Luke began to put his macrobinoculars away, but Teneniel snatched them, held them up and smiled to see that the amethyst light showed the world better than even her spells could.
“Let’s go in that door,” Isolder said.
“We can’t just walk up to it,” Han objected.
“We can hijack one of the harvester droids,” Isolder said. “They’re pretty basic droids. If you jump into their hoppers, they’ll think that they’ve harvested a crop and take you right into the food-processing plant.”
“Are you sure it will work?” Han asked. “What if the guards at the sally port check the hopper? What if those droids on the wall see us and take a shot? What if the harvest droids have built-in shredders to mulch the crop? I can think of a million things that could go wrong!”
“Do you have a better idea?” Isolder countered. “First of all, guards work at trying to keep people from getting out of prison. They don’t worry about people trying to break in. Second, we don’t have to worry about the guards on the walls seeing us, because we’re going to crawl in low, under the crop cover. And third, I know those harvest droids don’t have internal shredders because those are Hapan model HD two thirty-four C’s!”
Han glared at Isolder, and Luke glanced at Leia to see her reaction. Obviously the two men were trying to impress her, and Isolder had just scored the first point—if his plan worked.
“Fine,” Han said. “I’ll lead.” He unholstered his blaster and followed a ridge downhill, keeping a spur of land between them and the guard droids on the wall. When they crept to the edge of the muddy fields, he ran low between rows of tall vines, thick with berries. Several times he snatched large berries and popped them in his mouth.
They quickly reached a harvester droid. It had dozens of small claws, and it used them to feed berries into a mouthlike hopper. It stood only three meters tall and walked on stubby legs. Han looked up at it dumbly while Isolder climbed a little access ladder on the droid’s side, lowered himself experimentally partway into the droid. The droid seemed unaware of him and kept feeding berries into the hole, so that Isolder had to push them back out. “Come on in,” Isolder said. “This one is nearly empty.”
Han, Leia, and Luke quickly followed. Teneniel hesitated, and Luke could sense her fear. She didn’t like the idea of going into that mouth, dropping into a dark room.
The droid turned and began walking toward the prison, apparently satisfied that its hopper was full. Luke stuck his head out the hopper and whispered, “Teneniel, hurry!”
She raced up the ladder and leaped in.
The hopper was pretty cramped with five people in it, and Luke found himself standing in berries up to his knees, wedged tightly between Teneniel and Isolder. Luke sensed Teneniel’s desperation, held her hand and whispered, “It’s all right. You’ll be all right.”
Han lifted himself up, looked out the droid’s “mouth” as it marched them toward the prison walls. “Looks like two guards at the sally port,” Han whispered, then dropped back.
Teneniel’s heart was beating wildly, and she tried hard to still her breathing, feel calm, feel the Force as Luke had told her. Luke studied her effort. At long last, she breathed easier, and Luke whispered, “Good,” and squeezed her hand.
A light shone overhead through the mouth as they reached the sally port, and the droid stopped. Its metallic voice grated, “I have a load of hwotha berries for delivery to the processors.”
“So soon?” one of the guards queried. “Those vines must be snapping under the weight. Go on ahead.”
The droid marched into the prison, and dimly Luke could hear the guards talking. “With that many berries, do you think we’ll get some?”
“Nah,” the other said. “The brass will eat them all.”
The droid trudged through brilliantly lit halls, past machines that hissed and spat steam, then stopped momentarily. The floor dropped out beneath them, and Luke found himself sliding through the dark down a smooth metal tube. Teneniel made a noise, frightened, and Luke grabbed her hand, whispered, “It’s all right.”
Conveyer wheels pushed them along in a tangle as nozzles built into the roof squirted them with water. They passed through the washers and suddenly jets of freezing air squirted over them.
And then there was light from an opening in the tubing just ahead. Luke rolled off the processor and pulled Teneniel with him, and they all lay amid a heap of machinery that clanked and droned. Metal legs held the food processors up at waist level. The air was moist and warm, but Luke could not see much. He listened intently. He could hear voices off to his right, echoing down a narrow hallway.
