AN: Quick update, I know. Don't expect it to be like this for every chapter. Anyways, I'm having a lot of fun writing this story, and I hope you guys are having just as much fun reading it. As a warning to you die-hard, hardcore, obsessed fans with Star Wars, this is a little AU, so I'm sorry if you get mad over it. I needed to tweak a few things in order for it to fit in with my plot. Also, I used a huge part of the Star Wars script, and will be using it for quite some time. If you don't like it that way, review or PM me. I'll be more than glad to make some adjustments. So, yeah. Enjoy! (or not?)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything except for what's mine.
Hyperspace
Han Solo stared at the silent soldier for a few moments, working his jaw. Chewbacca grumbled and returned to the controls, unsatisfied. He didn't know how many times he heard Solo explain his whole life story, and he wasn't about to sit down and listen again. The Rookie leaned back and folded his arms across his chest.
"Fine," he grunted. "I'll go first. Considering the fact I don't know you, I'll only divulge some information."
The Rookie shrugged. Han Solo was beginning to think that was all he ever did.
"I was an officer in the Imperial Navy, way back when I gave a druk. My life before that is none of your business. To make a long story short, I did something that didn't go well with my superiors, and I left."
The wookie warbled.
"Okay, okay, they booted me out. I got a dishonorable discharge from the Imperial Starfleet, and I ended up partnering up with Chewbacca."
"What'd you do?" the Rookie grunted.
"I saved this guy's skin, that's what I did," Han said, smirking. "One of my officers tried to blast Chewie, and I stunned the pile of bantha fodder before he could do anything. Since then, I've been traveling, winning fortune and fame in every corner of the galaxy."
From what the ODST had seen so far, it must've been quite the opposite.
"Interesting."
Han Solo noticed that the man's voice was very harsh, as if grated against a washboard. He assumed it was from years of voluntary silence. The smuggler wondered what had caused his silence. As the mysterious soldier shifted in preparation, Solo figured he was about to find out.
"I was born on a planet called Luna, which you probably don't know of. I trained to be an elite soldier in my military, in order to fight a hostile alien race bent on the destruction of the human race. We won in the end, though I lost a lot of friends. After the war, my team and I were sent to search a potentially hostile area. Something happened, and the next thing I knew, I was on…"
"Coruscant," Solo provided.
"Yes…Coruscant."
Han Solo sighed loudly, skepticism heavy on his breath. He fixed the Rookie with a steely glare, trying to see any falsehood in the soldier's manner. Although he couldn't see his face, you could tell a lot from a person's body posture. However, try as he might, he couldn't find any. Solo gave a sidelong glance to Chewbacca. The wookie, having torn himself away from the controls to listen to the other man's brief explanation, shrugged. The smuggler prickled with annoyance; it seems everyone was into shrugging.
"That all?" Solo inquired, threading his fingers together. "Is there anything else you could care to tell us? After all, if it wasn't for us, you'd be a big pile of smoking meat in the middle of Fawlee's bar. At least give us a name."
"If I told more, you wouldn't believe me," the Rookie answered resolutely. "And I don't give my name lightly."
Han Solo scoffed, lifting his arms in an exasperated manner. He gave his friend a look that said Who does this guy think he is? Chewie shrugged, much to Solo's chagrin. He turned back to the foreign warrior.
"Fine," he supplied, tired of the whole thing. "You're a guy with secrets, I respect that."
The Rookie nodded.
"Now that that's settled with, on to the next thing. As far as I can tell, you know nothing about this whole place. I suggest you stay with us until you can get situated."
Chewbacca stiffened. The giant wookie leaned over and warbled in Solo's ear. Solo rolled his eyes and started to shake his head half-way through his partner's rant. He faced the other man.
"Sorry, he gets a little jealous, sometimes. It's settled, you're staying with us."
The Rookie nodded, while Chewbacca muttered under his breath and returned to the panel. Han Solo, feeling that all was settled with, also turned back, inputting the last coordinates into the log. He felt a tap on his shoulder.
"Where are we going?" the Rookie asked.
"Nowhere special, in particular," the scruffy smuggler said, his eyes never leaving the controls. "What it holds is what we're after. We're going to a pathetic little dirt ball called Tatooine."
/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\
Desert.
Hot, dry, desert.
When he had viewed it from the stolen ship they had acquired, it seemed like the whole planet was devoid of life. There was no end to the sand; it stretched from every corner of the globe, pole to pole. It was arid and dry, desiccated to the point of invoking a sense of isolation and despair. When the town had appeared in the horizon, he was more than relieved.
