As they traveled father and deeper into the bowels of the gigantic station, they found
it increasingly difficult to maintain an air of casual indifference.  Fortunately, those
who might have sensed some nervousness on the part of the two armored troopers
would regard it as only natural, considering their huge, dangerous Wookie captive.
Chewbacca also made it impossible for the two young men to be as inconspicuous as
they would have liked.
    The farther they traveled, the heavier the traffic became.  Other soldiers,
bureaucrats, technicians, and mechanicals bustled around them.  Intent on their own
assignments, they ignored the trio completely, only a few of the humans sparing the
Wookie a curious glance.  Chewbacca's morose expression and the seeming
confidence of his captors reassured the inquisitive.
    Eventually they reached a wide bank of elevators.  Luke breathed a sigh of
relief.  The computer-controlled transport ought to be capable of taking them just
about anywhere on the station in response to a verbal command.
    There was a nervous second when a minor official raced to get aboard.  Solo
gestured sharply, and the other, without voicing a protest, shifted to the next elevator
tube in line.
    Luke studied the operating panel, then tried to sound at once knowledgeable and
important as he spoke into the pickup grid.  Instead, he sounded nervous and scared,
but the elevator was a pure-response mechanism, not programmed to differentiate the
appropriateness of emotions conveyed vocally.  So the door slid shut and they were
on their way.  After what felt like hours but was in reality only minutes, the door
opened and they stepped out into the security area.
    It had been Luke's hope they would discover something like the old-fashioned
barred cells of the kind used on Tatooine in towns like Mos Eisley.  Instead, they saw
only narrow ramps bordering a bottomless ventilation shaft.  These walkways,
several levels of them, ran parallel to smooth curving walls which held faceless
detention cells.  Alert-looking guards and energy gates seemed to be everywhere
they looked.
    Uncomfortably aware that the longer they stood frozen in place, the sooner
someone was bound to come over and ask unanswerable questions, Luke searched
frantically for a course of action.
    "This isn't going to work," Solo whispered, leaning toward him.
    "Why didn't you say so before?" a frustrated, frightened Luke shot back.
    "I think I did.  I—"
    "Shssh!"
    Solo shuts up Luke's worst fears were realized.  A tall, grim-looking officer
approached them.  He frowned as he examined the silent Chewbacca.
    "Where are you two going with this—thing?"
    Chewbacca snarled at the remark, and Solo quieted him with a hasty jab in the
ribs.  A panicky Luke found himself replying almost instinctively.  "Prisoner
transfer from block TS-138."
    The officer looked puzzled.  "I wasn't notified.  I'll have to clear it."
    Turning, the man walked to a small console nearby and began entering his
request.  Luke and Han hurriedly surveyed the situation, their gaze traveling from
alarms, energy gates, and remote photosensors to the three other guards station in the
area.
    Solo nodded to Luke as he unfastened Chewbacca's cuffs.  Then he whispered
something to the Wookie.  An ear-splitting howl shook the corridor as Chewbacca
threw up both hands, grabbing Solo's rifle from him.
    "Look out!" a seemingly terrified Solo shouted.  "It's loose.  It'll rip us all
apart!"
    both he and Luke had darted clear of the rampaging Wookie, pulled out their
pistols, and were blasting away at him.  Their reaction was excellent, their
enthusiasm undeniable, and their aim execrable.  Not a single shot came close to the
dodging Wookie.  Instead, they blasted automatic cameras, energy-rate controls, and
the three dumbfounded guards.
    At this point it occurred to the officer in charge that the abominable aim of the
two soldiers was a bit too selectively efficient.  He was preparing to jab the general
alarm when a burst from Luke's pistol caught him in the midsection and he fell
without a word to the gray deck.
    Solo rushed to the open comlink speaker, which was screeching anxious
questions about what was going on.  Apparently there were audio as well as visual
links between this detention station and elsewhere.
    Ignoring the barrage of alternate threats and queries, he checked the readout set
in the panel nearby.  "We've got to find out which cell this Princess of yours is in.
There must a dozen levels and—Here it is.  Cell 2187.  Go on—Chewie and I'll
hold them here."
    Luke nodded once and was racing down the narrow walkway.
    After gesturing for the Wookie to take up a position where he could cover the
elevators, Solo took a deep breath and responded to the unceasing calls from the
comlink.
