notes: Chapter updated 4/22/20

CHAPTER 7

"Where were you?" Han demanded. "You just disappeared!"

"I'm sorry," Luke panted. "I found something out and I was trying to follow a lead."

"Without telling us?" Han squawked, indignant.

"There was no time," Luke protested.

They were standing outside of the Falcon, the gleaming ship large in her berth. Luke had run all the way there, hoping and praying that Han and Chewie had returned there when they realized he was gone, rather than move on to the next tapcafe. They had—for which Luke was immensely grateful.

"Well," Han pressed, "what happened?"

"They were talking about telling someone that you survived," said Luke. "I was trying to figure out who that person was."

"Did you?"

"No," said Luke regretfully. "They realized I was following them," he mumbled.

"And you escaped?"

Luke nodded.

Han frowned. "That's a surprise," he commented. "I would have expected them to kill you."

"They tried," Luke admitted.

"And you escaped?" Han said again.

Again, Luke nodded.

"How?"

"I'm…not really sure," Luke hedged. "I just…told them to let me go, and they did."

Chewie, staring intently but silently at Luke, warbled, and gestured for the three of them to go into the Falcon. Han frowned, but nodded, then followed his first mate into the ship, Luke trailing behind.

As soon as the three of them were seated in the hold, the ramp closed behind them and the ship sealed from any listening ears, Chewie howled something. Han looked surprised.

"What?" Luke demanded, when Han made any movement to explain what Chewie had said.

"Chewie said that the Jedi had the ability to command the mind's of weaker people," Han explained. "They'd tell someone to do something, and they'd just…do it." He frowned deeper still. "I remember hearing stories like that," he said, "but I never really understood the Jedi. I was very young during the Clone War, and mostly just played at being Obi-Wan and Anakin."

Luke glanced at Chewie, recognizing the name. Chewie shook his head ever so slightly, and Luke nodded, then glanced back at Han. Even so, he could not help himself, and he asked, "Anakin and Obi-Wan? Who were they?"

Han grinned, breaking his frown. "They were only the most amazing Jedi in the Order," he said, his words tumbling out in a sudden burst of excitement long-forgotten. "Obi-Wan was the Diplomat, and Anakin was the Hot-head, but both were warriors. They single-handedly won the war—or so it seemed. They were everywhere in the news, on holos, interviews with them plastered everywhere on the buildings of Coruscant." His grin turned into a smile. "Everyone used to play at being them. I remember I used to fight with the others to get to be Anakin…" He trailed off, and again, Luke glanced at Chewie.

Han cleared his throat and stood. "Okay," he said, looking intently at Luke. "So we already knew you had the Force. This just confirms it. You used it again today to escape the thugs—but that's going to be dangerous. Chances are they'll figure out what happened, and they'll pass that information along to whoever their contact is. That's dangerous for you."

Luke nodded.

Chewie warbled, and Han nodded. He turned to Luke, then said, "Chewie says that we need to find this informant before he can pass any information about you along."

"How do we do that?" Luke asked.

"I don't know," Han admitted.

~oOo~

They spent the rest of the day trawling through tapcafes and pubs, restaurants and streets. By the end of it, Luke was exhausted and worn down to threadbare bone from both anxiety and stress.

"It'll be fine," Han said, sounding stouter than his expression belied. "We'll figure this out."

Luke shook his head, but said nothing.

What happened if those thugs told their informant about what had happened? What if the informant told whoever he worked for? What if that person passed his information along to the Empire? Or sought to capture him and use him themselves?

His stomach churning, his thoughts swirling, Luke followed Han and Chewie down the street back toward the docks, then up the ramp and into the Falcon, which Han closed up behind them.

"What do we do now?" Luke asked half an hour later. They were all sitting in the galley while Chewie made a light dinner.

Han shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted heavily. "I still have some contacts at the docks. We can talk to them tomorrow. And then we'll have to take to the streets and keep our ears peeled for any information…"

"You're looking at this all wrong."

Startled, Luke slid into Leia's mind. She had been silent most of the day, since his encounter with the thugs that morning. She had walked more around her cell, had done body press-ups and sit-up, but had kept her thoughts to herself—until now.

"How are we looking at this wrong?" Luke asked.