“Where are we?” Teneniel asked.
“We’re under the kitchens, in the service tunnel for the food processors,” Han answered. “Now all we have to do is find a way out of here.”
“This way,” Luke whispered, listening to the sound of voices. He led them crawling through a forest of metal legs and machinery, under a ceiling of pipes, over a carpet of dust balls. After six minutes they reached an opening—a heavy grate bolted to the floor. Through it he could see hundreds of people milling about in a large dining room, all of them wearing orange jumpsuits. Many of them were humans, but several were hairless reptiles with enormous eyes mounted on a face that curved out like a ladle. “Ithorians,” Han grunted.
“What are Ithorians doing in a prison?” Leia said, and she stopped and gazed out. A green woman walked by. Up on a catwalk overlooking the kitchens, armored Imperial stormtroopers strolled with blaster rifles in hand, watching the prisoners.
Luke looked down through the forest of machinery, saw another light. “This way,” he said, moving on. Several minutes later they came to the second grate. Beyond that they could see a lighted room that smelled hot and wet. An elderly man supervised several droids that were hanging uniforms on racks. Behind Luke, the others scrunched up, looking out at the exit.
“What now?” Han asked. The old launderer ordered the droids to wheel the clothes out an exit, and the droids soon left.
Luke said loudly and calmly to the lone occupant of the room, “You, come and open this grate!”
“Oh, please, Luke,” Leia whispered urgently, “don’t try that trick. It never works for you!”
The man walked over to the grate, looked in. “What are you doing down there?”
“You must open this grate!” Luke said, letting his Force flow into the old man.
“I don’t know the access code,” the old man whispered conspiratorially, “or I’d be glad to help you. What are you doing in there? Did you get lost or something?”
Luke suddenly realized that his Jedi tricks would not work on this old man, yet the prisoner would be happy to help them.
“Wait a minute, Luke,” Han said. “I see the access plate right up here. Maybe I can hotwire it!”
“Don’t bother!” Leia said. “You’ll probably just set off an alarm!” Han whipped out his blaster, demolished the plate. A few blue sparks bit into Luke’s face. Everyone held their breaths, listening.
“See,” Han assured them. “No alarm.”
“You got lucky,” Leia whispered. “Now you’ll want to fiddle with the wiring for an hour, and then you’ll set off an alarm!”
Han reached up with one hand, said “Ow!” as he touched the hot metal. Immediately the grate slid up. “See,” he whispered. “Easy.”
“Braggart,” Leia hissed as she crawled into the laundry room.
“You only say that because you find it so hard to express your true admiration,” Han said.
“Good job,” Luke said as he crawled through the hatch. The laundryman helped him up, gawking.
“What are you doing?” the old man asked.
“We’re breaking in,” Han said.
By the time Teneniel got out, the old prisoner stood looking at them. “Hmmm …” he said, studying Isolder. “You folks can’t go running around in here dressed like that. What will you wear?”
“What have you got
?” Han asked.
“Just about everything comes through here,” the old man said. “Uniforms for prisoners, guards—even that local junk the witches wear. So where you folks from?”
“All over,” Han said suspiciously. “Why all the questions?”
“Lighten up,” Luke answered. “He’s harmless.”
“How can you be so sure?” Han said. “He’s a criminal, after all.”
“Wait a minute, Han,” Leia said. “I feel it, too. What are you in here for?”
“I objected to the Empire,” the old laundryman said. “I ran an aerospace engineering firm on Coruscant. When they tried to steal some of our designs, we burned our buildings to the ground. I’m afraid that if you’re looking for dangerous felons, you’ve come to the wrong facility.”
“Political prisoners?” Han asked.
“And conscientious objectors,” Leia said. “Potentially too valuable to the Empire to lose and too dangerous to let remain free and join the rebellion.”
“That’s why the Empire imprisoned them here,” Luke said, “on a virtually uncharted planet. If they were dangerous felons, they’d be sent to a maximum security facility where the Empire could boast that they’d never escape. But these are people that the Empire wanted simply to disappear.”
