Artoo-Detoo stood just outside the entrance to the secret Rebel ice hangar, dusted
with a layer of snow that had settled over his plug-shaped body.  His inner timing
mechanisms knew he had waited here a long time and his optical sensor told him that
the sky was dark.
    But the R2 unit was concerned only with his built-in probe-sensors that were still
sending signals across the ice fields.  His long and earnest sensor-search for the
missing Luke Skywalker and Han Solo had not turned up a thing.
    The stout droid began beeping nervously when Threepio approached him,
plodding stiffly through the snow.
    "Artoo," the gold-colored robot inclined the upper half of his form at the hip
joints, "there's nothing more you can do.  You must come inside."  Threepio
straightened to his full height again, simulating a human shiver as the night winds
howled past his gleaming hull.  "Artoo, my joints are freezing up.  Will you
hurry…please?…"  But before he could finish his own sentence, Threepio was
hurrying back toward the hangar entrance.
    Hoth's sky was then entirely black with night, and Princess Leia Organa stood
inside the Rebel base entrance, maintaining a worried vigil.  She shivered in the
night wind as she tried to see into the Hoth darkness.  Waiting near a deeply
concerned Major Derlin, her mind was somewhere out on the ice fields.
    The giant Wookiee sat nearby, his maned head lifting quickly from his hairy
hands as the two droids Threepio and Artoo reentered the hangar.
    Threepio was humanly distraught.  "Artoo has not been able to pick up any
signals," he reported, fretting, "although he feels his range is probably too limited to
cause us to give up hope."  Still, very little confidence could be detected in
Threepio's artificial voice.
    Leia gave the taller droid a nod of acknowledgment, but did not speak.  Her
thoughts were occupied with the pair of missing heroes.  Most disturbing to her was
that she found her mind focused on one of the two: a dark-haired Corellian whose
words were not always to be taken literally.
    As the princess kept watch, Major Derlin turned to acknowledge a Rebel
lieutenant reporting in.  "All patrols are now in except Solo and Skywalker, sir."
    The major looked over at Princess Leia.  "Your Highness," he said, his voice
weighty with regret, "nothing more can be done tonight.  The temperature is
dropping fast.  The shield doors must be closed.  I'm sorry." Derlin waited a
moment, then addressed the lieutenant.  "Close the doors."
    The Rebel officer turned to carry out Derlin's order and immediately the
chamber of ice seemed to drop even more in temperature as the mournful Wookiee
howled his grief.
    "The speeders should be ready in the morning," the major said to Leia.
"They'll make the search easier."
    Not really expecting an affirmative reply, Leia asked, "Is there any chance of
their surviving until the morning?"
    "Slim," Major Derlin answered with grim honesty.  "But yes, there's a chance."
    In response to the major's words, Artoo began to operate the miniature
computers inside his barrel-like metal body, taking only moments to juggle numerous
sets of mathematical computations, and climaxing his figurings with a series of
triumphant beeps.
    "Ma'am," Threepio interpreted, "Artoo says the chances against survival are
seven hundred twenty-five to one."  Then, tilting toward the shorter robot, the
protocol droid grumbled, "Actually, I don't think we needed to know that."
    No one responded to Threepio's translation.  For several prolonged moments
there was a solemn silence, broken only by the echoing clang of metal slamming
against metal: the huge doors of the Rebel base were closed for the night.  It was as
if some heartless deity had officially severed the assembled group from the two men
out on the ice plains and had, with a metallic bang, announced their deaths.
    Chewbacca led out another suffering howl.
    And a silent prayer, often spoken on an erstwhile world called Alderaan, crept
into Leia's thoughts.

    The sun that was creeping over Hoth's northern horizon was relatively dim, but
its light was enough to shed some warmth on the planet's icy surface.  The light
crawled across the rolling hills of snow, fought to reach the darker recesses of the icy
gorges, then finally came to rest on what must have been the only perfect white
mound on the entire world.
