Disclaimer
– All characters are property of Lucasfilm.
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?
Shooting Stars
Chapter Fifteen
The station had swarmed
into life around them, the nest of Imperial troops and officers disturbed by
the escape attempt. The halls hummed with the rasp of trooper feet on decking, echoing through the
metallic maze that led Biggs and Luke deeper into the heart of the station,
towards her detention centre. Biggs clutched the rifle in his hand like it
could protect him from a thousand legions of loyal Imperials, Luke bouncing on the
balls of his feet with each step, propelled forward by an uneasy alliance of
terror and bravado.
Biggs had seen that
countenance on his slighter friend before, in the depths of a heat-ridden
desert at noon before stepping out onto the wastes to engine fumes and the hard stone walls
of Beggars Canyon. Only this time, it was different. Like a red-tinted screen had descended between them, Luke
held himself aloof, barely throwing a glance towards Biggs, fingers dancing
over the trigger of his blaster. Luke had the step of a man going to his execution with dignity
and the trigger-happy fingers of an impatient suicide victim. It was an incongruous combination that left
the air between them sour with the silence that descended.
In the turbolift, feet
tapping on the black floor, Biggs finally broke the silence. "Luke-"
His composure abruptly
shattered. "I know!" Luke hissed sharply, "I know this is
stupid. Let's just get on with it."
He didn't know what to say.
The words were edged with something Biggs rarely heard from his friend and it
unnerved him beyond speech. His tone was black, hard... felt almost poisoned. He frowned but
the 'lift stumbled to a stop. The doors opened with a smooth swoosh but he was
still facing blank metal.
"Sith." He
muttered, turning on his heel and feeling like a green cadet again. The doors
just would open behind them. Beyond, red light filtered into the open doors from the detention
block, an officer on duty watching them with raised eyebrows and flanked by troopers.
Stepping past fear and
cursing his friend's stubborn insistence that they come down here, he gestured
lazily with the rifle. "We're here to take the Princess to the execution
station." Biggs said. The taller of the two, his voice also had more
authority, and more training.
He glanced sideways at
Luke. He was tense and nervous but hiding it pretty well, all things considered
when dear old Dad was chasing them down. The helmet turned fractionally towards him as the
black-dressed Imperial narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He held his breath between lips rapidly
draining of blood.
"Very well, proceed.
Cell 1138. And hurry it up, we're on alert here."
"Yessir." Biggs
said in his best cadet voice. Luke was practically hopping from foot to foot in
agitation and Biggs made a mental note to teach the kid about subterfuge. Tension clogged
the tight confines of the detention station, but it was nothing compared to the strain in Luke's step as they walked
forward.
Biggs was still trying to
put a time to when Luke had started acting strange when the officer gave them a
contemptuous sneer and turned aside. They strode abreast and with an Imperial swagger down the
red-lit hexagonal corridor, Luke still nervous.
"Calm down Luke,
you'll give us away."
The white helmet turned to
him, "He's coming." Luke whispered nervously, voice containing all
the agitation of the whole, swarming station in a single word. And there was fear,
desperation... longing? Everything about Luke was an amalgamation of disparate emotions and Biggs wasn't surprised
to hear the rasp of unshed tears in his voice. He sounded so confused, playing
in the backlash of emotions he didn't seem capable of moulding into a coherent
whole. Biggs found himself staring sadly at the smaller boy as he punched the cell door open.
Then it hit him. Just how
did Luke know Vader was on the way? It was a logical assumption but... there
was more conviction than guesswork in his voice.
He followed Luke into the
cell and his breath caught in his throat. Sleeping, tears drying in little
hutt-trails on her cheeks, was possibly one of the most stunning girls he'd ever seen. She blinked open
eyes rimmed with a child's crayoned outline of red, her gaze narrowing as Luke approached
quickly.
She stopped him with a
quick rebut, "Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?"
That stopped him. Luke
skidded to a halt and like a storm wind pushing flotsam over the dunes the
tension bled away. A look of confusion from the girl on the pallet and he dropped the fear like a
dirty cloak and shook his head, "Princess...? Oh!" He whipped the helmet of his head, showing mused
blonde hair and a big, soppy grin. "Very funny. It's me-"
"Luke!"
She rushed to her feet and
enclosed him in a warm hug. She was grinning and it was breathtaking. It was
all Biggs could do not to stand there gaping at the two. Luke had gone from agitated, unnerving
and plainly upset to relieved, confident and happy in the time it took for the princess to offer him
one Royal grin.
He interrupted with a quiet
cough. "I hate to interrupt this happy reunion, but we have to get out of
here before Vader turns up."
The Princess was all guile
and steel-tipped determination. "And who are you?" Addressing Biggs,
her voice was haughty. She was spilling a well of relief down her cheeks but she still managed to look
determinate.
Luke stepped back from her,
"This is Biggs Darklighter, my friend. I kind of... found him with your
droids-"
"You've found the
droids!! Do they still have the plans?" Her eyes were bursting with hope.
"Yes and-"
"Where are they?"
She rushed forwards, knocking Biggs to the side as if looking for them, as if
he were somehow hiding them behind his back.
