Kay, Hi all. Here after another lengthy break, is some more story. As you
might have already figured out, I am unskilled in the ways of getting
Italics on ff.n, and too lazy to figure them out....so.. all the * * mark
where someone's thinking. You probably figured that out already too.
Well, enjoy and thanks for your patience and enthusiasm! ( Don't forget
to write...
T.
*************
*"No thanks--I don't drink." Luke set the tall, exotic-looking glass filled with a vile, light green liquid down upon the scratched tabletop. *
*Han chuckled from where he sat slouched in the seat opposite him, casting an amused glance at Chewie. "Aw, what you mean is you're too scared to drink, kid." He looked at his copilot again. "Of course you could also be too young." They both laughed.*
*Luke bristled and glared at the glass, not appreciating the fact that he was the object of their jokes. *
*"But you're in luck, junior," the smuggler went on, still grinning. "It just so happens that this beverage is not alcoholic. It's made from the finest stuff in the galaxy. It's a health food." Solo leaned forward. "You're a big Alliance hero now, kid, what with the Death Star and everything--you need to start looking the part." He shot the younger man a knowing grin. "Just drink it--it won't hurt you."*
*Luke could feel his face warm in embarrassment, but he didn't make a move to take the glass. Solo was beginning to lose his patience with his companion and before Luke could stop him, the smuggler was shouting across the cantina filled with pilots, "Hey! Wedge Antilles--get over here." *
*The dark-haired X-wing pilot made it over to their table, a glass of something in his hand. "You called?" he asked, offering a slightly foolish- looking grin that suggested he was somewhat less than sober. *
*"Yeah." Solo gestured to Luke. "Skywalker, here, he won't touch his drink, despite my attest of goodwill that it won't kill him. Go ahead-- tell him it's good." *
*Wedge looked down at Luke's glass. "Is that a Corellian live wire?" *
*"Yeah, it's great, huh?" *
*"This stuff's a health food. Should be part of a guy's regular diet. Do you mind?" he asked Luke, taking the glass. Luke was only too happy to have it taken off his hands. Wedge took a long swallow of the green drink and set the half-empty glass back on the table, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "That's great stuff." *
*"Exactly," Solo agreed. "See, kid, it's not bad." *
*Luke looked dubiously from the glass in front of him, to the faces watching him expectantly. "Okay," he sighed. "Fine." *
*Wedge clapped him on the back. "It will do you good," he informed his friend. *
*Luke took the glass and eyed the frothy green drink. Then he shut his eyes and took a careful swallow. *
*Liquid fire burned his tongue and throat, spreading to his whole face and nose and eyes. Luke choked, spewing his drink. His eyes were burning and tears were streaming down his face to complement his uncontrollable coughing. The remainder of the drink that managed to make it to his stomach burned all the way down. And all the while, the laughter of his friends echoed across the cantina. *
Luke stopped working on the droid he was repairing and looked around the musty, empty repair shop, feeling his face warm in chagrin as he recalled that incident. He could still remember it vividly, despite the fact that it had happened over three years ago. Ever since the battle of Yavin, when Han began taking jobs from the Alliance, the smuggler had seemed to be on a goodwill project to culture the wet-behind-the-ears farm kid who was fresh off of a desert dust ball. His "help" had been the cause of a number of public humiliations for Luke.
The sound of an approaching speeder coming nearer to the shop startled the Jedi out of his tired train of thought. He glanced at his wrist chrono. It was early in the afternoon--much sooner than the time Aram usually returned home. Maybe he'd finished early for once. Well, Luke was already running behind today, so an extra hand would help immensely.
A few minutes passed, and Luke glanced at the shop's entryway. The door was just out of sight, around the corner. He waited reflexively to hear the sound his employer entering, but an odd sense of danger nagged at the back of his mind, worsening an already nagging headache. Luke frowned and got to his feet, peering out from the shop's high windows. He didn't see anything amiss. Was he just so tired now, that his senses were going haywire? * That's encouraging.*
Luke sighed and grabbed an already filthy rag off the small table and wiped the grease off his hands. It couldn't hurt for him to take a look outside, just in case.