    "Everything's under control," he said into the pickup, sounding reasonably
official.  "Situation normal."
    "It didn't sound like that," a voice snapped back in a no-nonsense tone.  "What
happened?"
    "Uh, well, one of the guards experienced a weapon malfunction," Solo
stammered, his temporary officialese lapsing into nervousness.  "No problem now—
we're all fine, thanks.  How about you?"
    "We're sending a squad up," the voice announced suddenly.
    Han could almost smell the suspicion at the other end.  What to say?  He
spoke more eloquently with the business end of a pistol.
    "Negative—negative.  We have an energy leak—very dangerous."
    "Weapon malfunction, energy leak…Who is this?  What's your operating—?"
    Pointing his pistol at the panels, Solo blew the instrumentation to silent scraps.
"It was a dumb conversation anyway," he murmured.  Turning, he shouted down the
corridor.  "Hurry it up.  Luke! We're going to have company."
    Luke heard, but he was absorbed in running from one cell to the next and
studying the numbers glowing above each doorway.  The cell 2187, it appeared, did
not exist.  But it did, and he found it just as he was about to give up and try the next
level down.
    For a long moment he examined the featureless convex metal wall.  Turning his
pistol to maximum and hoping it wouldn't melt in his hand before it broke through, he
opened fire on the door.  When the weapon became too hot to hold, he tossed it from
hand to hand.  As he did so the smoke had time to clear, and he saw with some
surprise that the door had been blown away.
    Peering through the smoke with an uncomprehending look on her face was the
young woman whose portrait Artoo Detoo had projected in a garage on Tatooine
several centuries ago, or it seemed.
    She was even more beautiful than her image, Luke decided, staring dazedly at
her.  "You're even—more beautiful—than I—"
    Her look of confusion and uncertainty was replaced by first puzzlement and then
impatience.  "Aren't you a littler short for a storm trooper?" she finally commented.
    "What?  Oh—the uniform."  He removed the helmet, regaining a little
composure at the same time.  "I've come to rescue you.  I'm Luke Skywalker."
    "I beg your pardon?" she said politely.
    "I said, I've come to rescue you.  Ben Kenobi is with me.  We've got your
two 'droids—"
    The uncertainty was instantly replaced by hope at the mention of the oldster's
name.  "Ben Kenobi!"  She looked around Luke, ignoring him as she searched for
the Jedi.  "Where is he? Obi-wan!"

    Governor Tarkin watched as Darth Vader paced rapidly back and forth in the
otherwise empty conference room.  Finally the Dark Lord paused, glancing around
as though a great bell only he could hear had rung somewhere close by.
    "He is here," Vader stated unemotionally.
    Tarkin looked startled.  "Obi-wan Kenobi!  That's impossible.  What makes
you think so?"
    "A stirring in the force, of a kind I've felt only in the presence of my old master.
It is unmistakable."
    "Surely—surely he must be dead by now."
    Vader hesitated, his assurance suddenly gone.  "Perhaps…It is gone now.  It
was only a brief sensation."
    "The Jedi are extinct," declared Tarkin positively.  "Their fire was quenched
decades ago.  You, my friend, are all that's left of their ways."
    A comlink buzzed softly for attention.  "Yes?" Tarkin acknowledged.
    "We have an emergency alert in detention block AA-23."
    "The Princess!" Tarkin yelped, jumping to his feet.  Vader whirled, trying to
stare through the walls.
    "I know it—Obi-wan is here.  I knew I could not mistake a stirring in the force
of such power."
    "Put all sections on alert," Tarkin ordered through the comlink.  Then he turned
to stare at Vader.  "If you're right, he must not be allowed to escape."
    "Escape may not be Obi-wan Kenobi's intention," Vader replied, struggling to
control his emotions.  "He is the last of the Jedi—and the greatest.  The danger he
presents to us must not be underestimated—yet only I can deal with him."  His head
snapped around to stare fixedly at Tarkin.  "Alone."

    Luke and Leia had started back up the corridor when a series of blinding
explosion ripped the walkway ahead of them.  Several troopers had tried coming
through the elevator, only to be crisped one after another by Chewbacca.  Disdaining
the elevators, they had blasted a gaping hole through a wall.  The opening was too
large for Solo and the Wookie to cover completely.  In twos and threes, the Imperials
were working their way into the detention block.
