The Jedi Academy Trilogy_ Jedi Search Part 19

"Improper response," the gruff voice snapped.

"What a surprise," Han mumbled.

The transmission continued. "You have obviously not been sent by Grand Moff Tarkin. Shuttle Endor, you are to be taken prisoner immediately and brought aboard Imperial Star Destroyer Gorgon for deep interrogation. Any attempt at escape or resistance will result in your being destroyed."

Han wondered if he should bother to acknowledge, then decided against it. He was puzzled by the mention of Grand Moff Tarkin, the brutal governor who had built the first Death Star. Tarkin had been destroyed along with his doomsday weapon ten years before. Could these people have been out of touch for that long?

The shuttle lurched as if a giant invisible hand had grabbed it.

Han could hear the metal plates groaning as pressure constricted the outer hull. "It's a tractor beam," he said.

The giant arrowhead shape of the flags.h.i.+p Star Destroyer loomed up at them. Chewbacca groaned something, and Han agreed. He had had a feeling about this, too.

"Don't even bother, Chewie. We could never break that tractor beam, we could never run out of here fast enough, and we could never survive another pa.s.sage through the Maw."

A squadron of TIE fighters surrounded the hijacked shuttle like a coc.o.o.n, making it impossible for them to deviate from the direct path of the tractor beam. The Star Destroyer Gorgon opened its huge receiving bay to swallow the prisoners. TIE fighters streaked up and into the cavernous metal mouth.

Han remembered being taken captive aboard the first Death Star in much the same way, flanked by Imperial starfighters, fighting against a powerful tractor beam. But that time he had been flying his own s.h.i.+p, and they had been able to hide in the Falcon's secret storage compartments.

Now they didn't even have uniforms to steal; they wore only the thermal prison suits used for working in the spice mines of Kessel.

"We're not going to make a very good impression," Kyp said.

The four Star Destroyers hovered over a cl.u.s.ter of interconnected rocky bodies at the very center of the Maw. Other constructions and skeletal debris...o...b..ted low to the asteroid archipelago.

Han wondered again what all this was. A staging area? A secret base? Why would the Empire have squandered so much firepower to protect the little clump of rocks below?

The tractor beam lifted the shuttle into the Gorgon's bay and hauled it over to an isolated landing area. As the shuttle came to rest, Han heard faint groaning and ticking sounds, like a chorus of mechanical sighs of relief from the battered s.h.i.+p. Armed stormtroopers hustled into position, running in regimented columns that showed they were still well drilled, still highly trained. They carried old-model blasters held at the ready.

"We'd better see what they want," Han said. "Any bright ideas?"

"Only dim ones," Kyp answered with a shake of his dark head.

Han sighed in resignation. "Let's go out together. Hands up and move very slowly."

Chewbacca grumbled that he had no particular aversion to dying while fighting, if they were going to be executed anyway.

"We don't know that," Han said. "Let's go."

Chewbacca, the most intimidating, took the central position while Han and the smaller form of Kyp Durron flanked him. They walked out and surrendered. The stormtroopers instantly directed their weapons toward the three. Han wondered how he could have earned himself such an unrelenting streak of bad luck.

At a signal for attention the back ranks of stormtroopers snapped erect, shouldering their weapons, while the front ranks held unwavering aim at the prisoners. Han watched as doors at the rear of the landing bay slid open and a tall woman strode through, accompanied by a bodyguard on each side.

She had a slender build and precise movements. She wore an olive-gray jumpsuit and black gloves. She marched forward, paying little attention to those around her, as if the troops were mere fixtures. She fastened her gaze on the prisoners.

Her most striking feature was a full head of hair that billowed around her shoulders and disappeared to some unknown length down her back. Her hair was the color of hot copper and seemed to crackle with an electric life of its own. Her eyes were green and piercing, like turbolaser bolts. She walked straight toward them. Han saw the insignia at her collar and was taken aback to recognize the rank of a full admiral.