He had just entered the shop's narrow entryway, about two meters from the door, when the dull sense of danger exploded into grating hostility, and belatedly, he could sense several distinct angry presences just outside the door. Luke barely had time to jerk his blaster from its holster when he heard a shot fired and the door suddenly blew inward with violent force.
The Jedi jerked aside, out of the possible line of fire, and the first horrified thought racing through his mind was that the Empire had found him. Finally, the wait was over and the inevitable had come to pass. A moment later, however, his attackers came into view: There were six of them, all dressed alike--filthy black clothes, ratty, metallic blue/black hair. Each of the six sported scruffy, unshaven faces and a variety of deadly weapons, most of which Luke recognized as being illegal on most planets. Their searing, angry eyes were directed at Luke, who stood facing them, blaster ready in his hands, his muscles tense, ready to spring, his danger sense singing.
"Drop the weapon if you value your life any," the first ravenhead snapped, waving a double-barreled Magnesen 14ZT blaster threateningly in Luke's direction.
Luke shook his head, shuffling backward a step. There was only one door to the shop and the gang members were blocking it. Behind him were harmless, inert pieces of machinery and two rather high windows. Luke doubted that he would be able to make it to one of those before being shot first. He wished he had his lightsaber. "Look," he began, trying to project a calm into his voice that he did not particularly feel. "I don't know what this is all about, but maybe we can--"
"Drop the weapon," the other man spat, his eyes hardening as he tightened his grip over the trigger.
Luke's eyes flickered to his attackers. Six against one. Those weren't such foreign odds. But certainly he had a better chance against them if he kept his weapon.
"All right," he replied, letting his voice and expression show that he intended to surrender to their threats. "I see your point." He let his shoulders slump in a show of resignation and stooped as if to set the blaster on the ground, feeling the hostile gazes of his six attackers bore into his skull.
Surprise was the only thing on his side, but Luke took advantage of it: he swept up the blaster and blindly fired four random shots, vaguely hearing the surprised yelp of pain as one bolt struck the lead ravenhead in the leg. The room erupted into fire. A shot struck the sole of Luke's boot as the Jedi scrambled for cover. Another narrowly grazed his sleeve. He dived behind the cluttered wooden table, praying that the blocky droid perched in front of it would provide enough cover. His ears were ringing with the ZING of blaster bolts striking metal, and he fired blindly back, acutely aware that this could not go on for much longer than a few minutes before they either killed him or he killed one of them. Luke would prefer not to have another death on his conscience.
He did not know what they could want from him. He had been very careful to keep to himself and not cause trouble by attracting attention to himself, except, of course, when he repaired that droid in the cantina. Were they trying to exact a price from his hide over that?
A blaster bolt exploded against the side of the covering droid and shrapnel sprayed into the nearby wall and into Luke's left arm. He jerked back, too much adrenaline pumping through his system to feel pain, firing back to make them keep their heads down. Another bolt narrowly missed Luke's ear by a matter of centimeters.
The sudden slam of the shop's door made the firefight freeze and the Jedi looked up, inexplicably going cold all over.
"Luke?" Benjamin's voice called, oblivious to trouble as the boy marched into the shop.
Luke straightened, his own danger suddenly forgotten. "Benjamin--No!"
One of the ravenheads angrily snapped off a shot at Luke, forcing the Jedi to keep his head down. It was too late to do anything. Luke heard the surprised cry as one of the gang members seized Benjamin by the collar and hauled him into view, jerking the child toward him.
Benjamin's eyes were wide with sudden confusion and fear and a sob escaped his small frame. The ravenhead shook him roughly. "Be quiet."
"Luke?" Benjamin cried to the Jedi crouched behind the small table. "Help me--"
"Shut up," the ravenhead snapped to the boy.
Luke didn't move from where he was barely hidden from the trained blaster sights of the gang members. His weapon was on the floor and his fingers groped at it uselessly, his heart pounding. Why did Benjamin have to choose now, of all times, to come and bug Luke in the shop? These guys weren't right in the head--who could say what they would do? *And you would prefer not to have another death on your conscience. *
The eyes of each member of the gang were shining with he gleam of the same idea, their attention now split between their intended prey and the little boy they now held captive.
One of the ravenheads, his blaster still trained on Luke, took a step backwards towards Benjamin, his black eyes watching the Jedi carefully for a reaction.
