You've all been such fantastic reviewers, I'll put up another chapter.

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A thunderous explosion in the distance shook the ground under Leia's feet, followed by multiple detonations that blacked out lights and hurled chunks of the ceiling down at her. She instinctively groped for something to hang on to in dark anticipation as the shrill sound of TIE Bombers screamed overhead.

"Transport one has just departed, a voice droned over the comm speakers as the sound of the ships faded thankfully into the distance and the dim red glow of the emergency lighting came on, casting the corridor in crimson shadow. "Transport one has just departed. All remaining personnel report to bunker seven to board transports two and three immediately."

Leia caught her balance again, her mind tuning out the repeated order as she resumed her half-running scurry down the corridor, in the opposite direction of bunker seven, heading for the rough-hewn hangar bays where she knew the Falcon was docked. Another explosion rocked the corridor, the dim lights momentarily blanking out and then returning with a flicker. In the distance, she caught the silhouette of a person barreling toward her, ducking out of the way of several dirt clods falling from the ceiling as more explosions pounded the earthen roof above their heads.

"Leia?" Han's voice called to her as he raised his head. "Leia, is that you?"

Relief flooded through her at the sound of his voice; the knowledge that he was alive and unhurt. "Yes," she cried, stumbling forward. "It's me."

He caught her in a quick embrace, instinctively shielding her from the falling dirt and mud that accompanied another close-hitting explosion. "Come on," his muffled voice urged as he tugged at her wrist. "We don't have much time."

They reached the hangar without mishap, Chewie standing at the lowered ramp, beckoning wildly for them to hurry. As if to emphasize their need for haste, the shaking rumble of another close-hitting bomb rattled both them and the ship. Leia staggered, trying not to fall, and Han, who caught hold of her wrist, pulled her toward the ramp. She stumbled after him, several large sections of the earthen ceiling crashing down on the hangar floor as well as tumbling with a loud *thunk* on top of the ship.

"Ready Chewie?" Han called as he rounded the corner into the cockpit with flying speed. The wookiee was already seated in his oversized copilot's seat flipping switches as fast as he could, the droning background noise of the Falcon starting up sounding like an encouraging sign to Leia as she hurriedly strapped herself in. Solo dropped into his seat and Chewbacca barked something unintelligible to the former smuggler.

"Okay, punch it!" Han snapped to his copilot. Leia dug her fingernails into the plastene cover of the seat as the ship lurched forward like a mynock with its tail on fire.

What was left of the Rebel base quickly disappeared from Leia's view as the Falcon drove for deep space.

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"Home One's backside is getting cooked!" Wedge Antilles shouted over the roar of his ship's strained engines as he executed a sharp banking turn that almost fried several circuits. His Artoo unit and his X-wing squealed protests in unison.

"Two new waves of TIEs," Red Two snapped into his headset. "Up at three o'clock."

"I see them," Wedge answered affirmatively, blinking quickly to clear the dizziness from his brain as he scanned his console. "Rogues-form up over Home One before the Imps can punch a torpedo through her hull." There was a chorus of acknowledgements from his squadron and they scattered like flies to food toward the main ship. As Wedge plowed through a small pack of fighters, lasers blazing away, he caught sight of a familiar moon-shaped ship hastily making its way toward Home One.

The X-wing pilot toggled with his communicator. "Falcon, is that you?" he called.

"Yeah, Wedge," Han Solo's voice came over the comm. "Figured you could use a little help."

Antilles smiled ruefully. "Yeah, don't we always. Welcome to our little battle."

The horde of TIE fighters scattered a safe distance away from the Rebel's main ship and Ackbar's voice echoed in the middle of Wedge's head. "We appreciate your assistance, Rogue squadron."

"No problem, Admiral," Wedge grinned quickly. "That's why we're here." Another TIE was in his sights and a moment later it erupted into a brilliant cloud of fire.

A light on his console flashed and another voice droned in his headset, "Transport two is on its way. All fighters assume formations for safe evacuation."