"Welcome to Mos Eisley," Solo said from the front seat. "You'll love it here."
The Rookie wasn't so sure about that.
They landed the battered old starship on an open field of sand (no surprise there). Dozens of other crafts were docked there, all of differing sizes and forms. The unique variation of this new galaxy was stunning to the UNSC soldier. From advanced cityscapes to parched desert towns, the Rookie wondered what other new area he would discover.
They got out of the ship, and the Rookie regretted leaving the conditioned air of the ship even more as he received the full brunt of the two Tatooine suns. He felt as if he was in an oven inside his layered armor, and he almost screamed and tossed his helmet off his tortured head. Not yet. Not yet. Han Solo and Chewbacca looked quite fine, though. The Rookie was surprised to see the wookie walk so calmly despite his dense layer of fur.
They passed through a shaded alley and into the streets of Mos Eisley. The streets weren't quite as busy as Coruscant, but it had an aura of an industrial oasis in the midst of the unforgiving desert. Speeders zoomed through the dirt between the rows of adobe establishments, ignoring the occasional jaywalker who seemed not to give a damn about walking in the way of speeding vehicles that weighed over a ton. Merchants crowed in the streets, while shady individuals languished in the shadows, waiting for the perfect prey to walk by. There was a significant amount of humans in the area compared to the busy sidewalks of Coruscant. These looked much more grizzled and gruff, like the years of toiling in the hot desert beat them like hot iron, toughened to the point of brittle disregard. A few aliens strode by, but they were of the same disposition as the humans, who were mostly male. A bipedal insectoid with spindly arms and legs croaked at the Rookie, waving its limbs wildly and brandishing an oaken staff. Chewbacca snarled at him, and the alien whimpered and stumbled away. They walked a little more, Han and his wookie friend bearing a no-nonsense posture that the Rookie soon adopted. It seemed that the two were well-known in the area; people whispered and pointed when they passed, but never in the open. My newfound friends have a feared reputation here, he mused.
It did not fail to notice, however, the white-armored figures standing at the edges of town, inspecting incoming speeders. A few more hung near stores and shops, toting guns and closely watching the block. They passed by two Imperial troopers without incident, and the weight that had settled in the Rookie's stomach was lifted.
They stopped at a large building near the center of the town. Pedestrians were milling around it, entering and exiting, usually with a friend and a drink. Lively music drifted from the open windows, a fun tune that seemed a relief from the grim atmosphere in the streets. Han Solo approached the door, which opened, revealing a dimly lit room filled with a light smoke. They entered.
It was crowded, that the Rookie could tell. Beings of every species sat at tables and around the counter, sipping drinks and talking animatedly. The bulk of alien life forms sitting around him made the ODST very nervous, and his finger twitched towards the pistol hanging at his hip. He had regretted leaving his SMG in the ship. The weapon would prove very useful when he found himself having to tear through disgusting alien filth. He pushed those thoughts away; the Covenant war was long over, and he himself had despised the xenophobia that had plagued the public after the conflict.
Han Solo gripped his shoulder and led him to a table by the corner. Chewbacca warbled to his friend, and the smuggler told the ODST that the wookie was going to get a drink. Solo sat down, while the Rookie stood off to the side, surveying his surroundings. A group of pink, dome-headed aliens played saxophone-like instruments on a raised platform, playing their hearts out. Well, considering that they even had hearts.
"Why don't you get a drink with Chewbacca," Solo asked, his eyes roving across the cantina. "You look parched."
The soldier nodded and turned around. He spotted the rows of backs sitting hunched over the chrome counter, and he made his way towards it. Just as he was about to plop down on an empty seat, someone barreled into him. He grunted, catching the person under the arms and setting him up. The unfortunate individual, who had apparently been thrown by a pig-faced brute, turned around.
He was only a boy, probably around his early twenties. Bright blue eyes stared at the Rookie in absolute fright, twinkling under a fringe of sandy blonde hair. He wore a baggy tunic, tan but lighter than the sand that covered the planet.
"I'm s-s-sorry, sir," he stammered as the soldier dusted him off. "I d-didn't mean to-"
There was an unearthly shriek, followed by a hum of plasma and the dreadful sound of body parts being torn off. The Rookie saw the alien who had pushed the boy fall to the ground, his right arm barely a steaming stump. The rest of it lay on the ground, bleeding dark blood profusely and still clutching a smoking blaster.
