There were times when Han Solo wished that the Millennium Falcon was big enough to have a cloaking device. Right now was definitely one of those times.
The Falcon was coming up on the planet Ithor, a lush jungle world. It was the home of the peaceful Ithorians, or Hammerheads, as they were sometimes called. The only problem was that the “peaceful” planet was home to two Imperial Star Destroyers. Even one of the enormous ships would have been too many. Two were almost enough to quell a major uprising — almost enough to launch an invasion.
And if that wasn’t enough, Solo could see a couple hundred TIE fighters buzzing between the Star Destroyers, part of the Empire’s complex training maneuvers.
“If these Imperials spot us, we’re dead,” Princess Leia warned. She stood in the cockpit, behind Solo and his copilot Chewbacca, beside the Ithorian Momaw Nadon. Luke was in the gun bay, in case some TIE fighters got too close. The droids See-Threepio and Artoo-Detoo were at a repair station, testing circuitry.
“Believe me,” Solo said. “If they spot us, I’m getting out of here.”
“I beg you,” Momaw Nadon pleaded, “do not leave my world too quickly. We are in dire need of your assistance. Your Rebel cohorts have promised to clear these ships away by noon tomorrow.” The Ithorian had two mouths — one on each side of his long curved neck. He spoke with both mouths at once, so that his words came out in stereo. It made a distinctly odd sound.
“Don’t worry,” Leia said, “the Rebel Alliance won’t desert you in your hour of need.” Then she added harshly, “Will they, Solo?”
Solo licked his lips. The Falcon was fitted with an Imperial transponder, a device that identified Solo’s ship as an Imperial diplomatic shuttle, carrying a minor official down to the planet. So far, everything was going great…
…But if any of the TIE fighters got close enough to the Falcon, they would know by the shape of the ship that it wasn’t a diplomatic shuttle.
Solo released a ragged breath. “I don’t think we can make it down there. I don’t care what Admiral Ackbar says — this isn’t going to work.”
“It must work,” Momaw Nadon said. Solo glanced up at the Ithorian. He was dressed in a simple clerical robe. He didn’t look like a grand revolutionary leader. Yet the Rebel Alliance thought it imperative to deliver him to his home planet. The peaceful Ithorians were on the verge of revolt against the Empire, but they needed someone to lead them in their fight. Momaw Nadon was the Ithorian for the job.
A message came into the Falcon from a Star Destroyer. “Imperial shuttle, what is your cargo and destination?”
Solo started to speak, but was interrupted as Leia clapped a hand over his mouth and whispered, “You’re never any good at this. Let me do the talking.”
She spoke into the microphone. “Our destination is the Ithorian herdship, the Tafanda Bay. Our cargo is a diplomat, Master Torturer Sir Vengnar Heiff.”
For a nervous moment they waited for approval. Sir Vengnar Heiff was ruthless and efficient, the Empire’s finest, torturer. He was often called to extract sensitive information from Rebel leaders.
“Ah,” came a tense voice over the communicator, “we have been expecting Sir Heiff. Admiral Greeb wishes to know if he would like to dine on our ship before completing his mission.”
Great, Solo thought. These folks were expecting the Torturer, and now they want to have a dinner party.
“No,” Leia said after a moment, as if she’d consulted with someone. “Sir Heiff is eager to get to work.”
The voice that came over the communicator sounded relieved. “Admiral Greeb regrets that Sir Heiff is so busy, but he understands. There is much to be done on the planet. Proceed to the Tafanda Bay. We’ll let them know that you are coming.”
“Go ahead,” Leia told Solo. “Go in for a landing.”
Solo was having second thoughts. “Are you sure? They’re expecting the Torturer down on the Tafanda Bay. When Sir Heiff doesn’t show up in about half an hour, they’ll know something is wrong. It could be a lot harder getting off this rock than getting on.”
Solo imagined himself in a dogfight, trying to escape from Ithor. He’d just got the Falcon in top running condition. He didn’t want to see his ship get all shot up.
