Star Wars: Heir to the Empire

by Timothy Zahn

  The second scout had dismounted and fastened the handles of Artoo’s travois to the rear of his speeder bike. Remounting, he headed off at about the speed of a brisk walk. “You two follow him,” the first scout ordered, swinging around to take up the rear. “Drop your blaster on the ground first, Jade.”

  Luke complied, and they set off. The first scout put down just long enough to scoop up the abandoned blaster and then followed.

  It took another hour to reach the edge of the forest. The two speeder bikes stayed with them the whole time; but as they traveled, the party began to grow. More speeder bikes swept in from both sides, falling into close formation on either side of Luke and Mara or else joining up with the guards to both front and rear. As they neared the forest’s edge, fully armored stormtroopers began to appear, too, moving in with blaster rifles held ready across their chests to take up positions around the two prisoners. As they did so, the scouts began drifting away, ranging farther out to form a kind of moving screen.

  By the time they finally stepped out from under the forest canopy, their escort numbered no fewer than ten biker scouts and twenty stormtroopers. It was an impressive display of military power . . . and more even than the fact of the search itself, it drove home to Luke the seriousness with which the mysterious man in charge of the Empire was treating this incident. Even at the height of their power, the Imperials hadn’t spent stormtroopers lightly.

  Three more people were waiting for them in the fifty-meter strip of open land between the forest and the nearest structures of Hyllyard City: two more stormtroopers and a hard-faced man wearing a major’s insignia on his dusty brown Imperial uniform. “About time,” the latter muttered under his breath as Mara and Luke were nudged in his direction. “Who are they?”

  “The male says his name is Jade,” one of the stormtroopers in front reported in that slightly filtered voice they all seemed to have. “Bounty hunter; works for Karrde. He claims the female is his prisoner.”

  “Was his prisoner,” the major corrected, looking at Mara. “What’s your name, thief?”

  “Senni Kiffu,” Mara said, her voice surly. “And I’m not a thief. Talon Karrde owes me—he owes me big. I didn’t take any more than I had coming.”

  The major looked at Luke, and Luke shrugged. “Karrde’s other dealings aren’t any of my business. He said bring her back. I brought her back.”

  “And her theft, too, I see.” He looked at Artoo, still tied to his travois and dragging behind the speeder bike. “Get that droid off your bike,” he ordered the scout. “The ground’s flat enough here, and I want you on perimeter. Put it with the prisoners. Cuff them, too—they’re hardly likely to fall over tree roots out here.”

  “Wait a minute,” Luke objected as one of the stormtroopers stepped toward him. “Me, too?”

  The major raised his eyebrows slightly. “You got a problem with that, bounty hunter?” he asked, his voice challenging.

  “Yeah, I got a problem with it,” Luke shot back. “She’s the prisoner here, not me.”

  “For the moment you’re both prisoners,” the other countered. “So shut up.” He frowned at Luke’s face. “What in the Empire happened to you, anyway?”

  So they weren’t going to be able to pass the puffiness off as Luke’s natural features. “Ran into some kind of bush while I was chasing her,” he growled as the stormtrooper roughly cuffed his hands in front of him. “It itched like blazes for a while.”

  The major smiled thinly. “How very inconvenient for you,” he said dryly. “How fortunate that we have a fully qualified medic back at HQ. He should be able to bring that swelling down in no time.” He held Luke’s gaze a moment longer, then shifted his attention to the stormtrooper leader. “You disarmed him, of course.”

  The stormtrooper gestured, and the first of the biker scouts swooped close to hand Mara’s blaster to the major. “Interesting weapon,” the major murmured, turning it over in his hands before sliding it into his belt. From overhead came a soft hum, and Luke looked up to see a repulsorlift craft settle into place overhead. A Chariot assault vehicle, just as Mara had predicted. “Ah,” the major said, glancing up at it. “All right, Commander. Let’s go.”