"Waiting for us in the
docking bay. But-"
"What about General
Kenobi? Was he with them?"
The room couldn't have
cooled quicker if the Imperials had installed a cryogenics unit next door.
Biggs felt his eyes go hard at that, and Luke's face was set in grim contempt. He took back
that cloak of fear and agitation, turned it into anger whilst his eyes had the
set of a loaded
gun. "No." The word was laced with a depth of feelings Biggs fully
understood, and he stepped forward to try and.... what? Offer comfort? They didn't exactly
have time for soft words and alcohol. He froze mid-motion, paralysed between
his friends' memories and their need for escape.
Finally, Luke grabbed her
arm and pulled her towards the exit. Stepping through the cell door, it felt
like something was tearing, and he wasn't sure it wasn't his fragile control of the situation. When Luke
spoke, it was with a tone he'd never heard before, and never wanted to again. His eyes were like
hard ringlets of ice, devoid of colour. "He's here somewhere, but don't
ask me where. If he's rotting somewhere in the cells, good."
The vicious tone seemed to
shock her into obedience, and merciful silence.
"Come on, we have to
move. We're 'escorting' you to your execution." Biggs said, tone sarcastic
but kindly, a counterpoint to his friend.
She shook Luke off her arm
with a determined fierceness and a dignified lift of her chin. "We have to
get him out, too." She hissed, then planted her arms on her hips, a little fireball
of determination, "I'm not leaving without him."
"Princess-"
"No."
Biggs sighed, stared at the
ceiling and let out his frustration in a sigh. They didn't have time for this!
"Let's just get moving, we can discuss it along the way." Seeing the
stubborn Princess's intent to discuss it right here, right now, he added,
"Afteral, it'll all be mute if Vader gets here before you finish arguing."
That at least got her
attention, her eyes widening further, if it was possible. Luke shuddered as he
grabbed her arm and hauled her along the grated corridor with probably more grip than was
needed. Biggs worried his bottom lip between his teeth, every instinct he owned screaming that there was something
wrong with his friend. He was acting scared, angry, frustrated, obstinate, hard
like...
Like...
"... Vader?"
"What?" he
hissed, sucking in shock.
"I said," Leia
repeated, tone nipping at his shattered nerves, "How did you escape
Vader?"
"Long story." He
mumbled.
She let him haul her down
the corridor with one hand as Luke replaced his helmet with the other and shut
the door behind them with solid thunk. They strode down the corridor, Biggs capturing her other
hand so she was sandwiched between them. It looked like they were dragging a defiant prisoner. It
would protect her if they got caught.
The princess easily managed
a defiant air, looking very much like she wanted one of their blasters for
herself. Biggs pushed down the need to sigh again in frustration. She was gorgeous, but she was a
nightmare too. He could see why Luke liked her.
He wasn't about to give her
his blaster though. She didn't have a weapon, but maybe if they got caught she
could talk them to death.
They were passing through
the control area, steadfastly looking straight ahead, when Luke stiffened
suddenly. He dropped the Princess' hand and tightened his grip on the rifle. Then, Biggs glaring
at him for making them look suspicious, he whirled and shot the officer in
charge clean through the temple. The blaster gouged a whole through the stunned
Imperial and let the smell of burnt flesh fill the air.
All the troopers pulled
their weapon on the trio.
"Luke!" The
Princess called angrily, grabbing the blaster from the hands of a nearby
trooper and whirling on the Imperials. Biggs was also moving, cursing loudly and
colourfully at his best friend as they dove for cover behind the console. He
shoved him in the side to get him down on the deck before a blaster shot sizzled by his ear and
exploded with a loud thwack in the durasteel wall.
Luke rolled back up and the
rifle began answering the attack, Biggs quickly following suit.
Leia was skewering several of the troopers with her reply shots, but was
nowhere near as good as Luke. She was sharp, each shot hitting it's mark, but
Luke's speed left him gaping like an idiot, glad the trooper mask covered his
face and the incredulity. Sure, he'd been a hotshot on Tatooine but... this was
something else entirely. Biggs could only stare at his friend's accuracy, and
an eerie feeling trickled down his back – Luke was, after all, Vader's son...
"Luke, what in hell were you thinking?" Leia shouted, voice
raging hot.
He whipped around and shot
her a defiant gaze, blocked by the helmet. "They already knew."
"What?"
"I felt it!" He
shouted. A trooper barrelled over the console and Luke shot him twice cleanly
in the chest, making him collapse to the ground with a sickening thud. Biggs winced.
"They were going to shoot us in the back!"
"Sithspit Luke, you
couldn't know that!" Biggs called, but he wasn't so sure anymore. Vader's
son...
A final scream and the
last Imperial fell to the deck. The room was eerily quiet, the booming in his
ears only an echo of the firefight as the blood hit his temples. They had decimated the
troopers. Biggs stuck his head over the console warily but no fire came. Not bad for three amateurs.
"Luke, find where
they're keeping Kenobi!" Leia called, scrambling to collect more firepower
from the dead fingers of a trooper. Her face pinched in disgust as she freed the death-grip
on the weapon and shot Luke an impatient look. "Now!"
