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1、Prologue The very depth of space. There was the length, and width, and height; and then these dimensions curved over on themselves into a bending blackness measurable only by the glinting stars that tumbled through the chasm, receding to infinity. To the very depth. These stars marked the moments

2、 of the universe. There were aging orange embers, blue dwarfs, twin yellow giants. There were collapsing neutron stars, and angry supernovae that hissed into the icy emptiness. There were borning stars, breathing stars, pulsing stars, and dying stars. There was the Death Star. At the feathered edg

3、e of the galaxy, the Death Star floated in stationary orbit above the green moon Endor—a moon whose mother planet had long since died of unknown cataclysm and disappeared into unknown realms. The Death Star was the Empire's armored battle station, nearly twice as big as its predecessor, which Rebel

4、forces had destroyed so many years before—nearly twice as big, but more than twice as powerful. Yet it was only half complete. Half a steely dark orb, it hung above the green world of Endor, tentacles of unfinished superstructure curling away toward its living companion like the groping legs of a

5、deadly spider. An Imperial Star Destroyer approached the giant space station at cruising speed. It was massive—a city itself—yet it moved with deliberate grace, like some great sea dragon. It was accompanied by dozens of Twin Ion Engines fighters—black insectlike combat flyers that zipped back and

6、 forth around the battle ship's perimeter: scouting, sounding, docking, regrouping. Soundlessly the main bay of the ship opened. There was a brief ignition-flash, as an Imperial shuttle emerged from the darkness of the hold, into the darkness of space. It sped toward the half-completed Death Star

7、with quiet purpose. In the cockpit the shuttle captain and his copilot made final readings, monitored descent functions. It was a sequence they'd each performed a thousand times, yet there was an unusual tension in the air now. The captain flipped the transmitter switch, and spoke into his mouthpi

8、ece. "Command Station, this is ST321. Code Clearance Blue. We're starting our approach. Deactivate the security shield." Static filtered over the receiver; then the voice of the port controller: "The security deflector shield will be deactivated when we have confirmation of your code transmissio

9、n. Stand by…" Once more silence filled the cockpit. The shuttle captain bit the inside of his cheek, smiled nervously at his copilot, and muttered, "Quick as you can, please—this better not take long. He's in no mood to wait.." They refrained from glancing back into the passenger section of the

10、shuttle, now under lights-out for landing. The unmistakable sound of the mechanical breathing coming from the chamber's shadow filled the cabin with a terrible impatience. In the control room of Death Star below, operators moved along the bank of panels, monitoring all the space traffic in the are

11、a, authorizing flight patterns, accessing certain areas to certain vehicles. The shield operator suddenly checked his monitor with alarm; the view-screen depicted the battle station itself, the moon Endor, and a web of energy—the deflector shield—emanating from the green moon, encompassing the Death

12、 Star. Only now, the security web was beginning to separate, to retract and form a clear channel—a channel through which the dot that was the Imperial shuttle sailed, unimpeded, toward the massive space station. The shield operator quickly called his control officer over to the view-screen, uncert

13、ain how to proceed. "What is it?" the officer demanded. "That shuttle has a class-one priority ranking." He tried to replace the fear in his voice with disbelief. The officer glanced at the view-screen for only a moment before realizing who was on the shuttle and spoke to himself: "Vader!" H

14、e strode past the view port, where the shuttle could be seen already making its final approach, and headed toward the docking bay. He turned to the controller. "Inform the commander that Lord Vader's shuttle has arrived. The shuttle sat quietly, dwarfed by the cavernous reaches of the huge docki

15、ng bay. Hundreds of troops stood assembled in formation, flanking the base of the shuttle ramp—white armored Imperial stormtroopers, gray-suited officers, and elite, red-robed Imperial Guard. They snapped to attention as Moff Jerjerrod entered. Jerjerrod—tall, thin, arrogant—was the Death Star com

16、mander. He walked without hurry up the ranks of soldiers, to the ramp of the shuttle. Hurry was not in Jerjerrod, for hurry implied a wanting to be elsewhere, and he was a man who distinctively was exactly where he wanted to be. Great men never hurried (he was fond of saying); great men caused other

17、s to hurry. Yet Jerjerrod was not blind to ambition; and a visit by such a one as this great Dark Lord could not be taken too lightly. He stood at the shuttle mouth, therefore, waiting—with respect, but not hurry. Suddenly the exit hatch of the shuttle opened, pulling the troops in formation to

