That produced a dimly outraged moan from the thing. Jaws parted to reveal a gullet high and wide enough to dance in. Luke saw something moving inside. Whether prodded by instinct or a good guess, he threw himself sharply to his left and rolled rapidly.
The long pink tongue exploded outward, to pulverize a black boulder which had been just behind him. As he rolled to his feet and continued backing away, the creature spat out chunks of rock.
Before Luke could move out of range the thick tongue shot out again. Unable to dodge, he held his saber tightly in front of him. It seemed pitifully inadequate against that pink pseudopod. But the sizzling sound was loud. Apparently he’d contacted sensitive tissue, because the creature let out a throaty yelp. With single-minded determination, it resumed stalking Luke. Death glinted in narrowed yellow eyes.
Leia and Halla kept up a steady fire on the massive body, to no effect. “Useless,” the Princess said tightly. She looked toward the entrance. There was no sign of movement there. “Hin!” she shouted. “Kee!” No response.
“They’ll get here,” Halla advised her. “They’d better.”
Unexpectedly, the monster hopped forward. Horizontal door-jaws snapped shut with a ringing thud as Luke ducked beneath the bite. His saber cut a black line across the underside of the jaw as he stumbled clear, to bang into one of the thick pillars supporting the roof. One of the gaps in that soaring ceiling shone directly above.
He shot an anxious glance toward the entrance. Where were the Yuzzem? He couldn’t avoid this angry behemoth much longer.
No time to worry about anything other than himself now. It was crawling for him once more. A quick glance at the ceiling, a quicker decision, and then he was swinging the lightsaber at the pillar’s base.
Like an X-wing in atmosphere, the incredible energy beam sliced through the black stone. A rumbling noise followed, punctuated by explosive crackings.
“Halla, Leia … run!” he yelled. Then he was sprinting to join them.
Lumbering toward them, the lizard-creature never noticed the cracks in the ceiling overhead. They spread, multiplied, joined, and then the pillar disintegrated, bringing a section of roof as wide as the existing gap down on top of the monster. Gigantic blocks of curved stone crushed its front end to pulp, stilling the toothy grin forever.
As the rumbling echoes of the collapse subsided and the black dust began to settle, Luke, panting, paused to look behind him. There was no sign of the front end of the beast. It was buried completely beneath tons of volcanic rock. Twitching hind legs clawed futilely at the air for a while. The massive scimitar tail smashed at the ground. Before very long, all movement ceased.
“What happened to Hin and Kee?” he finally asked. “The thing had me cornered. I could’ve been a short meal.”
“They’re probably arguing,” the Princess essayed in disgust. She eyed the entrance. “Pretty soon they’ll remember what they were sent for. Then they’ll come rushing back in, begging your forgiveness.”
“I’ll bawl them out then,” Luke sighed. “Right now I’m—” He glanced around for Halla, saw her moving at a trot toward the distant idol. “Halla!”
“Let her go,” the Princess advised him, with an indifferent wave of one hand. “She’s not running anywhere with it.” She started walking toward the far side of the temple. “She’ll need our help to get it down anyway.” When Luke didn’t follow, she wondered aloud, “Aren’t you coming, too?”
“In a minute,” he assured her, his attention behind instead of in front of him. “I want to make certain this thing is dead.”
As the Princess strolled without hurry toward the statue, he moved to stand next to the visible portion of the hulk-corpse. He prodded it with his saber, sinking the shaft of azure destruction into dark flesh up to the hilt. It didn’t stir.
Satisfied, he turned to rejoin his companions. There was a faint, warning rumble and his gaze jerked skyward.
So did those of the Princess and Halla. “Luke!” they shouted simultaneously.
He didn’t need urging. What he did need was a second or two. The edges of the new hole in the ceiling were widening slightly.
Fate gave him the first second, begrudged him the second.
“Luke!” The Princess was running toward him now as the rumbling stopped and the last small stone fell heavily. Halla stood frozen, torn between the pile of rubble beneath which Luke was buried and the tantalizing proximity of the crystal. Drunk with its nearness, she continued on toward the statue.
