The Jedi Academy Trilogy_ Jedi Search Part 9

Luke raised his eyes, blinking in disbelief. The people of Eol Sha still waited for him.

Most of the stepping stones had been washed away in the turmoil.

Nothing but impa.s.sable lava remained between him and Gantoris. He could not finish his journey. Giddy with terror and a backwash of possibilities from the Force, Luke stared at the impa.s.sable river of flames between him and his goal.

He thought of the potential for his proposed academy, for the return of the Jedi Knights. The New Republic needed him. He had to complete his promise. He would gather candidates to teach the ways of the Force. He would. Without a doubt in his mind, still throbbing with the Force after his battle against the fireworm, he closed his eyes.

Luke walked across the lake of fire.

He did not think about it. The lava refused to touch his feet. Only the Force burned bright around him. One step after another, he strode across the flaming rock, letting himself see nothing but his goal until he stood again on solid ground on the far side of the lake of fire, with Gantoris and his people.

When he reached safety, he nearly collapsed with relief, but he could not allow himself to show a change of expression. He tried not to think about what he had just done.

Gantoris stood before him, an expression of awe on his broad face.

The others backed away, but Gantoris remained motionless. He swallowed as he met Luke's gaze. "I will abide by my promise." He drew a deep breath.

"Teach me how to use this mysterious power within me."

Without a thought Luke reached forward with trembling hands and touched Gantoris's head. He sent mental fingers inward, probing to the back of the other man's mind, searching until he found the mysterious nub in Gantoris's subconscious, and pushed--The strength of his reflexive reaction knocked Luke backward so that he had to catch his balance before tumbling into the lava. Gantoris did indeed have the Jedi potential, enough to make him a formidable candidate for the Jedi academy.

Luke allowed himself a sigh of relief. The terror and the testing had been worth it. He took Gantoris's hand, then looked at the gathered survivors of the abandoned colony.

"We will find a new home for your people. But first you will come with me to Coruscant."

Lando Calrissian's s.h.i.+p, the Lady Luck, received clearance from a bored-sounding traffic controller to land in the s.p.a.ceport of Umgul. As the s.h.i.+p coasted through the misty atmosphere, Lando was amazed at the number of private s.h.i.+ps, s.p.a.ce yachts, and luxurious ground skimmers bustling around the landing center.

Lando cruised with the other traffic over flatlands surrounding a broad river on his way to Umgul City. Fleets of sail barges drifted over the sluggish river. Looking down, he could see flas.h.i.+ng lights and gyrating bodies that spoke of wild parties on the barge decks.

A moist planet, but cool, Umgul was frequently blanketed by dense fog and low-hanging clouds; even now, in the middle of the day, wisps of mist drifted up from the river and spread across the lowlands. Though unremarkable in resources and strategic importance, Umgul had earned galactic fame as a sports center, home of the renowned Umgullian blob races.

The Lady Luck followed her designated vector to a s.p.a.ceport carved into limestone bluffs rising above the river. Accompanied on either side by tiny two-person pleasure skimmers, Lando brought his s.h.i.+p through the cavern mouth. He barely managed to avoid hitting a blue zeppelin full of tourists. Inside, hairy attendants wearing bright-orange vests directed the Lady Luck into her parking stall by waving handheld laser beacons.

Lando turned to the two droids next to him in the pilot's compartment. "Are you boys about ready to have fun?"

Artoo beeped something Lando could not understand, but Threepio straightened in indignation. "We are not here to have fun, General Calrissian. We are here to a.s.sist Master Luke!"

"I'm here as a private citizen going to the blob races." Lando jabbed a finger at him. Being in close quarters with Threepio for only a day had already been enough for the prissy droid to get on his nerves.

"You are my protocol droid, and you'd better play the part--or I'll have you run a complete diagnostic of all the sewage-control systems on Umgul City."

"I ... understand clearly, sir."

As the Lady Luck's ramp tongued out, Lando stepped into the chaos of the Umgullian reception center. Voices blurred by background noise made perpetual announcements over the intercom systems. Roars from departing vehicles echoed in the grotto. Acrid smells of exhaust fumes and engine-fueling ports stung Lando's nostrils.

Nonetheless, he held his head high and strode down the ramp, swirling his cape and beckoning the two droids to follow. "Threepio, can you understand any of those announcements? Figure out where we're supposed to go."

Threepio scanned the data walls that listed services offered by Umgul City. Text scrolled out in several languages. Four stubby vendors rushed over to the new visitor, pus.h.i.+ng trinkets and souvenirs at Lando.