But still — he had been told that Grubba the Hutt was on Ithor. And if Solo ever wanted to get Jabba the Hutt’s bounty off his head, he’d need the younger Hutt as a bargaining chip. Even if it meant certain trouble…
The Ithorian Momaw Nadon put his hand on Solo’s shoulder. “Please… for my people.”
And for Grubba…
Solo dove toward the planet, muttering under his breath, “I hope we all live to regret this.”
Aboard the Ithorian herdship Tafanda Bay, Dengar strolled with the bounty hunters Udin and Eron Stonefield through a lush ecology dome. Grubba the Hutt was safely captured. The Tafanda Bay was more than a ship. It was a city where hundreds of thousands of Ithorians dwelt, the largest of its kind. It was the Ithorians’ greatest achievement. The Ithorians prided themselves on living harmoniously with their environment.
The dome held giant pools of water. The Ithorians had bred lilies for hundreds of generations, so that their enormous blossoms came in a rainbow of colors. Their gentle fragrance perfumed the dome.
The Imperial General Olan Dewes, a tall young man, was showing off the Tafanda Bay, which he had recently captured for the Empire. “This dome holds some of the more sacred of the Ithorian plants,” he informed the bounty hunters. “The giant lilies are beautiful to look at, but it is the roots of the plants that intrigue the Empire. You see, the lilies anchor their roots to underwater stones using a powerful natural glue. This glue is one key to the manufacture of Ithorian leafships, the small skimmers that you may have seen outside the city. The cement is mixed with cut fibers from leaves to form a remarkably light, armored surface. We are testing it now for use on our Imperial speeders.”
“Fascinating,” Dengar said. As a swoop racer, he was intrigued with new ways to armor fast vehicles.
An aide stepped up to Dewes. “General, we have a problem. The Torturer is here.”
“Here? Now?” the general asked in dismay, paling at the news. In all the Empire, few men had as nasty a reputation as Heiff’s.
Dengar had worked with Heiff before, and was not impressed. The man was a butcher. It only showed how little the Empire valued the peaceful Ithorians, if they sent Heiff to do their dirty work.
“His shuttle just cleared security,” the aide replied.
“Thank you,” the general said. “Prepare the grand dining hall.” The aide hurried off.
“Sir Heiff?” Dengar asked. “Why is he here?”
Dewes stiffened. He clearly did not want Heiff on his planet “Some Ithorian technicians have been reluctant to reveal information. To them, the knowledge gained from the trees is not merely secret — it is sacred. Aside from a few tree-planting ceremonies, they don’t set foot in the jungles of their world. They are angry that our Imperial scholars have done so. I mentioned this in my reports, and the Empire chose to send Heiff.”
Dengar was not an emotional man. In fact, he no longer had certain emotions at all. No fear, no love. Yet he noted the reactions of the others. General Dewes seemed embarrassed and sickened. Eron Stonefield went white with shock. Even Udin drew back a pace in horror.
General Dewes said, “I only hope that the Ithorian prisoners divulge their information soon. As I told my superiors when they ordered him here, ‘We want information — not corpses.’”
Luke Skywalker studied the TIE fighters’ maneuvers as Han Solo dropped toward Ithor, calling out, “Mayday, Mayday! We’re gonna crash!
” over his communicator.
He let the ship hurtle toward the planet, pulled by gravity, as if it were spinning completely out of control. He planned to fake a crash on the planet.
As they screamed toward the ground, Solo said, “All right, now we put one little missile into the middle of those trees, and by the time the Empire discovers that there isn’t a wrecked ship down there, we’ll be long gone.” Solo armed the missile and reached for the button to launch it
Momaw Nadon lurched for Solo’s hand, pulling it back. “No!” he shouted.
Solo looked up.
“Those trees are sacred!” the Ithorian explained.
Solo seemed to think about it a moment
“Aaaaaaaaaagh!” he shouted over his communicator as the Falcon swept toward the ground. When he was close enough to the ground, he stopped shouting and turned off the communicator and the transponder at the same moment. The Empire would pinpoint the spot as the last point of contact for the crashing ship.
Solo shook his head in exasperation. “The Empire won’t believe we crashed if they don’t see something go boom.”
“It will be all right,” Luke said.