    Retreating down the walkway, Han and Chewbacca encountered Luke and the
Princess.  "We can't go back that way!"  Solo told them, his face flushed with
excitement and worry.
    "No, it looks like you've managed to cut off our only escape route," Leia agreed
readily.  "This is a detention area, you know.  They don't build them with multiple
exits."
    Breathing heavily, Solo turned to look her up and down.  "Begging your
forgiveness, Your Highness," he said sarcastically, "but maybe you'd prefer it back in
your cell?"  She looked away, her face impassive.
    "There's got to be another way out," Luke muttered, pulling a small transmitter
unit from his belt and carefully adjusting the frequency: "See Threepio…See
Threepio!"
    a familiar voice responded with gratifying speed.  "Yes, sir?"
    "We've been cut off here.  Are there any other ways out of the detention area—
anything at all?"
    Static crackled over the tiny grid as Solo and Chewbacca kept the imperial troops
bottled up at the other end of the walkway.
    "What was that…?  I didn't copy."
    Back in the gentry office Artoo Detoo beeped and whistled frantically as
Threepio adjusted controls, fighting to clear the awkward transmission.  "I said, all
systems have been alerted to your presence, sir.  The main entry seems to be the only
way in or out of the cell block."  He pressed instruments, and the view on the nearby
readouts changed steadily.  "All other information on your section is restricted."
    Someone began banging on the locked door to the office—evenly at first and
then, when no response was forthcoming from within, more insistently.
    "Oh, no!" Threepio groaned.
    The smoke in the cell corridor was now so intense that it was difficult for Solo
and Chewbacca to pick their targets.  That was fortunate inasmuch as they were now
badly outnumbered and the smoke confused the Imperials' fire with equal
thoroughness.
    Every so often one of the soldiers would attempt to move closer, only to stand
exposed as he penetrated the smoke.  Under the accurate fire of the two smugglers,
he would rapidly join the accumulating mass of motionless figures on the rampway
flooring.
    Energy bolts continued to ricochet wildly through the block as Luke moved close
to Solo.
    "There isn't other way out." he yelled over the deafening roar of concentrated
fire.
    "Well, they're closing in on us.  What do we do now?"
    "This is some rescue," an irritated voice complained from behind them.  Both
men turned to see a thoroughly disgusted Princess eyeing them with regal disapproval.
"When you came in here, didn't you have a plan of getting out?"
    Solo nodded toward Luke.  "He's the brains, sweetheart."
    Luke managed an embarrassed grin and shrugged helplessly.  He turned to help
return fire, but before he could do so, the Princess had snatched the pistol from his
hand.
    "Hey!"
    Luke stared as she moved along the wall, finally locating a small grate nearby.
She pointed the pistol at it and fired.
    Solo gazed at her in disbelief.  "What do you think you're doing?"
    "It looks like it's up to me to save our skins.  Get into the garbage chute,
flyboy!"
    While the others looked on in amazement, she jumped feet first into the opening
and disappeared.  Chewbacca rumbled threateningly, but Solo slowly shook his head.
    "No, Chewie, I don't want you to rip her apart.  I'm not sure about her yet.
Either I'm beginning to like her, or I'm going to kill her myself."  The Wookie
snorted something else, and Solo yelled back at him, "Go on in, you furry oaf!  I
don't care what you smell.  This is no time to go dainty on me."
    Shoving the reluctant Wookie toward the tiny opening, Solo helped jam the
massive bulk through.  As soon as he disappeared, the Corellian followed him in.
Luke fired off the last series of blasts, more in the hope of creating a covering smoke
than hitting anything, slid into the chute, and was gone.
    Not wanting to incur further losses in such a confined space, the pursuing
soldiers had momentarily halted to await the arrival of reinforcements and heavier
weapons.  Besides, they had their quarry trapped, and despite their dedication, none
of them were anxious to die needlessly.
    The chamber Luke tumbled into was dimly lit.  not that the light was needed to
discern its contents.  He smelled the decay long before he was dumped into it.
Unadorned except for the concealed illuminants, the garbage room was at least a
quarter full of slimy muck, much of which had already achieved a state of
decomposition sufficient to wrinkle Luke's nose.
