notes: Welp, look at me getting another chapter out. Thanks so much to all of you who commented! You really made my day :) I hope you'll enjoy this chapter too, for all that it's another short one!

notes 2: Chapter updated 4/22/20

CHAPTER 8

They lifted off just as Tatooine's second sun was setting, turning the air dark purple and dusty grey. Luke sat in the navigator's chair in the cockpit and watched the planet fall away beneath the Falcon's windshield, a feeling of profound relief—and something deeper and far more foul—lodged between his ribs.

Once they had entered hyperspace, Han rose from the pilot's chair and paused by Luke on his way out of the cockpit. "Get some rest," he ordered, glancing down at the young man sitting with his hands clasped tightly on his knees. "It'll take us about five days to get to the mining facility, and another eight to get from there to the drop-off location.

Luke nodded, but did not move to rise, even after Han had disappeared down the corridor toward the main hold.

Chewie turned and warbled at him. Luke shrugged, guessing at what Chewie had meant. "I'm fine," he lied. "I'm just not tired." He smiled weakly, knowing he hadn't convinced the Wookiee, but unwilling to do or say anything else.

Sighing, Chewie stood as well and left the cockpit, resting a hand on Luke's shoulder for a moment before passing through the doorway.

For a long time after that, Luke just sat and stared at the streaks of blue hyperspace, thinking and resting in Leia's mind. She was silent with him, allowing him to muse and stew, sharing in his unknown misery but not pressing for him to speak.

At last, Luke fell asleep in the navigator's chair, lulled into slumber by the hum of the engines and the steady throb of the hyperspace lane lights.

He dreamed.

He sat in the navigator's chair, beside an old man with white hair and a white beard—a man who looked very much like Old Ben. Sitting in front of them, in the pilot's and the copilot's seats, were Han and Chewie. Beyond the windshield Tatooine spread out beneath them like a bloated coin, while from both the right and the left came Star Destroyers.

"I thought you said this thing could outrun them."

"It ain't like dusting crops, Kid."

"A disturbance in the Force."

"A million voices all crying out as one…suddenly silenced…"

Luke jolted awake, breathing and sweating hard. He gulped against a dry mouth, then rose and staggered out into the main hold.

Han looked up from the dejarik table, where he was playing against Chewie. He frowned. "Everything okay, Kid?" he asked.

"Fine," rasped Luke, stumbling through the main hold and into the galley. He poured himself a cup of water, which he gulped down—and then reached for Leia.

She was shuddering on her cot, knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around her shins.

"Leia?" Luke asked. "Are you okay?"

"I had a weird dream," Leia admitted shakily.

"What was it about?" Luke asked.

But Leia would not tell him.

For a second, Luke considered pushing his way into her mind, rooting through her thoughts until he could find what was disturbing her—but he decided against it. What right did he have to force her to tell him something she did not want to say?

None.

Luke sank down into one of the chairs bolted to the floor in front of the table, placing his cup down on the worn surface and then folding his arms beneath his forehead, which he laid down next to the cup. He closed his eyes against the headache forming behind them, breathed deeply, and fought against the overwhelming crush of despair and anxiety welling up within him.

Was this what he was supposed to be doing? Was this where he was supposed to be going? Was he doing the right thing?

He didn't know.

He fell asleep again, pressed down by the weight of his thoughts—but this time, if he dreamed, he could not remember what it was he dreamed of.

~oOo~

They reached the mining facility on the fifth day.

The mining facility was located on an asteroid in a large asteroid belt encircling a small, rocky planet that had once upon a time been named Polis. Whatever life had once lived on Polis was long gone, however; the asteroid belt, formed by the destruction of the planet's moon, had laid waste to the planet's surface, turning it from a once-vibrant jungle to a barren wasteland of fire and stone.

"I hear tell there's a medical facility somewhere in this mess of an asteroid belt," Han said as he piloted them through the chunks of ice and rock toward the mining facility. "Never been able to find it myself, though."