To his right, an elderly man with clean-cut white hair and a beard held aloft the strangest energy sword the Rookie had ever seen. It was emitting from a sturdy metal cylinder with no cross guards, gripped tightly in the wrinkled hands of the strange man. A short blue energy beam shone brightly in the darkness of the cantina. It was only a few feet in length, and it resembled a mere projection of light, but from what the Rookie could tell, it was hot enough to cut through cloth, flesh, and bone. There was little elegance to it, much unlike the energy swords of the proud Sangheili. It was simple, but somehow it gave off an aura of prestige and danger. The man surveyed the bar with challenging eyes, and then deactivated his saber.
The occupants of the cantina, having got their fill of sporadic violence for a time, turned back to whatever they were doing. Soon, the music started once more. It was as if it had never happened. The injured offender lay moaning on the ground, his friend attempting to help him up. Chewbacca, who had been standing behind the sword-wielding man the whole time, nodded to him and lead him to Han Solo, who had watched the affair through narrowed eyes. The nervous boy thanked the Rookie and scampered next to the older man, whispering with him.
"Han Solo," the smuggler said, pointing to his chest as the two strangers sat down at the table. Chewbacca sat down next to his partner, silent. The Rookie folded his arms and stood next to them. "I'm captain of the Millennium Falcon." What the hell was a Millennium Falcon and when had Solo been captain of it? "Chewie here tells me you're looking for a passage into the Alderaan system."
"He is indeed," the old man answered. His voice was smooth, clipped, and precise, like a practiced orator or a negotiator. "If it's a fast ship."
"Fast ship?" Solo replied incredulously, leaning over and fixing the man with a disbelieving glare. "You've never heard of the Millennium Falcon?"
"Should I have?"
"It's the ship that made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs," Solo informed him plainly, a proud smirk on his face.
When the two were silent, the smuggler captain grinned and leaned in more.
"I've outrun Imperial starships," he said. "Not the local bulk cruisers, mind you, I'm talking about the big Corellian ships now." Solo glanced at both of them for a second. "She's fast enough for you, old man. What's the cargo?"
"Only passengers," the elderly man replied. "Myself, the boy, two droids, and no questions asked."
Solo grinned and chuckled quietly. "What is it, some kind of local trouble?"
The man fixated his gaze on the cocky smuggler. "Let's just say we'd like to avoid any Imperial entanglements."
"Well, that's the real trick, isn't it?" Han's eyes glimmered in prospect. "And it's going to cost you something extra."
The white-haired man waited patiently for the price.
"Ten thousand, all in advance." Solo offered.
"Ten thousand?" the boy repeated, shocked. His voice was even more high-pitched than when the Rookie had stumbled into him. "We could almost buy our own ship for that!"
"But who's going to fly it, kid?" Solo scoffed, his voice condescending. "You?"
"You bet I could," the boy answered hotly. "I'm not such a bad pilot myself!" he looked at his older friend and rose from his seat. "We don't have to sit here and listen to this-"
"We can pay you two thousand now," the man said to Solo. The kid sighed and sat back down. "Plus fifteen when we reach Alderaan."
The Rookie was surprised. The man was offering seventeen thousand whatever-this-galaxy-used-as-currency? Either this guy was filthy rich, or he was just a good scammer. Han Solo was visibly surprised. "Seventeen?"
The man nodded slowly.
"Okay, you guys got yourselves a ship," Solo said, his grin widening. We'll leave as soon as we're ready. Docked in Bay 94."
"94," the old man recited, obviously pleased. The boy was still staring at him incredulously.
Solo's demeanor shifted from delight to danger as he spotted something behind the two stranger's backs. "It looks like someone's beginning to take an interest in your…handiwork."
The Rookie had noticed the two Imperial troopers long before they had, their polished white armor and orange shoulder pauldrons marking them in the crowd of dark packed bodies. The ugly bartender pointed at the entourage from the counter, whispering to the soldiers quietly. The old man and the boy quickly rose, thanked Solo, and vanished into the crowded cantina. When the soldiers came around, bearing long black blasters with pronounced muzzles, they merely stared at the Rookie, the smuggler, and the wookie, then moved on.
"Seventeen thousand!" Solo exclaimed when they left. "Those guys must really be desperate. This could really save my neck! Come on, let's get that ship."
"Hold on," the Rookie said, blocking the man and the wookie in their path. "You two aren't going anywhere until you tell me exactly what's going on here."
