XIV

Luke Skywalker had felt hate before. Of course, it was difficult to tell where the pale, petty displeasures of each day ended and an emotional hue bright enough to be named 'hate' began, but he was almost certain of the difference. He had always passively hated the injustice and discrimination with which the Empire ruled, and had learned today how easily that hate turned into open defiance.

But all other emotions faded in the glare of the hate he felt for Darth Vader. As soon as the ship was shooting through hyperspace on its own power he wrenched his hands from the controls and stalked across the common room, too tempted to turn the ship around to keep his seat. Vader had taken Luke's father away (his mother, too, if what Ben had said about her pining away could be believed), and now he had taken the Jedi too, along with any chance of Luke's learning more about his past.

He sat in the common room glaring at Han, not seeing at all that it was the farmer, not Darth Vader, standing in front of him, until Han shied away and Leia replaced him. Hands on her knees, she looked at him with the same sharp composure that she had displayed in the detention cell. She simply stared, asking without talking what he wanted her to do, reminding him silently that she had lost her planet.

The force of that blow she had taken had been spread out, difficult as it was to comprehend, and Luke's wound was as concentrated as the point of a knife. Tomorrow he would begin to heal, and she would begin to bruise.

At the same time the two of them began to say "There was nothing you could have done," and trailed off.

They sat in silence for a moment, Luke unable to feel Leia's slender fingers perched on the armor plate over his shoulder.

"Your base is in these ruins?" Han said with a slight twang of disdain as the Rogue's Fate skimmed over the mint-green forest and stone edifices of Yavin IV. The unexpectedly allied crew had gathered in the cockpit to view the approach.

"They've been made completely modern inside," Leia replied quietly. A moment ago, her voice had been crisp and commanding as she spoke to the Rebel watchman on the comm. "The Imperials never suspected such a primitive world."

The forest slid by beneath the forward-jutting pilot's seat like a sea, its islands the tan towers and step pyramids that a forgotten civilization had left behind. "It's a beautiful place," Luke said.

"It's a dangerous place too," Leia replied. "Animals, crystal storms, tidal floods."

"You don't need to go somewhere far off to find nice things to look at," Han said. "Tatooine has got beauty too."

Luke did not react to his angry tone, although one of Susaa's ears twitched back toward his neck. Luke glanced aside, knowing that he and Susaa needed to talk in private later, about how involved with the Rebellion they and their ship were going to be—and that a secret military base was not a likely place for two small-time smugglers to go unnoticed.

Blue-vested Rebel soldiers waving neon glowrods guided the Fate into the hanger. The ship had a space of its own beneath the heavy lip of the ziggurat that the Rebels had chosen for their center of operations. Further back sat round-nosed Y-Wings and X-Wings with spindly laser cannons. At first glance it was an armada, but on a second, Luke saw that, compared to the vast Imperial fleet, if this was the Rebels' entire force they would be sorely pressed in battle.

A contingent including woven-robed Rebel officers and armed guards met Leia at the ship's ramp. A white-bearded man embraced her. "Princess Leia. So good to see you safe."

After a moment of folding herself into the man's arms Leia stood as straight and proper as ever while R2-D2 trundled up to nudge her hand. "I'm glad to be back, general. Now, this droid contains the information that the Empire has been seeking."

"We'll get on it right away."

A tech came to lead the droid away, a thick rope of cable in hand.

"General Dodonna," Leia continued, "These men helped saved my life. Luke Skywalker; his first mate, Susaa; Han Solo, and Chewbacca."

Dodonna shook their hands. His expression never changed from warm, but Luke could sense reticence and some suspicion. Naturally, whether on the surface someone was as young as Leia or old as Dodonna, they were at heart Rebel leaders. "Thank you. You will be a great help to us." Hardly a moment after he finished speaking his gaze roamed over the Fate as if in desperation for more firepower.

"We're—" Han began to protest, but Luke cut him off with a fist almost thumping the farm boy's chest. Crude but effective.

Leia picked up on his desire to sort their plans out in private. "Why doesn't someone show these men to quarters where they can rest, while I speak to the general." She turned to Han. "I'll talk to you soon."