The scruffy-looking hucksters were Ugnaughts, the ugly little maintenance creatures that filled the lower levels of Cloud City.

"Why not bring a baby blob home for the kids, sir?" The Ugnaught thrust out a greenish, oozing ma.s.s that looked like a fist-sized wad of phlegm.

"How about some blob candy, sir? Best in the city! My secondary mate makes it at home." The gelatinous blob candy looked identical to the baby blob the first Ugnaught had offered.

"Good-luck charm?" said a third Ugnaught. "Works for all religions!"

Lando waved them away. "Threepio, where are we going?"

"Adjusting for local time, sir, I believe there is an important blob race beginning in less than one standard hour. The Umgullian ma.s.s-transit systems will take us directly to the blob arena. I believe the ma.s.s-transit access is--" The four Ugnaught souvenir vendors began falling over each other offering to guide the fine gentleman to the arena. "--to our left." Threepio gestured to a brightly painted tunnel entrance.

"Come on," Lando said and, without looking back, walked over to the ma.s.s-transit entrance. The disappointed Ugnaughts hurried off to hunt for other customers.

The ma.s.s-transit trip was like a roller-coaster ride without wheels. A slim tube-like car shot through the tunnel up to the top of the bluff, splas.h.i.+ng through high-rising fog and rus.h.i.+ng over woodlands where trees crammed into notches in the weathered limestone. The ground was a crazy quilt of bright signs describing tourist attractions, eating establishments, p.a.w.nshops, and high-interest, no-questions-asked gambling loans.

At the great entry kiosks to the blob arena, streams of people and other creatures pushed in, paying their credits and obtaining seat a.s.signments. Lando paid for himself but argued with the ticket-taking computer over whether his two droids were companions (and thus needed to buy tickets) or subservient information-processing attendants; Lando won the argument, though Threepio seemed insulted at being cla.s.sed as little more than an appliance.

The blob-racing stadium was a vast sinkhole that had collapsed into the top of the bluff, a circular pit in the rocky ground. The Umgullian stadium management had carved thousands of seats, stalls, pits, and sockets out of the sloping rocky walls to accommodate all manner of bodily configurations.

Giant whirring fans had been mounted around the rim of the sinkhole, generating a hefty breeze to shove back the encroaching fog that pushed in from all sides, driving it into the open air, where it dissipated.

After pus.h.i.+ng his way along the crowded halls, Lando found his seat, pleased to see that it had a good view of the entire "blobstacle course" below. The odds panel in front of his seat listed information about the fourteen blob challengers for the day's first heat and also counted down the twenty minutes remaining before the next race would begin.

A grin spread across Lando's face as he took in the smells of treats and condiments, saw whirring robotic drink dispensers drifting through the stands. He was enjoying this already. It brought back plenty of old memories.

As baron-administrator of Bespin's Cloud City, Lando had spent much of his time in the high-cla.s.s casinos, watching the tourists and high rollers. He had never seen blob racing before, but the excitement in the air made his heart beat faster.

Threepio fidgeted, looking at the crowd. A white ursine creature nearly knocked him over as it pushed its way to a seat farther down the mezzanine. Lando couldn't forget the primary reason why he was here, though. Mounted to Artoo's body core was the power pack of the Imperial Jedi-detecting device, and Lando kept the sheet-crystal detector paddles secured to his own side.

"Okay, Artoo. Let's see if we can find our friend Tymmo. Jack into the stadium computer and see if he's bought a ticket or placed a bet. If so, let's find out where he's seated."

The announcer's voice echoed around the arena. "Sentient beings of all genders--welcome to the galaxy-renowned blob races of Umgul! Before we begin this afternoon's first heat, we'd like to call your attention to next week's special gala blob derby to be hosted in honor of a visiting dignitary, the d.u.c.h.ess Mistal from our sister planet Dargul. We hope you'll all attend."

The apathetic reaction from the crowd told Lando just how many visiting dignitaries Umgul must host throughout the year.

"For this afternoon's event we'll be running fourteen thoroughbred racing blobs through a twelve-point blobstacle course that has been thoroughly inspected and certified by the galactic racing commission. All data on the age, ma.s.s, and viscosity of our racing blobs is available at the terminal in front of your seat."

Lando smiled grimly at that. Umgul City claimed to run clean blob races, and cheating was a capital offense. "What does he mean by "thoroughbred racing blobs"?" he asked.