Chewbacca growled ominously, but Solo nodded and sat back down, pushing his friend to his seat. "I haven't told you everything, which isn't really bad considering you're so tight-lipped yourself."
The Rookie leaned back in his chair and listened.
"I lost my original ship, the Falcon, to a slimeball called Jabba the Hutt. Big crime boss, biggest in this sector. I managed to steal away from this dustball in a damaged fighter, barely making it out alive. I flew to Coruscant in order to get Fawlee's ship, one of the fastest out there. That's how I met you. Apparently, he didn't put it to good use, so it's a rickety old tin can compared to its original beauty. I came here to get my ship back and maybe settle things with Jabba so I won't have to keep on looking over my shoulder wherever I go. That's it. Is that alright?"
The Rookie nodded and rose alongside Chewbacca and Han.
Suddenly, someone pushed against his shoulder. He turned, seeing a green-skinned reptilian smirk at him, its bulbous dark eyes staring at him with contempt. It wore a green shirt that resembled a turtleneck under a tan vest. Dark pants covered scrawny legs, and the Rookie noticed the small blaster holstered at his waist. He stepped aside as the alien cut in Han's path, the blaster out in a flash and pressing against the smuggler's chest.
"Oota Goota, Solo?" the alien intoned, his accent lilting his English, or Basic, in a slightly silly rhythm.
"Yes, Greedo, I was just going to see your boss," he said as the alien pushed him down to a seat. Han met the Rookie's eyes and motioned for him to back up. The soldier complied. "Tell Jabba that I got his money."
The alien said something in a foreign language, the blaster still pointed threateningly at the man. Han listened impatiently, reclining against the wall, his legs on the table. He was acting pretty relaxed when a potential killer was sitting in front of him, a gun in his hand. "Yeah but this time, I got the money."
The alien spat something harsh in his language, and Solo rolled his eyes, turning his attention to a crack in the wall behind him. The ODST noticed his other hand creeping down to the blaster at his hip. The green beast prattled on some more, never noticing the smuggler ready his weapon.
"Yeah, but even I get boarded sometimes," Solo replied. "You think I had a choice?"
The alien's tone began to get more aggravated, and the Rookie could tell Han wasn't pleased with his words. "Over my dead body."
The alien replied, and Han gave a slight smile and leaned forward. "Yeah, I bet you have!"
Time slowed down, and the Rookie tracked the two lasers' movements as both opponents fired at nearly the same time. There was a huge puff of smoke and sparks, and the Rookie shielded his visor with his arm. When the smoke cleared, the alien dropped down to the table, his whole body steaming as if taken from an oven. The occupants of the cantina who had been watching turned away once more, like when the man had dismembered the other alien. Han looked around, rising to his feet and holstering his blaster. He walked over to the counter and flicked a card of paper over to the less-than-happy bartender. He would have a lot of cleaning to do.
"Sorry about the mess."
/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\
Jabba the Hutt resembled an oversized slug. He was taller than Solo, and his massive girth beat even Chewbacca in weight and size. A vaguely human face was set on top of the slab of revolting skin and fat, stretched wider than any. Bulbous eyes flickered under a set of drooping eyelids, and a disgusting tongue licked his thin lips like a worm. His short tail trailed slime as he pushed himself towards the huge freighter, apparently the Millennium Falcon. It was disc-shaped, with a few tubular projections jutting from its rough hide. It looked like it had gone through hundreds of repairs over the years. Oddly, the cockpit was on the right side of the ship, inside a blocky compartment projecting from the starboard. There was little regularity in its shape, and it didn't look like top-of-the-line starship. The Rookie had seen better looking trucks back home, but he trusted Han's words. Well, most of the time. Jabba gurgled something foreign in a deep baritone, spreading his arms wide at the ship. Dozens of his men were gathered around it, blaster rifles in hand. Han, Chewbacca, and the Rookie came into the docking bay. They had gotten their stuff from Fawlee's ship a while back, abandoning the rust bucket to some unfortunate sap looking for a free ride out of town.
"Right here, Jabba," Solo yelled.
The slug and his posse turned, and Jabba exclaimed something.
"Didn't think I was going to run, did you?" Solo replied, grinning wolfishly.
He approached the Hutt, while the wookie and the Rookie stayed behind, watching the other men cautiously. They were doing the same, which was apparent. They had the aura of hardened criminals, dangerous to the core. That wasn't any deterrance to the ODST, however. He had faced worse and had come out on top. He and Chewbacca stood firm, the intimidation Jabba's guards were giving off splashing against them like feeble waves.