  In many ways, Hyllyard City reminded Luke of Mos Eisley: small houses and commercial buildings crammed fairly tightly together, with relatively narrow streets running between them. The troop headed around the perimeter, clearly aiming for one of the wider avenues that seemed to radiate, spokelike, from the center of town. Looking into the city as they passed by the outer buildings, Luke was able to catch occasional glimpses of what seemed to be an open area a few blocks away. The town square, possibly, or else a spacecraft landing area.

  The vanguard had just reached the target street when, in perfect synchronization, the stormtroopers abruptly changed formation. Those in the inner circle pulled in closer to Luke and Mara while those in the outer circle moved farther away, the whole crowd coming to a halt and gesturing to their prisoners to do the same. A moment later, the reason for the sudden maneuver came around the corner: four scruffy-looking men walking briskly toward them with a fifth man in the center of their square, his hands chained behind him.

  They had barely emerged from the street when they were intercepted by a group of four stormtroopers. A short and inaudible conversation ensued, which concluded with the strangers handing their blasters over to the stormtroopers with obvious reluctance. Escorted now by the Imperials, they continued on toward the main group . . . and as they walked, Luke finally got a clear look at the prisoner.

  It was Han Solo.

  The stormtroopers opened their ranks slightly to let the newcomers through. “What do you want?” the major demanded as they stopped in front of him.

  “Name’s Chin,” one of them said. “We caught this ratch snooping around the forest—maybe looking for your prisoners there. Figured you might want to have a talk with him, hee?”

  “Uncommonly generous of you,” the major said sardonically, giving Han a quick, measuring glance. “You come to this conclusion all by yourself?”

  Chin drew himself up. “Just because I don’t live in a big flashy city doesn’t mean I’m stupid,” he said stiffly. “What hai—you think we don’t know what it means when Imperial stormtroopers start setting up a temporary garrison?”

  The major gave him a long, cool look. “You’d best just hope that the garrison is temporary.” He glanced at the stormtrooper beside him, jerked his head toward Han. “Check him for weapons.”

  “We already—” Chin began. The major looked at him, and he fell silent.

  The frisking took only a minute, and came up empty. “Put him in the pocket with the others,” the major ordered. “All right, Chin, you and your friends can go. If he turns out to be worth anything, I’ll see you get a piece of it.”

  “Uncommonly generous of you,” Chin said with an expression that was just short of a sneer. “Can we have our guns back now?”

  The major’s expression hardened. “You can pick them up later at our HQ,” he said. “Hyllyard Hotel, straight across the square—but I’m sure a sophisticated citizen like yourself already knows where it is.”

  For a moment Chin seemed inclined to argue the point. But a glance at the stormtroopers clustered around evidently changed his mind for him. Without a word he turned, and he and his three companions strode back toward the city.

  “Move out,” the major ordered, and they started up again.

  “Well,” Han muttered, falling into step beside Luke. “Together again, huh?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” Luke muttered back. “Your friends there seem in a hurry to get away.”

  “Probably don’t want to miss the party,” Han told him. “A little something they threw together to celebrate my capture.”

  Luke threw him a sideways look. “Shame we weren’t invited.”

  “Real shame,” Han agreed with a straight face. “You never know, though.”

  They had turned into the avenue now, mo
ving toward the center of town. Just visible over the heads of the stormtroopers, he could see something gray and rounded directly ahead of them. Craning his neck for a better view, he saw that the structure was in fact a freestanding archway, rising from the ground near the far end of the open village square he had noticed earlier.

  A fairly impressive archway, too, especially for a city this far outside the mainstream of the galaxy. The upper part was composed of different types of fitted stone, the crown flaring outward like a cross between an umbrella and a section of sliced mushroom. The lower part curved in and downward, to end in a pair of meter-square supporting pillars on each side. The entire arch rose a good ten meters into the sky, with the distance between the pillars perhaps half that. Lying directly in front of it was the village square, a fifteen-meter expanse of empty ground.

  The perfect place for an ambush.

  Luke felt his stomach tighten. The perfect place for an ambush . . . except that if it was obvious to him, it must be obvious to the stormtroopers, as well.

