“You mean I’m stuck here?”
The prisoner nodded. “But it won’t be for long. From what I hear, none of the prisoners stay for long.”
“You mean they go free?” Zak asked.
“I didn’t say that,” the man replied.
Zak swallowed. “But when they see me, they’ll know there’s been a mistake. They’ll know I didn’t do anything.”
A grim laugh came from the other cell. “Neither did I. I just came here thinking of joining the B’omarr monks. I thought they’d accept me, too. I even passed some of their tests. One of them said I had great potential. The next thing I knew, Jabba’s goons had thrown me in prison.”
The B’omarr monks. Zak was beginning to get a bad feeling about them. Why were they so secretive? Why had one of their brain spiders chased him? And why had they let this man get thrown into Jabba’s dungeon? Zak heaved a frustrated sigh. If Tash had been with him, he knew they’d have figured it out together.
As his eyes adjusted to the deep gloom of his cell, Zak looked around his tiny prison. There were no chairs, not even a cot. A skeleton lay on the floor next to the door. One arm had been stretched forward, scratching at the door. The bones were dry and brittle. Whoever the prisoner had been, he had died long ago. By the looks of his untouched bones, the guards seemed to have simply forgotten about him.
Looking closer, Zak realized that the prisoner hadn’t been scratching at the door, he’d been chipping at the stones with a small knife. The blade was rusted and old now, but it still looked solid. Trying not to touch the old bones, Zak took the knife from the skeleton’s hand.
Examining the chipped stone where the prisoner had been working, Zak saw the outline of an access panel.
“It must control the door mechanism,” he said.
The poor dead captive had nearly chipped his way into the panel, but he must have grown too weak. Getting a good grip on the knife, Zak went to work.
“Hope you don’t mind if I finish the job,” he said to the skeleton. “It’s just that I don’t want to end up like you.”
Zak had nearly broken through to the wiring that controlled his cell door.
“Hey, what are you doing?” called the voice from across the hall.
“Trying to get out of here,” Zak replied between blows with the rusty knife. “Almost got it.”
“Hey!” said the other prisoner. “If you get out, will you free me, too?”
Zak paused. He knew about Jabba the Hutt’s reputation for cruelty. For all he knew, the other prisoner might be as innocent as he was. On the other hand, he might be a real criminal. Zak remembered that Jabba had already turned three wanted criminals in to the Imperials. Maybe this was yet another killer.
“I don’t know,” he said at last. “How do I know you’re not in here for a good reason?”
“I didn’t do anything!” the man yelled. “You gotta believe me!”
Clunk!
One last stroke of the knife opened a small hole in the wall, exposing a tangle of wires. Zak didn’t know which one powered the automatic door, so he just cut them all with a quick slash of the knife. There was a groan of metal rollers, and the locks that held the prison door in place suddenly relaxed. Zak grabbed hold of the bars and pulled. The door was heavy, but he managed to open it enough to squeeze through.
“You did it!” the other prisoner cheered. “Now, please, let me out!”
Zak stepped closer to the other cell door. The prisoner was human, with a large nose and long hair. His features were smooth. He looked more like a scholar than a criminal.
Zak hesitated. Suppose he made a mistake and freed a wanted criminal? Wouldn’t that make him an accomplice?
But if the man really was innocent, and Zak abandoned him, he’d be helping Jabba the Hutt with one of his many crimes.
Zak wavered, unsure of what to do. Either way, he might make a terrible mistake.
“If you’re innocent,” he said, “why did Jabba throw you in jail?”
“I told you I don’t know!” the man said. “Please help me!”
Zak decided. The man just didn’t seem like a criminal to him. Locating the door controls, Zak unlocked the cell. The door slid open, and the man stepped forward. He was very slender, with smooth hands. He cried out in relief as he slipped through the door.
“Thanks! That’s one I owe you!” the man said. “Now I’m getting out of here as fast as I can!” He bolted away into the darkness.
Zak was about to follow, but five pointy fingernails dug into his shoulder and a voice snarled in his ear, “What are you doing here?”