Luke opened his eyes. It was pitch-black. Binders around his wrists held his arms above his head. Similar bolts wrapped around his waist and ankles, pinning him against a cool stone wall.

Everything hurt.

He struggled against the restraints, but they held fast. There was no hope of reaching his lightsaber, which, as the world came back into focus, he saw was still attached to his belt. No hope of escape. Luke tried not to panic.

He was a Jedi, he reminded himself. He should be able to think his lightsaber into his hand. But he had no idea how to do so.

“Take it easy, kid,” Han’s voice floated out of the darkness. “Your eyes will adjust soon enough.”

Chewbacca yowled from a few feet away. Luke thought he could make out a hulking shadow that might have been the Wookiee.

“Of course he’s all right,” Han said. “I wasn’t worried.”

Chewbacca growled something back.

“Only because it took him so long to wake up!” Han said defensively. “It’s not my fault he has a weak constitution.”

“Hey!” Luke protested feebly. The lingering effects of the force pike made his muscles feel like jelly. Even if he could escape from the binders, Luke feared he might not be able to stand, much less fight.

“I think we’ve been here for several hours,” Tobin Elad said. “It’s unclear what they’re waiting for.”

“Did the droids escape?” Luke asked. “Maybe they can help us.”

“Maybe,” Leia said, but she didn’t sound particularly hopeful. Luke, his eyes still adjusting to the dark, peered across the room at her shadowy figure, pinned against the wall. He began struggling against the restraints again. Being trapped was bad enough. But imagining Leia dangling helplessly, while he could do nothing to save her? That was intolerable.

“Or maybe they’re already scrap metal on some Imperial construction project,” Han said. “Probably more pleasant than whatever’s in store for us.”

A door swung open, letting a shaft of bright light into the room. Luke winced at the sight of his friends chained to the walls. A trickle of dried blood ran down the side of Leia’s face.

The stormtrooper’s white armor gleamed. “I’ve been ordered to ask if you’re thirsty.”

“Sure,” Han said. “How’s about you unlock these cuffs and you and I can go grab a drink? Get to know each other a little.”

The stormtrooper crossed the room, stopping inches from Han’s immobilized body. Luke held his breath.

Instead of a blaster, the guard pulled out a transparent container of liquid, holding it to Han’s lips. “Drink.”

Han did — then spat the water in the stormtrooper’s face.

For a moment, the guard didn’t react. Then he pressed a button on his wrist console. Han shouted in pain as the binders around his wrists sizzled with electric current. His head dropped to his chest as he slipped into unconsciousness.

“Anyone else want a drink?” the stormtrooper asked, in a conversational tone.

Silence.

He shrugged and turned to leave the room. “Wait!” Luke shouted, a desperate plan taking shape.

The stormtrooper paused, turning to face Luke. “You want to test out your stun cuffs, too?”

Luke closed his eyes, trying to call on the Force. I need you now, Ben, he thought, remembering the day that Ben had first revealed himself as a Jedi Master. He’d used the Force to manipulate the minds of his enemies. The Force can have a strong influence on the weak-minded, Ben had said.

“You don’t want to hold us prisoner anymore.” Luke stared intensely at the guard. “You want to let us go.”

There was a long pause.

“No I don’t,” the stormtrooper said. The door shut behind them, and darkness closed in again.

Hours crept by. Maybe days. There was no way to gauge the passing of time. Luke swallowed hard, his throat dry and scratchy. He wondered if the guard would ever return with more water. Or perhaps this was what the Empire had in store for them all along — a long, slow death by dehydration. They would hang here until their stomachs shrank, their bodies dried out, and they grew weaker and weaker, until they prayed for the end.

They didn’t speak much. Everyone had retreated into their own thoughts. Perhaps they were formulating escape plans, but Luke doubted it.

Escape seemed hopeless.

Now there was nothing to do but wait.

Luke was asleep when the door opened again. It was the light that woke him. He squinted, unaccustomed to the brightness that filled the room. A Muun, taller and slimmer than the others they’d seen, stood in the doorway, his shimmering green robe stretching to the floor.

The Muun nodded, and the cuffs around Luke’s wrists and ankles suddenly released. He tumbled to the hard floor with a painful thump. One by one, his friends dropped to the ground as well.

“Apologies for my guards,” the Muun said in Basic, his nasal voice sounding unaccustomed to the vowels. “They tend to get carried away.”

Luke slowly pulled himself into a sitting position. When he tried to stand, his legs nearly gave out beneath him. Finally, he forced himself upright, sagging against the wall for support. Whatever the Muun had in store for them, Luke vowed he would find the strength to fight back.

They’d been stripped of their blasters. But at least he still had his lightsaber. That was something.