Han had attended the Imperial academy himself when he was young and knew that a woman reaching the rank of admiral was unheard of. Emperor Palpatine had had a well-known prejudice against nonhumans, but he sustained more subtle discrimination against women, rarely promoting even those who pa.s.sed the rigorous tests. For this woman to have the rank of full admiral--especially of a small fleet of Imperial-cla.s.s Star Destroyers--was remarkable. Han put himself immediately on guard; this was no person to be trifled with.

She stopped at the foot of the ramp and looked stiffly up at them.

Her features were as finely carved and as cold and rigid as a statue's.

Her lips barely moved as she spoke.

"I am Admiral Daala, in charge of the fleet guarding Maw Installation." She flashed her green glance to each of them in turn. "You three are in a lot of trouble."

Luke and Artoo had little to do as Lando Calrissian piloted the Lady Luck toward Kessel. A nebulous haze of escaping atmosphere surrounded the potato-shaped rock, while the jagged garrison moon rode in its close orbit.

"Welcome to the garden spot of the galaxy," Lando said.

Luke thought of his home planet of Tatooine, the Dune Sea, the Great Pit of Carkoon, the Jundland Wastes. "I've seen worse," he said.

Artoo bleeped in agreement.

Lando leaned closer to the viewports. "Yeah, well don't make any hasty judgments. We haven't looked at this place up close yet." He opened a comm channel. If Kessel had a good tracking network, the station should have pinpointed the Lady Luck the moment they came out of hypers.p.a.ce.

"h.e.l.lo, Kessel! Is anybody listening? I'm looking for someone named Moruth Doole. I've got a business proposition for him. Please respond."

"Who is this?" a startled-sounding voice broke in. "Identify yourself."

"Name's Tymmo, and if you want any other information, have Doole ask me himself." Lando grinned at Luke. They thought using the fake name of the scam artist from the blob races added another bit of irony to their mission. "In the meantime my a.s.sociate and I have some money to dispose of--half a million credits, to be exact-so run along and fetch Doole."

The speaker remained silent, evidently while the communications officer conferred with someone; then the answer came back. "We're transmitting parameters for a holding orbit, Mr., uh, Tymmo. Follow these instructions precisely. Our energy s.h.i.+eld is currently operational and will disintegrate you if you make an unauthorized attempt to land. Do you understand?"

Luke looked at Lando, and they both shrugged. Lando spoke into the comm channel, "We'll wait right here for Doole to roll out the welcome mat. But if he takes too long, I'll go spend my cash somewhere else." He laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back in the pilot's chair.

Below, Kessel filled the viewports. It was Lando's job to fast-talk them into places, while Luke would keep his eyes and Jedi senses open for any trace of Han.

Before leaving Coruscant they had doctored up false personal backgrounds for themselves, removing any mention of the New Republic but keeping enough hints at shady dealings and fast transactions to provide corroborating evidence. Luke would remain nameless, if at all possible.

A raspy voice finally burst out of the speakers. "Mr. Tymmo? This is Moruth Doole. Do I know you?"

"Not at the moment ... but I've got a large and liquid credit account that says you might want to."

They heard a bubbling intake of breath. "And what might that mean?

My communications officer said something about half a million credits?"

"I recently hit it big at the Umgullian blob races. I'm looking for a place to invest the credits, and I've always thought there was money to be made in spice mining. You willing to talk?"

Doole barely paused. "Half a million credits is certainly worth talking about. I'll send a flyer escort for you. They'll take you through a safe corridor in the energy s.h.i.+eld."

"I look forward to meeting you face-to-face," Lando said.

Doole only made a hissing, froglike sound.

Lando left the Lady Luck on the landing pad of the Imperial Correction Facility, surrounded by scout vehicles, ground transports, and other s.h.i.+ps that had been cannibalized for functional parts. He stood dressed in finery, smiling and bright-eyed. Beside him Luke wore a nondescript jumpsuit from which all insignia had been removed.

A squad dressed in hodgepodge stormtrooper armor and prison uniforms led Luke, Lando, and Artoo-Detoo toward the enormous trapezoidal edifice of the correction facility. The brooding ma.s.s of the prison seemed to throb with years of pain and punishment, working at Luke's enhanced senses. He remained silent, on guard. At least the escorts kept their weapons holstered and behaved in as welcoming a fas.h.i.+on as they could manage.