"You're looking for people who know who started the rumor," said Leia, "rather than looking for the person who sold you out."

"But we find one in order to find the other," said Luke.

"Or," said Leia, "you can just look for the source and cut out the middle-man."

"And how do we do that?"

"Who could have sold you out?"

"I don't know," said Luke, frustrated. "That's kind of the point, isn't it?"

"Okay, yes," said Leia, "but how could have sold you out?"

That gave Luke pause. "Zeno," said Luke. "Or one of Zeno's men. Or the informant who talked to us." Luke froze. "He was late to our meeting. And he did say he was followed—though he said by one of Zeno's men. Maybe someone who followed him found out?"

"Or him saying he was followed was a cover," Leia pointed out.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I think you need to find the informant who gave you the information about the datatapes."

Luke opened his mouth, paused, then blurted out, "What if we find and talk to the guy who gave us the information about the datatapes on Udur?"

Han, in the middle of talking to Chewie about a man he wanted to talk to the next day, froze mid-word. He scowled, then looked at Luke. "We don't even know the guy's name," he pointed out. "Let alone where he is now."

"Is there any way we can find out?"

"We can talk to Zeno," said Han slowly. "He'll probably know. He knows everyone in the underbelly. But, if Zeno is the one who sold us out, that'll tip him off that we're onto him."

Chewie howled.

"Yes," said Han in reply. "I do think it might be Zeno who sold us out. But I don't know for sure."

"Where's the harm in him knowing we know, though?" Luke asked, at a nudge from Leia. "What I mean is, does it matter? What can he do? If we're already enemies with him—if he's already trying to get us captured and killed, and thought we were dead—then what else is he going to do if we know he's the one who tried to get us? He may even be more careful and more wary of trying anything if he knows we know it was him."

Han paused. "You know, Kid," he said, "what you say makes an absurd sense. Usually you try not to tip off the enemy of what you know—but in this case, it may benefit us.

"Okay," said Han. "We'll contact Zeno tomorrow. Depending on how he replies, we'll probably be able to figure out if it was him or not."

Luke grinned. Leia smiled, lying back on her cot, her hands cradling her head. Han nodded. Chewie howled, then turned off the stove and moved the pot of noodles to the table. He warbled, then motioned for the others to dish up.

Luke licked his lips in anticipation, and grabbed the fork and ladle. "Wish you could be here," he thought at Leia.

"Me too," sighed Leia wistfully.

~oOo~

The next morning dawned grey and dismal, to no one's surprise. A heavy fog clung to the streets and to the ships, lining them in beads of pearl and edging them in gleaming silver. The air, which Luke tasted when Han opened the Falcon up, was heavy with humidity and the taste of rotting refuse.

"Blech," Han said as he walked down the ramp, stretching. He took a circuit around the ship, then under it, checking to make sure nothing had been stolen or displaced during the night—then he went back into the ship, hit the button that controlled the ramp, and closed the door once again.

Luke, who had been standing in the doorway watching Han work, stepped back as the ramp swung up into the ship. He then followed Han into the belly of the ship and into the cockpit, where Chewie was waiting for them.

"Well," said Han, settling into the pilot's chair, "guess it's time."

They had already eaten and dressed for the day. There was nothing left to do but call Zeno.

Han handed Luke a headset, which Luke fitted over his head and against his ears, while Han punched in the address code for the com unit. There was a burst of static, a buzz—and then a sour voice said, "What do you want?"

"Nice reception," Han drawled. "The name's Han Solo, and I want to talk to Zeno."

"You can't," said the sour voice, and Luke grimaced.

"This is important," said Han.

"Everyone says that."

"This is about an Imperial mole in his ranks," Han said casually and coolly. "Now, will you put me through to Zeno—or to one of his lieutenants—or not?"

There was a pause—then a tinny song began playing across the com speakers.

"What—" Luke began, only to be cut off by a new, female voice, sharp and brittle and edged with ice, saying, "This is Adamar Prayta. What do you want?"

"The name's Han Solo," said Han. "Who am I speaking to?"

A pause. Then, "I already gave you my name."

"Yes, but who are you? Are you one of Zeno's lieutenants? A thug? A media specialist? What?"

Another pause. Then, "What the hell is this call about?"