  And it was. The vanguard of the party had reached the square now, and as the stormtroopers moved out of the confines of the narrow avenue, each lifted his blaster rifle a little higher and moved a little farther apart from his fellows. They were expecting an ambush, all right. And they were expecting it right here.

  Gritting his teeth, Luke focused again on the archway. “Is Threepio here?” he muttered to Han.

  He sensed Han’s frown, but the other didn’t waste time with unnecessary questions. “He’s with Lando, yeah.”

  Luke nodded and glanced down to his right. Beside him, Artoo was rolling along the bumpy street, trying hard to keep up. Bracing himself, Luke took a step in that direction—

  And with a squeal, Artoo tripped over Luke’s outstretched foot and fell flat with a crash.

  Luke was crouched beside him in an instant, leaning over him as he struggled with his manacled hands to get the little droid upright again. He sensed some of the stormtroopers moving forward to assist, but for that single moment, there was no one else close enough to hear him. “Artoo, call to Threepio,” he breathed into the droid’s audio receptor. “Tell him to wait until were at the archway to attack.”

  The droid complied instantly, its loud warble nearly deafening Luke as he crouched there beside him. Luke’s head was still ringing when rough hands grabbed him under the arms and hauled him to his feet. He regained his balance—

  To find the major standing in front of him, a suspicious scowl on his face. “What was that?” the other demanded.

  “He fell over,” Luke told him. “I think he tripped—”

  “I meant that transmission,” the major cut him off harshly. “What did he say?”

  “He was probably telling me off for tripping him,” Luke shot back. “How should I know what he said?”

  For a long minute the major glared at him. “Move out, Commander,” he said at last to the stormtrooper at his side. “Everyone stay alert.”

  He turned away, and they started walking again. “I hope,” Han murmured from beside him, “you know what you’re doing.”

  Luke took a deep breath and fixed his eyes on the archway ahead. “So do I,” he murmured back.

  In a very few minutes, he knew, they would both find out.

  CHAPTER

  29

  “Oh, my!” Threepio gasped. “General Calrissian, I have—”

  “Quiet, Threepio,” Lando ordered, peering carefully around the edge of the window at the minor commotion going on across the square. “Did you see what happened, Aves?”

  Crouched down beneath the windowsill, Aves shook his head. “Looked like Skywalker and his droid both fell over,” he said. “Couldn’t tell for sure—too many stormtroopers in the way.”

  “General Calrissian—”

  “Quiet, Threepio.” Lando watched tensely as two stormtroopers pulled Luke to his feet, then righted Artoo. “Looks like they’re okay.”

  “Yeah.” Aves reached down to the floor beside him, picked up the small transmitter. “Here we go. Let’s hope everyone’s ready.”

  “And that Chin and the others aren’t still carrying their blasters,” Lando added under his breath.

  Aves snorted. “They aren’t. Don’t worry—stormtroopers are always confiscating other people’s weapons.”

  Lando nodded, adjusting his grip on his blaster, wishing they could get this over with. Across the way, the Imperials seemed to have gotten themselves sorted out and were starting to move again. As soon as they were all inside the square, away from any possible cover . . .

  “General Calrissian, I must speak to you,” Threepio insisted. “I have a message from Master Luke.”

  Lando blinked at him. “From Luke?”

  —but even as he said it he suddenly remembered that electronic wail from Artoo just after he’d fallen over. Could that have been—? “What is it?”

  “Master Luke wants you to hold off the attack,” Threepio said, obviously relieved that someone was finally listening to him. “He says you’re to wait until the stormtroopers are at the arch before firing.”

  Aves twisted around. “What? That’s crazy. They outnumber us three to one—we give them any chance at all at cover and they’ll cut us to pieces.”

  Lando looked out the window, grinding his teeth together. Aves was right—he knew enough of ground tactics to realize that. But on the other hand . . . “They’re awfully spread out out there,” he said. “Cover or no cover, they’re going to be hard to take out. Especially with those speeder bikes on their perimeter.”

  Aves shook his head. “It’s crazy,” he repeated. “I’m not going to risk my people that way.”

  “Luke knows what he’s doing,” Lando insisted. “He’s a Jedi.”

