Chapter 2

Mara Jade stalked purposefully through the halls of Jabba's palace, seething at the stupidity of a certain Jedi, not to mention the ineptitude of Jabba and his minions in general. Not only had the Jedi allowed himself to be caught unawares and dropped into the rancor pit (how gullible could you be?) but he had also managed to kill the beast and save himself. Even now, nearly thirty minutes after the event had occurred, she was unable to decide whether he had simply been lucky, or incredibly resourceful and skilled. Had he expertly maneuvered the Hutt into this grand, showy execution Jabba favored so much? Mara felt no small measure of trepidation at the thought.

Face it, she told herself angrily. You underestimated him and didn't plan for the mission properly. You trusted the Hutt to do your job for you and now you may end up paying for it.

The thought of failure and facing the Emperor made her stomach clench. She was under no illusions as to how an encounter with her Master would go after a failed mision – especially one of this importance. It was an experience she had never had and hoped could be postponed indefinitely. He would not be pleased…

It was time for her to act, to take control and devote the seriousness and attention to the mission it deserved; she only hoped it would not be too late. She had a renewed purpose – she knew that however it had happened, Skywalker had contrived to take Jabba out of his palace and separate him from the bulk of his thugs. She knew that a fully trained Jedi would be more than a match for the gangster and his forces aboard the sail barge and that she would have to take an active hand in destroying him. The fact that there was no one left to train him was now irrelevant; somehow Skywalker had managed to train himself and was now a dangerous adversary, one to be taken seriously and dispatched of with every ounce of skill she possessed.

Schooling her features carefully, Mara walked into the Dancer's Pit – its name ironic due to its location and setting – looking for the current entertainment manager. The room was a bustle of dancers all scurrying around, many preparing to depart with the sail barge – at least, those who had been chosen to accompany the great slug. The rest were seated here and there, some looking on resentfully at those chosen to go, the majority looking more relieved than anything.

Spying the woman, Mara assumed her most convincing air of deference. "Mistress Carniss, please, I would like to be included in the troupe which accompanies the great Jabba on the sail barge."

The director glanced at Mara and her face twisted into a disdainful sneer. "You?" she demanded. "You are new and definitely not one of Jabba's favorites. He would be most displeased if I was to allow one such as you on the sail barge."

Mara's eyes narrowed as fury filled her – how dare this oafish woman deny her? She reached out with her senses and applied the Force to the woman. "I will accompany you on the sail barge – Jabba was most pleased with my performance."

The woman's eyes glassed over, as she repeated Mara's words. Mara realized she had applied a little more persuasion than necessary in her fit of pique, her hold on the woman so complete she would act as little more than a mindless automaton. "You will go and make the arrangements," she continued easing up on the pressure, willing the woman's mind to return to a normal state.

"I will go and make the arrangements," the woman repeated, turning and walking from the room, her gait stiff.

Mara glanced surreptitiously around, hoping no one else had noticed the exchange; she need not have worried – most of the dancers had through experience not to be too interested in anything outside their own little sphere. Hopefully, in the excitement, no one would notice if the woman acted strangely; it would be enough as long as she got Mara on that sail barge. Once on the barge, she could ensure Skywalker was dealt with and her mission fulfilled.

Her smile became feral – Skywalker would never know what hit him.


"I think my eyes are getting better," Han Solo remarked as the skiff glided gracefully over the sands of Tatooine. "Instead of a big dark blur, I see a big light blur."

Luke smiled at Han's irreverent tone. "There isn't really anything to see. I used to live here, you know."

"You're gonna die here, you know," Han shot back. "Convenient, don't you think?"

"Don't be too certain of that," Luke responded mildly. "Just stick close to Chewie and Lando, we've taken care of everything."

"Great," Han muttered with a grimace, his gaze once again settling on the surrounding landscape, his eyes squinting, searching for detail.

