An AU story, at the time of ANH - what would have happened if Biggs hadn't
jumped ship and had mouthed off at the wrong moment about Luke's piloting
skills?
This has taken a while, I know. I hope it's worth the wait.
Mina
The blue glare coming from the little-used doorway was stinging his eyes, but
it was nothing next to the fireworks that were going off inside his head. Emotions
came rough and turbulent, tumbling over each other like a pack of Tatooine
farmboys brawling in the summer heat. You couldn't dissect one from the other,
relief from wonder or dread from absolute, mind-numbing hope. All of it bounced
around his sleep-muffled head as he struggled to make his brain start
functioning properly and dismiss the shadowy figure in the backlit entrance as
an illusion.
Biggs sat bolt upright and shaded his complaining eyes, focusing on the figure
at the top of his small cell's stairs and waiting for it to dissolve into a
cruel dream. But when he rubbed his eyes there was still no dark, imposing
figure of Darth Vader at the top; and that soft voice was not the menacing,
rumbling tones of Darth Vader. Instead, all he saw was the slight, nervous,
astonished figure of Luke Skywalker. The lithe silhouette stood very still,
fingers tightening a death-grip on the lightsaber. The blue light of a lit
saber explained the brilliant pain from his eyes after too many days in the
dark, forgotten anteroom, but even that pain sank beneath the realisation that
the figure standing rigid in shock was, in fact, real.
"Luke?" He leapt to his feet as Luke flew down the remaining steps
and bowled him over in a fast embrace. He extinguished the saber just in time
to stop from skewering them both, an eager smile spreading across his face.
"Where did you come from?!?"
"I thought you were dead!"
Both boys rushed the words out together and both stopped suddenly and just
grinned. It was hard to see in the sudden darkness, but Biggs ran a critical
eye over his friend who he'd last seen being bundled into a med room. There had
been blood, shouting, medics rushing around and then…. and then nothing but
being stuck in a dark room, seemingly forgotten, unresponsive troopers not even
telling him whether the young Tatooine kid they'd brought off-planet had
lived... Looking at Luke now whilst not holding a gauze to an aching tear in
his side, his friend was a bit pale, a bit tired, but his grin eclipsed it all.
And besides, he was alive. Right now, that was all that could ever matter.
Luke deftly twirled the saber on his fingers before he snagged it onto his belt
in the dark, an action Biggs could not begin to explain, and kept on grinning,
smile wider than the Dune Sea. "Stars, Luke! It's good to see you!"
He rushed to his friend again and ruffled his hair, eliciting a sharp rebuke
from the younger boy that made him grin again.
"What happened?! They told me you were dead!" Luke said, eyes
sparkling even in the sparse light. Despite everything, he was still as
animated as ever.
"They what? Yeah, I guess he would." He shook his head ruefully,
still grinning at seeing the Tatooine farmboy in one, still sane piece.
Luke shook his head in a familiar expression of confusion, "Why?"
There was an old pain in those young eyes and Biggs realised that his judgement
that Luke was unchanged was premature.
"Vader wanted you pretty badly. I guess he explained my absence by saying
I was dead."
"They told us you were executed for treason." Luke shook his head
fiercely, "What happened?"
What happened? Biggs shrugged, memories shifting up like bones revealed
by a sandstorm. Nothing, nothing, would make him recount to Luke exactly
what had been done to get the answers out of him. From the aching pain in those
blue eyes that normally held the sky, he knew enough not to add to Luke's
pain.
"Listen Luke, I'm sorry." Luke looked up suddenly, the smile
vanishing, but Biggs cut him off. "Hear me out. It's my fault that
you're in this mess in the first place. If I hadn't mouthed off about what a
great pilot you are, Vader would never have heard about you. I tried to keep
the information from him but... well." He shifted uncomfortably from foot
to foot, avoiding the sad blue eyes of his best friend. His feet felt like he
was balancing on those shifting dunes. "Vader can be pretty
persuasive." That was as far as he would ever go.
