by Adam Gidwitz
Two laser bolts hit either side of the ship, sending it lurching right, then left.
Chewie roars. Han looks at the scopes. Two small patrol ships have taken position just behind them. Through the Falcon’s intercom come the words, “You have not been granted permission to land.”
Han replies, “I know! I’m looking for Lando! Lando Calrissian!”
“He has identified your vessel,” says the voice over the intercom. “You are to follow us. Do not deviate from your course.”
The small crew of the Millennium Falcon look at one another. “Touchy, aren’t they?” C-3PO chirrups.
Leia is looking hard at Han. “I thought you were friends with this guy.”
“There’s nothing to worry about,” Han assures her through gritted teeth.
Leia sighs. “Who’s worried?”
The landing pad is empty. Pink clouds float by, pushed by a wind that smells faintly sweet, like someone is cooking pancakes and drenching them with syrup. It’s actually the smell of the predominant gas in Bespin’s atmosphere, rethen. It isn’t toxic to humans. At least, not very.
Han, Leia, C-3PO, and Chewbacca walk down the gangway of the Millennium Falcon, the motliest, least impressive crew of a pirate ship this side of the galaxy. They gaze around for some sort of welcoming party.
“Hm!” C-3PO huffs. “No one here to meet us! Quite rude!”
Leia shakes her head. “I don’t like this….”
“On the other hand, they did let us land,” the droid says.
Han tells them all not to worry. But his voice and face are anything but reassuring.
And then, a door on the far side of the platform opens and a dashing man steps through. A long cape dances behind him as he strides forward, and a pencil-thin mustache perches like an ornament just above his lips. A dozen security guards march behind him, followed finally by an officious looking manservant with a bald head and an electronic command system fastened to his ears.
The caped man looks furious.
“See?” Han whispers to his gang. “My friend! Lando!” And then, to Chewbacca, he adds, “Maybe go get the bowcaster.”
The man’s voice is rising as he approaches. “Why, you slimy, double-crossing, no-good swindler! You’ve got a lot of guts coming here, after the stunt you pulled!” He’s coming at Han hard, and with increasing speed. Han sets his feet and curls his hands into fists.
As Lando comes within reach, he throws a hard right at Han. The space pirate ducks—and then is pulled into an embrace.
The landing party stares, confused. But Lando is laughing. “How you doing, you old pirate?” Lando—as dashing and handsome a man as you’ve ever met—pulls back and looks at Han. He shakes his head. He’s still laughing. “You look like a mess.”
“And you look like a businessman,” Han shoots back.
Lando laughs some more.
The two of them turn and, arms around each other’s shoulders, start for the doors. The manservant with the headset dismisses the guards, who troop in unison inside and out of sight.
“Well, he seems friendly,” C-3PO announces, falling into line behind the old mates.
“Yeah,” Leia mutters. “Charming….”
As they pass through the fine, silvered sliding doors, Lando says, “So, what are you doing here?”
“Repairs.” Han gestures back at the Falcon. “I thought you could help me out.”
Lando looks alarmed. “What have you done to my ship?”
“Your ship?” Han stops, and the group following them pulls up short. He is gesturing at his chest with his thumb. “You lost her to me, fair and square!”
“Fair? You never played a hand of cards fair in your life!”
“Are you accusing me of cheating?”
“Are you denying it?”
The two men glower at each other for a second. Three seconds. Five.
Leia glances at Chewbacca to see if he’s got a blaster.
And then the two men break up laughing.
Leia exhales and rolls her eyes. Men. As egotistical as roosters. And about as smart.
The corridors of the mining colony are wide and shining. The floors are an expensive, marble-like stone, and frequent windows give out onto a breathtaking view of the lower atmosphere.
“Well,” Han asks, “how’s the mining business?”
Lando sighs the sigh of the fortunate. “Oh, you know. Never making quite the profit you want. You got your supply problems, then your labor disputes, and once you take care of those, there’s—”
Han begins laughing again.
“What’s so funny?”
