Lando leaned close to Threepio and breathed words in the faintest of whispers, knowing he would not be overheard in the general stirring of the blobs. “Enhance your optical sensors so you can make out what he’s doing, and record everything for later playback. We may need proof if we’re going to get this guy.”
Before the droid could answer, Lando clamped his hand over Threepio’s mouth to keep him silent. Threepio nodded and turned to stare at the man in the shadows.
With a whirring sound Artoo-Detoo puttered down the walkway between the pens. Tymmo looked up, startled, but Artoo carried a cleaning attachment and scrubbed the floor under the pens. He whirred right by Tymmo, ignoring the man just as a cleaning droid would do. Lando nodded in admiration for the little astromech.
Tymmo turned back to his work, shaken by Artoo’s appearance and apparently wanting to be out of there as soon as possible.
“Sir!” Threepio cried. “He just implanted a small object in the protoplasm of that blob!”
Tymmo whirled and grabbed at one of the pockets of his jumpsuit. Lando didn’t need greater illumination to recognize a blaster being drawn.
“Thanks a lot, Threepio!” he said as he tackled the droid. An instant later a blaster bolt sparked off the wall near where they had been standing a moment before. “Come on!”
He scrambled to his feet and ran over to where Tymmo had been hiding, ducking to take advantage of the cover the blob pens offered. Another blaster shot ricocheted through the dimness, missing them by a wide margin.
“Artoo!” Threepio wailed. “Sound the alarms! Call the guards! Alert the corral owner! Anybody!”
Tymmo shot at them again, and Threepio gasped as sparks erupted close to his head. “Oh, dear!”
Inside the corral the blobs awakened and stirred, rearing up against the bars of their pens.
He heard Tymmo crash into the corner of a cage. They reached the pen where Tymmo had been meddling. Lando kept his head low. “Threepio, see if you can tell what he planted in that blob.”
“Do you really think that’s wise right at the moment, sir?”
“Do it!” Lando had his own blaster drawn, scanning the shadows for Tymmo’s form.
Ratcheting alarms rang out. “Good work, Artoo,” Lando mumbled.
Seeing a hunched, moving form, Lando risked a shot on stun but missed. An indignant series of electronic noises told him he had almost deactivated Artoo. “Sorry about that.”
By firing his blaster Lando had given away his position. Tymmo shot back, but his energy bolt spanged off the wall. Lando fired again, and as the stun beam expanded outward, he saw several blobs in its path curl up and condense sideways.
“A shoot-out at the blob corral,” Lando said to himself. “Just the way I wanted to spend my vacation.”
Threepio stood next to the pen trying to determine exactly what Tymmo had been doing. The blob itself, riled by the disturbance, reared up against the bars, leaning into the cage door. Dim light glinted off Threepio’s polished body, offering a clear target; but this time when Tymmo fired, his blaster bolt incinerated the lock on the pen. With the pressing weight of the blob, the door flung open, and the entire gelatinous mass dumped onto Threepio’s head, oozing down his body. The droid’s muffled cries of panic came through the wet protoplasm.
Seeing Tymmo’s form move through the shadows, Lando sprinted after him. The other man made for the archway exit as fast as he could move in the murkiness. “Tymmo! Hold it right there!”
Tymmo turned to glance in Lando’s direction, then put on a burst of reckless speed. At that moment Artoo scuttled out of the shadows, placing himself directly in the running man’s path. Tymmo crashed into the droid, somersaulted into the air, and landed on his back.
Lando pounced, grabbing Tymmo’s blaster arm and yanking it behind his back until the weapon dropped free. “Good job, Artoo.”
Tymmo thrashed and struggled as the alarms continued to sound. “Get away from me! I won’t let you take me back to her!”
“Help me! Help!” Threepio cried. He waved his arms, frantically trying to wipe blob material from his outer shell.
Guard droids and human security officers scrambled into the grotto. Lights flared on as somebody upped the illumination. Tymmo fought more frantically.
“Over here!” Lando called.
