Star Wars_ Darksaber - Kevin J. Anderson [5]
“Whatever you say, buddy,” Han said.
“We should reach Jabba’s palace by tomorrow,” Luke said with weary hope.
“I can’t wait,” Han said. “I mean, we had so much fun the last time we were there.”
CHAPTER 2
The Sand People roused themselves in the frigid darkness before the first of Tatooine’s twin suns crept over the horizon. Han shivered, finding no warmth in his bandage wrappings. Luke moved more sluggishly than ever.
Han was worried about his friend. In addition to exhaustion, Luke was suffering from deep frustration at his inability to help Callista—the Jedi woman he loved—regain her lost powers. And now, after days without sleep on the razor’s edge of peril, hiding among ferocious desert nomads, Luke’s stamina was wearing dangerously thin.
The Tusken Raiders saddled their banthas, and the shaggy beasts stomped impatiently, as if anxious to be off before the day’s heat caught up with them. Soundlessly, with gaffi sticks and scavenged blaster rifles ready, the Sand People rode out into the desert as the sky filled with purple, brightening to a lavender shot with molten gold.
When the first sun rose, Han felt the temperature sky-rocket after only a few moments. The air smelted flat and metallic through his mouthpiece, but Han endured in silence.
He thought of Leia and their three children back on Coruscant and fantasized about the peaceful life of a small yet successful trader. But Han grimaced behind the bandages: such a quiet life would be a greater torture than any vicious punishment the Sand People could devise.
By midmorning, the Tusken Raiders topped a rocky rise and looked across distended shadows and painted desert to the ruins of Jabba the Hutt’s palace. The citadel stood silent and monolithic in the crags. Han shivered at his first glance.
“I told you I’d get us here,” Luke said through the voice pickup.
“We’re not inside yet, kid,” Han answered.
“When I split off, follow me,” Luke said. “I’ll distract the Sand People so they won’t even notice us separating from them. Once we get out of sight, I can release my control—and I’ll be glad for the rest.”
Far across the rolling ocean of sand, the collected winds made a minor sandwhirl, such as often whipped up in the wastelands—but Luke used it to his advantage.
The lead Raider grunted something and pointed with his gaffi stick, wheeling his bantha about to watch the sandwhirl. The other Sand People turned, inordinately fascinated by the dust whirl. They chattered among themselves, grunting and hooting through their breathmasks.
Luke used the diversion to nudge his bantha to the right, splitting off from the line of Tusken Raiders. Han yanked on the rough curved horn of his mount. He couldn’t believe it was going to work, but he and Luke rode side by side, trotting down the sandy slope. Their footprints churning up dust, the banthas crossed the great empty bowl into the rocky canyon that led to Jabba’s palace.
Han looked back anxiously, but none of the Tusken Raiders turned in their direction. The Sand People continued to point their sticks and shout toward the sandwhirl as if it were an approaching army.
Luke urged his bantha between the narrow, rust-rock walls where the canyon shadows fell about them. Heat-broken boulders rose on either side, and the baked sulfurous sand and mud was like duracrete underfoot as the mounts trotted toward the lower entrance of Jabba’s palace.
Once they were out of sight, Luke let out a heavy sigh and slumped against his saddle. “We made it!” he said. “They shouldn’t remember us at all.”
“Yeah,” Han said, “and we got all the way from Anchorhead without anybody noticing us—no spies, no witnesses, no records. Now we can check out these rumors and get back home.”
A harsh wind whistled down the canyon, moaning through the minarets of Jabba’s palace. The high observation towers had open black windows, like gaps in a grinning skull. Han looked up and saw blaster scoring on