Journey to Star Wars: The Force Awakens the Weapon of a Jedi: A Luke Skywalker Adventure (6 page)

Farnay scowled.
“I…I trailed you to the depot last night and heard you asking about the towers—and about Eedit. I could’ve warned you how they’d react.”

Threepio came clanking up behind Luke, complaining about mud in his joints.

“You know about Eedit?” Luke asked. “What is it?”

“Just a bunch of ruins. But the Empire doesn’t allow anyone to go there. It was a temple for the sorcerers in the old war—before
they tried to take over the galaxy and had to
be destroyed.”

Luke winced at hearing the Emperor’s lie on the lips of this young girl. But the Imperial propaganda was less important than what Farnay had revealed. The towers were a Jedi
temple—and the Force was calling him there.

“So the guides won’t go there because the Empire forbids it?” Luke asked.

“Well, that and it’s haunted—that’s
the story, anyway.”

“Haunted? By what?”

“By the spirits of those who died there,” Farnay said. “They say in the end the sorcerers summoned a demon warrior to help them defend against the machines—only the spell
went wrong. So the demon killed them and imprisoned them there forever.”

“A demon?” Threepio said. “Oh dear.”

Luke raised an eyebrow, and Farnay shrugged.

“I don’t
believe it either,” she said. “I think the guides like telling that story better than admitting that they’re all too afraid of Porst—he owns most of
the equipment in Tikaroo, and if you cross him he won’t rent to you. But I can take you there. I know the way. I don’t believe in demons, and I’m not afraid of ghosts.”

Luke must have looked skeptical, because Farnay stamped her foot impatiently.

“Think I can’t? I’ve led hunting parties into the jungle plenty of times, you know. I’ve got my own hunting rifle—a real one, not a peashooter like the one in your
holster—and I know how to use it. Brought back plenty of pikhron skins to sell to old Porst, and he knows better than to try and cheat me. Why, I’ve even got a pack beast—all
you’ve got to do is lend me the credits to rent a
few pieces of gear that we’d need.”

“Wouldn’t we need more than one pack beast?” Luke asked.

Farnay looked away with a scowl.

“Mine will do,” she muttered. “He’s a bit small, but he’s strong.”

“I think I better see this pack beast of yours.”

“Fine,” Farnay said, and marched away, with Luke hurrying to catch up. She led him to a small house on the edge of the jungle. Outside,
a leathery-skinned quadruped was tied to a
stake. The beast raised its head, munching grass contentedly, and bleated at them.

“I am not programmed for zoology, but this animal appears to be a juvenile,” Threepio said.

Luke sighed and rubbed the beast’s nose, smiling as the animal closed its eyes and chuffed happily.

“I’m sure he’s very strong, Farnay, but the two of us plus my droids
would be too much for him to carry. You know that.”

Farnay turned away, head down, and kicked at the dirt.

“But the information about Eedit’s valuable,” Luke said, reaching into his jacket to give her some credits. “Let me—”

Farnay turned, already waving her hand dismissively, but whatever she’d planned to say died in her throat. Her eyes went wide, and Luke realized she’d seen the
lightsaber under his
jacket. Before he could say anything, she’d taken a step back and drawn a small but wicked-looking pistol from her tool belt.

“You touch that laser sword and I’ll shoot you,” she said. “And you’ll get the same if you try to take over my brain. I’ve heard the stories, so don’t
try it.”

Threepio let out a squawk of protest, and Luke raised his hands slowly, imagining
his dreams coming to nothing because he’d frightened a teenage farm girl into shooting him.

“Farnay, take it easy,” he said. “I’m not a Jedi—the lightsaber belonged to my father. He’s dead—it’s my only connection to him.”

That was true, he thought sourly.

“What are you then?” Farnay demanded. “You’re paying Dad a crazy amount of credits not to report your ship to the Empire. Are you
some kind of rebel?”

“Master Korl is a hyperspace scout, as he told your father,” Threepio said. “Don’t you know it’s rude to question your elders, young lady? To say nothing of
pointing weapons at them.”

Something was whispering in Luke’s brain, offering him reassurance—and telling him what to do.

