The temperature on the surface of Hoth had dropped.  But despite the frigid air,
the Imperial Probe Droid continued its leisurely drift above the snow-swept fields and
hills, its extended sensors still reaching in all directions for life signs.
    The robot's heat sensors suddenly reacted.  It had found a heat source in the
vicinity, and warmth was a good indication of life.  The head swiveled on its axis,
the sensitive eyelike blisters noting the direction from which the heat source
originated.  Automatically the probe robot adjusted its speed and began to move at
maximum velocity over the icy fields.
    The insectlike machine slowed only when it neared a mound of snow bigger than
the probe droid itself.  The robot's scanners made note of the mound's size—nearly
one-point-eight meters in height and an enormous six meters long.  But the mound's
size was of only secondary importance.  What was truly astounding, if a surveillance
machine could ever be astounded, was the amount of heat radiating from beneath the
mound.  The creature under that snowy hill must surely be well protected against the
cold.
    A thin blue-white beam of light shot from one of the probe robot's appendages,
its intense heat boring into the white mound and scattering gleaming snow flecks in
all directions.
    The mound began to shiver, then to quake.  Whatever existed beneath it was
deeply irritated by the robot's probing laser beam.  Snow began to fall away from the
mound in sizable clumps when, at one end, two eyes showed through the mass of
white.
    Huge yellow eyes peered like twin points of fire at the mechanical creature that
continued to blast away with its painful beams.  The eyes burned with primeval
hatred for the thing that had interrupted its slumber.
    The mound shook again, with a roar that nearly destroyed the probe droid's
auditory sensors.  It zoomed back several meters, widening the space between it and
the creature.  The droid had never before encountered a Wampa Ice Creature; its
computers advised that the beast be dealt with expeditiously.
    The droid made an internal adjustment to regulate the potency of its laser beam.
Less than a moment later the beam was at maximum intensity.  The machine aimed
the laser at the creature, enveloping it in a great flaming and smoking cloud.
Seconds later the few remaining particles of the Wampa were swept away by the icy
winds.
    The smoke disappeared, leaving behind no physical evidence—save for a large
depression in the snow—that an Ice Creature had ever been there.
    But its existence had been properly recorded in the memory of the probe droid,
which was already continued on its programmed mission.

    The roars of another Wampa Ice Creature finally awakened the battered young
Rebel commander.  Luke's head was spinning, aching, perhaps exploding for all he
could tell.  With painstaking effort he brought his vision into focus, discerning that
he was in an ice gorge, its jagged walls reflecting the fading twilight.
    He suddenly realized he was hanging upside down, arms dangling and fingertips
some thirty centimeters from the snowy floor.  His ankles were numb.  He craned
his neck and saw that his feet were frozen in ice hanging from the ceiling and that the
ice was forming on his legs like stalactites.  He could feel the frozen mask of his
own blood caked on his face where the Wampa Ice Creature had viciously slashed
him.
    Again Luke heard the bestial moans, louder now as they resounded through the
deep and narrow passageway of ice.  The roars of the monster were deafening.  He
wondered which would kill him first, the cold or the fangs and claws of the thing that
inhabited the gorge.
    I've got to free myself, he thought, get free of this ice.  His strength had not yet
returned fully, but with a determined effort, he pulled himself up and reached for the
confining bonds.  Still too weak, Luke could not break the ice and fell back into his
hanging position, the white floor rushing up at him.
    "Relax," he said to himself.  "Relax."
    The ice walls creaked with the ever-louder bellows of the approaching creature.
Its feet crunched on the frigid ground, coming frightening nearer.  It would not be
long before the shaggy white horror would be back and possibly warming the cold
young warrior in the darkness of its belly.
    Luke's eyes darted about the gorge, finally spotting the pile of gear he had
brought with him on his mission, now lying in a useless, crumpled heap on the floor.