Luke smiled and turned his eyes once more toward the Dune Sea. Han was a fierce and loyal friend, but he had no belief in or understanding of the Force, preferring to trust only in what he could see and touch. Luke knew that he had learned perspective and patience – taken many steps into that larger world Ben had once promised him. He trusted in the Force and knew it would carry him through this situation. And while Luke knew they were not out of the woods yet, he also knew they had made an important move on the dejarik board – they had inched closer to their final escape from the clutches of the vile gangster. It had now become a process which Luke knew Jabba was not likely to survive.

Luke considered what he had learned in the throne room. There was absolutely no dealing with the nefarious Hutt – although Luke intended to give the gangster one more opportunity to free them without a confrontation, he knew Jabba was too set in his evil ways. Luke felt a grim satisfaction at the prospect of ridding the galaxy of the Hutt – he was a leech and the galaxy could only be a better place with the gangster put out of business permanently.

He had also learned to pay better attention to his surroundings. Being dropped into the rancor pit had certainly not been part of his plan and although it had turned out well in the end, he knew he could ill afford to be caught unaware. His danger sense should have warned him, but he knew he was still green in the use of the Force and would take some time to develop. Of course, he had been slightly distracted…

As always, his attention was diverted again to the presence on the massive sail barge, one he had been constantly aware of since sensing her outside the throne room. He turned his head, his eyes unerringly drawn to the spot near the top of the barge, his eyes catching a glint of red hair and a diaphanous blue costume. She had never really been far from his thoughts since he had first sensed her and he found himself once again pondering the mystery of her appearance. Who was she? What was she doing here? Was her presence a coincidence or was there something else behind it?

He had no answers. He had even briefly tried immersing himself in the Force again once they had been hustled on to the skiff, but other than that one fleeting, tantalizing vision, the Force had remained stubbornly silent. One thing he was certain of – somehow he knew their fates were bound to one another. He would be seeing more of this mystery woman.


Mara watched the skiff carrying Skywalker, focusing on the Jedi, willing him to give up his secrets and divulge his plans. The man remained an enigma to her, his mental shields were impressive – worthy of her master's instruction. However he had managed to learn so much about the Force, she could not help but admire his power and competence. A pity his remaining life was to be measured in mere minutes.

She was in position, situated near the top level in the bow of the sail barge, ready to intervene if Jabba's plans did not come to fruition. Escape from the dancing troupe had been accomplished with an almost laughable ease – as the dance manager had not even wanted her here in the first place, she had easily convinced the woman to forget about her, freeing her to move about the barge as she wished.

But even though she knew she had done what she could to prepare for the confrontation, something nagged at her consciousness – something she could not figure out. It was as if she were missing something, overlooking a fact so obvious that it should have screamed out to her in its blatancy. Whatever it was, however, she could not put her finger on it.

He must be cooking in those black clothes, she thought absentmindedly. Even with the skimpy costume and the air rushing past the barge, she could still feel the heat.

Hearing a commotion behind her, Mara watched as Skywalker's golden protocol droid spoke with a small blue astromech. Her eyes narrowed as the memory of the two droids arriving in Jabba's throne room stole over her. They had played a message to the Hutt who had laughed it off, then had been escorted away from the chamber to be fitted with restraining bolts. The protocol droid was easy – she had seen him many times since then and had even spoken with him briefly. The astromech was the question. She had not seen his astromech since the day they had arrived, but she could swear that the astromech before her now was the very one which had arrived with the protocol droid.

She watched as they finished whatever they were saying and moved off in separate directions, then turned her attention back toward the skiff and the black clad figure. They were all here; Organa chained to Jabba's throne, Skywalker, Solo and the Wookiee on the skiff and the droids on the sail barge. The reason for the protocol droid's presence was evident, but why was the astromech here? She gazed down at the Jedi, watching as he looked up toward where she stood – he had obviously felt the same connection to her as she had felt to him and could pinpoint her through the Force. She herself was constantly aware of him, his presence a soothing balm on her soul – a fact which troubled her. She knew she should feel something – anything – negative toward him. If she could not hate him, she should at least be angry with him for defying her master's will and bringing chaos to the galaxy. But even that eluded her. He held a great conviction in his cause, that much was apparent, and try as she might, she could not find fault with someone who remained true to his conscience.