"Hm," said Luke. He was sitting in the navigator's chair, a funny feeling in his stomach.

Chewie warbled, and Han shrugged. "No, I don't know for sure it's here," he said. "I only know that's the rumor. Anyway, it doesn't really matter. We're not here to look for rumored medical facilities; we're here to drop off supplies and get a shipment of…whatever it is Jabba is mining in this gods-forsaken place."

Luke frowned. "Don't you know what he's mining here?"

Han shrugged. "Nope," he said. "I make a habit of not asking too many questions—a habit you'd better get into too, if you want to live for very long in this line of work."

"Oh," said Luke. "Right."

They docked less than an hour later. The mining facility encompassed the asteroid it was delving into, holding it in a lover's tight embrace; large, skeletal structures of durasteel and duracrete spanned the asteroid like a spider's web, dark holes where the drills had dug deep into the surface staring out like so many black eyes. Three ships were docked already, their hulls glittering in the starlight and the bright floodlights mounted onto the drills, the tubes connecting them to the enclosed docking platform black against the grey and silver durasteel and duracrete.

"Polis Missi Mining Facility," Han said into the comm unit, static buzzing between each word, "this is the Millennium Falcon, requesting permission to dock."

A moment passed, then two, before the comm unit crackled and a thin, nasal voice said, "Millennium Falcon, you are cleared to dock. Please proceed to docking bay 4."

They docked, the long, snaking tube hissing as it connected to the top hatch, then pressurized. Han led the way onto the rising platform and up to the hatch, then up the ladder in the tube itself, hand rising over hand as he climbed rung after rung. The second hatch hissed open as he approached, and a moment later Han, followed by Chewie and Luke, dropped climbed down to the floor of the dock.

A Twi'lek was waiting for them, his lekku wrapped around his neck and shoulders, his green eyes flat with disdain. He sneered at the sight of the three smugglers, then tapped his stylus against the pad in his hands once, twice, three times.

"I see here," he said stiffly, "that you have brought us mining supplies from Tatooine. We are then to load you up with a shipment to Hafrassal."

"Yup," said Han. "In and out—just how you and I like it, Mordal."

"Hm," sniffed Mordal, his lekku quivering with either agitation or annoyance. "I will set the droids to unloading your ship at once. They should be done unloading and loading in three hours—at which point, I expect you gone from my mining facility."

"Understood," said Han.

Mordal waved them away, and Han turned to Luke and Chewie and said, "Let's go find some food." He grinned. "And drink."

They walked out of the docking bay and into the mining facility proper. It was a large rotunda, with multiple long, broad halls branching off of it, leading toward sleeping quarters, drill bays, workshops, and engine and air purification rooms. There was also, Han told Luke as they walked toward the single tapcafe located along the edge of the rotunda, a greenhouse at the far end of the facility.

They were seated almost at once, led to a table at the back of the tapcafe by a Rodian that Luke assumed was smiling. They were handed menus, cups of water were placed before them on tiny napkins, and utensils wrapped in paper were placed on their table, and then the Rodian disappeared into the back to pick up another table's order.

"So," said Luke as he looked over the menu. It appeared to be a variety of fried foods, along with a handful of sandwich options.

"So?" Han prompted, putting his menu back down on the table so he could stare at Luke.

"What's with you and this Mordal guy?"

Chewie snickered a laugh, while Han rolled his eyes. "Nothing," he muttered, only for Chewie to bark a reply. "Hey," Han exclaimed, rounding on his best friend and copilot. "I did not cheat him. He only thinks I did."

Luke raised his eyebrows. "What did you cheat him at?" he asked.

"I said I didn't cheat him," Han said, voice rising in consternation. "He only thinks I did, because I won every hand he played against me."

Chewie warbled a comment, and Luke looked to Han for a translation.

"Yes," said Han. "I did win over a thousand credits from him that day. But still—come on, it was just luck of the draw. I didn't actually cheat!"

