AN: Can I thank my two wonderful beta readers Lyore and Elizabeth for volunteering. Their input has surely improved this chapter, thus any mistakes are mine alone. Some sentences belong to Lyore or are reworkings of her suggestions. Elizabeth - I'll watched those long sentences in future.

Previous disclaimers still apply.

Dark Times: Chapter Two

Pale Shelter

Part Nine

"Not so pretty down here on the ground, is it, flyboy?" Haslam shouted as he hauled Luke out of the dirt and rubble that had rained on them from the nearby explosion and sat him up during a lull in the bombing.

"Are you hurt?" the sergeant yelled, urgency clear in her voice above the din of the growing fight. There was a wave of fleeing bombers over head, a squad of Alliance X-Wings chasing them, the rattle of anti-aircraft fire. There were freighters lifting off, trying to escape with the precious cargo of personnel and supplies. There was the pop and crackle of flames and the cries of the injured and dying. "We don't have much time, there will be another wave of bombers and the transport won't wait, we need you on it!"

Winded, sore and rubbing grit from his eyes, Luke shook his head. "I'm fine," he assured her as they helped him to his feet. "Just get me to my Wing! I can help!"

"Never gonna happen!" she assured him tightly as she and Haslam supported him again. Luke was sure they were more concerned about keeping a hold of him and carrying out their orders than actually assisting him.

They staggered on toward the landing zone, taking cover and shelter with each passing sortie of Imperial bombers. It was becoming more difficult to travel through the growing pall of thick, black smoke that rose from the mounting number of bomb craters, damaged vehicles and burning bodies. It blackened the rain, stained their faces, stung their eyes and filled their lungs to create painful, hacking coughs. As they approached the landing zone, it became increasingly clear that the Imperial's targets were not the buildings. They were aiming for the open areas, the landing zones and the hangers, and Luke felt a pang of worry for Artoo Detoo who he had asked to wait for him. The Empire's attacked was planned to stop the Rebels from leaving the surface and he didn't like to think what this meant for the personnel on the planet, or what it meant for him.

"We will speak at length, young one..."

Vader wanted him alive.

He stumbled, fell to his knees into a puddle. Rough hands dragged him up once more. He was trembling, exhausted, sweat mingled with rain water to wash black soot from his face.

"Nearly there, Lieutenant-Commander," the sergeant assured him. They could hear the throb of the engines of the waiting frigate and through brief gaps in the billowing smoke they could snatch glimpses of their goal, and others running toward it, on the far side of the landing zone.

Luke felt a surge of relief at her words. He was looking forward to sinking down onto a soft bunk, to pain killers and sleep. Then the guilt hit, he had wanted to get to a fighter, had wanted to do something. This was his fault; the Empire had followed him here. People were dying because of him and all he could think of was a medical bed.

We will speak at length...

Luke squeezed his eyes shut at the echo of Vader's voice. Once on the frigate he would be safer, less likely to be captured. The med-evac ship would be only one of a dozen or more, the odds of being caught in the tractor beam of the Imperial ship would be in his favour. But others might not be so lucky.

"No," he dug his heels into the ground, stopping them. "I have to get to my squad."

"We've been through this," the sergeant argued with angry exasperation and more than a little consternation as she tried to pull him on. "We have our orders, sir!"

"Then I'm countermanding them!" he shot back, desperate.

She shared a glance with her subordinate, who smirked, and then turned to Luke. "Sir, you don't have that authority. Our orders came directly from General Rieekan and they still stand. If you won't accompany us willingly I'll have no choice but to place you under arrest." She glanced, reluctantly, at the dressings on his wrists knowing what had caused the injuries beneath them.

"I'm a pilot," Luke burst, furiously. "I belong in my ship, in the air, not running away when others are dying!"

"We're all running away, sir!" She shouted back. "That's the point of the evacuation. Haslam gimme your cuffs!"

"Now we're talking," the private beside Luke mumbled as he reached for a pair of binders.

Luke blanched in horror as Haslam approached him. "You can't!" he protested, staggering back from the soldier. They couldn't do this, they couldn't put him chains like the Imperials had done. His still healing ankle turned on the uneven ground, but his curse of pain was swallowed by the throb of the med-evac's engines deepening as the vessel, still several metres away, began to lift from the ground.

It drew all of their attention and, in that moment, the dynamics of the situation shifted for them all; their immediate futures now precarious and unclear.

"Shit!" Haslam swore in desperation as he watched the ship slowly rise into the air. "Shit!"