The equipment was nearly a full, unattainable meter beyond his grasp.  And with that
gear was a device that entirely captured his attention—a stout handgrip unit with a
pair of small switches and a surmounting metal disk.  The object had once belonged
to his father, a former Jedi Knight who had been betrayed and murdered by the young
Darth Vader.  But now it was Luke's, given him by Ben Kenobi to be wielded with
honor against Imperial tyranny.
    In desperation Luke tried twisting his aching body, just enough to reach the
discarded lightsaber.  But the freezing cold coursing through his body slowed him
down and weakened him.  Luke was beginning to resign himself to his fate as he
heard the snarling Wampa Ice Creature approaching.  His last feelings of hope were
nearly gone when he sensed the presence.
    But it was not the presence of the white giant that dominated this gorge.
    Rather, it was that soothing spiritual presence which occasionally visited Luke in
moments of stress or danger.  The presence that had first come to him only after old
Ben, once again in his Jedi role of Obi-wan Kenobi, vanished into a crumple of his
own dark robes after being cut down by Darth Vader's lightsaber.  The presence that
was sometimes like a familiar voice, an almost silent whisper that spoke directly to
Luke's mind.
    "Luke."  The whisper was there again, hauntingly.  "Think of the lightsaber in
your hand."
    The words made Luke's already aching head throb.  Then he felt a sudden
resurgence of strength, a feeling of confidence that urged him to continue fighting
despite his apparently hopeless situation.  His eyes fixed upon the lightsaber.  His
hand reached out painfully, the freezing in his limbs already taking its toll.  He
squeezed his eyes shut in concentration.  But the weapon was still beyond his reach.
He knew that the lightsaber would require more than just struggling to reach.
    "Gotta relax," Luke told himself, "relax…" his disembodied guardian.  "Let the
Force flow, Luke."
    The Force!
    Luke saw the inverted gorillalike image of the Wampa Ice Creature looming, its
raised arms ending in enormous gleaming claws.  He could see the apish face for the
first time now, and shivered at the sight of the beast's ramlike horns, the quivering
lower jaw with its protruding fangs.
    But then the warrior divorced the creature from his thoughts.  He stopped
struggling for his weapon, his body relaxed and went limp, allowing his spirit to be
receptive to his teacher's suggestion.  Already he could feel coursing through him
that energy field generated by all living beings, that bound the very universe together.
    As Kenobi had taught him, the Force was within Luke to use as he saw fit.
    The Wampa Ice Creature spread its black, hooked claws and lumbered toward
the hanging youth.  Suddenly the lightsaber, as if by magic, sprang to Luke's hand.
Instantly, he depressed a colored button on the weapon, releasing a blade-like beam
that quickly severed his icy bonds.
    As Luke, weapon in hand, dropped to the floor, the monstrous figure towering
over him took a cautious step backward.  The beast's sulfurous eyes blinked
incredulously at the humming lightshaft, a sight baffling to its primitive brain.
    Though it was difficult to move, Luke jumped to his feet and waved his
lightsaber at the snow-white mass of muscle and hair, forcing it back a step, another
step.  Brining the weapon down, Luke cut through the monster's hide with the blade
of light.  The Wampa Ice Creature shrieked, its hideous roar of agony shaking the
gorge walls.  It turned and hastily lumbered out of the gorge, its white bulk blending
with the distant terrain.
    The sky was already noticeably darker, and with the encroaching darkness came
the colder winds.  The Force was with Luke, but even that mysterious power could
not warm him now.  Every step he took as he stumbled out of the gorge was more
difficult than the last.  Finally, his vision dimming as rapidly as the daylight, Luke
stumbled down an embankment of snow and was unconscious before he even reached
the bottom.

    In the subsurface main hangar dock, Chewie was getting the Millennium Falcon
ready for takeoff.  He looked up from his work to see a rather curious pair of figures
that had just appeared from around a nearby corner to mingle with the usual Rebel
activity in the hangar.
    Neither of these figures was human, although one of them had a humanoid shape
and gave the impression of a man in knightly golden armor.  His movement were
precise, almost too precise to be human, as he clanked stiffly through the corridor.
