Star Wars Journal - Captive to Evil by Princess Leia Organa

  Then there is the Wookiee named Chewbacca. He looks like a walking fur coat with mange. But believe me, I was so glad to hear that Artoo had been located that I would have kissed Chewbacca, if I could have found his lips.

  The most insignificant of my rescuers is the Corellian smuggler, Han Solo. Okay, he’s handy in a fight. I give him that. But he counts too much on his handsome looks and big talk. I’ve known him less than a day, and I’ve already figured out that nobody could be as big a fan of Han Solo as Han Solo himself.

  He has no interest in a cause—his honor can be bought and sold. Money is his goal. His ship is as disreputable as he is. At least I’ve bought his cooperation for as long as I need it.

  Luke Skywalker, the second stranger, is younger, about my age. When he burst into my cell back on the Death Star, I wasn’t exactly impressed. And my doubt increased instantly—as stormtroopers began firing at us. He and Captain Solo hadn’t bothered to formulate an escape plan. They had no clue about how to get off the prisoners’ dock—much less the Death Star!

  The last member of the party was Obi-Wan Kenobi. And now I must record the sad news. My heart is heavy as I say this: Obi-Wan Kenobi is dead. He sacrificed himself to make sure the rest of us got away. Luke is especially saddened by the loss. I’m sorry, Luke.

  I still can’t quite believe it either…

  Let me go back to my last data entry. After I left Tarkin and Vader, all I wanted to do was act. I was ready to take on the whole Imperial army singlehandedly. I wanted to avenge my family and my world. But I knew I needed sleep.

  I was determined to escape, and rest might not come for a long time.

  So I lay down in my bunk, and I thought about Alderaan. I couldn’t think about Father or my aunts—that hurt too much. So I thought about the green fields and the blue flowers, and my favorite walk through the hills. Remembering was a way of avenging, I told myself. Someday, after the downfall of the Empire, I would set down a record of my world.

  I fell asleep, thinking of how beautiful Alderaan was. I awoke at the sound of the door hissing open. A stormtrooper stood there, gaping at me.

  I was instantly awake, and afraid. I assumed he was there to escort me to another torture session. But I pretended nonchalance. I pointed out that he seemed a little short, for a stormtrooper.

  To my shock, the trooper lifted off his helmet. Electric blue eyes blazed at me across the room. The thought rushed through my brain that this was definitely not an Imperial.

  It was Luke Skywalker. He confidently announced that he had come to rescue me. Sweet relief flooded through me—at last, action! I sprang up, ready for anything. Little did I know I was about to be trapped under blaster fire in a corridor.

  Did I mention that Han and Luke were a little short on strategy? Well, it bears repeating.

  Introductions to Captain Solo and Chewbacca were made under laser fire. Things didn’t look good. We were trapped and outnumbered, and wouldn’t be able to hold out for long. But just then I remembered the garbage chute I’d heard rumbling by my cell. I grabbed Luke’s blaster and fired it at the wall so we could all drop through the opening into the chute.

  You’d think Han Solo would thank me for saving his skin. Instead, he started grumbling about the smell of the place. As if a garbage chute would smell like t’iil blossoms!

  But the smell was the least of our problems. It turned out that we weren’t alone in that garbage soup. Something rippled under the water—something alive. And big.

  Luke was suddenly sucked underneath the surface. He barely had time to let out a cry. A slimy creature had wrapped its tentacle around his throat, and Han and I couldn’t loosen its grip.

  Luke was sucked underwater, and I thought we’d lost him. In shock, I stared at the murky water. Was I about to see more death, so soon?

  Suddenly, the walls of the chute shuddered with the same groaning noise I’d heard in my cell. Luke shot to the surface, gasping. The creature had simply let him go. But why?

  We got our answer when, with a terrifying groan, the walls began to move. We were in the compactor!

  I didn’t have time to feel afraid. We grabbed beams, pieces of metal, any debris we could find. We tried to brace them against the walls. But nothing worked. The walls just snapped the metal beam in two like a twig. Soon, it would do the same to our bones.