Luke just nodded, jaw setting into a hard line like he truly understood what
Biggs was talking about. That single revelation made his stomach begin to
perform barrel rolls. He pushed on relentlessly, annoyed that he couldn't say
this part without closing his eyes. "And... well, I'm really sorry about
your father. I know it's got to smart that your Aunt and Uncle lied, but I
guess you can see why." His fingers dug welts in his palm, but Luke only
stiffened and nodded. He avoided Biggs' gaze, focusing on the saber and rolling
it in his hands, strangely melancholy. He looked lost, not quite bitter but not
quite accepting. The reactions seemed somehow… wrong. But, well, how were you
supposed to react when you find out you're supposed to call Lord Vader 'Dad'?
Biggs broke the tension with a clap on his shoulder and Luke jumped like a
stung Jawa, eliciting another grin from him. "We have to get out of
here."
Luke snapped blue eyes onto him, "I'm not staying here any longer than I
have to. But... how?" The fierce determination set his jaw.
Biggs smiled ruefully at his still-naive friend. He pointed at the saber in his
hands, "Well, that might help some."
Luke glanced down and his fingers tightened around the hilt almost painfully.
"Right."
"We have to take the droids, too." Biggs said. He began stretching
properly, working out the sleep from sluggish muscles. If they were going to
make a run for it, he'd better be awake. Luke gave him a quizzical look.
"They've got the plans to this station. If we can get them to the
Rebellion... they might be able to find a weakness and -"
"Let's take them."
Biggs stood stunned by the vehemence he heard there, something he wasn't used
to hearing from the farmboy. Calling Luke unchanged was definitely a premature
evaluation. "Luke, what is it-"
"Nothing."
He turned away, a sliver of light illuminating his profile, lips set in a thin
line, muscles in his neck tight to the point of breaking. Biggs swallowed,
hard, a month of misery worming its way into his voice, not quite making it to
his cheeks. "Luke?"
The boy trembled slightly. He lit the saber again, and Biggs stepped backwards
despite himself. Blue highlights jumped into his hair as Luke turned and shuck
the grim expression from his face like a dirty cloak. "It's… it's nothing. Just
that we have to get them to the Rebellion if they can destroy this
station and stop it from...." He swallowed a little to hard. "Those droids are
the Princess's aren't they?"
"Princess?"
"Leia." Luke strode for the immobile droid, metal capturing the blue
saberlight. He groped around the back of the protocol droid for the 'on'
switch.
"I don't know. That's the one thing they wouldn't talk about." A bit
like you? He added silently. What about the Princess, and why are you so
concerned about this station?
He frowned at the sad tone there, edging closer to being bitter with every
sentence. What had happened?
Then Biggs grinned ruefully. Despite the fact that they were trapped in the
heart of an Imperial space station, things didn't seem nearly so bad now Luke
had turned up. "They talked." He confirmed. "A lot. Especially the golden
one. He tells a lot of stories, despite protesting he's no storyteller."
Luke frowned at him. "Is he?"
"Let's just say I shut them both off after a couple of hours."
Luke gave a brilliant smile that wiped away his troubled expression as the
droid came to life. They both set about gathering anything in the room they
could use to aid their escape, Biggs relegating Luke's oddly pensive, if brief,
mood to somewhere deep in his mind where it couldn't trouble him.
"How did you find me anyway?"
Luke grinned at his friend – his animate, perfectly alive friend – and opened
his mouth to answer but something tickled in the back of his mind. He frowned,
feeling the hairs on the back of his neck tingle in warning and stand to rigid
attention. It wasn't a feeling he could dissect, quantify and qualify, but he
knew not to ignore it. He placed a finger to his lips and shrank back against
the second door in the cell; the one that didn't lead back to Vader's quarters.
He felt something... like a sense of urgency and when Biggs gave him a confused
look, all he could do was shrug helplessly. He didn't have any clue what he
felt. It was like-
The door rushed open and Imperial authority strode into the room in the form of
two stormtroopers, one carrying a food tray; the other a blaster rifle. Right;
it must be dinnertime. The smell of over-cooked vegetables added a strangely
homely aura to the room as one trooper, the one with the tray, stood in bored
contriteness by the door. Biggs carefully avoided eye contact with Luke as he
backed away at the insistence of the trooper with the blaster rifle.
