Star Wars_ Darksaber - Kevin J. Anderson [7]
“Looks like you stopped distracting ’em too soon, kid,” Han said, diving toward the partially open door. “Must have seen our tracks.”
“I guess this door is open enough,” Luke said and scrambled into the shadows beside Han. “Now if only I can figure out how to close it …”
More blaster bolts struck the door, making the musty corridors echo and thrum. The Sand People jabbered with rage, and their banthas made loud sounds as they churned around the door.
Luke found the inner door controls and grabbed at a bunch of the twisted and corroded wires. A single hopeless spark flickered out, then the entire control panel went dead.
“Better do something quick, Luke!” Han said, crouching down with his blaster pistol.
One of the Sand People fired into the interior shadows; the energy bolt ricocheted on the flagstone floor, bouncing into the darkness behind Han and Luke. Han fired his own blaster at the bandaged feet he could see. One of the Tusken Raiders yowled and leaped backward.
Luke gave up on the control panel and stood with his hands hanging at his sides. His fists clenched, then relaxed as he concentrated on the Force.
The tracks groaned as he moved the mechanisms holding the heavy door in place. Suddenly, with a thunderous clang, it crashed down, belching up clouds of old dust and engulfing the hall in darkness.
“Well, that was fun,” Han said. “Don’t suppose you remembered to bring along a portable glowlamp?”
Luke reached into the folds of his robe. “A Jedi always comes prepared,” he said and removed his lightsaber, pushing the activation button. With a snap-hiss the vibrant green blade spilled out, a rod of incandescent light that made Han shield his eyes. “Not the most impressive use I’ve ever made of my lightsaber,” Luke commented, “but it’ll do.”
The two crept deeper into the winding catacombs of the palace toward Jabba’s throne room. They didn’t quite know what they were looking for, but both were confident they’d spot something amiss.
“It didn’t look that much better when Jabba lived here,” Luke said.
“Maybe all the housekeeping droids broke down,” Han said.
Inside the abandoned main throne room where the bloated Hutt had pronounced judgment on his helpless victims, Luke’s lightsaber illuminated the walls with a glare that made the shadows jump and ripple. Scavengers, small and large, made loud noises in the otherwise tomblike room. Pebbles trickled from a loose block in the wall.
“Those weird B’omarr monks are still here in this place,” Han said. “But they don’t look too anxious to reclaim the rooms Jabba used.”
“I’m not sure anyone pretends to understand the B’omarr Order,” Luke answered. “From what I’ve heard, when they reach their greatest state of enlightenment, each monk undergoes some kind of surgery that removes his brain and places it in a life-support jar. It keeps them from being distracted by physical diversions, leaving them to ponder the great mysteries.”
Han snorted and looked into Luke’s pale blue eyes. “Good thing Jedi don’t go for nonsense like that.”
Luke smiled at his friend. “I seem to remember you called the Force a ‘hokey religion’ when I first met you.”
Han looked away, embarrassed. “Well, I’ve gotten smarter since then.”
Sudden mechanical sounds were as loud as distant explosions in the echoing room. The two whirled: Luke with his lightsaber ready, Han pointing his blaster pistol. The whirring servomotors and articulated legs came closer, many feet clicking like ice picks on the flagstone floors. Han felt his skin crawl with remembered revulsion as he thought of the crystalline energy spiders that lived in the black spice mines of Kessel.
But the thing that emerged was neither entirely a droid nor entirely alive—a set of sharp mechanical legs moving, staggering, as if with poor muscular control … an automated steel insect that stumbled into the throne room. And slung under the legs, where the bloated