18、even tauter attention. Only darkness glowed from the exit at first; then footsteps; then the characteristic electrical respirations, like the breathing of a machine; and finally Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, emerged from the void. Vader strode down the ramp, looking over the assemblage. He stoppe

19、d when he came to Jerjerrod. The commander bowed from the neck, and smiled. "Lord Vader, this is an unexpected pleasure. We are honored by your presence." "We can dispense with the pleasantries, Commander." Vader's words echoed as from the bottom of a well. "The Emperor is concerned with your pr

20、ogress. I am here to put you back on schedule." Jerjerrod turned to pale. This was news he'd not expected. "I assure you, Lord Vader, my men are working as fast as they can." Perhaps I can encourage their progress in ways you have not considered," Vader growled. He had ways, of course; this was

21、known. Ways, and ways again. Jerjerrod kept his tone even, though deep inside, the ghost of hurry began to scrabble at his throat. "That won't be necessary, my Lord. I tell you, without question this station will be operational as planned." "I'm afraid the Emperor does not share your optimistic

22、appraisal of the situation." "I fear he asks the impossible," the commander suggested. "Perhaps you could explain that to him when he arrives." Vader's face remained invisible behind the deathly black mask that protected him; but the malice was clear in the electronically modified voice. Jerje

23、rrod's pallor intensified. "The Emperor is coming here?" "Yes, Commander. And he will be quite displeased if you are still behind schedule when he arrives." He spoke loudly, to spread the threat over all who could hear. "We shall double our efforts, Lord Vader." And he meant it. For sometimes di

24、dn't even great men hurry, in time of great need? Vader lowered his voice again. "I hope so, Commander, for your sake. The Emperor will tolerate no further delay in the final destruction of the outlaw Rebellion. And we have secret news now"—he included Jerjerrod, only, in this intimate detail—"The

25、 Rebel fleet has gathered all its forces into a single giant armada. The time is at hand when we can crush them, without mercy, in a single blow." For the briefest second, Vader's breathing seemed to quicken, then resumed its measured pace, like the rising of hollow wind. I Outside the sm

26、all adobe hut, the sandstorm wailed like a beast in agony, refusing to die. Inside, the sounds were muted. It was cooler in this shelter, more hushed, and darker. While the beast without howled, in this place of nuance and shadow a shrouded figure worked. Tanned hands, holding arcane tools, exte

27、nded from the sleeves of a caftanlike robe. The figure crouched on the ground, working. Before him lay a discoid device of strange design, wires trailing from it at one end, symbols etched into its flat surface. He connected the wires end to a tubular, smooth handle, pulled through an organic-lookin

28、g connector, locked it in place with another tool. He motioned to a shadow in the corner; the shadow moved toward him. Tentatively, the obscure form rolled closer to the robed figure. "Vrrr-dit dweet?" the little R2 unit questioned timidly as it approached, pausing when it was just a foot from the

29、 shrouded man with the strange device. The shrouded man motioned the droid nearer still. Artoo-Detoo scooted the last distance, blinking; and the hands raised toward his domed little head. The fine sand blew hard over the dunes of Tatooine. The wind seemed to come from everywhere at once, typhoo

30、ning in spots, swirling in devil-winds here, hovering in stillness there, without pattern or meaning. A road wound across the desert plain. It nature changed constantly, at one moment obscured by drifts of ochre sand, the next moment swept clean, or distorted by the heat of the shimmering air abov

31、e it. A road more ephemeral than navigable; yet a road to be followed, all the same. For it was the only way to reach the palace of Jabba the Hut. Jabba was the vilest gangster in the galaxy. He had his fingers in smuggling, slave-trading, murder; his minions scattered across the stars. He both co

32、llected and invented atrocities, and his court was a den of unparalleled decay. It was said by some that Jabba had chosen Tatooine as his place of residence because only in this arid crucible of a planet could he hope to keep his soul from rotting away altogether—here the parched sun might bake his

33、humor to festering brine. In any case, it was a place few of kind spirit even knew of, let alone approached. It was a place of evil, where even the most courageous felt their powers wilt under the foul gaze of Jabba's corruption. "Poot-wEEt beDOO gung ooble DEEp!" vocalized Artoo-Detoo. "Of co

34、urse I'm worried," See-Threepio fussed. "And you should be too. Poor Lando Calrissian never returned from this place. Can you imagine what they've done to him?" Artoo whistled timidly. The golden droid waded stiffly through a shifting sand hill, then stopped short, as Jabba's palace suddenly loo

