XI

The taller of the two Wookiees spoke, dark brown braids flapping around his shoulders as he shook his leonine head to emphasize angry words. "Who are you, sneaking through our forest like a panther?" he asked in Shriiwook.

Han could not tell who the three newcomers were associated with, but hesitating to answer would not be a good idea whatever the circumstances. He judged that it would be wisest to divulge a portion of the truth. One hand remained on his holstered blaster. "My friends and I, our ships are damaged. We had to land, and now, I was just going to make some repairs. We're not looking for any trouble."

The dark-furred Wookiee's stare descended from Chewbacca to Han, as if he had not expected the human to speak. He seemed to nod.

The second Wookiee wore gauntlets and carried a bowcaster like the first. The Trandoshan was outfitted like a living tank, wearing thick armor of a blue material that Han did not recognize and carrying a long rifle, with a variety of vibroshivs attached to its armored legs. Han did not know of any criminal organizations on Kashyyyk—and Imperials did not outfit aliens like this. It was possible that they were rebels of one sort or another, but how to question them without giving away information about Han's own loyalties? Hell, he though, our faces are probably on every Imperial wanted list in the galaxy. The fact that these guys aren't shooting is practically an expression of loyalty.

"What side are you on?" the more talkative Wookiee impatiently growled.

Then the Trandoshan poked the Wookiee's arm with one long claw and gestured at something behind Han; the Wookiees broke their stares away from the human and looked over his head. Just after they did, they shuffled backwards and raised their weapons.

Han began to say 'wait', and then he saw what they did. From behind HK-47 glided a person shrouded by a black cloak. Anna's cloak, but this person didn't move like her... Unnaturally deep shadows obscured his face; he raised one hand and spoke in a voice Han barely recognized. "You are allies. You serve the same cause. The one that I serve."

He raised his head. The hood and shadows fell away. With his revealed left hand, fingers spread and never touching the fabric, he moved aside a fold of his black cloak to show a lightsaber against his leg.

It was Luke, Han saw, with a new, nuanced voice that erased any trace of the farm boy's naiveté and replaced it with untouchable authority.

"You're of the Rebellion?" The dark Wookiee huffed.

"Yes," Han replied.

"We heard you had a Jedi," said the second Wookiee. "We have a small outpost here, a tiny resistance against the…disgusting business on our world. But we will help you."

Han relaxed his hands. "Thank you, very much. And thanks, kid."

Luke smiled back.

The Kashyyyk Rebels stared with increasing intensity and interest as the rest of Han's party emerged from the Ebon Hawk and the Millennium Falcon. Luke handed Anna the cloak and Gwen the lightsaber, and smiled when he told of the rescue, as if the darkness had been an act. He had sensed the Wookiees' intent, and after Leia ran out of the Falcon and gave Han a swift, heartfelt kiss, she corroborated the new allegiance.

"The code word is 'panther'," she said regally to the dark Wookiee, who nodded enthusiastically; Han relayed his reply and apologized to Leia for not remembering and picking up on the word. Her relieved smile, and the memory of the kiss, did wonders to assure him of his innocence in her eyes.

"I am Rolworr," said the dark-furred Wookiee. "My companions are Hyvokka, and Lisk." He looked pointedly at Chewbacca and Zaalbar. "She has abandoned the ways of the slavers' gods to help us against the Empire."

Chewbacca barked his approval warily.

In the midst of the forest a short walk away, what looked like a hut made of rough wood was revealed to be the entrance to an underground bunker. "Few Imperial scouts fly over this area," Rolworr explained to Han as they made their way down a wooden-sided tunnel. "Your ships should be safe."

'We could use help with repair and refueling."

"That need can be met. But you should not stay long; we have food and room enough only for those who live and work here."

"Ah, that's fine. Then we'll try not to stay long."

Leia touched Han's elbow. "What are you saying?"

He relayed Rolworr's words, then quietly asked, "Where are we traveling to next?"

"I don't know. Dagobah, if Luke and Master Bolwyn continue on that path."