"Is the little boy a friend of yours?" He asked, smiling easily. Luke didn't answer. The man half-turned his head toward Benjamin. "You know this guy, kid?"
Benjamin only stared, afraid, his eyes darting from the man's gun to Luke's half-hidden features and back again. The man holding him tightened his grip on the back of the boy's shirt.
"I hafta-_I.." Benjamin swallowed. "I have to go home now."
The ravenhead made a face. "You have to go home?" He looked at Luke again. "You want him to go home?"
It sounded like a threat. Luke swallowed. "Let the boy go. He has nothing to do with this. If it's me you want, then come deal with me--just let him go."
The man raised his eyebrows. "Slide the blaster across the floor."
Luke hesitated for a fraction of a second. The ravenhead, with a sudden, malicious jerk, yanked his blaster around, purposefully putting it to the side of Benjamin's head, a tearful whimper coming from the terrified child. "Hand it over or I kill the kid."
With those words, a sudden stab of panic shot through Luke. His vision seemed to tunnel with memories of his nightmares and reality that seemed to swarm together and swim up before his eyes. *I will never let myself care for anyone ever again.I don't want to see you hurt.You've betrayed us all.you killed him.it was your fault.your fault. *
*Never let them be hurt. Never get close to anyone ever again. And you did anyway! Luke, how could you? *
*You're so loyal. *
*Your fault. your fault .your fault your fault. *
The ramifications of Luke's sudden, flaring anger flickered across his mind briefly: his hiding place would be revealed to every Force-sensitive on this side of the galaxy. He would have to leave--but that was probably something he should have done several weeks ago. Anyway, what would happen later didn't matter--this was his fault, and he intended to fix it. So it was not quite unthinkingly that Luke called upon the Force: that shining, almost forgotten power that had lain dormant, suppressed and deliberately ignored in the back of his mind. He welcomed it like an old, familiar friend, and it seemed to fill his very being with light. He would not see an innocent, trusting little boy be hurt because of him, no matter how many Imperial henchmen there were poised to fall upon his newly revealed hiding place afterwards.
A sudden, howling wind swept through the small repair shop, as Luke called upon the Force, seizing weapons and machinery. The ravenheads jerked in surprise as their blasters yanked free of their hands. Blue stun beams, fired from Luke's gun, lashed out like razor wires across the small shop, and within a matter of moments, six black-clad men lay unconscious on the floor.
*******
"Princess, are you all right?" General Rieekan whispered, leaning over to her.
Leia looked up, pressing her hands against the flat tabletop to keep them from shaking. She blinked to clear her vision and tried to nod to Rieekan to show him that nothing was wrong. "Yes, I'm fine."
But she wasn't exactly, although she couldn't have said what just happened. The oddest sensation had swept through her, strangely familiar, and yet utterly foreign. She could not have said what it was, but only that it reminded her of Luke. *Now you're being silly,* she chided herself. "Yes," she nodded to Rieekan again. "I'm okay."
She shifted her gaze uncomfortably around the council meeting table to see if any others had seemed to notice the scene she'd nearly made. It didn't look as if anyone else had seen. Madine was still talking, and no one was looking at her. She stopped short at her husband's concerned gaze, eyeing her across the table. Leia tried to offer a smile, but his expression didn't change. He was worried for her, which was really nothing new. His over-protectiveness had worsened with her pregnancy. He was becoming as bad as Chewie and she'd told him so. Her husband had not reacted well to that comparison.
She smiled reassuringly to him and mouthed, *I'm fine. *
Solo didn't look convinced.
***********************
Mara Jade lay slumped half-asleep in the pilot's seat of her ship, the mottled, surreal scene of hyperspace casting an odd bluish light on the cockpit. In her lap, a datapad lay, forgotten, as she had drifted off.
With a sudden gasp, she straightened, fully awake, green eyes wide as she stared into hyperspace as if trying to see through it. She'd had a vision of Luke Skywalker, dressed in the light gray of a mechanic's uniform, engaged in a brief, potent firefight. The Force swept around the Jedi as if someone had turned on a spotlight in a darkened room. For a long, startling moment, it was as though Mara were standing in the same place as Luke, seeing the same things as he saw. Everything about his whereabouts suddenly became abundantly clear and she instinctively knew the details of those thoughts were not her own. Her vision cleared and Mara was back in the cockpit of her ship, all trace of sleepiness gone from her mind.