Solo pulled the Falcon up and let it skim the tops of the trees until he found an opening in the forest’s canopy.
“Whatever you say,” he replied.
The ship skimmed the surface of a wide yellow river. Atop the river was a flock of furry creatures with enormous feet and small wings. They stood on the water with wings spread and let the wind push them over the waves.
Luke had never seen a creature so naturally adapted to sailing. It was his first peek at the wonders of Ithor.
Solo flew downriver thirty miles, until he saw a peninsula reach out into the water. On top of the peninsula was a tall building of stone, a shrine with towers and a landing spot . Several Ithorians in white robes stood atop the highest. tower, waving purple streamers.
“There,” Momaw Nadon said. “Stop there. The landing bay is beneath the tower.”
Solo slowed, banking around the tower and bringing the Millennium Falcon down beneath the overhang of an ancient roof. The ship was now hidden beneath a shelf of rock.
Luke and the others were soon outside, where the moist jungle air felt cool and inviting. Several Ithorians rushed into the room where the Falcon lay hidden. A painted tarpaulin hung above the entrance. The Ithorians pulled on some ties, causing the tarpaulin to fall and cover the opening. The ship was now in a dark room. From the outside, it would look as if this ancient shrine were solid stone. The Imperials wouldn’t be able to find the Falcon.
Momaw Nadon stepped from the Falcon. One Ithorian, a woman, gave a startled cry and rushed to him. Momaw hugged her tenderly as she burst into tears.
“You’re back,” she said, nuzzling her eye stalk against his. “You’re home, after all these years. I waited for you, as I promised.”
“I am back,” Momaw Nadon soothed, “and I shall not leave you again.”
Momaw Nadon looked over the woman’s shoulder and saw Luke Skywalker. He squinted, an Ithorian expression of joy. “Luke Skywalker, my friend,” Momaw Nadon said. “I want you to meet my wife, Fandomar.”
Luke watched the tearful reunion and felt desolate. He thought of his uncle Owen and aunt Beru, the only family he had ever known. He wished that he could hold his aunt now, as Momaw Nadon held his wife.
A young Ithorian sidled up to them. He looked just like his father. Luke already knew his name: Do-Forow Nadon. “Ah, how you have grown!” Momaw Nadon rejoiced.
“Look, I’m glad you’re having a happy reunion,” Solo interrupted, “but we really need to get out of here. So if you would just point the way to your herdship, we’ll drop you off and be on our way. There’s a certain Hutt I need to find — immediately.”
Momaw Nadon shook his head. “We must consult the Oracle and discover how to get back. We cannot simply fly there.”
“The Oracle?” Solo asked. “What is that?”
Suddenly, in the passage behind Han Solo, a tall old Ithorian appeared. His hairs had gone white, and he wore a white robe, belted with twisted vines. His eyes, too, were a pale milky color. The eyes had been burned. Luke felt an immediate jolt of recognition. Though he had never seen the Ithorian before, he had felt his kind of presence before — in Obi-Wan Kenobi. This Ithorian was powerful in the Force.
“The Oracle is not a what,” the old Ithorian corrected. “It is a who.”
Momaw pointed to the old man and simply said, “The Oracle.”
In the failing sun, the Oracle led Luke and the others through the dense jungle. Though the old man was blind, he lifted his feet to avoid tripping on roots, and ducked for low branches more flawlessly than did those who trusted sight to navigate through the thick foliage.
Night was falling, yet Luke detected a faint blue light that suffused the woods.
“This is a sacred place,” the Oracle explained. “The Bafforr trees have grown here for thousands of years. If you open your minds, you can speak to them”
“Not all people can hear them,” Momaw Nadon warned. “The voices of trees can only be heard by those who have the ears to hear.”
“You think not?” the Oracle said. “Surely, all can hear them”
“You are old,” Momaw Nadon said to the Oracle. “You hear them well, and thus think that all can hear them.”
“Mmmmm…” the old one answered. “Perhaps...”
“What do the voices of the trees say?” See-Threepio piped up from the back of the line. “I myself am fluent in over six million forms of communication, but I am afraid that I have no information on how to speak with your trees.”
