Chapter 7

That frog and I have been walking for almost an hour now. Nothing is changing. The scenery repeats itself like stars in hyperspace. On the contrary though, I am going nowhere fast. My clothes are still uncomfortably damp, but they are not dripping wet or sticking to my skin so much anymore. How much longer will I have to trudge along before this path gives? Hanging my despondent head down, I observe the ground. It is comprised of moist dirt with wood chips and small rocks. I kick a twig. The surrounding trees are quite big. Their trunks are about three feet wide, brown with grey streaks under soft, loose, fibrous bark. They grow high, but they are not what makes this canopy so massively wide spread. Giant pale trees, almost three times larger, are distributed every seventy feet or so. The brown ones are barren; only wispy strings of deadmoss hang from them. But these are humongous and offshoot long green limbs as big as the more common trees, and sprout long supple branches lush with foliage. That is what forms the impenetrable roof the canopy.

The fog appears nearer by now. It is an alien sight. Expecting another calamity, I slow down and contemplate reaching for my blaster or vibroblade. Instinctively, I draw the blaster from its holster and hold it cautiously low by my hip. As I near the fog, I face its mystery. A white mist rolls against my face. Imperceptibly sourced within it is a pale golden glow. It has no scent. If it were toxic, I would be dead or feel sick by now. Could it be alive? The heat off of some monster? No way. It cannot be. I stop walking and holster the blaster. The fog stretches for miles all around. No creature exists so large. It is either the threshold of another natural terror or the gateway to destiny. Either way, I will advance through it. My maddening mind is now callous to fright. The repeated trauma of near death in a such a short time as today has so consumed my psyche that I unwittingly crave it more of it. Have I conquered fear or has fear conquered me?

Drawn to the unknown, I reach into the fog feeling nothing but condensed moisture like a suspended ocean sea. My hand disappears into the dense mist. I gaze lost and perplexed. Just then, the frog jumps into my peripheral view, straight into the mystic brume. "Hey!" Instinctively, again, I shout at the frog as it disappears, then jump start to follow it. What will it get me into now?

Running and squinting, I could not see past a few inches ahead. My arms waved to clear a path for some vision, but I would barely see my own nose if I tried to look at it. Yet, I kept running in the direction that the frog seemed to go. What I actually ran through took only moments to pass. From an outsider's perspective, you would see me in and out in a flash. However, it felt like an eternity while in it.

All went silent, the jungle birds and clicking critters, but a low, dull, deafening hum. I went insane inside, lost in that fog. Unmoving, far out in the distance, remained fixed that vague, golden glow, ostensibly unattainable like one's own future. Thoughts and memories rushed my mind. An unending parade of my livelong past mocked me in vain glory of my unceremonious life. Visions of old haunts made me wince in cringing reflection. Taunted by a cavalcade of old familiar voices, I stumbled and tripped in fearful humiliation and hesitation.

"You are a fool." "You are wrong. You are making a mistake." Condemnations of all sorts struck me branded like a hot iron. "Why would you leave Naboo?"

"Are you giving up? You quit? What is wrong with him? He is weak. What a loser." "He must be sick." "Crazy." "Look at him running. How pathetic. What a waste." "Oh, poor boy. He has lost his mind." "He is delusional." "Do not quite your day job. You are not cut out for space." "Pitiful." "What do you know about ships? The galaxy is a dangerous place." "You will make good credits working in the spaceport. You will be set. Your life is laid out for you so neatly." "You went to the Royal Academy for nothing, spoiled brat." "You are wasting all our time."

"No, do not take off. Stay grounded." "No, do not leave us." "How dare you chase your dreams! What about mine?" "How dare you fly." "You cannot be courageous if we will not." "We are scared. We need you. Do not leave us." "Who will do whatever we say?" "You were such a good boy." "We had you squared away." "Your life was in order. It made sense to us." "We do not want to see you hurt." "We don't want to have to think about you anymore." "Just come back." "Come back here, slave!"

At that last thought, I raged. I would be scared no longer. If I can survive a crash landing, if that sarlacc could not kill me, if the jungle mire could not drown me, I will come out of this fog stronger than ever!"

Although only a few seconds transpired in reality, it felt so much longer than that. As I emerged, I felt a whoosh of wind rush around my senses to fill the void, as if time had been slowed to a single grain of sand and then stormed all at once to catch back up its seconds.

A heavy experience, that was. I found myself jogging a little farther to move ahead of the fog. I looked back and it was gone. The fog had disappeared without a trace. All you could see was denser jungle where the fog once lay. Sun shone on the meadow to which I emerged. I kept walking forward with my hands on my hips, disturbed and exhausted. I just wanted to move on. It took several moments to get my mind and reality aligned together in present time.

Great, there is that frog again, and now it has got a friend. Oh, a girl friend. "Good for you, buddy." I huff out a weak laugh. What is going to happen next? I wonder. This is one surreal jungle.

A hill now lies before me. This will be the easiest obstacle of the day. It is fairly steep, rising about forty feet at sixty degrees. At first, my feet sink a little and I slide back down a tiny bit every time I step into its soft, damp topsoil. Leaning forward as I climb, I press my hands down on my thighs to generate extra momentum up. I stumble a few times, catching myself by clawing into the hillface to keep my place. With a few pants and sighs and couple of hands full of dirt, I make it to the top. What reveals itself is a site like no other: the ruined remains of a pyramidal temple now torn asunder.