    So perfect was the snow-covered mound that it must have owed its existence to
some power other than Nature.  Then, as the sky grew steadily brighter, this mound
began to hum.  Anyone observing the mound now would have been startled as the
snow dome seemed to erupt, sending its snowy outer covering skyward in a great
burst of white particles.  A droning machine began pulling back its retractable sensor
arms, and its awesome bulks slowly rose from its frozen white bed.
    The probe robot paused briefly in the windy air, then continued on its morning
mission across the snow-covered plains.

    Something else had invaded the morning air of the ice world—a relatively small,
snub-nosed craft, with dark cockpit windows and laser guns mounted on each side.
The Rebel snowspeeder was heavily armored and designed for warfare near the
planet's surface.  But this morning the small craft was on a reconnaissance mission,
racing above the expansive white landscape and arcing over the contours of the
snowdrifts.
    Although the snowspeeder was designed for a two-man crew, Zev was the ship's
only occupant.  His eyes took in a panoramic scan of the desolate stretches below,
and he prayed that he would find the objects of his search before he went snow-blind.
    Presently he heard a low beeping signal.
    "Echo Base," he shouted jubilantly into his cockpit comlink, "I've got something!
Not much, but it could be a sign of life.  Sector four-six-one-four by eight-eight0two.
I'm closing in."
    Frantically working the controls of his ship, Zev reduced its speed slightly and
banked the craft over a snowdrift.  He welcomed the sudden G-force pressing him
against his seat and headed the snowspeeder in the direction of the faint signal.
    As the white infinity of Hoth's terrain streaked under him, the Rebel pilot
switched his comlink to a new frequency.  "Echo Three, this is Rogue Two.  Do
you copy?  Commander Skywalker, this is Rogue Two."
    The only reply that came through his comlink receiver was static.
    But then he heard a voice, a very distant-sounding voice, fighting its way
through the crackling noise.  "Nice of you guys to drop by.  Hope we didn't get you
up too early."
    Zev welcomed the characteristic cynicism in Han Solo's voice.  He switched his
transmitter back to the hidden Rebel base.  "Echo Base, this is Rogue Two," he
reported, his voice suddenly rising in pitch.  "I found them.  Repeat…"
    As he spoke, the pilot pulled in a fine-tune fix on the signals winking on his
cockpit monitor screens.  Then he further reduced the speed of his craft, bringing it
down close enough to the planet's surface so that he could better see a small object
standing out against the fleecy plains.
    The object, a portable Rebel-issue shelter, sat atop a snowdrift.  On the shelter's
windward side was a hard-packed layer of white.  And resting gingerly against the
upper part of the snowdrift was a makeshift radio antenna.
    But a more welcome sight than any of this was the familiar human figure
standing in front of the snow shelter, frantically waving his arms at the snowspeeder.
    As Zev dipped his craft for a landing, he felt overwhelmingly grateful that at
least one of the warriors he had been sent out to find was still alive.

    Only a thick glass window separated the battered, near-frozen body of Luke
Skywalker from four of his watchful friends.
    Han Solo, who appreciated the relative warmth of the Rebel medical center, was
standing beside Leia, his Wookiee copilot, Artoo-Detoo, and See-Threepio.  Han
exhaled with relief.  He knew that, despite the grim atmosphere of the chamber
enclosing him, the young commander was finally out of danger and in the best of
mechanical hands.
    Clad only in white shorts, Luke hung in a vertical position inside a transparent
cylinder with a combination breath mask and microphone covering his nose and
mouth.  The surgeon droid, Too-Onebee, was attending to the youth with the skill of
the finest humanoid doctors.  He was aided by his medical assistant droid, FX-7,
which looked like nothing more than a metal-capped set of cylinders, wires, and
appendages.  Gracefully, the surgeon droid worked a switch that brought a gelatinous
red fluid pouring down over his human patient.  This bacta, Han knew, could work
miracles, even with patients in such dire shape as Luke.