Nothing like that had ever happened to her before--not even when she received instructions or angry visions from Palpatine had anything been that vivid and realistic. It was unnerving. She stood shakily, not seeing the corrugated tunnel of hyperspace barreling past her vision. She knew where Luke was, but probably so did Vader and Palpatine as well. It didn't leave her with much time to warn him and help him escape.
Mara shook her head and sat down again. What in the worlds had Skywalker just done?
******
"Benjamin--are you all right?" Luke picked his way over unconscious bodies and toppled furniture to kneel in front of the small boy, still standing rooted in place. Benjamin nodded, his eyes wary and cautious, scared of getting too close to Luke. The Jedi felt the blanket of familiar guilt that seemed to smother him and he eyed the oozing cut on the child's forehead where the ravenhead had struck him with the butt of the blaster. "It's okay," he assured the boy. "I won't let them hurt you again." *But you let them do it this time. *
"Did they hurt YOU?" Benjamin asked timidly, swiping at the frightened tears smearing dirt on his grimy face.
Luke shook his head. "No, they didn't hurt me. I'm fine."
"You hands are all shaky."
Luke eyed his hands, still gripping Benjamin's upper arms, and he tried to summon a laugh. "Yes they are," he agreed. "Imagine that." He ruffled the boy's hair and got to his feet. His knees felt like jelly.
The shop door slammed and Luke tensed, but it was only Connah. "I thought I heard something--What happened?" she gasped, seeing the bodies of the gang members. She looked up at Luke and Benjamin, gasped a second time when she saw the gash on her nephew's forehead. She reached for him protectively and the boy sank into the arms of his aunt. Connah held him protectively away from Luke, her expression hardening into something that resembled accusation. "What is going on?"
Luke straightened, the guilt multiplying as he saw the fear and mistrust in her eyes. He would leave here as soon as he possibly could--tomorrow if he could manage it. His decision to come here and work had been a mistake, and Benjamin had almost paid for it with his life. "I'll explain later," he answered. "But first, I think you had better call the authorities."
*********************
Captain Peyton was bent over a console on the bridge of the Imperial Star Destroyer Conquerer, impatiently barking orders at a technician, when the blast doors behind him opened with an ominous hiss. Without turning, Peyton could tell by the sudden hush that swept the bridge who had entered. Darth Vader strode evenly forward, the steady hiss of his mechanical breather sounding like a time bomb waiting to explode. His manner seemed particularly agitated.
Peyton straightened in a hurry as the dark lord approached. Vader gestured impatiently at the viewport where the hypnotic scene of hyperspace roiled past. "Take us out of hyperspace immediately."
Peyton frowned. "But my lord--" he blurted.
"Immediately, Captain, or I shall have you demoted," Vader snapped, turning. He had precious little time to waste. Behind him, the faltering voice of the captain was meekly apologizing, and ordering the drop into realspace.
Vader was angry. It was a miracle he'd managed to keep his temper in check this long, he just hoped no one tried to push his patience. He was angry, because, whether by accident or design, his ship was heading in the complete opposite direction from where, he'd just discovered, the presence of his son had lain hidden from him.
It seemed too foolish a "mistake" on Mara Jade's part to be genuine, and the fact that she wasn't here--gone on some excuse about a brief errand for the Emperor--added to his suspicions that she had deliberately thrown the scent away from Luke so Vader could not find his son. If so, she would pay for her crimes later. And in the meantime, her efforts would be in vain.
The viewports now revealed the blackness of normal space, showing to all aboard that they were suspended in the middle of nowhere. The crew seemed to wait expectantly for him to tell them what to do next.
Vader handed a datapad to Captain Peyton. "I want you to set course to these coordinates." The numbers gave the location of a small planet called Derra IV. It would take almost three days to get there. But Luke was somewhere on that planet.
"Yes sir," Peyton nodded.
Vader stood watching for several moments. He wished to waste no time by contacting Palpatine personally through holo. He wanted to make the jump into hyperspace immediately. He would send a message to the Emperor.