The guard droids took possession of Tymmo, clamping their restraining arms around him. Another reached out to grasp Lando, and he suddenly realized he had no good reason to be in the blob corral either.
“What in the bleeping miasma is going on here!” a deep voice roared. A hirsute man who looked as if he had dressed hurriedly strode into the corral area. “And shut off those blasted alarms! They’re upsetting my blobs, and they’re giving me a headache.”
“Over here, Mr. Fondine,” one of the human guards answered.
The man came over to see Tymmo struggling in the guard droid’s straitjacket grasp. Lando caught his attention. “I’ve uncovered a possible sabotage of the races, sir. This man here has been tinkering with the blobs.”
The man gave Tymmo an acid glance, then turned back to Lando. “I’m Slish Fondine, owner of these stables. You’d better tell me who you are and why you’re here.”
Lando realized, with some surprise, that he had nothing to hide. “I’m General Calrissian, a representative of the New Republic. I have been investigating this man, Tymmo, as part of an entirely different mission, but I believe you will be very interested to study his track record of wins.”
Tymmo glared at Lando. “You’ll never take me back to her! I couldn’t stand that—you don’t know how she is. I’ll die first.”
Slish Fondine shushed him with a wave of his hand. “That can be arranged, if what the general says is true. On Umgul cheaters are executed.” The alarm sirens finally fell silent.
“Will somebody please help me!” Threepio cried.
Fondine saw the droid struggling with the dripping greenish mass and rushed over to assist him. Brushing the protoplasm back up into the main mass, Fondine shushed and cooed the blob. “Easy now.” He spoke to Threepio as well. “Stop struggling! The blob is as afraid of you as you are of it. Just be calm.” He lowered his voice. “They can sense fear, you know.”
Threepio tried to remain still as Fondine gently coerced the blob to reincorporate back toward its pen. Threepio suddenly grew excited again. “Sir! I’ve just found a near-microscopic electronic object inside this blob’s protoplasm. Magnifying … it appears to be a micro-motivator!”
Lando suddenly understood what Tymmo had been doing. A micro-motivator implanted in the blob could send out a powerful internal stimulus, provoke a frantic flight response in any creature. If tuned properly, the micro-motivator could give a blob the speed born of absolute terror. The gadget was so tiny that Tymmo could self-destruct it after the blob had successfully won a race, leaving only minuscule traces of a few component elements in the blob tissue. And no one would ever know.
Slish Fondine glared daggers at Tymmo. “That is vile blasphemy against the whole spirit of blob racing.”
Tymmo squirmed. “I had to have the money! I had to get off planet before she gets here.”
In exasperation Lando said, “Who are you talking about? Who is she?” He freed himself from the guard droid’s grip.
Tymmo’s eyes goggled at Lando’s question. “Didn’t she send you to get me? I saw you spying on me at the races. You tried to catch me, but I escaped. I’ll never go back to her.”
“Who?!” both Lando and Slish Fondine bellowed in unison.
“The Duchess Mistal, of course. She clings to me every second, she blows in my ear, she won’t let me out of her sight—and I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to get away.”
Lando and Fondine looked at each other without comprehension, but Artoo trundled up, chittering an explanation. Threepio, extricated from the blob mass, stepped forward to translate.
“Artoo has run a check. The Duchess Mistal of Dargul has posted a m
illion-credit reward for the safe return of her lost consort—apparently, he ran away from her. The man’s official name is Dack, but his description precisely matches that of Mr. Tymmo here.”
Tymmo hung his head in misery. Fondine crossed his arms over his chest. “Well? What have you got to say for yourself?”
“Yes, I’m Dack.” He heaved a huge sigh. “The Duchess Mistal reached her age of marriage two years ago and decided to find the perfect consort. She advertised across the galaxy for likely candidates, and she received millions of applicants. I was one of them. Who wouldn’t want the job? She was rich and young and beautiful. All the consort would have to do is live in total opulence and be doted upon by the duchess.”
Tears sprang to Tymmo’s eyes. “My particular talent was electronic wizardry. I built those micro-motivators from scratch. When I applied for the consort position, I knew my odds were small. But I succeeded in hacking into the central computer in Palace Dargul, sabotaging the other applicants, planting an algorithm so that the computer would spit out my name as the perfect choice.”