Leia reached the small hillock of fresh broken rock, looked around frantically.
“Over … here,” a voice murmured, slow and full of pain.
He lay nearby, pinned on his back. She shifted debris from him, ignoring the cloying dust and the scratches the sharp fragments made on her hands and arms. But she couldn’t budge the massive block which had struck the temple floor and then tumbled to rest on his right thigh and calf.
“Try again,” he instructed her. They strained together. Leia put her back beneath one edge of the stone, thrust upward with what little weight she had. The block did not move.
They rested, breathing hard. Luke’s face was a mixture of fading pain and hope. “It’s not pressing on me with its full weight,” he told her. “If it was I wouldn’t have a leg to pull free now.” His gaze turned toward the silent entrance. “Dammit, where are those two? They could move this thing easily.”
“I am afraid your slow-witted companions will no longer be able to help you or anyone else, Skywalker.”
Luke went cold all over. A tall, blood-chilling shape stood on top of the rubble in the entranceway. Clad completely in black armor, it stared down at them expectantly.
“They’re both dead,” it informed them pleasantly, in a voice devoid of any spark of humanity. “I killed them. As for your ’droids, they are conditioned to obey orders. I had them turn themselves off.”
Slowly Leia’s mouth moved, forming a name. But no sound issued from between those perfect lips.
Moving leisurely down the pile of rubble, Darth Vader addressed them in a coldly conversational tone.
“You know, Skywalker, I had a difficult time finding out that it was you who shot up my TIE fighter above the Death Star station. Rebellion spies are hard and expensive to come by. I also found out it was you who released the torpedo that destroyed the station. You have a great deal to atone for to me. I’ve waited a long time.”
Casually he drew his own lightsaber, began swinging the activated energy blade loosely back and forth, chopping playfully at bits of stone and carving.
“You were lucky that time in the snubship,” he went on, as Luke fought to pull his pinioned leg free. He dug at the stone floor until blood ran from beneath his nails. “I probably won’t have the patience to let you last as long as you deserve. You may consider yourself lucky.” His voice dropped to a toxic whisper. “I expect no such difficulty in restraining myself where you are concerned, Leia Organa. In several ways, you are responsible for my setbacks much more than this simple boy.”
“Monster,” was all she could spit out, furious and afraid.
“Do you remember that day back on the station,” Vader mused, with deliberate patience, “when the late Governor Tarkin and I interviewed you?” He placed a peculiar stress on the word “interviewed.”
Leia had both hands on opposite shoulders and was shivering as if from intense cold.
“Yes,” Vader observed, perverse amusement in his voice, “I can see that you do. I am truly sorry I have nothing as elaborate to treat you to at this time. However,” he added, swinging his weapon lightly, “one can do some interesting things with a saber, you know. I’ll do my best to show you all of them if you’ll cooperate by not passing out.”
Leia’s hands dropped to her sides. The fear did not leave her, but she forced it into the back alleys of her mind by sheer will. Running the few steps to Luke’s side, she knelt and groped at his wrist. When she rose, she was holding the lightsaber carefully i
n one hand.
Vader looked on approvingly. “You’re going to fight. Good. That will make it interesting.”
She spat at the advancing giant, a pitifully feeble gesture as she brandished the lightsaber. “The Force give me leave to kill you before I die,” she snarled.
An awful coughing laugh issued from behind the gargoylish breath mask. “Foolish infant. The Force is with me, not you. But,” he shrugged amiably, “we will see.” He assumed a position of readiness. “Come, girl-woman … amuse me.”
Grimly determined, mouth clenched, she moved toward him. As she did so Vader abruptly let his arm fall, let the lambent beam of his saber hang limply at his side.
“Leia, don’t!” Luke yelled to her. “It’s a feint … he’s daring you. Kill me, then yourself … it’s hopeless now.”
Vader looked over at Luke contemptuously, then back at the Princess. “Go on,” he told her, “let him fight for you if you want. But I won’t let you kill him. I’ve been robbed too often.”