Luke held his breath and tried to merge with the durasteel of the wall,
listening intently to the click-click of trooper feet on the floor.
Every nerve in his body whispering that this was his chance, every muscle
screaming that he make his move, that he had to take it before Vader realised
something was wrong.
Vader. The man who had killed his father, imprisoned his friend,
tortured the princess, watched calmly as Alderaan died… manipulated,
controlled, and tried to own him…
He felt his fury begin to boil beyond the point of reason. There was urgency
there, like a bomb counting down and as the trooper passed by him, he slid the
hilt of the saber forward to his back, where the white armour gave way to black
material in the join. He found himself clenching his teeth in sympathy as the
saber lit, the point neatly skewing the blaster-holding trooper. The man gave a
gargled cry of surprise, jerking wildly in an agony Luke could almost taste. It
rippled through the Force in a parody of the cries of the dying Alderaani.
He was going to be sick. He was going to just curl up and scream with the
trooper. His hand trembled on the saber hilt as the dead trooper started to
slip to the deck, ripping in two as his body slid along the blade as easily as
a hot knife through butter. Luke gagged at the feelings that came through the
Force to him in a mental death scream.
Biggs dove for the other trooper, swiping the tray from his shocked hands and
ramming it into the exposed throat beneath the helmet. The crunch of breaking
bones was audible; the scream wasn't. Luke slid the saber out of the dead
trooper before he fell down the blade completely. Stormtrooper armour was,
after all, the perfect disguise if they could get it intact.
Biggs was looking at him wide-eyed and he realised he was shaking, reeling from
the after effects of the death. Biggs started for him, but Luke shook his head.
"I'm all right."
He didn't look convinced, but he bent down and ripped the helmet off his downed
trooper and delivered a quick kick to his temple, sending the surprised,
gagging man into unconsciousness.
Luke forcibly made his muscles relax and forget what he'd felt. Was there some
way to block that out? Vader had taught him how to touch the Force, but hadn't
told him anything about blocking it out. Maybe you couldn't. He grimaced and
looked down with a shadow feeling of sickness at the corpse and spilled
vegetables, but there was little time for regret. Biggs gripped his arm
urgently. "Snap out of it, Luke. We have to get going." He urged and
Luke shrugged the misgivings off. He would just not touch the Force, that was
all. There was nothing else he could do.
Biggs tossed him the stripped armour and Luke slid it over his plain black,
only pausing a little at the helmet. He wasn't claustrophobic but the idea of
being unable to use his own eyes and ears unnerved him. And besides, it smelt
of a man who was now nothing more than a corpse.
Snap out of it! He snarled to himself, They're only Imperials.
Remember Alderaan.
Surprisingly, the anger he felt rising up within him helped. A little,
anyway, but it was enough.
Biggs snagged the forgotten blaster off the floor as Luke hid both sabers in
the utility belt.
He stopped when he felt cold brush against his skin. Something even more urgent
than his last feeling began to eat away at his nerves, something…. "Come
on." He said, the tension clear in his voice.
Biggs didn't argue. They strode with an Imperial swagger from the cell, two
stunned droids following and locking it behind them.
"Master Luke, sir!"
Luke looked over his shoulder at the floundering droid, "Come on Threepio,
move it." He hissed, urgency still eating at him. They were running out of
time, he could feel it.
Threepio waddled forward as fast as he could, hands waving wildly. Two
stormtroopers with two droids were not so unusual wandering down the Death Star
corridors, but somehow Threepio still managed to attract attention, if only
through his fusing. Artoo beeped furiously and sped to keep up.
"Master Luke! Artoo says this is not the quickest way to the hanger."
Threepio helpfully informed him.
Biggs stopped and turned to him, "What? Luke, I thought you said you knew
the way!" He waved the stolen blaster rifle in the air.
Luke winced, feeling the need to strangle Threepio. "I do. Sort of. But we
have to go through the detention level first."
