Jedi Prince_ The Glove Of Darth Vader Part 3

As the Imperial strike cruiser entered another of the docking bays at the huge underwater facility, Grand Moff Hissa a.s.sisted Trioculus's crew with the docking procedures.

GRONGGGG!.

A clang sounded as a large metal door closed behind Trioculus's Imperial strike cruiser.

Then seawater was quickly pumped out of the docking bay, making it safe for Trioculus, Grand Moff Hissa, and the droid Emdee to climb out and enter the Whaladon Processing Center.

There they were met by Captain Dunwell, who knelt on one knee and bowed his head before the Imperial leader. "Lord Trioculus," he said, "a most Imperial welcome to you." Then he glanced up and smiled proudly.

Trioculus didn't like the way the captain seemed to be staring at him. It was as though the captain were repulsed by Trioculus's third eye.

"I trust you had a safe and comfortable journey," Captain Dunwell offered, nervously tweaking his short white beard.

"You need not worry about my comfort," replied Trioculus. "I want to know what was so urgent that I had to come all the way to Calamari for you to show it to me."

"Certainly, your lords.h.i.+p," said the captain, fidgeting with the medals on his bright blue uniform. "Come, we should speak in the privacy of my office."

Together they climbed up some stairs, then walked along a metal balcony that overlooked an enormous work area. Down below, dozens of Aqualish were skinning several Whaladons that had been killed, chopping the meat into huge slabs and loading it into carts.

The walrus-faced alien race of Aqualish, who had smooth, tough skins and large eyes, was a stubborn and tough fighting breed. They worked as bounty hunters, mercenaries, and as ruthless Whaladon killers.

The Whaladon meat they were chopping would soon be transported to the Whaladon Meat Quality Control Division.

Trioculus's three eyes peered down at the workers as he walked slowly from one end of the balcony to the other. He nodded approvingly, but his mind was on other things. In fact, he was in such an impatient mood that his right hand had begun twitching.

"I hope you're finding this instructive," said Captain Dunwell. "My office is just a little farther."

They continued walking through cold corridors and across wide work platforms until they reached the building's largest office, which belonged to Captain Dunwell. It had a gigantic window with a wide, sweeping view of the ocean and its enormous seaweed forest containing exotic Calamarian fish of every size, color, and shape imaginable.

When the Imperial leader entered the office, followed by Grand Moff Hissa and Emdee, Captain Dunwell locked the door and pointed to a navigation chart.

"This chart shows the route I took when I made my last journey to the Valley of the Giant Oysters, located on the other side of the Seascape Mountains. And this area here," Captain Dunwell continued, pointing out a small region of the undersea valley, "is where I discovered debris from an explosion."

The captain showed Trioculus the few metal sc.r.a.ps that were on his desk. "This is some of the debris I brought back with me. I've had it a.n.a.lyzed by an engineer-it's from the Death Star. I could hardly believe it since the Death Star blew up millions of miles away, near Endor."

"The intense gravity of black holes and other interstellar forces cause warps, folds, and buckles in s.p.a.ce," explained Grand Moff Hissa. "Asteroids and s.p.a.ces.h.i.+ps have tumbled into these s.p.a.ce warps and have suddenly reappeared millions of miles away. The same thing must have happened to this debris from the Imperial Death Star."

"Enough theories, Hissa," said Trioculus. "Continue with your story, Captain Dunwell."

He stared at the captain with his third eye, sending out hypnotic waves. A stare like that could make a man very truthful. The captain turned slightly pale.

"One of the chunks of the Death Star lying in the valley was huge-bigger than a Y-wing fighter, all melted and fused in a twisted shape. It was too large to bring back in the vessel I was in, so I suited up and examined it on the ocean floor. I tried to blast a hole in it, but my small laser couldn't do the job.

"I suspected that it was hollow, so I used my portable X-ray scanner to find out what was inside," he went on. "Allow me to show you what the scanner revealed."

The captain opened a drawer and took out several X-ray negatives. He studied first one image, then another, and then another. "Here," he said at last. "Look at this one." He touched his forefinger to the shadowy negative.

Trioculus leaned forward for a closer look.

Shutting his two lower eyes, he stared at the image with his third eye. The spot that Captain Dunwell was touching showed an object that seemed to have five fingers. Was it a hand? Or a glove?

Trioculus glanced at his right hand, which was trembling once again as he dreamed of fulfilling his goal. No human hand could have survived the heat of the Death Star explosion, he thought. And only one glove was known to be totally indestructible. This had to be it. A short undersea journey away. Almost within his grasp.

"You were correct to request that I come here, Captain," said Trioculus. "You have done well."

"Thank you, your lords.h.i.+p," said the captain, his voice booming with pride.

"How soon can you get us to the Valley of the Giant Oysters?" asked Grand Moff Hissa.

