Luke finishes his bland meal and leaves the cafeteria. He does not pause to pay his check, for the beetle-proprietors demanded payment in advance. They use the excuse that belt pirates often leave without paying, but Luke recognizes simple avarice when he sees it. At the end of a barren flexi-corridor, he enters the airlock and dons his vacsuit. His X-wing lies hidden in a deep crater 600 meters away.
Before exiting the airlock, the Rebel pilot takes a moment to study the asteroid upon which the hospice sits. The hospice itself is a collection of white plasfoam bubbles connected by long, twisting flexi-corridors. Each bubble, and each flexi-corridor as well, is anchored to an outcropping of bedrock protruding through the dusty, crater-riddled surface. This is because the tiny planetoid’s gravitational attraction is so weak that a child can throw a rock into space. Asteroid hoppers and prospecting scows rest in a disarrayed radius around the complex, tethered to hospice buildings, handy rocks, or each other.
Formally known as 400,324 Henryson, the planetoid is little more than a kilometer in length, and half that in width and thickness. The designation number preceding the name indicates Henryson was the 400324th planetoid in the Sil’Lume Belt catalogued as a sentient being’s property. The name refers to the original owner. Artoo has reported that catalogue numbers run as high as 895,256, but nobody knows how many asteroids have never been claimed.
Henryson rotates so quickly that when he looks away from the ground, Luke grows dizzy. The stars actually fly across the horizon like meteors. To make matters worse, the sun never sets on Henryson. It’s grape-sized disc flashes across the sky as if shot from an ancient rifle. As the most prominent reference point in the heavens, it serves as a constant reminder that Luke stands on nothing more than a giant merry-go-round.
When he is certain no unwanted observers lurk outside, Luke opens the airlock and trudges through the knee-deep dust to his hidden X-wing. Artoo opens the fighter’s canopy and transmits an urgent message over Luke’s comlink as he slides down the crater. Although he cannot easily understand the beep and whistle language of the R2 unit, Luke needs no translation to realize something has alarmed the little Droid.
He quickly climbs into the cockpit and activates a translator. Artoo displays his message on a vidscreen.
Luke smiles. “I know, Artoo. An Imperial general and six stormtroopers arrested somebody while I was eating.”
Artoo whistles a query.
“No, I don’t know why. And I didn’t think it wise to ask.”
Artoo remains quiet for a moment, then issues a short series of beeps.
“Help him?” Luke asks. “There were six stormtroopers – what do you thin I am, a magician?”
The Droid does not answer.
“Besides, we have our mission to consider,” Luke continues testily, “Let’s go find a new base.” He activates the X-wing’s repulsor drives and they lift into space.