Wooden doors opened at Rolworr's touch. The facility seemed more administrative than militaristic; poured ferrocrete walls clashed with wooden slats as with rock on Yavin IV, but otherwise, relatively little technology was in evidence. The bunker had no room for a starship hanger. After a time, a door that Rolworr opened revealed the other occupants of the base; Wookiees and a female Mon Calamarian sitting around a card table. They, Rolworr, and the Trandoshan, Lisk, conferred, then the Mon Cal turned her bright violet eyes to Han and his companions. He noticed that the people he had brought nearly doubled the population of the base.

"We'll help you with your ships," she said. "It's so good to see someone else who's going to fight their way out of the Empire's hold."

How literal that hold is here, Han thought. We've never seen or heard of these people before, and they're risking their freedom and lives against odds so overwhelming, some Wookiees are resigned to having slavery as part of their culture. Imperial cruelty and technology overpower their physical might, until the rebellious ones have to go into hiding. He felt kinship to these desperate Wookiees unlike that he felt for the Alliance High Command. An elderly Wookiee woman had been one of his only friends in his teenage years, and because of his longtime friendship with Chewbacca, he felt almost as if his family, if he had known them, would have lived by Wookiee ways. It was with a sort of relief that he went with Leia, Shifan the Mon Cal, and a few native mechanics to tend to the Falcon just as Carth, Master Sacul, and Bao-Dur tended to the Hawk with their attendant Rebels.

Luke did not share his friend's elation. When they arrived at the ships, the young man touched Han on the arm and said that he was going to look around the surrounding forest.

Han nodded. "Take care of yourself, kid."

"I'm a lot better at than then I used to be." Luke gave a tight smile and walked away.

Only later did Han think that, judging by how enthusiastic Luke usually was about machines, something might be wrong.

Luke trudged through the forest, unable to appreciate the beauty all around him. Once, trees, like oceans or starships, had been wonders to him; how magnificent had the forests of Yavin IV appeared! Their brethren on Kashyyyk were even more lush and gravity-defying, but Luke ignored them. He focused on the rhythm of his strides through the undergrowth, or on the beating of his heart as he occasionally broke into a run so that it pounded like a drum in his ears. Small things, details, drew him now. The trees stretched up to the stars, where Vader waited.

Although it had been the plan all along, he was not eager to go to Dagobah now. The certainty and uncertainty of his parentage were a rock and a hard place. His defensive response was apathy, a willingness to exist in sadness and do nothing to change it. Nor did he like this unfamiliar sensation.

The sunlight, broken into rays but undimmed by the canopy of low, sand-fed wroshyrs, slanted down to either side of the wondering Jedi. The nearby sea cast the smell of minerals into the clear, comfortably warm air.

If this were a story, Luke thought, I'd have the princess by my side. He had been proud of himself after training on Dagobah, had felt strong and adult, while Han had—

It was the work of a moment and a breath to smooth such thoughts away. Yoda had preached nonattachment, and although Luke would not abandon his friends to death, he was beginning to see how romantic relationships between a Force-sensitive and someone who was not, or even between Force users, were complicated things, perhaps more so than relationships not involving extra-sensory perception. He was content without mock-fighting over Leia. After his initial awe, she was beginning to feel more like a teacher, or a sister, than a commanding officer or object of desire.

Master Bolwyn and Carth Onasi get along perfectly.

Ah yes, that other problem of mine, where I'm nervous about learning from these amazing Jedi because they're supposed to be—are!-- extinct.

Master Yoda and Ben would have had me sacrifice Han and Leia to save myself from…Vader. And all that he implies.

They lied to me. What really happened? Ben said Vader killed his apprentice.

"Obi-Wan never told you what happened to your father."

They knew one another. And so…maybe my teachers felt ashamed, because they never stopped him, and now I'm the only one who can.

The answer to all these questions is…Jedi too are human.

What if I send Master Bolwyn and the others to fight Vader for me?

The Force seemed to raise a hand at that half-serious suggestion, and dismiss it. Then, in a rush, Luke sensed someone unfamiliar nearby him. He looked around and jumped straight up. He landed in a crouch on the thick branch of a tree and pressed himself back against the bark. The Force, the dappled shadows, and his olive-green uniform concealed him; he watched and listened as a shrub, below him and a few meters away, rustled. A rough voice emerged from that direction, crackling with static.

"Stall at least Skywalker, Solo, and the other Jedi in the base for a few more days. I'll be ready for them this time."

