"I don't like this." Luke Skywalker looked over at his companion, a Corellian smuggler turned occasional and very reluctant hero for the Rebellion against Palpatine's Empire, and shifted his legs. It was difficult to find a comfortable position. The two men lay flat on their stomachs on top of a three-story building, their macrobinoculars trained on the low building opposite and the surrounding dirt streets below. The hard, overlapping roof tiles dug into Luke's skin despite the padded flight suit he wore. But this was the tallest building in the small village of Woolvertown, the smuggling outpost for the planet Diswalt, and thus offered them the best vantage point. "Leia should have finished her negotiations for supplies with the local representatives by now. We need to get back to the Falcon or we'll miss the transmission with our next rendezvous coordinates."

"Relax," Han Solo said. "Leia knows what she's doing." But Luke heard the, "I hope," muttered under Han's breath. "Besides, we left Goldenrod on the ship. He'll handle the transmission if we miss it."

"If you say so," Luke said, but he was far from convinced. If only they had an astromech droid who could talk to the Falcon and ensure the coordinates were correct. But the R5 unit who flew with him in the battle of the Death Star didn't survive the direct blast it took from a TIE fighter, and Luke didn't feel like bonding with any of the astromechs who succeeded Arfive's place in his X-Wing. "I still don't like it."

Han took the macrobinoculars away from his eyes and turned his head to look at Luke. "You're not getting one of those spooky feelings of yours, are you?"

"No," Luke answered. "In fact, I'm not getting much of anything." It was true. Try as hard as he might, he was picking up very little in the Force. He could sense Han next to him, Han's thoughts a roiling mixture of anticipation and impatience, tinged with concern for Leia. And he could sense various natives going about their business in the nearby town square. The Diswaltis were an abnormally cheerful species, known throughout the galaxy for their large, round eyes and ever-present smiles. But every time Luke tried to reach out further, it was almost as if he met some sort of invisible barrier.

He sighed. He still had so much to learn about the Force. And now, there was no one left to teach him. When he returned to Dagobah after successfully rescuing Han and Leia from Bespin, it was to find Yoda's dwelling ripped apart, his gimer stick broken into barely recognizable shards. Any evidence of the Jedi Master's presence had long faded. Despair clutched at Luke when he recalled Bespin had merely been a ruse to lure him into revealing Yoda's location. The Emperor's Beasts had hacked into the X-Wing nav computer Luke thought had been carefully erased and traced his journey backward until they found the Jedi Master's hiding place.

Luke and his friends easily escaped once the Beasts got what they wanted. Even so, he knew he still breathed only because the Emperor was obsessed with ensuring that all Old Republic Jedi were erased from the galaxy. A half-trained fledging with no Master to guide him wasn't a priority.

But with Yoda finally located and destroyed, that would change. That was the one thing Luke could feel. The Emperor's Beasts were about to be unleashed on him.

The Rebellion needed to win this war, and fast.

Han shrugged. "Hey, you said you wanted more than your provincial life on Tatooine. Welcome to it. Waiting on a rooftop, getting duracrete dust all over your clothes."

"Did you just say 'provincial?" Luke stared at Han. Leia must really be rubbing off on him. Or at least on his vocabulary.

"Provincial. You know, middle of nowhere, backwater, armpit of the galaxy…." Han obviously had mistaken Luke's surprise for a lack of comprehension.

"Oh, right, armpit. I didn't know that was the technical term for planets where you spend afternoons getting drunk in cantinas and shooting first."

"Smart," Han said, his tone indicating the opposite. "Hey, if you hadn't left Tatooine, what would you be doing now? Married to some farmer girl, I bet, having babies and sticking popsicles in their mouths when they cry."

Han's words conjured an image of Camie, boasting to everyone in Anchorhead how she was going to make Luke Skywalker her husband. Luke shuddered. "No," he said decisively. "I used to read all the adventure journals I could get my hands on. I knew there must be more to life than moisture farming."

"Well, you got it," Han muttered. "C'mon, Leia."

"I thought you said to relax?" Luke couldn't resist saying.

"You're not looking, Kid," Han growled. "To the left. By the open air market. Stormtroopers."

Luke slammed his pair of macrobinoculars against his eyes, increasing the magnification. Sure enough, very familiar white helmets were bobbing their way through the crowd. He shook his head. Why didn't he feel their approach? Was there something wrong with the Force? Or with him?

Han had his comlink out. "Chewie? We have company. And they're not the kind you invite to dinner. Get Her Worshipfulness out of there."

Through the comlink Luke could hear the Wookie's whispered roar of understanding. Leia had posed as a slave trader, with Chewbacca as her prize ware, in order to keep her meeting with the Diswalt representatives as secret as possible. The Diswaltis had plenty of money, thanks to several popular resorts known throughout the galaxy for their immersive yet family-friendly fun, but not even a planet full of child-based amusements would be immune from the Emperor's deadly wrath if he learned they were supporting the rebels. Leia was secreted behind a closed door with no communications devices allowed to avoid the Imperials from picking up any chatter, but Chewie had remained outside to guard the room. And to communicate on a tight relay with Han.

"Maybe it's just a routine patrol." Luke offered, but even as he spoke he knew he was wrong. The stormtroopers were marching in a straight line directly to the building that held Leia – and to the building across from it that supported Han and Luke.

"Yeah, and maybe I'll let you fly the Falcon," Han said. "The troopers are carrying something on their backs – can you tell what it is?"

"No, " Luke said. "It's some sort of frame, but I can't make out the details through the crowd."

"Han? We're leaving now," Leia's voice came from the comlink speaker.

"Don't talk, just get out," Han said tightly. Now they didn't need macrobinoculars to see empty black eyes in white expressionless faces, moving ever closer to them.

From his vantage point, Luke spotted a rear entrance in the building opposite opening. A petite female figure in space fatigues and a tall, shaggy Wookiee walked outside. "They're clear."

"Yeah, I see them," Han replied. "Okay. The bad guys are heading to the front of Leia's building. We'll go out the back of this building, circle around, meet the other two at the prearranged spot. Got it?"

"Of course," Luke said. There weren't many other choices of action. He checked to make sure his lightsaber was firmly attached to his belt, close at hand if – when - needed.

Han drew his blaster, held it ready. "Let's go."