“The trees say,” Momaw Nadon answered, “that we must learn the ways of peace. They say they are in pain.”
“In pain?” Leia asked. “Why?”
“This grove is very ancient, and very large,” the Oracle answered. “Three days’ walk from here, the Empire is rooting up trees.”
“Whatever for?” See-Threepio asked. “Is the wood valuable?”
“The trees have long been our counselors,” the Oracle replied. “They taught us to live in harmony with nature. The trees are wise, and the Empire hopes to learn from them.”
“However,” Momaw Nadon warned, “it is not as easy to learn from them as the Empire hopes. Each tree in this forest is like a single cell in your brain. The roots of the trees intertwine, connecting them, so that they form a vast intelligence. By removing a tree, the Empire severs it from its brothers. Such trees are far more alone than any human could ever be. Their pain is extreme.”
“That’s so cruel,” Leia said. “We once had laws to protect such creatures — in the Old Republic.”
“The Empire does not respect such laws,” Momaw Nadon mourned. “They hope to plant the trees on foreign worlds and raise new groves from their seeds. We must stop them.”
“Stop them?” the Oracle asked. “How would you do that? The Empire has heard my pleas. They will not stop.”
“Of course they will not stop!” Momaw Nadon yelled. “They do not respect your wishes. They blinded you and threw you into the jungle to die.”
The Oracle objected, “I am fine. The trees show me where to place my feet, where to find food.”
“But the Empire would not have it that way,” Momaw Nadon sighed. “You are alive in spite of their will, not because of it.”
In the distance, Luke heard a flutelike noise. A piping deeper and more resonant than that made by any whistle — and its tune was far more complex. Momaw Nadon said it was the song of an arrak snake, a winged reptile that nested in the trees. Suddenly, the trees above them filled with the sound of horns, the songs of the snakes. They sang in harmony, with some snakes crying out in complex counterpoint, until it seemed that the whole sky was filled with the fascinating alien symphony. Luke was mesmerized by the sound.
“Why have you returned?” the Oracle asked Momaw Nadon softly, as if in respect for the snake’s song.
; “You know the answer. I have come to fight. Even the gardener must uproot weeds in his labor.”
“Taking a life is not the answer,” the Oracle said. “You cannot uproot the Empire. They are like the claw vine over there —” The Oracle pointed to a plant barely visible in the forest, with leaves shaped like raking claws. “You may pull it up, but its roots are far, far deeper than they seem. Pull up the plant, and the vine will simply return in greater numbers.”
“I have friends in the Rebel Alliance,” Momaw Nadon said. “Together, we can uproot the Empire.”
The Oracle stopped and turned, looking toward Momaw Nadon in wonder. “The roots of the Empire can be found in every human heart. They are found in greed and lust and fear. How can you hope to uproot that?”
Luke thought this sounded like something Obi-Wan Kenobi would say.
Solo spoke up. “Well, I don’t know if I can uproot the Empire, like you say. But with any good blaster, I can sure blow a few nuts out of its trees.”
The Oracle turned sharply and pointed a warning finger at Solo. “Beware, young man. Do not judge the Empire so hastily. Not everyone who wears an Imperial uniform is wholly given to evil.”
“I’ll try to keep that in mind,” Solo said, “next time the Imperials try to blast my head off.”
The Oracle folded his arms. He looked at Solo sternly, then studied the rest of the group.
“The Bafforr have spoken. They have shown me where you can meet the Tafanda Bay. The ship will drop low in the hills not far from here, harvesting forrolow berries and leaves. You will be able to board the ship there. But the trees do not want a blood bath. It pains them when we do violence to one another. Not all of you can go to help smuggle Momaw Nadon aboard the Tafanda Bay. You must choose wisely…”
“Listen,” Solo said to the Oracle. “I can smuggle your Rebel leader aboard the Tafanda Bay, but that’s not all I’m after—”
“Of course not,” the Oracle said. “You want the Hutt child. You believe that it can save you.”
Solo raised an eyebrow at the pale Ithorian. None of them had mentioned the Hutt in the Oracle’s presence.
Star Wars Missions 007 - Ithorian Invasion Page 1