12

Luke took a deep breath. He stood outside Ben’s house, the first stars of evening aglimmer, the moon still on the rise. The air was warm but not as scorchingly hot as it had been. He held the completed lightsaber in his right hand. He had assembled it according to the old book’s direction; everything should work.

Should work. But he’d come outside to test it. That way, if it blew up, at least it wouldn’t take Ben’s house with it.

Artoo stood nearby, watching. Luke could have had the droid try it without any risk to himself, but what kind of Jedi would do that?

“Go back inside,” he told Artoo.

Artoo was not happy with that and said so, ending in an air-forced-through-rubbery-lips noise.

“Go on. If something happens, I need you to tell Leia.”

Yeah. Tell her Luke, the galaxy’s biggest idiot, flash-flamed himself into a black crisp because he couldn’t follow an elementary circuit diagram.

Artoo left, whistling his protest as he went.

Luke let his breath out. He waited until Artoo was out of sight, then took another deep breath, held it, and pushed the control button—

The lightsaber glowed; the blade extruded to full length, just under a meter, and began to hum with power. It gave off a green gleam that was quite bright in the early night.

Luke grinned and let his indrawn breath escape. Whew.

Well, it wasn’t like he really thought it was going to explode.

He waved the lightsaber experimentally. It had a good balance, maybe even better than his first one. He drew himself up into a ready stance, slid forward, and swung through a series of downward cuts, alternating from left to right and back.

Yes!

There was a thin spire of rock jutting up from the dry ground a few meters away. He moved to it, cocked the lightsaber, and whipped it down at a forty-five-degree angle. The humming blade crackled, sheared through a wrist-thick chunk of rock, left a smooth cut.

He nodded and relaxed his fighting stance. He held his left hand near the blade. No sensation of heat; that was good; it meant the superconductors were working.

Behind him, Artoo chirped and rolled to a stop.

Luke shut the lightsaber’s power off. Saw the droid and shook his head. He had a mind of his own, Artoo did.

“Hey, it works great,” Luke said. “I knew it would, you know.”

Did Artoo’s whistled agreement have a sarcastic tone?

Luke chuckled. Well. No matter. He had built the elegant weapon, and it worked. That was something.

Maybe he would learn how to be a Jedi Master after all.

He looked up at the stars. He hoped Leia and the others were doing okay.

Leia, Chewie, and Lando sat in Avaro’s private office, facing him across a large desk made of some kind of carved yellowish bone.

Avaro’s skin had faded to a dull green; he was much fatter than most of the Rodians Leia had seen, and he spoke Basic with a lispy accent.

“I thee no prowblemth,” he said. “Gweedo thouldn’t have twied to take Tholo alone. He wath not vewwy bwight, my nephew. Tholo ith fwothen, Kenobi ith dead, yowah money ith ath good ath anybodyth.”

Well. So much for family ties. Made things easier, though she wished Avaro would speak some language in which he was more proficient. She didn’t know what, given that her Rodian was elementary. Oh, well. She could understand him with a little work, and that was all that was necessary.

“So you will put us in touch with the proper people?”

Avaro nodded. “Yeth. It will take a few dayth. Local contakth won’t do you any good, you need an off-planet wepwethentative.”

“Fine.”

“Meanwhile, feel fwee to enjoy owah cathino. Woomth will be made available fowah you.”

Leia nodded. “Thanks.”

If Mos Eisley was bad, this place was worse, Leia thought, as they left Avaro’s office and moved toward the hotel section. There were electronic gambling devices, card games, wheels of fortune and the like, with players and dealers and operators busy at them, but the floor was worn and dirty, the air filled with smoke and an odor of spice that indicated some of the patrons might be chemically enhanced—or chemically debilitated, depending on how you viewed such things. Large armed guards stood at regular intervals, looking, she thought, for somebody to shoot. It all looked seedy and unkempt.

Lando glanced around with a critical eye.

“See anything you like?” Leia said.

“Couple of the card games look as if they might be honest. Place like this in a complex with so many other casinos pretty much has to be on the up-and-up. House percentage ensures a good profit, and if there aren’t a few big winners now and then, the customers go elsewhere. Better stay away from the credit disk machines and the wheels, though. Those’ll be rigged.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t gamble.”

Lando grinned.

“Something funny?”

“Princess, you’re the biggest gambler I’ve ever met. But you don’t risk money, you risk your neck.”

Leia also had to grin a little at that. He had a point.

Threepio waited at the entrance, and he did not seem happy to be there. He did seem relieved to see them return. “I hope your meeting went well,” he said.

“Yeah, it did,” Lando answered. “Though I think we might take you to translate for us next time. Avaro has a slight problem with Basic.”

“Happy to be of service,” Threepio said. “I’d much rather stay with you than out here alone. Some of the patrons seem quite unsavory.”

Leia smiled again. There was an understatement.

“We’d better get checked in,” Lando said. “Then we can come down and see just how honest this operation is.”

It was nearly a standard week after his meeting with the Emperor, and Darth Vader now stood on the bridge of his Super-class Star Destroyer, about to leave hyperspace. They had entered the Baji Sector and would soon be in the Lybeya System. In formation with him were two Victory-class and one Imperial-class Star Destroyers, more than sufficient firepower to destroy a single shipyard.

Better too much than too little, the Emperor had said.

Vader took no particular joy in this kind of mission, it was so impersonal; but it was a necessary part of the war. The enemy could not fight without equipment, and depriving him of it was much better in the long run than waiting to meet in battle, no matter what Vader’s personal preferences might be.

“We are dropping to sublight, Lord Vader.”

He turned and saw a junior officer standing there. He had heard that the officers drew lots when it came time to deliver messages to him, and the loser had to go. It was good that they feared him. Fear was a better weapon than a blaster or a lightsaber.