“Listen to you!” Han grins. “Since when were you a responsible businessman?”
Lando shakes his head ruefully. “Yeah, I suppose I’m responsible these days. It’s the price you pay for being successful.”
Leia is watching him. Listening. She notes a sudden something in his voice that she has not heard before. Maybe it’s regret, she tells herself.
The group walks on. C-3PO, tottering behind as usual, spies another protocol droid, a 3PO unit, emerging from a side room. “Oh, hello!” he calls.
“E chu ta!” replies the droid.
C-3PO stops, stunned. “How rude!”
(“E chu ta,” is, of course, Huttese. It is absolutely not appropriate to translate. Maybe when you’re older.)
Then, from the room from which the rude 3PO unit just emerged, C-3PO hears the characteristic beeping of an R2. “That sounds just like…” C-3PO exclaims. “I wonder…!”
As Lando leads the way around a corner and into the next hallway, C-3PO follows the beeping sounds, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he might find his friend.
He does not.
Instead, his eyes get very bright.
And then he is shot, right in the chest.
And he explodes.
LESSON TAU:
PREPARE FOR THE DARKNESS
Scatter objects across the floor. Recruit someone to throw soft objects at you. Stand on one foot. Keep your eyes open. Breathe.
Hop across the floor on one foot, avoiding the scattered stuff. Your assistant should gently throw the objects at you. Bat them away as you hop.
Stay calm. This should be fun.
Difficult things are fun when your mind is not disturbed by fear or anger or pride.
Breathe.
The darkness is coming.
LEIA IS PACING in a luxurious apartment. The windows look like paintings too monotonously beautiful to hang in a museum. The furniture is made to look expensive, but was probably mass produced on some moon in the Betthanie system. The carpet makes the place marvelously soundproof. Eerily so.
The doors slide open silently, and Han walks in.
“Repairs are almost finished,” he announces. “Two or three more things and we’re in great shape.”
Leia turns to him. Worry is etched in lines above her nose, and her eyebrows are arched. “The sooner we go the better. Something’s wrong here. Where’s C-3PO? I haven’t seen him for hours, and no one can tell me anything.”
Han takes Leia by the shoulders. He gives her his best roguish smile. “Relax. I’ll talk to Lando. See what I can figure out.”
Leia shakes her head. “I don’t trust him.”
“Me neither!” Han laughs. “But he is my friend. And besides, we’ll be gone soon.”
The doors to the apartment open again. Chewbacca enters, carrying a box full of golden parts. An arm sticks forlornly up from the junk. The Wookiee roars.
“What happened?” Leia cries, running to him.
“Aaaaraarragh!”
“What?” Han exclaims. “You found him in a junk room?”
“Aaararararragh!”
“They were going to incinerate him?”
Leia looks desperately at the golden droid’s broken pieces. “Can he be fixed?”
“Lando’s got the men—”
At exactly the same time, Leia and Chewie say:
“No!” and
“Araragh!”
“Okay!” Han raises his arms. “Do it yourself, then!”
Chewbacca lowers himself onto a plush footstool, setting the box of droid parts before him. He gazes into it miserably.
Again the doors slide open. This time, it is the suave, smiling Lando Calrissian. He sweeps into the room, his cape swishing behind him like he’s some wealthy, complacent superhero.
“Princess!” he exclaims. He approaches her, takes her hand, and kisses it. “You look radiant! You really do belong with us here above the clouds.”
Han rolls his eyes.
“Would you care to join me for a little refreshment?” Lando continues, gazing into Leia’s face. She returns the stare coolly, and then looks to Han. “Oh, you’re all invited!” Lando adds. Han nods. Leia reclaims her hand.
Just then, Lando notices Chewbacca, who is holding C-3PO’s head in his great paws. “Having a little trouble with your droid?”
“No,” Han replies, brushing past him. “No trouble. Why?”
Lando shrugs and follows Han into the corridor.
As they walk through the glittering halls, Lando talks business. “You see, we’ve been a small enough operation not to fall under the, ah, jurisdiction of the Empire, you might say.”