    Solo was stumbling around the edge of the room, slipping and sinking up to his
knees in the uncertain footing in an attempt to locate an exit.  Al he found was a
small, thick hatchway, which he grunted and heaved to pry open.  The hatchcover
refused to budge.
    "The garbage chute was a wonderful idea," he told the Princess sardonically,
wiping the sweat from his forehead.  "What an incredible smell you've discovered.
Unfortunately, we can't ride out here on a drifting odor, and there doesn't seem to be
any other exit.  Unless I can get this hatch open."
    Stepping back, he pulled his pistol and fired at the cover.  The bolt promptly
went howling around the room as everyone sought cover in the garbage.  A last
glance and the bolt detonated almost on top of them.
    Looking less dignified by the moment, Leia was the first to emerge from the
pungent cover.  "Put that thing away," she told Solo grimly, "or you're going to get
us all killed."
    "Yes, Your Worship," Solo muttered in snide supplication.  He made no move
to reholster his weapon as he glanced back up toward the open chute above.  "It
won't take long for them to figure out what happened to us.  We had things well
under control—until you led us down here."
    "Sure you did," she shot back, brushing refuse from her hair and shoulders.
"Oh, well, it could be worse…"
    As if in reply, a piercing, horrible moaning filled the room.  It seemed to come
from somewhere beneath them.  Chewbacca let out a terrified yowl of his own and
tried to flatten himself against a wall.  Luke drew his own pistol and peered hard at
various clumps of debris, but saw nothing.
    "What was that?" Solo asked.
    "I'm not too sure." Luke suddenly jumped, looking down and behind him.
"Something just moved past me, I think.  Watch out—"
    With shocking suddenness Luke disappeared straight down into the garbage.
    "It's got Luke!" the Princess shouted.  "It took him under!"  Solo looked
around frantically for something to shoot at.
    As abruptly as he had vanished, Luke reappeared—and so did part of something
else.  A thick whitish tentacle was wrapped tight around his throat.
    "Shoot it, kill it!" Luke screamed.
    "Shoot it!  I can't even see it," Solo protested.
    Once again Luke was sucked under by whatever that gruesome appendage was
attached to.  Solo stared helplessly around the multicolored surface.
    There was a distant rumble of heavy machinery, and two opposing walls of the
chamber moved inward several centimeters.  The rumble ceased and then it was
quiet again.  Luke appeared unexpectedly close to Solo, scrabbling his way clear of
the suffocating mess and rubbing at the welt on his neck.
    "What happened to it?" Leia wondered, eyeing the quiescent garbage warily.
    Luke looked genuinely puzzled.  "I don't know.  It had me—and then I was
free.  It just let me go and disappeared.  Maybe I didn't smell bad enough for it."
    "I've got a very bad feeling about this," Solo murmured.
    Again the distant rumble filled the room; again the walls began their inward
march.  Only this time neither sound nor movement showed any sign of stopping.
    "Don't just stand there gaping at each other!" the Princess urged them.  "Try to
brace them with something.
    Even with the thick poles and old metal beams Chewbacca could handle, they
were unable to find anything capable of slowing the walls' advance.  It seemed as if
the stronger the object was that they placed against the walls, the easier it was
snapped.  Luke pulled out his comlink, simultaneously trying to talk and will the
walls to retreat.  "Threepio…come in, Threepio!"  A decent paused produced no
response, causing Luke to look worriedly at his companions.
    "I don't know why he doesn't answer."  He tried again.  "See Threepio, come
in.  Do you read?"

    "See Threepio," the muted voice continued to call, "come in, See Threepio."  It
was Luke's voice and it issued softly in between buzzings from the small hand
comlink resting on the deserted computer console.  Save for the intermittent pleading,
the gantry office was silent.
    A tremendous explosion drowned out the muffled pleadings.  It blew the office
door clean across the room, sending metal fragments flying in all directions.  Several
of them struck the comlink, sending it flying to the floor and cutting off Luke's voice
in midtransmission.
    In the wake of the minor cataclysm four armed and ready troopers entered
through the blown portal.  Initial study indicated the office was deserted—until a
dim, frightened voice was heard coming from one of the tall supply cabinets near the
back of the room.
    "Help, help!  Let us out!"
    Several of the troopers bent to inspect the immobile bodies of the gantry officer
and his aide while others opened the noisy cabinet.  Two robots, one tall and
humanoid, the other purely mechanical and three-legged, stepped out into the office.
