Chapter 2
Commander Jerjerrod had enough on his plate to deal with – the last thing he needed right now was a visit from Darth Kain.
He couldn't suppress a groan of annoyance as he strode into the main hangar. Why this? Why now? A cranky, homicidal, demanding Sith Lord would only intensify the chaos they'd faced in constructing the second Death Star. Just yesterday a sabaac game between construction crews and stormtroopers during a lunch break had broken out into an angry fight that had left three men dead and a dozen more badly injured. And that was only the latest in lengthy list of delays and disasters – supply shipments that arrived late or not at all, collapsing hallways or machinery that crushed dozens of workers at a time, a rapidly mounting injury rate (no doubt a consequence of rushing the job), an artificial gravity malfunction that had caused untold pandemonium for nearly five hours…
The black-and-chrome oblong of Darth Kain's ship, appropriately dubbed the Slave, touched down with a sigh of its engines. Jerjerrod straightened and pasted on a pleasant expression as the boarding ramp lowered. Wouldn't do to irritate the Sith, would it?
Kain stalked down the ramp, silent as a shadow, his black armor gleaming darkly. His cloak drifted after him like a clinging aura of dark power, and the silver T of his visor glittered like the blade and cross-guards of an ancient broadsword. Even Jerjerrod, Force-blind though he was, could feel the chill touch of the profane energy Kain commanded.
"Lord Kain," he greeted, bowing.
Kain brushed past him as if he didn't exist. Jerjerrod heaved a sigh of relief – Kain was in a remarkably good mood.
"This is most unexpected," he continued, falling into step beside the Sith. "But we are most honored by your presence. To whom do we owe…"
"I haven't much time here," Kain rasped, never breaking his stride. "Don't waste it by lying, Commander."
He swallowed. "Forgive me, my lord."
Kain didn't reply. He didn't even turn to acknowledge the apology. His gaze took in the unfinished hallways as they strode deeper into the bowels of the station.
"Far behind schedule," Kain hissed. "I'm most disappointed."
"My men are working as fast as they can," Jerjerrod protested. /At the expense of their safety/ he wanted to add, but he wisely held his tongue.
"Perhaps I can find new ways to motivate them," Kain purred, hand moving to hover over his lightsaber.
There was a scream from nearby, and both men turned to see a crate of durasteel beams fall from a repulsorsled and crush an unsuspecting TIE pilot. Jerjerrod winced. Why hadn't the stupid clunk-headed clone stepped aside? Workers were beneath the notice of the Sith (unless they were behind schedule, of course), but a dead soldier would definitely annoy him.
"And you aren't bothering with safety straps on the cargo sleds, either," Kain noted.
"My lord, this battle station WILL be completed on schedule," Jerjerrod insisted. "One way or another, it will be completed."
Kain made a disdainful snort. "The Emperor and I don't share your optimistic appraisal of the situation, Commander."
"You're asking the impossible!" Jerjerrod exclaimed through clenched teeth. "I need more men!"
Kain didn't appear to hear the man. He was engrossed in studying the worker crews as they struggled to move the heavy crate and drag the dead pilot away.
Jerjerrod glowered at the back of the Sith's helmet, seething with hatred. Kain couldn't know how much he hated the man, how he loathed having a bounty hunter commanding his every move. How Boba Fett had risen to such a position of power and taken on a Sith title he would never know, but it infuriated him nonetheless. Who was Kain to tell him how to command his men…
"I'm well aware that you military types despise me," Kain replied, as if answering his thoughts. "And it is none of your concern why the Emperor selected me over you. If your inferiority or lack of personnel aboard this station bother you, confront the Emperor when he arrives."
That wiped Jerjerrod's mind clear of any surprise or lingering anger. "The Emperor… he's coming here?"
"Yes," Kain rasped. "Tomorrow. To provide some… motivation. Then there are other matters…" His voice trailed off as he absently flexed his right hand.
Jerjerrod nearly choked. Tomorrow! And they hadn't even gotten the turbolaser to operational status, let alone installed surface cannons!
"We shall double our efforts," he vowed, bowing.
"Your men shall, Commander," Kain snarled. "But they shall carry on without you. Your ineptitude disgusts me."
Terror swelled in Jerjerrod's chest as Kain raised a hand. But the motion only summoned a pair of stormtroopers.
"Take him to the cell blocks," Kain hissed. "He is under arrest for treason."
"Treason?!" he repeated shrilly. "You can't arrest me for treason!"
"Your actions are leaving the Empire's greatest weapon vulnerable to attack by the Rebel Alliance," Kain replied without remorse. "You are clearly abetting their cause. Take this scum away."