"I knew you were going to come for me sooner or later…" Solo smirked, walking over to the repulsive Hutt. The slug lifted his fat arms, drawling out a few sentences.
"Look Jabba, next time you want to talk to me, come see me yourself," he snarled, a stern finger pointed blatantly at Jabba then beck to himself. He jutted his chin at the guards. "Don't send one of these twerps."
Han and Jabba started to walk down the length of the frigate, locked in conversation. The Rookie and Chewbacca waited patiently as they talked, their eyes never leaving the stone-still guards. Finally, they seemed to come to an agreement. Han Solo gripped the Hutt's grubby hand firmly, albeit a little reluctantly. They shook, and Han Solo stepped out of the crime boss' presence.
"Jabba," the smuggler said with a mocking smile. "You're a wonderful human being."
The obese alien scoffed and gestured for his guards to come with him. They walked out of the hangar, or in Jabba's case, slid, disappearing from view. Chewbacca roared.
"Jabba's a slimeball," Solo answered, walking up the ramp that lead to the Millennium Falcon's interior. "But he's a smart one. Seventeen thousand credits is no small amount, and he was looking forward more to the money than to blasting my body to smithereens."
He threw his arms to the sky. "We got her back, Chewie!" he whooped. They high-fived.
Soon, the man, the boy, and two strange droids came inside the docking bay. The first one was a luminous gold, although a little dented and beaten from the years of travel. It moved in robotic, jerky movements, a curious tilt to its domed head as it looked around the hangar. The second was a thick, wide canister with two sliders attached to its side and probably used as arms. A blue stripe ran the length of its domed skull, and one red dot blinked on its face. Quirky beeps and whistles emitted from its speakers as it slid. The boy stopped as he assessed the Falcon. His blue eyes widened.
"What a piece of junk!" he cried, his displeasure evident.
"She'll make .5 past lightspeed," Solo remarked, wiping his hands on a rag he had been using to wipe the ship's abused exterior. "She may not look like much, but she's got it where it counts, kid. I made a lot of special modifications myself. But," he said, a hospitable smile forming on his dark features. "We're a little rushed, so if you'll just get onboard, we'll get out of here."
/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\
The inside of the Falcon was like the interior of a condominium owned by two rowdy frat boys, the Rookie mused in his head as he observed the custom frigate. Dirty clothes and metal parts lay strewn on the floor where the wookie and the smuggler dropped them when they no longer had use for it. The ramp led to a tubular corridor winding through the ship and opening into several rooms. There was a ladder running up to a small room where the turret controls were located. A swivel chair was hoisted to allow the shooter greater maneuverability.
Near the center of the ship was a spacious "game" room. A black and white checkered and circular game board was situated in front of a wide cushioned seat. Before the ODST could check more things out, the sounds of blasters were heard from the outside. The Rookie flipped the safety off his SMG and raced out of the room, through the white corridor, and down the ramp. He bumped into a nervous Han Solo on the way.
"Keep them occupied!" he yelled, sprinting for the cockpit.
Sure. He could do that.
The Rookie spied the white-armored soldiers firing at the large ship. He loosed a fragmentation grenade into their midst. The resulting explosion decimated many of them, but more kept coming. He fired his SMG.
The bullets ripped into the lead trooper, felling him in spurts of chipped armor, blood, bones, and guts. The troopers, dismayed at the deaths of their comrades by an unfamiliar slugthrower, paused.
That was all Chewbacca and Han Solo needed.
The Rookie lost his balance and gripped onto the wall as the ramp slowly closed, and the Falcon hovered off the ground. He stumbled and leaned against the bulkhead as the engines roared, and the Millennium Falcon took off into the atmosphere.
When the Rookie made it into the cockpit, they were already zooming off into the black expanse of space. The ODST had never been in a space-capable ship this large and strange before; his insides felt queasy and he had the urge to lie down on a bed. He steadied himself, taking a deep breath. Chewbacca snorted a warning to Solo, who was focusing on the controls.
"Looks like an Imperial cruiser," Han said, his thick brows furrowing. "Our passengers must be hotter than I thought." He stood. "Try to hold them off, angle the deflector shield while I make the calculations for the jump to lightspeed."
Chewbacca nodded. He pushed a lever on the panel and flipped a few switches above his head. Solo returned to the controls, sweat pouring down his forehead. "Stay sharp, there are two more coming in, they're going to try to cut us off."