Luke stood frozen, staring after the ship. He caught a sudden movement out of the corner out of his eye, but didn't have time to react before Haslam's fist collided with his face. Unprepared for the attack, Luke was thrown backward, falling onto his tailbone. He cried out as a burst of pain surged up his back. Then he was putting his hands up to protect himself from the first kick from the Rebel soldier as Haslam bore down on him.

"Stop it, Haslam! Dammit, Haslam, get off him!"

The kicking stopped. Luke gasped in a heaving breath, coughed and spat blood into the dirt. He gingerly pushed himself up, grimacing and holding his aching ribs as old and new wounds protested at his movement. He wiped blood from his nose away with the back of his hand and glanced up as the two soldiers argued over him.

"That was our ride, too, Sarg!" the large soldier tore himself out of his sergeant's grip and gestured at the ship rapidly disappearing into the sky. "That little shit sold us out!"

"Enough!" she yelled back, "that little shit is an officer and..."

"..and he sold us out! He's kept us from our ride, our way off this rock!"

"You don't know what happened to him, what they did," she gestured to Luke still lying in the mud, "you don't know how you'd react if you had been in his place. You're behaving like one of them!"

Haslam kicked at the dirt. "I wouldn't have squealed, I would've died before selling out my guys and now we're stuck here, because of him!"

Luke heaved in another breath, coughed as the acrid smoke caught the back of his throat and looked up sensing that something was suddenly different. It was quiet. There was still the crackling of flames, still shouts and cries from fleeing Rebels, still sporadic explosions from downed bombers and damaged vessels that had been caught on the ground, but something was missing.

"Sergeant," he said, softly. "Listen."

He was ignored as they argued.

"Sergeant!" He called, sharper. "You need to listen!"

Haslam turned on him. "We don't need to..."

The non-com placed her hand on her companion's arm. "Haslam, stop. He's right."

The bombing of the base had stopped and that could only mean one thing. Luke struggled to his knees, adrenalin kicking in to override much of his pain. The sergeant bent down to help him up.

"They're sending in troopers," she confirmed what Luke already knew, as Haslam drew his side arm, already on the look out for the white armour of Imperial Stormtroopers, "they want prisoners."

"We will speak at length..."

"Please," he gasped, knowing that there was only one prisoner the Empire wanted. The thought beat frantically within him...

...me, they want me. He wants me...

... "get me to the fighter hanger."

Haslam turned on him again. "Save your ass, but forget about us? We're the expendable ones, right? We're the ones who buy time for the higher ranks to cut and run! This isn't about you!"

…but it is… he's coming for me…

The big soldier continued, "We oughta cuff you and leave you here for them!"

The Sergeant shoved him back, stepped between Haslam and Luke. "That's not us! We don't leave our own! We're infantry, we chose this, remember? It's what we do, it's how we fight!"

The soldier looked chastened. "Thecla, I... " He to gestured the other side of the compound. "There are other evac ships, if we can…"

She looked over in the directions of the other landing zones and shook her head. "We'd never make it. The hangers are closer. We can't carry out the General's orders now, but we can get the Lieutenant-Commander to his fighter and at least one of us can get out of here," she glanced in the direction of the hangers as Haslam paled and fell silent. "If either are still there," she added before turning to Luke and pulling her side arm from its holster. She thumbed the safety off as she offered him her other arm for support. "You'd better be worth it!" she warned.

As he took the sergeant's arm Luke remembered Isla, the housekeeper on Escaal, who had detonated the bomb that covered his flight and killed her. "You'd better be worth the trouble, Luke."

Luke still didn't know if he was.

ooOOoo

Another Rebel ship came into view of the Executors main view port, trailed by an X-Wing escort. Vader smiled beneath his mask as he recognised the markings as a med-evac vessel. He closed his eyes and gathered the Force around him, probing the ship as a squadron of TIE fighters moved into intercept. His son was not on board, his son was...

...they want me... he wants me...

... still on the planet below. Still running for his life and scared. Still injured and ignorant of the power he could wield. And so angry, so afraid, full of so much pent up frustration that the Force seemed to vibrate from his presence.

Use these feelings, my son, they give you strength.

"Mi'Lord," Ozzel stood at the Dark Lord's back waiting to give his update on the unfolding battle.

"Yes, Admiral?"

"The troops are approaching the Rebel's encampment. We have recalled the bombers as ordered..." He paused, trailed off and plunged ahead, his voice holding a minute tremble. "Five rebel ships have managed to escape into hyper space and..."

"They are not important, Admiral. Skywalker is still on the planet and it is he that we are here for." He abruptly turned around causing Ozzel to step back a pace. "Have my shuttle ready I wish to be present when he is apprehended."

