AN: Thank you once more for the kind feedback. You're all very kind. I do feel a little embarrassed at times posting this fic, I did write it when I was 18 (many many years ago) and still cringe at some scenes... despite "maturing" some of it... : )
This chapter is a little longer than the earlier ones, and we're back with Luke. I know that, thus far, the story has been pretty tame - but the "M" rating is for violentevents in later chapters.
Thanks for reading...
A previous disclaimers apply...
Missing
X.
"...In bed," Mhari finished, as she helped Ryder pick himself off the floor and back onto bed. He settled against the pillows, feeling foolish. He glanced at her from the side of his eyes, waiting for the ticking-off that always followed when she found him out of bed and sprawled on the floor. He didn't have to wait long.
"Maybe after this, you'll do as you're told and stop behaving like a child! When you're told to stay put, you stay put!"
"But Mhari…" Ryder started, immediately on the defensive.
"Aunt Mhari," she reminded him, sternly.
He rolled his eyes. "Aunt Mhari….." he conceded and then continued. ""I only wanted to see if I could manage on my own. You said I could get up today, and--"
She fluffed up his pillows for him, annoyed. "After finding you on the floor again, I don't think you're quite ready yet!"
"Aw, come on! You said I could," he whined, disappointed. "Denrick Janis told me I could get up two days after the surgery; that was days ago! My side hardly hurts at all, and my ankle is only weak because you won't let me up to exercise it." He had begun to sulk now. "And you said I could join you all for dinner."
Mhari felt her annoyance dissolve and her hardened attitude crumbled under her adoptive-nephew's pleading stare. She laughed. "Okay, you win. I'll bring through some clothes, and when Alex gets back I'll get him to help you through to the kitchen."
Ryder grinned. "Thanks, Mha…. Aunt Mhari. "
"And I thought I had trouble with Brett," shegrumbled to herself, as she departed to hunt some of Alex's clothes for him to wear.
Alone once more, Ryder reached for Tamara's book,that rested on the table next to his bed. Idly he flicked through its pages, pausing every now and then to read a passage or two. It looked quite interesting, but it was the last of the series and he didn't want to read then end before he knew what happened at the start. He placed it back on the table.
He relaxed in bed, beginning to enjoy its warmth now that he'd been given clearance to get out of it. All he had to do was wait patiently until Uncle Alex got back, then...
He smiled, laughing silently to himself. After only a few days of being awake and coherent he was already finding it easy to call Alex and Mhari his uncle and aunt. It had been awkward at first; several times he had called them Owen and Beru. But now... well, they no longer felt like strangers, and they did treat him like one of the family. He was even getting used to his new name, Ryder Lasjow, and found himself answering to it more quickly when someone called him.
It was surprising how quickly you could grow to care for people when you were suddenly thrown together. He would be forever grateful to then for risking their lives to save him and care for him. He hoped one day he could repay them, and not bring them grief as he had with his aunt and uncle on Tatooine. If he hadn't taken Artoo's restraining bolt off he would have been there when the storm troopers arrived.
And you would have died….
He turned his gaze to the window as he heard Mhari shout for Brett. He was glad his thoughts had been interrupted, but he dearly hoped his aunt wouldn't send the boy his way. Brett he could do without for now. The five year old seemed to take great delight in annoying his older cousin. He'd even put a small reptile under the bed clothes as Ryder caught an afternoon nap. It had almost cost him a relapse! He had grown fond of the little tyke, though; even enjoyed playing with his blasted computer games, although he lost most of the time. He decided he'd have to review the Alliance attack and defence patterns; several of them had failed against a child's game.
"Hi, Ryder!" Brett dashed into the room.
"Hey, Corellian!" Ryder was deliberately cheerful, although inside he was cursing Mhari for sending the boy in. "How's it goin'?"
"We gonna play tonight?" Brett brought a game out from behind his back and shook it in front of Ryder's face.
