“Who?” Luke asked before Han could.
“Why, Princess Leia, sir.”
“The princess?” Luke cried. “She’s here?”
Han blinked. “Princess? What’s going on?”
“Indeed,” Threepio said, interpreting Artoo’s beeping for them. “Level five. Detention block AA twenty-three. I’m…I’m afraid she’s scheduled to be terminated.”
Han could have groaned. If anything was going to light an unwanted fire under Luke, a damsel in distress was. Still…the name sounded familiar. Princess Leia…Leia…Where had he heard that before?
“We’ve got to do something!” Luke said.
“What are you even talking about?” Han asked.
“The droid—Artoo—he belongs to her. She recorded a message for Ben to find, saying she needed his help delivering something stored on the droid to her father on Alderaan.”
Yikes. Unless her father had left the planet before it was destroyed, no one was delivering anything to anyone.
“Now, look,” Han began, “don’t get any funny ideas. The old man wants us to wait right here.”
It was like he hadn’t spoken at all. Luke ignored him and turned back to the droids. “Can you find a way into the detention block?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Han said. He’d hang around long enough for the old man to disable the tractor beam, and then he was gone. With or without the kid.
No…that wasn’t true. He wouldn’t leave without the kid. Luke would get himself killed. An unwanted fear gripped Han’s stomach, turning it over.
“They’re going to execute her!” Luke said. “Look, a few minutes ago you said you didn’t want to just wait here to be captured. Now all you want to do is stay.”
Nice tactic, turning Han’s words against him. Smooth, kid.
“Marching into the detention area is not what I had in mind. They’ll execute us, too, if we’re caught.”
Something lit behind Luke’s eyes, and when he looked at Han again, there was a small knowing smile on his face. “She’s rich.”
Chewbacca swiveled toward the kid, suddenly interested, and growled.
“Rich?” Han repeated slowly. “How rich are we talking?”
“Listen,” Luke began. “If you were to rescue her, the reward would be…”
Han caught himself leaning forward. “What?”
“Well, more wealth than you can imagine!” Luke finished.
“I don’t know. I can imagine quite a bit!” Enough to swim through, roll around in, and maybe buy himself his own personal island on a planet where Jabba could never find him.
“And you’ll get it! All of it!”
Han leaned back against the console, crossing his arms over his chest as he considered that. Any amount he could dream up, huh? A reward of that magnitude would get Jabba off his back and set him up for—what, exactly? Going legal with his business? Buying some property and settling down? Chewie had a family to support, but what would Han even do with the money, other than put it back into the Falcon or buy a new ship?
The kid could dream all he wanted about being a big-shot hero, rescuing princesses, but Han was just a normal guy trying to keep his skin—and, if he could, rescue the dreamers from their delusions. Casting a worried look at Luke, Han tried to imagine a scenario where the kid would be able to make it out of the battle station without his help. Luke might have had the heart, but there were times you had to be heartless to survive.
But if Han were being honest…he would admit that it stung, just a little bit, that the kid assumed everything he did was for money.
“I’d better,” he told Luke. “All of it.”
Han looked at Chewie, waiting for his grunt of agreement. When he had it, he asked, “What’s your plan?”
Luke glanced around, eyes catching on something on the console. “Threepio—can you hand me those binders?”
Holding the binders, he took a step closer to Chewie. “Okay. Now I’m going to put these on you….”
Chewie liked that idea about as much as he liked getting haircuts. He let out a furious roar, pride ruffled.
“Er, okay. Han, you put them on….” Luke quickly shoved the binders into Han’s hands.
“Don’t worry, Chewie. I think I know what he has in mind. Easy, buddy. You know it’s just pretend,” Han assured him.
Still, his heart gave a little jerk over how worried Chewie looked as Han snapped the electronic binders in place.
“Master Luke, sir!” Threepio said. “Pardon me for asking, but what should Artoo and I do if we’re discovered here?”
Luke picked up his stormtrooper helmet again. “Lock the door!”
