Mos Eisely, Tatooine
It often amazed Luke how long it took for new things to reach the outer rim. In a corner of the dirty cantina, a bith band wailed on their instruments. They were still playing jizz wailer music--something very outdated in the core systems and more civilized systems like Courscant and Cardia. Luke listlessly listened to them play, remembering. It had been right there--right across the room, in that little booth over there--that he had first met Han Solo. Similar music had been playing. The room had been dark, like this. After coming inside, out of the harsh light from the twin stars, you could hardly see a thing. Actually, Luke doubted that the tables, bandstand, and bar had been changed any in the twenty-four years since that day. All of it looked out-dated, as if Luke had stepped back in time, back to being a teenage farmboy on this dry, bright planet. Leaning backward to stretch his back, he felt his muscles moving, reminding him of his age. He wasn't old yet, but he was a lot stronger, if less energetic, than he had been as an eighteen-year-old boy with a bad case of wanderlust.
Across from him, Hanna drummed her fingers on the table. "I'm bored, Luke," she grumbled.
"I know. But be patient. Windy should be here any minute."
She sighed and put her head down in her folded arms. Luke shook his head. When would that girl learn? Eighteen, and still couldn't sit still for ten minutes at a time.
They both felt it at once. Anger, danger, radiated from a large human man at the bar. He was younger than Luke, gruff and--by his Force sense--dumb as a bantha. He was yelling at a small female bothen who apparently had cheated him in some business deal. He was ready to fight, but both Hanna and Luke knew that the little bothen would never be able to hold her own against him...
Luke looked to his niece. "You ready to be a guardian of peace and justice?" he asked.
Hanna considered. "By myself?"
Luke nodded. "You're ready. If you can almost beat me in a lightsaber duel, then you can handle this."
Hanna smiled mischievously. "No problem." She stood, stolid and focused. She walked in a straight line to the couple, and Luke watched from his distance, hand on his lightasber, just in case anything should go wrong.
Hanna looked too young. She was dressed in a loose, white, hooded tunic that hit at mid-thigh. She'd left her blaster pistol in her X-wing, and only her lightsaber hung from her black belt. Her pants were tight and sky-blue. Her boots matched her belt. The pale colors only accentuated her eyes and made her look innocent and venerable, the flowing tunic made her look pretty and young: sixteen, if that. And her height, or lack thereof, didn't help.
Swagger, Hanna, Luke thought at her. Swagger so you don't look so naive.
She didn't listen. Next time, Luke would make her carry her blaster, and conceal her lightsaber. And no more blue. Then she might look nineteen or so.
Luke watched intently. He couldn't hear what was going on, but he could see and feel. It seemed as if Hanna was making progress in settling the dispute--at least she had the human's attention--but then the man's Force-sense wavered. Before Luke could get there in time to help her, Hanna had already blocked a slap from him. But his next one hit her--hard. She fell to the ground. She wasn't hurt; she'd rolled to dampen the force of the blow.
Luke hoped he could talk some sense into the human before Hanna's hot head got the better of her. If he knew Hanna, she would be up in a split second, lightsaber at the ready. And then everyone in the whole blasted place would know who they were, and they'd have to leave. Fast.
He didn't have to worry. A tall gray-haired man, standing beside Hanna's attacker, was good enough to knock the man unconscious for hitting a young woman. He did it non-chalantly, as if his life work had been just to tap people on the shoulder and punch them in the face when they turned. Now the man looked down on his victim, making sure the coast was clear.
The strange thing was, Luke didn't figure it out until the man looked at him.
Hanna had gotten to her feet and was dusting herself off. Luke exchanged a glance with her, and he knew she was all right. Meanwhile, he had come to the man's side, looked upon the unconscious ruffian for a moment. "Thanks," he said to the man.
They both looked into each other's eyes at the same instant. Both were equally taken aback. Blue. Hazel. Luke's breath caught in his throat. The other man was just as stunned as he was. They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment. Hanna came and stood beside her uncle.
"I'm sorry I couldn't handle it, Luke," she said, unaware of what was taking place.
Luke blinked, finally able to unlock eyes with the other man. "Huh? Oh. Uh...don't worry about it, Hanna. You tried. It doesn't always work for me, either."
She nodded, still slightly disappointed with herself.
But at the mention of the girl's name, the other man turned towards her. She looked up to meet his eyes. And there they stood, for a long moment, seeing each other for the first time. They both new the other, instinctively. But the man still needed to ask the question.
He turned to Luke when he was finally capable. "Is that--?"
Luke nodded slowly, unable to speak. When Hanna turned to him with her unspoken question, Luke smiled at the ridiculousness of it all and shrugged helplessly.
The old man and the young woman looked each other over once more, then Hanna stammered, "I...I think I'll wait outside for Windy."
And before Luke could respond, she was out the door.
The man sat down on a bar-stool with a heavy sigh. After a moment, he regarded Luke again, trying to smile his roguish smile and joke like he used to. "She's a little spitfire."
Luke nodded, sitting beside him. He could tell they would have a long talk about this, and other things as well. It had been so long. "She is your daughter, Han."