"Why don't you try to outrun them?" the farm boy cut in, appearing in the cramped cockpit. His blue eyes were alight despite the desperate situation. "I thought you said this thing was fast!"
"Watch your mouth, kid, or you're going to find yourself floating home!" Solo barked. "We'll be safe enough once we make the jump to hyperspace."
The Rookie assumed that this "hyperspace" was this galaxy's equivalent to Slipspace. The name was not too outlandish, but the concept of a different form of FTL travel both intrigued and unnerved the hardened ODST.
"Besides, I know a few maneuvers, we'll lose 'em." Han murmured.
There was an unsettling rumble as two huge, green bars of superheated plasma lanced by the speeding frigate. The very fact that the vibration of a couple of energy beams caused three men and a full-grown wookie to falter and lose their balance scared the Rookie. He hadn't even seen the "two cruisers" yet, but he had a feeling they would be huge.
"This is where the fun begins," Han Solo said breathlessly, a silly grin stamped onto his face.
"How long before you make the jump to lightspeed?" the old man asked, clearly worried.
"Just a few moments before we get the coordinates from the NAV computer." Solo said, leaning back to check the data on the console.
"Are you kidding? They're right there, gaining!" the young man cried, pointing at the radar.
"Traveling through hyperspace ain't like dusting crops, boy!" Solo snapped, glaring at the rude kid. "Without precise calculations, we'd fly right through a star, or bounce too close to a supernova. That'd end your trip real quick, wouldn't it?"
Those facts unnerved the Slipspace-adapted soldier even more. Slipstream travel didn't have to face those staggering obstacles, and he found himself missing home even more. He gripped the metal chair, his calloused fingers turning white.
"What's that flashing?" the boy yelped, pointing at a red dot blinking on and on. Han slapped his arm, and the kid grimaced, pulling his hand back.
"We're losing the deflector shields," he explained calmly but grimly. "Go strap yourselves in, I'm going to make the jump to lightspeed!"
The Rookie quickly buckled himself in, preparing for the foreign sense of vertigo and nausea that had accompanied a jump into hyperspace. He closed his eyes, whispered a prayer, and they jumped.
/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\
The Rookie watched as the kid and the old man conversed quietly, the man in deep informative tones and the kid in light curious ones. He was seated next to Chewbacca, who was lying hunched over on a table. The droids watched in interest as the two humans talked. The man activated a strange metal orb, which promptly floated into the air. The blocky droid whistled excitedly. The boy watched open-mouthed as it hovered silently.
"Activate your lightsaber," the older man said gently. The boy took a silver cylinder from his waist and pressed the button. An emerald blade of energy was emitted, unlike the older man's blue. "Do not rely on your physical senses alone, Luke. Use the Force, and let it govern your actions."
The boy nodded absently, his eyes tracking the ball's every movement. When it struck, the red beam hit the boy's, Luke's, belly. He crouched over, groaning and rubbing his stomach. The old man sighed, his eyes closing.
"You have much to learn, my boy." he said.
"Maybe we can notch down the blaster a little, Ben," Luke gasped. "Then I can have a more productive learning experience, I think."
Ben sighed once more. Luke stood up, his hands on the back of his hips, stretching and taking big gulps of air. His bright eyes roved around the room, finally settling on the Rookie.
"Hi!" he said excitedly. He walked over, amicably extending an open hand. "I'm Luke Skywalker. I've seen you hanging around Solo and the wookie, but I never got a chance to talk with you personally."
The Rookie shook the hand firmly, noticing the young man wince at his grip. He loosened it a bit, not knowing his handshake had been so strong. "A pleasure. You don't need to know my name yet."
Luke arched a golden eyebrow. "Anyways, this is C-3P0," he said, pointing at the golden droid, who had started a game with Chewbacca.
"How do you do?" the droid said politely in what sounded like a British accent. "I am C-3P0, human protocol-"
"Yeah, yeah," Luke cut in. He gestured to the small blue-white droid in the corner. "That's R2-D2, an old astromech. He's nice, an a lot less talkative than golden boy over there."
R2-D2 whistled in greeting. The Rookie smiled beneath his helmet and gently rubbed his palm on the droid's metal skull. R2-D2 beeped and chirped happily.
The Rookie felt a pair of deep blue eyes watching him, and he met the gaze of Ben. The old man was staring at him curiously, a strange expression on his aged face. His lips moved wordlessly as he looked at the black-armored ODST.