Mara shied away from that train of thought. The Emperor, she knew, cared nothing for her opinions and thoughts, merely demanding her complete loyalty. However, there was a limit to how much he would tolerate and she knew if he was ever aware of the meandering thoughts running through her mind, she would be punished with a bout of his lightning at the very least. At worst, he may decide she was no longer of any use to him. She turned her attention back to the mission and Skywalker. There was still something missing. Skywalker had waltzed into Jabba's palace, confident and assured he would be able to walk out again… What sane man would walk into a heavily guarded fortress and take on its inhabitants weaponless and completely outnumbered? Weaponless…

Suddenly she knew – Skywalker was not wearing his lightsaber!

Mara felt a moment of panic as she considered this revelation. The Jedi was not stupid; he would not give himself up to the dubious mercy of the Hutt without the benefit of his weapon. But if he did not have it – and she was certain he did not, as he had been thoroughly searched when taken out of the rancor pit – then who did?

Organa's costume was such that it would be impossible for her to conceal such a weapon and Solo had been a wall decoration not long ago. The Wookiee? She dismissed the though as soon as it popped into her mind. It could have been the Wookiee, but the risk of him being searched when he was escorted to his cell was simply too great. That left…

Mara turned sharply, her eyes peering intently through the gloom of the barge's interior, searching for the two droids she had seen earlier, but they were both out of sight. One of them must have the lightsaber. It would not be the protocol droid – not only did it not have the necessary means to get the weapon to Skywalker when he needed it, but it was also flighty and could not be relied with something of this importance.

That left the astromech – the one of the party which no one would ever think to search. It likely had chambers in its dome which could house a weapon and likely even a way to make certain the Jedi received it when it was needed.

Knowing there was no time to lose, Mara rushed back through the sail barge, searching for the astromech. All she would have to do would be to remove him from the barge and her mission would be complete – without his lightsaber, Skywalker would not be able to block blaster bolts and even if he did try to escape, they would be able to cut him down from the barge.

She searched for several moments, but it was ultimately in vain. The Sarlacc pit was only moments away and she did not have the time it would take to locate the droid. But as the droid was on the sail barge and the Jedi out on the skiff, Mara knew the only way for the weapon to reach him was for the droid to launch it through the air. The only question was when.

Abruptly she came to a decision and ran toward the stairs, intent on reaching the top deck. If she was to prevent his lightsaber from reaching him, she would need to be in position to intercept it with the Force – she need simply ensure his weapon never reached him.


The skiff began to slow as they reached their destination. A quick glance down told Luke all he needed to know – the pit was shallow and not steep, but at the bottom, nestled in amongst the dunes, was a great open maw, three full rows of long, sharp teeth set in a pink, mucus filled opening. The creature must be immense underneath the sand.

Luke glanced quickly around, catching Lando's eye as he stood to the side next to Chewie, the man's eyes flickered toward Luke before once again resuming his straightforward gaze. Across the pit, the great sail barge slowed and stopped, its ponderous bulk floating above the sands on the other side of the pit from the skiff, affording its occupants a clear, unobstructed view of the coming execution. Luke almost pitied them – scum to the last, without mercy and any shred of common decency, they gloried in the misfortune and pain of others.

This will be a good day, Luke thought to himself, once again feeling the satisfaction of the removal of one of the most reprehensible beings from the galaxy. The people of Tatooine, and indeed the entire quadrant, would sleep more securely tonight, even though they would not yet know a major threat to their peace and security had been removed.