"I'll tell my crew to power up the Whaladon-hunting submarine immediately," Captain Dunwell replied.

Even sooner than Trioculus had expected, they were ready to depart.

KRR-RR-AAAAAAANG!.

With a mighty roar the Whaladon-hunting submarine pushed away from its undersea dock.

Bubbling foam churned behind it as the huge submarine picked up speed.

Captain Dunwell pointed out to Trioculus each of the vessel's special features.

Trioculus's face darkened with a nasty smile. "With so much advanced technology aboard, you'll have to make sure this s.h.i.+p is never captured by the Rebel Alliance."

"Have no fear of that, Lord Trioculus," replied Captain Dunwell. "If there's ever an undersea battle on Calamari, I'll destroy this s.h.i.+p myself before I'll ever let it fall into the hands of the Rebels."

Luke Skywalker's heart was pounding with excitement as Threepio translated Artoo's high-pitched beeps. All of Artoo's intelligence data about the meeting of Imperials in Kessendra Stadium was now at Luke's fingertips.

Luke and Admiral Ackbar soon hurried to the Calamarian office of SPIN. For months Luke had received intelligence reports about the Empire's many denials concerning the rumor that Emperor Palpatine had had a son. But at the big Imperial meeting in Kessendra Stadium the Empire had suddenly admitted that all its denials had been false. Just thinking about it made Luke shake his head in frustration. How could anyone believe anything the Empire said, when the Empire changed the "official truth" day by day to suit its convenience?

While Luke and Admiral Ackbar took care of the urgent business of contacting Mon Mothma about Trioculus, Threepio and Artoo checked into the Droid Repair Shop.

Threepio was given another head cover that was exactly like his old one, except that this one was s.h.i.+nier, without any scratches, nicks, or dents. He admired his replating job, looking at his golden color from every angle.

Artoo-Detoo also underwent a change back to his usual color. But it was his brand-new blue and silver R2 dome that made the little barrel-shaped droid spin in circles, showing how happy he was to be back to normal.

When the droids came out of the Droid Repair Shop, Luke, Threepio, and Artoo boarded a fish-shaped Calamarian minisub with Admiral Ackbar, who navigated the vessel toward the ocean floor.

"Now that we've sent the news to Mon Mothma about the Imperial leader Trioculus, it's time we tried to help the Whaladons," Ackbar told them. "And the best way for me to explain the Whaladon crisis is to show you the Whaladon graveyard. From there it's a short trip to Captain Dunwell's undersea Whaladon Processing Center."

"Dzneeeeek?" beeped Artoo.

"Artoo wants to know what they do there," translated Threepio.

"That's where they take the captured Whaladons and butcher them," said Admiral Ackbar.

"There they turn those beautiful, intelligent creatures into food for Imperial officers!"

"Perish the thought," said Threepio, shaking his head in dismay.

"For many years we've had a law on Calamari making it illegal to hunt Whaladons,"

explained Admiral Ackbar. "But no matter how hard we try we cannot control Captain Dunwell. He does whatever the Central Committee of Grand Moffs wants, and they want Whaladon meat, even if it means destroying the ecology of Calamari."

"Chnooozbch kjiiiik?" beeped Artoo.

"Artoo wants to know how the hunting of Whaladons harms the ecology of your planet,"

Threepio translated.

"The Whaladons eat the little plants, or plankton, that grow at the surface of our oceans," Ackbar explained. "If those little plants spread and become too plentiful, as they breathe they could use up all the carbon dioxide in our atmosphere-the process of photosynthesis. Without carbon dioxide our planet would get much colder. You see, we need Whaladons to keep the amount of plankton in balance, or we Calamarians could wake up one day to find ourselves in an ice age!"

Admiral Ackbar's attention was suddenly captured by a blip on his sonar unit. "Luke, have a look at this," he said in a serious tone. He pointed to a bright circle of luminous light on the sonar screen. "The only vessel of this size in these waters is Captain Dunwell's submarine. Let's see what he's up to."

Cautiously the Calamarian minisub followed the huge, dark shape lurking dead ahead. Light from luminous coral began reflecting off the Whaladon-hunting submarine, making its dark form more visible. Luke could see that the vessel was like a vast self-propelled underwater fortress.

The Calamarian minisub followed it silently, navigating the same course at a safe distance to the rear. The small size and efficient antisonar system of the Calamarian minisub made it almost impossible for an enemy to detect, except at very close range.

In the cramped cabin Luke Skywalker watched through the front porthole. Threepio was tightly strapped into the rear seat, beneath the emergency navigation controls, and Artoo was pushed up against the golden droid's knees.

Luke could see the white form of Leviathor leading a group of Whaladons away from the path of the dreaded submarine. Then he choked with horror as he saw a swirling ma.s.s of foaming dark water, like an undersea tornado, moving straight toward Leviathor.

