Trilogy (49 page)

Han had to admit that he was a bit hungry. But for some reason he could not quite name, he felt a wave of suspicion about his friend flood over him. He didn't remember
Calrissian being quite so polite, quite so smooth. Perhaps Leia was correct in her suspicions …

His thoughts were interrupted by Chewbacca's enthusiastic bark at the mention of food. The big Wookiee was licking his lips at the prospect of a hearty meal.

“Everyone's invited, of course,” Lando said.

Leia took Lando's proffered arm and, as the group moved toward the door, Calrissian glimpsed the box of golden robot parts. “Having problems with your droid?” he asked.

Han and Leia exchanged a quick glance. If Han was going to ask for Lando's help in repairing the droid, now was the moment. “An accident,” he grunted. “Nothing we can't handle.”

They left the lounge, leaving behind them the shattered remains of the protocol droid.

The group strolled through the long white corridors and Leia walked between Han and Lando. Han wasn't at all certain he liked the prospect of competing with Lando for Leia's affections—especially under the circumstances. But they were dependent on Lando's good graces now. They had no other choice.

Joining them as they walked was Lando's personal aide, a tall bald man dressed in a gray jacket with ballooning yellow sleeves. The aide wore a radio device that wrapped around the back of his head and covered both his ears. He walked along with Chewbacca a short distance behind Han, Leia, and Lando, and as they walked toward Lando's dining hall, the administrator described the status of his planet's government.

“So you see,” Lando explained, “we are a free station and do not fall under the jurisdiction of the Empire.”

“You're part of the mining guild then?” Leia asked.

“Not actually. Our operation is small enough not to be noticed. Much of our trade is, well … unofficial.”

They stepped onto a veranda that overlooked the spiraled top of Cloud City. From here they saw several flying cloud cars gracefully swooping around the beautiful spired buildings of the city. It was a spectacular view, and the visitors were very impressed.

“It's a lovely outpost,” Leia marveled.

“Yes, we're proud of it,” Lando replied. “You'll find the air quite special here … very stimulating.” He smiled at Leia meaningfully. “You could grow to like it.”

Han didn't miss Lando's flirtatious glance—and he didn't like it, either. “We don't plan on staying that long,” he said brusquely.

Leia raised an eyebrow and glanced mischievously at the now fuming Han Solo. “I find it most relaxing.”

Lando chuckled, and led them from the veranda. They approached the dining hall with its massive closed doors and, as they paused in front of them, Chewbacca lifted his head and sniffed the air curiously. He turned and barked urgently at Han.

“Not now, Chewie,” Han reproved, turning to Calrissian. “Lando, aren't you afraid the Empire might eventually discover this little operation and shut you down?”

“That's always been the danger,” the administrator replied. “It's loomed like a shadow over everything we've built here. But circumstances have developed which will insure security. You see, I've made a deal that will keep the Empire out of here forever.”

With that the mighty doors slid open—and immediately Han understood just what that “deal” must have involved.
At the far end of the huge banquet table stood the bounty hunter Boba Fett.

Fett stood next to a chair that held the black essence of evil itself—Darth Vader. Slowly the Dark Lord rose to his full, menacing two-meter height.

Han shot his meanest look at Lando.

“Sorry, friend,” Lando said, sounding mildly apologetic. “I had no choice. They arrived right before you did.”

“I'm sorry, too,” Han snapped. In that instant, he cleared his blaster from its holster, aimed it directly at the figure in black, and began to pump laser bolts Vader's way.

But the man who may have been the fastest draw in the galaxy was not fast enough to surprise Vader. Before those bolts zipped halfway across the table, the Dark Lord had lifted a gauntlet-protected hand and effortlessly deflected them so they exploded against the wall in a harmless spray of flying white shards.

Astounded by what he had just seen, Han tried firing again. But before he could discharge another laser blast, something—something unseen yet incredibly strong—yanked the weapon from his hand and sent it flying into Vader's grip. The raven figure calmly placed the weapon on top of the dining table.

Hissing through his obsidian mask, the Dark Lord addressed his would-be assailant. “We would be honored if you joined us.”

A
rtoo-Detoo felt the rain plunking on top of his metal dome as he trudged through the muddy puddles of the bog. He was headed for the sanctuary of Yoda's little hut,
and soon his optical sensors picked up the golden glow shining through its windows. As he neared the inviting house, he felt a robot's relief that at last he would get out of this annoying, persistent rain.

But when he tried to pass through the entrance he discovered that his inflexible droid body just could not get in; he tried from one angle, then from another. At last the perception that he was simply the wrong shape to get in seeped into his computer mind.

He could scarcely believe his sensors. As he peered into the house, he scanned a busy figure, bustling about the kitchen, stirring steaming pots, chopping this and that, running back and forth. But the figure in Yoda's tiny kitchen, doing Yoda's kitchen tasks, was not the Jedi Master—but his apprentice.

Yoda, it appeared from Artoo's scan, was simply sitting back observing his young pupil from the adjacent room, and quietly smiling. Then suddenly, in the midst of all his kitchen activity, Luke paused, as if a painful vision had appeared before him.

Yoda noticed Luke's troubled look. As he watched his student, three glow-ball seekers appeared from behind Yoda and noiselessly shot through the air to attack the young Jedi from behind. Instantly Luke turned to face them, a pot lid in one hand and a spoon in the other.

The seekers sent one rocketing bolt after another directly at Luke. But, with astounding skill, he warded off every one. He knocked one of the seekers toward the open door where Artoo stood watching his master's performance. But the faithful droid saw the shining ball too late to avoid the bolt it shot at him. The impact knocked the shrieking robot onto the ground with a
clunk
that nearly shook loose his electronic insides.