    As the bubbling slime encapsulated his body, Luke began to thrash about and
rave deliriously.  "Watch out," he moaned.  "…snow creatures.
Dangerous…Yoda…go to Yoda…only hope."
    Han had not the slightest idea what his friend was raving about.  Chewbacca,
also perplexed by the youth's babbling, expressed himself with an interrogative
Wookiee bark.
    "He doesn't make sense to me either, Chewie," Han replied.
    Threepio commented hopefully, "I do hope he's all there, if you take my
meaning.  It would be most unfortunate if Master Luke were to develop a short
circuit."
    "The kid ran into something," Han observed matter-of-factly, "and it wasn't just
the cold."
    "It's those creatures he keeps talking about," Leia said, looking at the grimly
staring Solo.  "We've doubled the security, Han," she began, tentatively trying to
thank him, "I don't know how—"
    "Forget it," he said brusquely.  Right now he was concerned only with his
friend in the red bacta fluid.
    Luke's body sloshed through the brightly colored substance, the bacta's healing
properties by now taking effect.  For a while it appeared as if Luke were trying to
resist the curative flow of the translucent muck.  Then, at last, he gave up his
mumbling and relaxed, succumbing to the bacta's powers.
    Too-Onebee turned away from the human who had been entrusted to his care.
He angled his skull-shaped head to gaze at Han and the others through the window.
"Commander Skywalker has been in dormo-shock but is responding well to the
bacta," the robot announced, his commanding, authoritative voice heard distinctly
though the glass.  "He is now out of danger."
    The surgeon robot's words immediately wiped away the tension that had seized
the group on the other side of the window.  Leia sighed in relief, and Chewbacca
grunted his approval of Too-Onebee's treatment.
    Luke had no way of estimating how long he had been delirious.  But now he
was in full command of his mind and senses.  He sat up on his bed in the Rebel
medical center.  What a relief, he thought, to be breathing real air again, however
cold it might be.
    A medical droid was removing the protective pad from his healing face.  His
eyes were uncovered and he was beginning to perceive the face of someone standing
by his bed.  Gradually Threepio smiling image of Princess Leia came into focus.
She gracefully moved toward him and gently brushed his hair out of his eyes.
    "The bacta are growing well," she said as she looked at his healing wounds.
"The scars should be gone in a day or so.  Does it still hurt you?"
    Across the room, the door banged open.  Artoo beeped in a cheerful greeting as
he rolled toward Luke, and Threepio clanked noisily toward Luke's bed.  "Master
Luke, it's good to see you functional again."
    "Thanks, Threepio."
    Artoo emitted a series of happy beeps and whistles.
    "Artoo expresses his relief also," Threepio translated helpfully.
    Luke was certainly grateful for the robots' concern.  But before he could reply
to either of the droids, he met with yet another interruption.
    "Hi, kid," Han Solo greeted him boisterously as he and Chewbacca burst into the
medical center.
    The Wookiee growled a friendly greeting.
    "You look strong enough to wrestle a Gundark," Han observed.
    Luke felt that strong, and felt grateful to his friend.  "Thanks to you."
    "That's two you owe me, junior." Han gave the princess a wide, devilish grin.
"Well, Your Worship," he said mockingly, "it looks like you arranged to keep me
close by for a while longer."
    "I had nothing to do with it," Leia said hotly, annoyed at Han's vanity.
"General Rieekan thinks it's dangerous for any ships to leave the system until the
generators are operational."
    "That makes a good story.  But I think you just can't bear to let me out of your
sight."
    "I don't know where you get your delusions, laser brains," she retorted.
    Chewbacca amused by this verbal battle between two of the strongest human
wills he had ever encountered, let out a roaring Wookiee laugh.
    "Laugh it up, fuzz ball," Han said good-naturedly.  "You didn't see us alone in
the south passage."
