The Rebel League and the Death Ray, Part 4

As it turned out, the Cantina was two streets down from Ben's shop. It was Tatoonie's red-light district, or the closest thing it had to one. Every building was a relic from a hundred years before, with faded bricks and peeling paint. The neon signs advertising cheap bars, liquor stores, girlie clubs, and pawn shops sizzled as they blinked over the pimps, hustlers, and punks on the streets.

“Mos Eisley District.” Ben moved his wallet to his front pocket as he emerged from the passenger's side. “You will never find a more wretched hide of scum and villainy. We must be cautious.”

Luke wrinkled his nose at the dilapidated corner bar with the slightly tattered green awnings. “Are you really sure we'll find your friend here?”

“Most of the men here are willing to be hired for certain...side jobs, for a price.” He put a hand on Luke's shoulder. “Only watch your step. This place can be a little rough.”

The boy lifted his chin proudly. “I'm ready for anything.”

“We're not.” Charlie grabbed Rudy by his collar. “There's no way we're going into that awful place. It looks terribly seedy. Why, the whole building could fall down around our ears at any minute!”

“I agree.” Ben nodded. “Stay and look after the car. And lock yourselves in. You saw what happened with the Tusken Raiders earlier. There's worse things on the streets than them.”

Charlie gulped. “I can see your point, sir. We'll lock the doors tight and only open them to you and Luke/” He had to drag a protesting Rudy away before the other two headed into the heavy black-lacquered wooden door.

The narrow room was so smoky, Luke had to swat a puff away before he could see much besides outlines. A couple of bald guys in rusty black suits played “It's Only Rock and Roll” by the Rolling Stones. The furnishings mainly consisted of a scarred bar with cracked olive-green vinyl stools and matching booths whose seats were pitted with burns and permanent marker graffiti. The customers crowded at the bar were even scarier than the ones outside. Every single one was easily bigger than Luke both ways, clad in greasy jean jackets, battered leather jackets, or loose tank tops that showed off hairy chests. The few women were even tougher than the men, or sitting in their laps.

Luke was surprised to see a big furry mutt of a dog go bounding into Ben and nearly land him on the floor. He petted the creature and whispered at where its ears probably were. It was fascinating, how Ben appeared to almost be able to communicate with it. The dog whined and pointed a paw at the booth in the back.

Luke had just ordered a Brown Derby Beer when he was jostled by a little man on the stool next to him. The fellow had a head as bald as the guys on the stage and bug eyes that looked like they were about to fall out of his head. The youth suspected he'd just been in the bathroom with some pretty interesting drugs, maybe heroin. “My friend doesn't like you.” He indicated the man next to him, a frizzy-haired gentleman with a nose that looked like Jack Nicholson's in Chinatown after the thugs got through with him. “I don't like you, either. We're wanted criminals, pal. You'd best keep your mind on that little pansy drink of yours.”

It was suddenly getting a little too close in here for Luke. “I'm sorry.” He shrank away as best he could.

“That's not good enough.” The little man was starting to resemble a frog, complete with a long, sticky tongue that kept licking his lips. “You're gonna be dead, brat.”

Ben suddenly appeared from nowhere with the dog by his side. “This little one isn't worth the trouble. Let me buy you a whiskey...”

Everything happened so quickly. Luke jumped away the moment the frog man whipped out a gun. Before he could use it, Ben had a khyber sword of his own out. A neon blue glow briefly lit up the room before the man stumbled out, screaming over a bloody hand.

Luke stumbled into Ben in horror. “What happened? Ben...Ben, how did you...”

“That's one of the things I'll be teaching you.” He narrowed his eyes and whipped his head to take in the rest of the crowd. “Anyone else want trouble?” Luke had never seen people back away from someone so fast.

“This is Chewbacca.” Ben stroked the huge dog's soft fur. “His owner may be able to help us get to Aldera Hills undetected.”

The dog's owner sat in the shadowy corner bar. Battered cowboy boots were propped up on the tables. “Damn, Ben.” His slightly nasal drawl reeked of the Midwestern Rust Belt. “I thought you only kept that little rock stick around to scare off burglars. Where'd you learn how to do that, the Lord of the Rings books?” The man was tall and handsome, with messy auburn hair, almond-shaped hazel eyes that twinkled in amusement, and a small, sardonic smile. His collarless white button-down shirt was open half-way down, revealing considerable chest hair. A black cotton vest lead to a belt with a buckle larger than his head and a pair of dirty blue jeans.