Inwardly, Ryder groaned. "I don't know, kid. Tamara was wanting to--"
"Brett!" Both of them turned at Mhari's shout, "Are you bothering Ryder again? Come out of there and let him rest."
"Maybe later, okay, Brett?" Ryder could have kissed his aunt for shouting.
The younger boy nodded sullenly and slipped from the room, leaving Ryder breathing a sigh of relief; what he didn't need was yet another dent in his ego.
His door opened once more, and a bundle of clothing landed on his head. The buckle of a belt struck his chin. "Ow!" He pulled the clothes off and stared up, into Tamara's grin.
"Sorry," she apologized, in a voice that hinted that she wasn't sorry at all. "Mom said you needed these."
"Thanks." He opened the shirt out; it looked massive.
Her voice turned husky as she asked, "You think you'll need my help getting into them?" She raised her eyebrows; a coy smile hovered on her lips.
Ryder made a play of considering her offer. He shook his head. "No, I think I can manage."
"Aw!" she sighed with mock disappointment, and grinned again. "You were more fun when you were unconscious. "
He frowned, blushing furiously.
"Your accent's getting better," she complimented him, laughing at his reaction.
"You think so?" He hoped so. They had spent hours together trying to get him to speak with the Irlami dialect and accent. If he couldn't master the way people spoke here, then his cover would be broken the first time he opened his mouth in public.
"Yes. Mom said you were almost perfect this afternoon; said you sounded exactly like Brett does when he complains. How did she phrase it?" She gave the pretence of searching her memory. '"A right little whiner,'" she laughed.
Ryder was not amused. "Thanks a lot!"
"No, really, she did say you were getting a lot better. Besides, remember what Dad said? He said that it would improve naturally." She watched him throw back the bed covers. "You sure you don't want help? I could get Dad."
"It's okay; I can dress myself," he told her dryly. "I don't think I've forgotten how."
"Okay. I'll see you in a little while." She closed the door, giving him some privacy.
Slowly, carefully, not wanting to hurt himself, he eased his legs over the side of the bed and sat on its edge. Gently, he pulled off his bed clothes, wincing as he irritated his side wound. He reached for the clothes Tamara had thrown at him, and drew on the shirt. The sleeves hung down over his hands, and he sat for a moment flapping his arms allowing the extra inches of fabric to flop about before he smiled and rolled it up.
Pulling on the pants proved to be a little more difficult; he had to avoid hurting both his side and his ankle. He tried lying down; it didn't work. He tried standing up; and fell on the bed. In the end, he sat on the edge of the mattress and drew the trousers up to his knees; then he shifted to first one side and then the other, pulling the material up over his thighs. He finished the job by leaning on the bedside table. He tucked the excess shirt tail into the trousers and held everything in place by tightening the belt.
The door swung open and Alex chuckled at the sight of the boy dressed in clothes several sizes too large for him. "You're smaller than I thought," he told him as he helped him to his feet. "Looks like we'll have to make an early visit to town; get you some clothes you can wear."
Ryder tripped on the trailing fabric of the pants… "Good."
"You hungry?"
"Famished!"
"That's a good sign. " Alex took a firm grip on his nephew's arm. Ryder leaned on him, and together they limped through to the dining room.
ooOOoo
"I think we're going to have a good year this year, Mhari," Alex placed his knife next to his empty plate and sat back in his chair, waiting for dessert. "Might even afford to buy ourselves a droid for next year, lighten the work load." He reached over and lightly slapped his son's wrists. "Brett, don't pick your nose at the table." The farmer looked over at his nephew as the boy struggled to force the last remnants of his meal down his throat. "Tell me, Ryder, do you know anything about farms?"
Ryder hesitated in mid-chew. "A little, sir," he answered cautiously.
"Good."
Tamara flashed Ryder an "I told you so" look across the table as her mother dished out the pudding.
