“He says you are a weak-minded fool,” translates C-3PO. “He says Master Luke is using an old Jedi mind trick.”
Fortuna bares his fangs and hisses at C-3PO, but the droid’s happiness circuits have taken over.
“Master Luke! At last you’ve come to rescue me!”
Luke, well used to ignoring C-3PO’s chatter, continues staring directly at Jabba…but it is not easy to stay focused because Leia is there, too: miserable and helpless in a skimpy metal dancer’s costume and chained to Jabba’s throne.
Luke’s feelings for Leia are also confused. He knows that he loves her, but in a different way than Han Solo loves her. There’s a deep connection, not to mention respect and admiration for her bravery and dedication to the rebel cause.
But now…to see her like this…a slave, forced to expose so much of herself before Jabba’s greedy eyes…
Anger wells up in Luke. Hatred, too. Yes, what a pleasure it would be to unleash the power of the Force on this vile creature and be done. It would be so easy. The dark side is calling to him…offering him the power to strike down Jabba and anyone else who gets in his way.
Only his Jedi training allows him to control his rage. This is not the time to explode, he tells himself. He must stay focused. After all, there is still a chance to get everyone out safely and peacefully.
He tries to let go of his feelings, as Obi-Wan and Yoda taught him. He tries to focus on overpowering Jabba’s mind.
“You will bring Captain Solo and the Wookiee to me,” he tells Jabba.
“Ho ho ho ho ho,” Jabba laughs, then spits out a few sentences in Huttese.
“He says your mind powers will not work on him, Master Luke,” says C-3PO. “He says that he was killing Jedi when being a Jedi meant something. Oh, dear.”
“Tell him I am taking Captain Solo and his friends,” replies Luke. “Tell him he can either profit by this…or be destroyed.”
C-3PO translates as requested, but Jabba only laughs.
“It’s your choice, Jabba,” Luke replies. “But I warn you not to underestimate my powers!”
Jabba clearly understands some of this, because his laugh only becomes crueler.
“Oon bak chi wah, Jedi!”
“He says there will be no bargain and that he will enjoy watching you die,” translates C-3PO, adding: “Master Luke, you’re standing on—”
But Luke isn’t listening. Jabba’s mockery has been too much. The anger and hatred and, yes, fear have become too much for him to control. Forgetting his training, forgetting his plan, he uses the Force to reach out for a guard’s gun.
It springs into his hand—the grip in his palm, the trigger under his finger. He aims at Jabba and—
He is too late. Jabba has already flipped his switch and the floor has dropped away.
“BoscSKA!” he cries gleefully!
Falling, Luke pulls the trigger but misses. He and a hapless guard who was also standing on the trapdoor are tumbling down the hole and into the pit.
The same pit that poor Oola the dancer fell into just yesterday…
LUKE IS STUNNED BY THE FALL, ashamed of his failure, and unsure where he is. There is so much in his head that for a moment he doesn’t act.
The Gamorrean who fell with him, however, has a single thought in his head: the rancor is coming!
As fast as his bulky body can carry him, the guard tries to scramble up the ramp. It’s hopeless and if his brain could hold a second thought, he would know it.
Just yesterday this guard watched the great beast eat Oola. And he cheered it on.
Now he hears his own comrades cheering it on again. He oinks and squeals for mercy, but it’s not coming.
Only the rancor is coming.
The great iron door rumbles open again.
Crung-crung-crung-crung-crung…
Luke doesn’t know what’s behind it, but he knows he will be fighting for his life. He calms himself. Focuses. A moment ago, a lack of focus led him to make a terrible mistake and use his powers thoughtlessly.
Now he must use the Jedi lessons of his masters to use his powers wisely, to put away fear and anger, to use the Force as a true Jedi would.
“Oh, no! The rancor!” he hears C-3PO cry out from above.
And now the great door is open and the beast is in the pit with them.
The Gamorrean squeals even louder, thrashes about even more violently.
But Luke can now see the rancor with clear eyes. The beast is a horror—one of the nastiest predators from one of the nastiest planets in the galaxy, captured and brought here at great expense—but Luke is not horrified. He studies it intently.
