Missing
IV.
Leia hesitated a moment before slipping the key into its slot. She pushed the side button and the door to Luke's quarters slid open. The first thing she noticed was the unmade bed and she smiled to herself; Luke had overslept that morning, the morning of the mission. It had taken Wedge over ten minutes to wake him by hammering on the door. Han was to blame, of course; he had been teaching Luke trick shots with a blaster into the early hours. Maybe that's why he didn't come back; maybe he had been too tired, hadn't been concentrating, and had made a slip that cost him his life.
The Princess shook herself, shedding her thoughts as she placed the small box she was carrying on the bunk. The domestic droids had obeyed her command and had left a large crate for the majority of Luke's belongings. Her box was for his more treasured possessions ones that she wanted to keep, that she didn't want sent into storage to be passed on to new recruits.
She had been told this chore wasn't necessary, that the domestic droids would save her the trouble; but she had wanted to do it. It seemed insensitive for the droids to clear all traces of her friend from his room, to prepare it for its next inhabitant.
Leia looked around the room, not knowing where to start. She pulled open the nearest drawer and found it full of neatly-folded shirts. Picking them out, she placed them in the crate, trying not to think of the young, live body which once wore them. She had only known Luke for a few months, but those months were enough to grow to love him. Who wouldn't love someone who rushed into your cell, telling you, "I'm Luke Skywalker. I'm here to rescue you." Such enthusiasm, such verve. That was Luke.
After that little episode the whole group of them grew close. If you saw one then, nearby you would find the others.
She opened the closets and took out Luke's spare flight suit and fatigues. She was surprised to find his Tatooine farm clothes; but then, they were the only things he had from his previous life there, the only things to remind him of home. She added these items to the shirts already in the crate. As she lifted the sheets from the bed, she was surprised to discovered his lightsabre hidden under the bed clothes. Luke really must have been in a hurry if he left his beloved weapon behind; he carried it everywhere with him.
"It was my father's," he had said with pride. "Ben gave it to me. He was going to train me, but I guess Vader put an end to that." He had looked at the sabre in his hand, his voice quiet and subdued. "A couple of days ago, I never knew anything about him, not even his name. Now I know he killed my father, his troops killed my aunt and uncle, and I saw him kill Ben. Why does he have to destroy everything?"
Leia had taken his hand in hers and spoken softly, telling him what she told herself. "That's why we're fighting them, to put an end to their destruction, and to rebuild what they've destroyed."
"You can't rebuild dead people," he had replied softly, sadly.
Leia placed the sabre carefully in the small box. She moved to clear the bedside table. An illegal history holo-tape about Jedi Knights sat next to Luke's comb. It disturbed her to see strands of blond hair still between the teeth. On a memo pad, written in Luke's scrawl, was a reminder to send Artoo to maintenance; one of his treads had been sticking. It was that message that had saved the little droid from the same fate as his master. She put the holo, the comb and the memo pad in with the Jedi weapon.
Her eyes followed the path of bright exotic ornaments along the top of his console. Luke liked brightly-coloured things. Whenever they were together on another planet, one which was alien to Luke, he would drag them off to the markets. Inevitably, they would hear his cry of, "I've never seen one of those before!" Out would come the money pouch, and another trinket would be added to his growing collection. Leia picked them up one-by-one, to place them in her smaller box. She remembered each one, and the moment they were bought: the Xalan dancer, purchased in the open market, was the first of the collection; the Verquan Warrior mask, the second. As she picked up the newest addition, a small musical box from Garthen, it occurred to her that the collection would grow no more.
ooOOoo
Han Solo yawned as he shut down the engines of the Millennium Falcon. Another routine supply run over, and another carbon score on the hull of his beloved ship. One side of his mouth curled into half a grin. The trip hadn't been completely boring; and he'd managed to procure a much promised girt for Luke.
"That's it, Chewie." He nudged his dozing partner. "I'll find the deck officer, and then you can start unloading, while I report into Her Royalness."
Chewie growled, deeply.
"Yeah, well you slept most of the trip," Han stripped off his gloves and looked around the cockpit. "Did you see what I did with that blaster?"
Chewie jerked his large thumb toward the passenger compartment.
Han found the weapon resting upon the holo-game board. He grinned as he imagined Luke's face; the kid was going to love this! Han had always said Luke should have a good blaster at his side; now he was going to have one of the best, complete with new holster, of course. Putting a new blaster in an old holster was like putting new wine in an old skin: just not the done thing. The gun might make it up to Luke for missing the trip. Han knew he must have been pissed at missing Sandren, another new world to him. Still, Han had a few stories to tell him.
As the ramp of the Falcon lowered to allow him exit, Han tucked the weapon under his arm. The deck officer ran toward him.
"Captain Solo, welcome back."
Han grunted. "Chewie's up there. Princess Leia in the command centre?"
"Yes, sir."
Han strode off without another word. He'd deal with Leia first, then find the kid. They could have more target practice. Thing was, Luke was good; Han decided it was just beginner's luck. The door of the command centre swept open and he looked around for the princess. Frowning at her absence he tapped the shoulder of a nearby officer, who was monitoring the X-wing patrols. "Where is she?"
The man looked up sharply. "Solo!"
"Yeah, who else?"
"I - You're back early."
"So?"
"Nothing, but -"
"Where is she?" Han gestured at the room.
"Lieutenant Sky walker's quarters."
"Oh." He paused for a moment. "What's she doing there?"
The officer turned back to his read-outs. "She's--"
"No, don't tell me." He gave a wicked grin. "I'll find out!"
ooOOoo
Han stopped outside Luke's room and rested his head against the door, listening as hard as he could. There was silence from beyond the partition and he was of two minds. Should he go in, or go away, report to the general, and see the kid later? Han's respect for Luke rose a notch; the kid sure didn't waste any time. Once Han was away for a while he'd pounced! He thought about this for a moment. Maybe Luke missed the supply run on purpose, the sneaky little devil!
A satisfied smile rose on Han's lips as he came to his decision. He'd go in, but without knocking. He would enjoy the look on Leia's face if he caught them; she'd never liveit down. He gleefully punched the side button and the door slid silently open. Han jumped into the room.
"Gotcha!"
Leia dropped one of the small ornaments in shock; she whirled to face the intruder and instantly recognized him. "Han!"
"Right the first time." He was surprised to find her alone. Perhaps Luke was in the fresher?
"I - You -"
"'Nice to see you, Han. You're back early. I hope nothing went wrong. How are you? Were you shot at? Were you damaged? How's Chewie? Are you—?" Han broke off as he spotted the crates marked with Luke's name, and the tears in Leia's eyes. "What's goin' on?"
"Luke--" The name stuck in her throat, and she couldn't say it, could not tell him.
"Luke?" Han frowned, immediately knowing what she was trying to tell him. Thick grief settled around him. It was a foreign feeling, an uncomfortable feeling. He cleared his throat. "He's dead?"
Leia nodded, not trusting her own voice, watching a myriad of feelings cross the Corellian's face. Finally he settled on one and his features darkened.
Han took the blaster and holster from under his arm. "I brought him a blaster; I always said he should have a good one..." He tossed it onto the bed and snapped, "put it with the rest of his stuff." He turned and stormed from the room, not understanding his emotions. He was angry, furious and he didn't know why.
"Han!" Leia called after him, wanting him to return. Wanting to support him, wanting him to support her. Distraught, but trying to control her grief, she turned to clutch the edge of the console. The light shone on an object above her, and she glanced up at the wall. Hanging there, crudely pinned up, was Luke's medal.