“I've studied that all my life, Harris.” Ben swiped at his leg. “And please get your feet off the table. It's uncivilized.”

“Who wants to be civilized?” The man smirked at Luke, but he did remove his feet.. “Harris Arietta, kid.” He patted the dog under the table. “And this is Chewbacca. I've been told you guys need my...particular expertise...to get across town.”

“I know you still have that van of yours...and all the equipment in it.” Ben leaned across the table. “We need to get to Aldera Hills, the mansion of Bail and Breha Ortega in the Aldera Heights district.”

“That fancy part of town?” Harris raised an eyebrow as he slugged back a shot of bourbon. “Can't you just take a bus?”

Ben sighed. “Let's just say we'd like to avoid any entanglements with Vader and his Empire. Besides, neither the bus nor the train would be fast enough. This must be done as quickly and discreetly as possible.”

The springs in the ancient booth creaked as Harris leaned back. “That's the real trick, isn't it? And it's going to cost you extra this time, Ben. I want ten thousand. In advance.”

“Ten thousand?” Luke snapped. “We could buy our own fast car for that!”

Harris directed that little smirk at him. “But I'll bet it wouldn't have the kind of gear my Millennium Falcon has.” Chewbacca growled from under the table. His owner gave him half of his hamburger.

“It's good enough!” Luke started to stand, but Ben pulled him back down. “We don't have to stay and listen to this!”

Ben patted his shoulder before returning to Harris. “We can pay you three thousand now,” he insisted. “Plus another four thousand when we reach Aldera Hills. The Ortegas are one of the wealthiest families in the city. Bail is a district attorney, and his wife is one of the queens of city society.”

“Seven thousand, huh?” Harris' brows furrowed as he appeared to think it over. “All right. You boys got yourselves a driver. Meet me at the parking lot of the Quality Hotel a couple of blocks down the street in about an hour.” Chewbacca whined under the table and pawed his owner's leg. “Looks like someone's taking an interest in your handy work there, old man.” Harris nodded at the men in white jumpsuits and helmets who were asking people at the bars questions.

Chewie climbed onto the booth as Luke and Ben hurried off. “Seven thousand? Just to help them get across town? Ben must be really desperate. This could really save our necks, boy.” Chewbacca looked up, his ears flattening. He growled as another figure, this one in a cheap pale green leisure suit, took Ben's place in the booth.

“Well, hello there, Arietta,” the man sneered, his short black pistol trained on Harris. “You know the boss wants that money, and he wanted it last week. And what Jake Hunter wants, he gets. Or you and that furry mountain down there get a long walk off a short pier at Endor Amusements.”

“I have the money, Greenie. Or I will, once I take a couple of guys across town.” Harris reached into his pocket for his own gun. “Tell Jake...”

“Jake's through with you and your mouth.” Greenie's fluffy red curls bobbed with every word. All his freckles stood out on his long and slightly greenish face. “He has no use for guys who don't bring in their deliveries on time.”

Harris made a face. “Even I get stopped by the cops every now and then. Do you think I had a choice about dumping the coke?”

“Tell that to Jake.” Greenie smirked. “He may only take that rusting hulk you call a van.”

The man in the cowboy boots narrowed his eyes. “Over my dead body.”

“That's the idea.” Greenie waved the gun, snuffling that long, straight nose of his. “I've been waiting for a long time to do this.”

Harris grinned. “Yeah, I'll bet you have.”

It was too dark for anyone to see what happened clearly after the guns went off and Chewie let out a howl. Later, when the Shadow Men asked the bar patrons who killed whom, some would say Harris shot Greenie first. Others claimed Greenie shot first, but missed Harris.

At any rate, Harris was the only one who walked out. He settled his straw cowboy hat on his head and tossed a few coins to the bartender. “Sorry about the mess.” No one got near him or Chewbacca as they sauntered to the street together.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Are you sure about this?” Luke asked Ben as they walked out of the Coruscant Savings Bank on the other side of town. “That's your life savings!”