  Han and I shared a desperate glance. I saw no fear in his face—just exasperation. I felt the same. After all that struggle, would my life end in a pile of Imperial garbage? The sheer unfairness of it made me angry, and I pounded a fist against the groaning wall.

  Then, just as we thought it was over, just as we were about to be flattened so thin you could slip us under a door, Luke raised Artoo and Threepio on the comlink. Artoo shut down the compactor mechanism. The groaning walls stopped.

  We cheered, laughed, stomped our feet in the garbage. Han and I hugged. I don’t know why. Except that he was there. When I pulled away, I saw surprise on his face, as though he were surprised to find that I was a human, not a droid.

  Artoo unlocked the hatch, and we scrambled out, dripping and smelling like womp rats.

  While I shook out my gown, I asked Luke to fill me in. He told me that there was a ship waiting in the docking bay. They’d left the R2 unit waiting in a guard room.

  I was furious. Artoo was more important than any of us! How could he have left him? Threepio was hardly adequate protection. The thought of crucial Death Star plans roaming around an Imperial ship made my blood run cold.

  We had to get to the main docking bay as fast as possible. Luke told me that Obi-Wan was on a mission to dismantle the tractor beam for our getaway.

  At least someone had a decent plan.

  Dodging a space station full of stormtroopers isn’t easy. The rush toward the docking bay couldn’t be a straight line. We had to double back several times in order to avoid troops.

  As we made our way through the corridors,

  I decided that if the Wookiee’s bellowing and Captain Hotshot’s blasting didn’t give us away, it would be a miracle. What good is Solo’s bravery if he takes risks without thinking? And most maddening of all, he didn’t seem to realize that I was in charge. This was my mission—not his!

  I had to inform him that, contrary to what he might think, he had to do what I said.

  He didn’t take it well. He practically snarled at me insisting he didn’t take orders from anybody but himself. Obviously he needed some more talking to. But we had to keep moving. I didn’t have time to put him in his place as firmly as I’d like.

  We made it to an overlook on the main docking bay. That’s when I got my first glimpse of Captain Solo’s beloved ship. Heap of space junk is more like it. The poor Falcon looked thoroughly clumsy and rundown next to the gleaming Imperial transports.

  Han was furious when I asked him if he’d really made it to the Death Star in that thing. You’re braver than I thought, I told him.

  Okay. Maybe it wasn’t a great idea to insult my ride home. One of these days I’ll figure out how to think before I speak.

  We were close to the hangar when we had to split up. Luke and I headed off on our own. As we were trying to escape from a couple of stormtroopers, we stumbled into a very tight spot. We nearly fell into an abyss as we landed on a small platform over the central core shaft.

  Luke blasted the control panel, closing the hatch door just in time. But he also blasted our only means of escape—controls to the retractable bridge. We were trapped, and exposed on the ledge. Troopers were seconds away from getting the hatch open. More troopers appeared across the shaft.

  It was at that moment that I first felt something odd. Something that connected me to this stranger, Luke Skywalker. A feeling that’s only grown stronger over the short time I’ve known him.

  First of all, he reacted exactly as I would have. The thought of giving up never crossed his mind. I guess he doesn’t believe in impossible odds, either.

  Luke handed me his blaster. But I
knew he was going to, before he did. My hands were ready to take it. He found a grappling hook on his belt, and threw it across the shaft. While I fired at the troopers, he made the rope fast. Before he reached for me, I was ready. Our arms went around each other’s waists. I kissed him on the cheek—for luck. It was an impulse I’d never felt before—to kiss a stranger. We flew across the shaft, our muscles perfectly in sync.

  We made it to the docking bay. Han and Chewbacca were seconds behind us. But we had one last obstacle: Darth Vader. That’s when Obi-Wan gave his life for us. In a lightsaber battle with Vader, he simply let his saber fall. In the confusion, we escaped aboard the ship.

  Or did we escape?

  I suspect that our escape was not so lucky. I’m convinced that the Imperials let us go. They just made it look hard. Once we made it aboard the ship, they sent their TIE fighters to shoot at us. Han and Luke fought bravely, but they could have shot like amateurs, and it wouldn’t have mattered. Vader didn’t want any direct hits.