Chewie grumbled and rolled his eyes, and Luke laughed. "Sure, Han," he teased, only for a flash of panic to race through his gut and into his chest, tightening his lungs and making it suddenly difficult to breathe. "We believe you," he finished—but only just.

"Leia?" he asked silently, turning his thoughts inward as he went back to staring at the menu. "Are you okay?"

"Don't."

"Don't?" Luke asked.

"Be careful," Leia said. "You have to be careful. You don't know these people very well yet—Han could have turned on you for teasing him like that. You don't know he won't still. You…kriff it, Luke, you have to be careful."

"Leia," Luke said, at a loss for words. "I don't think he's going to turn on me for teasing him."

"You have to be careful what you say," Leia said. You have to please them, she did not say, though Luke could feel it in her thoughts. Winning a fair game of dejarik is one thing—teasing someone, and disbelieving them, and making fun of them, is a completely different thing.

"I guess you're right," Luke said slowly. "I don't know him well yet. I didn't know how he'd respond. For all I know he could have…" Luke shrugged mentally. "I'll be more careful," he promised Leia.

She sent her thanks, wordless and warm, and for a second Luke basked in its sunlight. Then he realized he was supposed to be reading his menu and hurriedly glanced over it, just as the waiter returned to the table.

They ordered, Han a bantha burger, Chewie a hunk of brazened meat still on the bone, Luke the stew of the day with half a loaf of bread. The Rodian took their orders, noting them down on a pad, before disappearing into the back once more to get their food started.

"So," said Han, leaning back in his chair, "what're we doing to pass the time once we finish eating?"

Luke shrugged mutely, while Chewie warbled.

"Now why would you think I'd do that?" Han asked with a smug grin.

Chewie warbled again.

"Okay, so maybe I was," Han said, crossing his arms. "So what?"

"What were you doing?" Luke asked.

"Thinking about going to play some sabaac," said Han with a flick of his eyes toward Luke.

"Isn't that how you got into trouble last time?" Luke asked.

Han shrugged. "It'll be fine," he reassured Luke. "Besides, you're gonna have to learn how to play sometime. Might as well be today."

Chewie huffed a sigh, but he seemed to relent, his shoulders drooping even as he rolled his eyes.

"So, Kid," said Han leaning forward and bracing his elbows on the table over the menu still sitting there, "you ready to learn the basics of sabaac?"

Luke nodded, leaning forward as well.

"First thing to know," said Han, "is that unless you're holding or hiding cards, there's no way to cheat at sabaac, even though some people think the Hutts do. Which, okay, the Hutts have probably found out a way to cheat, but to most people, there's no way of cheating. It's a game of luck as well as wit, and you win by playing the hand with the highest point value."

He launched into a lengthy explanation of the basic rules of sabaac while they waited for their food. Luke drank it all in, forwarding the information on to Leia as well, who memorized it as she did her press-ups and sit-ups for the day. By the time their food arrived, Luke was fairly certain he could at least theoretically play a round of sabaac without making an utter fool of himself.

They ate, Han still lecturing, much to Chewie's annoyance. The stew was good: thick and rich, with just the right blend of vegetables that had been rehydrated, meat, and broth. The bread, though, was the best part of the meal, light and soft, with a crunchy crust, and butter to melt into it.

They finished, full and content, and Han stood with a stretch. "Well, Kid," he said, looking down at Luke still sitting, "ready to go put your newfound knowledge to the test?"

Luke grinned. "Sure," he said.

They paid for their meals, then headed out of the tapcafe and toward one of the three gambling dens around the rotunda.

It was dim and smoke-filled, with hanging lights that were shuttered with dark film. Luke choked on the thick air as soon as they stepped through the door, gagging and shooting a look at Han that was half a question, half a plea.

Han clapped Luke on the shoulder, a grin pricking at the edges of his lips. "It's okay," he promised. "Most gambling dens are like this—some even worse. But you can make some good money here, so it's worth it."

"Is it in a place like this that you won against Mordal?" Luke asked.