“And hope they don’t have blasters,” Han added.
THE MOMENT THE elevator doors slid open on the detention block, Han knew they were in trouble.
“This isn’t going to work,” he muttered.
“Why didn’t you say so before?” Luke hissed back.
“I did say so before!” At least five times since they had left the control room. It wasn’t Han’s fault Luke heard only what he wanted to hear.
The detention block was everything Han didn’t want it to be: well-protected by laser gates and cameras and well-manned by a half dozen security officers. One of those officers looked up from the processing station as Han, Luke, and Chewie approached. His lip peeled back in disgust as he looked the Wookiee over.
“Where are you taking this…thing?”
Han held his breath, fighting to keep his temper in check.
“Prisoner transfer from block one-one-three-eight,” Luke said. Han was proud of how smoothly the lie rolled off the kid’s tongue. Maybe Han was rubbing off on him after all.
“I wasn’t notified.” The security officer’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll have to clear it.”
Blast. Han cast another nervous look around, sizing up the room as the officer walked back to the console. They were two seconds away from having a hole shot right through their story. As Luke stepped forward, Han subtly reached over and unfastened one of Chewie’s binders with a shrug.
Chewbacca wasted no time. He threw his arms up with a roar that frightened even Han. The Wookiee yanked the blaster free from Han’s hands and began to fire.
“Look out!” Han shouted. “He’s loose!”
“He’s going to pull us apart!” Luke cried, overdoing it just a bit.
The security officers gaped at them, confused. It was the opening Han and Luke needed to pull out their own blasters. Luke quickly caught on that while Han was aiming in Chewie’s general direction, all his shots were going wide—hitting cameras, the laser gate controls, and finally the guards themselves.
A silence fell over the detention block as the last of the security officers slumped forward. Han’s ears were ringing too loudly for him to hear the faint alarm chirping from the processing station. When he did, his pulse kicked up a notch.
He pulled off his helmet and rushed over to the console, scanning through the list of prisoners. “Here it is….Your princess is in cell twenty-one eight-seven. Go get her—I’ll hold them off.”
Luke nodded, then scampered up the stairs to the long dark row of cells. Han took a deep breath and cleared his throat, his finger poised above the comlink. One of them must have grazed it with a shot because it was still sparking and smoking as he pushed the button to establish a connection.
“Everything is under control,” he said in his best official, yes-I-belong-here voice. “Situation normal.”
“What happened?” a voice crackled through the still-smoking intercom. Han jumped as a spark shot out of it.
“Uh…we had a slight weapons malfunction.” His voice sounded painfully awkward to his own ears, so he could only imagine what the person on the other end was thinking. “But, um, everything’s perfectly all right now. We’re fine. We’re all fine here, now, thank you. How are you?”
He cringed.
“We’re sending a squad up,” came the immediate response.
<
br /> “Uh, um, negative, negative. We have a reactor leak here now. Give us a few minutes to lock it down. Large leak…very, uh, dangerous.”
“Who is this? What’s your operating number?”
Oh, well. Han leaned back, blasting out the comlink entirely. “Boring conversation anyway.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted down the hall. “Luke! We’re going to have company!”
Chewie howled a question to him from where he stood by the door, blaster at the ready.
“I just jammed the doors,” Han told him. “They won’t be able to get in—”
There was a low, terrifying buzz from the other side of the thick metal doors.
“Get behind me! Get behind me!” Han shouted. The Wookiee scampered away, falling back closer to the cells. The rattle of explosions on the other side of the door shook Han down to his bones. He knew the moment they had broken through. The wave of heat that came off the door singed his skin.
Then the stormtroopers began to pour through the opening they’d made.
Han coughed against the smoke and fiery air as he and Chewie turned and ran up the hallway of cells. They nearly collided with Luke and—
It wasn’t often that Han found himself caught off guard. But standing in front of him, big brown eyes blazing, face bright from the short run she’d just taken, dark hair falling out of ridiculous coils around her ears, was one of the loveliest women Han had ever seen. That face—where had he seen that face?