Threepio heard him. "This species of blob has several variants that are used for different purposes throughout the system. Some upper-cla.s.s people actually keep them as pets. Others have seen certain medicinal value in blob treatment, such as letting a blob ooze across one's back for ma.s.sage therapy or soaking one's aching feet in the warm gelatinous ma.s.s."

"But these are racers?"

"Yes, sir, bred for speed and fluidity."

The announcer finished reading several standard disclaimers. "At this point we officially declare all betting substations to be closed.

The odds computer will post final probability tables, which are now available at your terminals. We shall begin the race in just a moment.

Please enjoy a refreshment compatible with your biochemistry while you wait!"

Hearing a ratcheting sound, Lando directed his attention to the rear of the playing field. Conveyor mechanisms raised the blob platforms to a high ramp, stopping in front of a gate that held the oozing blobs back from the launching slide. The fourteen separate chutes in the steep, lubricated ramp were designed to boost a blob's momentum at the starting signal.

"On your mark!" the announcer said.

Lando could sense a blanketing hush through the stadium as the spectators craned forward, staring at the chutes and waiting for the blobs to emerge.

A loud electronic tone reverberated through the air, like a bullet hitting a bra.s.s bell, and suddenly the gates flew open. The ramps tilted forward, spilling the multicolored blobs down the lubricated chutes.

Fourteen syrupy ma.s.ses tumbled and oozed pell-mell down the slides, striking the low walls and slithering as fast as they could to the bottom of the ramp. The blobs showed a range of colors, primarily grayish green but laced with bright hues. Variegated strands of vermillion stood out on one, turquoise on another, lime-green on a third. Each blob had a holographic number imprinted in its protoplasm; the number somehow stayed upright no matter which way the blob oriented itself.

With the chutes equally lubricated, all fourteen blobs struck the bottom of the ramp at about the same time. When the low walls no longer separated the tracks, the frantic blobs began to make their way helter-skelter around each other, gus.h.i.+ng forward into the blobstacle course.

One contender, Blob 11--a dark-green specimen laced with a striking amethyst pattern--burst onto the flat of the track with pseudopods already extended, as if trying to scramble away the moment it hit the bottom of the ramp. It squirted forward, clenching itself together and oozing its body core ahead.

The amethyst blob had pulled a small lead by the time it hit the first obstacle, a tall metal screen with a wide mesh. Blob 11 hurled itself onto the mesh grid with its full body and began to push its entire self through, dribbling in a hundred tiny segments out the other side, where it flowed its gelatinous ma.s.s back together again. It managed to push itself halfway through before the next blob struck a different part of the screen. Lando decided to cheer for the amethyst blob, though he had no money riding on the race. He still liked to root for winners.

The second blob took a different tactic, concentrating its body into a narrow streamer that spouted through one of the mesh holes, pouring its ma.s.s to the other side.

The amethyst blob finished rea.s.sembling itself on the bottom of the grid, took no time to rest, and pushed onward.

By this time all the other blobs were struggling to get through the first obstacle. The amethyst blob frantically mushed ahead, increasing its lead as if fleeing in terror.

"Go!" Lando shouted.

The second major obstacle proved more formidable. A tall ratline made of chain links led up to another steep, lubricated slide that dropped into a sharp, banked curve.

Blob 11 reached the bottom of the ratline and extended a pseudopod up to the first loop of chain, wrapping the jellylike tendril onto the flexible rung and extending another pseudopod again and again until it flowed like a tentacled amoeba, desperately hauling its amorphous form upward faster than gravity could slurp it back down.

The amethyst blob slipped, and a large segment of its body ma.s.s drooled downward, barely connected to the main core by a thin stream of mucus. According to the official rules posted in front of Lando's seat, the entire body ma.s.s of a blob had to get to the finis.h.i.+ng circle; it could not leave portions of itself behind.

The second and third blobs reached the bottom of the ratline, also trying to scramble up.

The amethyst blob hovered on the ratline, sagging as it worked to siphon its precariously balanced appendage back into the main core. The chain links began to work through the soft organic material, but the blob moved faster, finally drawing itself up, and hooked over another loop of chain. Behind it the next two blobs managed to ascend to the second level of chain loops.

Back at the first blobstacle, the last of the blobs squeezed through the mesh and began creeping at top speed toward the ratline.

Blob 11 reached the top of the ratlines and, coiling its ma.s.s, shot onto the steep, greased slide, rolling and spinning and tumbling. Its holographic number remained upright all the while. The blob reached the high banked curve at the bottom of the slide, rebounded, and gushed toward the next blobstacle.

