The Jedi Academy Trilogy_ Jedi Search Part 10

The crowd cheered. Some of the losers in the lower levels began throwing drink containers against the guard mesh in front of them. Blue sparks flickered from the electrified wires. Tymmo hunched forward in his seat, keeping one hand in his pocket. Lando wondered if he carried some kind of weapon.

Tymmo looked around, blinking his eyes in alarm as if he suspected he was being watched. Lando winced, knowing that his fine clothes and rich cape made him appear painfully out of place in the lower levels.

Tymmo noticed Lando and the two droids, tensed, then forced himself to watch the end of the race.

Blob 11 approached the final blobstacle, hauling pseudopods over the rungs of a ladder as it dripped down. It seemed burned to exhaustion, but still it pushed on as if demons were chasing it. Its bright amethyst tracings had faded to mere speckles. Reaching the top of the ladder, the blob descended into an array of wide funnels that had exit holes of varying sizes, many of which were sealed shut. The amethyst blob thrust extensions of itself into various funnels, poking around until it found one with a large enough hole in the bottom.

Behind, the nearest other blob began negotiating the bed of nails in front of the whirling propeller. Choosing an acceptable funnel, Blob 11 dumped itself into the cone and pushed. A pasty stream ribboned out the narrow end, rolling and piling on the ground as the blob re-collected itself. The thin strand of blob went on and on, coming out in spurts near the end until finally the tail plopped out of the funnel. Blob 11's entire body shimmered as it trembled with exhaustion. It charged toward the finishing circle and looked as if it intended to keep going.

The crowd continued to cheer, but the race was clearly over. Lando watched Tymmo. The other man adjusted something in his pocket.

Blob 11 came to a sudden halt in the finishing circle. Blob wranglers in coveralls rushed onto the track with wide shovels and a levitating barrow to scoop up the exhausted thing and return it to the blob pens for rehydration and a long rest. The audience then began to root for which blobs would place and show.

Tymmo slid out of his seat and flicked a quick glance from side to side, but Lando had already stepped behind a support pillar. Tymmo jostled the spectators still watching the rest of the race, making his way toward one of the cashiering stations where other winners had already queued up. Most of the winners jumped up and down, chattering with shared excitement; even the more reserved ones wore broad grins. Tymmo, though, showed only a metallic, unreadable expression. He seemed very nervous.

Lando and the two droids eased themselves into the line, b.u.t.ting through the crowd. Tymmo kept glancing back, but he did not see them again. Over the loudspeakers the announcer listed the order of winners in the blob race.

Lando pulled the cable jacks to the sheet-crystal Jedi detectors out of his sleeves and plugged them into the power pack on Artoo's body.

He slid the flat paddles into the palms of his hands, ready for a chance when he could scan Tymmo to confirm whether or not he had the bluish aura of a possible trainee for Luke's academy.

Threepio seemed very excited. "Why don't we just go up to him and tell him the good news, General Calrissian?"

"Because something's fishy here," he said, "and I want to make sure before we get ourselves in too deep."

"Fishy?" Threepio asked, then looked around as if to locate any aquatic spectators at the blob races.

"His turn is next at the terminal. When he keys in his betting chit, it'll take a minute to process and cash in his winnings. He's effectively trapped until the transaction is done, unless he wants to throw away a lot of credits."

Of course, Lando remembered, cheating was punishable by death on Umgul, and Tymmo might be happy enough just to get away with his life.

What had he been hiding in his pocket?

As Tymmo stepped up to the terminal and inserted his chit, the announcer broke through the background noise to remind everyone once again of the next week's races in honor of the visiting d.u.c.h.ess from Dargul. Tymmo flinched visibly, but keyed in his ID code and inserted his account card to collect his winnings.

"Come on," Lando said, stepping out of line and moving toward the cashiering station. He flicked the power switch on the scanning pack; its warm-up hum vanished in the background noise.

Tymmo looked intently at the display on the cashiering station, punching in his access code and transferring his winnings as quickly as he could. Lando stepped up beside him and swept either side of the man with the detector paddles before Tymmo realized what was happening.

Tymmo looked up, saw Lando holding something that might have been a weapon, saw the two droids that might have been armed mechanical bodyguards, and panicked just as the terminal ejected his account card and called for the next customer. Tymmo s.n.a.t.c.hed his card and fled, scattering a pack of Ugnaughts as he ran into the crowded stands.

"Hey, Tymmo, stop!" yelled Lando. The man was swallowed up in the surge of spectators exiting the stands after the race.

"Sir, aren't we going to follow him?" Threepio asked.

Other spectators had turned to stare. The next winner, grinning and oblivious, stepped up to the cashiering station.

"No." Lando shook his head. "We've got a reading for now. Let's check it out."

In a shadowed corner, not caring if anyone saw what they were doing since n.o.body would understand it anyway, Lando watched the power pack of the Imperial detector reconstruct a holographic aura mapping of Tymmo. As Lando had unfortunately expected, Tymmo's reading showed a perfectly normal outline: no bluish haze of Jedi potential, nothing at all out of the ordinary. "He's a fraud."

