I was watching A New Hope today and it started me wondering on what would happen if Han didn't come back to help and Luke failed to destroy the Death Star. I glanced through the archives and it didn't look like anyone else had tried this, so here is my version of Star Wars.
Disclaimer: Lucas owns it. I wasn't even alive when the original trilogy came out, so there is no way it could be mine.
Focus, Luke, he told himself. The young man tried to isolate himself from the chaos coming over his headset. He reached within for that illusive tendril of the Force which he had just begun to develop.
"I'm hit! I can't stay with you," the garbled voice drew him from his meditative state.
"Get clear, Wedge. You can't do any more good back there!" he responded.
His new friend pulled away from the trench with an apology, which Luke barely heard. He reached for the Force again, felt it brush tantalizingly against his mind, but could not grasp it.
"Hurry, Luke, they're coming in much faster this time. I can't hold them!" Biggs' voice broke his concentration, reminding the pilot of the trio of TIE fighters which dogged him and his companion.
He glanced back, noting that they were indeed coming closer.
"Artoo, try and increase the power," he urged his astromech.
The droid beeped an affirmative. Luke pushed away thoughts of the Force for the moment, afraid he wouldn't be able to utilize it during the stress of battle. He activated his targeting device, glancing into it to get a fix on his objective.
"Hurry up, Luke!" Biggs said.
The young pilot breathed out, pushing his fighter to a faster speed. He hoped he would be able to target the exhaust port at this speed.
"Wait!" the scream caught him off guard and his head whipped around in time to catch his friend's fighter burst into flames.
The Force chose that moment to return to him, overwhelming him as the impact of Biggs' final scream was echoed in his mind. Tears came to his blue eyes, but he blinked them away. There would be time to mourn his friend later. Now, he had to destroy the Death Star. His jaw set with growing anger.
The Empire would pay for every Rebel life that had been sacrificed in this war, for every innocent who had died on Alderaan.
He focused his concentration back on his targeting device, anger lending a sharper edge to his skills. He lined up the targeting hairs, releasing another breath. Suddenly, a voice again broke his concentration, though this time the voice echoed through his mind instead of coming through his headset.
Use the Force, Luke.
He wanted to trust the voice of his mentor, but this was different from his game with the remote. Lives were riding on his every move--the lives of his friends. He couldn't risk them because a dead man was telling him to trust an invisible energy source.
Let go, Luke.
He closed his eyes, debating within himself. Trust Ben, or rely on what he knew would work? He looked at the targeting computer.
Luke, trust me.
It was those words that made him decide. Ben had never let him down. He would trust his mentor He reached over and switched off his computer, drawing the concerned inquiries of his superiors.
"I'm all right," he responded.
He again tried to shut himself off as he reached for the Force. Laser fire and a screech from Artoo shattered his fledgling hold on it. He turned his head to look back at the little droid, who was smoking from the hit.
"I've lost Artoo!" he said, fear entering his voice.
The trio of TIE fighters was right behind him. He could feel the laser edge of their intent narrowing in on his fighter. They were going to get him before he could reach the exhaust port.
"Ben," he mumbled.
Now, more than ever, he needed his mentor's help. But now, Ben remained silent. Fear openly invading his mind, he reached frantically for the Force. It remained elusive.
There was no time now to reactivate his targeting device, for he was too close to the port. He narrowed his eyes, shooting off two torpedoes. As soon as they cleared his fighter, he knew he had failed.
"I missed!" he announced over the com system.
He felt a triumphant surge from one of the pilots behind him as a laser bolt clipped the wing of his fighter, sending it spinning. The enemy fighters came after him, but something else had caught the young pilot's attention.
The Death Star had been activated!
He steadied his X-wing just in time to see a brilliant green laser bolt streak toward Yavin IV. The moon exploded into shards as a wave of terror sliced through him. The faces of each of his friends flashed through his mind, as the dying screams of their souls shivered through the Force.
"No!" he screamed into his headset, as though his words could rewind time so that the tragedy had never occurred.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
"The Force is strong in this one," Vader murmured to himself.
No other pilot had ever managed to do such a good job at avoiding his skills, but this Rebel's luck would soon run out. Beneath his helmet, the Dark Lord of the Sith smirked. His lasers struck the X-wing once, twice, and the pilot went spinning into space. There went the Rebels' vain hope of destroying the Death Star.
Long live the Empire, he thought as the Rebel base exploded in a flash of light.
Vader started after the X-wing pilot, who was struggling to bring his ship under control. Suddenly, a psychic wave of grief blasted through the strong defenses he had established around his mind. Grief saturated him--the agony of the only surviving Rebel. Vader frowned slightly. He had been right about this one being strong in the Force. In fact, judging by the way this untrained pilot had ripped through his defenses, he had to have a midichlorian count close to Vader's own, if not higher.