His companion required no manlike legs for locomotion, for he was doing quite well
rolling his shorter, barrellike body along on miniature wheels.
    The shorter of the two droids was beeping and whistling excitedly.
    "It's not my fault, you malfunctioning tin can," the tall, anthropomorphic droid
stated, gesturing with a metallic hand.  "I did not ask you to turn on the thermal
heater.  I merely commented that it was freezing in her chamber.  But it's supposed
to be freezing.  How are we going to get all her things dried out?  …Ah!  Here we
are."
    See-Threepio, the golden droid in human shape, paused to focus his optical
sensors on the docked Millennium Falcon.
    The other robot, Artoo-Detoo, retracted his wheels and frontal leg, and rested his
stout metal body on the ground.  The smaller droid's sensors were reading the
familiar figures of Han Solo and his Wookiee companion as those two continued the
work of replacing the freighter's central lifters.
    "Master Solo, sir," Threepio called, the only one of the robotic twosome
equipped with an imitation human voice.  "Might I have a word with you?"
    Han was not particularly in a mood to be disturbed, especially by this fastidious
droid.  "What is it?"
    "Mistress Leia has been trying to reach you on the communicator," Threepio
informed him.  "It must be malfunctioning."
    But Han knew that it was not.  "I shut it off," he said sharply as he continued to
work on his ship.  "What does her royal holiness want?"
    Threepio's auditory sensors identified the disdain in Han's voice but did not
understand it.  The robot mimicked a human gesture as he added, "She is looking for
Master Luke and assumed he would be here with you.  No one seems to know—"
    "Luke's not back yet?"  Immediately Han became concerned.  He could see
that the sky beyond the ice cavern entrance had grown considerably darker since he
and Chewbacca had begun to repair the Millennium Falcon. Han knew just how
severely the temperatures dropped on the surface after nightfall and how deadly the
winds could be.
    In a flash he jumped off the Falcon's lift, not even looking back toward the
Wookiee.  "Bolt it down, Chewie.  Officer of the Deck!" Han yelled, then brought
his comlink to his mouth and asked, "Security Control, has Commander Skywalker
reported in yet?"  A negative reply brought a scowl to Han's face.
    The deck sergeant and his aide hurried up to Solo in response to his summons.
    "Is Commander Skywalker back yet?" Han asked, tension in his voice.
    "I haven't seen him," the deck sergeant replied.  "It's possible he came in
through the south entrance."
    "Check on it!" Solo snapped, though he was not in an official position to give
commands.  "It's urgent."
    As the deck sergeant and his aide turned and rushed down the corridor, Artoo
emitted a concerned whistle that rose inquiringly in pitch.
    "I don't know, Artoo," Threepio answered, stiffly turning his upper torso and
head in Han's direction.  "Sir, might I inquire what's going on?"
    Anger welled up inside Han as he grunted back at the robot, "Go tell your
precious princess that Luke is dead unless he shows up soon."
    Artoo began to whistle hysterically at Solo's grim prediction and his
now-frightened golden partner exclaimed, "Oh, no!"
    The main tunnel was filled with activity when Han Solo rushed in.  he saw a
pair of Rebel troopers employing all their physical strength to restrain a nervous
Tauntaun that was trying to break free.
    From the opposite end, the deck officer rushed into the corridor, his eyes darting
around the chamber until he had spotted Han.  "Sir," he said frantically,
"Commander Skywalker hasn't come through the south entrance.  He might have
forgotten to check in."
    "Not likely," Han snapped.  "Are the speeders ready?"
    "Not yet," the deck officer answered.  "Adapting them to the cold is proving
difficult.  Maybe by morning—"
    Han cut him off.  There wasn't any time to waste on machines that could and
probably would break down.  "We'll have to go out on Tauntauns.  I'll take sector
four."
    "The temperature is falling too rapidly."
    "You bet it is," Han growled, "and Luke's out in it."
