The Summer Strikes Back, Part 15

Luke had never been so sore. He'd spent the last five days working out and running and surfing with Yoda. Even baseball practice at school in Philly wasn't this intense. Yoda ran alongside him, occasionally poking him with his knobby cane. It was a miracle that the old guy could keep up at all without a heart attack, never mind almost out-run him.

When the boy asked him how he did it, Yoda ancient prune face managed to look smug. “Years of work out and no-meat diet. When other Jedi Knights order fries and cheese steaks at diner, I order salad. Jokes, they make, but I am here, and most of them are not. Walk every day, I do. Worked out, I did, before doctor advised me to go easier on bones.”

Yoda insisted they start every day with a hearty breakfast of oatmeal and blueberries. His pupil took butter and brown sugar, but he insisted on having it plain. While Luke sipped the thick dark sludge the elderly surfer called coffee, his teacher drank Japanese green tea and read The Press of Atlantic City from cover to cover.

“Hmm.” Yoda sniffed. “What are youths today coming to? Found a body in bay behind Exxon in Ocean View, the owners did. Police believe it to be Imperial Gang member. Drowned, he was. Gang members may have held him down in bay before they dump him.”

Luke squinted across the table at the newspaper headline. The photo on the cover looked familiar. He'd seen that man just recently. He knew that blond mustache. He nearly spit out his coffee when it came to him.

“Holy sh...cow! That's one of the jerks the Rogues and I hit with our surfboards at Phineas Estate Park when the Imperials invaded the block party! I think he was with the Gang when they attacked the cottages, too. He was one of the ones we egged.” Luke gulped his coffee fast. If that was what they did to gang members who failed them, he shuddered to think what would happen if him or his sister or friends fell into their clutches again.

“Very foolish of gang to kill own members. Police will be on their trail now.” Yoda put the newspaper aside. “Go for five-mile run, we will. Good to clear our heads, it is.”

Luke didn't mind the running so much. He was used to it from baseball. At least the view was spectacular. The beaches along the Delaware Bay weren't nearly as popular or as well-known as the ones on the Atlantic Ocean. The sand was rockier and less smooth, and it lacked the boardwalk and other amenities of the larger Jersey Shore resorts. It did have some virtues, including high dunes with lots of grass that made for far more privacy and some of the most spectacular sunsets the young man had ever seen.

Learning new surfing moves was tougher. Yoda was a relentless teacher. After mediation in a sheltered place between dunes, they'd hit the waves for the rest of the day, stopping only for a quick lunch of salad or sandwiches ordered from a local deli. Every time Luke fell off, Yoda insisted he get right back on. They practiced every trick Luke had ever heard of, and even some he hadn't. Some of the tricks were so complex, he'd never gotten near them before.

Arturro frequently visited him at his beach. As it turned out, his uncle worked for an auto shop down the street. The boy got him to tow Luke's car and even helped work on the engine. He was running down the dune, yelling and waving a paper for Luke to sign, just as Luke was learning a complicated floater move. He slipped and fell off the board. His golden head emerged, but the board simply disappeared.

“Arturro!” Luke rubbed his head, groaning when he saw the surfboard go under the waves, vanishing again “That's just wonderful. We'll never find it out now. It was my brother's!”

“So certain are you.” Yoda shuffled over to them in his baggy old shorts and faded “Surfing Is Life” t-shirt, his knobby knees creaking over black socks and sandals. “Always with you, it cannot be done. Hear you nothing that I or Ben say? Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you? To be professional surfer, you must be one with water. Water is force that surrounds us, binds us.” He stood at his full height, such as it was. He barely made it to Luke's hip. “Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter.” He poked Luke in the arm with his crooked walking stick. “You must unlearn what you have learned.”

“All right.” Luke sighed. “It has to be there somewhere. The undertow's not so heavy that it would have been knocked to Maryland.” He dove in again, but the water was cold and murky. All he could see was dirt and dune grass, no matter how hard he searched. He swam all up and down the shore, but found nothing, finally riding a wave back to shore on his stomach.

The wave was wilder than Luke thought. He lost control and ended up with a mouthful of sand and a belly covered in mud and slimy sea grass on the shore. As he swept his thick golden bangs back, a pair of black sandals and black knitted socks met his eyes...then a gleaming blue and yellow line...

“You found it!” Luke managed to get up onto his knees. “Where did you find it?” As he focused, he took in more of Yoda...and realized only his shoes and socks were a little bit wet. “You didn't go in the water.”

“Surfboard came to me, it did. Waves bring it back to shore.” Yoda just shook his head as Arturro got down next to him, holding out the paper on a notebook and a pen.

Luke took the pen, his sun-streaked hair dripping bay water onto the pages. “I don't believe it.”

Yoda sighed. “That is why you fail.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Chip Thompson was very out of sorts. For the last three days, almost no one had taken any notice of him. He was glad Arturro had given him his relatives' phone numbers. He'd called his best friend almost every night. Arturro was enjoying working with his uncle. His cousins were all computer enthusiasts and video game fans like him. He said he had at least six new ideas on how to make the engines for Maz Kantana's mechanical rides work even better.

That may have been all well and fine for Arturro, but he hadn't had as much fun since the first night they'd been there. Shopping had gone well, at least. He had two new plaid seersucker shirts, a new pair of shorts, new loafers, and a good dress shirt and slacks for going out on the town. Even Charles had been persuaded to buy a shirt that didn't advertise a British heavy metal band. He had to admit, Lance Callahan knew about clothes. He knew exactly what looked good on them and what didn't.