Leia appeared to hesitate, then lunged straight at Vader with the tip of the saber. Simultaneously the Dark Lord brought his own beam up in a lightning gesture to parry hers.
But Leia performed a spinning, twisting arc in the air and brought her saber down in a slashing flare of blue light. Energy flashed as it contacted the Dark Lord’s armored breath mask. Only superhuman reflexes enabled him to avoid the full effect of the blow.
If there was anyone in the vast chamber more surprised than Vader, it was Luke. He fought to free his trapped leg with a slight twinge of hope.
“Almost, little Princess, almost,” Vader murmured without anger. “I have been guilty of overconfidence before.” He adjusted his stance. “I will not be guilty again.”
His saber curled in, around, down. She barely managed to deflect the blow as she backpedaled. Again he advanced, swung; again she deflected the cut.
They dueled on, with Vader steadily pressing his attack. It required every bit of skill and strength the Princess possessed for her simply to defend herself. There was no thought of mounting an assault of her own.
One occupant of the temple chamber was not watching the fight. High above and far away from the duelists, Halla stood at face level with a pulsing, multifaceted crimson crystal as big as her head. With trembling hands she reached out, caressed it. A twist and pull brought it out of its socket in the statue with unexpected ease.
For a long moment she held the jewel in both hands, gazing deeply into a luminescence that was almost alive. Then she was picking her way back down the juts and thrusts of the idol, clutching the crystal tight to her bosom with her right hand.
Vader cut down, the Princess brought her saber up yet once more to parry, and Vader at the last instant changed his swing. The tip of the energy beam slashed across her midsection, slicing through her miner’s suit to leave a black burn across her middle. She winced in pain, grabbed at the wound with her free hand. Vader allowed her no respite, continued to press forward.
Luke’s efforts to pull himself free had left him as firmly pinned as ever, and utterly exhausted. He lay on the ground, fighting to get his breath and energy back, forced to watch helplessly as Vader continued his game of cat-and-mouse with the Princess.
Another intricate swing-and-thrust. This time his saber cut across her cheek, leaving another ugly scorch mark. Tears came as her hand went to her burned cheek. She was moving more and more slowly now, the hand holding Luke’s lightsaber shaking uncertainly.
“Come, Princess-Senator Organa, where is your noble fortitude, your traitor’s determination?” Vader taunted her. “Surely a few little burns cannot hurt so much?”
Enraged, she swung the saber at him with fresh strength. Without straining, he blocked it completely and continued to move on to cut at her again. Though she blocked it, the force of the blow sent her tumbling, rolling to the ground. Vader followed relentlessly as she tried to crawl away and regain her feet. His saber drew a long black gash down the back of her left leg.
Screaming, she rolled over somehow and ended up standing. Then she moved away from him with a limp, favoring the damaged leg.
Unable to watch any longer, Luke had his head buried in his hands. Clink—a sound of rock on rock. Raising his head and turning, he looked behind him. The sound was repeated. He tried to see around the stone trapping him.
A hand, seemingly independent of arm or body, worked its way with infinite slowness and determination over the side of the big block of volcanic stone. It was followed by a head. A terrible wound showed halfway through the upper portion of the skull.
“Hin!” Luke called softly, hardly daring to breathe. A quick glance showed Vader still fully intent on the Princess. The fatally injured Yuzzem put a hand to its snout, ordering Luke to silence.
Crawling on hands and knees, Hin came around the stone until he was beneath an overhanging edge. Backing up against the supporting rocks, he started to rise. Massive bristled shoulders pressed upward against the long rock, arms strained. The boulder did not move, and Hin fell to the floor. His breathing was labored, his eyes half closed.
“Come on, Hin, come on!” Luke urged frantically, his gaze traveling from the fight on the floor back to the prone Yuzzem. “You can move it … just a little is all. Try again, please!”
Hin blinked, seemed to stare at Luke without seeing him. Moving mechanically, it positioned heavy-muscled arms and shoulders underneath the edge once more.
