PART 1: SLAVE
CHAPTER 3: Escape
"I'm a person, and my name is Anakin." —Anakin Skywalker after being called a slave, The Phantom Menace
****
A few days later, Luke finally had a few minutes to talk with Delana.
"All right, little farmboy," she said as she came over to him, "what is it?"
He looked down at his dirty pallet for a second before looking back up at her.
The eager yet hesitant look on his face told her all he needed to know. "So, it's time, huh?" She smiled at him and then glanced quickly around the room, her eyes finally resting on a giggling pair of dancers. "How about we take a walk?" she suggested.
The boy nodded in relief, following Delana out of the slave quarters and through the palace's dark halls. They passed a spider droid and a Weequay before finally stopping before the Great Room of the Enlightened.
Luke looked at the Head Dancer in fear, but she passed calmly into the room, shutting the door once he was inside. A pointy-eared B'omarr monk in brown robes was tending to a few of the many brain jars in the room and turned to look at them.
"We're sorry," Delana said politely, "but we know that the monks in charge of this room have no allegiance with Jabba, and we would like to talk."
The unconcerned monk nodded and then turned back to what he was doing. There was no point in asking him to leave—the brains would understand them and could tell him what they were talking about if they so desired. Truly, however, neither he nor the brains would be interested in their conversation.
Still, Luke couldn't help but speak softly. "I want to escape." He heard something squish, and he shivered.
The redheaded woman nodded. "I know, Luke. I've been thinking about it, and I have an idea." She pulled out a piece of flimsy she'd hidden in her dancer's outfit. "I managed to get a glimpse of the device that disarms the slave transmitters, and I drew an outline of it on this." She handed him the flimsy, and he looked down at it. "It's not a perfect picture, of course, but Darsst knows so little about technology that he won't even know the difference. Just make sure the device is black. Those are buttons," she noted a few places, "and that's a screen." She pointed to a small square. "There's no need to make anything show up on the screen—it's very rare that the disarmer is used, and I don't think they have any slaves that need to be sold right now anyway."
She placed her hands firmly on his shoulders, looking down at him. "In exactly one week, what you will need to do is have Opakwa distract Darsst at 0500 hours by telling him that I am not feeling well—that should give you a little time to build the fake disarmer. I'll be down in the slave quarters giving the best performance of a sick person anyone's ever seen this side of Tatooine." She grinned. "While Darsst is gone, you need to go into his room—or office—or whatever he calls that dank little hole of his—and switch the fake disarmer for the real one. But be really careful, Luke. Not many people are up that early, but you never know who could be poking around."
Luke smiled and leaned forward to hug his friend. "Thank you, Delana."
"You're welcome, my little farmboy." She gently smoothed his hair. "Oh! I almost forgot—on the back of that piece of flimsy is the code to open Darsst's door. I had to give up a meal or two to get it, but you'll be surprised at what some of the spies around this place will do just for a bit of food."
The boy frowned and pulled back. "Delana—"
"Hey, don't worry. I wasn't even hungry that day." She patted his shoulder. "Now, get along to whatever you need to be doing. You'll need to use that free time to work on your disarmer."
****
A week later, Luke's fake disarmer had been built and Opakwa—who knew Luke was regularly beaten and was able to override part of his programming on the basis that sentient creatures were not to be harmed as Luke often was—had been included on the escape plan. Luke hated bringing both Delana and Opakwa into this, as the former might be beaten and the latter deactivated, but they wanted to help him, and he needed their assistance. And so, at 0457, rubbing his tired eyes, Luke was waiting in the shadows near the door to Darsst's room. He was supposed to be cleaning the rancor cage (which was often done early in the morning so that Jabba wouldn't miss any prime opportunities to have his enemies devoured), but—with any luck—he would hopefully never have to do it again.
At precisely 0500, Opakwa was tapping on Darsst's door.
The angry reptilian humanoid opened the door, looking a little bleary-eyed. "What issss it?" he hissed.
