Star Wars - Episode I Adventures 005 - The Ghostling Children

by Dave Wolverton

  Like any child who knew the place well, Kitster had several ways to sneak in and out. In fact, Kitster probably knew more ways to be sneaky than anyone else. But doing so without being seen could be a problem.

  A few shadows were all that hid them.

  Kitster took the lead, letting his sand skimmer hum over the dry sand. Ahead, a narrow chasm split the rocks, where desert winds had eroded a passage. An adult on a speeder couldn’t have made it through, but it was just right for a kid.

  “Keep your heads down,” Kitster whispered to his friends. “Watch out for the rocks! There’s razor moss growing on them.”

  He expertly glided through the narrows of the chasm. Long white funnel flowers protruded from crevices above, making soft breathing noises as they inhaled the night air, trying to get moisture.

  Kitster kicked the ground to build up speed. Rock walls to either side seemed to fly past. Here and there, hubba gourds grew on the ground. Their faceted husks reflected the starlight.

  He rounded a turn. Something big and dark huddled on the trail. At first he thought a boulder had fallen, but the thing lifted an ugly head. It emitted a fierce growl.

  “Cliffborer worm!” he shouted to the others.

  Cliffborer worms only came out on Tatooine at night. This one was probably feeding on the razor moss, or sucking water from the hubba gourds. With one good bite, a cliffborer worm could suck a gourd — or a person — dry.

  Kitster leaned left. The sand skimmer tilted away from the cliffborer worm’s sharp teeth — right against the stone wall of the canyon.

  The cliffborer worm wriggled toward him. Kitster kicked hard and sped up.

  Rrraarggh! The huge worm lunged. Kitster whipped by so close that he could smell its hot breath. He slapped its head.

  The cliffborer worm snarled in rage and lunged at him — too late. It banged its head into the rock.

  Kitster kicked the ground again, gaining speed, and glanced back. The cliffborer worm shook its head, trying to regain its senses, as Anakin slid through the narrows.

  Kitster didn’t watch what happened. He had to watch the path ahead. Where there was one cliffborer worm, there might be more.

  He hurtled through the narrows until at last they opened wide, into a small valley.

  “Keep to your left,” he whispered to the others. “Stay in the shadows. We’re right under the fortress walls.”

  He hardly needed to tell them. Up above the fortress loomed, a black monolith in the night. Red lights from windows high overhead gleamed evilly. He could hear faraway music, Kloo horns that wailed like human screams, drifting from the room.

  Now they slowed their sand skimmers, creeping, until the cliff met the wall of Gardulla’s palace.

  They dismounted.

  They were directly below an opening. About twenty meters above, there was a vent that let the hot air escape the castle. Kitster had come down earlier through the vent. There were iron bars over it, meant to keep people out, but he’d long ago sawed through one of the bars, making a hole big enough to climb through. He’d left a grappling hook wedged between two iron bars.

  He hoped that no one had found the grappling hook, or had learned of his escape. He reached out and felt along the wall. The fibercord from the grappling hook met his hand.

  “Here,” he whispered. He found the reel on the ground and hooked it to his belt.

  Just then, he heard an electronic whir up above, atop the wall. He flattened against the wall just as a guard droid wheeled to a stop. He heard its hydraulics as it turned its mechanical head, looking over the ledge.

  He held his breath, terrified that the droid would see them.

  After a long time, its engines whirred, and the droid continued its rounds.

  Kitster pushed a button on his reel. The reel lifted him quickly up the wall.

  He neared the top and climbed into the vent. The air coming through it was only a little warm. The fortress had been cooling for hours.

  He hit the release on his reel and played the fibercord out until his friends could grab it. Soon, they all wiggled between the bars and climbed into the vent.

  Kitster led them as they crawled through the round passage of the vent. They crawled on and on, past the kitchens and the laundry rooms, past the sleeping quarters for Gardulla’s henchmen. He slid down a side vent off of the pool room.

  Here were several large swimming pools, some with waterfalls and fountains. Sometimes Gardulla actually swam in one of the pools. Other times she would stock a pool with carnivorous fish and have guards toss in anyone who had displeased her.