The older man sighed as they returned to Luke's car. “Everyone has two or three mortgages nowadays, Luke. It'll be enough.”

“I'd sell my car, but it's not in the best shape, and my aunt uses it, too.” Luke made a face. “How well do you know this Harris person? Is his van really that fast?”

Ben shrugged. “He claims it is. I've never seen it. He usually parked it in the lot in back of the shop when he built my display racks.” He tucked the folded envelope with the check in his pocket. “I don't really know that much about him. He didn't talk much when he was working for me.”

The Quality Hotel was just two steps above a flophouse. Harris was leaning over the hood of the most dilapidated Volkswagon van Luke had ever seen. The words “Millennium Falcon” were spray-painted in silver and red across the dirty white sides. “What a piece of junk!” Luke whined. “And we're going to Aldera Hills in that?”

Harris shut the hood, giving him that little smirk. “You'd be surprised, kid. She can do up to 110 on the open highway. I once did the Kessel Run in less than three minutes in this baby.” He tugged open the side door, then opened the passenger door and let the dog in. “We're a little rushed, so if everyone would just get a move on.” He shook his head as Rudy made for the passenger door. “Sorry, short stuff. Chewie's my co-pilot. He gets shotgun.”

Rudy started to protest, but a laser shot at his feet ended his complaints quickly. Five Shadow Men in gleaming black and white armor landed near the van, their shining outfits a glaring contrast to the rusted van. Even as they took more shots at the back, Harris got the engine going, and the car roared to life and out of the parking lot.

They didn't get further than the Siegal Expressway before Harris caught sight of three white and black Corvette Stingrays, shooting laser bullets that nearly melted his tires. “Our passengers must be hotter than I thought,” he muttered as Chewie whined in the red upholstered seat next to him. “I'm gonna try to lose 'em. Hold on, boy.”

“Why don't you outrun them?” Luke complained as he popped his head through the tattered curtain that separated the front seats from the back area. “I thought you said this thing was fast!”

“Watch your mouth, boy, or I'm dumping you right here.” Harris shoved open a panel in the front...revealing a series of blinking knobs, dials, and computer screens that were far more sophisticated than the kind of equipment normally found in a VW bus. “We'll be fine once I get the turbo engines warmed up. Besides, I have a few tricks up my sleeve. We'll lose 'em.”

A flick of a switch, and black goop spewed onto the highway behind them. Two of the Stingrays managed to avoid it, but one took it too fast and wound up spinning into two cars and a guard rail. Harris just barely avoided another car as he turned off the Expressway, trying to lead them away from busy roads and onto side streets.

“Ohhhh!” Charlie's yellowish face was now a shade of pea-green more commonly seen in canned pea soup. “Please don't take the turns so quickly! My stomach can't handle the rattling! I get motion sickness easily!”

Harris rolled his eyes. “There's a bucket under the sink if he needs to use it. Just hold on back there.”

He winced as one of the Stingrays slammed into their backside. “Oh damn!” Luke peered out a window. “They're riding our tail! That's a nasty dent on that...”

“Probably no worse than all the other dents it has.” Harris yanked at a lever. The bumper suddenly jumped out on metal arms, shoving the Thunderbird off the road. It careened through a park and ended up in a duck pond, covered with weeds and droppings from angry fowl.

Chewie howled as the last Thunderbird shoved into the side of the van, sending everyone and everything the back to the floor. Harris growled, quickly checking one of the blinking screens. Then the light for the engine flashed, and the engine made a roar that sounded more like Godzilla eating Tokyo.

“Darn it! Think I bruised my elbow pretty good...” Luke was rubbing his arm as he popped his head in again. “What's that flashing?”

Harris slapped his pointed finger. “The Turbo engine is ready to go. Tell everyone to get strapped in back there.”

