Search and Rescue

The bay doors of the ship were blasted open. Sparks flew and smoke filled the room as several men in full body armor forced their way in, wielding blasters and shouting orders at the occupants of the ship. One of the intruders was not concealed by black and gray armor and marched in, his face visible to all the people being taken hostage. He made his way to the cockpit and glanced over the controls and tapped into the ship's comm link system to the lower decks.

"Open all cell doors, that is an order, and anyone who refuses to comply will be fried on sight," he ordered the occupants down below.

His portable comm link came alive with a half audible howl.

"We're in, Chewie, no sign of him yet. Top level's clear, we'll take the elevators down and start looking," Han Solo told his furry friend.

He regrouped with the armored men, the top deck of the ship was a mass of confusion, everybody on both sides screaming and talking over each other and one another, it was nearly impossible to keep track of what was going on as the members of the ship's crew were quickly subdued with stun blasters and put in binders.

"Find any of them yet?" Han asked.

"Negative."

"Alright, we'll head down to the next level and work our way from there."

Han was too hopped up on adrenaline to give a whole lot of thought to what it was they might be walking into. When they reached the lower level, and found themselves in a dimly lit room, his ears picked up on an array of echoing sounds. They turned on their portable lights and were met with dozens of eyes, staring, blinking, flinching.

"It's okay," Han told them as he inched his way in, "we're here to help. It's over."

Something he'd really never thought he'd be saying, to anybody. He was a smuggler, he didn't do rescue missions, he didn't get involved in stuff that didn't affect him...but this time it did affect him, that's why he'd joined the people who were overtaking the ship.

The overhead lights came on brighter and he and the other men were able to see them now. He wanted to puke. They were all young, some only 14, 15, boys, girls, some were normal build, some looked like they'd been starved for weeks. But none of them were the one he was looking for.

The people Han had come with walked through the dungeon single file and looked over every trafficked kid in the room. They were on the left, on the right, some where manacled to the walls, others just stood around in a daze. Most were mute, some choked and gasped, some made small animalistic grunts. They inched their way back from the men approaching them. Han swung his head one way and the other, looking in every cell, no, no, no, no.

Hold it.

He stopped so fast his boot squealed against the hard metal floor. There, in the last cell he passed. He stepped into the small cell and made his way past seven bony kids in tattered clothes.

There, behind them, half sitting on a metal cot in the corner of the cell.

"Luke."

The 20 year old farm boy didn't look at the smuggler, didn't say anything, didn't do anything to acknowledge Solo's presence. Han went over to him and got in front of Luke. His eyes were open and staring straight ahead at nothing, blood matted on his forehead in a large patch from a cut, the corner of one lip was split and had bled and dried and cracked and bled again several times over by the look of it.

"Kid, it's okay, we're gonna get you out of here," Han said, growing alarmed by the fact Luke wasn't responding in any way. "Kid? Luke?" He grabbed the kid's shoulder and shook it hard to get get his attention, and it didn't seem to be working.

"Luke? Luke?" Han absently took in a deep breath and belted it back out so his voice about boomed off the walls, "COMMANDER SKYWALKER, DO YOU READ ME?"

Nothing. The eyes staring blankly ahead never even blinked.

"Luke? Luke!" Han pressed his hand against Luke's neck, and let out an incoherent sound of relief when he felt a pulse. He raised his hand in front of the kid's nose and mouth, he could feel a breath, just barely.

"Luke? Luke!" Han tried smacking the kid across the face, hard, trying to get any reaction out of him, and again, and again, but the kid never even flinched.

Han had been so focused on finding Luke, and getting him out of there, he'd paid no attention to anything going on around him, and didn't until he heard a familiar wookiee howl filling the dungeon.

"Chewie, I found him, but something ain't right here," he called without turning his head.

Chewbacca was at his side in a moment, grunting inquiringly.

"I don't know, but I'm going to need you to help me move him," Han said, "we'll have to get him to the med bay and get him looked at." He glanced down to make sure the kid wasn't manacled to anything, he seemed to be sitting up of his own volition, frozen that way actually.

Chewbacca snarled as he lifted the 20 year old in his massive furry arms and they left the cell. Han looked around at the hundreds of terrified kids who were being herded out of the cells and towards the doors. It would take forever to sort all this out, but that wasn't his problem anymore, right now Han Solo could only care about the boy he'd come to get.

Just an hour ago they'd found the ship and were planning their attack. Everybody else suited up to move out, but Han decided as angry as he felt about what had happened to their friend, nobody would dare take a shot at him. He'd been so determined they were going to find the kid. He remembered Leia storming into his quarters as he got ready to leave.

They'd been searching for Luke for three weeks since he'd gone missing from a pilot bar on a little stopover moon, initially they had suspected and feared it was retaliation from the Empire for the destruction of the Death Star; but had during the ensuing weeks met up with a group of hunters who were looking for a slave ship trafficking in young kids who'd been snatched up from halfway across the galaxy, and suspected that their young commander had been kidnapped and sold for slave labor. The hunters were neutral to the Imperials and the Rebels, they were a group of men from all corners of the galaxy whose sole mission was to cripple the slave trade, they had targets and enemies on both sides. The Rebels had temporarily joined forces with the hunters to locate the slave ship and bring back their commander. The Rebel forces still had their own missions and Leia had to stay behind to assist with them, but she'd gone to see Han once they locked sites on the ship, as he was getting ready to move out. They were in such a hurry to find Luke, hopefully still alive, dreading what they might find but none daring to give voice to those thoughts, there had been no real time to talk. There had also been no real need either. He saw the look in the princess's eyes and he knew what she was thinking.

All she'd gotten out was a frantic, "Han-"

He'd filled in the rest. He put his hands on her shoulders for a brief second, wishing he had time to kiss her before he left, and told her assuredly, "I'm going to find him, Leia, I'll bring him back."

If anybody else had watched the scene unfold, they might mistake these two people for the boy's parents instead of his newfound friends. It might've even been touching if it hadn't been so excruciatingly terrifying.

They were bringing him back alright, but in what condition, that was anybody's guess.