What Chip didn't understand was why Leia found Mr. Callahan to be so untrustworthy. He thought he was a perfect gentleman. Certainly more than Charles or Hank! He was always unfailingly polite, never saying an unkind word about anyone. He was intelligent in business, speaking often of his nightclub and how popular it was. Dinner was spent discussing topics as wide-ranging as the hurricane in Texas and President Regan building up the US military in response to the Soviets doing the same. Chip's lasagna was excellent, with just enough sauce and lots of cheese.

The sightseeing boat tour the next day was less fun. Hank and Leia held hands while Lance pointed out the sights. Hank's first mate preferred making friends with the sailors. He spent the entire two-hour trip heaving his breakfast over the side. The water was rougher than it had been when they were on the Millennium Falcon, and he'd forgotten to take seasickness pills before he left. He spent the rest of the day in Lance's condo, moaning and hiding in bed.

He'd still been in bed the next morning. Lance had gone to work. Something about a meeting with some very important people. Charles had returned to the Falcon to work on the engine. Hank and Leia went for a walk on the beach. Considering they spent most of the sightseeing tour necking and kissing, it was more likely they'd end up making love under the boardwalk.

Wandering through a series of largely residential side roads, he finally found himself on the edge of town. Fisherman's Basin, the archway over the main street claimed in simple blue and white letters. While there was still fishing done here, most of the warehouses had been converted to seafood restaurants and stores, condos, and nightclubs. He stopped at one especially arresting old fishery painted with a mural of a shining dark city, like something from the old Flash Gordon serials.

The cobalt blue door was open. Chip figured taking one peek wouldn't hurt. He tip-toed into a vast, dark room. The former fish warehouse had been transformed into a science fiction lover's wet dream. Glitter-covered “cloud” balls drifted in the starry ceiling “sky.” The walls continued the outdoor space them, showing people in white and silver costumes like something out of Buck Rodgers driving flying vehicles amid shining cities. Robots in every size, shape, and color accompanied them. Raised platforms and catwalks that had once held warehouse workers were now places for Men in janitor's uniforms swept debris from the ancient wooden floor.

He'd stopped to admire paintings of two rather familiar robots, one short and blue and white, the other tall and golden, when he heard voices in the office to his right. The first voice was a deep rasp that was frighteningly familiar. “Glad you kept those old fish tanks. They're not the most comfortable ways to travel, but it should be good enough to carry Luke Walker to the Big Man with no fussin'.”

“Are you crazy?” Lance Callahan shouted. “If you throw him in there, it could kill him! He's not a tuna!”

The deeper voice let out a snarky hiss. “How about we test it on Solokowski first? Might as well make some use of that asshole.”

“That wasn't part of our agreement!” Lance's voice rose angrily. “That or turning Hank over to Bobby Fett!”

A strangled gasp wheezed from behind the door. Chip peered through the frosted glass. Vader's black-gloved hand grabbed Lance by his neck and lifted him level with a too-familiar motorcycle helmet. “You think you're being treated unfairly, dude? I could let my boys loose on your little club. I don't know if you heard about what happened to the Order 66 Diner and Mufasar Hotel in Ocean View years ago, but that would be nothin' compared to the weenie roast we could have in here.”

Lance's eyes bulged. “Nooo....” he managed to gasp.

“Good. We understand each other.” Vader let Lance go, dropping him unceremoniously to the floor. Lance clutched the side of the laminated wood and beige metal desk as he caught his breath. The head of the Imperial Gang turned to two of his boys in gray and black jackets. “I want you to call Luke Walker and Ben Kenobi at the Cottages By the Sea in Ocean View. Tell them that if they want to see his sister and their other pals again, the kid will meet Vader at the Cloud City Club on Bespin Island tonight at 8 PM.”

The moment the door opened, Chip panicked. He grabbed the nearest broom and pushed the dirt around the floor, trying to fit in with the janitors. It worked...for five whole minutes. One of the Imperial Gang members, the older man in the impeccably tailored gray polo shirt and black shorts and short dark hair, pointed right at him. “Isn't he the boy with the glasses who escaped with Solokowski?”

The skinnier gang member in the gray Harley Davidson t-shirt nodded. “Yeah, it's one of the geeks! The one who tried to make us buy a ticket to that dumb fair. Grab him!”

“Oh dear!” Chip swung the broom handle at them, hoping to hit something. The handle connected with the younger man's shoulder. The one in the t-shirt went flying head over heels into his friend, who landed on a table. He took advantage of the distraction to race out of the building as fast as he possibly could.

His legs carried him into the nearest phone booth. When checking the slot for a quarter proved fruitless, he tugged his wallet out of his back pocket. “Thank goodness I always bring spare quarters. Never know when you might need to make a call.” Trembling fingers punched the number of Arturro's family's house as quickly as they could. “Please, please let him be home!”

Luckily for him, Arturro picked up on the second ring. “Arturro!” He shook his head as his friend let out a series of happy greetings. “I'm glad to hear from you too, but this is serious! We're on Bespin Island, and we're in considerable danger! They could kill us!” More gibberish, faster this time, rattled on the other end. “Who? The Imperials, that's who! They're going to kidnap Hank and Leia!” The gibberish on the other side of the line grew more agitated. “No, you and Luke are NOT to come up here! Not under any circumstances. That's what they want! They...”

A beefy black leather hand wrenched the receiver from Chip's shaky grasp. Another clamped hard over his mouth. Sinewy arms with triceps the size of his head dragged him out of the phone booth. “Nice try, geek wad.” Vader's respirator hissed in his ear. “I ain't lettin' you sound the alarm with that little foreign buddy of yours. I think we need to show you what happens to squealers.” He and the other two Chip had knocked over dragged the horrified young man into the nearest alley.