The crowd was roaring and shouting now. Lando felt exhilaration burst through him. He decided he'd have to return to Umgul when he had more time to relax, to make a few real bets.

"Excuse me, sir, but are we expressing enthusiasm for Blob Eleven?"

"Yes, Threepio!"

"Thank you, sir. I just wanted to be certain." The droid paused, then amplified his voice. "Go, number eleven!"

The second and third blobs reached the top of the ratlines simultaneously, and both leaped onto the lubricated slide, squirting down at an alarming rate. Many of the spectators jumped out of their seats and screamed with excitement.

The two blobs tumbled next to each other, grappling with pseudopods and rolling. The steep, banked curve rose up in front of them like a wall.

"Oh, I can't watch!" Threepio said. "They're going to cras.h.!.+"

The two blobs both struck the corner at the same instant and splattered into each other, forming one giant ball. The crowd roared with absolute delight.

"Total fusion!" the announcer cried.

The spectators continued to cheer. The two blobs had combined into one much larger ma.s.s, and they seemed to be working at cross purposes, trying to lumber over to the side of the track and out of the way of other oncoming blobs. Meanwhile, the amethyst blob increased its lead.

"Those two are out of the race," Lando muttered.

Artoo returned, bleeping with excitement. "Excuse me, sir,"

Threepio said, "but Artoo has located our man Tymmo. He has indeed come to the races and placed a very large bet. We have his seating a.s.signment.

We can go see him now if you wish."

Lando was startled to be interrupted during the race; then he jumped to his feet. "We found him already?"

"Yes, sir. And as I said, he has placed a very large bet, if you take my meaning, sir."

"Let me guess," Lando said. "On Blob Eleven, right?"

"Correct, sir."

"Looks like he's done it again," Lando said. "Let's go."

They pushed past other spectators who had not bothered to take seats, then emerged into the flagstoned halls. Lando allowed Artoo to lead, puttering down near-empty interior corridors. Lando was reluctant, wanting to see the outcome of the compet.i.tion. "Hurry up, Artoo."

The little droid hummed downhill toward the lower levels of the sinkhole stadium. Through a graffiti-scrawled archway they pa.s.sed into the section of least expensive seats filled with desperate-looking people, the ones who had staked everything on guessing the winner of just one race. Somehow Lando hadn't expected a winner as lucky as Tymmo to be in the low-rent section. Maybe he was trying to keep a low profile.

Though support pillars and debris screens crowded the view this far down in the crater, Lando could see that Blob 11 had increased its lead substantially, a full obstacle ahead of the remaining nine blobs. Farther back on the track two blobs lay motionless and rubbery in a bed of desiccant, too slow to cross the deadly obstacle before they suffered terminal dehydration.

The surviving blobs worked at stringing themselves through a sequence of metal rings dangling on ropes, each swaying and trying to extend a pseudopod to the next ring before the pendulum motion stretched it to the breaking point.

The amethyst blob had already crossed the desiccant trap and the rings and was now oozing precariously over a long bed of sharp spikes that continually poked through its outer membrane. Tireless, Blob 11 threw itself forward with wild abandon, not heeding the spears jabbing through its body.

Artoo whistled, and Threepio pointed to a man three benches down.

"General Calrissian, Artoo says this is the man we want."

Lando squinted at Tymmo. Young and attractive, but with a fidgety, furtive look, he had a disreputable air. Though his blob was winning by a wide margin, he did not seem elated. The other people around him cheered or wailed, depending on where they had cast their bets, but Tymmo just sat and waited, as if he already knew the outcome.

Blob 11 dragged the last of itself off the bed of nails, tugging to remove a few clinging strands from the spike points. The nails had slowed it to a crawl just in front of the next obstacle--a slowly turning propeller blade with razor edges.

The amethyst blob poised itself but seemed too panicked to plan the best way through the spinning blades. It squirted forward, elongating to gain speed, then shoved its body into the gap between the whirring fan blades. About a quarter of the blob made it through before the sharp edges slashed through, bisecting it.

Mucus squirted but clung in one long, liquid thread on the propeller blade. One segment of the blob waited safely on the other side of the blobstacle. The remaining three quarters hunched, then lunged through the next gap in the blades. This time half of its ma.s.s pa.s.sed successfully through, and the second segment oozed forward to rejoin the first small ma.s.s. The rest of Blob 11 made it through with only a nick in its posterior portion, but as the fan blades spun around again, droplets of slime on the edges congealed into a small lump and dropped off, rolling to safety, where all the portions conjoined once more.