Ryder was enjoying himself. This meal had been like no other he had ever eaten. He hadn't had home cooking since he'd left Tatooine, and he'd never had a family dinner like this. This was something new, something different, a totally novel experience, and he was loving it. So perhaps it wasn't as lively as his meals in the base mess had been; but the food was far superior and there were no foul habits here to put one off eating. He glanced at Brett whose finger was firmly wedge up a nostril once more; well, not so many, anyway. The banter was different, too. Here there was no talk of the Empire, no talk of death. Here you didn't look across from you and find an empty seat where a friend once sat.
He laughed to himself as Brett reached out for a second helping of dessert. Where did he put it all? He was having a hard time with his first serving. He burped, loudly.
There was a short, sudden silence, as all eyes turned to look at him. Ryder flushed, giving a sickly, apologetic smile. Brett giggled behind his spoon.
Alex slapped the youth on the shoulder, laughing. "Boy sure knows how to show his appreciation of good food, eh, Mhari?"
"I'm pleased he enjoyed it." Mhari lifted Tamara's empty plate and placed it on top of her own. "Would you like some more, Ryder?"
"Oh, no, ma'am; that was great." He patted his stomach, feeling bloated. He turned to Alex. "Sir, I was thinking…" he shot a hesitant glance at Mhari, knowing she wouldn't like what he was about to ask. "…I was wondering if there was anything I could do; I've been pretty bored, and I thought maybe tomorrow…"
Mhari didn't look pleased. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."
"I'm fine; I…" Ryder tried to protest as he lifted his glass of water.
"Mhari, give the boy a chance." Alex responded on Ryder's behalf. "If he wants to do something, then let him. I won't do him any good being cooped up in the house. Besides I could use the help." He turned to the grateful boy "You know anything about mechanics?"
"Sure. I'm pretty good at fixing things."
"Well, we've got a dud speeder."
Ryder took a long drink from his glass, and then smiled. "Sounds like the one I had back home." he didn't notice Alex's frown. "What's the problem with it?"
"Fuel-injection system's clogged. I can't get it out to replace it."
"I think I could handle that. What make?"
Tamara and Mhari rose from the table, exchanging "men!" glances as they set about clearing up. Brett ignored everyone as he polished off the remaining pudding.
"Old XP make," Alex answered Ryder's question. "Twenty-three, I think."
Ryder's surprise was genuine. "You're kidding!"
Alex shook his head.
"Mine was a twenty-nine. Sand played havoc with the engine. I'll see what I can do with it."
The farmer was pleased. "I'll get the manual, show you what's wrong." He heaved himself from his chair.
Tamara watched her father leave the room. She slipped her hand into her pocket, fingering its contents. She bit her lip, a little unsure. "Ryder?" She held the object out to him. "I found this; I thought it might be yours."
Mhari and Brett both looked over in interest as a large smile broke over Ryder's face. He stared at the holo-picture in his hand.
"Who is it?" Mhari asked, curious in spite of herself.
Without thinking, Ryder answered, "The Princess Leia."
Mhari's eyes widened at the casual mention of the young Rebel princess. "Organa?"
He nodded absently, forgetting Alex's warning. "She's a good friend."
"You have friends in high places."
Ryder laughed. "I've got friends in low places, too." He thought briefly of Han. "You wouldn't believe the mixture of worlds and cultures that makes up the Alliance. We have—"
"Ryder!"
They all turned at the sudden shout from the doorway. Ryder quickly slipped the holo into his pocket. He turned his gaze to the empty table top, knowing he was about to be dragged over the carpet.
"Tamara, Brett, to your rooms!" Alex didn't take his eyes from the Rebel.
"But why?" Brett moaned; he enjoyed a good row, as long as it wasn't him that was in trouble.
"Go!"
Brett realised that now was not the time to argue. He obediently hopped off his stool and followed Tamara from the room. Mhari disappeared into the kitchen, leaving the two men alone.
Alex slammed the speeder manual on the table. Ryder jumped.
