Disclaimer: More of the same. Characters belong to George Lucas, and I don't make any money off of these stories. I'm paid in the occasionalreview, and in seeing my work up on the net for anyone to find. This is the last chapter of this story, and the next installment, probably called As the World Falls Down, is on its way.


Six: Excitement, Adventure, and Really Wild Stuff

Luke was coldly furious. "You will be staying with me, as per our deal."

"Like hell I am, kid! I'm not leaving here without Chewie, and I sure as hell ain't leaving my ship on a doomed station!"

Luke laughed coldly. "How much of a chance do you think these Rebels have? They've started attacking the Death Star with X-wings!"

"I'm not takin' any chances. If you're smart you'll come with me." Han was storming around the room, trying to pack belongings before realizing he had nothing of value in the room.

"They'll--we'll kill you!"

"That's a risk I'll just have to take." He started out into the crowded Hall, but Luke chased after him and clamped onto his arm. "You are staying with me."

"Then welcome to the Millennium Falcon and enjoy your trip." Han fixed Luke with a lopsided smile.

Luke flagged down a passing officer, apparently of some import. "Where is my father?"

"He asks that you join him on the man bridge to see the attack, and then that you leave the station."

"Do they have that much of a chance?" Luke asked incredulously, choosing to ignore Han's smug smile.

"Lord Vadar does not wish to take any chances, Lord Starkiller."

"I see. Come, Han." He pulled on Han's arm and led him, protesting to the bridge.

Han did not feel this was the best plan. He had a smuggler's intuition, and every sense was tingling with the anticipation of disaster. Time to leave. But somehow, he ended up on the bridge at Luke's side, watching little specs of X-wings dodging fighters and occasionally disappearing in a blast like a firework.

Luke laughed softly at Tarkin's side. "For this they want to evacuate us. For these pathetic fighters. What do they have against us?"

Tarkin was silent, but seemed to be in agreement with Luke's appraisal of the situation.

"Where is my father?" Luke asked again, looking at the officer.

"I have just been informed that he has gone to his personal TIE fighter."

This sparked Han's tingling senses. "Eh-what?" he muttered aloud. Something's up if Vadar is fighting personally.

"Lord Starkiller, we must get you to the ship," the officer protested. His air of authority gone, he suddenly looked young and painfully inexperienced. And to Han, the tiny legion of Rebel fighters seemed suddenly seemed more powerful than anyone else on the Death Star could imagine.

Han looked over to Luke, and could see that he too suddenly understood the frailty of the station they were standing in. "I'll need a moment," he said softly, "to gather some things."

He left hastily, with a determined step obviously meant to hide his anxiety. Han darted after him.

Get out of here, Solo, Han told himself, grab Chewie and run. What are you doing chasing down some kid? But he knew he'd developed a loyalty to Luke, and the Corillian sense of loyalty is an irresistible impulse--it was like he was telling himself not to breathe.

So instead, he followed Luke down the hall, swearing and demanding they find Chewie and jet now.

Luke didn't reply, and didn't even acknowledge his presence until they were outside of the room that had been their home. "If there's anything you need," he said, "get it now. Material comforts will be supplied by the crew of the ship."

"Nah, they'll be taken care of by what's on the Falcon. I'm not going with you, remember?"

Luke sighed deeply, and discreetly palmed the battered holo of his family off of the table. He tucked it into his pocket, and Han felt it wiser not to comment.

"I'm gonna go find Chewie--see you in the next life, kid." Han extended his hand. Luke shook it solemnly.

"You've been a good friend, Han Solo. Thank you."

"No time for the mushy stuff, kid. Where d'you think they'd stick a Wookie?" A sense of urgency was slowly creeping into Han's voice, much against his wishes.

"Check the detention block." Luke turned briskly and started off with a military precision, but Han pulled him back.

"Detention block? Where the hell is that?"

"This way," Luke grumbled, leading him at a run down the corridors and lifts to the center of the station. He would be sorry to see the Corillian go--it was strange to consider that, prior to meeting him, he could not imagine so close a connection not formed by blood, and now could not imagine living without it.

"Han--!" he called frantically, before realizing he had even spoken.

"What?" Han was studying each cell, opening every door he could and liberating whoever was inside.

Luke opened his mouth, but nothing came out. "I-well--"

"Make your point fast, kid." They could hear Chewbacca behind the door, but the lock was stuck. "We're running out of time." He exploded into the profanity of four major languages, kicking the door violently.

Luke closed his eyes and flicked his wrist with a look of concentration. Protesting, the mechanism broke and the door slid lazily forward.

Chewbacca moaned loudly and rushed to the door.

"C'mon, pal, we're breaking out of this place." The Wookie showed no signs of moving, and instead protested loudly.

"What the hell are you stalling for?" Han cried.

"Please don't tell me it wants to stay..." Luke whispered in alarmed exasperation. The situation around them was increasingly frantic.

Chewie groaned and snarled at Han.

"Alright, go get her," Han yelled, rolling his eyes, "meet us at the Falcon!"

"Us!" Luke spat, "What us? We're not leaving together!"

Han dragged Luke back toward the docking bay, spitting with frustration. "Leave him alone for a few days and suddenly he finds some female he just can't bear to leave without...!"

"Are there others of his kind on board?" Luke's question was genuinely curious.

"You don't notice much, do you, kid? Wookies built this bloody thing. They'd still be building it if it wasn't approaching its death throws."

"Don't be absurd," Luke muttered, but the arrogant confidence in the technology of the Empire was fleeting.

"Trust me kid, smugglers and womp-rats know when something's about to go down."

They reached the docking bay at a frantic run, and there was the Millennium Falcon, like a battered light at the end of a long tunnel Han had been trapped in. She was freedom, she was liberty, and she was all his once again.

But a young officer in Imperial drab beckoned Luke toward a Star Destroyer, pulling him from where he had clamped his hand on Han's arm.

"C'mon, kid," Han said, his eyes locked with Luke's. "You're life's so closely cared for. It's like-uh--"

"A garden." Luke's eyes were glazed, and he was obviously somewhere else.

"Yeah," Han said, "a garden. Get out--go pick wildflowers or something!" Ah hell, he was horrid with metaphors, and he could feel any chance he had of grabbing this kid slipping away...

"Why?" Luke asked. His doubt was almost tangible--no matter how much he talked about wanting his freedom, Han suddenly understood--this was all he knew.

"I can't teach you your Force stuff or anything neat like that, but I can give you what you've always wanted. Excitement. Adventure." He paused. "And some really wild stuff."

Han reached forward and, holding his breath, Luke grabbed it.