"I'm afraid the Head Dancer is quite sick, Master Darsst!" Opakwa exclaimed. "You must come see. If it is contagious, it could spread to the other dancers, and Jabba might become very unhappy!"
The Durnalian said something unintelligible and then stalked forward, Opakwa following him.
Luke, thankful he'd been unnoticed, stepped toward the door and typed in the code. The door opened, and Luke stepped in and swapped the fake disarmer for the real one. Grinning triumphantly, he clutched the real disarmer to his side and turned around. He stepped outside the door only to realize that EV-9D9 was a few steps away and staring right at him.
"Imbecilic slave," the droid groused. "They are foolish to keep you around. Come with me. Your supervisor must be informed of this violation. He will be most displeased to find that you have been putting your unclean human nose where it does not belong."
The boy followed the droid with heavy feet, dreading what was to come next. Along the way, they came across Salacious Crumb in the middle of a corridor.
"Move, you insignificant pest," EV-9D9 ordered.
"Pest...Oh-ho-ho-ho!" he cackled. Then he sprinted toward Luke and grabbed the disarmer from him.
"Crumb!" Luke cried out in reflex. But as he watched Crumb disappear, he realized that maybe this was best—maybe he'd be able to get the device back from Crumb. That is, if the jester didn't completely tear it apart to spite him.
"What was that?" the droid queried suspiciously, staring in the direction that Crumb had disappeared.
"Just a part for a machine I was working on," Luke said in a voice that sounded sad. That must have been sufficient enough for EV-9D9, as she didn't inquire any further.
A few minutes later, they had arrived at the slave quarters. EV-9D9 told him to stay where he was, and she left him in the doorway while she went to talk to the Slave Keeper. He was tending to Delana, but she had seen Luke and was about to finish her act.
Knowing that excuses were useless, Luke simply sat down and waited, his face buried in his hands. He'd been too careless; he should have made sure the halls really were clear. His heart was pounding, and his palms were clammy.
"Worthlessss," a voice eventually hissed from behind him. "Sssstand up."
His body tensing, Luke did as he was told.
"You don't know what a missstake you have made," Darsst growled. He got out his lash. Luke heard a small sympathetic noise from somewhere and thought it came from Delana.
The young boy closed his eyes and thought of the B'omarr monks. They thought the body wasn't important; they tried to find mental enlightenment.
But as Darsst began to whip him, Luke could no longer think of becoming enlightened. Only pain and tears were available to him.
****
"Little farmboy," Delana cooed. She was crouching beside him, trying to get him to look at her.
But Luke, who ached all over, wouldn't move from his pallet. Even the Slave Keeper seemed to realize he'd gone a bit too far with the beating, and he was allowing the boy to be task-free for two days.
It was the second day of his respite from work, and Luke hadn't moved from his pallet except to use a 'fresher.
"What?" the boy asked in a muted voice. He was hungry, but he didn't want to eat. He didn't want to do anything.
"Someone's here for you," she answered lightly.
He still didn't stir, and so with a sigh she went ahead and made a signal to whoever was behind her.
The sound of upbeat music began to fill the slave quarters, and Luke reluctantly began to smile into his dirty sheets. He loved listening to the musicians—he just hated going up to Jabba's audience chamber to hear them. To be able to listen to them without being up among all those criminals was a pleasure he hadn't known he could have. It was a pleasure Delana had brought for him.
"Come on, Luke, you know you like a little music," Delana said warmly, tugging on his arm.
He slowly got to his feet, and Delana took his hand. "Dance with me, farmboy."
She would occasionally teach him a few dances, telling him he was pretty good for a little guy. Now, she did one of the easier ones with him, knowing his back still hurt but also knowing that he needed to stretch his limbs, as he would be back to work the next day.
She hadn't had money with which to bribe the two members of the Sand Surfing on Tatooine band, but they had been kind-hearted, and, after hearing her story, they had agreed to come down and play a little tune to cheer up a young downtrodden slave.
As Delana danced with the boy, she felt his spirits begin to rise, and, as they did so, so did hers. It was then that she decided she would do anything to help this little boy escape. He deserved to be at peace.
