Trilogy (43 page)

Han was surprised at the princess's simple tone. He had expected a stinging retort or, at best, a cold silence. But her words were missing the mocking tone that he was accustomed
to hearing. Was she finally bringing their relentless battle of wills to an end? “Sure,” he said gently.

“You make things difficult sometimes,” Leia said as she shyly glanced at him.

He had to agree. “I do, I really do.” But he added, “You could be a little nicer, too. Come on, admit it, sometimes you think I'm all right.”

She let go of the lever and rubbed her sore hand. “Sometimes,” she said with a little smile, “maybe … occasionally, when you aren't acting the scoundrel.”

“Scoundrel?” he laughed, finding her choice of words endearing. “I like the sound of that.”

Without another word, he reached for Leia's hand and began to massage it.

“Stop it,” Leia protested.

Han continued to hold her hand. “Stop what?” he asked softly.

Leia felt flustered, confused, embarrassed—a hundred things in that moment. But her sense of dignity prevailed. “Stop that!” she said regally. “My hands are dirty.”

Han smiled at her feeble excuse, but held on to her hand and looked right into her eyes. “My hands are dirty, too. What are you afraid of?”

“Afraid?” She returned his direct gaze. “Of getting my hands dirty.”

“That's why you're trembling?” he asked. He could see that she was affected by his closeness and by his touch, and her expression softened. Whereupon he reached out and took her other hand.

“I think you like me
because
I'm a scoundrel,” he said. “I think you haven't had
enough
scoundrels in your life.” As he spoke he slowly drew her near.

Leia didn't resist his gentle pull. Now, as she looked at him, she thought he had never seemed more handsome, but she was still the princess. “I happen to
like
nice men,” she chided in a whisper.

“And I'm not nice?” Han asked, teasing.

Chewbacca stuck his head out from the overhead compartment and watched the proceedings unnoticed.

“Yes,” she whispered, “but you …”

Before she could finish, Han Solo drew her to him and felt her body tremble as he pressed his lips to hers. It seemed forever, it seemed an eternity to share between them, as he gently bent her body back. This time she didn't resist at all.

When they parted, Leia needed a moment to catch her breath. She tried to regain her composure and work up a measure of indignation, but she found it difficult to talk.

“Okay, hot shot,” she began. “I—”

But then she stopped, and suddenly found herself kissing him, pulling him even closer than before.

When their lips finally parted, Han held Leia in his arms as they looked at each other. For a long moment there was a peaceful kind of emotion between them. Then Leia began to draw away, her thoughts and feelings a turmoil. She averted her eyes and began to disengage herself from Han's embrace. In the next second she turned and rushed from the cabin.

Han silently looked after her as she left the room. He then became acutely aware of the very curious Wookiee whose head was poking from the ceiling.

“Okay, Chewie!” he bellowed. “Give me a hand with this valve.”

* * *

T
he fog, dispersed by a torrent of rain, snaked around the swamp in diaphanous swirls. Scooting along amid the pounding rain was a single R2 droid looking for his master.

Artoo-Detoo's sensing devices were busily sending impulses to his electronic nerve ends. At the slightest sound, his auditory systems reacted—perhaps overreacted—and sent information to the robot's nervous computer brain.

It was too wet for Artoo in this murky jungle. He aimed his optical sensors in the direction of a strange little mud house on the edge of a dark lake. The robot, overtaken by an almost-human perception of loneliness, moved closer to the window of the tiny abode. Artoo extended his utility feet toward the window and peeked inside. He hoped no one inside noticed the slight shiver of his barrel-shaped form or heard his nervous little electronic whimper.

Somehow Luke Skywalker managed to squeeze inside the miniature house, where everything within was perfectly scaled to its tiny resident. Luke sat cross-legged on the dried mud floor in the living room, careful not to bang his skull against the low ceiling. There was a table in front of him and he could see a few containers holding what appeared to be hand-written scrolls.

The wrinkle-faced creature was in his kitchen, next to the living room, busily concocting an incredible meal. From where Luke sat he could see the little cook stirring steaming pots, chopping this, shredding that, scattering herbs over all, and scurrying back and forth to put platters on the table in front of the youth.

Fascinated as he was by this bustling activity, Luke was
growing very impatient. As the creature made one of his frantic runs into the living room area, Luke reminded his host, “I told you, I'm not hungry.”

“Patience,” the creature said, as he scuttled back into the steamy kitchen. “It's time to eat.”

Luke tried to be polite. “Look,” he said, “it smells good. I'm sure it's delicious. But I don't know why we can't see Yoda now.”

“It's the Jedi's time to eat, too,” the creature answered.

But Luke was eager to be on his way. “Will it take long to get there? How far is he?”

“Not far, not far. Be patient. Soon you will see him. Why wish you become a Jedi?”

“Because of my father, I guess,” Luke answered, as he reflected that he never really knew his father that well. In truth his deepest kinship with his father was through the lightsaber Ben had entrusted to him.

Luke noticed the curious look in the creature's eyes as he mentioned his father. “Oh, your father,” the being said, sitting down to begin his vast meal. “A powerful Jedi was he. Powerful Jedi.”

The youth wondered if the creature were mocking him. “How could you know my father?” he asked a little angrily. “You don't even know who I am.” He glanced around at the bizarre room and shook his head. “I don't know what I'm doing here …”

Then he noticed that the creature had turned away from him and was talking to a corner of the room. This really is the final straw, Luke thought. Now this impossible creature is talking to thin air!

“No good is this,” the creature was saying irritably. “This will not do. I cannot teach him. The boy has no patience!”