Impressive though it would be to see any presence of civilization so deep in this jungle, the temple in terms of sheer magnitude in size does not seem so grand. The peak of its grandeur lies in its sharply conical spires that pierce the misty sky hundreds of feet, ninety meters high. The rest of the layout is not so clear. There is no discernible entrance. Just like the jungle, its grounds look uniform all around. But if I have learned anything from this experience, it is that there is always a way in a slip in appearance, a path to advance. Circling around all four corners of the temple, I see no entrance yet. There is not much walkable ground to explore. A dirt trail twirls around and about collapsed ceilings, columns, and ruined walls. Figurative drawings etch these coarse grey stones. It was built at the foot of a small mountain that commences at the top of the hillground. Beyond the pillars and what looks to be sorts of gardens or ritual grounds is the usual jungle again.

I will pause for a moment. Thirsty, I flip around my backpack and pull out a canteen. As I toss my head back, I catch a glimpse of the late afternoon sun. A curious sensation flutters a thought. I feel certain. There is no need to worry. I will know what to do. The sun is setting past the rising slope of the mountain's base. It is not quite evening yet, but it will soon be dark. I would be wise to find shelter now. Putting back my drink, I keep thinking about the sun. Turning to face it, I feel funny. A hunch says the sunset is a clue. Maybe Hammil knows something about this place. I wish he told me more. Did he? "Darn. Shoot." I figured I would see some skeletons littered along the way or a dead man's treasure map. Nothing. I should check out that spot where the ground seems to touch the sun. It stands at a height that should provide a good look at the entire temple's ground. I make my way up a long, gently sloping ascent to the spot where the planet's surface eclipsed my view the sunset. The spot that provides a fair vista of the temple, and the full height of the canopy, with a sliver of green sea in the distance. From here, the horizon is open sky – a breath of fresh air. It brings me peace thinking about all the space up there. A whole galaxy awaits for me to explore. Sure, my starship may be crashed, but one way or the other I can get off of this rock. I just have to stay alive. This hope comforts me, distracting from the present reality and giving me a reason to live – extra motivation to survive.

"Ok, let's see." The temple is not very tall. Kind of sharp and craggy. I have never seen pyramids so lean and bunched up together like this. They look more like spires or an outgrowth of stalagmite rock in a cave. It looks mean, scary, like a spike pit. It is built before the slope of the mountain atop the flat crest of the smaller hill that piles into the foot of the mountain. It is easy to see the whole of the temple's outer walkway littered with columns and pillars. The grounds look symmetrical. What's that on the far side? I cannot quite make it out. Hm. It looks like there are a few extra structures in that corner than in the rest. That is the only difference I can see. Looking back down at the way I came up from, then back to that anomalous spot, I match up my route and destination and head back down. With a quick pace, nearly flying, I skip downhill.

"Here we go. That is the spot." I approach the area confidently and upright. "There are extra columns over here. It looks different. It feels different." At this corner of the ruins stand two pillars in good shape. Two more spill diagonally from them, fallen onto the ground. And between them is a perfectly shaped, triangular chasm, flush against the light slope of the hill. It is a threshold to a white stone corridor that shoots a fair way quite steeply underground.

This is going to be dangerous, my blaster tells me as it asks to be held. Good idea. Night will fall soon and this will be better than any shelter I can build, I reassure myself as I cautiously walk in slow with blaster in hand.

The structure is impressive, forebodingly strong. Clean and untouched, it has apparently held off this planet's jungle growth for a mighty long time. A hundred meters down this tunneling chamber turns the corner to another slanted ramp descending below in the reverse direction.

It looks more like a tomb inside than a temple, with its narrow, shooting tunnels. The floor is flat, and the two walls lean into each other forming a triangle. A straight luminescent line lit up streams through the center ceiling of this triangular hallway. What is it made of? No way this place still has a power source running. It looks ancient. Who could have built it? Yavin's moons never had any civilization. Whoever made this here must have been kept in secret. This place must be special. My curiosity continues, but better judgment tells me to silence my thoughts. They feel loud and intrusive like they are disturbing - someone is listening - some group of people trying to focus. There is another turn, a blind corner. The final hallway. The floor flattens out at the bottom of this one, another 100 meters down.

Now finally down those white stone corridors, I am faced with a wall slightly darker, greyer, and covered in motifs like those that decorated the ruins outside. Archaic symbols, a language I cannot read nor recognize. Crudely carved figures of beasts and people and strange straight lines. At the center, an unwelcoming bestial face leers at whoever stands before it. As I slowly near it, I feel a short rumble and stop. It is the door to another hallway. It rises all the way up, sliding through stone with no apparent pulley or lever, just barely grinding against the sides of the walls. An automatic door that slides vertically, made of stone? This place begins to seem less ruined and more alive.

There are several more hallways with similarly decorated doors. They lead on, further deep into the mountainside, but flat and level, not any lower in gradient. I must be at the bottom of whatever this is. Some turn left and some turn right and some go straight ahead. There is no option or choice of doors, just one way to go. Which is fine. Otherwise, I would get lost among all these narrow corridors. Finally, through the last door, I spill out into a wide open space: the bottom floor of some sort of arena, with overhanging mezzanines and balconies overhead.