There was really no time to lose. Luke was almost in his grasp.
****************************************** ****************************************
DUN DUN DUN...
T.
*************
*"No thanks--I don't drink." Luke set the tall, exotic-looking glass filled with a vile, light green liquid down upon the scratched tabletop. *
*Han chuckled from where he sat slouched in the seat opposite him, casting an amused glance at Chewie. "Aw, what you mean is you're too scared to drink, kid." He looked at his copilot again. "Of course you could also be too young." They both laughed.*
*Luke bristled and glared at the glass, not appreciating the fact that he was the object of their jokes. *
*"But you're in luck, junior," the smuggler went on, still grinning. "It just so happens that this beverage is not alcoholic. It's made from the finest stuff in the galaxy. It's a health food." Solo leaned forward. "You're a big Alliance hero now, kid, what with the Death Star and everything--you need to start looking the part." He shot the younger man a knowing grin. "Just drink it--it won't hurt you."*
*Luke could feel his face warm in embarrassment, but he didn't make a move to take the glass. Solo was beginning to lose his patience with his companion and before Luke could stop him, the smuggler was shouting across the cantina filled with pilots, "Hey! Wedge Antilles--get over here." *
*The dark-haired X-wing pilot made it over to their table, a glass of something in his hand. "You called?" he asked, offering a slightly foolish- looking grin that suggested he was somewhat less than sober. *
*"Yeah." Solo gestured to Luke. "Skywalker, here, he won't touch his drink, despite my attest of goodwill that it won't kill him. Go ahead-- tell him it's good." *
*Wedge looked down at Luke's glass. "Is that a Corellian live wire?" *
*"Yeah, it's great, huh?" *
*"This stuff's a health food. Should be part of a guy's regular diet. Do you mind?" he asked Luke, taking the glass. Luke was only too happy to have it taken off his hands. Wedge took a long swallow of the green drink and set the half-empty glass back on the table, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "That's great stuff." *
*"Exactly," Solo agreed. "See, kid, it's not bad." *
*Luke looked dubiously from the glass in front of him, to the faces watching him expectantly. "Okay," he sighed. "Fine." *
*Wedge clapped him on the back. "It will do you good," he informed his friend. *
*Luke took the glass and eyed the frothy green drink. Then he shut his eyes and took a careful swallow. *
*Liquid fire burned his tongue and throat, spreading to his whole face and nose and eyes. Luke choked, spewing his drink. His eyes were burning and tears were streaming down his face to complement his uncontrollable coughing. The remainder of the drink that managed to make it to his stomach burned all the way down. And all the while, the laughter of his friends echoed across the cantina. *
Luke stopped working on the droid he was repairing and looked around the musty, empty repair shop, feeling his face warm in chagrin as he recalled that incident. He could still remember it vividly, despite the fact that it had happened over three years ago. Ever since the battle of Yavin, when Han began taking jobs from the Alliance, the smuggler had seemed to be on a goodwill project to culture the wet-behind-the-ears farm kid who was fresh off of a desert dust ball. His "help" had been the cause of a number of public humiliations for Luke.
The sound of an approaching speeder coming nearer to the shop startled the Jedi out of his tired train of thought. He glanced at his wrist chrono. It was early in the afternoon--much sooner than the time Aram usually returned home. Maybe he'd finished early for once. Well, Luke was already running behind today, so an extra hand would help immensely.
A few minutes passed, and Luke glanced at the shop's entryway. The door was just out of sight, around the corner. He waited reflexively to hear the sound his employer entering, but an odd sense of danger nagged at the back of his mind, worsening an already nagging headache. Luke frowned and got to his feet, peering out from the shop's high windows. He didn't see anything amiss. Was he just so tired now, that his senses were going haywire? * That's encouraging.*
Luke sighed and grabbed an already filthy rag off the small table and wiped the grease off his hands. It couldn't hurt for him to take a look outside, just in case.
He had just entered the shop's narrow entryway, about two meters from the door, when the dull sense of danger exploded into grating hostility, and belatedly, he could sense several distinct angry presences just outside the door. Luke barely had time to jerk his blaster from its holster when he heard a shot fired and the door suddenly blew inward with violent force.