    The other officer volunteered, "I'll cover sector twelve.  Have control set screen
alpha."
    But Han knew there was no time for control to get its surveillance cameras
operating, not with Luke probably dying somewhere on the desolate plains above.
He pushed his way through the assemblage of Rebel troops and took the reins of one
of the trained Tauntauns, leaping onto the creature's back.
    "The night storms will start before any of you can reach the first marker," the
deck officer warned.
    "Then I'll see you in hell," grunted Han, tugging the reins of his mount and
maneuvering the animal out of the cave.

    Snow was falling heavily as Han Solo raced his Tauntaun through the wilderness.
Night was near and the winds were howling fiercely, piercing his heavy clothes.  He
knew that he would be as useless as an icicle to Luke unless he found the young
warrior soon.
    The Tauntaun was already feeling the effects of the temperature drop.  Not even
its layers of insulating fat or the matted gray fur could protect it from the elements
after nightfall.  Already the beast was wheezing, its breathing becoming increasingly
labored.
    Han prayed that the snow-lizard wouldn't drop, at least not until he had located
Luke.
    He drove his mount harder, forcing it on across the icy plains.

    Another figure was moving across the snow, its metal body hovering above the
frozen ground.
    The Imperial Probe Droid paused briefly in mid-flight, its sensors twitching.
    Then, satisfied with its findings, the robot gently lowered itself, coming to rest
on the ground.  Like spider legs, several probes separated from the metal hull,
dislodging some of the snow that had settled there.
    Something began to take shape around the robot, a pulsating glow that gradually
covered the machine as if with a transparent dome.  Quickly this force field
solidified, repelling the blowing snow that brushed over the droid's hull.
    After a moment the glow faded, and the blowing snow soon formed a perfect
dome of white, completely concealing the droid and its protective force field.

    The Tauntaun was racing at maximum speed, certainly too fast considering the
distance it had traveled and the unbearable frigid air.  No longer wheezing, it had
begun moaning pitifully, and its legs were becoming more and more unsteady.  Han
felt sorry about the Tauntaun's pain, but at present the creature's life was only
secondary to that of his friend Luke.
    It was becoming difficult for Han to see through the thickening snowfall.
Desperate, he searched for some interruption in the eternal plains, some distant spot
that might actually be Luke.  But there was nothing to see other than the darkening
expanses of snow and ice.
    Yet there was a sound.
    Han drew the reins in, bringing the Tauntaun to an abrupt halt on the plain.
Solo could not be certain, but there seemed to be some sound other than the howling
of the winds that whipped past him.  He strained to look in the direction of the
sound.
    Then he spurred his Tauntaun, forcing it to gallop across the snow-swept field.

    Luke could have been a corpse, food for the scavengers, by the time the light of
dawn returned.  But somehow he was still alive, though barely, and struggling to stay
that way even with the night storms violently assaulting him.  Luke painfully pulled
himself upright from the snow, only to be blasted back down by the freezing gale.
As he fell he considered the irony of it all—a farm boy from Tatooine maturing to
battle the Death Star, now perishing alone in a frozen alien wasteland.
    It took all of Luke's remaining strength to drag himself a half meter before
finally collapsing, sinking into the ever-deepening drifts.  "I can't…" he said, though
no one could hear his words.
    But someone, though still unseen, had heard.
    "You must."  The words vibrated in Luke's mind.  "Luke, look at me!"
    Luke could not ignore that command; the power of those softly spoken words
was too great.
    With a great effort, Luke lifted his head and saw what he thought was a
hallucination.  In front of him, apparently unaffected by the cold and still clad only
in the shabby robes he had worn in the hot desert of Tatooine, stood Ben Kenobi.
    Luke wanted to call out to him, but he was speechless.
    The apparition spoke with the same gentle authority Ben had always used with
the young man.  "You must survive, Luke."