He'd just managed to get his seat belt on when the bus blasted forward! It swept across Landis Lane and through the Harvey Acres Mall parking lot, scaring more than a few shoppers. Even the Stingrays couldn't keep up with them. It was finally left far behind as Harris swung back on the Siegal Expressway.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Leia was getting very tired of sitting. She'd been tied to the soaking-wet chair in the otherwise-empty room for nearly two hours now. Water occasionally sprayed over her in a soft mist from the old sprinkler system. Other than her and the sprinklers, the room was empty. They were at a factory, probably one of the abandoned hulks in the Mimban district, if the view of corroded pipes and crumbling brick she could see out the windows was any indication. Attempts to use her powers had lead her nowhere. Water flooded the room up to her ankles, probably coming from the near-by Hosnia River.

“Dr. Tarkin.” She snarled as the skeletal older man in the gray suit strutted in, followed by Vader in his shiny black suit and mask. “Or should I call you The Doctor of Death? I'd long suspected you were holding Vader's leash. Should have recognized that smell of formaldahyde the moment they dropped me in here. What poor slob have you been experimenting on this time?”

The thin older doctor took her round cheeks between his fingers. “Isn't she charming, Vader? She always was. It's too bad she's going to be caught in a little...accident...with the sprinkler valves here.”

Leia narrowed her eyes. “You can do what you want, both of you. You can't intimidate every single business in town. The tighter you hold, the more businesses will slip through your fingers.”

“Perhaps.” The two men turned to the cracked windows with a panoramic view of the valley. “Since you're reluctant to tell us where the tapes are hidden, we're going to do another practice of our magnificent new Death Star ray in the valley area. Say, around Aldera Hills?”

“No!” Leia nearly shouted. “It's a residential area! People live there! You can't...”

Tarkin glared at her. “You would prefer a less high-profile target, Force Girl? Then tell me where those tapes are.”

“Dantoonie,” she muttered, looking at the floor, anywhere but at Tarkin. “They're in Dantoonie, off Claremont Drive.”

The older man pulled back, sneering at Vader. “See? She can be reasonable.” He turned to the man in the gray jumpsuit behind him. “You may fire when ready.”

Leia's jaw nearly hit the floor. “WHAT?!”

“Dantoonie is too far out of range to make an effective show.” He yanked Leia by the hair. “We'll show the rest of Coruscant what happens when you go against the Empire.”

“No!” Leia struggled wildly. Her seat tipped over, and she landed on the floor with a crash. “You can't! Come back here, you bastard!”

Vader's low hiss was almost drowned out by the sizzle of the green light flashing in the window in front of her. “After Aldera Hills is gone, I want you to flood this room and terminate her.” He ignored her shrieks and continued struggles on the floor. “We have no more need of her.”

Her breathing was ragged and angry as she continued to flail on the floor. No sooner had Vader left than the sprinklers turned on full-force. She screamed and cursed Vader's name as he locked the heavy iron door behind him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The engines slowed to regular speed as he turned off the Expressway and onto the winding roads around Naboo Mountains. “You can forget all your troubles with those Imperial assholes,” Harris called from the driver's seat. “The last place they'd look for us are the Naboo boonies. I told you I'd outrun them.”

There was no reply from the back. Luke was practicing his sword work in the cramped living area, between the hand-made kitchen table and the trunk that held most of Harris' few possessions. Chewie had climbed around back after they entered Naboo and was now playing tug on an old rag with Rudy. Charlie watched the local news from Harris' tiny portable TV on the table. Mara Jadeson could be heard in the background, interviewing Coruscant police chief Darren Vedder about the recent attacks by the Rebel League.

“Don't everyone thank me at once,” the carpenter muttered. “Anyway, we should be at Aldera Hills in about a half-hour.”

No one paid attention to him. “Do be careful, Rudy!” Charlie fretted. “That creature is bigger than you are!”

“What? Him?” Rudy smirked as he yanked at the toy. “Nahh, he's a big ol' puppy dog. Ain't ya, boy?”

Chewbacca apparently did not like being called a puppy. He let out a fierce growl and tugged so hard at the rag, it tore suddenly, sending Rudy head over heels into the back of the table.

“Let it go,” Harris admonished. “It's not wise to upset a wookie dog.”

“Sir,” Charlie complained, “he's only a dog. No one worries about upsetting humans in that manner.”

Harris smirked. “Yeah, well, most humans don't tear off arms and use them for teething when they're upset. Wookies can do that.