"Where are you from, stranger?" Ben asked quietly.
"Again, you don't need to know the details. I'm from a place…far, far, away. Let's put it like that."
The wrinkled old man's eyebrows skyrocketed, and he leaned back, his unwavering gaze never leaving the Rookie. Luke finally interjected, brandishing his saber wildly as if it wasn't a superheated blade of pure energy. Ben frowned at the boy's actions.
"Do not act like a child, Luke. You are carrying a weapon of extreme honor and prestige. Treat it that way."
"Mr. Kenobi," Skywalker said. "Were the Jedi as great as the stories said about them, well, disregarding the Empire's usual kriff?"
"First of all, Luke, there shall be no language like that coming from your throat as long as I am alive, so watch your tongue. Second, yes, they were. They were the greatest order in existence, peacekeepers since the olden days, when there was no Empire, or even Republic. There seemed to be no end to our achievements, and there were little who could stand in our way. The Order's fall was unexpected and brutal; not many Jedi made it through." Ben looked up at the ceiling, his mellow blue eyes glazing over, as if remembering old days of past glory and joy. "Oh, Luke, the Jedi Order, at the height of their power, was a steady bastion of hope and light. I was one of them, and so was your father, as you know. You will be one too," Ben eyed the boy's too-wide stance. It resembled crouching down for a dump. "With the proper training. Once again, Shii-Cho Basic Stance."
The weary kid groaned and assumed the position. The Rookie found the little history lesson very interesting. He would try to learn more about these…Jedi…later. When things weren't to fucking confusing.
Luke sighed and readied himself. He was about to block another shot when Ben Kenobi clutched at his heart, a quiet but agonized sound issuing through clenched lips. He stumbled to the table, sitting down and breathing hard. His face was deathly white, and his thin brows were furrowed in pain and concentration.
"Are you alright?" Luke asked, walking over to his tortured mentor. "What's wrong?"
"I felt a great disturbance in the Force," Ben said, his voice troubled and quavering. "It was as if millions of voices cried out in terror, and suddenly there was silence." He looked away. "I feel something terrible has happened."
The words of foreboding struck a chord in the Rookie's heart. He remembered seeing dozens of Covenant cruisers blast a planet to molten glass, with thousands of civilians still abandoned on the surface. Countless times he had witnessed those horrifying moments, and he was glad that he wasn't going to experience them again. He wondered if they did what the old man had just described. He suddenly felt a chill run down his spine. The Rookie leaned forward.
"What do you think happened?" he asked in a low voice.
Ben glanced at him, his eyes clearing a fraction. He gave no answer, just another unfathomable gaze at the patient Rookie. The ODST waited, but soon gave up when the man's eyes moistened and took a far-away haze. He shrugged and resumed wiping his SMG with an oily rag.
"Get back to your exercises," he muttered to Luke, his head bowed.
Luke rubbed his mentor's shoulder and walked back, an anxious expression on his face. There were the sounds of boots on metal as Solo swaggered in. "Well, you can forget your troubles about those Imperial slugs," he announced proudly. "I told you I can outrun them."
Luke activated his lightsaber and promptly started to block laser shots, his concentration solely on the floating ball. Chewbacca and the golden droid were raptly focused on a holographic game featuring alien monsters, the small droid was whistling crazily, and Ben was still deep in sadness. Solo stared at them incredulously. "Don't everybody thank me at once." he said drily.
Chewbacca warbled in frustration as he figured out where to move. Han Solo rolled his eyes. "We should be at Alderaan at around 0200 hours."
Once again, everyone ignored him. The Rookie nodded once, and Solo gave him an appreciative glance.
C-3P0 stepped aside for R2-D2 to take over for him. The droid whistled excitedly as it make its move. "Now, be careful, R2!" C-3P0 warned sternly. The smaller droid pressed its port tube against the panel. One of its monsters, a red-black brute, plodded over and promptly smashed Chewbacca's piece to the ground. The wookie groaned and roared at the two droids. C-3P0 swerved to the side, looking at the enraged alien.
"You made a fair move," he said plainly. Lights flashed on his eyes and "mouth" as he spoke. "Screaming about it won't help you."
"You know it's not wise to upset a wookie," Solo told the protocol droid. "Especially one of his age and size."
"But sir," the golden humanoid robot complained. "Nobody worries about upsetting a droid!"