Leia studied the face of the old man, a kindly face. “How many like you are here?”
“Three thousand,” the laundryman said. “But please, we can talk while you dress. Quickly! What are you doing here? Where will you need to go? Are you trying to take prisoners out?”
“We’ll need free access to the compound for right now,” Han said.
The laundryman sorted through stacks of clothing, pulled out two black robes for the women, guard uniforms for the men. But he stopped short when he heard someone approaching through the corridor. Two burly stormtroopers passed the open door, and everyone in the group stood still, tried to appear casual. The stormtroopers stopped, backed up and looked in the laundry room, fingering their rifles.
“Hey, you two!” Han shouted. “Get in here! On the double!”
“Are you talking to us?” one of the stormtroopers said, pointing to himself with his thumb.
“Yes, I am, soldier,” Han said. “Now get in here!”
The stormtroopers glanced at each other, cautiously stepped into the room.
“I’m Sergeant Gruun,” Han said, stepping forward, “external security! My people just infiltrated your prison here, right under your noses! In all my years in security, I’ve never seen such sloppy work. Tell me, who is your commanding officer?”
The stormtroopers looked at each other, pulled their blasters instantaneously. Han grabbed both blasters by the barrels, twisting them so that the shots fired into the ceiling. Isolder and Luke jumped the guards, bowling them over. Han threw the blasters to the floor, whimpering, “Oh, oh, hot!”
In close quarters, the stormtroopers’ body armor hindered their movement, and in a few seconds Luke and Isolder pried their helmets off. A couple of well-placed blows quieted the guards. Leia gagged and tied them while Han and Isolder stripped off their armor, then dumped the bodies into a laundry bag. The old worker pushed them into a back room.
Luke, Han, and Isolder donned stormtrooper outfits. As they dressed, the laundryman watched them but did not question them at all. Sometimes, Luke knew, it was better not to know the answers. If he were tortured later, the laundryman would not be able to reveal any vital information.
“Thanks,” Han said, patting the laundryman on the shoulder when they finished. “We won’t forget this. If we make it off this rock, we’ll come back for you.”
Luke watched the old prisoner, knew that he’d suffer for his part in this unless the guards were neutralized. “Wait!” Luke said, and he went to the sleeping guards, placed a hand on each of their heads, let the Force wash through them, submerging their memories of the brief struggle. When he finished, he was breathing heavily. “Dump the men in the tunnel under the grate. When they waken, they won’t remember you being here. At least they won’t remember for a few years.”
The old man nodded solemnly, gazed at Luke. “I know what you are. I’ve seen men like you before. I remember the Jedi,” he said, and he clasped Luke’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” Luke said, standing up. He swayed a little with fatigue under the weight of all his armor. Altering another’s memory was a difficult task, and Luke worried that he might have overextended his powers for the day. It would have been easier to just kill the guards, but he could not allow that. He hoped he would not regret his decision as they made their way into the prison compound.
Chapter
20
Oh dear,” Threepio said point four seconds after he broke the Imperial code. He had hoped to engage Chewbacca in an extended conversation, describe exactly how he had reasoned out the more subtle nuances of the code, but realized that all of this would have to wait. “Zsinj has learned from monitoring radio broadcasts that General Solo is here onplanet,” Threepio hastened to explain, “and Gethzerion has negotiated to sell Han to Zsinj’s men. She says she found the skid marks showing where the sisters of the Singing Mountain clan towed the Millennium Falcon, so she anticipates that Han will come to the city looking for spare parts. She has set a trap for General Solo!”
Chewbacca growled, shaking his bowcaster in the air.
“We must warn them!” Threepio shouted, and Artoo emitted a burst of static, squealing his agreement.