"I want this one alive. Tractor beam his fighter and bring him in," he ordered.
"Yes, Lord Vader," the on-duty Imperial officer said without hesitation.
It was an unusual request, but all Imperials knew the penalty of arousing Darth Vader's wrath.
He circled his TIE behind the X-wing as it was brought into a docking bay, noting that the pilot made no attempt to fight the beam. A brief probe of his mental state revealed that the Rebel was going into shock. No doubt this was the first time he had encountered death on a large scale and his mental defenses were not strong enough to recover from the psychic blow.
Vader landed his TIE and quickly lipped out of it, striding over to the Rebel fighter. A squad of stormtroopers entered the bay, but he waved them off. He could deal with this pilot by himself. An untrained Rebel was no match for a Sith lord. He hit the outside release and the cockpit rose with agonizing slowness. Vader lifted the pilot out using the Force, laying him on the hard floor with a carefulness which was unusual in the Sith. The pilot was shorter than he expected, with a lanky frame which showed that he had not yet grown to his full stature. He was young then, no more than a teenager. It explained why Vader's Jedi hunters hadn't killed him. He would have been only a baby in the aftermath of the Clone Wars, when the Jedi were being exterminated. Vader knelt beside him and pulled off his helmet. The sight which met his eyes caused him to freeze.
This Rebel pilot was almost a carbon copy of how he had looked when he was a child, before the darker side of the galaxy had hardened him. His tousled blond hair, darkened with sweat, hung in his face. His eyes fluttered open, revealing blue orbs that were eerily like his own. The Rebel stared blankly up at him for a moment, eyes not really focusing on the Sith lord.
"Ben I...trusted you," he whispered.
Vader's eyes narrowed. What was this boy talking about? The pilot went limp, eyes rolling back into his head before his lids slid closed. Vader stood, turning to the stormtroopers.
"Take him to the med bay," he ordered.
The trooper saluted and Vader watched them carry the pilot off. He glanced back at the X-wing, at last noticing the fried astromech behind the cockpit. Again, he was startled, for the droid looked like one he had known long ago. That was impossible, but he still found himself ordering a technician to repair the droid. He turned and left the docking bay behind him, cape swirling behind him. He needed to report to his master.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Han Solo leaned back in his pilot's chair, staring blankly at the blurred starscape in front of him. Beside him, Chewbacca huffed a question. The human turned his head to his first mate, forcing a slight smile.
"I bet we blew that place just in time, eh, Chewie?" he said.
The Wookie did not appear convinced, instead asking another question. Han sighed, returning his attention to the controls in front of him.
"Yeah, I'm sure Leia and the kid are doing just fine," he said.
The control panel in front of them sparked and they slammed back into real space. Han let out a startled curse, jumping up from his chair.
"Blasted motivator blew out again. Let's head for the closest planet and make some repairs, Chewie," he said.
The Wookie grunted and turned his attention to the controls as Han went back to tinker with the hyperspace motivator. It took several hours for them to dock at the nearest planet. Despite the urgent need to get back to Tatooine and pay off Jabba, Han decided to wait to repair the ship. Trailed by his first mate, he entered the nearest bar. The two settled down in their seats and Han ordered drinks for the both of them. He took a sip of the alcoholic beverage, idly listening to the conversations around them.
"-blew it up. So much for the Rebellion, I guess," a human said.
His Twilek companion responded, "They were fools to think they could defy the Empire."
Han's heart lurched into overdrive, but he forced nonchalance as he turned to the two next to him.
"What happened?" he asked.
The human appeared to consider telling him to buzz off, but a glance at the Wookie looming behind him changed his mind.
"You know that Death Star they used to destroy Alderaan? Well, they used it on the Rebel base. Got all of them in one blow. Poor fools didn't stand a chance," he said.
But they did! Han's mind cried.
He had listened in on their plans, seen the blueprint of the station for himself. The kid--Luke, had seemed confident that they would be able to defeat the Death Star.
But he is just a kid. Of course he would be overconfident. I should have stayed to help them, he thought.
He slammed a coin down on the bar to pay for their drinks, before rising to stalk from the bar. Chewbacca hurried after him, growling a question. When Han didn't answer, he lifted the smaller human from the ground.
"We should have been there!" Han choked, though no sign of his emotions showed on his face.
The Wookie set him down, responding in his own language.
Han again ignored him, stalking back toward the Falcon. So maybe they couldn't have done anything to help the Rebels. However, despite his protestations to the contrary, he did care. Maybe not about the Rebellion itself, but Luke and Leia had managed to squirm their way into his hardened heart. Now they were both dead. It wasn't his fault, but Han still blamed himself.
So, there is the first chapter. I'm not entirely satisfied with it, but I don't have any more time to tweak it. Please let me know what you thought of it and if you would like it continued!