“It’s all right, Threepio. Farnay, put the gun down. We both know you’re not going
to shoot me.”

“I will, too!”

Luke lowered his hands slowly and looked into Farnay’s eyes.

“My real name is Luke Skywalker, and I
am
a rebel—I’m fighting to restore freedom to the galaxy.”

“Oh dear, oh dear,” Threepio said.

Farnay blinked at him, then lowered her pistol. Her hands were shaking.

“By getting rid of the Empire? But that would mean chaos…chaos and disorder.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Luke said. “It would mean peace and justice for everyone—instead of just a privileged few.”

“You’re crazy. Overthrowing the Empire is impossible.”

“It’s
not
impossible,” Luke said, remembering how he’d used the Force to guide his proton torpedo to its target on the Death Star. “Sometimes it feels that
way, I know. But people like me are working together on thousands
of worlds to resist the Empire. And on thousands more worlds, people are realizing that the Empire’s order comes at an
enormous price—planets ruined and lives lost. All to feed the Emperor’s greed.”

Farnay looked off into the jungle.

“Before the war with the droids, when my parents were young, people in this town were farmers,” she said. “They followed the old ways, living in harmony
with the forest
elders—that’s what
pikhron
means in our language. Then the Empire came. Their governor wanted to go on a pikhron hunt, but no one would take him. So the Empire told us we
couldn’t send our crops to market—they left them to rot in the fields. It was lead the hunts or starve.”

Luke nodded. It was a small cruelty compared with the crushing of freedom on so many worlds, not
to mention the obliteration of Alderaan. But Luke knew the Empire wasn’t just warships and
stormtroopers. It was a billion small cruelties, grinding up what people cherished and leaving ruin and hopelessness behind.

“Now most of the villagers don’t care about the old ways, and there aren’t many pikhrons left in the jungle,” Farnay said. “My father makes his living fixing the
outlanders’
starships—he won’t serve as a guide.”

“But you do,” Luke said gently.

“My mother died last year,” Farnay said, tears starting in her eyes. “I had to do something, or we would have lost our house. Dad was so angry with me, but what choice did I
have? But it doesn’t matter—no one hires me unless there isn’t anybody else left. I’ve never bagged a pikhron.”

“No skins, huh?”

“None,”
Farnay said, then smiled wanly. “I’m not sad about that part. But things will be different now, here in Tikaroo. That’s why the rebels sent you here,
isn’t it? To help us.”

“No,” Luke said. “I wasn’t sent here. I was…called. To the temple.”

Farnay took a step back, looking wary. She slowly began to raise her blaster.

“Called? Called by what?”

“I don’t know,” Luke admitted. “It’s…hard
to explain. But I’m afraid my mission is there, not here.”

Farnay turned away, head bowed in disappointment.

“But if you’re patient, I promise I’ll find a way to help Tikaroo,” he said. “Somehow what I find in the temple will show me how to do that.”

“I don’t understand,” Farnay said.

Luke smiled. He could almost feel the Force, humming around them, binding the jungle and its creatures
together.

“Neither do I,” Luke said. “Not yet. But I will.”

W
HEN LUKE AND THREEPIO returned to the depot a lean alien was sitting in a chair on the porch, cleaning a long, boxy-looking blaster rifle. As
the young rebel approached, the alien lifted his head—and Luke took a reflexive step backward.

He saw no visible eyes or mouth, just four segmented plates of chitin, the largest at the top. Small bristles lined the gaps between the plates, waving
slightly. The rest of the alien’s
head was hidden beneath a battered old helmet of gray metal. Black tubes ran from the helmet’s cheeks to a control box strapped to the alien’s chest, tucked between bandoliers with
bulging pockets. From the control box, two more tubes extended back over his shoulders.

The alien’s forearms were covered with chitinous plates resembling the ones on his head,
and studded with wispy hairs. He wore a torn cape over his left shoulder, and mismatched armor
protected his left forearm and right shoulder.

Luke couldn’t remember seeing an alien of his species before. He wondered what purpose the control box and tubes served. Were they breathing tubes? Did this species even breathe?