The voice of command. Luke
faltered but stood and edged over to the console.
The room stank of ozone and
charred flesh and sweat, even through the trooper helmet filtering system. He
wouldn't be surprised if the uniform deliberately allowed those smells through to the wearer;
it'd be typical Imperial style to give it's troopers that buzz from a firefight. He wrinkled his nose in
disgust.
"It's this
level!" Luke said, although he didn't sound ecstatic. More... bitter. With
every new emotion he showed, Biggs became more concerned for his friend. The
tenuous grip he had on his emotions was loosening rapidly, unravelling.
"I'll go get him, you stay here."
He didn't wait for a reply
before jogging down the raised walkway again, footsteps echoing back to them.
Whatever was bothering Luke, they didn't have time to sort it out now.
Stay here, and do what?
Biggs wished he hadn't
asked when the comm light started blinking.
* * * *
Luke was propelling himself
forwards down the hallway in the grip of turbulent emotions that he was
struggling to explain. The strange peace he had felt towards Vader when they had first
met in his quarters had been poisoned, his control over his emotions despite being unable to control his
surroundings was shattered. He felt angry, which scared him. When he felt fear,
he felt self-loathing for being so out of control. When he felt out of control, he needed to lash
out at the nearest available target.
Such as Biggs.
The fight from the corridor
hounded him, dragging at his heels and tightening his throat beyond the ability
to apologise. It scared him, but it seemed to give him a strange sense of power, a false feeling of
control that he almost welcomed. But it left him feeling... soiled.
He picked up pace and
sprinted for the cell. This was not something he was looking forward to,
especially not with emotions raging through him like this. He slammed a fist against the
lock and the cell opened, darkness beyond. Still, with the Force boiling
through his
veins, he didn't need light to know Kenobi was in there. His eyes scanned the
room as he stepped inside and spoke,
"Come on, we're
getting out of here."
He frowned at his own tone
of voice, rapidly beginning to feel like a spectator and not a participant in
this escape attempt. Someone stirred on the pallet and sat up abruptly in a rustle of cloaks. In the
dim lighting there was nothing but shadows and the reflection of pale eyes. "Come on, we don't
have much time." Luke hissed, looking over his shoulder nervously. Again,
anger gave him confidence.
Kenobi came to his feet
smoothly and looked at him in confusion, warily almost. "Indeed. And who
are you?"
Luke snapped his gaze up in
surprise, somehow expecting that the aging Jedi would have known instinctively.
Instead, the old man was regarding him with a cocked eyebrow and a stern expression. It
almost made him angrier, but that was illogical and foolish. The air tingled in
anticipation as he took the helmet off a second time. "Luke Skywalker.
And, despite my misgivings, I'm here to rescue you."
Nothing was said for a long
time. Too long almost, the sliver of red light from the hallway cutting across
his eyes until he blinked.
Then a smile cracked the
old man's lips and his eyes lit up, "Luke!"
"Glad you remember
me." Luke spat, not able to keep the anger out of his voice. There was
nothing new about that, but the helplessness increased. Tatooine farmboy Luke Skywalker would never have
snapped at this old man, no matter what he'd done. But he, he found himself in the grip of
loathing and he couldn't shake it.
He took a few heartbeats to
regard the old Jedi and then dug into the utility belt slung around his hips,
retrieving the saber from inside the uniform. "This is yours, I
believe." He said.
His hand trembled as he
held out the saber, memories of Tatooine back to haunt him, that hilt pressed
against his forehead, burning. His eyes flashed in indignation and Ben Kenobi reached out uncertainly.
"Luke... there is much
I need explain." Ben started, but Luke shook his head sadly, angrily.
"There's no time.
Vader is coming. We're getting out of here."
Wise eyes narrowed and seemed to stare straight through him. It was
unnerving, made him feel like crumbling and begging for help against emotions he couldn't
control. He replaced the helmet to hide from the Jedi and rushed up the steps
behind him, Kenobi's stare burning into his back like a laser sight finding its target. There
was the undeniable urge to squirm uncomfortably, and to feel ashamed.
Later. He would deal with
his emotions later. Right now, they needed to get out of here.
He was aware now that he
was as much running for the exit as he was running from the stern look in the
old Jedi's eyes. It wasn't hard to hold onto his anger at that man when he thought of Tatooine, but
it would be almost impossible if he had to look him in the eyes and acknowledge the deep regret
that was there, the sadness. And... the intense joy at seeing Luke again.
And... something else.
Horror, perhaps? No... it looked more like fear.
In front of them, the
white-clad, determinate figure of Princess Leia was pointing a finger and
shouting at Biggs, who was holding up his arms in mock surrender and giving a pleading look
up the hallway.
"Princess!" Luke called,
and Ben stopped suddenly.
Luke turned irritably and
pulled him along. "Come on! We have to move!"
He reached for his arm and
realised with horror and halfway through the move that Kenobi had no right arm.
Nausea threatened to empty his stomach and he reluctantly met the eyes of the taller man. Luke moved to turn away but
couldn't, eyes widening in fear.
"We need to have a talk, Luke. And soon."
* * * *