“Your guards?” Leia asked. She, too, was leaning against the wall. Chewbacca had pulled Han into a standing position and had a furry arm around the pilot. Only Tobin Elad stood firm and upright, apparently unharmed by the ordeal. “Not the Emperor’s?”

The Muun gave her a faint smile. “Even the Empire has debts to repay,” he said cryptically. “Occasionally I elect to take my remuneration in a non-monetary form. Having Imperial guards in my employ can prove useful from time to time, but occasionally …” He shook his head. “They can be a bit overenthusiastic. And when that happens … well, I’m told you already know about Mak Luunim.”

Luke exchanged a meaningful glance with Leia. So Luunim hadn’t been killed by the Empire after all. Which meant his death likely had nothing to do with his connection to the Rebel Alliance.

“You ordered him killed?” Luke said. “Why?”

“Now, now, precision is everything,” the Muun chastised him. “Muunilinst is a civilized planet — having someone killed would be a crime. But can I be held accountable for actions my guards take in their own defense?”

“We know nothing of Luunim’s dealings with you,” Leia said, without a single note of fear in her voice. “And we have no interest in avenging his death. We are not your enemies.”

“That remains to be seen,” the Muun told her. “First you show up at Luunim’s dwelling. Then you masquerade as gamblers so as to track me down? You’ve been rather busy — and, it seems, very intent on involving yourself in my business.” He smiled at the look of surprise on their faces. “Oh yes, I’m Nal Kenuun, the one you’ve been looking for. Now, would anyone like to explain why you continue to bother me?”

“We’re bothering you?” Han asked incredulously. “Hey, easy solution, just let us walk out of here, we’ll never bother you again.”

“We came for something that belongs to us.” Leia spoke over Han’s blustering. “Luunim was holding a datacard of financial access codes. It’s ours, and we believe you confiscated it along with the rest of his valuables. We’d like it back, please.” She sounded like she was making an official request in the Senatorial chambers, rather than begging something of her captor as she cowered in his dungeon.

Kenuun nodded. “Yes, I have taken possession of Luunim’s financial records. It’s likely I have what you’re looking for. And of course, if it belongs to you, I have no right to hold it. Except …”

“Except?” Han repeated. “Except is never good.”

Chewbacca grumbled in agreement.

“Except that you took something of mine. Something of great value.”

“We’ve taken nothing from you,” Luke insisted.

“To the contrary, you took one of my most prized possessions,” Kenuun argued. “I believe you knew him by the name of Grunta?”

“That was self-defense!” Luke protested. “He ambushed us.”

“I’m sure he did,” Kenuun said. “Getting into trouble was one of Grunta’s few talents. It’s the reason I had him shadowed by a homing droid — lucky thing, or I might never have found the beings who killed him.”

So the guards weren’t after us, Luke thought. They were after the Dug.

“The Muuns are honorable beings,” Kenuun said. “And I would be happy to return your possession to you — once you replace mine.”

“And just how are we supposed to replace your pet Dug?” Han asked.

“By doing his job for him. Grunta may have had many failings, but he was an excellent Podracer. And in the Podrace two days hence, he was about to earn me a rather large sum of money.”

“Podracing is illegal,” Leia said. “Half the racers end up dead.”

“Indeed. Poor Grunta was probably lucky to live as long as he did. And certainly this was a more pleasant way to go.” The Muun crossed his long, slender arms. “Be that as it may, the race goes on. One of you will take Grunta’s spot in the race. And you will win. I’ll receive my money, you’ll receive your datacard.”

“How do we know you’ll keep your end of the bargain?” Luke asked.

Kenuun looked offended. “I’m a Muun,” he said. “There’s nothing more sacred to my people than keeping our word in financial dealings.”

“It’s true,” Han pointed out. “Muuns’ll take you for everything you’ve got, but they never cheat.”

“It’s irrelevant,” Elad snapped. “No human can win a Podrace. The best of human pilots would be lucky to even finish the race without crashing. And since I don’t think the Wookiee is up to the task …”

“One of you will enter the race,” Kenuun said again, unmoved. “You will win. Then and only then, the datacard will be yours.”

“Unless we die trying,” Han added.

The Muun nodded at the two stormtroopers who flanked him on either side. They raised their blasters, aiming them toward the prisoners. “There are many ways to die,” he said serenely. “And as you knew Mak Luunim, you know what happens to beings who choose not to repay their debts to me.”

“We’ll do it,” Luke said. “We’ll race, and we’ll win. We accept your bargain.”

Leia shot him an alarmed look. “Have you ever seen a Podrace?” she asked. “It’s certain death.”

Luke had seen several Podraces — Tatooine was one of the few places left in the galaxy where the illegal sport still flourished. He knew that no human had the reflexes to compete. No ordinary human, at least.

But he also knew that they had no choice.

And that when it came to flying, he was far from ordinary.

“We’ll do it,” he repeated. “I’ll do it.”