  “He’s not a Jedi now,” Aves snorted. “Didn’t Karrde explain about the ysalamiri?”

  “Whether he has Jedi powers or not, he’s still a Jedi,” Lando insisted. His blaster, he realized suddenly, was pointed at Aves. But that was okay, because Aves’s blaster was pointed at him, too. “Anyway, his life is more on the line here than any of yours—you can always abort and pull back.”

  “Oh, sure,” Aves snorted, throwing a glance out the window. The Imperials were nearing the middle of the square now, Lando saw, the stormtroopers looking wary and alert as anything. “Except that if we leave any of them alive, they’ll seal off the city. And what about that Chariot up there?”

  “What about it?” Lando countered. “I still haven’t heard how you’re planning to take it out.”

  “Well, we sure as blazes don’t want it on the ground,” Aves retorted. “And that’s what’ll happen if we let the stormtroopers get to the arch. The Chariot’ll put down right across the front of it, right between us and them. That, plus the arch itself, will give them all the cover they need to sit back and take us out at their leisure.” He shook his head and shifted his grip on the transmitter. “Anyway, it’s too late to clue in the others to any plan changes.”

  “You don’t have to clue them in,” Lando said, feeling sweat collecting under his collar. Luke was counting on him. “No one’s supposed to do anything until you trigger the booby-trapped weapons.”

  Aves shook his head again. “It’s too risky.” He turned back to the window, raised the transmitter.

  And here, Lando realized—right here—was where it all came down to the wire. Where you decided who or what it was you trusted. Tactics and abstract logic . . . or people. Lowering his blaster, he gently rested the tip of the muzzle against Aves’s neck. “We wait,” he said quietly.

  Aves didn’t move; but suddenly there was something in the way he crouched there that reminded Lando of a hunting predator. “I won’t forget this, Calrissian,” he said, his voice icy soft.

  “I wouldn’t want you to,” Lando said. He looked out at the stormtroopers . . . and hoped that Luke did indeed know what he was doing.

  The vanguard had already passed the archway, and the major was only a few st
eps away from it, when four of the stormtroopers abruptly blew up.

  Quite spectacularly, too. The simultaneous flashes of yellow-white fire lit up the landscape to almost painful intensity; the thunderclap of the multiple detonations nearly knocked Luke over.

  The sound was still ringing in his ears when the blasters opened up behind them.

  The stormtroopers were good, all right. There was no panic that Luke could detect; no sudden freezing in astonishment or indecision. They were moving into combat position almost before the blaster fire had begun: those already at the archway hugging close to the stone pillars to return covering fire, the rest moving quickly to join them. Above the sound of the blasters, he could hear the increased whine of the speeder bikes kicking into high speed; overhead, he caught just a glimpse of the Chariot assault vehicle swiveling around to face the unseen attackers.

  And then an armored hand caught him under each armpit, and suddenly he was being hauled toward the archway. A few seconds later he was dumped unceremoniously in the narrow gap between the two pillars supporting the north side of the arch. Mara was already crouched there; a second later, two more stormtroopers tossed Han in to join them. Four of the Imperials moved into position over them, using the pillars for cover as they began returning fire. Struggling to his knees, Luke leaned out for a look.

  Out in the fire zone, looking small and helpless amid the deadly horizontal hail of blaster fire, Artoo was rolling toward them as fast as his little wheels would carry him.

  “I think we’re in trouble,” Han muttered in his ear. “Not to mention Lando and the others.”

  “It’s not over yet,” Luke told him tightly. “Just stick close. How are you at causing distractions?”

  “Terrific,” Han said; and to Luke’s surprise, he brought his hands out from behind his back, the chain and manacles he’d been wearing hanging loosely from his left wrist. “Trick cuffs,” he grunted, pulling a concealed strip of metal from the inside of the open cuff and probing at Luke’s restraints. “I hope this thing—ah.” The pressure on Luke’s wrists was suddenly gone; the cuffs opened and dropped to the ground. “You ready for your distraction?” Han asked, taking the loose end of his chain in his free hand.