Jerjerrod swore and protested loudly, but Kain only spun on his heel and stormed away without a glance backward.
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The main gate to Jabba's palace ground slowly open like the maw of a prehistoric beast, allowing the blinding light of the double suns to stream into the dismal corridor. Silhouetted by the brilliant sunlight, a lone robed figure strode into the palace, silent and contemplative. A dark brown hooded robe obscured his face, and beneath the robe a sand-colored tunic and well-worn boots were visible.
Luke Skywalker had heard much about Tatooine's most powerful being, but this marked his first encounter with the crime lord – and his last, however it turned out.
As he made his way down the dim hallway, he reached out with the Force to touch the minds of his friends. Not necessarily to communicate with them, just to ascertain their positions and mental states.
Lando was in place. Excellent. Luke knew little about the former Baron Administrator of Cloud City but had been assured that they could trust the man. At any rate, he seemed helpful enough.
Forenze was in a sour mood. No surprise there. From what Luke could tell, she was hot, tired, irritated with the company the Hutt kept, and beginning to really hate sand. But at least she was where she needed to be.
Chewie was anxious – understandably so. After all, he'd been brought to Jabba's palace as a "captive." He sent a quiet pulse of comfort to the Wookie to boost his confidence a bit.
The droids were intact, he could tell that much. That was one downfall of the Force – he could read a biological mind easily enough, but mechanical minds were another matter entirely. He could safely assume, though, that Artoo was comfortable wherever he was and Threepio was a nervous wreck.
Leia… was Force-strong! He was startled to brush her mind and feel her presence glowing so brightly it nearly blinded him. He hadn't ever sensed that before. Maybe he'd just been used to her presence, and being separated from her for a year called attention to that fact. He touched her again and realized she was very worried. Part of that could be blamed on her concern for Han's welfare, but what else was wrong…
Han! He was conscious! Someone – he guessed Leia – must have jumped the gun and thawed him too early in the plan. At least he seemed to be okay, if somewhat ill from the effects of the carbonite.
Vader…
/It's about time/ Vader told him in response to his inquiry. /You're two days late. We're all worried./
/Sorry, but I got held up during my refueling stop on Ryloth/ Luke replied. /Nothing complicates a simple layover like a revolt./
Vader's mind enfolded his in a mental embrace. /It's good to hear your voice again./
/I missed you/ Luke replied, unconsciously "leaning" into his father's embrace. /What's going on in the palace right now?/
/When you didn't show up on time, Leia decided to free Han and get him to safety. I tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn't listen. Now Jabba has Han imprisoned, and Leia…/ A surge of indignation that nearly bowled Luke over. /Jabba has her chained to his throne like some sort of pet, the scumbag!/
/Whoa, Father, easy. Get any angrier and you'll wake the planet./
/Sorry./ He was silent a moment, and when he spoke again he'd regained his composure. /Having Leia captured does complicate things a bit. Our rescue might not go as smoothly as we planned./
/First we'll take the diplomatic route. Maybe Jabba will negotiate./
/I highly doubt that. Hutts are not famed for their diplomatic skills. You'll most likely have to resort to aggressive negotiations./
/Aggressive negotiations?/
/You know, negotiations with a lightsaber./
Luke nearly burst out laughing, which would not have been a good idea. For two brutish, dim-looking Gamorrean guards had stepped forward and blocked his path with crossed vibroaxes. Luke planted a brief suggestion in each of their minds, and they hurried off squealing, utterly convinced that this man had come specifically to assassinate the pair of them.
/That's edging toward the dark side, isn't it?/
/Don't get hypersensitive over what's too close to the dark side, Father/ Luke suggested. /I'm sure you can call almost all Force use of the dark side if you wanted./
/True, if you put it that way./
There was a shout ahead of him, and a white-skinned Twi-lek ran forward to intercept him, wearing a richly decorated black hooded robe, though his hood was thrown back to display his lekku.
/Bib Fortuna, Jabba's majordomo/ Vader informed Luke. /Plotting to kill Jabba, as are half of Jabba's other employees. Use caution; this man is quite crafty./
"You shouldn't be here!" Fortuna snarled in Huttese, fangs bared. "Get out! Jabba'll have no business with…"
Luke made a small gesture with his hand. "Jabba's expecting me, isn't he?"
Take aback, Fortuna took a cautious minute to reply. "Yes…"
"And you were just going to take me to see him, weren't you?"
Fortuna nodded. "I was just going to take you to see him."
"Thank you," Luke replied with an unrestrained grin.
"You're welcome," the majordomo mumbled, leading Luke into the throne room.