Two others who had gathered among the techs snapped to attention and beckoned for the four to follow them. They proceeded through the cavernous hanger and into a turbolift that whisked them up what felt like tens of stories. Leia had been right about the modernization of the building; the ride was smooth, the doors in the hallway they entered framed and locked in modern fashion. But the stone floors looked as if they had been mortared for eons without moving, and Luke could see sigils carved along every stretch of floor, as if the ways were surrounded with sentences.

The Rebels left them with one guard—or perhaps just a resident, but Luke doubted it—at the far end of the corridor. As Susaa and Chewbacca began to explore the small dormitory, Han rounded on Luke.

"We aren't really going to stay here."

Luke folded his arms. "I can't tell you what you're going to do. But the Rebellion needs our help—and the Empire needs to end. Susaa and I are going to stay."

"This cause is all well and noble, but I have a home to get back to and people who are gonna wonder where I am—"

"Han, I've got those things too. But you saw what the Empire can do."

With a whuff of approval Chewie ambled up behind Han, whose shoulders jumped as the Wookiee kept up his loud dialogue.

Luke translated, realizing as he did that perhaps this was exactly what Han didn't want to hear. "He reminds you that you saw what the Empire was doing to him and Leia, and that you performed admirably on the battle station, earning a life debt."

"Kid, this is all very well and good for you, but I'm going back to my life." Han stormed off down the hall. The turbolift opened at his approach, and he punched a button that looked like the result of a belief in "anywhere is better than here" rather than a desire for a particular destination. Luke ran after him, but the doors closed. The young Jedi sighed and reached out in the Force, tracking Han's presence to a floor below the ground-floor hanger.

Susa approached, but Luke said, "Stay here—the more of us obey the rules, the better," and called the lift back up.

Luke found Han on the narrow, railed platform overhanging the underground hanger. He hadn't moved more than five steps from the turbolift, but stood with his hands on the metal railing and his mouth agape.

This level had been hewn out of more of the tan rock, with modern comforts such as the turbolift station and overhead lights suspended on cords. A starship-grade lift platform rose to their right on thick hydraulic legs, bringing an X-Wing up to the ground floor where the Fate was also parked. Along with somewhat fewer starships than there had been above, the room which stretched across the entire level contained many more people; people dragging cables or consulting computers, talking to or modifying droids, readying ships, or talking to one another. The room also held a few relatively small passenger ships for the evacuation and transport of those who were not fighter pilots, and the object of Han's attention.

"Can't you just imagine that flying?" Han asked as Luke came to stand at the rail beside him. The smuggler thought that Han would have said it even had no one been in earshot.

A brown-haired man in a sienna bomber jacket bounded up the stairs from the hanger floor, and before Luke could apologize for being down here, the Rebel said, "Isn't she beautiful? She's called Millennium Falcon."

"I've never seen anything as sleek as that, eh Skywalker?" Han said.

The ship was a large freighter, saucer-shaped, with a beaklike extended module and its top punctuated with sensor dishes and two laser canons. The engines were large and looked aftermarket; many panels that could have been covered with smooth plates were left with their rivets exposed. Luke thought that it looked rugged but classically capable. He wouldn't have looked at it like Han was, though; as if an old friend had at last come home and it was as if they had never parted.

"You've got a good eye for ships," said the Rebel, and he and Han comfortably shook hands. "I'm Wedge Antilles. You came in on the Raven J-7?"

Han had to look at Luke for confirmation of the make and model, and the two got in a good scowl at each other before Wedge reached out for Luke too. "Welcome to the crew."

"About that," Han said gruffly. "But about that ship—"

The turbolift doors opened and the platform was suddenly very full. Susaa had found Leia, or vice versa.

"Did I ask you to stay in your rooms until someone could show you around?" Leia said.

"Sure, your worshipfulness. But I never said I was gonna be a good little soldier—"

Her voice instantly became calm and controlled. "No one is going to forcibly recruit you, Han. We will provide a reward for your services."

Han's expression slackened. "Oh. Whatever reward you thought up for us is great, but I want that ship."

All eyes turned to the Millennium Falcon."Our fleet needs all the ships it has," Leia said, but Wedge Antilles held up a hand.

"Princess, we don't have enough pilots trained on large ships. She'll be invaluable to use, but not without a crew."

"Between me and Chewbacca we'll do it," Han said. Luke remembered Han asking very good questions about his ship, but that didn't mean he could fly a freighter.

