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Armor off and hood in place, Luke looked over the red pond awaiting him. I am not food. I am not food. He swung over the lip of the tank and dropped into the goo, felt it close around his legs, rise to his waist.

But there was no pain. He moved forward. The stuff was warm and heavy enough to significantly retard his progress—much like the thickest of the sludge-ponds he’d struggled through on Dagobah, so many years ago.

In the Force, he could clearly feel the place where the red goo became more shallow, and in moments he stood next to that point. He turned on the oxygen canister, offered his wife and Tahiri a jaunty wave, and went under the surface.

Darkness closed on him immediately. Not a job for the claustrophobic, he decided. I am not food. I am not food.

Reaching down, he groped around until he felt the object he was seeking. It had a curved edge and was a little larger than some circular steering controls … As he felt around it, he realized that it was a metal wheel, solid of construction, attached to a hub attached to the tank’s surface.

It was, in fact, identical to the sort of hatch-closing wheel found on many types of war vessels.

It wouldn’t spin in one direction, but obligingly rotated a quarter-turn in the other … and immediately Luke felt a vibration in the metal wheel, in the tank, throughout the goo. He hurriedly rose. When he stood up in the middle of the tank, the goo fell away from him, not clinging.

The chamber was changing.

From the floor in front of the tank something was rising—a rectangular plug three meters wide by three meters long.

The top portion of the plug was metal plating, half a meter thick. Below it was stone, and the stone portion kept rising, one meter, two, three, while Luke slogged his way over toward the side of the tank.

Then the stone gave way to machinery, another three meters of metal construction, before the whole apparatus clanked to a stop.

Mara and the others were well back from the apparatus, covering it with blasters. “What did you do?”

Luke pulled the breathing mask off. “I turned a wheel. Something obviously still has power.”

He saw Face glance in his direction and grin. Tahiri, in the light from the glowrods, looked at him, flushed red, and turned away, staring back at the plug. Danni joined her in this scrutiny.

Mara suppressed a laugh; it came out as a cough. “Luke, before you step out and join us, out of respect for those of us you’re not married to, you might want to be sure that you’re presentable.”

Luke glanced down. His torso was bare. He reached down into the goo. The submerged portions of his garment were missing, too.

He reached the edge of the tank and stood close to it. “I guess I forgot to tell the stuff, ‘My clothes aren’t food, either.’ ”

“I guess you did.”

“Could you pass me my pack?”

The plug was a turbolift housing. Once Luke was out of the tank and dressed in spare clothes—his black clingsuit, which was more likely to be visible in the joints and gaps of his false vonduun crab armor—he could see the doors that gave access to the turbolift within. They opened readily enough when Luke neared them, spilling bright artificial glow out onto the floor.

He peeked within. The control panel had only three settings: MAINTENANCE, HOUSING, and RESEARCH.

“Research,” Danni said.

Luke snorted. “I knew you’d say that.”

“We all did,” Bhindi said. “But I have no objection.”

Face brought up his comlink. “Kell, Elassar?”

“We hear you.” The voice was Kell’s.

“We may be gone for a little while. Don’t be surprised or alarmed.”

“As long as Aunt Tahiri is going to be back in time for my bedtime story, I’ll be all right.”

Tahiri sighed. “He’s starting to get on my nerves. Doesn’t he know that’s a bad idea?”

Baljos snorted. “He knows. But he’s a demolitions expert. He likes playing with things that blow up in his face.”

They entered the turbolift. Its doors shut them in. Luke hit the button reading RESEARCH.

The turbolift did not immediately move. An antiquated droid voice, coming from