"I thought I had made it quite clear that you were not to discuss your past." Alex's voice was quiet, but his anger was cutting.
Shamed faced, Ryder answered. "I'm sorry; I forgot…"
"You must understand it's for your own safety as well as ours. Idle talk can get people into trouble."
"I said I was sorry," Ryder spoke tersely. "What more do you want?"
"What good is 'sorry,' going to be when the Imperial troops arrive for you? You must learn to control what you say. Think hard before you open your mouth."
"But it was only…"
"I don't care what 'it was only.' I have a family to protect. I told you before; we don't want to know anything about you." Hurt showed plainly on Ryder's features. "We don't want to get involved."
Ryder nodded slowly; how many times had he heard that in the past? "You sound just like my Uncle Owen."
"I don't want to know about your uncle."
For the first time, the boy met Alex's gaze; his blue eyes blazing with anger and grief. When he spoke his voice shook with suppressed emotion. "Well, you're gonna know. He was a farmer like you, who didn't want to ''get involved' with anything. And you know what happened to him?" Tears were swelling, spilling down Ryder's pale cheeks. He didn't give Alex time to respond. "He was murdered - him and my aunt, all because he bought a couple of droids who had been owned by the Rebellion."
"That doesn't concern us," Alex told him softly, feeling pity now instead of fury.
"Maybe it should!" Ryder's voice rose slightly in pitch. He stood to face the larger man. "Like you, he thought if he sat around on his backside, then no-one would bother him, upset his simple little life. But things change. One of these days, you might just have to fight for your little plot of dirt. I hope you're man enough to get involved then, you…"
Alex lashed out striking the youth across the face. The slap stopped Ryder mid-sentence and he realised that he'd insulted the farmer. His hand went to hold his stinging cheek.
The noise brought Mhari running. "That's enough!" she barked at them both.
Alex turned away, ashamed he'd lost his temper; sorry he'd struck the youth.
Mhari turned to the hurt boy. "Ryder, perhaps you should go and rest. Calm yourself down."
Stiffly, he turned from them, Alex reached out to help him, but Ryder shrugged him off. "Don't touch me! " He held his side as he limped from the room.
Deeply concerned, Mhari watched him leave before turning to her husband. "I think we should talk."
ooOOoo
Tamara stood listening just within her open bedroom door. She caught her breath at the loud sharp crack of flesh striking flesh, knowing her father's fragile temper had snapped. The shouting abruptly ceased and the voices were low. She heard the kitchen door open and close and a muffled thud as something landed on the hall floor. She peeked around her door and saw Ryder lying on the floor clutching his side and hissing in pain.
As she went to his aid he tried to get up by himself, determined to go it alone, not want to lose face in front of her.
"Are you okay?" she asked, bending down to help him.
"I can manage," he answered her through gritted teeth. "Leave me alone."
Not listening to him, she slid her arm through his and helped him to his feet and through to his room. There she sat him on the bed and closed the door behind them. "Are you sure you're all right?"
"Never felt better." Angry sarcasm tinged his words.
She smiled at his "hurt little boy" look. "If Mom could see you now, you wouldn't get to work on that speeder tomorrow."
"Yeah? Well, your mother's got no authority over me."
The belittlement of her mother sparked Tamara's own anger. "Who do you think has done everything for you? Show a little gratitude."
He looked up at her his mood softening somewhat. "I'm sorry, Tama; I didn't mean that."
She sat beside. "I know. But you need to understand dad. He's scared; he'd never admit it, but he is. We're all scared, Ryder, and not just for ourselves but for you too."
He stared out of the window toward the forest. Night was falling. "Maybe you should have left me out there. I've brought you all too much trouble; put you all in too much danger. If anything were to happen... it would be my fault." His voice was heavy, sad.