Vader was silent, allowing the man to worry for a moment. “Very well,” he finally said. “Set a course for the Vergesso Asteroids, using the coordinates for the shipyard. I will be in my chambers. Call me when we get there.”

“Yes, Lord Vader.”

After the frightened officer hurried away, Vader stood there staring after the man. He would much rather be hunting Luke Skywalker than playing figurehead on a mission any line officer with half a working brain could manage. True, he had his agents in the field—some volunteers, some conscripted—many of whom were quite adept, but it was not the same as doing it himself.

He blew out a particularly labored breath. Unfortunately, he had not been given a choice. The Emperor did not ask for opinions when he issued a command.

The best Vader could do was to hurry and finish as quickly as possible.

He headed toward his chambers.

Lando sat at a table with five other cardplayers, engaged in a game Leia didn’t recognize. Each player was given seven thin electronic rectangles by the dealer droid, allowed to discard up to four of them, then to draw replacements. The game seemed to involve sorting these card plates into colors and numbers, then betting that the resulting combinations would either total more points than the other players’ or come closer to some ideal. Leia wasn’t quite sure about that part yet. Apparently each player was given the same number of points on a counter to begin with, and the winner was the one with the highest total when the session ended.

Lando seemed to be doing well at the game. The electronic counter in front of him showed a positive balance higher than all but one of the others.

“The bet is fifteen,” the droid said. “The sum is minimum and the color is open.”

“Match,” the bald man next to the dealer said. “In green.”

“Match, in blue,” a young Rodian female next to him said.

“Double,” Lando said. “In red.”

The other players groaned.

Lando smiled.

Threepio stood nearby, watching, as did Chewie. Threepio kept his voice quiet and said, “I don’t understand how he keeps winning. He isn’t playing correctly. The odds on the match he just offered are eight hundred and six to one. It would be very difficult to achieve that combination.”

“He’s bluffing,” Leia whispered.

Threepio turned to look at her. “That doesn’t seem very wise.”

Three of the players tossed their cards into the retrieval tray.

“Sure it is,” Leia said. “He’s winning and they are intimidated. Rather than risk losing more, they prefer to drop out.”

“But what if one of the other players has a superior hand and doesn’t drop out?”

“Watch,” she whispered.

Now just Lando, the bald man, and the Rodian female were left in the round.

“Match,” the bald man said.

“Plus a tenth,” the Rodian said.

“Redouble,” Lando said. “In red, maximum count.”

“He can’t possibly achieve that,” Threepio whispered.

Chewie growled at him.

“How rude. I was merely stating the truth—”

“Be quiet,” Leia said. She was interested in seeing how the others reacted to Lando’s gambit.

The bald man shook his head and tendered his cards. “Too steep for me.”

The Rodian looked at her cards, held in such a way that Leia could not see them, then glanced at Lando.

Lando smiled at her. The expression was at once warm and mocking. He looked self-satisfied, confident, even smug.

Oh, he was good.

The Rodian muttered something Leia didn’t catch, though she guessed it was probably a curse of some kind. She shoved her cards into the collector.

“Round to player number three,” the droid said.

Lando tossed his cards into the collector and turned to grin at Leia.

Threepio said, “I can’t believe it.”

Leia said, “Sometimes the appearance of strength can be as effective as strength itself. Think about the Bulano serpent, which has no teeth or claws or poison but which can blow itself up to five times its normal size, making itself look fiercer and more dangerous. It might not really matter whether you can beat an opponent if he believes you can.”

“I suppose you have a point,” Threepio said. But he did not sound convinced.

Leia hoped Lando was having fun; she wasn’t. They’d been here for three days, and since she didn’t care to wager on the games of chance in this pit, it wasn’t interesting for her. She’d practiced with a Rodian electrodictionary and learned a few words and phrases. She’d gone outside a couple of times, Chewie staying with her like a shadow, but that wasn’t much fun, either. Like Mos Eisley this time of year, it was hot. Unlike that wretched place, there was an ocean not too far away from the gambling complex, so the humidity was much higher. It was thus hot and sticky, hardly an improvement.

She could, she supposed, go to that body of water and sit on a beach or something. Avaro had made it known that many tourists did that, swam or motosurfed while their friends or relatives spent time in the casinos. Of course, sitting on a beach and enjoying the breeze and a cold drink might be fun, but probably not as much fun with a grumbling Wookiee complaining about the sand in his fur.

Besides, if something came up, she wanted to be right here.

There was a row of holoboard games set up in one corner of the casino, with players betting on their skills there, and Chewie seemed interested, the way he kept looking in that direction.

She shook her head. “Come on,” she said to Chewie. “You want to play, play. I’ll watch and Threepio can stand behind you and offer bad advice.”

The Wookiee raised his eyebrows.

The three of them left Lando and headed toward the board games. Amazing how fast a path cleared for them. Leia didn’t know if that was because of their connection to Avaro, who deigned to pass through the smelly room from time to time, or because Chewie led the way. There was a “no shooting inside” policy, they’d been told, but almost everybody seemed to be sporting a weapon of some kind, and Chewbacca’s bowcaster looked particularly lethal.

She was surprised there didn’t seem to be any Imperial presence. No stormtroopers, no off-duty officers, nothing. Maybe it was because Black Sun had some interest in the complex.

She sighed. Somehow when she’d signed on to help the Alliance, she’d never pictured herself in a ninth-rate, bug-chewed casino waiting to be contacted by a representative of the galaxy’s largest criminal organization. If somebody had told her that even a few months ago, she would have laughed and told them to see a medic.

Trying to guess your own future turned out wrong almost all the time.

Life was strange that way.