Later that evening, after the student had successfully passed a number of his teacher's tests, a weary Luke Skywalker finally fell asleep on the ground outside Yoda's house. He slept fitfully, tossing and softly moaning. His concerned droid stood by him, reaching out an extension arm and covering Luke with the blanket that had slipped halfway off. But when Artoo started to roll away, Luke began to groan and shudder as if in the grip of some horrible nightmare.

Inside the house, Yoda heard the groans and hurried to his doorway.

Luke awoke from his sleep with a start. Dazed, he looked about him, then saw his teacher worriedly watching him from his house. “I can't keep the vision out of my head,” Luke told Yoda. “My friends … they're in trouble … and I feel that—”

“Luke, you must not go,” Yoda warned.

“But Han and Leia will die if I don't.”

“You don't know that.” It was the whispered voice of Ben, who was beginning to materialize before them. The dark-robed figure stood, a shimmering image, and told Luke, “Even Yoda cannot see their fate.”

But Luke was deeply worried about his friends and was determined to do something. “I can help them!” he insisted.

“You're not ready yet,” Ben said gently. “You still have much to learn.”

“I feel the Force,” Luke said.

“But you cannot control it. This is a dangerous stage for you, Luke. You are now most susceptible to the temptations of the dark side.”

“Yes, yes,” Yoda added. “To Obi-Wan you listen, young one. The tree. Remember your failure at the tree! Heh?”

Painfully, Luke remembered, though he felt he had gained a great deal of strength and understanding in that experience. “I've learned much since then. And I'll return to finish. I promise that, master.”

“You underestimate the Emperor,” Ben told him gravely. “It is you he wants. That is why your friends suffer.”

“And that,” Luke said, “is why I must go.”

Kenobi was firm. “I will not lose you to the Emperor as I once lost Vader.”

“You won't.”

“Only a fully trained Jedi Knight, with the Force as his ally, will conquer Vader and his Emperor,” Ben emphasized. “If you end your training now, if you choose the quick and easy path—as Vader did—you will become an agent of evil, and the galaxy will be plunged deeper into the abyss of hate and despair.”

“Stopped they must be,” Yoda interjected. “Do you hear? On this
all
depends.”

“You are the last Jedi, Luke. You are our only hope. Be patient.”

“And sacrifice Han and Leia?” the youth asked incredulously.

“If you honor what they fight for,” Yoda said, pausing for a long moment, “…  yes!”

Great anguish overcame Luke. He wasn't certain that he could reconcile the advice of these two great mentors with his own feelings. His friends were in terrible danger, and of course he must save them. But his teachers thought he was not ready, that he might be too vulnerable to the powerful Vader and his Emperor, that he might bring harm to his friends and himself—and possibly be lost forever on the path of evil.

Yet how could he fear these abstract things when Han
and Leia were real and were suffering? How could he permit himself to fear possible danger to himself when his friends were presently in real danger of death?

There was no longer any question in his mind as to what he had to do.

I
t was dusk the next day on the bog planet when Artoo-Detoo settled himself into his nook behind the cockpit of Luke's X-wing fighter.

Yoda stood on one of the storage cases, watching Luke load the cases one by one into the fighter's underbelly as he worked in the glow of the X-wing's lights.

“I cannot protect you, Luke,” the voice of Ben Kenobi came, as his robed figure took solid form. “If you choose to face Vader, you will do it alone. Once you've made this decision, I cannot interfere.”

“I understand,” Luke replied calmly. Then, turning to his droid, he said, “Artoo, fire up the power converters.”

Artoo, who had already unfastened the power couplings on the ship, whistled happily, grateful to be leaving this dismal bog world, which was certainly no place for a droid.

“Luke,” Ben advised, “use the Force only for knowledge and for defense, not as a weapon. Don't give in to hate or anger. They lead the way to the dark side.”

Luke nodded, only half-listening. His mind was on the long journey and on the difficult tasks ahead of him. He must save his friends, whose lives were in danger because of him. He climbed into the cockpit, then looked at his little Jedi Master.

Yoda was deeply concerned about his apprentice. “Strong is Vader,” he warned ominously. “Clouded is
your fate. Mind what you have learned. Notice
everything
, everything! It can save you.”

“I will, Master Yoda,” Luke assured him. “I will and I'll be back to finish what I have begun. I give you my word!”

Artoo closed the cockpit and Luke started the engines.

Yoda and Obi-Wan Kenobi watched the X-wing gear its engines and begin to move away for take-off.

“Told you, I did,” Yoda said sorrowfully, as the sleek fighter craft began to lift into the misty heavens. “Reckless is he. Now things are going to worse.”

“That boy is our last hope,” Ben Kenobi said, his voice heavy with emotion.

“No,” Kenobi's former teacher corrected with a knowing gleam in his large eyes, “there is another.”

Yoda lifted his head toward the darkening sky where Luke's ship was already a barely distinguishable point of light among the flickering stars.

XII

C
HEWBACCA THOUGHT HE WAS GOING
mad!

The prison cell was flooded with hot, blinding light that seared his sensitive Wookiee eyes. Not even his huge hands and hairy arms, thrust up over his face, could entirely protect him from the glare. And to add to his misery, a high-pitched whistle blared into the cubicle, tormenting his keen sense of hearing. He roared in agony, but his guttural roars were drowned out by the piercing, screeching noise.

The Wookiee paced back and forth within the confines of the cell. Moaning pitifully, he pounded at the thick walls in desperation, wanting someone, anyone, to come and free him. While he pounded, the whistle that had nearly exploded his eardrums suddenly stopped and the deluge of light flickered and went out.