    Until now, Luke had scarcely listened to this lively exchange.  Han and the
princess had argued frequently enough in the past.  But that reference to the south
passage sparked his curiosity, and he looked at Leia for an explanation.
    "She expressed her true feeling for me," Han continued, delighting in the rosy
flush that appeared on the princess's cheeks.  "Come on, Your Highness, you've
already forgotten."
    "Why, you low-down, stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy-looking nerf-herder…" she
sputtered in fury.
    "Who's scruffy-looking?" he grinned.  "I tell ya, sweetheart, I must've hit
pretty close to the mark to get you hoppin' like this.  Doesn't it look that way to you,
Luke?"
    "Yeah," he said, staring at the princess incredulously, "it does…kind of."
    Leia looked over at Luke with a strange mixture of emotions showing on her
flushed face.  Something vulnerable, almost childlike, was reflected in her eyes for a
moment.  And then the tough mask fell again.
    "Oh, it does, does it?" she said.  "Well, I guess you don't understand everything
about women, do you?"
    Luke agreed silently.  He agreed even more when in the next moment Leia
leaned over and kissed him firmly on the lips.  Then she turned on her heel and
marched across the room, slamming the door behind her.  Everyone in the
room—human, Wookiee, and droid—looked at one another, speechless.
    In the distance, a warning alarm blared through the subterranean corridors.

    General Rieekan and his head controller were conferring in the Revel command
center when Han Solo and Chewbacca burst into the room.  Princess Leia and
Threepio, who had been listening to the general and his officer, turned in anticipation
at their approach.
    A warning signal blared across the chamber from the huge console located
behind Rieekan and monitored by Rebel control officers.
    "General," the sensor controller called.
    Grimly attentive, General Rieekan watched the console screens.  Suddenly he
saw a flashing signal that had not been there a moment before.  "Princess," he said,
"I think we have a visitor."
    Leia, Han, Chewbacca, and Threepio gathered around the general and watched
the beeping monitor screens.
    "We've picked up something outside the base in Zone Twelve.  It's moving
east," said Rieekan.
    "Whatever it is, it's metal," the sensor controller observed.
    Leia's eyes widened in surprise.  "Then it can't be one of those creatures that
attacked Luke?"
    "Could it be ours?" Han asked.  "A speeder?"
    The sensor controller shook his head.  "No, there's no signal."  Then came a
sound from another monitor.  "Wait, something very weak…"
    Walking as rapidly as his stiff joints allowed, Threepio approached the console.
His auditory sensors turned in the strange signals.  "I must say, sir, I'm fluent in over
sixty million forms of communication, but this is something new.  Must be in a code
or—"
    Just then the voice of a Rebel trooper cut in through the console's comlink
speaker.  "This is Echo Station Three-Eight.  Unidentified object is in our scope.
It's just over the ridge.  We should have visual contact in about—"  Without
warning the voice filled with fear.  "What the—?  Oh, no!"
    A burst of radio static followed, then the transmission broke off completely.
    Han frowned.  "Whatever it is," he said, "it isn't friendly.  Let's have a look.
Come on, Chewie."
    Even before Han and Chewbacca were out of the chamber, General Rieekan had
dispatched Rogues Ten and Eleven to Station Three-Eight.

    The mammoth Imperial Star Destroyer occupied a position of deadly prominence
in the Emperor's fleet.  The sleekly elongated ship was larger and even more
ominous than the five wedge-shaped Imperial Star Destroyers guarding it.  Together
these six cruisers were the most dreaded and devastating warships in the galaxy,
capable of reducing to cosmic scrap anything that stayed too close to their weapons.
    Flanking the Star Destroyers were a number of smaller fighter ships and, darting
about this great space armada, were the infamous TIE fighters.
