Isolder nodded. “Thank you, Mother. I think I had best get ready for my journey.” He rose from his chair, hugged his mother and kissed her through the veil.
He knew that he should have left Star Home immediately, headed for his own ship. Instead he hurried down to the guest docking bay, found Skywalker at his X-wing fighter, preparing to disembark. “Prince Isolder,” Luke said. “I was just getting ready to leave, but I can’t find my astromech droid. Have you seen it?”
“No,” Isolder said, glancing about nervously. A technician came in from a side corridor with the droid.
“Your droid started throwing sparks,” the technician said. “We found a shorting circuit to his motivator.”
“Are you all right, Artoo?” Luke asked.
Artoo whistled the affirmative.
“Mr. Skywalker,” Isolder said, “I … wanted to ask you something. Dathomir is what, sixty, seventy parsecs?”
“About sixty-four parsecs,” Luke answered.
“The Millennium Falcon will have to travel a twisted course through hyperspace to make that kind of jump,” Isolder said. “What kind of man is Solo? Will he take the most direct route?”
Computing a jump in hyperspace was a laborious task. The nav computers tended to take “safe” routes, routes where the black holes, asteroid belts, and star systems were well charted. But such routes were often long, tediously twisted. Still, a long route was far better than a short, dangerous trip through uncharted space. “If it were just him,” Luke said, “yeah, Han might take a shorter route. But he wouldn’t put Leia at risk, not knowingly, anyway.”
Luke had an odd tone to his voice, as if he were not saying all that he knew. “Do you think Leia is in danger?” Isolder pressed.
“Yes,” Luke said huskily.
“I heard of the Jedi Knights when I was a child,” Isolder said. “I was told that you had magical powers. I have even heard that you can pilot starships through hyperspace without the aid of a nav computer, and that you can take the shortest routes. But I have never believed in magic.”
“There’s no magic to what I do,” Luke said. “The only power that I have is what I draw from the life Force around us. Even in hyperspace I can feel the energy inherent in suns and worlds and moons.”
“Do you know that Leia is in danger?” Isolder asked.
“Yes. I’ve felt a sense of urgency for her. That’s why I came.”
Isolder made up his mind. “I think you are a good man. Will you take me to Leia? Perhaps you could shave a few parsecs off our trip. We might even be able to reach Dathomir before Solo.”
Luke studied the prince, said doubtfully, “I don’t know. He’s got a big head start.”
“Still, if we could reach Han Solo first …”
“First?”
Isolder shrugged, gestured to the fleet of Star Destroyers and Battle Dragons just outside the energy field. “If my mother reaches Solo before we do, she will kill him.”
“I suspect you’re right, and she does not wish me well, either, though she seems friendly enough,” Luke said, surprising Isolder. So the Jedi had sensed his mother’s intent.
“Take care of yourself, Jedi, and meet me on my ship,” Isolder whispered, knowing that in all probability his mother would hear of his betrayal of her within the hour.
“I’ll be careful,” Luke said, and he patted his R2 droid lovingly and stared at it, as if gazing through its metal exterior.
Chapter
11
Leia stormed up into the Millennium Falcon, threw her helmet to the floor so that it bounced and clattered into a corner. Han followed her up the ramp, around to the lounge where Chewbacca and Threepio were playing games on the holo board.
“Great, Solo, great!” Leia shouted. “What have you gotten us into? I’ll tell you why Zsinj’s men aren’t searching for us: they figure we’re all going to die, so why bother!”
“Look, it’s not my fault!” Han shouted. “They’re trespassing on my planet. They’re all trespassing! And as soon as we get out of here, I’m going to figure some way to evict the whole bunch!”
Chewbacca growled questioningly.
Han said, “Aw, nothing much.”
“Nothing much?” Leia shouted. “There are monsters outside. For all we know the planet could be crawling with them!”
“Monsters?” Threepio whined, rising from his seat, hands rattling. “Oh dear, you don’t suppose they eat metal, do you?”
“I don’t think so,” Han said sarcastically. “Outside of space slugs, I’ve never heard of anything that big that eats metal.”