“Come, little Princess. Now is the time for spirit,” he admonished her. “You still have a chance.” He stalked her as she backed from him, threatening her with false cuts and thrusts that she tried to block feebly while limping on her damaged leg.
“Stand and fight,” he urged her. Another downward swing of the lethal saber, this one cutting across her chest and through the suit. The Princess sucked in her breath with an agonized gasp, bent over and almost fell. Vader moved toward her.
There came a grinding sound loud enough to cause both of them to look up.
With a final effort Hin had shoved the huge stone block aside. He fell in a heap, the life already draining from him, as Luke desperately scrambled clear. The pressure on his leg had been just enough to restrain him, not enough to damage it. He was running toward the two combatants, favoring his right leg but feeling it grow stronger with every step.
“Leia!” She still retained enough presence of mind to switch off the saber before throwing it to him even as Vadar grabbed to intercept the weapon. The Dark Lord missed it by a finger-length, caught the Princess instead.
But the throw was weak. Luke tried to run faster, found his still-sore leg hobbled him slightly. Vader growled something unintelligible, shoved the Princess away from him with his free hand. She fell to the hard floor, lay there panting, exhausted.
Luke saw Vader closing the distance between them. The Dark Lord would reach the lightsaber first. He sprinted somehow, threw himself at the ground. He felt reborn as his fist closed around the saber haft, then he rolled with renewed vigor to his right. Vader’s blow was an instant late, cutting a deep furrow in the stone floor where Luke had fallen.
Then Luke was on his feet, the saber now shining bright blue in his hand. His roll had taken him behind Vader. He stood between the Dark Lord and the Princess. Vader regarded him silently.
“Leia?” No answer. He glanced backward. “Princess?”
A thin, sorrowful voice. “Don’t worry about me, Luke.”
Vader appeared to inhale deeply. “No, Skywalker,” he rumbled, “don’t worry about her. Worry about yourself.”
Luke felt a wild sense of elation as he brandished his father’s weapon. “I’m not worried about anything, Vader. Not now. I have no more worries and only one concern.” His voice held an unaccustomed hint of conviction. “I’m going to kill you, Darth Vader.”
That humorless laugh again. “What a high opinion you hold of yourself, Skywalker.”
“I’m … I’m Ben Kenobi,” Luke whispered in an odd way.
For just a moment Vader seemed shaken. “Ben Kenobi’s dead. I killed him myself. You are simple Luke Skywalker, an ex-farm boy from Tatooine. You are no master of the Force and the equal of Ben Kenobi you will never be.”
“Ben Kenobi is with me, Vader,” Luke snarled, gaining confidence every second, “and the Force is with me, too.”
“You do have something of the Force about you, boy,” Vader admitted. “A master of it you are not, however. That dooms you. Only a master could do … this.”
The Dark Lord lunged and Luke spun well clear. At the same time, Vader was staring not at Luke, but at the ground. A small fragment of the fallen ceiling rose, shot straight for Luke’s head. Seeing it coming, he reacted as Kenobi had taught him … without thinking.
A much smaller stone lifted and intersected the path of the charging rock. The two met. Though Vader’s missile was by far the larger, it was deflected just enough by Luke’s rock to send it shooting past his shoulder harmlessly.
Panting, he stared challengingly back at Vader. “Good, boy,” the Dark Lord confessed, “very good. But my stone was the heavier. My powers are the stronger.”
“Not strong enough, Vader,” Luke insisted as he lunged forward. His thoughts were of Kenobi, of the techniques of saber and Force the old Jedi knight had laboriously taught him. He tried to let the Force guide his arm.
Vader parried, blocked, parried again, and found himself being forced backward by the aggressiveness and skill of Luke’s demonic attack. The breath mask tilted back for a second. A section of heavy bas-relief on one of the supporting pillars was loosened, fell away.
At the last instant Luke sensed it, jumped backward. The huge carved panel shattered between them. Both men rested uneasily as the dust settled. Luke gulped for air, while Vader showed less aplomb and increasing tension.
“You are good, Skywalker,” he declared. “Very good indeed, for a child. But the end will be the same.” He raised his saber and came charging over the broken panel.