"Look," said Han with a long-suffering tone, "I'm only going to speak to Zeno or one of Zeno's lieutenants about this. It's about someone selling secrets."

"I'm Adamar Prayta. One of Zeno's captains. You can talk to me about this, or no one at all."

Han squinted at the com, then looked at Chewie, who shrugged. He turned in his seat to look at Luke, perched in the navigator's chair, and Luke mouthed, Go ahead.

"Here's the thing," said Han. "Rumor on Nal Hutta has it that Chewbacca and I were killed by Imperials. We were captured by Imps, but we escaped. Someone sold us out to them—our location, at least, and when we were going to be there—and we want to know who."

There was another pause, longer than any of the others. The Adamar said, "We heard nothing of this. It didn't come from us."

"Can you prove that?"

"Who was your informant? What were you even after that caused this to happen?"

Han frowned at Chewie, then said, "The datatapes."

"What datatapes?"

"The wreckage datatapes."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Okay," Luke thought to Leia, who was watching through his eyes. "So either Adamar is playing mind games with us, or she really doesn't know about the datatapes. And if that's the case, then the informant wasn't really being followed by Zeno's men. He was being followed by someone else—or was talking to someone else."

"Either way," said Leia, "you have to find that informant."

"Okay, then you'll be willing to help us find the informant who sold us out to the Imps."

A sigh. "We're not usually in the field of giving out information to someone working for a rival. Especially when the rival is Jabba. But, given that I have heard a rumor about your capture and death by Imperials—"

"It's traveled all the way to Coruscant?" Han squawked.

"Then I'd say we have an Imperial mole in our midst," Adamar went on. "And no one wants an Imperial mole in our ranks. So yes, I'll help you find him. What did he look like?"

"Human," said Han. "Short, plump, balding. Mousey hair. Watery, blue eyes."

"No name?"

"He didn't give one and I didn't ask. You know how it is."

"Hm," said Adamar. There came the clicking of keys on a keyboard. "That's what I thought," she said after a long moment of mostly silence.

"What?" Han asked when Adamar did not continue.

Adamar sighed. "There's an informant who works mercenary," she said. "Goes by Hokar. No last name. He appeared on the scene about ten years ago, and two of his missions have been intercepted by Imperials. He was the only survivor of both assaults."

"How did this not cause any red flags earlier?" asked Han.

"They were nearly eight years apart," said Adamar, "and his stories were, apparently, always very convincing. I'm still not sure…"

Another long pause, more clacking of keys, and then a snort. "I wondered," Adamar said. Then, "There was a back window into his file. It was scrubbed of all warning codes that normally would ping a flag like that. I wouldn't have found it if I wasn't looking for it, and I never would have looked for it without you saying something." Another pause. "I'll notify Zeno, and we'll dispatch a team to eliminate him. Thank you, Solo. Your contribution will not be forgotten."

"What about if we find him first?" Han asked. "Will there be a reward?"

"Yes," said Adamar. "If you find him, and bring us his body, you will be rewarded handsomely."

Han grinned. "Perfect."

The line went dead.

"Well," said Han, pulling his headset off and dropping it onto the control board. "That went better than expected. Guess we know what we're doing now. And who we're going after."

~oOo~

Two fruitless days of searching later, however, they were no closer to finding Hokar, and the trail, they knew, was getting cold.

"I just don't know what to do," said Han, scrubbing a hand through his flopping hair. It was, Luke thought, in need of a trim; his bangs were falling into his eyes, and his hair was scruffy around his ears. "We're no closer to finding the bastard, we have no intel on his whereabouts—he could be anywhere now, frankly. There's no guarantee he's even still here on Nal Hutta, and—"

The com unit in the cockpit crackled, and then a warning siren blared out from it: three short burts, then two long, then three short. Silence for a handspan of seconds. Then the signal repeated.

"Shit," said Han, scrambling to his feet from the wrap-around couch. "What the hell is an Imperial signal doing on Nal Hutta?"

They dashed to the cockpit and slid into their seats just as the com unit crackled to life.

"Attention all ships," an official-sounding voice said, crisp and clear and groomed for com speak. "This is the Imperial Star Destroyer Vengeance. All ships are to remain in location until the ongoing investigation is complete. Failure to comply will result in destruction." There was a break, and then the message began again. "Attention all ships—"

Han immediately began firing up the controls.