  He wanted to follow us. I know it. I feel it. There’s a tracking beam aboard the Millennium Falcon.

  So right now, I’m leading the Imperials to our base. To where our entire fleet, our most brilliant military minds, are quartered.

  It’s a risk. That’s why I’m continuing with this journal. Until I’ve safely delivered the plans and the Death Star is a bad memory, I’ll continue to record our progress. Nothing must be left to chance.

  The next stop is the fourth moon of Yavin. I have no choice. If the Death Star follows us, it will just make destroying it that much easier. If it’s allowed to be fully operational, we are all doomed.

  The time for attack is now.

  TWELFTH ENTRY

  LOCATION: MILLENNIUM

  FALCON/NAVIGATION

  CENTER

  I can’t wait to get off this bucket of bolts! I’ve just been to the bridge to confer with the pilot and copilot. They should know that the Death Star is on our tail. When we come out of hyperspeed, we’ll have to act fast.

  I’m actually beginning to like that furball, Chewbacca. There’s something brave and kind in his eyes.

  But Captain Solo is another matter. When I told him that I thought the Imperials had let us go in order to track us, he just laughed at me. “Leave the strategy to me, sweetheart,” he said.

  Is the guy asking me to strangle him?

  I don’t know why I expected a different response. Like something close to intelligence. And I can’t stand the way he twists my title. If I hear another “Your Highnessness” or “Your Worshipfulness,” I’ll scream.

  Yes, I grew up in the royal house of Alderaan. But I wasn’t the least bit pampered. On Alderaan, royalty is a title of service, not privilege. My training stressed my service to my planet and to others, and involved an extensive learning period. I was taught the basics of preparing food, making garments, and tending gardens—as well as state diplomacy, advanced communications, and weapons skills.

  Not that I’ll tell Captain High and Mighty Solo these things. Obviously, his major interest in life is himself. He—

  Okay, listen up out there. This is Captain Han Solo speaking—

  Relax, Your Splendidness. Sorry I had to grab your data recorder, but I need to set the record straight. That’s right, have a seat and glare away. I just need a minute to get my point across.

  First of all, I’m betting that Her Royal Pain in the Highness here probably insulted my ship. Although she sure wasn’t complaining when the Falcon saved her pretty little princess hide. This baby can do point five past light speed, so you better believe I could outrun a pokey Rebel X-wing without breaking a sweat. Got it?

  As for strategy, I’m just along for the ride. It’s not up to me to figure out what the Imperials are thinking—I’m just here to outrun ’em. Which I did, and didn’t get any thanks for, either.

  The Princess here has been jawboning me to death about the Rebellion. She says they can use every pilot they can get. Even me, she says. And just because I’m not signing on to some lost cause, she thinks I’m something less than a hero—

  Leia: What I said was that you were an unprincipled scoundrel—

  Han: Hey, I’m talking here! Like I was saying, I never said I was a hero. I did a job, and I did it well. Now all I want is to get paid. That’s fair. I have an outstanding debt, and I’ve got places to go. I’m ready to have a little fun in life. Ever hear of fun, Princess?

  I’m taking you all the way to the Yavin system, after all. That place is on the left side of nowhere—why do you idealists pick the worst planets to meet on, anyway?

  Now, if you want to make yourself useful, stop yapping into this thing and rustle up something tasty in the galley. If you can manage to identify food products, that is. I know princesses and galleys don’t mix, but maybe it’s time they did.

  Okay, Chewie! I’m coming! Keep your hair-shirt on, will ya?

  This is Captain Han Solo, signing off.

  Here ya go, Your Princessness. Catch!

  Now that I have my recorder back, I’ll return to my account. I’d erase Captain Solo’s interruption, but I think it gives you a taste of his personality. Or lack of one. You can see why he’s so hard to capture in words. Crudeness like that has to be heard to be appreciated.

  Han is right, though. We’re all exhausted, and we do need food. And Luke is going to need his strength for the coming fight.

  Maybe I should head for the galley. But not because Solo told me to!

