Luke switched off his lightsaber, plunging the room into thick, oily shadows, but he reached forward to rub his fingers on the edges of Maizor's brain jar. Fizzing bubbles continued to curl through the nutrient fluids, but the brain hung motionless.
"Is there anything we can do for you?" Luke asked. "I might be able to help you find peace in your existence."
A harsh, hiccoughing sound came from the voice synthesizer. “No, Jedi. The B'omarr monks have already given as much solace as they could. What you must do for me is stop the Hutts' plan. Humiliate them. The spider legs rocked back and forth. I will remain here alone --and continue to laugh at Jabba. That is my reward.”
CHAPTER 3
Since their banthas had run off, leaving them stranded at Jabba's palace, Han suggested to Luke that they investigate the vehicle hangars in the lower levels. Together, the two of them might be able to reassemble a functioning speeder so they could make good time away from the ruins. Luke agreed, his mind preoccupied with his real reason for wanting to come to Tatooine.
Under the flickering light of old glowpanels, Han tinkered with the mechanical subsystems of damaged vehicles. The scrapped engines and hull parts were all that remained after the frantic mass exodus of Jabba's minions. Because of rumors and superstitious fear, Jawas and other scavengers had not dared to come steal away what was left, so dismantled skiffs and flyers remained in the maintenance bay, salvaged for parts.
Han and Luke worked together, swapping out components, making modifications from what they had on hand. At last they operated a clanking mechanical side door, letting the wash of yellow sunlight scour the filthy hangar bay.
They climbed aboard two battered swoops that reminded Luke of the speeder bikes he and his sister, Leia, had ridden so recklessly through the forests on Endor.
Luke sat on the dented metal seat, trying to be comfortable on the scraps of the petrified leather covering. "It's been a long time since I did something like this," Luke said. "Feels good."
"Just like old times, kid." Han powered up the humming repulsor-lifts. "Let's head back to Mos Eisley Spaceport so we can get out of here."
"Wait, Han," Luke said with a pensive expression. "There's something I have to do first. We'll need to make a side trip, circle around to the Jundland Wastes."
Han looked at him, pursing his lips, then he nodded. "Yeah, I thought you had something else on your mind from the way you were acting. Anything to do with Callista?"
Luke nodded, but gave no details.
"I guess I should know by now that when I'm with a Jedi, nothing's simple and straightforward," Han said.
As events continued around him, Luke forced himself to keep moving, proceeding to the next step, hoping that he would find some clue at his next destination.
The news of the Hutts' secret plan alarmed him, but his heart ached at being separated from Callista. He longed to be with her. He longed to help her.
Following threads of the Force, he and Callista had connected with each other's personalities from the very first. They had linked like two pieces of a precise puzzle. Callista was right for Luke, and he was right for her. Being Jedi, they knew it in a way that few other lovers could understand.
Though Callista had been born decades before Luke, her spirit had been frozen within the computer of the automated Dreadnaught Eye of Palpatine. Luke had fallen in love with Callista's luminous form, until she came back to life in the body of one of his brilliant students, who had sacrificed herself to destroy the Dreadnaught.
Now Callista was physically whole again.
Flesh and blood. Beautiful. They could be together.
But in a devastating irony, Callista had lost all her Jedi abilities in the transformation. She was alive again, but not the same, not .completely there. They could no longer link with each other, mind and spirit. They'd had only those heady days to remember, trapped together aboard the Eye of Palpatine.
But it was enough to galvanize the deep love between them and make them keep trying to find an answer.
Luke would never give up until he found a way to bring Callista back whole. ...
He stood anxious and alone, feeling like a prodigal son outside the ramshackle, collapsed hut that had once been the home of Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Han waited by his repaired swoop, drinking the last of their water. Luke had forgone his share, building up his mental energy through concentration. They would be at the Mos Eisley Spaceport soon, no matter what happened at the ruins of Obi-Wan's dwelling.