Luke heard the comm click. The bushes moved again, closer to the tree where he perched. He sensed that the one below was aware that he or she was being watched. He jumped down and ran for the Falcon, silencing his steps as he had been taught.

When people travel together long enough, Gwen thought, they become comfortable with each other on a level that doesn't require speech. It certainly helps when they're all Jedi, but that's not essential at all. Something happens to the flow of conversations—you can tell that everyone's relaxed, and expressing an intrinsic respect behind their words and actions.

These thoughts were inspired by Anna, Mical, Mission, and Princess Leia, who sat resting in the Ebon Hawk's common room. Gwen too had just come from working on the Falcon's damaged exterior and overseeing the refueling of the Hawk—the fuel of the future would apparently work for it, taking into account some modifications Bao-Dur was more than capable of making.

Funny too, thought Gwen, how so many of Anna's allies during her fight with the Sith had turned out to be Force-sensitive, and newly so. Gwen would not mind an apprentice, one whom she could lead to the light side as she had lead Malak—and he lead me, she reminded herself—to the dark. If only Carth…perhaps Luke Skywalker would come to her, although she thought it better not to ask him directly. He had a revelation to contend with, and she did not know him well enough to craft an appropriate stage for that contest. She could tell that the Force of this age was recovering from a period of darkness, and was now humming like a lit lightsaber with potential. As a Jedi Master she could catch glimpses of the future, but they manifested not as specific visions but as a general feel for the timeline before her. This era was gearing up for a clash no less great than her own versus Malak had been.

She smiled as she quietly entered the common room, not wanting to disturb the conversation going on inside.

Anna was saying, "So I just wanted to say I'm sorry. For not being a reliable mentor."

Mical returned Gwen's smile with a small one of his own as he saw her enter; then he continued speaking to the former exile. "I believe that you still are, ah, recovering. Darth Traya manipulated your mind, tugged on your heartstrings, long before she thought to challenge you with the lightsaber."

Anna nodded.

"But that's using Traya as an excuse, sorta," said Mission thoughtfully. "I don't mean to sound as nasty as I just did, but, bad things happen." She forestalled Mical's reply by raising one blue hand. "I know that having your mind messed with by the Sith and going through the rough childhood I had are two very different thing, but being optimistic helps. So does being what you are. I'm not living in the shadow of my brother anymore." After glancing at Gwen, she added, "Gwen isn't Darth Revan anymore. People look up to you now and, love you, and you're going to rebuild the Jedi Order when you get back to our time. Act like that, and even if this sounds silly, you'll start to feel like you are that."

'Thanks," said Anna. "I'll remember that. It's just…I spoke to Darth Vader, before we left the upper levels of Kashyyyk. He looked right through me—he was looking for Luke. He dismissed me, and said I was weak."

"Bluster," Princess Leia said suddenly and rather angrily. "The Empire cultivates fear. Often it can back up its claims. But you, Anna, you're a Jedi Master. One of two in the galaxy. Two active ones, anyway. You have power so many people could never have."

"Thank you," Anna said again. Gwen sensed surprise from both people involved as Anna placed her hand lightly on Mical's.

Gwen walked to the center of the room. "Am I interrupting?"

"No," Anna replied quickly.

Gwen smiled. "I would like to ask about this Darth Vader," she said. She looked at Leia.

The princess said, "He controls the military might of the Empire…and is the emperor's public face. Or his fist. He has the power of the Force just as you do. And he did something that Luke will not speak of."

Gwen sensed the young Jedi approach and enter the ship, as if summoned by his name. She asked Leia, "Do you know Vader's origins?"

"No. He helped the emperor kill all the Jedi, during the creation of the Empire, but it was before I was born."

"Hello." Luke appeared at the hall from the ramp.

"How are you?" Leia asked.

"Good." He passed his hand over his brow. "Can I get a drink of water? I've got something important to tell you."

"I've got it," Mission said, and before anyone else replied she dashed off to the store room.

"You were talking about the birth of the Empire? How, ah, how old are you, Leia?"

"Twenty-two."

"Heh, me too. That's funny. I always thought of you as older."

"I don't often get the chance to act my age," Leia said. "When is your birthday?"