Threepio seemed disappointed. "Can you be certain, sir? I should point out that many people were standing around, and they could have disturbed the readings. You also scanned him very quickly, and none too closely. Remember, too, that the detector itself is extremely old and may not be completely reliable."

Lando gave the protocol droid a skeptical frown, but Threepio's arguments did have some merit. He should take the trouble to be sure.

Besides, Lando was enjoying himself on Umgul so far. "All right, we'll check him out a little further."

Relieved that the New Republic would pick up the tab, Lando relaxed in his s.p.a.cious hotel accommodations. From the dispenser he ordered a cold punch-like drink popular on Umgul and went to the balcony to watch thick evening mists curl along the streets. He sipped the drink, unable to remove his perplexed frown or smooth his creased forehead.

"Could I get you anything else, sir, or shall I power down for the time being?" Threepio asked.

"Please do!" he said, realizing how nice it would be to keep the protocol droid quiet for a while. "But leave the circuit open in case Artoo tries to get back in touch."

"Certainly, sir."

Posing as a maintenance droid, Artoo had gone poking around the blob stables to see if he could uncover anything out of the ordinary. The little astromech droid had tuned his communication frequency to Lando's comlink so he could send a message.

Now with Threepio quiet Lando could finally think. He went over to the room's courtesy terminal and punched in a request for information.

The screen automatically displayed a complete schedule for the next three weeks of blob racing, but Lando selected another menu.

The Umgullian Racing Commission was fanatical about being forthcoming with all information relating to the races and the blobs themselves. A sample of protoplasm was taken from each blob before and after any race, then subjected to rigorous a.n.a.lysis, the results of which were available to the public.

With help from the information a.s.sistant built into the terminal, Lando was able to collate the before-and-after tests for all of Tymmo's high-stakes winners. He didn't know what he was looking for, but he suspected some drug used to urge the blobs to greater speed, some incentive that would affect only the winners.

"Run a correlation," Lando said. "Is there anything unusual about these particular winners? Something found in these blobs, but not in the others?"

Tymmo bet only once in a while, and if his manipulation was subtle enough, Lando could imagine that the Umgullian racing commission might have missed a tiny modification. But Lando knew that one variable tied these particular winners together apart from the other blobs. Since hundreds of people bet and won on each race, the commission would have no reason to look at only those particular races where Tymmo had cashed in.

"One minor anomaly found in all cases," the information a.s.sistant said.

"What is it?"

"Faint traces of carbon, silicon, and copper in the post-race chemical tests of each winner in this subset."

"This wasn't noticed before?" Lando asked.

"Dismissed as irrelevant. Probable explanation: minor environmental contaminants from the blobstacles themselves."

"Hmmm, and these same traces show up on every one of the winners?"

"Yes."

"Do they show up on any of the other blob tests, winners or losers, in any race?"

"Checking." After a pause the terminal answered, "No, sir."

Lando looked at the test results. The amounts of contaminant were absolutely trivial, nothing that should have had any effect. "Speculation on what might have caused this?"

"None," the terminal answered.

"Thanks a lot," Lando said.

"You're welcome."

Threepio sat bolt upright, startled out of his recharging state.

"General Calrissian! Artoo has just contacted me." Threepio b.u.mped the comlink with his golden finger, and bleeping noises burst through the speaker. "Mr. Tymmo has appeared at the blob corrals, disguised as a blob wrangler. Artoo has verified his identification. What could he be doing there?"

"Let's go," Lando said. "I didn't expect him to try again so soon, but now we've got him, whatever he's doing."

Lando grabbed his cape and slung it over his shoulders before he swept out of the room. Threepio raised his hands in alarm but shuffled off as fast as he could, his motivators whirring.

The two ran through the darkened, misty streets of Umgul City.

Around them blockish limestone dwellings rose high, stacked upon each other like cracker boxes, lacquered to a high gloss with moisture sealants. Streetlights hung at the street intersections, shedding a pearly halo into the mist. Workers climbed on scaffolds, tearing down old banners that advertised the visit of one dignitary and putting up new ones welcoming the d.u.c.h.ess Mistal to Umgul City.

Lando sprinted up the cobblestoned streets with Threepio scurrying stiffly behind. Steep thoroughfares climbed the bluffs. Ahead and adjacent to the sinkhole arena, they could see a large lighted structure where the blobs were kept and monitored.

Lando ducked through a service entrance to the blob corrals, and Threepio followed. Strange smells, damp and musty, filled the air.

Cleanup droids chugged through the halls, while others checked temperature controls for the blob pens. The lights had been dimmed for the evening, encouraging the blobs to rest.

"Threepio, do you know where we're going?"

"I believe I can locate Artoo, sir," Threepio said, and turned in slow circles before he pointed the way.