  Kitster sat quietly for a moment before he entered the room. He doubted that anyone would be there at this time of night, but he didn’t want to take a chance. A grate fit over the vent. He couldn’t see past it. Glowrods near the ceiling gave off only faint light.

  Every sound echoed through the room. Waterfalls tumbled softly. Kitster heard the skittering feet of a big insect.

  He figured that if the shy bug was foraging for dinner, the room had to be empty.

  The air smelled heavily of water. He waited for the others to reach him. He whispered, “If we get split up, meet me back here.”

  He hoped they’d be able to find their way back if they got split up. It had been a long time since Anakin or Pala had been in the fortress. The corridors down here in level seven were a maze. When this hill had been mined, the miners struck off in any direction they wanted. There were side passages that led nowhere, empty rooms, switchbacks, and dead ends.

  Gardulla kept the new slaves penned in down here simply because it was such a confusing place. It was mighty hard to escape.

  Kitster opened the grate quietly and dropped to the ground. He stepped away to make room for the next person, then crouched. Anakin leaped down behind him, then Pala and Dorn.

  Overhead, the glowrods near the high ceiling looked like slivers of stars. Potted plants beside the pools formed a screen between the kids and the water. In some places, huge boulders had been placed for decoration.

  Kitster slunk beside a pool, quietly making for the main door.

  “Hmmmm?” a deep voice bellowed from the water nearby. Something huge stirred in the pool, making a splash.

  There, floating on her back, was Gardulla the Hutt! “Who’s there?” she asked absently in Huttese.

  The Hutt was wallowing in the shallows like a small whale. Her enormous head was propped up on a rock, her eyes closed to slits. She’d been half-asleep.

  Behind Kitster, Anakin and the others came to a halt. Someone’s feet slapped the pavement loudly.

  “Uh, it’s me, O Great Mistress,” Kitster said, speaking the Hutts’ native language and disguising his voice. He didn’t give a name. Gardulla had so many servants that she didn’t know the names of them all.

  “Ahhhhhh,” she groaned pleasantly. “Get the scrub brush for my back. It itches.”

  “Yes, O Wisest of the Wise,” Kitster said. He peered around in the dark for a scrub brush, and saw a huge one at the edge of the pool. It had a handle as tall as a Wookiee, and its bristles were as hard as steel.

  He got the heavy thing and wondered what to do. Kitster didn’t want to be seen. He was disguised as a Jawa, and Gardulla never let Jawas into the fortress. She was afraid that they might steal something.

  But even as Kitster stood there in a panic, Gardulla began to snore. Kitster set the brush down and tried to sneak away.

  Gardulla’s own snoring wakened her. “What? What?” she blustered. “Where’s that brush?”

  “Coming,” Kitster said. Gardulla’s eyes immediately began to close. Kitster dragged the brush over to Gardulla. Kitster lifted it and began scratching Gardulla’s back.

  The Hutt groaned pleasantly and closed her eyes. Kitster looked over his shoulder at his friends, still hiding behind the plants. He jutted his chin toward the door, and they began to creep away.

  “Aaaah, that feels good,” Gardulla crooned.

  Kitster tried to do th
e job, but in moments his arms began to tire. It was hard work. The pavement beneath his feet was wet and slippery. A huge container of liquid cleanser sat by his feet, and some of it had spilled onto the pavement. Kitster was afraid he’d fall in.

  He had to get out of there!

  Anakin’s heart was racing as he crept from the pool room into the main access tunnel. Dorn and Pala followed.

  Anakin stopped in the hall. He didn’t know his way to the slave pens. Kitster’s directions hadn’t helped much. The main corridor here was simply a rough rock wall, painted white. There were passages everywhere, often with big security doors bolted crudely over the openings.

  Still, it felt familiar. Anakin remembered something of this place from his childhood.

  Gardulla was a trader. She didn’t raise slaves, and she didn’t train them. She kept hundreds of slaves on her staff, but she bought and sold thousands more as fast as she could.

  Most of her slaves went to mining companies on harsh worlds. The companies bought them in bulk. “We need two thousand workers for the moon on Gedi Four,” an order might say. Gardulla would fill the order any way she could.