It often amazed Luke how long it took for new things to reach the outer rim. In a corner of the dirty cantina, a bith band wailed on their instruments. They were still playing jizz wailer music--something very outdated in the core systems and more civilized systems like Courscant and Cardia. Luke listlessly listened to them play, remembering. It had been right there--right across the room, in that little booth over there--that he had first met Han Solo. Similar music had been playing. The room had been dark, like this. After coming inside, out of the harsh light from the twin stars, you could hardly see a thing. Actually, Luke doubted that the tables, bandstand, and bar had been changed any in the twenty-four years since that day. All of it looked out-dated, as if Luke had stepped back in time, back to being a teenage farmboy on this dry, bright planet. Leaning backward to stretch his back, he felt his muscles moving, reminding him of his age. He wasn't old yet, but he was a lot stronger, if less energetic, than he had been as an eighteen-year-old boy with a bad case of wanderlust.
Across from him, Hanna drummed her fingers on the table. "I'm bored, Luke," she grumbled.
"I know. But be patient. Windy should be here any minute."
She sighed and put her head down in her folded arms. Luke shook his head. When would that girl learn? Eighteen, and still couldn't sit still for ten minutes at a time.
They both felt it at once. Anger, danger, radiated from a large human man at the bar. He was younger than Luke, gruff and--by his Force sense--dumb as a bantha. He was yelling at a small female bothen who apparently had cheated him in some business deal. He was ready to fight, but both Hanna and Luke knew that the little bothen would never be able to hold her own against him...
Luke looked to his niece. "You ready to be a guardian of peace and justice?" he asked.
Hanna considered. "By myself?"
Luke nodded. "You're ready. If you can almost beat me in a lightsaber duel, then you can handle this."
Hanna smiled mischievously. "No problem." She stood, stolid and focused. She walked in a straight line to the couple, and Luke watched from his distance, hand on his lightasber, just in case anything should go wrong.
Hanna looked too young. She was dressed in a loose, white, hooded tunic that hit at mid-thigh. She'd left her blaster pistol in her X-wing, and only her lightsaber hung from her black belt. Her pants were tight and sky-blue. Her boots matched her belt. The pale colors only accentuated her eyes and made her look innocent and venerable, the flowing tunic made her look pretty and young: sixteen, if that. And her height, or lack thereof, didn't help.
Swagger, Hanna, Luke thought at her. Swagger so you don't look so naive.
She didn't listen. Next time, Luke would make her carry her blaster, and conceal her lightsaber. And no more blue. Then she might look nineteen or so.
Luke watched intently. He couldn't hear what was going on, but he could see and feel. It seemed as if Hanna was making progress in settling the dispute--at least she had the human's attention--but then the man's Force-sense wavered. Before Luke could get there in time to help her, Hanna had already blocked a slap from him. But his next one hit her--hard. She fell to the ground. She wasn't hurt; she'd rolled to dampen the force of the blow.
Luke hoped he could talk some sense into the human before Hanna's hot head got the better of her. If he knew Hanna, she would be up in a split second, lightsaber at the ready. And then everyone in the whole blasted place would know who they were, and they'd have to leave. Fast.
He didn't have to worry. A tall gray-haired man, standing beside Hanna's attacker, was good enough to knock the man unconscious for hitting a young woman. He did it non-chalantly, as if his life work had been just to tap people on the shoulder and punch them in the face when they turned. Now the man looked down on his victim, making sure the coast was clear.
The strange thing was, Luke didn't figure it out until the man looked at him.
Hanna had gotten to her feet and was dusting herself off. Luke exchanged a glance with her, and he knew she was all right. Meanwhile, he had come to the man's side, looked upon the unconscious ruffian for a moment. "Thanks," he said to the man.
They both looked into each other's eyes at the same instant. Both were equally taken aback. Blue. Hazel. Luke's breath caught in his throat. The other man was just as stunned as he was. They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment. Hanna came and stood beside her uncle.
"I'm sorry I couldn't handle it, Luke," she said, unaware of what was taking place.
Luke blinked, finally able to unlock eyes with the other man. "Huh? Oh. Uh...don't worry about it, Hanna. You tried. It doesn't always work for me, either."
She nodded, still slightly disappointed with herself.
But at the mention of the girl's name, the other man turned towards her. She looked up to meet his eyes. And there they stood, for a long moment, seeing each other for the first time. They both new the other, instinctively. But the man still needed to ask the question.
He turned to Luke when he was finally capable. "Is that--?"
Luke nodded slowly, unable to speak. When Hanna turned to him with her unspoken question, Luke smiled at the ridiculousness of it all and shrugged helplessly.
The old man and the young woman looked each other over once more, then Hanna stammered, "I...I think I'll wait outside for Windy."
And before Luke could respond, she was out the door.
The man sat down on a bar-stool with a heavy sigh. After a moment, he regarded Luke again, trying to smile his roguish smile and joke like he used to. "She's a little spitfire."
Luke nodded, sitting beside him. He could tell they would have a long talk about this, and other things as well. It had been so long. "She is your daughter, Han."