Charlie coughed. “I see your point. I suggest you let the dog win this game, Rudy.”

His friend made a face. “Eh, I've had enough of this game, anyway.” The little man rubbed his rear as Chewbacca gave him a snort and climbed onto one of the benches for a nap.

The other two turned their attention to the sword duel going on. “Tell me more about these powers,” Luke asked as he deflected chewed-up balls Ben threw at him. “How do they work, anyway? No one was ever clear on that in the comics. They just seemed to...happen.”

“Focus, Luke. That's how they work.” Ben put out his own hand. “You must call your own resources, just like you did in the comics shop. Call the force deep within you.” He focused on the ball, making it raise into the air. Luke tried attacking it, only for it to bounce on the floor and smack him in the rear, making him jump.

Harris laughed from the driver's seat. “Oh, come on, Ben. Those comics of yours are just comics. Hokey powers ain't nothing compared to a real weapon by your side.”

“You don't really believe in much of anything, do you?” Luke insisted as he rubbed his backside.

“Kid,” the carpenter claimed, “I've been from one end of this globe to the other. I've seen a lot of strange shit. But I've never seen anything to make me believe that a guy can be Superman or Captain Marvel or whatever. There's no all powerful group controllin' my destiny. It's all a lot of kiddie stuff. This ain't Shazam or The Secret of Isis.”

Ben ignored Harris, bringing over a battered motorcycle helmet from the trunk in the back. “Let's try something different. You must learn to act on instinct.”

He plopped the helmet down on Luke's head. “Aw Ben,” Luke whined, “I can barely see with the visor down! How am I going to fight?”

“Luke, your eyes can deceive you.” Ben tossed another chewed tennis ball. “Don't trust them.”

Rudy and Charlie managed to squeeze in next to Chewie at the table as Luke attacked another ball. The blue light seemed to flow with his movements this time, bouncing the ball into the wall several times before splitting it in half.

“See?” Ben encouraged him as he tugged the helmet off. “You can do it.”

Harris snorted as he returned his gaze to the road. “I call that luck.”

“In my experience,” Ben insisted sagely, “there's no such thing as luck.”

“Look,” Harris smirked, “it's one thing to go up against a tennis ball. Goin' up against a livin', breathin' person is somethin' else again, old man.”

Luke joined Ben as he settled on the trunk. “You know, I could almost see the ball. I know I felt the light. It was like it was almost a part of me.”

“That's good, Luke. You've taken your first step into a larger world.” Ben's smile was instantly replaced by a wide eyed, worried stare. Luke gasped and rubbed at his chest, too. “Luke, did you feel it? It was like...a whole home...a family...crying out in terror...”

The wide-eyed college student nodded in horror. “They're all gone. Died in an instant. It was horrible!”

“You want to see horrible?” Harris stepped on the gas. “Take a look out the windows!”

Even as they all rushed to see, a green laser blasted out of the mountaintop near the Mufasar Iron Works and touched down in the valley, probably somewhere in Naboo. Somewhere entirely too close to where they were heading.

“What the hell was that?” Harris' jaw was nearly on the floor.

Charlie's brown eyes were wide as the traffic light they flew through. “I could ask the same thing. It looked like something from out of a science fiction program!”

“Or what we saw destroy the Erso Shipyards,” Rudy added angrily. “Old Metal Pants is at it again.”

Aldera Hills, one of the most historic mansions in Coruscant City, had been purchased and restored by Senator Bail Ortega and his wife Breha nearly 30 years before, when Ortega won his first big case as a district attorney. It was patterned after the lavish mansions of Los Angeles in the 20's and 30's, and after the mansions in Bail's native Mexico City. Luke once read that it employed more than 100 people to keep running and had at least 60 rooms and extensive gardens.

By the time Harris swung through the charred iron gate, there was nothing left of the house. Rubble and twisted iron stood where graceful arches and elaborate stucco work had once greeted guests. The Coruscant Fire Department was doing their best to put out the remaining blazes and keep it from spreading to the other mansions in the area. The few survivors stumbled into quilts or leaned dazedly against fire trucks and police cars.

“What happened?” Charlie gasped, nearly in tears. “Who could have done such a thing?”