Leia is ignoring him. She scans each door and corridor for signs of something wrong. All seems normal. Even this worries her.
Han is only half listening to his old friend. “You’re not afraid the Empire will find out?”
“Ah, well…not anymore.” They are approaching the dining room. “You see, we’ve recently made a deal that’ll keep us in business for a good long time.”
Han nods. Lando opens the formal dining room’s bright white door.
Han and Leia enter—and stop.
Standing at the head of a long, glittering dining table is Darth Vader.
LESSON UPSILON:
THE BEGINNING OF THE END
Now, my young pupil, we are coming to the most difficult tests. The final ones. Succeed in these, and you will not be a Jedi—not yet—but you will know that you can be. That you are truly walking the path.
Think of someone or something that infuriates you. Not a pet peeve—like someone peeing on a toilet seat (though that does make me want to take a lightsaber to the entire bathroom). Think of a time when you felt really hurt by something someone did or said. Or think about something that strikes you as so deeply unfair it is almost unbearable.
Let your mind explore those feelings. Your anger. Your rage. Your humiliation.
When I say go, I want you to stand and balance a book on your head. Close your eyes. Get someone to throw things at you again. As they do, raise your hands. If you can block the objects, good. If not, that’s okay, too.
As you balance that book, and sense the objects, I want you to spell your name backward. And then the city you live in. And then the state. And then the country. Keep blocking the objects.
And as you do all this, let the anger, the rage that you were feeling, just pass away. Let it lift from you, so you are standing straight and tall and calm. If you are doing it right, you may even start to smile. Despite the objects being thrown at you, and the book on your head, and the angry thoughts that had been exploding through your synapses just moments ago.
Why do you smile? Because it is pleasurable to be at peace.
Go.
HAN HAS NEVER known such pain.
It rushes through his body in waves—burning his calves, lacerating his thighs, making his stomach churn as if it’s being blended, straining his spine and neck until he’s certain they will snap, and then filling his head with such a pressure—such a terrible, building pressure—that he decides with what little consciousness he has left that the rest was merely a prelude, and that the real intention of all this has been to make his head explode.
Suddenly, the pain stops. Han gasps for breath. Every cubic millimeter of his body throbs, throbs, throbs.
Now come the questions, he thinks. He waits. He can hear Vader breathing, somewhere in the room. He must have been screaming, because his ears are ringing and his throat feels as if it’s been shredded. I’ll talk, Han wants to say. Just ask me and I’ll tell you. He never thought he would be the one to spill the Rebellion’s secrets. But he’s never felt pain like this.
There are no questions, though. Suddenly, the burning begins in his calves again, making its way up his thighs. “NO!” he screams. “PLEASE!”
Lando is waiting outside the door when Vader leaves the room.
“You said you wouldn’t hurt him!”
Vader sweeps by the old cardsharp to where Boba Fett, the bounty hunter, is waiting.
“Once I have Skywalker,” Vader intones, his voice a gentle tapping on the galaxy’s largest, deepest gong, “you may take him to Jabba the Hutt.”
“Hey!” Lando interjects. “That wasn’t what we agreed!”
Vader turns, slowly, his cape rustling. “Perhaps,” he says, “you’d like to renegotiate the agreement?”
Lando’s skin is suddenly cold, and his stomach feels like it’s being dangled off a bridge. He manages to stammer, “No…”
“Good.” Vader starts for the door. “Meet me in the carbon-freezing chamber in one half hour.” Boba Fett follows him down the corridor.
“This deal gets worse every second,” Lando mutters. He follows Vader into the corridor, but then turns left when Vader goes straight. He is hurrying down the shining halls, cursing every gratuitous piece of silver on every gratuitous window. It’s all gratuitous, Lando thinks. Pointless. Worthless. What have I done?
He comes to a door at the end of a hallway and punches a security code into a pad on the wall.
When the door slides open, Lando sees Leia crouched over Han, who looks like a broken doll, while Chewbacca works on reassembling C-3PO.