35、med, suddenly dark, in the near distance. Artoo almost bumped into him, quickly skidding to the side of the road. "Watch where you're going, Artoo." See-Threepio resumed walking, but more slowly, his little friend rolling along at his side. And as they went, he chattered on. "Why couldn't Chewbacc

36、a have delivered this message? No, whenever there's an impossible mission, they turn to us. No one worries about droids. Sometimes I wonder why we put up with it all." On and on he rambled, over the desolate final stretch of road, until at last they reached the gates to the palace: massive iron do

37、ors, taller than Threepio could see—part of a series of stone and iron walls, forming several gigantic cylindrical towers that seemed to rise out of a mountain of packed sand. The two droids fearfully looked around the ominous door for signs of life, or welcome, or some sort of signaling device wi

38、th which to make their presence known. Seeing nothing in any of those categories, See-Threepio mustered his resolve (which function had been programmed into him quite a long time earlier), knocked softly three times on the thick metal gate, then quickly turned around and announced to Artoo, "There d

39、oesn't seem to be anyone here. Let's go back and tell Master Luke." Suddenly a small hatch opened in the center of the door. A spindly mechanical arm popped out, affixed to which a large electronic eyeball peered unabashedly at the two droids. The eyeball spoke. "Tee chuta hhat yudd!" Threepio

40、 stood erect, proud though his circuits quivered a bit. He faced the eye, pointed to Artoo, and then to himself. "Artoo Detoowha bo Seethreepoiosha ey toota odd mischka Jabba du Hutt." The eye looked quickly from one robot to the other, then retracted back through the little window and slammed the

41、 hatch shut. "Boo-dEEp gaNOOng," whispered Artoo with concern. Threepio nodded. "I don't think they're going to let us in, Artoo. We'd better go." He turned to leave, as Artoo beeped a reluctant four-tone. At that, a horrific, grinding screech erupted, and the massive iron door slowly began to

42、 rise. The two droids looked at each other skeptically, and then into the yawning black cavity that faced them. They waited, afraid to enter, afraid to retreat. From the shadow, the strange voice of the eye screamed at them: "Nudd chaa!" Artoo beeped and rolled forward into the gloom. Threepio h

43、esitated, then rushed after his stubby companion with a start. "Artoo wait for me!" They stopped together in a gaping passageway, as Threepio scolded: "You'll get lost." The great door slammed shut behind them with a monumental crash that echoed through the dark cavern. For a moment the two fright

44、ened robots stood there without moving; then, haltingly, they stepped forward. They were immediately joined by three large Gamorrean guards—powerful piglike brutes whose racial hatred of robots was well known. The guards ushered the two droids down the dark corridor without so much as a nod. When

45、they reached the first half-lit hallway, one of them grunted an order. Artoo beeped a nervous query at Threepio. "You don't want to know," the golden droid responded apprehensively. "Just deliver Master Luke's message and get us out of here quick." Before they could take another step, a form app

46、roached them from the obscurity of a cross-corridor: Bib Fortuna, the inelegant major-domo of Jabba's degenerate court. He was a tall, humanoid creature with eyes that saw only what was necessary, and a robot that hid all. Protruding from the back of his skull were two fat, tentacular appendages tha

47、t exhibited prehensile, sensual, and cognitive functions at various times—which he wore either draped over his shoulders for decorative effect or, when the situation called for balance, hanging straight down behind him as if they were twin tails, He smiled thinly as he stopped before the two robot

48、s. "Die wanna wanga." Threepio spoke up officially. "Die wanna wanga. We bring a message to your master, Jabba the Hutt." Artoo beeped a postscript, upon which Threepio nodded and added: "And a gift." He thought about this a moment, looked as puzzled as it was possible for a droid to look, and whi

49、spered loudly to Artoo, "Gift, what gift?" Bib shook his head emphatically. "Nee Jabba no badda. Me chaade su goodie." He held out his hand toward Artoo. The small droid backed up meekly, but his protest was lengthy. "bDooo EE NGwrrr Op dbooDEEop!" "Artoo, give it to him!" Threepio insisted. S

50、ometimes Artoo could be so binary. At this, though, Artoo became positively defiant, beeping and tooting at Fortuna and Threepio as if they'd both had their programs erased. Threepio nodded finally, hardly happy with Artoo's answer. He smiled apologetically at Bib. "He says our master's instruct