Chewbacca growled, and Threepio asked, “How big are they?”
“Let me put it this way,” Leia said, “we haven’t seen them yet, but if the footprints are any indication, one of them could probably eat all three of us for breakfast and then use one of your legs to pick his teeth.”
“Oh dear!” Threepio shouted.
“Aw, come on now,” Han said, “don’t frighten the droid. For all we know, these could be harmless herbivores!” Han tried to put an arm around Leia’s shoulder to comfort her, but she pulled away, waved a finger in his face.
“I sure hope not,” she said, “because if that track came from a herbivore, then you can bet there’s something even bigger around here that eats it.” She turned and looked away. “I don’t know why I let you bring me here. How could I be so stupid? I should have made you turn yourself in. Warlords and monsters and who knows what else? I mean, what can you expect from a planet you won in a card game?”
“Look, Leia,” Han said, touching her shoulder again, trying to get her to turn to him for comfort, “I’m doing the best I can!”
Leia spun and talked directly in his face. “No! I’m not going to let you sweet talk me. This isn’t a game. This isn’t a fun ride. Our lives are on the line. And right now, whether you love me and want me to marry you, or whether I love Isolder and want to marry him—none of that matters anymore. We’ve got to get out of here. Now!”
Han had seen Leia like this only very few times—always when her life was in danger. He had often thought that with his relaxed attitude, perhaps he enjoyed his life more than she enjoyed hers. But when he saw her fierceness rise to the surface, he realized that she loved life more passionately, more deeply than he could. Perhaps it was her Alderaanian heritage surfacing, her culture’s legendary respect for any life, something Leia was forced to lay aside in her fight against the Empire. But always it surfaced, and Han kept finding that Leia was like that: she hid her feelings deeply, so deeply that Han suspected even she didn’t know what she felt.
“All right,” Han said. “I’ll get you out of here. I promise. Chewie, we’re going to need some weapons. Let’s get out the heavy artillery and the survival packs. We saw a city not more than a few days over the mountains, and where there is a city, there’s got to be transportation. We’ll just steal the fastest ship available and blast out of here.”
Chewbacca whined his concern over leaving the Falcon.
“Yeah,” Han answered. “Let’s lock her up tight. Maybe someday we can make it back, salvage her.” He swallowed hard, unable to speak anymore. Two or three seasons out here in the mountains, in the rain and snow, and the wiring would get so rusted and shot that the Falcon would be practically worthless. And chances were that the New Republic wouldn’t win its way this deep into Zsinj’s territory for another ten years.
Leia stared at him, unbelieving.
“You always said that the Falcon was my favorite toy,” Han said. “Maybe it’s time to give it up.”
He went to the storage locker, pulled out an extra helmet, some snap-on camouflage battle fatigues to hide Threepio’s golden exterior. He went to find Threepio and get him dressed, but the droid was already standing at the bottom of the gangplank, his golden eyes shining as he gazed out into the forest in the dusk. Leia and Chewie were shutting down the Falcon, preparing her for storage.
“I’ve got something for you,” Han sa
id to Threepio. He pulled out the battle fatigues. “I hope they don’t baffle your sensors or impede your mobility or anything.”
“Clothes?” the droid asked. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never worn clothes before, sir.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” Han said, moving behind Threepio to snap the fatigues on. Somehow, it made him feel uncomfortable. In some homes, the wealthy had droids dress them, but Han had never heard of anyone dressing a droid.
“I think it would be best if you leave me here, sir,” Threepio volunteered. “My metallic surface might act as a lure for predators.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Han said. “We have blasters. There’s nothing out there that we can’t take care of.”
“I’m afraid I’m not designed to travel in this kind of terrain,” Threepio argued. “It’s too wet and rugged. In ten days, my joints will squeak like a roonat, if they aren’t frozen altogether.”
“I’ll bring some oil.”
“If Zsinj’s men come looking for us,” Threepio said, “they’ll be able to home in on my circuitry. I’m not equipped with any kind of electronic countermeasures that would let me conceal my presence.”
