But his words seemed dead even in his own ears … and even as he spoke them, he could feel the jab of the guard’s spear in his back, and could feel himself drop off the end of the plank. In midair he twisted around, grabbing the end of the board and flipping high over the guards’ heads-He landed and turned back toward the Sail Barge, hand extended for the lightsaber Artoo had just sent arcing toward him.
It never reached him. Even as he stood there waiting for it, the weapon changed direction, curving back toward the other end of the Sail Barge. Frantically, Luke reached out for it with the Force; but to no avail. The lightsaber continued its flight—
And came to rest in the hand of a slender woman standing alone at the top of the barge.
Luke stared at her, a feeling of horror surging through him. In the mists, with the sun behind her, he could see no details of her face … but the lightsaber she now held aloft like a prize told him all he needed to know. She had the power of the Force … and had just condemned him and his friends to death.
And as the spears pushed him again onto the plank he heard, clearly through the dream mists, her mocking laughter …
“No!” Luke shouted; and as suddenly as it had appeared, the vision vanished. He was back in the cave on Dagobah, his forehead and tunic soaked with sweat, a frantic electronic beeping coming from the comlink in his hand.
He took a shuddering breath, squeezing his lightsaber hard to reassure himself that he did indeed still have it. “It’s-” He worked moisture into a dry throat and tried again. “It’s okay, Artoo,” he reassured the droid. “I’m all right. Uh …” He paused, fighting through the disorientation to try to remember what he was doing here. “Are you still picking up that electronic signal?”
Artoo beeped affirmatively. “Is it still ahead of me?” Another affirmative beep. “Okay,” Luke said. Shifting the lightsaber in his hand, he wiped more of the sweat from his forehead and started cautiously forward, trying to watch all directions at once.
But the cave had apparently done its worst. No more visions rose to challenge his way as he continued deeper in … and at last, Artoo signaled that he was there.
The device, once he’d finally pried it out of the mud and moss, was a distinct disappointment: a small, somewhat flattened cylinder a little longer than his hand, with five triangular, rust-encrusted keys on one side and some flowing alien script engraved on the other. “This is it?” Luke asked, not sure he liked the idea of having come all the way in here just for something so totally nondescript. “There’s nothing else?”
Artoo beeped affirmatively, and gave a whistle that could only be a question. “I don’t know what it is,” Luke told the droid. “Maybe you’ll recognize it. Hang on; I’m coming out.”
The return trip was unpleasant but also uneventful, and a short time later he emerged from under the tree roots with a sigh of relief into the relatively fresh air of the swamp.
It had grown dark while he’d been inside, he noted to his mild surprise; that twisted vision of the past must have lasted longer than it had seemed. Artoo had the X-wing’s landing lights on; the beams were visible as hazy cones in the air. Wading his way through the ground vegetation, Luke headed toward the X-wing.
Artoo was waiting for him, beeping quietly to himself. The beeping became a relieved whistle as Luke came into the light, the little droid rocking back and forth like a nervous child. “Relax, Artoo, I’m all right,” Luke assured him, squatting down and pulling the flattened cylinder out of his side pocket. “What do you think?”
The droid chirped thoughtfully, his dome swiveling around to examine the object from a couple of different directions. Then, abruptly, the chirping exploded into an excited electronic jabbering. “What?” Luke asked, trying to read the flurry of sounds and wondering wryly why Threepio was never around when you needed him. “Slow down, Artoo. I can’t-never mind,” he interrupted himself, getting to his feet and glancing around in the gathering darkness. “I don’t think there’s any point in hanging around here anymore, anyway.”
He looked back at the cave, now almost swallowed up by the deepening gloom, and shivered. No, there was no reason to stay … and at least one very good reason to leave. So much, he thought glumly, for finding any kind of enlightenment here. He should have known better. “Come on,” he told the droid. “Let’s get you back in your socket. You can tell me all about it on the way home.”
Artoo’s report on the cylinder was, it turned out, fairly short and decidedly negative. The little droid did not recognize the design, could not decipher its function from what his general-purpose scanners could pick up, and didn’t even know what language the script on the side was written in, let alone what it said. Luke was beginning to wonder what all the droid’s earlier excitement had been about … until the last sentence scrolled across his computer scope.