Disclaimer: This story is not for profit. Star Wars and the accompanying universe are not mine, they are Lucas'. A fact I bemoan daily. Jenna is my idea. Please ask permission before using her. This disclaimer applies to any previous or future chapters.
Author's notes: Wow, reviews! I'm so jazzed. And before you ask, this is still the same story. I'm trying something odd here, so please bear with me as I try to pull it all together. As always, constructive criticism is welcomed, praise is desired, and evil flames will be ignored. For reference, this chapter takes place during the X-Wing series, a few months before The Courtship of Princess Leia.
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"Try 'er again, Chewie!" a voice echoed through the bowels of the dilapidated ship. An answering roar reverberated from the cockpit. Slowly, the engine noise built to a deafening crescendo, accompanied by a triumphant shout. A shout cut short as the engines abruptly shut down, clanking and hissing. The overhead lights flickered and dimmed as the captain of this tattered ship cursed his engines soundly and imaginatively. The Millennium Falcon, symbol of the Rebellion and personal craft of one General Han Solo, hung listlessly in space.
A tow-headed man dressed in black slumped into the captain's chair in the cockpit. Idly he watched Chewbacca pull apart the circuit board above his head.
"Need any help there, Chewie?" Luke Skywalker asked, brushing sandy-blond hair off his face. The ginger-furred Wookie looked down at the young Jedi, shook his head firmly, then returned to his work, muttering under his breath about certain starship captains who couldn't be bothered to run thorough system's checks on a regular basis. Seeing that he was serving only as a distraction, Luke meandered out of the cockpit and into the forward hold. A small, rotund droid hummed to itself happily in the corner as it ran system checks on the ship's systems that were still functioning. He trilled shrilly at the passing knight.
"No Artoo, I don't think Han would want you to erase his holochess scores. Chewie might appreciate it though." Luke grinned. Laughing to himself over what he imagined Han's response would be, he slipped through the doors at the other end of the room, heading towards the engine compartment.
"Why did I come on this trip?" Luke asked himself as he negotiated the narrow passageways. He knew the excuses he had made. Han had invited him along on a little side trip to distract him from an increasingly frustrating search for the history of the lost Jedi Order. Luke had seen and felt the worry in his friend. To be honest, Luke was worried as well. With minimal training and no solid background in tradition, he had a colossal task before him in rebuilding the order. If his first mentor, the ancient Obi-Wan Kenobi, had failed to train even one knight, even with the full support of the order, how was he supposed to train legions? Thus, this trip was supposed to be an exercise in truancy, an escape from the harsh realities of life for both men. Han was momentarily escaping the burden of command, and Luke escaping the order placed upon him by his last master, Yoda. Luke shook his head. They were feasible excuses, but rather weak. For some reason, he knew he had to be on the Falcon when it lifted off. For some reason, the Force was pulling him....
Deliberately, Luke stopped that train of thought before he could get lost in it. This was supposed to be a vacation! With a determined stride and an air of forced cheerfulness, he strode into the engine compartment.
"Hey Han, got something that needs breaking?"