"'Cause a droid don't pull people's arms out of their sockets when they lose…" Han Solo supplied, a fierce grin on his face. C-3P0 started, staring at the huge wookie. "Wookies have been known to do that."
Chewbacca folded his hands behind his head, a pleased expression on his canine face.
"I see your point," C-3P0 said calmly. He turned to the small astromech droid. "I suggest a new strategy, R2. Let the wookie win."
Chewbacca warbled again, delighted.
The Rookie watched the exchange curiously, but ever silent. The band that had probably been thrust together was getting along quite well, it seems.
Ben had recovered from his depression a little while back, and now he was watching Luke's exercises with a critical eye.
"Remember, a Jedi can feel the Force flowing through him."
"You mean it can control your actions?" Luke asked breathlessly, focused on the orb.
"Partially," Ben answered. "But it also obeys your commands."
The red beam struck Luke's thigh, and he yelped, jumping back in pain. Han's laughter rang derisively in the room. "Hokey religions and ancient weapons are not match for a good blaster at your side."
Luke deactivated his lightsaber and gave Solo a pointed look. "You don't believe in the Force do you?"
Han sighed exasperatedly. "Kid, I've flown from one side of this galaxy to the other, I've seen a lot of strange stuff, but I've never seen anything to make me believe that there's an all-powerful force controlling everything." He smirked at Luke. "There's no mystical energy field that controls my destiny." The Rookie could see Ben smile nigh imperceptibly at the captain's smug comments. "It's all a lot of simple tricks and nonsense."
"I suggest you try it again, Luke," Ben said, rising from the table. He took a sturdy white helmet with an opaque visor from a shelf and handed it to the baffled Luke. "This time, let go your conscious self…" he placed it on the boy's head. "And act on instinct."
Luke chuckled. "With the blast shield down," he said, touching the blank visor, "I can barely see! How am I supposed to fight?"
"Your eyes can deceive you," Ben remarked. "Don't trust them."
They started again, and once more the shot hit Luke, this time on the left side of his chest. He hissed through the pain. Ben lifted his arms encouragingly. "Stretch out with your feelings."
"Don't focus on yourself," the Rookie cut in, much to everyone's surprise. "Don't be preoccupied on how you move, or how you act. Relax your body and your mind."
Luke nodded slowly. His shoulders dropped, and his body seemed to unwind like a rubber band that was stretched tight suddenly going limp. The orb fired three times, but Luke seemed to act before they even were shot. He blocked all three cleanly, impressing the Rookie. Ben smiled.
"See?" he said as Luke deactivated his lightsaber. "You can do it."
"I call it luck," Solo interjected, reclining on his swivel chair, unimpressed.
"In my experience," Kenobi replied, turning to the confident smuggler. "There's no such thing as luck."
"Look, 'good' against a remote is one thing," Han countered with a cocky grin, "'Good' against the living, that's something else."
There was a rhythmic beeping from the panel, and all jokes were set aside as Han Solo rose. "Looks like we're coming up on Alderaan."
He stood and walked back to the cockpit, Chewbacca right behind him. Luke approached his mentor, a satisfied smile on his boyish face. "You know, I did feel something," he said, excited. "I could almost see the remote!"
"That's good!" Kenobi said, gripping Luke's shoulder. "You've taken your first step into the larger world."
Ben walked back to his corner. Probably to think about the mysteries of life, the Rookie mused thoughtfully. He looked up as the flushed-face boy walked up to him.
"Thanks for your last piece of advice back there," Luke said gratefully. "Ben was being kind of vague, like he usually is, but your words really helped me. Thanks…er…soldier…guy."
He turned to leave.
"You're welcome," the Rookie grunted, putting his SMG down and starting to work on his silenced mag. Luke's eyes brightened in appreciation. "Oh, and I'm not 'the soldier guy'."
Luke blushed, and he scratched the back of his head. "My bad. You see, I don't know your name-"
"James." The Rookie said. He extended his hand. "Call me James."
AN: Hope you guys liked it. Thanks to all the reviewers who reviewed on the first chapter! Again, concerning the script, if you felt displeased at the fact that this went almost exactly like the beginning of A New Hope, my apologies. Review or PM me if you problems. Concerning the Rookie, his real name is estimated to be James, considering it was used in the game itself (by Buck). If you hate this story, don't read it (I hate flames). On a happier note, I will not decide to abandon this story, so expect updates (although not at a speedy rate). School's back, and all that crap. ANYWAYS, R&R PLEASE!