Down another level they reached a shadowy chamber cut into the limestone. The lights inside had been set to their lowest illumination, and moisture generators kept the room damp and clammy. "Artoo is in here, General Calrissian."

"Okay, be quiet. Let's see what's going on."

"Do you really think Mr. Tymmo could be cheating, sir? Even with the threat of capital punishment?"

Lando frowned at him. "No, I'm sure he has a perfectly legitimate reason to be wearing a blob wrangler's uniform, slipping into the blob corral late at night, and skulking around in the darkness."

"What a relief, sir. I'm glad to hear he may yet be a Jedi candidate."

"Shut up, Threepio!"

They crept through the entrance into a room lined with blob pens.

Banks of about twenty small enclosures blocked his line of sight in the shadowy room. Within each pen a gelatinous blob burbled and vibrated as it rested.

From the far side of the room came a rattling noise: a blob pen being eased open. Lando crept silently down the rows of blob enclosures, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness. In the shadows of the far row of pens, Lando spotted a human form. He recognized Tymmo's build, his furtive movements, his lanky dark hair. Tymmo hunched over a cage, reaching inside, doing something to the blob in front of him.

Lando leaned close to Threepio and breathed words in the faintest of whispers, knowing he would not be overheard in the general stirring of the blobs. "Enhance your optical sensors so you can make out what he's doing, and record everything for later playback. We may need proof if we're going to get this guy."

Before the droid could answer, Lando clamped his hand over Threepio's mouth to keep him silent.

Threepio nodded and turned to stare at the man in the shadows.

With a whirring sound Artoo-Detoo puttered down the walkway between the pens. Tymmo looked up, startled, but Artoo carried a cleaning attachment and scrubbed the floor under the pens. He whirred right by Tymmo, ignoring the man just as a cleaning droid would do. Lando nodded in admiration for the little astromech.

Tymmo turned back to his work, shaken by Artoo's appearance and apparently wanting to be out of there as soon as possible.

"Sir!" Threepio cried. "He just implanted a small object in the protoplasm of that blob!"

Tymmo whirled and grabbed at one of the pockets of his jumpsuit.

Lando didn't need greater illumination to recognize a blaster being drawn.

"Thanks a lot, Threepio!" he said as he tackled the droid. An instant later a blaster bolt sparked off the wall near where they had been standing a moment before. "Come on!"

He scrambled to his feet and ran over to where Tymmo had been hiding, ducking to take advantage of the cover the blob pens offered.

Another blaster shot ricocheted through the dimness, missing them by a wide margin.

"Artoo!" Threepio wailed. "Sound the alarms! Call the guards! Alert the corral owner! Anybody!"

Tymmo shot at them again, and Threepio gasped as sparks erupted close to his head.

"Oh, dear!"

Inside the corral the blobs awakened and stirred, rearing up against the bars of their pens.

He heard Tymmo crash into the corner of a cage. They reached the pen where Tymmo had been meddling. Lando kept his head low. "Threepio, see if you can tell what he planted in that blob."

"Do you really think that's wise right at the moment, sir?"

"Do it!" Lando had his own blaster drawn, scanning the shadows for Tymmo's form. Ratcheting alarms rang out. "Good work, Artoo," Lando mumbled.

Seeing a hunched, moving form, Lando risked a shot on stun but missed. An indignant series of electronic noises told him he had almost deactivated Artoo. "Sorry about that."

By firing his blaster Lando had given away his position. Tymmo shot back, but his energy bolt spanged off the wall. Lando fired again, and as the stun beam expanded outward, he saw several blobs in its path curl up and condense sideways.

"A shoot-out at the blob corral," Lando said to himself. "Just the way I wanted to spend my vacation."

Threepio stood next to the pen trying to determine exactly what Tymmo had been doing. The blob itself, riled by the disturbance, reared up against the bars, leaning into the cage door. Dim light glinted off Threepio's polished body, offering a clear target; but this time when Tymmo fired, his blaster bolt incinerated the lock on the pen. With the pressing weight of the blob, the door flung open, and the entire gelatinous ma.s.s dumped onto Threepio's head, oozing down his body. The droid's m.u.f.fled cries of panic came through the wet protoplasm.

Seeing Tymmo's form move through the shadows, Lando sprinted after him. The other man made for the archway exit as fast as he could move in the murkiness. "Tymmo! Hold it right there!"

Tymmo turned to glance in Lando's direction, then put on a burst of reckless speed. At that moment Artoo scuttled out of the shadows, placing himself directly in the running man's path. Tymmo crashed into the droid, somersaulted into the air, and landed on his back.

Lando pounced, grabbing Tymmo's blaster arm and yanking it behind his back until the weapon dropped free. "Good job, Artoo."

Tymmo thrashed and struggled as the alarms continued to sound. "Get away from me! I won't let you take me back to her!"

"Help me! Help!" Threepio cried. He waved his arms, frantically trying to wipe blob material from his outer sh.e.l.l.