"What are you doing?" Luke exclaimed, half-rising from the navigator's chair. "We were told to stay in location!"

"Yeah, and you do realize they're probably here for you, right?" Han asked.

Chewie howled what even Luke could understand was an agreement.

"Oh," said Luke, sitting back down.

"Besides, we're not the only ones who are going to be booking it," said Han, and he pointed as a Mandalorian freighter rose from its berth some three docking bays away. "We'll be lost in the confusion as half the planet decides to make a break for it."

"And if we're one of the unlucky ones to get fired on?"

"We'll survive a few blasts, even from a Star Destroyer, and then we'll be home free," said Han, firing the engines. They thrummed to life, and the entire ship shook as they rumbled hot and hotter.

Chewie, seated in the copilot's chair, toggled a switch, and the ship began to lift off. The groan of the landing struts retracting shuddered through the frame—and then they were off, soaring into the dismal heavens and into atmosphere.

The clouds consumed them. Everything went white and grey and pearl, and for a second Luke's breath caught in his chest, Leia's own fear wrapping around his heart like coiled wire as she thought the same thought as him. What if they collided with another ship while in the midst of the clouds? What if they hit something they couldn't see? What if—

They erupted out of the cloud bank and into the upper layer of the atmosphere, Nal Hutta's sun blazing bright and brilliant above the clouds.

Then, almost before Luke's light-blindness could begin to assert itself, they had passed through the atmosphere and out into the vacuum of space where the darkness of infinity swallowed all.

Around them rose a dozen, a hundred other ships of a dozen, a hundred different makes and models. Above them sat a Star Destroyer, squat and hulking.

Han angled the Falcon forward and arrowed for the space beneath the Destroyer and the freedom that lay beyond. Dozens of other ships had the same idea, and as one fleet they flew, wing-tip to wing-tip, engine exhaust to engine exhaust, toward the darkness of hope interspersed with far-distant stars.

"Come on," Han mumbled, coaxing a little more speed from the Falcon's engines. "Come on, old girl," he said again, and coaxed a little more.

A shudder and a concussive thump echoed through the bones of the Falcon, and her shields flared.

"Shit," Han cursed. "They're firing."

A flash of green. A shiver of the shields. An explosion of soundless light to the left as a ship exploded, its shields too weak to withstand a direct blow from an Imperial Star Destroyer.

"Shit," cursed Han again, and he pushed the Falcon faster.

Another flash of light. Another rumble through the Falcon's bones. Warning lights flashed on the dashboard, and Han cursed in a long string of Huttese.

"I didn't know you knew Huttese," said Luke, surprise dragging the words from his mouth before he could stop them.

Han ignored him.

"One more hit and our shields will be toasted," he said, and jammed the throttle all the way to maximum. The ship shivered, the ship shook, the ship trembled—but she held together as she rocketed forward amid her peers.

A flash of green light. Luke closed his eyes, waiting for the impact and the explosion—

A ship to their right erupted in shrapnel and light, which was instantly extinguished in the emptiness of space.

"Five," Han counted, booting up the navicomputer.

Chewie howled.

"Three," Han said, as they sheered toward open space.

Chewie howled again, just as a final spear of green light erupted from the Star Destroyer.

"One."

The stars bled out into long streams—and they were free.

~oOo~

"We have to decide what we're doing now," Han said, stretching his legs out and propping his feet up on the dejarik table. It was off, its surface littered with bowls still filled at the bottom with tiny puddles of soup.

Chewie howled and braced his hands on the back of his head. Han nodded.

"Chewie's right," he said. "We need work—and there's one place I know we can get it."

"Which is?"

"Jabba."

"I'm not going back to Tattooine," Luke said flatly. "Not already. Not yet."

"We'll be in and out," Han promised. "We'll go see one of his job recruiters, get a job, and head out. Simple as that. Won't even take a day."

"You aren't going to just drop me off, are you?" Luke asked suspiciously. "Now that the job you hired me on for is done?"

"Kid," said Han patiently, "I bought you a blaster. I'm not about to let that investment go to waste."

Luke watched Han with narrowed eyes, but then Leia said, "He's telling the truth."

"Okay," Luke thought with a mental sigh. "If you say so."