"Yup," said Han. "This very one, actually."

"Oh, good," Luke muttered. "Must be good luck, then."

Han's grin blossomed into a full smile. "Oh, I'm sure," he said, and guided Luke toward a table mostly-filled with sentients.

"Hello there," he said, coming to a halt beside the table. The pack of sentients—two Twi'leks, three humans, and another Rodian—all looked up, varying displays of irritation on their faces.

"Whaddya want?" one of the Twi'leks asked, voice mostly a growl

"My crewmember here is a greeny," Han announced, "and he is interested in losing some credits today."

Their faces eased. "Well then sit on down," said the blond-haired human, kicking one of the two empty chairs away from the table. He looked at Han. "You too," he said, nodding at the last empty chair. "Join us."

Han sat, motioned for Luke to sit as well, then leaned forward and dropped a handful of credits onto the table. "The Kid and I's buy-in," he said. "Now deal us in."

The blond human picked up the deck sitting at the center of the table and dealt Han and Luke their cards, then sat back with a smile. Luke looked at him uneasily, then glanced down at his own hand. His stomach turned over, clenched, and knotted, until he was vaguely ill with anxiety.

What if he lost Han money? That would surely annoy him. Leia's conversation with him was fresh in his mind; he didn't know what would happen if he made Han angry, or upset. He didn't know if the man would hurt him, or try to hurt him. He didn't think Chewie would—but would Chewie put a stop to Han doing anything to him? Or would he simply sit back and watch it happen?

It seemed unlikely, and against his character—both their characters. But Leia was right; Luke didn't know much about them, so he couldn't be sure.

He needed to be more wary, more careful. He needed to not trust so easily.

"Discard that one," Leia prompted, nudging Luke out of his thoughts and pointing to one of the cards in his hand. He didn't even hesitate; he just tossed it down onto the table and drew the next card out of the deck.

They kept playing, Leia making a suggestion every now and again, Luke following her advice without a second thought. He made most of the plays, though, choosing when to discard and what cards to hang onto, when to skip, and when to lay down.

And then, very suddenly, the game was over. There was silence around the table, and then the Twi'lek who had spoken up first snorted.

"Beginner's luck," he said with an added sniff, throwing what remained of his cards down onto the table.

Luke looked at the rest of the cards around the table—and with a swoop of his stomach, he realized he had won the game. His deck had scored the highest out of all of them.

"Oh," Luke said, surprised. He had been so focused on his own cards he had forgotten to look at everyone else's.

Han guffawed and clapped Luke on the back. "Good job, Kid!" he exclaimed, scooping up the pile of credits from the center of the table. "Shall we go again?"

"Yeah," said the Twi'lek. "I want my money back."

So, they played again. Again, Leia made a comment every now and again; again, Luke ran as much on instinct as knowledge, his mind filled to overflowing with the rules Han had tried to explain to him.

"No way," said one of the other humans as the second round came to a close. He was short and stocky, with dark hair and dark eyes in a pale, pointed face. "He won again?"

"Yep," Han announced, gleeful. "Good job, Kid."

Luke shrugged, uncertain as to how he was doing it—he was barely managing to not foul, let alone playing to win—but he grinned all the same.

"'nother round?" Han asked.

"Yes," said the Rodian, glowering.

They dealt a third hand—and then a fourth, a fifth, a sixth.

Luke won every hand.

Behind them, Luke felt Chewie grow more and more agitated. Han grew more and more gleeful with every round. By the eighth time through, Luke was surprised the smuggler wasn't bursting with contained amusement—or that his pockets hadn't split from all of the credits he was stuffing into them.

"There's no way this Kid is a greeny," snapped the first human after the tenth hand that Luke had won. "No one—no one—wins this many hands in a row. Ever. Period. Let alone if they're a greeny."

Luke just shrugged. "I swear," he said, "I've never played a game of sabaac before in my life."

Three things happened at once: Han yelled something incoherent; Chewie lunged, grabbed the table, and flipped it over; and the sound of a blaster discharging rang through the smoke-filled air.