Han bit his lip. Threepio was right. His very presence could likely get them all killed, and there wasn’t a thing they could do. “Look,” Han said. “You and I have been together for a long time. I never turn my back on a friend.”
“A friend, sir?” Threepio asked. Han considered. In all likelihood this trip would kill the droid, and though they’d never been friends, he didn’t really hate Threepio that much. Out in the darkness, some animal gave a whooping call. It sounded peaceful, not at all threatening, yet for all he knew it could be the alien call of some giant predator saying, “I smell dinner.”
“Now don’t you worry about a thing,” Han said as he finished dressing the droid. He placed the helmet on Threepio’s head, and the droid turned to him, looking somehow forlorn in the bulky clothing. Han tried to think of some way to get Threepio to stop worrying. “You’re a protocol droid, and if you really want to be helpful, you’ll help me figure out how to get Leia to fall in love with me.”
“Ah,” Threepio said, obviously excited by the idea. “Don’t concern yourself, sir, I’m sure I’ll think of something.”
“Good, good,” Han said, and he walked up the gangplank just as Leia came out with a pack and rifle.
As he turned the corner, he could hear Threepio telling Leia, “My, have you noticed how dashing King Solo looks tonight? He’s incredibly handsome, don’t you think?”
“Oh, shut up,” Leia snarled.
Han chuckled, got his pack, a heavy blaster rifle, an inflatable tent, infrared goggles, and a handful of grenades that he thought might be especially effective if he tossed them down a giant predator’s throat. Then he walked outside, and they raised the gangplank, sealed the Falcon, and headed into the dark woods where moonlight silvered the white bark of trees. Overhanging branches left the grass and underbrush highlighted in a patchwork where light furtively played tag with the shadows.
The woods smelled clean, the way that they will in early summer when the sap is still fresh, the leaves new, and summer dryness puts a halt to the decay of leaf mold. And yet, despite the calming familiarity of the woods, Han felt keenly aware that he was on an alien world. Gravity here was too light, adding a springiness to his step, a feeling of power, near invincibility. Perhaps, he thought, the low gravity had led to the evolution of larger creatures on the planet. On such worlds, the circulatory systems of large animals did not become strained, bones did not snap under their own weight. But Han could feel the alienness in the trees—too tall and willowy thin, rising eighty meters above, swaying in the warm night air.
They saw little in the way of animals. A few piglike rodents in the underbrush scurried away when they got near—barreling through the foliage so fast that Han joked that they must have had hyperdrive units built into their posteriors.
They hiked for three hours, and at the top of a barren mountain pass where rocks broke through a thin skin of grass, they took a breather and looked out toward their destination, the halo of a lighted city. Brown clouds had blown in, and blue-purple lightning crackled and flashed in the distance. As the thunder rolled over the shoulders of the mountains, it sounded almost like the roar of ancient cannons.
“It looks like a thunderstorm heading our way,” Leia said. “We’d better hurry down off this ridge and put up a shelter.”
Han studied the clouds for a moment, dark blue lightning suddenly flicking like a strobe. “Not a thunderstorm, more like a dust storm or a sandstorm maybe, blowing up out of the desert.” It seemed odd for the storm to be all concentrated in one place, as if a giant tornado had blown in from the desert and now was dropping its weight here at the feet of the mountains.
“Yeah, well, whatever it is, I don’t want to get caught in it,” Leia said, and they scurried down the ridge, scree sliding under their feet.
Once under the canopy of trees again, Han somehow felt more secure. They picked a campsite beside a fallen tree, among myriad boulders washed smooth by a mountain stream. The size of the boulders—many of them taller than a man—gave mute testimony to the ferocity of the floods that must have washed through here during the rainy season. Camping there didn’t seem wise with a storm on its way, but it was a calculated risk. The huge boulders all around gave Han a sense of security. A person could easily hide here in case of an attack.
They set their tents, ate a light meal from their packs and sterilized some water. “You and Chewie take the first watch,” Han said, throwing Threepio a blaster rifle.