Luke swallowed and stepped forward, his footsteps crunching in the silence. He had not been here in many years. The door had fallen off its hinges; part of the clay front wall had fallen in. Boulders and crumbled adobe jammed the entrance. A pair of small, screeching desert rodents snapped at him and fled for cover; Luke ignored them.
Gingerly, he ducked low and stepped into the home of his first mentor.
Light slanted in from cracks in the walls.
Dust motes drifted like gold dust through the sunbeams. The place smelled of mustiness, empty shadows, and ghosts. Unlike Jabba's palace, however, scavengers had had no qualms about cleaning Ben Kenobi's abode of everything of the slightest value. The stove and heater units had been removed, leaving only vacant notches in the clay walls. Ben's sleeping pallet had been stripped down to its splintered frame.
Shreds of cloth, long since turned into nests for rodents and insects, lay wadded in the corners.
Luke stood in the middle of the room breathing deeply, turning around, trying to sense the presence he desperately needed to see. This was the place where Obi-Wan Kenobi had told Luke of the Force. Here, the old man had first given Luke his lightsaber and hinted at the truth about his father, "from a certain point of view," dispelling the diversionary story that Uncle Owen had told, at the same time planting seeds of his own deceptions.
Luke pulled out his lightsaber and gripped the handle, but did not switch it on. After he had lost his father's weapon on Cloud City , Luke had built a new lightsaber that belonged to him and no one else--not an artifact from the past. He had forged his own path in the absence of his teachers.
It seemed that Obi-Wan and Yoda had begun to prepare him, but had left Luke with so many questions, so much knowledge unlearned ... and the insane Joruus C'baoth could tell him only perversions of what a true Jedi needed to know. The Emperor had shown Luke dark side ways, but Luke needed to understand so much more.
He needed to know how to save Callista.
"Ben," he said and closed his eyes, calling out with his mind as well as his voice. He tried to penetrate the invisible walls of the Force and reach to the luminous being of Obi-Wan Kenobi who had visited him numerous times, before saying he could never speak with Luke again.
"Ben, I need you," Luke said.
Circumstances had changed. He could think of no other way past the obstacles he faced.
Obi-Wan had to answer. It wouldn't take long, but it could give him the key he needed with all his heart.
Luke paused and listened and sensed-- But felt nothing. If he could not summon Obi-Wan's spirit here in the empty dwelling where the old man had lived in exile for so many years, Luke didn't believe he could find his former teacher ever again.
He echoed the words Leia had used more than a decade earlier, beseeching him, "Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi," Luke whispered, "you're my only hope."
Luke waited again, trembling faintly. He had tried everything he knew. Callista had undergone other training in her own years as a Jedi.
She knew things Luke had never imagined--but even she knew of no way to tear away the smothering blanket around her, the blindness that prevented her from using the Force.
"Ben, please!" Luke cried. His body shivered with the intensity of his desperation and dwindling hope. The empty hut sat around him holding only memories.
Nothing.
Silence.
Emptiness.
Obi-Wan was not there. The old Jedi teacher would not come. Luke knelt down in the di
rt on the floor, scrabbling in the dust for some sign, some other message, as realization sank in.
He would get no help from Obi-Wan after all.
Luke swallowed his despair, vowing never to give up. He lifted his chin and clamped his lips together in a grim, determined line.
Perhaps that was the message: Obi-Wan's silence, proving to him that Luke was a Jedi Knight himself. He could not rely on Ben Kenobi or Yoda or others to help him. He controlled his own destiny. He was no longer just a student. Luke would have to solve his own problems.
His resolve hardened within him. No, he had not tried everything. He would search the galaxy with Callista. He would find the answer one way or another.
Luke stood up and clipped the lightsaber to his belt again. He had no need to draw it.
He looked around with one last twinge of hope that he might see a glowing outline, the old man nodding to him, reaffirming that Luke's answer was the correct one. But he sensed nothing.
When he stepped back out, the blazing sunlight washed over him like a cleansing flood. He took a deep breath and went to meet Han.
Han Solo stood in the shade beside his floating swoop and wiped sweat from his forehead. "Well, kid?" he asked. "Find what you were looking for?"