Luke's head spun in the direction the creature was facing.
Cannot teach. No patience
. Bewildered, he still saw no one there. Then the truth of the situation gradually became as plain to him as the deep lines on the little creature's face. Already he was being tested—and by none other than Yoda himself!

From the empty corner of the room, Luke heard the gentle, wise voice of Ben Kenobi responding to Yoda. “He will learn patience,” Ben said.

“Much anger in him,” the dwarfish Jedi teacher persisted. “Like in his father.”

“We've discussed this before,” Kenobi said.

Luke could no longer wait. “I
can
be a Jedi,” he interrupted. It meant more than anything else to him to become a part of the noble band that had championed the causes of justice and peace. “I'm ready, Ben … Ben …” The youth called to his invisible mentor, looking about the room in hopes of finding him. But all he saw was Yoda sitting across from him at the table.

“Ready are you?” the skeptical Yoda asked. “What know you of ready? I have trained Jedi for eight hundred years. My own counsel I'll keep on who is to be trained.”

“Why not me?” Luke asked, insulted by Yoda's insinuation.

“To become a Jedi,” Yoda said gravely, “takes the deepest commitment, the most serious mind.”

“He can do it,” Ben's voice said in defense of the youth.

Looking toward the invisible Kenobi, Yoda pointed at Luke. “This one I have watched a long time. All his life has he looked away … to the horizon, to the sky, to the future. Never his mind on where he was, on what he was
doing. Adventure, excitement.” Yoda shot a glaring look at Luke. “A Jedi craves not these things!”

Luke tried to defend his past. “I have followed my feelings.”

“You are reckless!” the Jedi Master shouted.

“He will learn,” came the soothing voice of Kenobi.

“He's too old,” Yoda argued. “Yes. Too old, too set in his ways to start the training.”

Luke thought he heard a subtle softening in Yoda's voice. Perhaps there was still a chance to sway him. “I've learned much,” Luke said. He couldn't give up now. He had come too far, endured too much,
lost
too much for that.

Yoda seemed to look right through Luke as he spoke those words, as if trying to determine how much he
had
learned. He turned to the invisible Kenobi again. “Will he finish what he begins?” Yoda asked.

“We've come this far,” was the answer. “He is our only hope.”

“I will not fail you,” Luke said to both Yoda and Ben. “I'm not afraid.” And, indeed, at that moment, the young Skywalker felt he could face anyone without fear.

But Yoda was not so optimistic. “You will be, my young one,” he warned. The Jedi Master turned slowly to face Luke as a strange little smile appeared on his blue face. “Heh. You will be.”

IX

O
NLY ONE BEING IN THE ENTIRE
universe could instill fear in the dark spirit of Darth Vader. As he stood, silent and alone in his dim chamber, the Dark Lord of the Sith waited for a visit from his own dreaded master.

As he waited, his Imperial Star Destroyer floated through a vast ocean of stars. No one on his ship would have dared disturb Darth Vader in his private cubicle. But if they had, they might have detected a slight trembling in that black-cloaked frame. And there might even have been a hint of terror to be seen upon his visage, had anyone been able to see through his concealing black breath mask.

But no one approached, and Vader remained motionless as he kept his lonely, patient vigil. Soon a strange electronic whine broke the dead silence of the room and a flickering light began to glimmer on the Dark Lord's cloak. Vader immediately bowed deeply in homage to his royal master.

The visitor arrived in the form of a hologram that materialized before Vader and towered above him. The three-dimensional figure was clad in simple robes and its face was concealed behind an enormous hood.

When the hologram of the Galactic Emperor finally spoke, it did so with a voice even deeper than Vader's. The Emperor's presence was awesome enough, but the sound of his voice sent a thrill of terror coursing through Vader's powerful frame. “You may rise, my servant,” the Emperor commanded.

Immediately Vader straightened up. But he did not dare gaze into his master's face, and instead cast his eyes down at his own black boots.

“What is thy bidding, my master?” Vader asked with all the solemnity of a priest attending his god.

“There is a grave disturbance in the Force,” the Emperor said.

“I have felt it,” the Dark Lord replied solemnly.

The Emperor emphasized the danger as he continued. “Our situation is most precarious. We have a new enemy who could bring about our destruction.”

“Our destruction? Who?”

“The son of Skywalker. You must destroy him, or he will be our undoing.”

Skywalker!

The thought was impossible. How could the Emperor be concerned with this insignificant youth?

“He's not a Jedi,” Vader reasoned. “He's just a boy. Obi-Wan could not have taught him so much that—”

The Emperor broke in. “The Force is strong in him,” he insisted. “He must be destroyed.”

The Dark Lord reflected a moment. Perhaps there was another way to deal with the boy, a way that might benefit
the Imperial cause. “If he could be turned, he would be a powerful ally,” Vader suggested.

Silently the Emperor considered the possibility.

After a moment, he spoke again. “Yes … yes,” he said thoughtfully. “He would be a great asset. Can it be done?”

For the first time in their meeting, Vader lifted his head to face his master directly. “He will join us,” he answered firmly, “or die, my master.”

With that, the encounter had come to an end. Vader kneeled before the Galactic Emperor, who passed his hand over his obedient servant. In the next moment, the holographic image had completely disappeared, leaving Darth Vader alone to formulate what would be, perhaps, his most subtle plan of attack.

T
he indicator lights on the control panel cast an eerie glow through the quiet cockpit of the
Millennium Falcon
. They softly lit Princess Leia's face as she sat in the pilot's chair, thinking about Han. Deep in thought, she ran her hand along the control panel in front of her. She knew something was churning up within her, but wasn't certain that she was willing to acknowledge it. And yet, could she deny it?