"Okay," he said aloud. "But I'm sticking with you the entire time. You won't get a chance to leave me behind."

"Wouldn't even dream of it," Han promised with a roguish grin.

~oOo~

They arrived at Tattoine's southern hemisphere at night, landing in Mos Espa beneath a starry sky. Luke, regretting every moment they spent on the planet before it had even fully passed, spent a sleepless night pacing the halls of the Falcon, worried that Han and Chewie would leave without him.

"It's going to be okay," Leia promised him for the hundredth time. She was staying up with him, for all that she reassured him that everything would be fine.

"You don't know that," Luke said.

"I can tell sometimes when people lie," Leia pointed out. "I could tell he wasn't lying when he said he wasn't planning on abandoning you."

"That doesn't mean he couldn't change his mind."

"Fair point," Leia admitted. "But still…"

Dawn arrived a few short hours later, paling the dark sky to pink and rose and cerulean as the first sun rose. Han and Chewie began moving around, and after a quarter of an hour they both emerged from their respective cabins, bleary-eyed and still half-asleep to shower and get breakfast going.

"Did you sleep at all?" Han asked Luke as he came into the main hold half an hour later.

Luke shook his head.

Han sighed and ran a hand through his long hair, shoving it out of his eyes. "You'll sleep as soon as we get back," he ordered.

"All right," said Luke. "So long as we lift off as soon as we get back."

"We will," Han promised.

They ate a quick breakfast of oatmeal and flash-frozen blueberries, then strapped on their blasters and boots and left the Falcon. The second sun was just beginning to rise, bleaching the sky to white-blue and blistering the air.

The walk to the recruiter's office only took a few minutes. It was located two blocks outside of the city's main docks, the front of the building ramshackle stucco painted a peeling white. The door was painted a bright red, and it slid open before Luke, Han, and Chewie on squeaky rollers and complaining hinges.

"Hello there," said a round Twi'lek behind a desk that stretched from one wall to the other. "What can I do for yo—Ah. Solo. Here for a new job?"

"That's right," said Han.

The Twi'lek grinned. "I've got just the perfect job for a freighter like yours. A simple supply run to one of Jabba's outlying mining colonies, with a drop-off and a pickup. You'll deliver the goods you pick up to the location we'll provide, payment at that location. Two weeks total, a payout of 500 credits."

"We'll take it," Han said quickly.

"Perfect," said the Twi'lek. "I'll get the paperwork."

They wheeled their chair to a series of large cabinets behind the desk. They hummed to themself as they rifled through one drawer, then another, before pulling out a piece of flimsie.

"Sign here," said the Twi'lek, pointing at a line at the bottom of the page.

Han's eyes flicked back and forth as he read the sheet, then nodded, and signed his name on the line with a pen borrowed from an empty flower pot standing on the desk's counter.

"And I need a fingerprint here," said the Twi'lek, producing a datapad. Han pressed his forefinger to the scanner pad at the bottom of the screen, and the datapad beeped. "Perfect!" the Twi'lek exclaimed. "The job is yours. I'll have the dock workers load up your ship this afternoon, so you'll be ready to go this evening."

Han nodded, and Luke felt his stomach sink. This evening? That was many hours away.

"I thought you said we'd leave as soon as we were done with getting the job," he hissed to Han's back once they were back out in the street.

"I don't get to pick the job," Han hissed back, turning just enough to speak to Luke. "Hide out on the ship if you want to while we're here. No one will see you or know you, and we obviously won't be able to leave you here."

Reluctantly, Luke nodded. "I'm not sleeping, though."

Han flapped a hand. "Do what you want," he groused, clearly in a foul mood. Luke wondered what had soured his disposition in the last few minutes.

"Fine," Luke said, though, deciding not to press for details and not in the mood to be grumped at. "I will."

"Fine," Han snapped, and Chewie sighed.

They reached the Falcon and Luke went inside, plopping himself down on the couch and folding his arms.

"What now?" he asked Leia.

Leia shrugged mentally. She was walking up and down the length of her cell once more, after having down press-ups and sit-ups. She was already getting stronger. Maybe she was doing the right thing after all—no, Luke corrected himself, she was doing the right thing. She was fighting once more, against darkness and against failure. That was what was important. Was it not?

"Now," she said, "I guess we wait."