"No ..." Luke said, "and yes."
Han shook his head. "Leave it to a Jedi never to give you a straight answer."
"In this case, there is no straight answer, Han. I'm done with Tatooine," Luke said.
"We can go back to Mos Eisley now. We have to warn the New Republic what the Hutts are up to."
HOTH ASTEROID BELT
CHAPTER 4
A storm of rocks swept across space, colliding and smashing with enough force to crush boulders-- or spaceships--to powder.
The Hoth Asteroid Belt was a nightmarish hazard to navigation. A few fragments collided with the Orko SkyMine ship's forward deflector shields, then vanished into bright plumes of vaporized dust.
On the foredeck Durga the Hutt rested on his levitating platform like a slab of raw flesh, watching through the command viewports. Durga saw only one thing as he watched the colliding asteroids: resources. Vast untapped resources containing every sort of metal and mineral that could be of use to the Hutts' new secret project.
"Increase deflector shields," Durga said, puffing his cheeks and stretching the smeared birthmark across the left side of his head.
His minions scrambled to do his bidding.
Weequays, Gamorreans, human slaves, and others clustered about the expeditionary ship's controls, bickering about how best to implement the order. Durga was not impressed with the intelligence or the free-thinking abilities of his contracted employees--but he had not hired them for those qualities.
Beside the sluglike Hutt, Imperial General Sulamar turned from a status screen and snapped to attention. Always obsessively attentive to protocol, the general kept his uniform trim and pressed, with edges that could have cut Mandalorian iron. The left breast of his uniform was plastered with a treasure chest of medals from previous campaigns he had won (about which he never ceased blabbering). He smiled grimly, a sallow-faced, flinty-eyed man who looked somehow small inside his uniform, as if he were actually no more than a frightened boy trapped in a grown-up disguise.
"Mineral Exploiter Alpha has already begun its hunting and processing routine,” General Sulamar said. "Mineral Exploiter Beta has just been unleashed." He clicked his black heels together. "I trust the profits for Orko SkyMine will be up this quarter?"
"They better be," Durga said. "Move us forward so I can observe the mining activities." He gestured with one small, slimy hand.
Orko SkyMine was merely a sham corporation that the Hutt crime empire had put together to disguise their expenses--a false commercial venture that would exploit the untapped Hoth Asteroid Belt. They had wanted a remote location and limitless resources for their secret project. The incredibly complex and expensive Mineral Exploiter was the first step in what would be the Hutts' eventual domination of the galaxy.
"We're tracking Beta, sir," one of the human technicians said. "Moving forward to get within view."
"Make sure you steer clear of those asteroids, Navigator," General Sulamar snapped, making his voice deeper and gruffer, as he always did when issuing orders.
Durga gave a guttural growl. "I am in command of this ship, General. I will give the orders here."
Sulamar bowed in embarrassment and took a step backward. "My apologies, Lord Durga."
Durga narrowed his huge coppery eyes, then turned to the navigator. "You heard the general," he said. "Do as he says!"
As the Orko SkyMine expeditionary ship threaded its way through the colliding rocks, Durga eased forward. He blinked his thick-lidded eyes, trying to spot the metallic blip against the starfield.
As they approached, the mammoth ore-processing unit began to stand out, gleaming and sparkling, a flurry of motion. A magnificent machine, Durga thought as he saw the hulk--a giant cargo container with a front end of moving mechanical mouthparts and turbolaser turrets to blast asteroids to rubble.
It stuffed the rubble into a giant processing maw, chewed it up, spit out the useless slag, and kept its precious ingots of worthwhile metals. The newly designed automated Mineral Exploiters had a simple mission: sophisticated sensors directed the behemoths to hunt down the highest and purest concentrations of metals out in the asteroid belt and to dismantle the rocks and exploit the treasure.
"They seem to be functioning perfectly,” Sulamar said, again snapping to attention after he studied the diagnostic screen. "You have every confidence in their abilities?"