As the skiff came to a halt, one of the Weequay guards grabbed Luke's shoulder and held him, while the other quickly cut his bonds. Feeling the circulation rush back into his hand, Luke rubbed his real hand with the prosthetic, oddly grateful in that instant that his right hand could not have its circulation interrupted.

Not the smartest move, Luke thought to himself sardonically as they roughly pushed him out onto the plank, which had been extended for the occasion. Obviously, this was not the first time Jabba had fed the Sarlacc.

"Victims of the almighty Sarlacc," Threepio's voice rang out over the dunes, "The great Jabba hopes that you will die honorably. But if any of you should wish to beg for mercy, the great Jabba will now hear your pleas."

Howls of laughter erupted with Jabba's deep evil chuckling ringing out over the din.

"Threepio," Han shouted, incensed. "You tell that slimy piece of worm-ridden filth, he'll get no such pleasure from us." Han looked around at his companions. "Right?"

Luke grinned back at the smuggler – it was good to have his friend back.

"Jabba, this is your last chance," he warned, turning his attention back to the gangster, "free us, or die."

As expected, the Hutt's booming chuckle once again echoed across the dunes. "I'm sure it is young Jedi. Put him in!"

A sharp jab at his back caused Luke to involuntarily step forward. Glancing behind him, he once again caught Lando's eye, acknowledging the slight nod with one of his own. Luke looked up at the sail barge and catching a glimpse of a silver dome glinting in the sunlight, flipped a salute to the droid.

Knowing the timing would have to be perfect, Luke strode out to the edge of the plank, looking down at the repulsive maw waiting below. He sensed, rather than saw, the guard moving cautiously in behind him, his pike extended towards Luke's unprotected back, ready to push the Jedi into the pit.

Luke waited until the guard was almost in range. Then in one fluid motion, he stepped off the platform, twisted in mid-air and caught the edge with his fingertips. The platform flexed and groaned, the metal old and ill used to the stress, before springing back into place, vaulting the Jedi up into the air.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl for Luke as he soared through the air. Everything was open to his gaze – the sail barge as it floated, glinting in the sun, the skiff with its guards, the guard on the plank, his face painted with an almost comic look of surprise, and the lightsaber, arcing through the air toward his landing spot at the base of the plank.

Unexpectedly, Luke felt a warning of danger screaming though the Force and he locked his attention on the spinning silver cylinder. Luke reached out and yanked his lightsaber toward him, grunting with a momentary pain at the force of the impact of the weapon with his hand, and landed on the platform, behind the stunned Weequay guard. Thumbing the switch, Luke ignited the saber and putting the warning through the Force out of his mind for the moment, began laying waste to the assorted guards on the platform.


Mara screamed in frustration as the lightsaber was pulled out of her grasp an instant before she had locked on to it. Somehow the Jedi had known, had anticipated her move and had countered it with superb effect.

She watched helplessly as he ignited the blade and began to wreak his vengeance on the hapless guards of the skiff. Her eyes caught another development and she watched as one of the guards on the skiff began to grapple with one of the others, joining Skywalker's side. Mara gaped at this event, her eyes becoming even more steely and hard. Skywalker had planned this more carefully than she had thought, spending several months setting this up, even inserting one of his own into the gangster's palace. Organa likely would have been a second mole if she had not abandoned the plan, something Mara was now convinced she had. The whole situation had suddenly become much more complicated.

Not far from her location on the barge, Boba Fett the bounty hunter launched himself into the air with the aid of his rocket pack to join the melee below, only to have his blaster immediately slashed in half by the Jedi's deadly weapon. She witnessed his attempt to capture the Jedi with his cable, and subsequent wild ride as his rocket was ignited accidentally by a flailing Solo.

Good riddance, she snarled, as he bounced off the side of the sail barge and tumbled down into the belly of the Sarlacc. Fett had spied her early on in her time in Jabba's palace and had been dogged in his pursuit of her, confident in his arrogance of his right to anything he desired. The man had been a pig.