"What?!" Biggs snapped in a hard whisper. He leaned in close and Luke
tried to stare through those dark eye sockets at his best friend.
"We have to get the Princess out! They're her droids, we have to take her
with us." He hissed. He clenched then unclenched his fingers as
frustration wound it's way through his senses. Troopers passed them by, but not
without a few curious stares.
Biggs pointed an armoured finger at him. "No! We don't have time. Vader
could be on our trail right now, and you want to go gallivanting after some
Princess! Come on!" He turned to the golden droid, "Threepio, what is
the quickest route-"
Luke stepped forwards, emotions hitting boiling point. "She's going to be
executed! I'm not leaving her!"
He was shouting and Biggs made a 'quiet down' gesture. "Shssh! The whole
station will hear you!" Frustration was gradually being replaced by anger.
Why couldn't Biggs see that they had to get Leia out too?
"Then shut up and follow me!" His voice had the iron-tipped edge of anger, and
he saw Biggs take an involuntary step backwards. Luke watched, blood and fever
pumping through his veins, control slipping rapidly. It scared him, in some
ways, but it was intoxicating. "You never did listen to me, did you?
Always thought I was just some stupid callow kid who couldn't possibly
know better than the great Biggs Darklighter."
"Luke, this isn't the right place for-"
"Shut up! Just shut up!" All control left him. He felt his palm itch for the
saber in his belt, a dark veil falling over his eyes and he nearly, nearly took
it, lit it and-
Horrified, he just gaped at what he was about to do, like a spectator with no
control on the situation at all. Biggs grabbed his hand before it reached his
belt and shook him, hard. It was all he could do not to strike out, lash out
with all that energy pouring into him. A flick of his finger and he felt he
could-
Stop it! This is your best friend!
"What the hell has gotten into you?!"
"I… I don't know!" He was almost as horrified to hear anguish there. Biggs
stopped shaking him. He couldn't see though the white mask, but all his senses
told him Biggs was looking at him with a mixture of horror and concern. "You
have to help me!" He didn't even know what exactly he was pleading for,
and maybe that was for the best.
"Shssh!" He hissed. Troopers had gathered around them.
Luke forced himself to calm down but the power, that exhilarating feeling that
if he just flicked his hand out he could… "Okay, okay, I'm quiet! See how
quiet I can be?" He whispered too loudly. He knew that beneath the mask
Biggs was narrowing his eyes. "I'm not leaving her."
Biggs gave an exasperated sigh.
"If I may say so, Master Luke-"
"Shut up Threepio." Biggs hissed. His hand was still wrapped around
Luke's arm, and Luke was almost glad for it, not knowing what he might do if he
was free to strike out.
"But-"
"Shut up, Threepio!" They both turned on the droid, then looked back
at each other.
"I'm not leaving her." Luke repeated. His aggression was rapidly
rising past the all boundaries of common sense. He stared at his friend,
willing him to give in before either them did something stupid. Come on
Biggs, let me win this one.
Biggs relented suddenly and stood still as if in shock, dropping Luke's arm
like it burned him. Then he threw his hands up in the air disgustedly,
"Fine! But you better be right about this, Luke."
"I am. We can't leave her." With his hand free and after winning the argument,
the anger and aggression was draining away to leave something cold and sickly,
making him want to shiver. He was so cold.
"Master Luke-"
Both men glowered at the droid but it couldn't be seen through their masks so
Threepio took their silence for interest and continued, "Artoo says the
station has been put on alert."
"What?" Luke asked, suddenly concerned. All dark feelings fled in the
face of a serious problem. But it was still so cold. "Why?"
"Lord Vader appears to be searching for two escaped prisoners." The
droid fussed, hopping nervously from foot to foot. "If I might say so sir,
I think we're in trouble."
"Oh, Sith-spit." Luke cursed, then looked back at his friend. He
seemed to have recovered from the argument and was looking around nervously at
the dispersing crowd of onlookers. He viciously quashed the remnants of his
anger and concentrated on getting away. "Biggs, you think it'd be unseemly
for two stormtroopers to start running?"
Mina.