“Can’t get out that way,” he managed, when he remembered they were in danger of being fried into little crispy versions of themselves.
The princess’s gaze sharpened. “Looks like you managed to cut off our only escape route.”
Her tone was designed to cut and did. The soft-focus dreams in his head evaporated. He turned back to the approaching stormtroopers and fired off another shot. “Maybe you’d like it back in your cell, Your Highness?”
Luke pulled Han and the princess into an alcove behind him. He tugged the comlink transmitter off his utility belt, trying to talk and fire at the same time. “See-Threepio! See-Threepio!”
“Yes, sir?” The droid was barely audible over the comlink.
“We’ve been cut off! Are there any other ways out of the detention block?…What was that? I didn’t copy!”
If the droid responded, Han didn’t hear it. His entire focus was on the seemingly endless stream of stormtroopers pushing through the hole in the doors. Chewie fell back even closer to Han, casting a worried look in his direction. If they didn’t get going soon, they were going to become permanent residents.
Chewie yelped as a laser shot came within millimeters of taking off his nose.
“There isn’t any other way out!” Luke called.
Of course. Of course. “I can’t hold them off forever!” Han yelled. “Now what?”
“This is some rescue,” the princess said. “When you came in here, didn’t you have a plan for getting out?”
Han jerked a thumb back toward Luke. “He’s the brains, sweetheart.”
Luke, at least, looked a little sheepish. “Well, I didn’t—”
Without missing a beat, the princess ripped the blaster rifle out of the kid’s hands and spun toward Han. With startling accuracy, she shot out a grate just behind him, sending the scorched metal flying.
“What are you doing?” Han cried.
“Somebody has to save our skins!” she shouted, fire in her eyes. She gestured toward the hole she’d created. “Into the garbage chute, fly boy!”
Huh. Once again, Han found himself mostly speechless. He had expected tears. Grateful kisses, maybe. Not a tiny wisp of a girl with the bite of an acklay. She must have had Vader cowering in fear.
The princess fired a shot as she crossed from one side of the hall to the other. She tossed the gun back to Luke and dove into the chute. Chewbacca dropped back with a pitiful whine after taking a deep whiff of the opening.
“Get in there, you big furry oaf! I don’t care what you smell!”
Han gave him a kick, sending his copilot through the tiny hole. Luke ducked to his side of the hall, backing Han up with his rifle. The kid seemed a bit too excited to be seeing—if Han had to guess—his first real firefight.
“Wonderful girl!” Han told him. “Either I’m going to kill her or I’m beginning to like her. Get in there!”
Luke threw him an exasperated look but jumped into the darkness of the opening. Han fired off a few more quick shots to create a cover of smoke, then dove headfirst down the chute—
Right into some of the foulest muck and garbage the galaxy had ever seen. Clumps of half-rotted garbage swirled with the waste that was being pumped in from the bathrooms. Sticky flecks of blackened fruit and unidentifiable food clung to battered crates and scrap metal. Han gagged as he came up for air, grateful he’d kept his mouth closed as he came down. There was a single light overhead, illuminating just how little there was to see. Chewie had found a small platform leading to a hatch but was clearly struggling to get it open. The sound of Luke sloshing around, up to his waist in crud, bounced off the impossibly high walls.
“Here, Leia,” Luke said. “Let me help you.”
Leia, huh? Not Princess or Your Highness? Look at the kid, already on a first-name basis with royalty. Too bad she didn’t want his help as she climbed up onto some kind of overturned crate. The darkness and damp air made Han feel like they’d landed right in a swamp.
“The garbage chute was a wonderful idea. What an incredible smell you’ve discovered!” Han said sarcastically. “Let’s get out of here. Move, Chewie.”
“No!” Luke shouted. “Wait!”