The droid fumbled with the weapon. “But sir, you know that my programming doesn’t allow me to harm a living organism.”
“If you see anything, just shoot at its feet and make a lot of noise,” Han said, and he went to sleep. He planned to lie on his air mattress and think a while, but he was so tired that he just swirled away into blackness.
Only moments later, it seemed, he woke to the sound of blaster fire shattering rocks and Threepio shouting excitedly, “Yoohoo, General Solo, I need you! Waaake uhuuup! I need you!”
Han grabbed his blaster and jumped out of his tent just as Leia climbed out of her own. Something big and metal creaked. Not a dozen meters away stood an Imperial walker, a scouting vessel with a two-person crew. It perched on a rock like some long-legged, steel bird, twin blaster cannons aimed at Han and Leia. Han wondered dimly how in the world it could have sneaked up on the droid.
Within the carrier, shielded behind transparisteel, the pilot and his gunner watched, their faces dimly lit green by their control panels. The pilot raised a mike, shouted in a gravelly voice. “You two, drop your weapons and put your hands on your heads!”
Han swallowed hard, looked around. There was no sign of Chewbacca with his bowcaster. “Uh, is there some kind of problem here?” Han asked. “We were just out for a little fishing expedition. I do have a license.”
The pilot and gunner looked at each other. That split second was enough. Han grabbed Leia’s arm and jerked her away, jumped behind a boulder for cover, fired at the transparisteel window, hoping his blaster would pierce through and hit the pilot, or at the very least blind the gunner momentarily. The shot bounced off the window. His little hand blaster didn’t have the kind of power he needed, and he realized he’d left his grenades in the tent. They crouched behind the boulder for cover.
“You two come on out of there, or we’ll shoot your droid!” the pilot shouted.
“Run!” Threepio yelled. “Save yourselves!”
The gunner cut loose with a barrage of blaster fire that sent rock shards flying around Han. Ozone and dust filled the air. A fragment bounced off a boulder behind them, drove a splinter into Solo’s hand. Leia leaped out the other side of the boulder, fired with her blaster rifle, jumped back for cover.
Solo searched frantically for some sign of Chewie, saw a shadow moving against the lower
limbs of a silver tree, climbing stealthily. Chewie was there with his bowcaster. He crouched, fired a bolt that splattered against the Imperial walker’s hull in a shower of green light. Metal screamed in protest.
The pilot tried to swivel his cockpit to look behind them. Leia jumped from her cover, fired three rapid shots into the vulnerable hydraulics assembly at the walker’s lowest joint. Chunks of metal flew from the walker, and it twisted from its perch, flopped to its side. The giant metal legs kept kicking.
Han ran up to Threepio, took his heavy blaster and rushed to the windows. The walker’s blaster cannons couldn’t reach him. Han said, “Now, you two just crawl on out of there real slow. You aren’t going anywhere in that thing, unless you’re going to die.”
The pilot frowned, raised his hands. The gunner popped the hatch above his head, and the two crawled out. Han muscled the two so that they stood side by side, stuck the barrel of his blaster up the pilot’s nose.
“This is an interdicted planet!” the gunner shouted at them. “You’d better get off!”
“Interdicted?” Leia asked. “Why?”
“The natives don’t take kindly to strangers,” the pilot said. Leia and Han looked at each other, and the pilot said in wonder, “You mean you didn’t know?”
“We’ll take our chances,” Han grumbled.
“These natives don’t happen to have five toes and footprints a meter long, do they?” Leia asked.
The pilot’s face took on a closed look. “Lady, those are just their pets.”
From the overturned walker, a voice issued over the radio, “Strider seven, report your status. Verify, please: is this General Han Solo you’ve captured?”
Chewie came from behind the shadows of a boulder, shot his bowcaster into the Imperial walker’s radio, then grabbed each prisoner by the head and banged their helmets together hard enough so that the crack echoed through the woods. He growled and looked up the hill, asking them to hurry.
Star Wars: The Courtship of Princess Leia Page 12