The place stank of stale liquor, hookah smoke, spice fumes, sweaty bodies, and blaster smoke, all intermingled with other foul odors that Luke didn't even try to place. Bodies cluttered the floor, either sleeping or in drunken stupors. An eclectic blend of aliens, obviously the palace band, were slumped over their instruments in a corner. Leia, clad in a revealing slave costume, lay sleeping on a dais beside a scrawny monkey-lizard that stared at Luke alertly. Behind Leia…
/Eww. I didn't realize Hutts were this disgusting close-up./
/He had the Imperial governor of Tatooine in here a few months ago/ Vader said amusedly. /The man had to excuse himself to throw up. Jabba ended up throwing the man to the rancor./
/Oh, so the rumors that he has a pet rancor in his basement are true?/
/Not anymore/ came the cryptic reply.
Before Luke could question further, Threepio, whose gold finish was stained with green slime, spotted Luke from his perch next to Jabba.
"Oh, Master Luke has come to rescue me!" he cried.
That woke up everyone in the throne room – including Jabba. At first glance he appeared to be just a shapeless mass of greenish-tan slime, barely contained by wrinkled, rubbery-looking skin. But a pair of stunted arms that were almost lost in the folds of fat on his chest and belly stirred, and a serpentine tail shifted, nearly knocking the raucously protesting monkey-lizard from his perch. A pair of bulbous yellowy eyes opened – slits at first, then widening with apparent outrage at the sight of Luke.
Luke sketched a polite bow, all the while taking a quick scan of the inhabitants of the throne room. Jabba's hired thugs mainly came in two races – porcine Gamorreans and weathered Weequay. Neither species was renowned for their intellect, but they were tough and took orders without question. Aside from those, he also spotted Rodians, Klatoonians, a sweltering Whiphid, a robed Chivan (hooded robes seemed to be popular among the natives to Tatooine), Grans, Twi'leks, humans, and various other creatures, some he'd only seen in holovids. Smugglers, pirates, slavers, bounty hunters, dancing girls, and hired staff that were little more than indentured servants… a rather unsavory crew in all. Even Tatooine's native tribes made an appearance – Luke spotted three Jawas next to Jabba's throne, and was that a cluster of Tusken Raiders in the corner?
/The Jawas are here for aid in settling a clan dispute, but he's put them to work fanning him in order to humiliate them. Yes, those are Tuskens, and Jabba has ordered them to care for his new pet in exchange for "protection."/
Jabba's wide gash of a mouth opened, and the voice that emerged from his ponderous bulk grated deeply.
"I told you not to admit him!" he thundered in the direction of his majordomo.
"I must be allowed to speak," Luke stated, directing the Force toward the Hutt.
"He must be allowed to speak…" Fortuna agreed, but shut his mouth hurriedly when Jabba grabbed him by the throat.
"You weak-minded fool!" he bellowed. "He's using an old Jedi mind trick!" With a disgusted snarl he flung the majordomo away, and the hapless Twi'lek landed with a discordant crash atop the band's redball organ.
/Okay, so the Force isn't going to work/ Luke thought in frustration.
"I'm here for Captain Solo," he informed Jabba, pulling his hood back. "Also for Leia and the Wookie. You can profit from this or be destroyed."
Jabba sneered at Luke. "Your mind tricks won't work on me, boy."
"Master Luke, you're standing on the…" Threepio began.
Too late Luke saw Jabba's fist slam onto a switch, and the floor beneath his feet dropped away. A Gamorrean bully-boy that had been standing too close to the trap door toppled in after Luke, and the two of them slid down a tunnel that deposited them roughly on a floor thick with dust.
/Luke!/
/I'm fine, Father/ Luke told him, getting to his feet. The chamber he'd landed in was over five meters high and as long as an Imperial shuttle. The only illumination came from a grate through which Jabba and his entourage watched their victim. Bones and animal droppings littered the dirt floor, and claw scars as long as a man was tall criss-crossed the walls.
/Well, this is an improvement to upstairs./
/It won't be for long/ Vader replied.
/So what's he got down here anyway? An acklay?/
/I wish./
/What happened to the rancor anyway?/
A thick durasteel wall shifted upward.
/Oh, so that's what happened./
The Gamorrean shrieked in pure terror.
Out of the shadows came the scaled bulk of a krayt dragon, a horned, barbed, fanged nightmare that practically ruled Tatooine's wild lands. Its enormous black eyes fixed its victims with a ravenous look, and its jaws gaped open slightly in a savage smile, slaver dripping from its lips. Powerful muscles rippled beneath its dusty scaled skin as it stalked forward.
/Jabba forced the Tuskens to capture it and tend to its needs in exchange for "protection"/ Vader explained. /He wanted to see if his rancor could take on a dragon. The rancor lost./
/I gathered that/ Luke replied, catching sight of an enormous pug-nosed skull just behind the reptile.