The talons come first. Four on each hand and each one large enough to go right through a man. Though the beast walks slowly on short legs, its long arms and fingers allow the rancor to grab up anything within six meters and stuff it into a gaping, slobbering mouth. It only has fangs. It has no need to chew up plants, only to slice into raw, living meat.
And now, seeing the fat green guard, it does just that. With one last squeal, the guard is chomped in half and swallowed, armor and all. The rancor will cough those up later along with the bones…but now it has other business. Another morsel of food is here and the rancor is still hungry.
And now it turns to Luke and he is forced into action, leaping aside just before the claws can close on him. The arms are surprisingly quick, Luke realizes, so he won’t be able to dodge them for long. He must go on the attack.
As he leaps to the top of an unsteady pile of rubble, he sees the leg bone of a huge beast, probably a bantha. It’s no lightsaber but it is a weapon.
He grabs it, but the time spent pulling it free has cost him. The claws snap closed on him and squeeze tight.
He tries to beat at the great, reptilian hand with the bone, but it’s useless: the rancor barely notices.
The rancor raises Luke to its mouth, which slobbers and smacks in anticipation of this second snack.
Luke stares into the gaping maw. It seems impossibly large. He won’t even be a mouthful. But could the mouth be a weakness?
He thrusts the bone into the mouth, not as a weapon this time, but as a wedge. One end is planted just behind the lower jaws and the other catches on the roof of the mouth.
The rancor, expecting a soft, juicy bite, finds that it can’t even close its mouth. It roars with fury, whipping its massive head from side to side, flailing its arms. Luke is, for a second, forgotten and dropped.
In its panic, the mad beast strikes the wall, causing a small cave-in. Luke scrambles to avoid being buried. Then he darts into the crack in the wall that has just been created.
He hopes for a rest, but he won’t get it. The rancor, with the wild power of a frightened beast, snaps the bone between its great jaws.
In an instant, it has shaken off the fear and remembered the hunger. Again, long, taloned fingers reach out for Luke, probing into the crevice where he hides.
But Luke is ready this time. He has found a large rock in the rubble of the cave-in and now he smashes it down on the rancor’s hand. This does no damage, but causes the rancor to hesitate for a second, which is all Luke needs.
Springing past the gore-encrusted claws, he sprints toward the monster then runs between its legs. The rancor grumpily turns to follow him, but for a moment Luke is out of reach.
He has seen that one section of the pit’s wall is a great iron gate. Nearby, a panel has a button. Could escape be this easy?
As the rancor charges at him across the pit floor, Luke jabs the button. The gate does indeed open…but behind it is a solid rock wall, with a heavy, human-sized door set into it.
He rushes to the door; maybe he can get through….But no, it’s locked from the other side! He peers through the door’s barred window and sees that it’s even worse than he thought. There are two brutish men on the other side and he barely dodges a spear one jabs through the bars at him. He spins away and now sees that the rancor is upon him again.
Stooping low to get under the
iron gate, the beast leaves no room for him to run or even to dodge the claw that now reaches for him.
But beyond it, he sees the utility panel again. If only he could push the button!
Maybe he can. He grabs for something to throw. The closest thing is the skull of a previous victim. So be it.
He grabs the skull and hurls it past the rancor. A perfect shot…aided by the Force. Instead of merely pushing the button, it crushes it. The panel short-circuits with a spray of sparks. The mechanism holding up the iron gate lets go. The great weight is released. Tons of steel fall on the rancor’s head, slamming it to the ground and crushing its skull. The great beast is dead.
BUT LUKE’S troubles are far from over.
The small door is unbolted and thrown open.
A giant shirtless man rushes in: the rancor keeper. Instead of attacking Luke, however, he runs straight for the rancor.
And as a crowd of guards surrounds Luke, the rancor keeper weeps for his lost pet.
Jabba is not pleased by the loss, either. The rancor cost him a large fortune!1
Plus, it was fun watching it eat enemies.
That fun will be gone now.
Someone must pay.