They rode the tube elevators that climbed the sloping front wall of the prison. Through the transparisteel Luke watched the wastelands of Kessel spread hopelessly in front of them.

When the elevators opened into the mirrored administrative substructure, the guards motioned them to follow. Clerks, bureaucrats, and seedy-looking functionaries bustled through the halls, looking busier than they wanted to be. Luke wondered if Doole had staged this activity as an impressive show for Lando; but the frantic scrambling seemed more chaotic than efficient.

Moruth Doole himself met them in one of the corridors. The squat amphibian rubbed his splayed hands together and bobbed his head at them.

A mechanical contraption covering one eye focused and refocused itself.

"Welcome, Mr. Tymmo!" Doole said. "Let me apologize for our turmoil here. You haven't picked a very good time to visit. Yesterday I lost my right-hand man and my primary s.h.i.+ft boss in a tunnel mishap. Please excuse me if I seem a bit ... fl.u.s.tered."

"Quite all right," Lando said, shaking Doole's extended hand. "I've been administrator of several large mining operations myself. Sometimes the planet itself doesn't want to cooperate."

"Very true!" Doole said, opening and closing his mouth like a young rawwk begging for food. "Interesting way of looking at it."

"I hope the disaster didn't hurt your spice production too much?"

Lando said.

"Oh, we'll be back up to full output in no time."

Lando gestured to Luke. "My a.s.sociate is here to help me check out the details of spice mining and to advise me on its potential as an investment." He took a deep breath. "I know I must have taken you by surprise. Tell me, is there any part of your operation that I might invest in?"

Doole motioned for them to follow toward his office. His lizard-skin waistcoat rippled in the uncertain light of the corridors. "Come in, and we'll talk some more." Doole waddled ahead, turning his head from side to side as if he had trouble seeing where he was going. Inside the former warden's office Doole indicated for them to take a seat. Artoo idled beside Luke.

Glancing around the office, Luke noticed the carbon-frozen man hanging on one wall; the life-support indicator lights on the control panel were all dark. "Friend of yours?" he asked.

Doole sputtered a hissing laugh. "A former rival. He used to be warden of the prison here, before our little revolution brought genuine capitalism to the spice-mining industry." He sat down heavily behind the desk. "May I offer you any refreshment?"

Once seated, Lando folded his bands in his lap. "I'd rather talk business first. If our negotiations look promising, maybe we can celebrate with a drink."

"Good policy," Doole said, rubbing his bands again. "Now then, I've been thinking ever since your transmission, and I may well have something that could be the perfect investment. It so happens that just before his demise, our s.h.i.+ft boss uncovered an exceptionally rich deposit of glitterstim spice. It'll take a good amount of money and effort to make repairs in the collapsed tunnel and to exploit this resource, but the payoff can be greater than your wildest dreams."

"I have some pretty wild dreams," Lando said, flas.h.i.+ng his broadest smile.

Luke interrupted with a stern, skeptical voice. "Those are extravagant claims, Mr. Doole. Would you allow our Artoo unit to tap into your network and inspect the profits-loss picture of your operations for, say, the past two years? That will give me hard data on which to make a recommendation to Mr. Tymmo."

Doole squirmed on being asked to open his records, but Lando pulled his credit-transfer card from his pocket. "I can a.s.sure you the droid will do no damage to your data system, and I'd be happy to give you a small deposit, if it would make you feel more comfortable. Say, five thousand?"

Doole was trapped between his own uneasy wish for confidentiality and his need to appear aboveboard in front of a potential big investor--not to mention wanting the five thousand credits for its own sake.

"I suppose that would be all right. But I can give your droid access for only five minutes. It shouldn't need any more time than that to find the information."

Luke nodded. "That'll be fine, thank you." Artoo wouldn't waste effort checking out bogus profits-loss reports anyway. He would begin immediately trying to track down any record of Han Solo, Chewbacca, or the Millennium Falcon.