Slish Fondine looked nauseated at the mere concept of cheating in such a heinous manner.
“The duchess and I were married, and everything seemed exactly as I had expected—at first. But the duchess was convinced I was her perfect match, fated to be with her forever. Every waking moment of the day she refused to let me move more than arm’s length away from her. She would wake me up at all hours of the night, find me during her meal breaks. She would trap me in the gardens, in the libraries.”
Tymmo’s eyes grew wild, shining with panic. “I thought she would get tired of me—or at least used to having me around—but it went on for more than a year! I couldn’t sleep, I jumped at shadows. I was a wreck, and that made her feel sorry for me … so she clung even tighter!
“And I couldn’t leave! On Dargul they mate for life. Life! She’ll never give up searching, and she’ll never take another mate as long as I live.” Tymmo looked as if a scream hovered on his lips. “I’ll never be free of her! I had to escape.”
“Well, it looks like you’ve finally found a way out,” Slish Fondine said in an angry voice. “As an admitted scam artist, you’ll be promptly executed under the laws of Umgul.”
To Lando’s surprise Tymmo didn’t even try to defend himself. He seemed resigned to his fate.
But Lando wasn’t so sure about the idea. “Let’s think about this a minute, Mr. Fondine. Did you say there’s a million-credit reward for his safe return to the duchess, Artoo?”
Artoo chirped an affirmative.
“Now, Mr. Fondine, think of what a wonderful gift of state this would be for the upcoming visit of the duchess, returning her consort in time to ease her loneliness.”
Tymmo groaned in misery.
“On the other hand, if you were to execute him, knowing he is her missing consort, things could get very unpleasant between Umgul and your sister planet. Might even be cause for war.”
Fondine’s face darkened with the possibilities, but his honor had been so offended that the choice was not clear to him.
He sighed. “We will leave it up to the prisoner himself. Tymmo, or Dack, or whatever your name is—do you wish to be executed or returned to the Duchess Mistal?”
Tymmo swallowed hard. “How long do I have to think about it?”
“It’s not a trick question!” Lando said.
Tymmo sighed. “Can I at least be allowed to rest until she gets here? I’m going to need all my strength.”
The Lady Luck cruised out of the huge grotto of Umgul’s spaceport, rising above the mists into the sky. Slish Fondine had insisted, out of fairness, that he would transfer half of the duchess’s reward into Lando’s account when she arrived.
No longer penniless, Lando would have seed money to invest in some new operation, some other scheme that could excite him. He had tried the molten metal mines on Nkllon, and the Tibanna gas mines on Bespin. He wondered what he might find next.
Though he had tried his best to track down a worthy candidate for Luke’s Jedi academy, he hated to return empty-handed to Coruscant. But he knew there would be others.
Threepio remained uncharacteristically silent as the Lady Luck burst into hyperspace, heading home.
10
Images of starships whirled through space like pinpoints of fire around Coruscant. The holographic map of the system showed the locations of all vessels in range and plotted approved approach orbits on a huge spherical grid. Data terminals spewed information on vessel sizes and landing requirements, keeping track of anyone reporting impaired control. A scattering of red danger zones marked debris clouds of wrecked ships that had not yet been removed from the battle over Coruscant.
Dozens of space-traffic controllers stood at their stations around the 3-D map of the planet, pointing at images with light pens and drawing safe-approach vectors or prioritizing landing patterns. One of the war-damaged spaceports on the western end of Imperial City had just been brought back on-line in the last week, and much of the shuttle traffic was being rerouted there to ease the burden on landing platforms around the Imperial Palace.
Leia Organa Solo stood beside one of the traffic controllers. Seeing how busy the woman was directing space traffic, Leia tried not to ask too many questions, but she found it difficult to wait.
“There’s something.” The traffic controller reached up with the light pen to indicate a squarish violet icon used for Small Starship—Type Unknown. “Could that be the one you’re waiting for, Minister Organa Solo? Just popped out of hyperspace. Unable to determine previous vector.”