“Vader.” Ben joined him at the window. “Destroyed by the Empire.”

“How could they do that?” Harris scratched his head. “It would take more firepower than even I could cobble together in a month. I've never seen anything like that outside of Logan's Run.”

Even as they were trying to figure out what to do next, the Channel 11 news van pulled up alongside them. “Well, well.” Mara Jadeson, looking as elegant as someone who just rushed halfway across town could manage, “look who's here. You seem to enjoy being around fires, Skylander.”

“And you enjoy being a nuisance.” Luke glared at her. “Go away. These people don't need your meddling. They have enough problems.”

“I have no intention of missing the story of the year.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “What are you doing here? I wasn't aware you were friends with the Ortegas.”

Harris leaned out the window and gave her his usual lazy smirk. “Look, doll, why don't you go cover some fashion show and lay the hell off the kid? He's had a rough day. So have these people, for that matter, if their home is currently in ten thousand pieces on the ground.”

“Shove it, asshole.” Her green eyes flicked from Harris to Ben. “MacKenner. My my, fancy seeing you here. Senator Ortega was an old friend of yours from the war, if what my guardian said is any indication. Care to make any comments, like, oh, why you happen to be here now, just after that laser obliterated this place?”

Ben's smile was a bit easier. “Oh, just paying our respects, young lady.”

“Why don't you try findin' Darth Vader?” Rudy yelled out the window. “You're a reporter. You hear things. You know damn well he's the one behind this.”

“Him?” She snorted. “He's just a myth. I don't chase myths. I chase realities.”

“That laser seemed awfully real,” Luke snapped, waving his hand at the remains of Aldera Hills. “Look at what it did to them!”

That was when another gleaming white and black Stingray sped past them, nearly side-swiping the Falcon on its way. “Hey!” Harris slammed on the horn. “Watch where you're going, asshole!” he screamed out the window.

“Harris,” Luke tugged on his shirt, “that was one of the cars that chased us on the way here! What are they doing all the way out here?”

“Don't know.” He started backing away from the gate. “But we're gonna find out.”

Rudy jutted a finger at Mara Jadeson as she watched from her van. “What about the red-head?”

“Let her find out on her own,” Harris grumbled as he pulled about two cars behind the Stingray, staying a respectable distance.

“You may as well let him go,” Ben insisted. The Stingray had just turned off Aldera Boulevard and onto Moore Road, down towards the Mimban industrial district. “It's too far out of range.”

“Not for long.” Harris shoved at the gas, making the car jump ahead. They wound their way down the valley, past crumbling row houses marked with colorful graffiti and ancient rusting factories that hadn't belched smoke in twenty years. The car finally pulled into the collapsing gates of an old Victorian heap of bricks and smashed glass.

Ben's voice rose. “The Mufasar Iron Works. He would hole up here.”

“He who?” The van slowed as Harris looked over his shoulder. “What do you mean, he? Do you know who owns this junk pile?”

“Yeah, I can take a wild guess, too.” Rudy wrinkled his nose. “Theatrical. Just his style. He always was a drama queen.”

Harris looked over his shoulder at the others. “Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?”

Three Shadow Men in gleaming white and black jumpsuits stopped them at the door. “Where are you going in this pile of rust?”

“Building A, Level 6 C.” The carpenter tried to give them his most innocent smile. “Maybe you could give us a hand. I'm kind of new here. Was just hired last week.”

The moment the first man leaned into the driver's side, Harris flung open the visor and hit him square in the face. He fell against a pile of metal pipes, unconscious. The other two were lifted bodily and flung into another pile of old tires.

Ben stepped out first. “We need to get inside, before these three sound the alarm.”

“Yeah.” Harris was already starting to strip off the first man's jumpsuit. “And I know how to do it. Luke, Charlie, get jumpsuits on the other two guys. Ben, there's wire in the trunk you can use to tie up these jerks.”

Rudy helped Harris get the other man's boots off. “Phew!” He pinched his nose. “Whatever you do, don't smell their feet. Hot vinyl and old socks do not mix.”

“We're not here to criticize their fashion sense.” The carpenter grinned as he plopped the helmet on his head. His voice sounded eerie from behind the grille. “This is how we're gonna get inside.”