"The second mist month by Tatooine time…" He smiled sheepishly as he calculated mentally and on his fingers. "That's fifth month, nineteenth day by Imperial Center time.Thanks," He accepted a plastic cup Mission handed him; she padded back to her seat.

"Really, ha, that's my birthday," replied Leia.

"Wow." He laughed, as did Gwen, but he quieted quickly, and looked with suddenly wide blue eyes at Leia. "I overheard someone talking in the forest outside the base," he said. Nervously Leia tapped her fingernails on the couch to either side of her legs. "Someone's selling us out."

"Talking to Vader?"

"No. It was a distorted voice that came through the comm, though."

"Boba Fett." Leia murmured. "It was just one person taking the message, on this side? Do you think all of these Rebels are in on it?"

"It sounded like just one person, but I didn't see him. I told Han; he suspects the Trandoshan."

"Of course he does," she replied without barb. "But we can't know that. You have no idea who it was?"
He shook his head. "I could identify the presence again if I felt it."

Eagerly, Mission said, "He can keep an eye out for that. Er, a thought. And I'll use my stealth belt to wonder through the base. I can speak Shriiwook, Huttese, any number of things they might use. I'll listen and look for anything suspicious."

Luke sat down beside Leia, his long fingers laced together. "Stealth belt? It blocks optic rays? I thought something that could do that had to be made big enough to mount on a capital ship."

"It didn't in my time."

"All right, we've got the advantage then. I don't see anything wrong with that plan."

"Be careful," said Leia.

Anna added, "You ought to begin tomorrow. It's getting late."

"Don't get caught." Luke added. The weariness had dropped from his voice. Gwen was relieved by his next words, as they mirrored her own misgivings. Mission scoffed, but he continued; "If our allies aren't betraying us, we don't want to make it look like we're betraying them."

Slightly later in the day, Mical's overwhelming happiness was partially doused by the fact that in the last place he looked for some solitude, he found HK-47. The droid was standing in the Rebels' base, in a supply closet which was barely large enough to admit him. He was running his hands along the pitted stock of some sort of assault rifle when the historian saw him from the hallway and peered in.

"Are you supposed to be in there?"

"Answer: Yes. I am widely regarded as an expert on weapons, and was permitted by the owners of this closet to examine these. Reluctant admission: Their capability often outshines that from our own time."

"Are they very different from what we use?"

"Simple Analysis: These blasters are similar in appearance to those of our time, but are more efficient and powerful."

"Ah, might I get the names of some of these weapons, or perhaps images?"

"Hesitant reply: Yes. However, while no cognitive protocol I possess explicitly warns against time travel paradoxes, I feel rather uneasy about accessing files in our time which were created in the future."

Throughout this speech, the droid's words had affected the disturbingly musing quality they sometimes did, and Mical saw unbidden mental images of HK-47 stealing a gun from the Rebellion to use in the past. The droid would take such an advantage without hesitating if it had been someone besides himself who spoke of time travel paradoxes, Mical thought, and it was odd for him to voice such a warning. Mical thought guiltily of the datapad sitting on his own bunk, which contained pages of notes about this future world. He had recorded them himself, in the spare time that was so abundant in space.

Revan mentioned that she knew something about time travel. I ought to ask her—and ask Bao-Dur if he has given the crystalline artifact further study.

"Thank you," he said as goodbye to HK-47, and moved on down the hall. Occasionally he smiled. Thoughts of the crystal had made him wonder when they would be able to consult Skywalker's Master and return home; he missed his family, even though, because of his career, he usually only saw them through holotransmissions from Coruscant. However, his sense of adventure was now completely satisfied. During their last conversation, the Exile's emotions had all been laid bare for him. Their relationship needed mending after his fall. But he was sure that it would be mended, sure that he would have another memory to cherish, to turn over like a rune-marked stone beneath the magnifying glass of his mind. Just before their most recent conversation, where she broke down in front of him, Mission, and Princess Leia and began the process of rebuilding her confidence, she had bluntly confessed that Bao-Dur wasn't interested in being his rival for her affections. Mical was unsure whether he was going to speak to the Zabrak about it at all. Perhaps it would be enough that sparring sessions would no longer be so awkward.

Mical had his adventure, had his studies, and would have his fair love.

Life felt good.

Even if Luke's reports of treachery hidden around them were true.