Leia felt a surge of excitement. “Yes, that’s the one. Have they requested clearance yet?”
The traffic controller touched a receiver implant at her temple. “Coming in now. The pilot sends only her name. Sounds like some kind of code. Winter?”
Leia smiled. “No, that’s her real name. Give her clearance to land on the top northside platform of the Imperial Palace, my authorization.” She drew in a deep breath, feeling her heart pound faster. “I’ll go meet her personally.” She turned and took two quick steps away before she remembered to thank the traffic controller for her help. “Come on, Threepio,” Leia said as she bustled past him.
The protocol droid snapped to attention, then hurried after her with his stiff-legged gait. He had returned to Coruscant with Artoo and Lando three days earlier and spent four hours in a luxurious lubricant-and-scrubber bath. Now he gleamed like new, with all traces of blob mucus removed from his finish.
Leia heard Threepio’s motivators humming as he followed. She ignored him, lost in her own conflicting thoughts. Han should have been back from Kessel two days ago, but still she had heard no word from him. He’d probably fallen in with some of his old smuggling buddies, had too much to drink, gambled far into the late hours, and completely forgotten about his other obligations. It was a good thing Chewbacca had sworn a blood oath to protect him, because Han was going to have to face her when he got back, and he was going to need a Wookiee’s protection. How dare he forget something like this?
For now, Leia would welcome her twin children home. Alone.
Standing on the top deck of the palace, Leia craned her neck and searched the hazy skies. Coruscant’s aurora shimmered through the twilight, eclipsed by the complex matrix of the great orbiting shipyards.
“Threepio, tell me the minute you see them coming.” The breeze tossed loose strands of hair in front of her eyes.
“Yes, Mistress Leia. I’m searching.” In an imitation of a human gesture, Threepio cupped two golden hands around his optical sensors as if it would help him focus better. “Don’t you think it would be wiser for us to step back slightly from the edge?”
Leia held her breath. Her children were coming home. They had not set foot on Coruscant for nearly two years, but now they would be back to stay. She could be a real mother to them, at last.
Just after their birth the twins had been sequestered on a secret planet uncove
red by Luke and Admiral Ackbar. It was a world unrecorded on any chart, but habitable and protected. Luke and Ackbar had established a heavily guarded base there, leaving Leia’s trusted servant Winter behind to watch over the Jedi children.
She suspected Luke had given the children a bit more than just Winter for protection, though.
During their protective isolation Leia had managed to visit Jacen, Jaina, and Anakin every few months, usually with Han in tow. At a prearranged time Winter would pop out of hyperspace in a long-distance shuttle. Without ever knowing their destination, Leia and Han would climb aboard the shuttle, be sealed in the back passenger compartment, and Winter would take them to the protected planet. The New Republic Senate was appalled at Leia’s mysterious movements, but Luke and Ackbar had silenced their objections.
Leia hoped she would be able to find the time to visit her baby boy, little Anakin, now that she had the twins to watch over. It would be a tragedy if she had to be even less of a mother to the baby than she had been to these two.
“There it is, Mistress Leia!” Threepio pointed up at a flickering point of light that grew brighter every second. “A shuttle is coming down.”
She felt a spasm of anxiety mixed with a thrill of excitement.
The shuttle approached, winking red and green lights in the twilight sky. It circled the former Imperial Palace, then activated its repulsorlifts to come down with a gentle sigh on the landing platform. Angular and buglike, the shuttle bore no markings, no indication of its planet of origin.
With a hiss of equalizing pressure, the hatch of the shuttle’s passenger compartment split open, gently extending a ramp. Leia bit her lip and took a step forward, squinting into the sharp shadows. The shuttle blocked most of the breeze, leaving the area still and silent.
The young twins stepped out side by side and waited at the top of the ramp. Leia stared at Jacen and Jaina, both self-composed and dark-haired, with wide avid eyes and small faces that looked like the ghosts of Han and Leia.
Star Wars: The Jedi Academy Trilogy I: Jedi Search Page 13