Durga let loose a deep belly laugh. "Naturally! My pet scientist Bevel Lemelisk designed them. Perhaps you've heard of his other work?" The Hutt leaned forward so that his huge head was close to General Sulamar's sallow face. "When he was bonded to the Emperor, Lemelisk was in charge of constructing both the first and the second Death Stars."
Sulamar's eyebrows shot up, showing how impressed he was.
"Bevel Lemelisk designed these Mineral Exploiters, and he will also be hard at work overseeing the construction of our new weapon."
"Sounds like you couldn't have found a better man,” Sulamar agreed, then faced forward, watching Mineral Exploiter Beta continue its work.
The machine finished devouring a medium-size asteroid and dumped the molten waste slag, which hardened into small flying shards in its wake. The machine's sensors swept the asteroid belt for a new target.
"Beta is picking up a very high concentration of metal," one of the Devaronian diagnosticians said. "It's amazingly pure."
The Mineral Exploiter altered course and increased speed toward its new target. Durga watched with growing glee.
"Must be even more resources out here than we anticipated!" another tech said. "Mineral Exploiter Alpha has found a rich source as well. The target seems to be moving on an odd course for one of these asteroids, but it registers as pure metal. Like nothing we've ever seen out here."
Durga chortled with satisfaction. "If these Mineral Exploiters continue to find such wealth, we might not need the other two we have under construction."
The pilot of the Hutt expeditionary vessel increased shields as they followed Mineral Exploiter Beta through the asteroid belt.
"Alpha is also headed this way," the human technician said.
General Sulamar frowned. "Do you think they could have picked up the same target?"
"Uh-oh," the Devaronian station chief said.
Durga sat up straight on his repulsorsled. He puffed his rubbery cheeks again. "I don't like the tone of that, mister."
"I don't like what I'm seeing," the horned Devaronian responded. He raised his clawed hands in panic. "Alpha and Beta haven't picked up the same target--they've detected each other."
"Well, shut them down," Durga said. "An unforeseen programming glitch. We can't afford to lose those two pieces of equipment."
The Devaronian hammered instructions into his control panels.
The other technicians worked frantically--to no avail. The Gamorrean guards stood dumbfounded, blinking at each other in confusion.
The Devaronian pounded his fists on the panel. "I can't, sir! I don't have the override code!"
Durga bellowed, "Well, who does?"
"Only Bevel Lemelisk, sir."
"Get him up here," Durga shouted.
"But, he asked not to be disturbed, sir," the Devaronian said.
Durga gurgled in rage at the comment and punched a control button on his repulsorsled.
Suddenly, the Devaronian technician's chair erupted with electrical fire, deadly voltage arcing across the victim's hands and arms, crawling up his spinal column and skittering around inside his skull. The alien's skin blackened and burned. He opened his fanged mouth to scream, but only blue lightning came out.
In seconds the Devaronian slumped down, a skeletal corpse that steamed as flakes of ash fell onto the floor of the expeditionary ship.
"Now, would someone else like to get Bevel Lemelisk for me?" Durga boomed. "Before it's too late?"
One of the human technicians leaped off his chair and ran to the turbolift.
General Sulamar snapped his fingers, and two Gamorrean guards came forward to remove the charred Devaronian body. Lightly tapping the singed skin to make sure that all of the electrical current had gone away, they whisked the crumbling body out of sight.
Despite his outburst, Durga knew they could never rouse the weapons engineer fast enough to do any good. With outrage and horror, he watched as the two gargantuan machines came together, considering each other to be prime sources of metallic wealth. Unthinking, they followed identical programming: (1) grapple target, (2) dismantle with laser cutters, and (3) process all raw materials.
The giant machines were mindlessly murderous, blasting each other's hull plates, ripping metal arms and stuffing them into processing maws-- an unconscionable disaster unfolding before Durga's eyes.
The Mineral Exploiters were very efficient. It took less than ten standard minutes for them to rip each other to nonfunctional shreds, drifting hulks of torn-apart components and half-slagged molten ingots. The metal debris drifted apart, taking its own place in the asteroid field.
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