Han is whimpering. “They didn’t even ask me anything….” He seems more than half dead. Leia looks only a little bit better.
When they catch sight of Lando, Han attempts to rise. “Why, you—”
“Save it,” Lando snaps. “No time. Look, Vader’s agreed to turn Chewie and Leia over to me. They’ll have to stay here, but at least they’ll be safe.”
“And Han?” Leia asks, glaring steadily at Lando.
“Vader’s giving him to the bounty hunter.”
Han groans. “Then I’m dead.”
“He wants us all dead,” Leia adds.
But Lando shakes his head. “He doesn’t want you at all. He wants someone else. Someone called Skywalker.”
Leia closes her eyes, as if, somehow, she has known all along.
“Vader’s set a trap for him.”
“Of course,” Leia moans. “And we’re the bait.”
“This Skywalker is apparently already on his way.”
Han staggers to his feet, holding on to Leia and Lando for support. “Well, you fixed us pretty good, pal.”
“I’m sor—” Lando is arrested mid thought by a vicious left hook to the jaw. He falls. Han falls on top of him, still swinging. Lando hits Han in the mouth with an elbow.
“Stop!” C-3PO cries. His head has been reattached to his body. Backward. “Oh, stop that! You won’t solve anything that way!”
Chewie drops the droid and helps Leia tug the two men apart. The former friends stare at one another, gasping.
“I’ve done all I can—” Lando heaves. “I’m sorry. I’ve got my own problems.”
Han wipes blood from his mouth. “Yeah, you’re a real hero. Businessman.”
The word stings Lando like a swarm of Rattatakian redjackets. He rises and limps from the cell like a whipped dog. Han lowers himself, gingerly, onto a crate. Leia comes to his side, half smiling. “Well,” she says, “I must admit. You certainly have a way with people.”
The chamber is dark, like a great cave. Somewhere, a massive machine hums. Red lights blink along the walls of the room, while the floor glows a pulsating royal blue. At the chamber’s center, there is a pit.
Cool carbon gas seeps up from it, seeping into the corners and crevices of hulking industrial equipment.
Darth Vader is inspecting the pit. Boba Fett stands to his left. Lando is hanging back.
“I want Skywalker led in here,” Vader intones, his voice somehow even grander and more sinister in the cavernous steel room. “We will freeze him for transport back to the Emperor.”
“Lord Vader,” Lando says, “we only use this for carbon freezing. If you put this Skywalker in there, it might kill him.”
Vader exhales. He is thinking. At last, he says, “I do not want the Emperor’s prize damaged. We will test it…on Captain Solo.” Vader raises a hand, and four stormtroopers rush out into the corridor to retrieve the space pirate.
Vader’s fingers begin to explore the controls of the freezing unit, like a surgeon laying out his knives and scalpels. Carbon gas seeps into the room. Lando shivers.
A moment later, the stormtroopers reappear, flanking Han, Leia, and Chewbacca—with a partially assembled C-3PO strapped to the Wookiee’s back.
C-3PO is shouting. “Turn around, you overgrown mop! I can’t see a thing! How can I help if I can’t see?”
When Han glimpses Lando, he sneers. “Hey, buddy. What’s the party for?”
The group of prisoners is led to the edge of the pit.
Lando looks grim. “You’re being put into carbon freeze.”
“What if he doesn’t survive?” Boba Fett suddenly objects. “He’s worth a lot to me.”
Vader is not interested. “The Empire will compensate you if he dies. Put him in.” His fingers are now flying over the controls of the carbon-freezing unit.
“AAAARARARRAAAGH!”
Chewbacca swings his great arms, knocking two stormtroopers senseless. Two more leap onto him, while a third trains his blaster on the Wookiee’s chest.
“Oh, stop! Stop!” C-3PO screams.
“Save it, Chewie!” Han shouts. He puts an arm on his huge, hairy first mate. “Listen. I need you to keep your head. You gotta look out for Leia, okay? Don’t get killed.”