51、ions are to give it only to Jabba himself." Bib considered the problem a moment, as Threepio went on explaining. "I'm terribly sorry. I'm afraid he's ever so stubborn about these things." He managed to throw a disparaging yet loving tone into his voice, as he tilted his head toward his small associa

52、te. Bib gestured for them to follow. "Nudd chaa." He walked back into the darkness, the droids following close behind, the three Gamorrean guards lumbering along at the rear. As See-Threepio descended into the belly of the shadow, he muttered quietly to the silent R2 unit, "Artoo, I have a bad f

53、eeling about this." See-Threepio and Artoo-Detoo stood at the entrance of the throne room, looking in. "We're doomed," whimpered Threepio, wishing for the thousandth time that he could close his eyes. The room was filled, wall to cavernous wall, with the animate dregs of the universe. Grotesque

54、creatures from the lowest star systems, drunk on spiced liquor and their own fetid vapors. Gamorreans, twisted humans, jawas—all reveling in base pleasures, or raucously comparing mean feats. And at the front of the room, reclining on a dais that overlooked the debauchery, was Jabba the Hutt. His

55、head was three times human size, perhaps four. His eyes were yellow, reptilian—his skin was like a snake's, as well, except covered with a fine layer of grease. He had no neck, but only a series of chins that expanded finally into a great bloated body, engorged to bursting with stolen morsels. Stunt

56、ed, almost useless arms sprouted from his upper torso, the sticky fingers of his left hand languidly wrapped around the smoking-end of his water-pipe. He had no hair—it had fallen out from a combination of diseases. He had no legs—his trunk simply tapered gradually to a long, plump snake-tail that s

57、tretched along the length of the platform like a tube of yeasty dough. His lipless mouth was wide, almost ear to ear, and he drooled continuously. He was quite thoroughly disgusting. Chained to him, chained at the neck, was a sad, pretty dancing-girl, a member of Fortuna's species, with two dry, s

58、hapely tentacles sprouting from the back of her head, hanging suggestively down her bare, muscled back. Her name was Oola. Looking forlorn, she sat as far away as her chain would allow, at the other end of the dais. And sitting near Jabba's belly was a small monkeylike reptile named Salacious Crum

59、b, who caught all the food and ooze that spilled out of Jabba's hands or mouth and ate it with a nauseating cackle. Shafts of light from above partially illuminated the drunken courtiers as Bib Fortuna crossed the floor to the dais. The room was composed of an endless series of alcoves within alco

60、ves, so that much of what went on was, in any case, visible only as shadow and movement. When Fortuna reached the throne, he delicately leaned forward and whispered into the slobbering monarch's ear. Jabba's eyes became slits…then with a maniacal laugh he motioned for the two terrified droids to be

61、brought in. "Bo shuda," wheezed the Hutt, and lapsed into a fit of coughing. Although he understood several languages, as a point of honor he only spoke Huttese. His only such point. The quaking robots scooted forward to stand before the repulsive ruler, though he grossly violated their most dee

62、ply programmed sensibilities. "The message, Artoo, the message," Threepio urged. Artoo whistled once, and a beam of light projected from his domed head, creating a hologram of Luke Skywalker that stood before them on the floor. Quickly the image grew to over ten feet tall, until the young Jedi war

63、rior towered over the assembled throng. Al at once the room grew quiet, as Luke's giant presence made itself felt. "Greetings, Exalted One," the hologram said to Jabba. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight and friend of Captain Solo. I seek an audience with Your Greatnes

64、s, to bargain for his life." At this, the entire room burst into laughter which Jabba instantly stopped with a hand motion. Luke didn't pause long. "I know that you are powerful, mighty Jabba, and that your anger with Solo must be equally powerful. But I'm sure we can work out an arrangement which w

65、ill be mutually beneficial. As a token of my good will, I present to you a gift—these two droids." Threepio jumped back as if stung. "What! What did he said?" Luke continued, "…Both are hardworking and will serve you will." With that, the hologram disappeared. Threepio wagged his head in despa

66、ir. "Oh, no, this can't be. Artoo, you must have played the wrong message." Jabba laughed and drooled. Bib spoke in Huttese. "Bargain rather than fight? He is no Jedi." Jabba nodded in agreement. Still grinning, he rasped at Threepio, "There will be no bargain. I have no intention of giving up my favorite decoration." With a hideous chuckle he looked toward the dimly lit alcove beside the throne; there, hanging flat against the wall, was the carbonized form of Han Solo, his face and hands em