Admiral Ackbar struggled to control his little sub as it vibrated wildly in the churning water. Luke watched as Leviathor tried to escape, but the whirlpool caught hold of Leviathor as the old white Whaladon fought for his life.

The suction pulled Leviathor backward, tail first. Then Leviathor spun around and around at a dizzying speed, while a huge door opened on the side of the Whaladon-hunting submarine. In a few moments Leviathor was sucked through the door and he vanished from sight.

THUUUU-WHOMP!.

As the metal door slammed shut, claiming its prize catch, Luke could hear a dull thud pounding through the waves.

"This is a very sad day for Calamari," said Ackbar, shuddering. "Without Leviathor the Whaladons haven't a chance now."

Luke's mouth fell open as he saw another Whaladon trapped in the whirlpool. The Whaladon fell into the swirling hole, tumbling and twisting, then was quickly trapped inside another storage chamber.

Then a third Whaladon was trapped.

And a fourth.

Ackbar abruptly pushed the steering lever to the left. Their Calamarian minisub turned sharply away, then picked up speed.

"Surely there must be something we can do," said Threepio, nervously polis.h.i.+ng his fingers. "Why, they've swallowed up four Whaladons in the last few minutes, including Leviathor."

"It looks hopeless," said Ackbar sadly.

Luke remembered all of the hopeless situations he had been in before. How many times in his life had he almost been ready to give up? But he never had.

If there was any hope of saving the Whaladons, they couldn't turn back now. So they kept following the Whaladon-hunting submarine as it went straight toward the dark Seascape Mountains.

Luke squinted, almost losing sight of the huge vessel as the shadows of the undersea cliffs concealed it. But he could still just barely make it out in the darkening waters.

It cruised toward a large pa.s.sageway between two rugged underwater cliffs.

"There are no Whaladons this way-destination unknown," said Admiral Ackbar, wondering where Captain Dunwell was headed.

It was a dangerous journey through the jagged mountains that stretched across the bottom of the sea. There were hot currents that bubbled up and shook their Calamarian minisub, and there were falling rocks that tumbled through the water and almost crushed them.

When they finally emerged from a hollow s.p.a.ce that formed a natural tunnel in the mountain, they reached a valley unlike any that Luke had ever seen. It was bathed in the soft green light of a luminous, flowery vine forest. Every few moments there were glints of color sparkling through the water, glows from alien eel creatures that lived and thrived in the depths of the Calamarian ocean. He stared in wonder at the eels and at the huge gleaming pearls, hundreds of them, inside the open mouths of the giant oysters on the valley floor.

Luke didn't know what surprised him more-the number of oysters or their size. Any one of them was large enough to swallow him with one quick bite.

But the pearls and slithering eel creatures weren't all that was gleaming. There was a glint from jagged edges that seemed to be sc.r.a.ps of metal.

Artoo's domed top swiveled around and his little radar screen popped up as high as it could go. He tooted and whistled.

"Tweeeeez bziiiiii!"

"Well, I do believe you're correct, Artoo," Threepio exclaimed. "It's like a mine field.

There are pieces of metal debris everywhere."

"It looks like something exploded," said Admiral Ackbar. "Luke, can your Artoo unit examine a piece of metal and determine its atomic structure?"

"fizoookch!" squawked Artoo.

"Affirmative, sir," Threepio explained.

"Let's use the arm-scoop then," said Ackbar.

Skillfully handling the control for the underwater arm-scoop, the admiral extended a long rod that had a metal claw at its end. The claw grabbed a small piece of sc.r.a.p metal, then the rod was pulled back into their minisub.

In a moment a narrow slot popped open on the floor near Luke's right boot, revealing the piece of metal that the arm-scoop had just pulled out of the ocean.

Luke reached for it. "Here you go, Artoo," he said, holding it in front of his little utility droid. "Take a quick reading on this."

"I'm especially interested to know whether it contains any doonium or phobium," said Ackbar.

"Gooooo-zizzz beee-zeeez!" beeped Artoo.

Threepio translated Artoo's answer. The metal was six percent doonium, a very heavy element used by the Empire in most of its war machines. The metal was also three percent phobium.

"Phobium was mined by Emperor Palpatine on Gargon," said Ackbar. "And there's only one thing I know of that he ever used it for: to coat the power core of the Death Star."

Luke's eyes widened in astonishment. "So then these are sc.r.a.ps from the power core of the exploded Death Star!" He stared through the front porthole again. The Whaladon-hunting submarine had stopped.

A small sub that Luke guessed was an emergency-escape vehicle exited the Whaladon-hunting submarine. But now it was being used for exploration, not for escape.

Slowly and steadily it approached a large chunk of twisted sc.r.a.p metal, one almost as large as an Imperial command speeder. Luke felt a s.h.i.+ver run up his spine as he suddenly realized what was about to happen.