“Yon tas Solo chung Wookiee!” Jabba snarls, demanding that Han and Chewbacca be brought to him. They will all pay, he swears.
After several minutes of swinish bustle, the Gamorrean guards drag Han and Chewie in from the dungeons and push Luke up the stairs from the rancor pit.
“Han!”
“Luke!”
“Are you all right?” asks Luke, who until now had no idea if Han was dead, alive, or still frozen.
“Fine,” says Han, despite being dizzy, blinded, bound, and repeatedly shoved by a stinking, brutish guard. “Together again, huh?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” replies Luke, relieved to see that his friend still has his swagger, if nothing else.
“How are we doing?”
“The same as always…”
“That bad, huh?” jokes Han. Still blinded from the hibernation, he asks, “Where’s Leia?”
“I’m here,” she calls, relieved that at least one person can’t see her humiliating costume or the fact that Jabba is petting her with a slimy hand.
Luke sees it all, but keeps his feelings in control.
With his mind focused, he can see the situation more clearly this time. Not all of Jabba’s guards and minions are as slow-witted as the Gamorreans. There are several Weequay warriors here, nasty brutes with leathery faces like rotted fruit and personalities to match. Luke recognizes Klaatu, who was infamous on Tatooine for his black deeds when Luke was still a boy. And though Luke has never seen J’Quille before, he can instantly see that the furry giant has fought and won many battles.
And there behind Jabba, watching everyone from behind the thin visor of his dented helmet, is Boba Fett.
With Han blinded and Chewie and Leia both in chains, this is not the time to make another escape attempt.
But…will there be another chance? Not according to Jabba, who is barking out a long string of vicious commands.
“Oh, dear!” says C-3PO. “His High Exaltedness, the great Jabba the Hutt, has decreed that you are to be terminated immediately.”
“Good, I hate long waits,” quips Han, but it is Jabba who laughs.
C-3PO continues. “You will be taken to the Dune Sea and cast into the Pit of Carkoon, the nesting place of the all-powerful Sarlacc.”
“Doesn’t sound so bad,” says Han.
And now Jabba is nearly gleeful as C-3PO comes to the punch line.
“In his belly, you will find a new definition of pain and suffering as you are slowly digested over a thousand years.”
“On second thought, let’s pass on that, huh?”
Han mutters to Chewie, who shows his agreement with a howl.
But Luke is still defiant.
“You should have bargained, Jabba. This is the last mistake you’ll ever make.”
Jabba laughs and his evil cackle is echoed first by Salacious Crumb and then everyone in the crowd.
But why is there a small smile on Luke’s face as he and his friends are hauled off again to the dungeon? What could he possibly have to smile about?
Think again, reader, of this dangerous game he is playing against Jabba, with Han as the prize.
Jabba assumes the game is won, but Luke sees it differently.
After a few risky moves, he has positioned all of his pieces just where he wants them. When the game began, Han was alone—and frozen—inside Jabba’s fortress. Luke knew that many lives might have been lost by attacking the heavily defended castle directly. So he took a different strategy….
And now they are all inside, with no lives lost, ready to begin the game in earnest.
Ah, but be careful, Luke, the cost of losing this game is high, indeed.
And Jabba cheats.
JABBA, OF COURSE, has never been satisfied with the various landspeeders and skyhoppers that the common folk of Tatooine use to get across the treacherous deserts.
To travel in luxury and style, he purchased a massive sail barge—an energy-guzzling monstrosity that carries him and his entourage five or six meters above the hot sand on a cushion of antigravity.
Today the barge is a floating party. The crowd from the throne room—even Max Rebo and the band—lounges about in the barge’s dark, fetid hold. Zooming over the Dune Sea toward the Pit of Carkoon, they indulge in the many pleasures their gleeful host has provided. Jabba is not always so generous, so they are making the most of his good mood.
C-3PO is here and is not having a good time. The rocking and swooping of the sail barge make him stagger across the deck and bump into the most ill-mannered and unspeakable creatures.
Bouncing off a particularly hairy Yarkora, he runs into a bartender droid, knocking over its tray full of drinks.