    The young commander found the strength to move his lips again.  "I'm
cold…so cold…"
    You must go to the Dagobah system," the spectral figure of Ben Kenobi
instructed.  "You will learn from Yoda, the Jedi Master, the one who taught me."
    Luke listened, then reached to touch the ghostly figure.  "Ben…Ben…" he
groaned.
    The figure remained unmoved by Luke's efforts to reach it.  "Luke," it spoke
again, "you're our only hope."
    Our only hope.
    Luke was confused.  Yet before he could gather the strength to ask for an
explanation, the figure began to fade.  And when every trace of the apparition had
passed from his sight, Luke thought he saw the approach of a Tauntaun with a human
rider on its back.  The snow-lizard was approaching, its gait unsteady.  The rider
was still too far away, too obscured by the storm for identification.
    In desperation the young Rebel commander called out, "Ben?!" before again
dropping off into unconsciousness.

    The snow-lizard was barely able to stand on its saurian hind legs when Han Solo
reined it to a stop and dismounted.
    Han looked with horror at the snow-covered, almost frozen form lying as if dead
at his feet.
    "Come on, buddy," he appealed to Luke's inert figure, immediately forgetting his
own nearly frozen body,  "you aren't dead yet.  Give me a signal here."
    Han could detect no sign of life, and noticed that Luke's face, nearly covered
with snow, was savagely torn.  He rubbed at the youth's face, being careful not to
touch the drying wounds.  "Don't' do this, Luke.  It's not your time."
    Finally a slight response.  A low moan, barely audible over the winds, was
strong enough to send a warm glow through Han's own shivering body.  He grinned
with relief.  "I knew you wouldn't leave me out here all alone!  We've got to get
you out of here."
    Knowing that Luke's salvation—and his own—lay in the speed of the Tauntaun,
Han moved toward the beast, carrying the young warrior limply in his arms.  But
before he could drape the unconscious form over the animal's back, the snow-lizard
gave an agonized roar, then fell into a shaggy gray heap on the snow.  Laying his
companion down, Han rushed to the side of the fallen creature.  The Tauntaun made
one final sound, not a roar or bellow but only a sickly rasp.  Then the beast was
silent.
    Solo gripped the Tauntaun's hide, his numbed fingers searching for even the
slightest indication of life.  "Deader than a Triton moon," he said, knowing that Luke
did not hear a word.  "We haven't got much time."
    Resting Luke's motionless form against the belly of the dead snow-lizard, Han
proceeded to work.  It might be something of a sacrilege, he mused, using a Jedi
Knight's favorite weapon like this, but right now Luke's lightsaber was the most
efficient and precise tool to cut through the thick skin of a Tauntaun.
    At first the weapon felt strange in his hand, but momentarily he was cutting the
animal's carcass from hairy head to scaly hind paws.  Han winced at the foul odor
that rose from the steaming incision.  There were few things he could remember that
stank like a snow-lizard's innards.  Without deliberation he tossed the slippery
entrails into the snow.
    When the animal's corpse had been entirely eviscerated, Han shoved his friend
inside the warm, hair-covered skin.  "I know this doesn't smell so good, Luke, but
it'll keep you from freezing.  I'm sure this Tauntaun wouldn't hesitate if it were the
other way around."
    From the body of the snow-lizard, another blast of entrail-stench rose out of the
disemboweled cavity.  "Whew!" Han almost gagged.  "It's just as well you're out
cold, pal."
    There wasn't much time left to do what had to be done.  Han's freezing hands
went to the supply pack strapped to the Tauntaun's back and rummaged through the
Rebel-issue items until he located the shelter container.
    Before unpacking it, he spoke into his comlink.  "Echo Base, do you copy?"
    No response.
    "This comlink is useless!"
    The sky had darkened ominously and the winds blew violently, making even
breathing close to impossible.  Han fought to open the shelter container and stiffly
began to construct the one piece of Rebel equipment that might protect them both—if
only for a short while longer.
    "If I don't get this shelter up fast," he grumbled to himself, "Jabba won't need
those bounty hunters."