  So the dungeons might be filled with thousands of slaves one day, and be empty the next.

  Tonight they were lucky. Kitster said that a shipment of Whiphids had just come in from Toola. The mangy creatures were still half-wild. They were as mean as... well, there wasn’t much that was meaner.

  Most of the guards would be down in the maximum-security pens.

  Anakin had hoped that he and his friends might be able to just walk to the infirmary and free the Ghostlings. But apparently that wouldn’t happen.

  “What now?” Pala whispered.

  “You wait here,” Dorn answered. The Bothan pointed left down the hallway. “I’ll scout ahead.” Dorn handed Anakin the Jawa ion blaster and tiptoed toward a far door. He reached it and thumbed the entry switch. It was locked.

  He pulled out some wires and his keyboard, clipped the wires to the switch, and punched in some numbers. The door slid open.

  He shot a grin back to Anakin and Pala. Anakin shifted his grip on the ion blaster. His palms were sweating.

  Dorn was lost.

  He’d sneaked down the hallways, thinking he’d reach the slave pens, and he’d managed to open a number of locks.

  Suddenly he opened a door and found row after row of cages. They weren’t filled with the slaves he was searching for.

  They were filled with giant bugs.

  Enormous bugs. Lots of them. There were poisonous ghost spydrs from Kubindi, bigger than some houses he’d seen. There were giant two-headed effrikim worms — a Hutt’s favorite snack — three meters long. There were mora beetles with giant horns on their noses, pounding their cages.

  Obviously, these weren’t normal bugs. Gardulla had a gourmet chef from Kubindi, one who specialized in cooking insects. But of course such a chef couldn’t have just any insects. These ones were bred for size and tastiness, and had probably been fed chemicals to make them mutate into gigantic forms. Afterward, they’d probably been injected with growth hormones.

  The stink of alien bugs made Dorn’s nose twitch. The insects began to hiss and chitter. The beetles blew a noise from their horns that sounded like the word “Flee. Flee.”

  They wanted him to leave. Dorn didn’t have a better idea.

  Finally, the Hutt’s breathing eased, and she looked asleep. Kitster pulled away the huge scrub brush. He set it down, and turned to creep away.

  “Hmmm, that felt good,” Gardulla boomed. “But now I’m hungry. I want a little something to eat. How about you?”

  She wants me to have dinner with her? Kitster thought. That didn’t make sense. A Hutt would never invite a slave to dinner. On the other hand, Gardulla was known to eat a slave from time to time.

  Yikes! Kitster thought.

  Before the danger fully registered in Kitster’s mind, there was a little splash, and one of Gardulla’s strong arms snaked up. The Hutt grabbed his ankle.

  “Augh!” Kitster shouted as Gardulla pulled him toward the pool. She was going to eat him!

  Kitster landed hard on the pavement. Gardulla yanked him toward her mouth.

  Kitster looked for something to hold onto. The only things handy were the huge scrub brush and the liquid cleanser.

  He grabbed the cleanser and glanced backward. Gardulla’s huge mouth opened to meet him.

  Kitster sprayed the soap down Gardulla’s throat.

  The mighty Hutt roared in outrage. “Agghhh! Help! It’s poisoned me!”

  Gardulla let go of Kitster’s ankle and began to clutch her throat. The Hutt began spitting out soap, her enormous tongue rolling comically.

  Kitster sprang to his feet.

  He raced for his life as Gardulla roared in fury, “Guards, help! I’ve got cleanser in my mouth!” Her enormous voice echoed from the ceiling and seemed to fill the whole fortress.

  From the hallway outside the pool room, Kitster suddenly heard his friends shriek in alarm!

  Meanwhile, in one of the corridors, Anakin glanced at Pala.

  Her headtails, hidden beneath her Jawan cloak, twitched nervously. The movement made it look as if she had some small animals climbing her back.

  They’d been waiting for a long time. Dorn had been gone a long time, and Anakin was beginning to think he wasn’t coming back.

  But the only thing to come down the main corridor was a mouse droid. It stopped nearby and began to use its tiny arms to scrupulously pick up specks of debris.