Her gaze crept back to the Jedi and she was immediately captivated. He had dispatched the guards in the first skiff and was now racing toward the second which had moved in to engage the escaping prisoners. Mara watched as he launched himself into the air, flipped and landed on the bow of the second skiff, his lightsaber a blur of emerald as he blocked blaster bolts and attacked Jabba's thugs. She had never seen such pure grace and raw power in action – he was totally in tune with the Force, immersed in the moment and rapidly decimating Jabba's forces.

Below her current position Mara listened to the angry bellowing of the enraged Hutt and remembered the princess still chained to the throne.

There's more than one way to remove a pest, she thought to herself, removing her hold-out blaster from its holster, comforted by its reassuring weight in her hand. With Organa and his precious droids still on the sail barge, she knew he would have to make his way to the barge to confront the Hutt. When he did, she would be ready for him.


Luke had never felt like this. His lightsaber – his lightsaber and not his father's – felt like an extension, a natural augmentation to his hand. As he waded through the guards of the escort skiff, he felt an excitement well up in him, different from the euphoria he had experienced in other battles in other times. This weapon was his, was forged for him and his unique style and needs. This was truly the weapon of a Jedi.

His thoughts flittered about in a jumble as he battled, of his duty to fight for the freedom of the oppressed and helpless, for the lives of himself and his companions. He was doing what he had been born to do and the lightsaber of his own design and creation was his judge and jury, the executor of his will. Master Yoda always said the Jedi did not desire adventure, but Luke knew that this Jedi would never shirk away from danger and even adventure. He was not content to sit back and watch from obscurity – he wanted to right wrongs and punish evil. He wanted justice.

When the last guard on the skiff fell, Luke sized up the situation. Lando had fallen over the side of the skiff and was now lying prone on the slope of the pit, Han and Chewie reaching out to try and help him back into its dubious safety. Of greater concern, however, were the deck guns on the massive barge which had been manned and begun firing on the unprotected skiff. Knowing the thugs still on the barge were the greater threat, he clipped his lightsaber to his belt and leapt over to the side of the great hulk, beginning to climb up the side to the top deck, where he could silence the guns.


Mara glanced out from her place of concealment, her eyes trained for any sign of the Jedi. The deck was a roiling mass of chaos as Jabba's minions ran to and fro, adding to the confusion of the Jedi's assault. She could no longer hear the roaring of the barge's master – she did not think Skywalker had reached Jabba to silence him, but silenced he was. Mara steadied her breathing and emptied her thoughts, concentrating on the approaching Jedi.

He had reached the top deck of the barge and was even now fighting his way through Jabba's minions toward her location. Again Mara was struck by his shining Force presence. She could feel it flowing through him, guiding his movements, granting him insight and the strength to overcome. He was truly using it in a manner which she had never witnessed before.

Through the crates she was hidden behind, she could see a stain of black approaching. Skywalker had arrived and was now attacking the deck guns threatening the listing skiff and his friends who occupied it. Behind him she witnessed the arrival of the princess along with the two droids – somehow she had managed to free herself from Jabba's clutches, likely meaning the gangster was dead.

Brushing the thought of the likely defunct Jabba from her mind, Mara concentrated on the Jedi, who was steadily nearing her position. Knowing she would only have one chance to end this, Mara monitored his approach, calculating the best time to make her move. His features became more distinct the closer he moved toward her, allowing her a much clearer view of his pleasant face, sandy-blond hair and vivid blue eyes. His lightsaber moved in arcs, deflecting deadly blaster fire, back at their originators for the most part, his fluid motions and lethal skills almost causing her to lose her nerve.

Abruptly, she saw it. No more than twenty meters from her position he turned in the opposite direction to meet a new group of thugs who had come charging up the stairs in his direction.

Now I have you, she thought as she aimed her weapon; a grim satisfaction crept over her features as her finger moved over the trigger.