Trilogy (20 page)

“Who? Who has he found?”

Artoo turned a flat blinking face toward Luke and whistled frantically.

“Princess Leia,” Threepio announced after listening carefully. “Senator Organa—they seem to be one and the same. I believe she may be the person in the message he was carrying.”

That three-dimensional portrait of indescribable beauty coalesced in Luke's mind again. “The Princess? She's here?”

Attracted by the commotion, Solo wandered over. “Princess? What's going on?”

“Where? Where is she?” Luke demanded breathlessly, ignoring Solo completely.

Artoo whistled on while Threepio translated. “Level five, detention block AA-23. According to the information, she is scheduled for slow termination.”

“No! We've got to do something.”

“What are you three blabbering about?” an exasperated Solo demanded.

“She's the one who programmed the message into Artoo Detoo,” Luke explained hurriedly, “the one we were trying to deliver to Alderaan. We've got to help her.”

“Now, just a minute,” Solo cautioned him. “This is going awful fast for me. Don't get any funny ideas. When I said I didn't have any ‘better ideas' I meant it. The old man said to wait here. I don't like it, but I'm not going off on some crazy maze through this place.”

“But Ben didn't know she was here,” Luke half pleaded, half argued. “I'm sure that if he knew he would have changed his plans.” Anxiety turned to thoughtfulness. “Now, if we could just figure a way to get into that detention block …”

Solo shook his head and stepped back. “Huh-uh—I'm not going into any Imperial detention blocks.”

“If we don't do something, they're going to execute her. A minute ago you said you didn't just want to sit here and wait to be captured. Now all you want to do is stay. Which is it, Han?”

The Corellian looked troubled—and confused. “Marching into a detention area's not what I had in mind. We're likely to end up there anyway—why rush it?”

“But they're going to execute her!”

“Better her than me.”

“Where's your sense of chivalry, Han?”

Solo considered. “Near as I can recall, I traded it for a ten-carat chrysopaz and three bottles of good brandy about five years ago on Commenor.”

“I've seen her,” Luke persisted desperately. “She's beautiful.”

“So's life.”

“She's a rich and powerful Senator,” Luke pressed, hoping an appeal to Solo's baser instincts might be more effective. “If we could save her, the reward could be substantial.”

“Uh … rich?” Then Solo looked disdainful. “Wait a minute … Reward, from whom? From the government on Alderaan?” He made a sweeping gesture toward the hangar and by implication the space where Alderaan had once orbited.

Luke thought furiously. “If she's being held here and is scheduled to be executed, that means she must be dangerous in some way to whoever destroyed Alderaan, to whoever had this station built. You can bet it had something to do with the Empire instituting a reign of full repression.

“I'll tell you who'll pay for her rescue, and for the information she holds. The Senate, the rebel Alliance, and every concern that did business with Alderaan. She could be the sole surviving heir of the off-world wealth of the entire system! The reward could be more wealth than you can imagine.”

“I don't know … I can imagine quite a bit.” He glanced at Chewbacca, who grunted a terse reply. Solo shrugged back at the big Wookiee. “All right, we'll give it a try. But you'd better be right about that reward. What's your plan, kid?”

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

A
S 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!”

G
overnor 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.