The alien finished inspecting the rifle and cocked his head at the
two new arrivals. Despite his lack of eyes, Luke had the feeling he was being scrutinized—and not particularly
favorably.

“You’re Marcus—the outlander who wants to go on a pikhron hunt.”

The words emerged from a vocoder grill at the helmet’s chin. The voice was deep and low, like the rumble of an approaching storm.

“I’m not a hunter, but I want to hire a guide, yes. Are you available,
Mr.…?”

“Sarco Plank.” The blank face seemed to regard Luke, and the cilia between the plates vibrated feverishly. “I’ll take you into the jungle. For the right price.”

Luke felt a strange current rippling in the Force.

“All of the other guides said no,” he said. “Why are you different?”

“Because I don’t listen to tall tales about ghosts and sorcerers. And because I have my own
gear and mounts. So there’s nothing that old Porst can do about it.”

That feeling in the Force was still there, like a bad taste in Luke’s mouth. He didn’t know if it was connected to Sarco, or something else. But even if it was a warning about Sarco,
what could he do? Farnay’s half-grown pack beast would never be able to take them, and no other guides were available. It was either go with
Sarco or risk the journey on his own. And he had a
rebel mission to get back to.

“Very well,” Luke said, wondering if he was making a mistake—and if so, what price he would pay for it.

Two hours later, Luke came down from his room with the droids to find Sarco outside the depot with a pair of massive creatures. They had gray flesh, broad flat noses, and beady
black eyes that were almost
invisible in their wrinkled faces. Their forelegs were stubby, ending in broad feet, while the back legs were longer and powerful-looking.

Sarco cinched a howdah over one of the beast’s shoulders and tightened it. The creature grunted in protest, and Sarco aimed a kick at its head, causing it to open a broad gash of a mouth
filled with flat yellow teeth. It snapped at Sarco, stomping each
foot in turn.

“We might as well be devoured right here,” Threepio said mournfully, and Artoo let out an electronic moan.

“The happabores don’t eat flesh,” Sarco said. “Or metal. Just stay away from their mouths. And feet.”

“That doesn’t make me feel much safer,” Threepio said.

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Luke said, trying to conceal his own doubt. “Come on, Threepio, let’s get
you and Artoo saddled up.”

He and Sarco struggled to get Threepio up onto the seat atop the smaller happabore, with the golden droid protesting mightily. Luke then tied Artoo on his side behind Threepio. He tugged on the
ropes to make sure the astromech was secure, and Artoo hooted unhappily, rotating his dome to fix his single electronic eye reproachfully on Luke.

“I know you don’t
like it,” Luke said, patting the droid’s side. “I don’t like it, either. We’ll get you down from there as soon as possible.”

As Sarco secured a pair of hunting rifles to the lead happabore’s howdah, Farnay came charging around the corner of the depot. She stopped short, mouth a shocked O, and then balled her
hands into fists.

“Uh-oh,” Luke said.

“So it’s true, then,” she said. “I
didn’t want to believe it! You’re actually going into the woods with the Scavenger!”

“You know I don’t like that name,” Sarco growled. “Or kids telling tales.”

“Tales about what?” Farnay asked. “Your customers who don’t come back?”

She turned to Luke, eyes pleading.

“He’s a wicked creature—don’t go with him! I’m begging you!”

“Perhaps it would be better if Artoo and I stayed
here and supervised repairs,” Threepio said.

Luke put his hands on Farnay’s shoulders.

“I’ll be careful,” he said quietly. “Remember, I’ve got a trick or two up my sleeve.”

“So does he,” Farnay said. Tears started in her eyes and she wiped at them. Then she ran off.

“Time to go, Marcus,” Sarco said, stepping on a stubby horn behind the happabore’s eye and swinging himself up onto
the howdah’s forward seat.

Luke looked sadly in the direction Farnay had gone, then put his hands uncertainly on the happabore’s shoulder. The gray flesh was thick and tough, but warm to the touch. Bracing himself,
he clambered up onto the howdah’s rear seat, his jacket flapping open as the structure swayed beneath them.