****
That night, Luke—feeling much better—snuck around the palace in an attempt to find Crumb. He wasn't at his usual perch beside Jabba, which Luke figured meant he was wreaking mischief somewhere. Sure enough, the boy finally heard a dancer let out a startled shriek. Half a second later came the familiar cackling laughter. Luke ran to the slave quarters to catch Crumb in time, and he managed to trap him in the doorway.
"Eh-heh-heh," laughed the monkey-lizard.
"Crumb, where's that thing you stole from me?" Luke asked.
"Thing you stole," Crumb echoed. "Awww. Eh-heh-heh-heh."
"I have some Kowakian nuts," the boy noted. He'd managed to steal them from the kitchen. Kowakian monkey-lizards loved Kowakian nuts, and Salacious Crumb was given a daily allowance of them in exchange for making Jabba laugh. Monkey-lizards would gorge themselves stupid on them, however, if they were allowed to feast to their heart's content, so the nuts—which no one else in the palace wanted—were kept in a container which Crumb, with his weak arms, could not open—but which little boys could.
"Kowakian nuts," the monkey-lizard repeated thoughtfully. As Luke opened his hand, he eyed them. Then he tried to jump forward and grab them, but Luke snatched away his hands.
"Parts, then nuts," the blue-eyed child said stubbornly.
Crumb stared at him for a few seconds before gesturing for him to follow. Though the creature seemed to be a fool, he was actually quite smart. He took Luke to a hidden nook which was filled with all sorts of odds and ends that had been stolen from denizens of the palace.
Luke snatched the disarmer from the pile and gave the nuts to Crumb, who happily gobbled them up. "Thanks," the boy said sincerely before jogging off to the slave quarters.
Jabba was supposed to be gone the next morning—off to Mos Eisley to take care of a little business, the word was—so Luke had decided to attempt his escape then. The rancor was out on a walk with his keeper, and Luke was supposed to be cleaning the rancor pit—as he had failed to complete that task a few days ago—but he planned to skip the duty entirely. No reason to muck out cages when he could be out in the open air!
As he lay down on his pallet with the disarmer clutched against his chest, he smiled to himself. Soon, he would be leaving this awful place. He wasn't sure where he would be going, but it couldn't be worse than where he was.
He wanted to say goodbye to all of the dancers, but he couldn't. Delana had warned him it was possible Jabba had a few spies among them—it would be best if he just left.
He sighed to himself as he thought of Delana. She knew he was planning to escape with Opakwa the next day and had given him a purple dancer's costume to remember her by—it was one of the rare ones that wasn't made principally from sheer cloth. He thought it was beautiful, and he loved it, but he wished Delana would go with him. Maybe tomorrow he would see her—maybe he could convince her then.
As he contemplated his escape, he remembered that Delana had reminded him that Opakwa still had a restraining bolt on, so he decided he'd hide a tool in the cloth and remove the bolt when he saw the droid. That should work fine...
A few minutes later, he dozed off.
****
The next morning, Luke stood up and pulled out the disarmer with shaky hands. A few button pushes and an on-screen confirmation later, he was free.
He felt like yelling and laughing, but everyone would look at him funny, so he settled for grinning to himself. He grabbed a tool to remove Opakwa's restraining bolt and hid it in the costume Delana had given him. He was walking down the hall toward Jabba's throne room with the cloth in hand when he saw Darsst running at him and yelling, "Sssstop, worthlessss!"
Luke froze for half a second before turning and fleeing—the Durnalian must have been informed that a transmitter had been deactivated (so that's what that little device the Slave Keeper had kept on his hip was).
Fortunately, there was more than one way to get to the throne room.
As he sprinted down the corridors of the palace, he swerved to avoid smacking into a Rodian, slowed to move around a droid, and nearly tripped over something hard lying on the floor.
He continued flying through the halls. Behind him was the constant noise of Darsst's hissing and cursing. Finally, he burst into the throne room.