The Jedi jerked aside, out of the possible line of fire, and the first horrified thought racing through his mind was that the Empire had found him. Finally, the wait was over and the inevitable had come to pass. A moment later, however, his attackers came into view: There were six of them, all dressed alike--filthy black clothes, ratty, metallic blue/black hair. Each of the six sported scruffy, unshaven faces and a variety of deadly weapons, most of which Luke recognized as being illegal on most planets. Their searing, angry eyes were directed at Luke, who stood facing them, blaster ready in his hands, his muscles tense, ready to spring, his danger sense singing.
"Drop the weapon if you value your life any," the first ravenhead snapped, waving a double-barreled Magnesen 14ZT blaster threateningly in Luke's direction.
Luke shook his head, shuffling backward a step. There was only one door to the shop and the gang members were blocking it. Behind him were harmless, inert pieces of machinery and two rather high windows. Luke doubted that he would be able to make it to one of those before being shot first. He wished he had his lightsaber. "Look," he began, trying to project a calm into his voice that he did not particularly feel. "I don't know what this is all about, but maybe we can--"
"Drop the weapon," the other man spat, his eyes hardening as he tightened his grip over the trigger.
Luke's eyes flickered to his attackers. Six against one. Those weren't such foreign odds. But certainly he had a better chance against them if he kept his weapon.
"All right," he replied, letting his voice and expression show that he intended to surrender to their threats. "I see your point." He let his shoulders slump in a show of resignation and stooped as if to set the blaster on the ground, feeling the hostile gazes of his six attackers bore into his skull.
Surprise was the only thing on his side, but Luke took advantage of it: he swept up the blaster and blindly fired four random shots, vaguely hearing the surprised yelp of pain as one bolt struck the lead ravenhead in the leg. The room erupted into fire. A shot struck the sole of Luke's boot as the Jedi scrambled for cover. Another narrowly grazed his sleeve. He dived behind the cluttered wooden table, praying that the blocky droid perched in front of it would provide enough cover. His ears were ringing with the ZING of blaster bolts striking metal, and he fired blindly back, acutely aware that this could not go on for much longer than a few minutes before they either killed him or he killed one of them. Luke would prefer not to have another death on his conscience.
He did not know what they could want from him. He had been very careful to keep to himself and not cause trouble by attracting attention to himself, except, of course, when he repaired that droid in the cantina. Were they trying to exact a price from his hide over that?
A blaster bolt exploded against the side of the covering droid and shrapnel sprayed into the nearby wall and into Luke's left arm. He jerked back, too much adrenaline pumping through his system to feel pain, firing back to make them keep their heads down. Another bolt narrowly missed Luke's ear by a matter of centimeters.
The sudden slam of the shop's door made the firefight freeze and the Jedi looked up, inexplicably going cold all over.
"Luke?" Benjamin's voice called, oblivious to trouble as the boy marched into the shop.
Luke straightened, his own danger suddenly forgotten. "Benjamin--No!"
One of the ravenheads angrily snapped off a shot at Luke, forcing the Jedi to keep his head down. It was too late to do anything. Luke heard the surprised cry as one of the gang members seized Benjamin by the collar and hauled him into view, jerking the child toward him.
Benjamin's eyes were wide with sudden confusion and fear and a sob escaped his small frame. The ravenhead shook him roughly. "Be quiet."
"Luke?" Benjamin cried to the Jedi crouched behind the small table. "Help me--"
"Shut up," the ravenhead snapped to the boy.
Luke didn't move from where he was barely hidden from the trained blaster sights of the gang members. His weapon was on the floor and his fingers groped at it uselessly, his heart pounding. Why did Benjamin have to choose now, of all times, to come and bug Luke in the shop? These guys weren't right in the head--who could say what they would do? *And you would prefer not to have another death on your conscience. *
The eyes of each member of the gang were shining with he gleam of the same idea, their attention now split between their intended prey and the little boy they now held captive.
One of the ravenheads, his blaster still trained on Luke, took a step backwards towards Benjamin, his black eyes watching the Jedi carefully for a reaction.
"Is the little boy a friend of yours?" He asked, smiling easily. Luke didn't answer. The man half-turned his head toward Benjamin. "You know this guy, kid?"