Ozzel bowed as Vader swept past. "As you wish, Mi'Lord."

ooOOoo

The hanger was in flames. The intense heat snatched the oxygen from Luke's lungs, tearing his last shreds of hope with it. If Artoo had been here, had waited, then his little droid was gone, was burning along with any personnel and X-Wings still in the hanger as the bombs hit. He closed his eyes, briefly allowing grief for his friend to flare within. He hoped Wedge and the others had got out.

"Now, what?" Haslam asked the question that was on all of their minds. They were lying prone in a bomb crater, looking out over the edge at the burning building. They could hear sporadic gunfire and shouts of "fall back, fall back" coming from the perimeter of the base and knew that the outer defences were crumbling. Another Imperial landing craft flew low over head, but there was no following fire from the Rebel anti-aircraft guns; they had fallen silent a while ago, the crews either wiped out by the very ships they were trying to shoot down, or evacuated on the last of the freighters.

"We can't stay here," the sergeant said, "They'll be in the base in minutes."

"And go where?"

"We hide, lay low, wait for our chance to work past them into the woods and make a break for it."

"They have troopers, seekers, repulsor tanks, scout walkers, they'll turn each building inside out and burn it. There will be nowhere left to hide…"

"Then we fight," she countered. "There will be others trapped like us. We can…"

Luke rolled onto his back, ignoring the two soldiers as they frantically discussed their lack of options. He gazed up at the sky, watching the smoke from the base billowing up to meet the glowing light of Ra'imar's dawn. He knew there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. Within a few minutes, their position would be over-run and they – he - would be taken. He struggled to suppress his panic. He couldn't be captured again, couldn't be subjected to a tiny cell and more questions, more…

"We have more than one droid.."

He closed his eyes against the rush of memories, against the terror they evoked for him. The memory of waking to find Vader holding his chin, of the black mask mere centimetres from his face, of the taunts and of his permission to Dade to continue his torture before cutting him down. Of giving respite only to promise a future of further torment…

"We will speak at length, young one."

He couldn't be captured, had no wish to go through it all again. But he would. Haslam had been wrong. This was all about him. He knew that Vader had followed him here, knew that Vader was coming for him, he knew it was because of who his father had been, of what he had achieved above Yavin. He knew because he could feel it, that growing sense of anxiety and understanding that the Force had gifted him.

It was all about him. But it didn't need to be about anyone else. There had been too many deaths recently to save him; Isla, Taln, the nameless doctor and countless other innocents on Escaal who had paid with their lives for the Alliance attack and his subsequent escape.

No-one else.

"Haslam's right," he said quietly, interrupting the two soldiers. He opened his eyes and looked at the big infantryman. "There is nowhere to go, no hiding place that they won't look, while they have something to look for."

"What are you talking about?" the sergeant wanted to know, she was dirty, dishevelled, looked scared.

Luke glanced up as a small lambda class shuttle cut a path through the smoke and the clouds. "Me," he told her. "Haslam has been right all along. I can buy you both time to get away. If they are focused on me you might be able to slip through their lines."

"No! We don't leave our own!" she protested. She glanced at Haslam for support but the big man looked away, unable to meet her eyes, and watched the road ahead for the approaching army.

"I'm not fit!" Luke yelled, trying to convince her. He held his weakened hands up to her. "I couldn't hold a blaster for any length of time. I'd slow you both down and you know it. But it's me Vader wants. You know who I am, you know I'm force sensitive and…"

"… and I know what the Sith does to Jedi," she finished for him.

"They do the same to any Rebel!" he reminded her. It was a fate they would all share if he didn't give them this chance.

"Let him do it, Thecla!" Haslam urged. "If he wants to do it, then let them have him back!" They could hear engines now as the Imperial army marched closer on their position. "We should move back, secure better cover!" He was shouting over the top of the growing clamour approaching them, becoming more desperate. "We need to go now!"

"Go!" Luke told her. He could see her indecision. She was terrified, she wanted to run, but she wanted to be the good soldier and not leave him. "I know what I'm doing." He saw regret flicker briefly in her eyes.

"Here," she said quietly. Luke could barely hear her over the approaching armour. "Take my pistol!" She held out her gun.

He smiled. "I won't need it."

Luke watched as Haslam grabbed his sergeant's arm, dragged her around the corner of the nearest building. Luke hoped that as soon as they were out of sight they would be running full sprint. He heaved in a breath, shoved away his own urge to run and pushed himself to his unsteady feet. Holding his freshly bruised ribs he started to limp toward the only roadway out of the base. Towards the advancing Imperials.

ooOOoo

TBC...