    Supreme confidence reigned in the heart of every crew member in this Imperial
death squadron, especially among the personnel on the monstrous central Star
Destroyer.  But something also blazed within their souls.  Fear—fear of merely the
sound of the familiar heavy footsteps as they echoed through the enormous ship.
Crew members dreaded these footfalls and shuddered whenever they were heard
approaching, brining their much feared, but much respected leader.
    Towering above them in his black cloak and concealing black headgear, Darth
Vader, Dark Lord of Sith, entered the main control deck, and the men around him fell
silent.  In what seemed to be an endless moment, no sound except those from the
ship's control boards and the loud wheezes coming from the ebony figure's metal
breath screen were to be heard.
    As Darth Vader watched the endless array of stars, Captain Piett rushed across
the wide bridge of the ship, carrying a message for the squat, evil-looking Admiral
Ozzel, who was stationed on the bridge.  "I think we've found something, Admiral,"
he announced nervously, looking from Ozzel to the Dark Lord.
    "Yes, Captain?"  The admiral was a supremely confident man who felt relaxed
in the presence of his cloaked superior.
    "The report we have is only a fragment, from a probe droid in the Hoth system.
But it's the best lead we've had in—"
    "We have had thousands of probe droids searching the galaxy," Ozzel broke in
angrily.  "I want proof, not leads.  I don't intend to continue to chase around from
one side of—"
    Abruptly the figure in black approached the two and interrupted.  "You found
something?" he asked, his voice somewhat distorted by the breath mask.
    Captain Piett respectfully gazed at his master, who loomed above him like a
black-robed, omnipotent god.  "Yes, sir," Piett said slowly, choosing his words with
caution.  "We have visuals.  The system is supposed to be devoid of human
forms…"
    But Vader was no longer listening to the captain.  His masked face turned
toward an image beamed on one of the viewscreens—an image of a small squadron of
Rebel snowspeeders streaking above the white fields.
    "That's it," Darth Vader boomed without further deliberation.
    "My lord," Admiral Ozzel protested, "there are so many uncharted settlements.
It could be smugglers—"
    "That is the one!" the former Jedi Knight insisted, clenching a black-gloved fist.
"And Skywalker is with them.  Bring in the patrol ships, Admiral, and set your
course for the Hoth system." Vader looked toward an officer wearing a green uniform
with matching cap.  "General Veers," the Dark Lord addressed him, "prepare your
men."
    As soon as Darth Vader had spoken, his men set about to launch his fearful plan.
    The Imperial Probe Droid raised a large antenna from its buglike head and sent
out a piercing, high-frequency signal.  The robot's scanners had reacted to a lifeform
hidden behind a great dune of snow and noted the appearance of a brown Wookiee
head and the sound of a deep-throated growl.  The blasters that had been built into
the probe robot took aim at the furry giant.  But before the robot had a chance to fire,
a red beam from a hand blaster exploded from behind the Imperial Probe Droid and
nicked its darkly finished hull.
    As he ducked behind a large snow dune, Han Solo noticed Chewbacca still
hidden, and then watched the robot spun around in midair to face him.  So far the
ruse was working and now he was the target.  Han had barely moved out of range as
the floating machine fired, blasting chunks of snow from the edge of his dune.  He
fired again, hitting it square on with the beam of his weapon.  Then he heard a
high-pitched whine coming from the deadly machine, and in an instant the Imperial
Probe Droid burst into a billion or more flaming pieces.

    "…I'm afraid there's not much left,: Han said over the comlink as he concluded
his report to the underground base.
    Princess Leia and General Rieekan were still manning the console where they
had maintained constant communication with Han.  "What is it?" Leia asked.
    "Droid of some kind," he answered.  "I didn't hit it that hard.  It must have had
a self-destruct."
    Leia paused as she considered this unwelcome piece of information.  "An
Imperial droid," she said, betraying some trepidation.
    "If it was," Han warned, "the Empire surely knows we're here."
    General Rieekan shook his head slowly.  "We'd better start to evacuate the
planet."