Benjamin only stared, afraid, his eyes darting from the man's gun to Luke's half-hidden features and back again. The man holding him tightened his grip on the back of the boy's shirt.
"I hafta-_I.." Benjamin swallowed. "I have to go home now."
The ravenhead made a face. "You have to go home?" He looked at Luke again. "You want him to go home?"
It sounded like a threat. Luke swallowed. "Let the boy go. He has nothing to do with this. If it's me you want, then come deal with me--just let him go."
The man raised his eyebrows. "Slide the blaster across the floor."
Luke hesitated for a fraction of a second. The ravenhead, with a sudden, malicious jerk, yanked his blaster around, purposefully putting it to the side of Benjamin's head, a tearful whimper coming from the terrified child. "Hand it over or I kill the kid."
With those words, a sudden stab of panic shot through Luke. His vision seemed to tunnel with memories of his nightmares and reality that seemed to swarm together and swim up before his eyes. *I will never let myself care for anyone ever again.I don't want to see you hurt.You've betrayed us all.you killed him.it was your fault.your fault. *
*Never let them be hurt. Never get close to anyone ever again. And you did anyway! Luke, how could you? *
*You're so loyal. *
*Your fault. your fault .your fault your fault. *
The ramifications of Luke's sudden, flaring anger flickered across his mind briefly: his hiding place would be revealed to every Force-sensitive on this side of the galaxy. He would have to leave--but that was probably something he should have done several weeks ago. Anyway, what would happen later didn't matter--this was his fault, and he intended to fix it. So it was not quite unthinkingly that Luke called upon the Force: that shining, almost forgotten power that had lain dormant, suppressed and deliberately ignored in the back of his mind. He welcomed it like an old, familiar friend, and it seemed to fill his very being with light. He would not see an innocent, trusting little boy be hurt because of him, no matter how many Imperial henchmen there were poised to fall upon his newly revealed hiding place afterwards.
A sudden, howling wind swept through the small repair shop, as Luke called upon the Force, seizing weapons and machinery. The ravenheads jerked in surprise as their blasters yanked free of their hands. Blue stun beams, fired from Luke's gun, lashed out like razor wires across the small shop, and within a matter of moments, six black-clad men lay unconscious on the floor.
*******
"Princess, are you all right?" General Rieekan whispered, leaning over to her.
Leia looked up, pressing her hands against the flat tabletop to keep them from shaking. She blinked to clear her vision and tried to nod to Rieekan to show him that nothing was wrong. "Yes, I'm fine."
But she wasn't exactly, although she couldn't have said what just happened. The oddest sensation had swept through her, strangely familiar, and yet utterly foreign. She could not have said what it was, but only that it reminded her of Luke. *Now you're being silly,* she chided herself. "Yes," she nodded to Rieekan again. "I'm okay."
She shifted her gaze uncomfortably around the council meeting table to see if any others had seemed to notice the scene she'd nearly made. It didn't look as if anyone else had seen. Madine was still talking, and no one was looking at her. She stopped short at her husband's concerned gaze, eyeing her across the table. Leia tried to offer a smile, but his expression didn't change. He was worried for her, which was really nothing new. His over-protectiveness had worsened with her pregnancy. He was becoming as bad as Chewie and she'd told him so. Her husband had not reacted well to that comparison.
She smiled reassuringly to him and mouthed, *I'm fine. *
Solo didn't look convinced.
***********************
Mara Jade lay slumped half-asleep in the pilot's seat of her ship, the mottled, surreal scene of hyperspace casting an odd bluish light on the cockpit. In her lap, a datapad lay, forgotten, as she had drifted off.
With a sudden gasp, she straightened, fully awake, green eyes wide as she stared into hyperspace as if trying to see through it. She'd had a vision of Luke Skywalker, dressed in the light gray of a mechanic's uniform, engaged in a brief, potent firefight. The Force swept around the Jedi as if someone had turned on a spotlight in a darkened room. For a long, startling moment, it was as though Mara were standing in the same place as Luke, seeing the same things as he saw. Everything about his whereabouts suddenly became abundantly clear and she instinctively knew the details of those thoughts were not her own. Her vision cleared and Mara was back in the cockpit of her ship, all trace of sleepiness gone from her mind.