"Watch out," another voice added. "We're getting another couple'a fresh squadrons of TIEs."

"They're cranking them out as fast as we can destroy them," someone else muttered.

"Cut the chatter," Wedge reminded them, eyeing his scopes. They had already located the lumbering transport rising past the atmosphere. "We just have to hold them off until all the transports are safely away."

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She found him in docking bay 28. It hadn't taken long to locate him, since this was the most obvious place he would be. For reasons unknown to even her, she had not bothered to alert security or the Emperor to the fact that the Jedi was on the loose. Perhaps it was best this way: Skywalker would not be so carefully on his guard.

The large bay was lined with orderly rows of TIE fighters getting ready to depart. Pilots and fuelling cars were scrambling in all directions, and if she hadn't known what she was looking for, she might have missed him completely. Set farther back into the hangar, a row of about ten sleek, deadly stingray-class fighters retained a highly polished aloofness from the bustle and noise. The ships were new models built with more expensive technology that Palpatine's scientists were still experimenting with. They were worth about three million credits apiece, and, judging by the silent, powered-down status of those fighters, the petty destruction of a Rebel base did not rate the presence of this new toy.

That is, the powered down status of all but one of those fighters.

The bustle of the hangar allowed for Skywalker to move about generally unnoticed-and his Force skills were certainly not doing him any harm in this area-as he commenced starting up one of these expensive ships. Mara frowned as she began walking toward the Jedi, compact blaster in hand. It took several security clearances and codes just to open the cockpit, forget about getting the thing running. A wrong move would have set off a barrage of alarms. Apparently Skywalker was better than she had given him credit for.

She got about fifteen feet away from the fighter, eyeing Luke as he made his way around the back of the ship, conducting his own quick external systems check. He limped into view, dressed in an olive-green flight suit he'd conjured up from somewhere. He was visibly favoring his left leg, a fixed grimace of pain and determination set into his features.

"Hold it right there, Skywalker," Mara said quietly.

Luke glanced up sharply, but his expression didn't change. He didn't stop or acknowledge the fact that she was pointing a weapon at him, but just continued his quick scan and then hobbled toward the ladder that would take him to the opened cockpit.

"Skywalker!" Mara took several more steps toward him, blaster still aimed between his shoulder blades. His back was to her and he didn't bother to turn around.

"Luke."

At that, he froze, turning his head toward her voice, left foot still poised at the first rung of the ladder. She had never used his first name before, and wondered vaguely what possessed her to do it now.

"I don't want to see you hurt anymore," she said quietly, realizing she was being completely honest. She wouldn't deny that she had come from hating the stubborn Jedi for taking part in her failure and humiliating her in front of her master to pitying him for becoming an unwilling pawn in a game in which he was rapidly losing control of its outcome to the toying whimsies of Palpatine. "However you will come with me, even if it means that I have to use this." She hefted the blaster. He didn't move. "If the Emperor finds out that you tried to escape again, you will be punished," she promised him, watching his face carefully for a reaction. His expression remained stony.

She paused, lowering her blaster slightly, not quite sure of what insane notion was prompting her to say this. "I can help you, Skywalker," she murmured. "If you come back with me now while you have the chance-if you will just cooperate with what the Emperor wants you to do-you won't get hurt anymore."

Luke's eyes were focused intently on Mara's blaster and then the searing accusation in his bright blue eyes found hers, unwittingly sending shivers up her spine. "I won't be coming back with you," he answered flatly. His voice sounded dead. "You will have to shoot me first."

. Would she even go so far as to admit that she held a quiet, grudging admiration for his stubborn persistence in sticking up for what he felt was right? Mara balled her left hand into a fist in frustration. "Are you out of your mind?" she snapped, jerking away from the intense stare of those eyes. "Do you like causing yourself and the people you love so much pain and misery? How many times does it have to be drilled into you that there is an easier way? You're so gundark stubborn that you can't just give in and cooperate and stop this?"