Luke sat, stunned, for a split second, processing what had just happened. Then he felt a large, hairy paw wrap around his shoulder and yank him out of his chair and to the floor—just as another blaster discharged, a red laser spitting through the air where his head had been half a breath before.

"What the—"

"Go!" Han shouted, kicking a chair at a shadowy figure approaching from the corner.

"Wha—"

Chewie grabbed Luke and dragged him to his feet, then propelled him toward the door and out into the atrium. Han followed. His blaster was in his hands, and as they hit the rotunda and opened their strides into a full run, Han turned and shot behind him.

A blasterbolt slammed into the floor by Luke's right boot, making him jump. He pushed himself faster. Chewie was beside him, howling something to Han, who was running behind them and shooting over his shoulder at their pursuers.

They pelted through the atrium and into one of the branching corridors. The floor underfoot rang with their bootsteps, Luke's teeth rattled as he pounded up the gentle incline, and the smell of ozone was sharp in the air. The corridor was windowless, the lights bright and white against the tiles that made up floor and ceiling, the doors that opened off of the hall black and yawning like so many open mouths.

Around a corner, down an incline, through double sliding doors. A blast of hot, humid air and warm, golden light struck Luke in the face, making it difficult for him to breathe for one long heartbeat, two, three. Then he gasped, his lungs adjusting to the new normal, and he could breathe without feeling as though he was drowning once more.

They were in the greenhouse. Rows and rows of flowering plants stood on shelves before them, green and verdant and rich. Sprinklers in the midst of a misting cycle were affixed to the ceiling, in between lines of hot, yellow lamps that were meant to simulate sunlight.

"This way," Han hissed, grabbing Luke's elbow and dragging him into the greenhouse. It smelled strongly of rich loam and fertilizer, and within seconds his face, hair, and collar were damp with pearls of water.

They crouched down behind a stand of flowering fruit trees in pots. "What's going on?" Luke hissed to Han, then glanced at Chewie.

"They think we're cheating," Han hissed back. "They don't take kindly to cheaters here—or anywhere, really."

"But I thought you said it was impossible to cheat at sabaac," Luke said. "Besides, I've never even played before today! How am I supposed to cheat?"

"You're not," said Han. "And I know you didn't. Or, at least, I don't think you did. But you seemed to know exactly what cards to pick and when, and that's…basically an impossibility, even more than an improbability." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "You know," he said, "I wonder if it has something to do with the Fo—"

Chewie hissed at them, and Han instantly went quiet. The double doors into the greenhouse opened again, and Luke heart multiple pairs of footsteps enter.

"Fan out," said one of the humans who they'd been playing with. "They've gotta be in here somewhere."

More footsteps. Han's hands tightened around his blaster. Luke breathed in deeply, and remembered the blaster on his own hip. He drew it, feeling foolish and afraid all at once.

He had already killed—and killed multiple people. Why was he afraid of hurting someone now?

"Ther—"

Han whipped around, brought his blaster up, and fired. The person who had begun to shout fell in a boneless heap, a blasterbolt burning in their chest.

"Let's go!" Han yelled, and he bolted for the door and the corridor.

Luke followed, Chewie taking up the rearguard. They sprinted between the rows of cabbages and carrots, the lines of apple trees and pear bushes. The greenery flashed by, there and then gone, there and then gone, there and then gone. Luke coughed against the humidity, gripped his blaster with clammy hands, and watched the door draw closer through the fronds and leaves.

They were almost there. They just had to reach the end of the aisle then turn left and make it half a dozen steps—then out into the corridor, back up the hall, through the atrium, and onto their ship. Easy enough.

They were fifteen steps from freedom when Luke heard another blaster discharge. He felt more than saw the blaze of red flash past him, missing his arm by centims, the heat of the laser scorching his skin through his shirt.

A grunt.

A cry of surprise.

Then Han fell, tumbling over his side, his chest, his arm, his back, until he came to rest at the end of the aisle.

