Star Wars_ Rebel Force 2_ Hostage - Alex Wheeler [8]
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CHAPTER FIVE
Luke strained against the wrist binders. They wouldn't give. He twisted his arms toward his right hip, straining his fingers toward his belt. The men had taken his blaster—but they hadn't thought to search for other weapons. If he could just reach the hilt of his lightsaber…
There!
Luke was about to activate the blade, when he hesitated. It wasn't just the close quarters—he knew he might miss the binders and slice off a limb—it was a feeling, almost an inner voice, urging him to stop.
Have patience. Watch. Wait.
It was the kind of thing Ben might have said—but this wasn't Ben's voice. It came from somewhere deep inside of him. It was less a voice than a certainty that he should allow events to play themselves out.
Is it the Force? Luke wondered.
Or was it just his own fear?
Either way, Luke decided to listen. He still had his lightsaber. When the time came to use it, he would be ready. Until then, he would have patience. Watch.
Wait.
The lid swung open. Luke squinted into the light. Two figures stood over him, silhouetted by the sun, their faces hidden in shadow.
"We don't want to hurt you," the taller one said.
"And we won't—if you come quietly," added the other. "If you don't…" He left the threat unspoken.
"Where are we?" Luke asked.
Instead of answering, they yanked him out of the speeder, holding him upright as his legs buckled. Though his muscles quickly recovered, he let himself sag as they half-pushed, half-dragged him down the narrow path.
Let them believe he was weak.
"You're making a mistake," Luke warned, as they approached a massive building of faceless gray ferrocrete. Several similar structures stood on either side. Luke suspected they'd brought him to the warehouse district. But why? "If you tell me what you want, maybe we can work something out."
"We got what we wanted," the shorter man growled. "You."
Once again, Luke considered going for his lightsaber. Here, the odds were one against two. Not great, since the two had blasters and all he had was a lightsaber he could barely use.
Watch.
Wait.
It defied sense, but Luke trusted his instincts. Just as Ben had instructed him.
The men shoved him into the building. Off balance, he stumbled through the door, toppling forward. They caught him just before he hit the ground and jerked him upright.
Luke gasped.
It was a warehouse, as he'd guessed. But the only thing stored in this warehouse were people.
People everywhere—hundreds of them, perhaps a thousand. Sprawled on thin mats, leaning against the walls, sickly and pale. Huddled under threadbare blankets, fighting over foil-wrapped protein supplements. The building was hundreds of meters wide and at least six stories high, with landings on each level circling a wide open central area. The thick air stunk of rotting bantha meat.
"What is this place?" Luke whispered, forcing himself not to turn away from all the gaunt, hopeless faces.
"New Alderaan," one of his captors said bitterly. "Home sweet home."
"You can sit."
Luke's captors had shoved him into a small makeshift enclosure, bounded by two hanging sheets and a few thin sheets of plasteel propped against each other. The man facing him had a round face dusted by a reddish gold beard. Laugh lines framed his wide mouth, but the eyes beneath the bushy blond eyebrows shone with sorrow. "I said, sit. "
When Luke didn't move, his captors each put a hand on one of his shoulders, and forced him to the ground. He sat awkwardly, his arms still pinned behind him.
The bearded man glanced at the others. "Leave us."
The short, stocky one frowned. "Nahj, it's not safe."
The seated man gave him a thin smile. "I hardly think he poses much of a threat.
And—" He gave Luke a pointed look. "He knows you'll be standing just outside, blasters at the ready. He's no fool. Are you?"
Luke said nothing.
The men nodded, and slipped out of the lean-to.
"You can call me J'er Nahj," the bearded man