Padmé unsoftens her eyes. "So what are we going to do with you?"
"I want to be trusted. I want to help. I don't—" and here, he frowns—"I don't want to force anything. I may be labeled as a Sith. But I'm not a real one. I'll do anything to prove it. Truly."
Vader glances at Padmé. She stares back. "You felt it." He nods. She sighs.
"If we bring you to the Admiral—talk it over with him—then you, Luke, may have a chance. About what to do; if you can prove yourself. And the meeting will be private." She directs her next words at Vader. "Have him meet you in your quarters. It's private, and easy to talk there."
A nod. "Very well. When should we meet?"
"After the battle. And the losses are counted. Right now, just get into your quarters. Stash the boy." A slight smirk. "And take that suit off. It's hot in here."
The dark-skinned man—Lando—looks up. "But she's just a girl! What do you want with her?"
The rest of the smugglers look up, all surrounded around the datapad. Leia glares. "That is unnecessary information."
Five slow nods, and three look down. The blonde headed, and the brown headed man hesitate before complying.
"So when do we get our Force user?"
Sometimes, she likes to believe that she'll got out of here one day. And really see the galaxy. But her Jedi protector (who insists on calling him father, or dad, but she never does) smashes the belief.
("It's safe here on Tattoine. The bad people won't find you."
"What if we going looking for the good people. Then I'll really be safe."
Qui-Gon Jinn always shakes his head. "No. You won't. Trust me.")
Greti will sneak out one day. Real soon. She knows how to fly, and has enough money stored. She's eleven years old. And lives on Tattoine. She knows how to take care of herself.