don’t.”
Han ignores her. “He’s on Bespin. Runs a gas mining colony there. Won it in a card game. We go way back, Lando and me.”
“
Araaaaaragh.”
“That was a long time ago, Chewie.”
“What was?”
“Nothing.”
“So you can trust him?”
“Trust him? No. But he’s got no love for the Empire, I can tell you that much.”
Chewbacca lets out a warning bark as he reads the ship’s sensors.
They all brace themselves. In a slow avalanche, a mountain of junk—broken machinery, damaged steel, effluent, garbage—floats out into space. The Falcon detaches from the surface of the destroyer and floats away with it.
The small crew watches the great warship. They are barely breathing.
The Imperial Star Destroyer fires up its engines, and then—boom—takes off into hyperspace. Han smiles.
Leia lays a hand on his shoulder. “You do have your moments,” she says. “Not many, but you have them.”
Han prides himself on keeping things pretty cool. But with Leia’s hand on his shoulder, and her compliment ringing in his ears, his cool heart beats just a little harder.
Once the star cruiser fleet has completely disappeared, the Falcon powers up its engine and leaves the field of space junk, charting a course for Lando’s colony on Bespin.
A few minutes later, a small ship—the Slave I—nestled among the space junk and filthy with the desert sands of a distant planet called Tatooine, powers up, wends its way through the detritus, and silently follows the Millennium Falcon.
BESPIN IS A shimmering pink planet, all gases and clouds like soapsuds. It lies in the fabric of space like a pink marble would lie on a black blanket. Beautiful, out of place.
Floating in the lower atmosphere, crystalline and shimmering like a child’s top molded in platinum, is Cloud City, the center of the mining operations on the north side of the planet. A single silver tendril descends toward the gaseous surface of the world below.
The Millennium Falcon banks, adjusting its course for the sky-bound town.
“It’s a gas mining community,” Han explains. “Lando’s in charge of the whole thing. Hard to believe, since I’ve never known him to run anything larger than a card table. But he’s been here for years.”