The Gamorrean squealed again and tried vainly to climb back up the tunnel. Attracted by the thug's movements, the dragon turned to the plump alien with a fascinated gaze. Its neck tensed, it struck with the speed of a crystal snake…
The onlookers cheered as the Gamorrean met his grisly end.
Luke took advantage of the beast's preoccupation to take a Force-boosted leap. He grabbed the grate with both hands and jammed both feet through, hanging on for all he was worth.
"Luke!" Leia cried, reaching over to grab his arm, but Jabba yanked her back savagely.
"Knock him down!" he ordered.
Aurra Sing came to stand over the grate. "Scared of a little lizard, Jedi?" she taunted.
He didn't answer, only searched the grate for a latch or hinges of some kind.
Sing laughed snidely and rammed the butt of her rifle into the grate right over Luke's face. He jerked back involuntarily, lost his grip, and landed right on the dragon's snout.
The dragon gave a squawk of surprise and reached up to claw him off, but Luke rolled forward and down the creature's neck, careful to avoid the bony spines. He dodged the snap of the beast's jaws, leaped to the floor, and charged beneath the dragon's belly.
It must have been a comical sight for the onlookers to watch the terror of Tatooine dance about like a trained Endor pony, snarling madly, trying to get at the Jedi beneath it but never quite reaching him. Luke had to keep moving to ensure his relatively safe position, but at least it kept him out of the dragon's stomach.
/Luke, you're making me very nervous/ Vader told him.
/I'm trying to come up with a workable option!/ Luke replied.
/Hurry! You're fraying my nerves./
At the far end of the room he spotted a switch. Did that control the heavy door that had admitted the beast in the first place? There was only one way to find out.
A skull – probably from a Rodian, judging from the shape – leaped into his hands. Using the Force to ensure his aim, he let it fly toward the switch. The door groaned once, then crashed downward. Luke barely rolled away before the jagged bottom edge of the door slammed into the krayt's shoulders, pinning it to the floor.
The dragon screamed in agony, foreclaws scrabbling in the dust, hindquarters limp and paralyzed. Then its flailing head and neck fell to the floor, and with a snarling sigh it expired. Luke heaved a sigh of his own. Few people ever escaped a krayt alive – he'd just cheated fate yet again.
"No!" howled Jabba, though Luke doubted the Hut had had any true love for his pet. "Bring the Jedi up here! Get Solo and the Wookie! They will all pay for this outrage!"
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Vader felt weak with relief at the sight of his son, dusty but alive and unscathed, being pulled from the krayt's lair. He'd been present when the dragon had battled the rancor and could testify of its brute ferocity. That Luke had actually killed the beast was true proof of his talent in the Force.
"Here, take him, you!" one of the guards growled, thrusting Luke at Vader. "Jabba wants him!"
Vader grabbed Luke's arm and pulled him toward the throne room, keeping up the appearance of one of Jabba's underlings. But he did manage to make eye contact with his son, and the young man nodded in understanding.
"How are ya, kid?" asked Han, eyes blank with the hibernation-induced blindness. A Rodian thug and a Weequay hauled the smuggler roughly before Jabba.
"Same as always," Luke replied.
"That bad, huh?" Han asked. "Where's Leia?"
"I'm here," Leia replied.
Jabba jerked on Leia's chain to silence her, shouting angrily in Huttese.
"The Almighty Jabba has ordered you to be terminated immediately," Threepio translated, his quavering voice robbing the statement of much of its force.
"Good, I hate long waits," Han quipped.
A sly smile crossed Jabba's flabby features, and he spoke a little more.
"He commands that you be thrown to the almighty… ulp… Sarlaac," Threepio gulped – well, he couldn't really gulp, but the sound of fright he made couldn't be called much else.
"Doesn't sound so bad," Han remarked with a shrug.
"In his belly," Threepio went on, "you will find a new definition of pain and suffering as you are… slowly digested over a… thousand years."
"On second thought, I'll pass," Han muttered.
"Take them away!" cried Jabba.
"This'll be the last mistake you ever make!" Luke told the Hutt as Vader escorted him out of the throne room. The crowd pressed eagerly around the captives, delighted to witness the execution they had missed earlier.
/Don't get too cocky, Luke/ Vader warned.
/I'll be fine/ Luke assured him. /You concentrate on getting Leia and Forenze out intact. Lando and I'll see to Chewie and Han, and Artoo'll take care of Threepio./
A mental laugh. /I'm sure he will./
/Hey Father, why are you dressed like…/
/No time for that. I'll explain later./