“Oh…I’m terribly sorry!” he exclaims and then takes a closer look. “Artoo! What are you doing here?”
“Bli-diwip!”
“Well, I can see you’re serving drinks, but this place is dangerous,” warns C-3PO. “They’re going to execute Master Luke and, if we’re not careful, us, too!”
“Whirrr-chup-fip!”
“Hmmm…I wish I had your confidence!”
Belowdecks, in a dark and nasty hold, Jabba is in high spirits.
Today it will be great fun to watch his enemies plead for their lives before being dropped into the Sarlacc’s gaping mouth. And tomorrow the story of his triumph will spread across the planet…and then the galaxy.
Drooling with the pleasure of it all, he gulps down a glassful of thick, green liquid. It’s strong stuff and half this much would kill a lesser creature, but it merely intoxicates Jabba.
And now, for pleasure of another kind, he tugs on a chain to bring his slave dancer close enough for a kiss.
But Leia resists. She has been peering through an opening into the blinding light of the desert outside. Her attention is fixed on two smaller vehicles that float alongside the barge. These are the sand skiffs, used to transport cargo across the desert and occasionally prisoners to their doom.
One of these carries her friends: Han, Chewie, and Luke, all wearing iron manacles and guarded by Jabba’s fiercest guards. Leia just has time to see that Lando is among these guards before she is pulled away and then shoved toward Jabba by the greasy claw of Bib Fortuna.
“Ooh mohla ah yarnee.”
She doesn’t understand or care what he says. In a few minutes, it will all be over—one way or another.
On the sand skiff, Han is at last recovering from the hibernation sickness.
“I think my eyes are getting better. Instead of a big dark blur, I see a big light blur.”
“There’s nothing to see,” Luke tells him. “I used to live here, you know.”
“You’re going to die here, you know,” says Han. “Convenient.”
“Just stick close to Chewie and Lando. I’ve taken care of everyt
hing.”
“Oh…great.”
At last there is something to see. The ships have come to an enormous pit between several sand dunes. While the giant barge coasts to a halt, the skiff carrying the prisoners flies out directly above the center of the Great Pit of Carkoon.
Han can’t see and Luke knows better than to look, but Lando takes a nervous glance over the side and recoils in horror. The bottom of the pit is nothing but an enormous mouth, lined with hundreds of long teeth.
This is the Sarlacc.
Sensing that food is coming, it begins extending long tentacles, groping in the sand for any living thing that has come too near. Inside the mouth, a cruel beak begins snapping and grinding in excitement.
The leather-faced guard and another even tougher-looking one who might be his brother—or sister?—have selected Luke as the first course and push him toward a plank that has extended from the side of the skiff.
One of the guards—guided by a Jedi mind trick—decides to remove Luke’s handcuffs. The other shoves Luke roughly onto the plank, high above a fate far worse than mere death.
At last he looks down and sees the terrible thing beneath him—its jaws flexing, teeth gnashing—but then he looks up as C-3PO’s voice rings out over loudspeakers.
“Victims of the almighty Sarlacc: His Excellency, Jabba the Hutt, hopes that you will die honorably. But should any of you wish to beg for mercy, Jabba will now listen to your pleas.”
“Threepio!” bellows Han Solo. “You tell that slimy piece of worm-ridden filth he’ll get no such pleasure from us! Right?”
“WWWWNRRRGGGHHHHH!” agrees Chewie.
“Jabba,” calls Luke. “This is your last chance. Free us or die!”
IN THE BARGE, all have turned to see Jabba’s reaction.
He gives a thumbs-down gesture and the fiends roar with laughter, pushing and shoving to get a view of the Jedi’s fall.
With all the commotion, it’s easy for R2 to speed up the ramp to the top deck. Rolling into position at the railing, he opens a small flap on his dome, then focuses his vision sensor on Luke.
Luke glances at the other skiff, which the guards are joyriding around in circles. Then he glances sideways at Lando, who gives an almost imperceptible nod. He takes a last look at Chewie and Han and wishes he could see Leia.
Beware the Power of the Dark Side! Page 4