Humming forward, Artoo jacked into the terminal port beside Moruth Doole's desk. His data-link arm whirred as it accessed the information buried in the prison complex's computer.

While they waited, Lando continued his discussion with Doole. "I'd like to see all aspects of your spice mining and production. I'm sure you can arrange a tour immediately. Let us observe firsthand how the business works. Including these collapsed tunnels of yours--maybe I'd like to invest in repairs, if a good payoff seems likely."

"Uh," Doole said, looking behind him as if to find an excuse. "As I said, now is not a very good time. Perhaps we could arrange a more convenient time for you to come back--" Doole spread his squishy hands.

Lando shrugged eloquently and stood as if to leave. "I understand.

If you're not interested, I can go someplace else. This money is burning a hole in my account. I want to do something with it, right now. There are other spice mines on other planets."

"Ah, but they are sources of ryll spice, not glitterstim--"

"They are still profitable."

Artoo withdrew and chittered to Luke. Though Luke only partially understood the droid's language, he heard enough to know that Artoo had not found Han, nor anything particularly incriminating as far as Doole was concerned. If the information banks had held any record of the Falcon, they had been wiped clean.

"Well, what's your droid's opinion?" Doole asked, hearing the bleeps.

"He finds nothing out of the ordinary," Luke said. He exchanged a dejected glance with Lando.

Doole stood up, beaming. "All right. I understand your concerns, Mr. Tymmo. Sometimes inconvenience must take precedence in business matters. I wouldn't want you to leave Kessel with any doubts. Come, I'll show you the spice-processing line, then we'll arrange a tour of the newly opened tunnels."

He burbled off, leading the way as they followed, still looking for any sign of Han.

A floater car took them across the surface to the entrance shaft of the collapsed tunnels. Luke and Lando ducked involuntarily as they sped into the narrow corkscrew pa.s.sage.

"This was the site of an illegal mining operation back when the Imperial Correction Facility was in full control," Doole said, raising his voice above the sound of the speeding engines. "The perpetrators were caught, and this access shaft was sealed off until a recent avalanche opened everything up again."

Doole took them down into a wide grotto where part of the ceiling had fallen in. Wan light spilled down, illuminating the open areas.

Workers had strung lights around the perimeter as they hammered and hauled broken rock. A crew of thirty or so milled around the chamber, shoring up walls and removing debris. The tunnels out of the grotto had been blocked by portable pneumatic doors that sealed the rest of the tunnels in blackness.

"This is a rare opportunity, Mr. Tymmo," Doole said. He had grown more and more loquacious after showing them the spice-processing rooms where the blind larvae packaged glitterstim.

"Spice must be mined in total darkness, so we almost never get to see the tunnels in direct illumination. But the avalanche let in sunlight that spoiled all this glitterstim anyway. We sealed off the other shafts to preserve the rest."

"So what really happened here?" Lando asked, looking around.

"Tectonic disturbance," Doole said.

Luke could see the blackened marks where powerful blaster strikes had scored the stone walls, and he knew there was much more to this than simple seismic activity.

He felt a surge of startled fear from Lando. "What's that thing!"

Lando pointed to the other side of the grotto.

Buried under a pile of jagged rubble, dozens of gla.s.sy spear-like legs protruded at all angles. Dim jewel-like nodules dotted the spherical body core, eyes glazed in death. The rest of the body seemed to be made entirely of fangs. Falling chunks of rock had crushed it, and the creature's whip-like legs lay askew as if it had tried to flail the boulders aside.

Doole strutted over to the carca.s.s. "That, my friends, seems to be the thing that creates the spice itself. It's the first such creature we've encountered, but there must be others deep in the tunnels. We're getting a xen.o.biologist to study it. The bulk of its body seems to be made of glitterstim itself, and the strands we pull from the tunnel walls are what it uses as a web." Doole stopped short of actually touching the fallen monster.

The guard in charge of dissection joined them. He nudged one of the sharp crystalline legs with his boot. "We want to see if we can extract raw glitterstim from the web sac and spinnerets in the dead body."

Doole bobbed his head up and down. "Wouldn't that be something?