Luke's chin rose a millimeter, and underneath the hard flint and steel that his crystal blue eyes had become, Mara could see a deep and lingering pain.

"You just don't get it, do you?" He whispered finally.

The words stung. Mara was abruptly silent as she opened her mouth to retort and nothing came out.

Finally, swaying slightly, his eyes seeming to see something in hers that she didn't see herself, Skywalker nodded slightly and turned back to the ladder, catching one of the rungs with his arm and pulling himself up. "Goodbye Mara," he said quietly. He didn't turn back.

Mara watched in silence, not moving or attempting to stop the Jedi or the ship he was stealing.

And she remained motionless as the Stingray rolled forward and soon swept out of the hangar bay with the departing squadron of TIE fighters.

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"That's it," Wedge Antilles' voice announced over the comm as the third and final transport disappeared into the safety of hyperspace. "We're done."

"All ships set your coordinates to jump to hyperspace on my mark," Admiral Ackbar's voice echoed after Wedge's.

"Time to leave this party," Han muttered to himself, reaching for the hyperspace levers.

Behind him, Leia stared, unspeaking, into the depths of space, wondering why a vivid image of Luke had suddenly flashed in front of her eyes.

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The Alliance had gone.

He watched with a final, hollow feeling as the last straggling fighters had disappeared into hyperspace: He never expected, and told himself, that deep down, he genuinely hoped never to see Han And Leia again--for their own sakes. Grimly, eyes casting a final furtive glance back at the Conqueror, he pulled back the hyperspace levers.

As the stars stretched into a thick blur he quietly reminded himself that another, added reason for his escape was for the sake of Mara Jade herself, though she did not know it. Against his wary judgment, amidst his overwhelming worry and anxiety, he had actually found that he genuinely looked forward to her company and caustic remarks as some of the brighter parts of his dark days.

How could he even find that they had anything in common--she the personal assassin to Palpatine and he the lone remaining Jedi--much less discover that he had begun to value the precarious friendship that they had formed? However, such a weakness was dangerous to have, Luke knew--one that Palpatine would no doubt exploit if he knew about it. Perhaps he already did know, Luke reflected. All the more reason to get out. He was sure that, despite her status as the Emperor's personal agent, Palpatine wouldn't hesitate to use her if it meant bending the Jedi to his will.

Luke silently chided himself for being so foolish and taking such a wild risk not only with her life, but also in increasing his susceptibility to the Dark Side. He should have been more careful about keeping his distance and remaining aloof. Anybody that he would grow to care for was only going to get hurt.

His eyes gazing steely into hyperspace, he silently resolved that he would never rejoin the Alliance and never seek out his friends or family to let them know that he was alive. It would be too dangerous, for surely Palpatine would be looking for him again, and if or when Luke was ever caught, he did not want the guilt and grief of having anyone he loved getting hurt because of him.

His life had to be started anew.

It was a big galaxy and Luke fully intended to remain hidden from those who would search him out. After all, Obi-wan and Yoda had successfully hidden from the Empire. Granted, they had lived out most of the remainder of their lives as hermits, which was something of a disheartening prospect for someone who had formerly had enormous plans for the rest of his life, but Luke decided he would do what he had to do. He wasn't quiet sure how he might accomplish this considerable feat--wasn't sure if he was strong enough in the Force, or even if he should attempt using the Force at all, considering that perhaps doing so might reveal his whereabouts more quickly than otherwise.

Luke leaned his head back onto the sparsely padded headrest and tried to relax, reminding himself that his escape had been successful--if almost suspiciously simple--and, for the time being, he was safe. Still, his muscles refused to undo the tense knots they had formed, and his leg ached considerably, now that he had time to sit down and notice.

A lump rose in his throat as he continued to stare out the viewport, the taunting vision of the stark loneliness that might last the rest of his life hovering in front of his eyes.

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END OF PART I

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