Nothing like that had ever happened to her before--not even when she received instructions or angry visions from Palpatine had anything been that vivid and realistic. It was unnerving. She stood shakily, not seeing the corrugated tunnel of hyperspace barreling past her vision. She knew where Luke was, but probably so did Vader and Palpatine as well. It didn't leave her with much time to warn him and help him escape.
Mara shook her head and sat down again. What in the worlds had Skywalker just done?
******
"Benjamin--are you all right?" Luke picked his way over unconscious bodies and toppled furniture to kneel in front of the small boy, still standing rooted in place. Benjamin nodded, his eyes wary and cautious, scared of getting too close to Luke. The Jedi felt the blanket of familiar guilt that seemed to smother him and he eyed the oozing cut on the child's forehead where the ravenhead had struck him with the butt of the blaster. "It's okay," he assured the boy. "I won't let them hurt you again." *But you let them do it this time. *
"Did they hurt YOU?" Benjamin asked timidly, swiping at the frightened tears smearing dirt on his grimy face.
Luke shook his head. "No, they didn't hurt me. I'm fine."
"You hands are all shaky."
Luke eyed his hands, still gripping Benjamin's upper arms, and he tried to summon a laugh. "Yes they are," he agreed. "Imagine that." He ruffled the boy's hair and got to his feet. His knees felt like jelly.
The shop door slammed and Luke tensed, but it was only Connah. "I thought I heard something--What happened?" she gasped, seeing the bodies of the gang members. She looked up at Luke and Benjamin, gasped a second time when she saw the gash on her nephew's forehead. She reached for him protectively and the boy sank into the arms of his aunt. Connah held him protectively away from Luke, her expression hardening into something that resembled accusation. "What is going on?"
Luke straightened, the guilt multiplying as he saw the fear and mistrust in her eyes. He would leave here as soon as he possibly could--tomorrow if he could manage it. His decision to come here and work had been a mistake, and Benjamin had almost paid for it with his life. "I'll explain later," he answered. "But first, I think you had better call the authorities."
*********************
Captain Peyton was bent over a console on the bridge of the Imperial Star Destroyer Conquerer, impatiently barking orders at a technician, when the blast doors behind him opened with an ominous hiss. Without turning, Peyton could tell by the sudden hush that swept the bridge who had entered. Darth Vader strode evenly forward, the steady hiss of his mechanical breather sounding like a time bomb waiting to explode. His manner seemed particularly agitated.
Peyton straightened in a hurry as the dark lord approached. Vader gestured impatiently at the viewport where the hypnotic scene of hyperspace roiled past. "Take us out of hyperspace immediately."
Peyton frowned. "But my lord--" he blurted.
"Immediately, Captain, or I shall have you demoted," Vader snapped, turning. He had precious little time to waste. Behind him, the faltering voice of the captain was meekly apologizing, and ordering the drop into realspace.
Vader was angry. It was a miracle he'd managed to keep his temper in check this long, he just hoped no one tried to push his patience. He was angry, because, whether by accident or design, his ship was heading in the complete opposite direction from where, he'd just discovered, the presence of his son had lain hidden from him.
It seemed too foolish a "mistake" on Mara Jade's part to be genuine, and the fact that she wasn't here--gone on some excuse about a brief errand for the Emperor--added to his suspicions that she had deliberately thrown the scent away from Luke so Vader could not find his son. If so, she would pay for her crimes later. And in the meantime, her efforts would be in vain.
The viewports now revealed the blackness of normal space, showing to all aboard that they were suspended in the middle of nowhere. The crew seemed to wait expectantly for him to tell them what to do next.
Vader handed a datapad to Captain Peyton. "I want you to set course to these coordinates." The numbers gave the location of a small planet called Derra IV. It would take almost three days to get there. But Luke was somewhere on that planet.
"Yes sir," Peyton nodded.
Vader stood watching for several moments. He wished to waste no time by contacting Palpatine personally through holo. He wanted to make the jump into hyperspace immediately. He would send a message to the Emperor.
There was really no time to lose. Luke was almost in his grasp.
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DUN DUN DUN...