But Han had already raised his gun and fired at the hatch. He watched in horror as the bolt bounced off the metal and ricocheted around the compartment. The princess and Luke both dove for cover in the garbage and Chewie howled in outrage.
“I already tried it!” Luke said. “It’s magnetically sealed.”
The princess rounded on Han, furious. She looked like she wanted to strangle him. “Put that thing away! You’re going to get us all killed!”
Han gave a mocking salute. “Look, I had everything under control until you led us down here. You know, it’s not going to take them long to figure out what happened to us.”
The girl had the nerve to stick her chin up, looking down her nose at him. “It could be worse.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, an inhuman moan bellowed through the small chamber. Chewie threw himself against the hatch, actually cowering.
“Surprise!” Han said. “It’s worse!”
She glared at him.
He glared at her.
Han was vaguely aware of Luke’s saying, “I think there’s something alive in here!” before Han rounded on the princess and muttered, “Still waiting on that ‘Thank you for rescuing me from my imminent execution.’ You might be a princess but you’ve got less manners than I do!”
If Han had been standing even one centimeter closer to her, he had no doubt the smirk would have been slapped clear off his face.
“How dare you!” Leia said, her voice strained—not just with anger but with some other emotion that sounded suspiciously like pain. “I’m a senator—I was a senator!”
Even in her anger, real grief shadowed her eyes. The sight momentarily brought Han up short. They’d all had a bad day, but hers had clearly been the worst of all.
“I think something just moved past my leg…” Luke said, climbing over a floating pole somewhere behind Han.
“Congratulations, Your Worshipfulness,” Han said finally. “Do you expect me to kiss your hand? Or will a bow and a little groveling suffice?”
“Look—did you see that?” Luke might have pointed at something, but Han waved him off, his whole attention focused on the little thermal detonator in a white dress, steaming and spitting at him like she was about to go off.
“Like you know anything about manners, you overgrown ape!”
“Guy
s—seriously—”
The anxiety in Luke’s voice made Han turn toward him.
“It’s your imagination, kid—”
Luke let out a hoarse cry as he was violently yanked down into the waste and muck, disappearing from sight.
HAN STARED AT the ripple in the slime-coated water where Luke had been standing no more than a second before. Disbelief held him hostage for a moment, and then, to his surprise, it was fear that exploded out of him. Not only because letting Luke die would probably void his deal with Ben but because no one, especially not an innocent kid, deserved to drown under scummy Imperial garbage.
Han scrambled toward the spot where the kid had gone under. “Luke! Luke!”
Blast it all—he couldn’t have lost the kid, not already, not yet, not ever.
“Luke!” Leia screamed, digging under the garbage.
The disgusting water sprayed up around them as Luke broke through the surface. A slimy green tentacle was wrapped around his neck, keeping him in a stranglehold.
“Grab on!” Leia said, extending a long silver pole toward him.
“Shoot it!” Luke gasped out. “My gun’s jammed—”
“Where?” Han said, trying to aim.
“Anywhere!” Luke screamed, then was pulled under again.
Han shot down into the muck, hoping against hope he wasn’t about to hit the kid’s leg. He should have tried grabbing for Luke instead, because once he caught sight of the creature’s single bulbous red eye with a slit pupil, he knew exactly what they were dealing with: a dianoga. Trash monster. Garbage squid. They infested city sewers, scavenging for food with their tentacles, and once they found a meal they wouldn’t give it up without a fight. He didn’t even want to guess how one had ended up on a battle station.
“Luke!” Han shouted, frantically trying to aim. He was a good shot, but he was shooting blind!
A metallic clang boomed through his ears, so hard the chamber seemed to shake with it. Han kept his focus on clearing the muck, trying to search for any sign of life. There was a beat of silence, and then Luke launched himself up through the water again, gasping and coughing.
Star Wars: New Hope: The Princess, the Scoundrel, and the Farm Boy: Being the Story of Luke Skywalker, Darth Vader, and the Rise of the Rebellion (Novel) Page 8