Luke whipped around, bringing his blaster up, and fired without even taking the time to aim. A yelp sounded, and when Luke's eyes caught up to his hands, he saw that the Rodian had dropped his blaster and was gripping his shoulder, a hole burned through it.

Chewie howled. Luke turned.

The Wookiee had Han in his arms, and was already turning toward the doors. Luke followed, sprinting the last handful of steps to the corridor, breathing hard. Together, he and Chewie hit the hall and took the incline at a dead run, while behind them came a scuffle and a handful of shouts. They ignored them, instead sprinting for all they were worth for the Falcon.

A bolt zipped past them, splattering harmlessly on the tiles at their feet. A second one ripped through the air overhead. A third spat between them. Then they turned the corner, putting a wall between them and their pursuers.

They reached the Falcon a minute later.

"Think the droids are done?" Luke asked, looking up as he scrambled down the ladder in the tube.

Chewie howled, working his way down the ladder one-handed. Luke had no idea what the howl meant, so he just said, "I hope so," and dropped the last handful of rungs to the hatch. He triggered it open, then hopped down onto the lift, reaching up once he was securely on the rising floor to help Chewie lower Han down.

It was the first time Luke got a good look at Han. He was unconscious, the hole in his belly still smoking faintly and smelling of charred meat. "Kriff," Luke swore quietly, seeing the damage. "That's—that's bad."

Chewie howled again, hitting the button to close the hatch and send the lift down into the ship.

Luke hovered, uncertain of what to do or what Chewie wanted him to do. He followed as Chewie carried Han to the infirmary, then out of the infirmary again and towards the cockpit. When he made to sit in the navigator's chair, however, Chewie snarled and pointed at the copilot's chair; he himself had taken the pilot's chair.

"What about the droids and the cargo?" Luke asked.

Chewie snarled again, this time lower and more dangerous.

"Okay," said Luke. "Got it."

The engines rumbled to life. Above them, the tube disconnected automatically, retracting back into its holding pod. Chewie eased them away from the docking bay and away from those who wished them harm.

Somehow, Luke suspected they would never be going back to Polis Missi again.

"Well," said Luke. "What now?" He hesitated, then said, "It's bad, isn't it, Chewie?"

Chewie nodded.

"We need to get him medical attention," Luke said. "And fast. Am I right?"

Again, Chewie nodded.

Luke's eyes gleamed. "Han said there was rumored to be a medical facility in this asteroid field somewhere," he said. "Is that true?"

Chewie glanced at him sideways and shrugged.

"Well," said Luke, "let's hope there is—for Han's sake. Correct me if I'm wrong, but there isn't another inhabited planet for at least a day—is there?"

This time, Chewie shook his head.

Luke bit his lip and said, "And with a stomach wound like that, a day is going to make all the difference…" He looked at Chewie. "Well," he said, "I guess it's time to pray for a miracle."

Chewie hesitated, then reached onto the console and pulled a notepad down from the top. He fished for a stylus, then scribbled for a moment, letting the Falcon stall, then handed it to Luke and pushed the ship's nose forward.

Or, Luke read, you learn to trust in the Force.

Luke shook his head. "I can't," he said bluntly.

Chewie took the notepad from Luke's hands, wrote, and handed it back. Then Han dies.

Luke gnawed at his lip.

"Let him die," Leia said.

"I…I can't," Luke replied. "I can maybe help save him. I have to at least try."

"But—"

"What would you do, Leia?" Luke snapped. "Let someone die?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well I can't."

"Fine," said Leia. Then, "Just…be careful, Luke. You don't know where this path will take you, except darkness."

"I know," said Luke. "Just this once."

"I kept saying that too," Leia whispered. "And I kept failing."

"I won't fail," Luke promised.

"Okay," said Leia softly.

Luke opened his eyes. "Okay," he said, looking at Chewie. "Let's go find this medical facility."

notes: You know where they are, right? *eye emoji* Any guesses? Let me know!