He ran across the rancor grate and saw Opakwa standing by Jabba's empty throne. Darsst was following a few yards behind Luke and crossed the grate with a malicious growl. Opakwa pulled the lever on the hookah.
At the Durnalian's yell, Luke skidded to a stop and turned around. The Slave Keeper had disappeared into the rancor pit. Everyone quickly crowded around to peer down at him, including Luke, who pushed through.
The boy couldn't help but laugh as he realized the Slave Keeper had fallen into a giant pile of rancor dung.
Darsst spewed several curses before yelling up, "Guards! Do something!" He struggled to get free of the slimy glop. "Get me out of here!"
And that was when everything broke out into chaos.
There was no one on guard below, what with the rancor's absence, so some of the people in the throne room began scrambling to get to Darsst. In the confusion, a blaster went off.
Luke fell to the ground as the firefight started.
None of the bounty hunters or other criminals knew whose weapon went off, and they split into three camps. Laser bolts flew across the room, and Opakwa tried to carefully move closer to Luke.
An orange Dyeud who was high on spice yelled out, "A righteously wicked battle—all right!" He walked over to the corner alcove where Jabba's plethora of trophies were mounted on the wall and applied a flame to a stuffed tauntaun head. "We're on fire, all right!" He sniffed the air. "Man, that is total reekage."
A brown-armored bounty hunter cried out as he got hit in the arm. Furious, he let off several blasts. One of the blasts caught the new and valuable tapestry hanging on the wall on fire, and the Dyeud shouted, "All right! Bring on the heat! Man, this is so wizard!"
By the time Opakwa got to Luke, smoke was already starting to fill the throne room, and it was getting difficult to see. Delana appeared from the direction of the palace's entrance, looking shocked at all the mayhem. "What happened?" she gaped. Then she shook her head. "Never mind. Let's go."
As they quickly walked toward the entrance, she said, "I've already told Opakwa where to go, so stay with him, Luke. You remember Sand Surfing on Tatooine? Their musical gig with Jabba is up—they're being replaced by the Max Rebo Band—and they're leaving Tatooine for some work on the tourist planet Haodis. They've agreed to let you be a passenger on their ship. They just know your name is Luke—they don't know your last name is Skywalker, and they don't know what happened to your aunt and uncle. Luke, don't tell anyone your last name—keep that close to you. Jabba may put out a bounty for you—he doesn't like to be crossed. Stay with the band, or go to a place with foster care. Just don't tell anyone your real name, all right?"
Luke nodded slowly. He understood, but something about the way Delana was talking was making him sad.
Remembering something, she stopped walking and took the dancer's outfit from him. She felt the tool wrapped up in it and took it out, looking relieved to have found it. "The guards are in the throne room now, so I think it's safe to take this off." She bit her lip as she fiddled with Opakwa's restraining bolt and finally got it off his chest. She handed the dancer's costume back to Luke and then frowned. He was crying. "What's wrong, little farmboy?"
"I'm scared," he sniffled, looking intensely at her with his shining blue eyes. "You're—you're coming with us, aren't you?"
She gave him a sweet but sad smile. Gently, she told him, "I can't, little farmboy."
"Why?"
"I need to stay here and help the people like you who come here," she explained gently. "There have been other boys and girls needing guidance, Luke."
"But—"
"I'm sorry." She put her hand under his chin and lifted it. "Don't worry about me, Luke. And don't worry about you—I know you'll make a great new life, all right?"
He nodded, and she took his hand and continued rushing toward the entrance with him and Opakwa.
They finally stood at the entrance, and Delana turned to Luke and Opakwa. "Go. The both of you."
"But—"
"Now." She turned around so that Luke couldn't see the tears gleaming in her eyes.
The boy nodded, clenching the costume in his arms. Then he and Opakwa rushed outside into the bright desert.
If he had been older, he would have refused to leave without her. But he wasn't older; he was just a little boy who did as he was told.
He never saw her again.
****
Author's Note: I'd like to thank Kitt again for helping me rework this chapter. As she noted, it's not a real Skywalker escape unless something's on fire.