  I found food in the larder storage for Luke. I ate a plate myself, and found the food that Wookiees prefer. But I made sure to break into the survival ration pack for Han. I brought him a protein cube with my very own hands.

  He snapped it in two with his teeth. Chewing furiously, he informed me that I was really starting to get on his nerves.

  Music to my ears. I leaned over and spoke in my sweetest of tones. I told him that when he snarled like that, he sounded just like his copilot.

  Chewbacca let out a long groan. I’m sure it was a laugh.

  I sat with Luke while he ate. He hasn’t said much. I know he’s upset about Obi-Wan. The two of them formed a strong bond in a short period of time. I’ve left him alone, somehow knowing that’s what he wanted. But there are questions I need to ask.

  Luke smiled bleakly when I asked for his story. He himself hasn’t quite processed how a moisture farmer from Tatooine found himself with Obi-Wan Kenobi on a mission to rescue a princess from the Death Star.

  “I guess I’m starting to believe in fate,” he said.

  Luke related how he found Artoo, and his successful search for Ben Kenobi. He told me of the death of his aunt and uncle. How impossible it is for him to believe that Ben is really dead. His eyes were dry, his expression bleak and empty. He had just recited the facts. He didn’t speak of his sadness.

  But I know that kind of grief. Where there’s a storm raging inside you. But you hold back the tears because you have a job to do.

  Everyone I love is dead, too, I told him, thinking of Alderaan. I put my hand over his. For a moment, his fingers curled around mine and squeezed. I felt that current again. Something familiar, but vague. Like something in a dream. I took my hand away. I don’t like things I don’t understand. I like things to be clear.

  And just then, in my head, a vision of my aunt Celly rose as clear as if she were standing in front of me. She smiled. Patience, Leia. Illumination comes like the sunrise. Slowly. Then all at once.

  Aunt Celly was fond of riddles. She drove me nuts with them. But I can’t think about how much I’ll miss her. Not now.

  Luke told me that his father had fought during the Clone Wars. Ben had told him that he’d been a Jedi Knight. That’s where Luke got his lightsaber.

  Maybe our fathers had known each other. Maybe they’d even fought together, side by side. Just like we had. But we’ll never know for sure.

  Luke is ready to fight. He claims to be a good pilot, and he’s eager to get his hands on an X-wing. He’s
hoping that Han will change his mind and fight, too.

  I told Luke that Solo was well-named. He wouldn’t put himself on the line for a cause. But secretly, I’m hoping he will.

  I know I’ve said harsh things about Solo. But sometimes, there’s something in his face that’s almost… noble. He did save my life. And I know he hates the Imperials. He could decide to fight.

  Soon, we’ll enter the orbit of Yavin. I guess I should be grateful that I’m on a smuggler’s ship. Han didn’t overestimate its speed. He has experience outrunning the law, so his engines are tweaked to the maximum. That has bought us precious time—

  Captain Solo has just informed me that if I want a bird’s-eye view of my “Base of Fools,” I should scoot up to the bridge, pronto.

  Base of Fools?

  I was crazy to think that Solo would ever join the Rebellion.

  THIRTEENTH ENTRY

  LOCATION: STARPILOTS’

  QUARTERS/MASSASSI OUTPOST/

  FOURTH MOON OF YAVIN

  As we hurried down the boarding ramp of the Falcon, the air hit us like a wet sock. The Yavin moon is a jungle planet, and the atmosphere is practically steam.

  Threepio started to fret that he would rust in this climate. Artoo beeped and whistled in disagreement. But a huffy Threepio insisted that no matter what—appearance is always important.

  I have to remember that one the next time I’m trapped in an Imperial prison cell.

  Just then, an X-wing fighter zoomed overhead, then dive-bombed down toward the surface. At the last minute, it pulled out and soared to the left. The spacepilots were on maneuvers.

  Luke’s eyes never left the fighter. I could tell what he was thinking. He couldn’t wait to get inside a cockpit.

  I saw Han glance up at the X-wing, too. But he looked worried. I knew what he was thinking. Next to the Death Star, that X-wing looked awfully small.