  “Wow,” Pala whispered, nodding at the mouse droid, “Gardulla sure keeps a clean dungeon. She’s a credit to her slimy species.”

  Anakin grinned.

  Suddenly he heard a splash from the pool room. He heard Kitster scream. Gardulla began to shout.

  A door flung open at Anakin’s right. A Gamorrean guard thudded into the hall, stun baton drawn. The mouse droid squealed and blurred past Anakin’s feet.

  Anakin drew his ion blaster. Gamorrean males are short on brains. This one saw the blaster and cringed in terror, not knowing that ion blasters are only good on electronics. It wouldn’t hurt the Gamorrean. So Anakin didn’t pull the trigger.

  He turned and fled after Pala.

  They raced past the door that Dorn had opened, then rounded a corner. The Gamorrean chased them. His armor jangled. He sounded like a tank driving down the hall.

  The guard was running too fast. Anakin couldn’t stay ahead of him. So he hid around the comer.

  The guard raced after him, and Anakin stuck his foot out.

  The Gamorrean tripped and landed with a thud, as if a load of garbage had fallen off a lifter.

  Anakin ran after Pala. The guard got up and began to chase them again.

  Behind them, Kitster sprinted out of the pool room, heart pounding. He heard a Gamorrean guard rushing down the hall to his left, chasing Anakin and Pala.

  But the noise was distant, far away. It echoed through the stone corridors, and Kitster couldn’t tell which way to go.

  Kitster ran for a bit, down passageways that he knew well. But when he found the long corridor to the slave quarters empty, he realized that Anakin and Pala had made a wrong turn.

  His friends were lost.

  Somewhere in the fortress, he heard a giant mora beetle blowing its nose horn, “Flee! Flee!”

  He thought quickly.

  Many of the doors to the maze were locked. Given the direction that he’d run, and the doors that Kitster had seen open, Anakin must have turned left down the slave’s corridor when he needed to go right.

  “Oh no,” Kitster whispered to himself. “They’re heading toward the security control room!”

  Dorn was about to leave the bug room when he heard a shout. Gardulla was calling for her guards.

  Dorn thought, You know, the great thing about giant mutant bugs is that they’re a lot smarter than most people give them credit for. I mean, they probably know that Gardulla plans to eat them, and I’ll bet
they resent it.

  “Hey, you guys,” Dorn offered the bugs, “If I let you out, would you promise to wreck this place good?”

  None of the bugs answered. He’d hoped for some kind of nonverbal answer — a flip of the antenna, a nod of the head. Dorn was great at reading nonverbal cues.

  The problem with the bugs was that he wasn’t sure if they’d heard his offer at all. He wondered, Where are the ears on a ghost spydr, anyway?

  Dorn heard a Gamorrean out in the main corridor.

  Dorn found the control panel for the cages. He pushed the buttons and opened the doors.

  A huge beetle leaped out of its cage and charged into the main corridor, its nose horn blaring, “Flee! Flee!” It slammed against the wall of the corridor, and looked as if it might just sit and batter it for awhile. Then it caught sight of the Gamorrean rushing toward it.

  The beetle wheeled to its left, lowered its nose horn, and charged the Gamorrean. The Gamorrean guard screamed. He turned and ran, grunting with every breath.

  Dorn leaped into the hall just in time to watch the giant beetle ram the guard from behind. The Gamorrean slid on his belly and hit the wall headfirst, driving his iron helmet over his eyes. The giant beetle charged round a corner, looking for another victim.

  Dorn whispered under his breath, “And I thought Jabba’s palace had bug problems!”

  The Gamorrean guard crawled to his knees, and tried to pry the cap off his head.

  Dorn turned and fled.

  Anakin was panting. He knew he’d taken a wrong turn somewhere, but this way felt right.

  He reached a T in the hallway, then turned to see several droids marching toward him, fresh from an oil bath.

  “Ah!” a protocol droid cried on seeing him. “Jawas with ion blasters!” The droid raised its hands over its head and began hopping around in terror.

  Anakin just stood, not knowing what to do. If he neutralized them, it would be cruel. If he didn’t neutralize them, the droids might call some guards.