The taller one gave the impression of being half unbalanced with fear.
    "They're madmen, I tell you, madmen!"  He gestured urgently toward the
doorway.  "I think they said something about heading for the prison level.  They
just left.   If you hurry, you might catch them.  That way, that way!"
    Two of the troopers inside joined those waiting in the hallway in hustling off
down the corridor.  That left two guards to watch over the office.  They totally
ignored the robots as they discussed what might have taken place.
    "All the excitement has overloaded the circuitry in my companion here,"
Threepio explained carefully.  "If you don't mind, I'd like to take him down to
Maintenance."
    "Hmmm?" One of the guards looked up indifferently and nodded to the robot.
Threepio and Artoo hurried out the door without looking back.  As they departed it
occurred to the guard that the taller of the two 'droids was of a type he had never seen
before.  He shrugged.  That was not surprising on a station of this size.
    "That was too close," Threepio muttered as they scurried down an empty
corridor.  "Now we'll have to find another information-control console and plug you
back in, or everything is lost."

    The garbage chamber grew remorselessly smaller, the smoothly fitting metal
walls moving toward one another with stolid precision.  Larger pieces of refuse
performed a concerto of snapping and popping that was rising toward a final
shuddering crescendo.
    Chewbacca whined pitifully as he fought with all his incredible strength and
weight to hold back one of the walls, looking like a hirsute Tantalus approaching his
final summit.
    "One thing's for sure," Solo noted unhappily.  "We're all going to be much
thinner.  This could prove popular for slimming .  The only trouble is its
permanence."
    Luke paused for breath, shaking the innocent comlink angrily.  "What could
have happened to Threepio?"
    "Try the hatch again," advised Leia.  "It's our only hope."
    Solo shielded his eyes and did so.  The ineffectual blast echoed mockingly
through the narrowing chamber.

    The service bay was unoccupied, everyone apparently having been drawn away
by the commotion elsewhere.  After a cautious survey of the room Threepio
beckoned for Artoo to follow.  Together they commenced a hurried search of the
many service panels.  Artoo let out a beep, and Threepio rushed to him.  He waited
impatiently as the smaller unit plugged the receptive arm carefully into the open
socket.
    A superfast flurry of electronics spewed in undisciplined fashion from the grid of
the little 'droid.  Threepio made cautioning motions.
    "Wait a minute, slow down!"  The sounds dropped to a crawl.  "That's better.
They're where?  They what?  Oh, no!  They'll only come out of there as liquid!"

    Less than a meter of life was left to the trapped occupants of the garbage room.
Leia and Solo had been forced to turn sideways, had ended up facing each other.  For
the first time the haughtiness was gone from the Princess's face.  Reaching out, she
took Solo's hand, clutching it convulsively as she felt the first touch of the closing
walls.
    Luke had fallen and was lying on his side, fighting to keep his head above the
rising ooze.  He nearly choked on a mouthful of compressed sludge when his
comlink began buzzing for attention.
    "Threepio!"
    "Are you there, sir?" the 'droid replied.  "We've had some minor problems.
You would not believe—"
    "Shut up, Threepio!" Luke screamed into the unit.  "And shut down all the
refuse units on the detention level or immediately below it.  Do you copy?  Shut
down the refuse—"
    Moments later Threepio grabbed at his head in pain as a terrific screeching and
yelling sounded over the comlink.
    "No, shut them all down!" he implored Artoo.  "Hurry!  Oh, listen to them—
they're dying, Artoo!  I curse this metal body of mine.  I was not fast enough.  It
was my fault.  My poor master—all of them…no, no, no!"
    the screaming and yelling, however, continued far beyond what seemed like a
reasonable interval.  In fact, they were shouts of relief.  The chamber walls had
reversed direction automatically with Artoo's shutdown and were moving apart again.
    "Artoo, Threepio," Luke hollered into the comlink, "it's all right, we're all right!
Do you read me?  We're okay—you did just fine."
    Brushing distastefully at the clinging slime, he made his way as rapidly as
possible toward the hatchcover.  Bending, he scraped accumulated detritus away,
noting the number thus revealing.
    "Open the pressure-maintenance hatch on unit 366-117891."
    "Yes, sir," came Threepio's acknowledgment.
    They may have been the happiest words Luke had ever heard.