A whistle blew over the prison’s intercom, and in the plasteel corridors a jet black droid wheeled along, shining its artificial eyes to the right and left. It had a small hand blaster of the kind that could injure but not kill built into its helmet, and as it wheeled down the hallway, it shouted, “Count! Count! Count!” The inmates scattered, trying to stay out of the blaster’s path, but the droid nailed two men who weren’t fast enough to make it to their cells, and the hapless prisoners screamed in pain.
Han and Isolder followed it down the corridor, dressed in their stormtrooper attire. Leia and Teneniel followed close behind, disguised as witches. Luke followed last, slow with fatigue. Teneniel took his hand, urged him to walk close behind. Still, Luke stretched his senses to the maximum. They were getting closer to the witches’ tower. He could feel them there, ahead. The prison corridors seemed strangely quiet, lacking guards. The prisoners had been locked in their cells for the night.
The guard droid let them pass without comment, and they walked through the empty halls, footsteps ringing against the plasteel. As they passed a side hallway that led between tiers of cells, Leia paused.
“Wait a minute …” she whispered, peering into the first cell. “I know that woman! She’s from Alderaan! She served as senior weapons technologies adviser to my father.”
“Keep moving,” Luke said softly. “We can do nothing for her at the moment.”
“But she’s supposed to be dead!” Leia said. “Her ship was found crashed.”
“Move along,” Luke said softly.
They came to a sealed door with an electronic lock beside it. Through a window in the door they could see a second door. Han looked at the number pad for the electronic lock, pushed in a four-digit sequence at random. A red light flashed above the pad, indicating that he’d hit the wrong combination.
“Don’t!” Luke said. “Let me see if I can get it.” He walked to the pad, put his hand on it, closed his eyes in concentration. Dozens of guards used the pad daily. He could sense which four keys they pressed, but did not know the precise order. Hesitantly, he pressed the four numbers in the order he hoped would be correct. A green light flashed at the top of the pad, then the door swung open.
Luke pressed a button to open the next door. It led to a tiny elevator. When the others stepped into the tiny room, Teneniel stood staring at them a moment, frowning.
“Come on,” Luke said. “It’s an elevator. It will take us up to the walkway that leads to the tower.” Teneniel blushed and hurrie
d in.
When the elevator reached the top, the door opened into a glass causeway that spanned over the dark prison walls. The glass was so clear, so perfect, that Luke could see stars above him. Down outside the towers was a work yard, a few metal shacks, some Nightsisters walking under brilliant electric lights.
And a smothering sensation hit Luke. He could feel Nightsisters near, just ahead in the towers. Isolder and Han took the lead, headed over the causeway, but Teneniel stood rooted in terror.
“It’s all right,” Luke whispered. “Let the inner calm come to you. Draw your strength from the Force, let it wrap around you like a cloak. We have to get past them, if we’re going to get to their shipyard. The Force can hide you from her.”
At the far side of the causeway, a door opened. Four Nightsisters in black robes, their cowls down low, walked toward them. The one in the lead walked with stiff legs, slowly, hands clasped over her belly. Luke breathed deeply, slowly, and let the Force flow through him.
The others walked ahead, and Teneniel heaved her legs forward, woodenly. The Nightsisters passed in the narrow corridor, and one woman’s black skirts slapped against Teneniel’s. And then they were past.
The Nightsisters stopped, and Luke could feel Teneniel’s fear, could feel how she wanted to run.
“Halt! You there!” a Nightsister shouted at their backs, her voice dry and crackling like rotted leather. As one the group stopped. The Nightsister demanded, “What were you doing so late at the prison?”
Han turned, answered through his helmet microphone. “Trouble in cell block C.”
The Nightsister nodded her head thoughtfully, began to turn away, but looked back at them. “What trouble? Why wasn’t I notified?”
“A minor scuffle between inmates,” Han said. “We did not wish to disturb you.”
The Nightsister pulled her hood back, and in the brilliant lights, Luke was struck with horror. Her white hair was unkempt and matted. Her bloodshot eyes were a vivid crimson. But most horrible was her face—a purplish monstrosity from ruptured blood vessels, gray and dead in the cheekbones.
Star Wars: The Courtship of Princess Leia Page 24