Leia thought for a moment. "Mister Solo. If you agree to use the Falcon in the Rebellion's aid in our next engagement, it is yours. Without any other reward."

Han looked stormy. "Fine."

"You need training in it first," Luke muttered.

Wedge said, "We can send her up in a few hours."

"Good, princess, that settles things," said Han.

Her lips were pursed. "I suppose it does." She looked at Luke and Susaa. "You have the decision to make too."

"I'll stay," Luke said immediately. "The Empire has dues to pay." Leia's smile almost distracted him from Susaa's noncommittal nod.

"Thank you," Leia said.

There was a moment of silence in which Wedge looked at the chrono on his wrist. "If anybody wants a tour, see the ships, we'll be done in time for mess."

While Luke was interested in the ziggurat and the men and women he would be flying with, the others declined and ascended in the turbolift again.

To Luke, Wedge seemed to be one of those rare beings who acted toward someone he had just met—or at least, a recruit to his cause that he had just met-- as if they had been friends for years. He explained how the Millennium Falcon had belonged to a businessman named Lando Calrissian, who had complained of quirks and unidentifiable sounds from the engines and whom had traded the ship to a not-then-Rebel in exchange for a more comfortable craft and a large sum of credits. But the new pilot and co-pilot had been killed in a freak accident involving life support during the first time the ship entered combat, leaving the ship without a crew and, as Wedge put it, "At worst haunted and at best as ornery as a bull reek."

He guided Luke through both hangers, through musty smells of rock and sharp ones of engine fluids. "I wasn't lying when I said your friend had a good eye. The Falcon's got the best hyperdrive around."

But Luke could sense that the man's outgoing nature was not a product of naiveté, and that he was testing Luke's character as much as General Dodonna had been. Wedge's X-Wing bore six silhouettes of TIE fighters—kill marks.

The tour ended in the mess hall two floors up, where Rebels—mostly human males, the least likely demographic for the Empire to keep close watch on—sat at long tables and ate savory-smelling soup and rolls—surprisingly, not protein packs. Wedge introduced "the roguish boys of Red Squadron", including Red Leader, an older man who would have made Jedi Master had Ben's ability to stare right through a person conferred that title, and Biggs Darklighter, who hailed from Han's homeworld of Tatooine. Sitting there with the press of voices around him Luke was reminded of dinners with his adopted family. He would contact Muurkal this evening, tell her all that he had done and seen. She had always felt that the Empire needed to be changed, and now Luke would, for Muurkal and Ben and Leia and his father, work toward changing it.

On the roof of the towering building, Luke felt as if he could take the Force in and breathe it out like the air. The building stood like a finger pointing toward the mottled sherbet-orange sphere of Yavin; not since training with Ben had Luke felt so keyed to the life energy. But without a sparring partner whose moves he could sense, what was there he could do with it? Darth Vader and the emperor, dark Force users of the highest order, would as surely destroy him as they would someone with no powers at all.

Then, like a ripple of breeze, he sensed Leia emerge from the low doorway that Luke had come through earlier. She sat down next to him, both of their pairs of legs swinging over the tossing heads of the trees below. He knew that she felt glad to see him and as content as she could be with the threat of the Empire fresh in her thoughts of past and future, despite her curt tone. "How did you get up here?"

"I just wandered. Went where I was taken." That was true; he had taken the lift as far as it would go, into corridors unaugmented and dusty but as sturdy as the ones below. "How did you get up here?"

She smiled. "I followed you."

He was not sure what to say, and so looked at the trees. She seemed content with that, her sharp eyes following his gaze out to the horizon. It had been a long time since Luke had truly relaxed on a planet, had been able to take in its smells.

After a moment he asked her a question—it seemed the only way to keep his thoughts from cycling constantly back and back to the same point. "Have you ever felt separated from other people?"

She wasn't going to spill emotion that quickly. "What do you mean?"

"I was raised with dozens of alien brothers and sisters. We knew we weren't really related, but we acted like it. Were comfortable with it. I realize I've never been in a population largely made up of humans before. With Force-sensitivity, I feel even more alien than I did with…aliens. You know?"

Her smile was more sincere this time. "You're softer than Han. It might seem otherwise, but you are, in ways, the naïve one."

She continued, "It's human to feel alien."

They sat in silence for a time, until orange-tinted evening fell.