Hesitantly, she took his hand. "Don't talk like that." She looked into his eyes, seeing mild surprise there, and an unspoken question. "I'm glad I found you. We've all grown to... to care for you. To Mom and Dad, you're their nephew, no one else." She laughed softly. "And I don't think Brett could survive without his big cousin. And I..." She turned her eyes away from him. "I… I've got someone I can talk to. That's why Dad flew off the reactor; he cares for you, he's got someone to help around the farm, someone who knows and understands what he talks about. You saw the look on his face when he went for the manual; he was enjoying himself."
Her words reminded him of something. "The manual." He gently took his hand from hers, his. "I left it on the table. I'll need it to fix that darned speeder."
Tamara smiled as he returned to the dining room, knowing he was going back to apologize.
Ryder shuffled down the corridor holding onto the wall for support, wondering what had just happened between him and Tamara; whatever it was subtle, quiet and would remain unacknowledged for now. He reached the kitchen and paused with his hand on the door handle, as muffled voices came from the room. He pulled his hand away, deciding not to interrupt their conversation. He'd get the book later; he didn't want to cause any more trouble. But he faltered as their words caused a chill to nestle within him.
"Go easy on him, Alex. He's still feeling strange."
To Ryder, it sounded as though Mhari was picking her words carefully, not wanting to re-kindle her husband's anger.
"He has to be more careful…" There was a pause; either that or Alex had crossed the room to where Ryder couldn't hear him. Then; "Perhaps we were wrong to take him in."
Ryder's heart froze, fearing what he would hear next.
"Perhaps we should have reported him to the authorities."
Were they that scared! Would they turn him in now?
"Alex!" Mhari sounded shocked. "You were the one who said saving him was our contribution to the rebellion; don't you ever forget that."
"I know, Mhari; but I have doubts now. I look at Brett and Tamara and I find myself wondering if we did the right thing. Maybe it would be best if asked him to give himself up, and…"
Ryder leaned against the wall, light-headed with fear. They make him well, only to request that he go to his death? Bile rose in his throat; he felt sick, he felt betrayed.
"I don't want to hear anymore, Alex. You're talking nonsense! One little slip from the boy and you panic. Okay, so you want to protect this family; well, Ryder's part of this family now. And don't you forget it!"
There was a long silence. Ryder held his breath.
"You're right, Mhari; I'm sorry," Alex's voice was quieter, chastened.
Relief flooded Ryder's fearful heart, but the doubt would always be there now. He had to show Alex that he was sorry, give the farmer some reassurance, let him know that he meant no harm to the family, let them all know that he would do nothing to endanger them. Drawing on his courage, he knocked softly on the door before opening it.
There was an awkward silence as he entered the room. Even if he hadn't overheard them, he would still have known that they had been talking about him. He hoped his fear didn't show on his face as much as their shame showed on theirs.
He gestured at the speeder manual. "I, uh, left the manual." Alex handed it to him, and he nodded his thanks. He looked to them both. "I'm sorry for what I said; I—" He stammered uncomfortably. "I want you to know that I'm grateful to you, and I — well, I'll watch my mouth in the future."
Alex nodded, accepting his apology. "The sooner you get that, vehicle repaired, the sooner you get into town for some clothes that'll fit you. Don't take too long, though; Brett also needs some outfits for school resuming next week, and Mhari needs her groceries and--"
"Okay, okay," Ryder laughed, holding his hands up to stop Alex from going on, glad of the farmer's attempt at humour to break the awkwardness of the moment. "I get the message! It shouldn't take that long."
ooOOoo
Brett shifted his bottom on the cold, oil-stained concrete floor of the garage, regretting his agreement to help Ryder fix the speeder. It had been fun at first, handing the tools to him, holding the occasional wire for him, bringing him a drink when he got thirsty. But it got a little bit tiring after three days. He had said the speeder would be easy to fix, so what was taking so long? The five-year-old sighed the heavy sigh of boredom. He'd rather be out playing space pirates with his gun belt. He looked at his cousin's feet sticking out from under the- stricken vehicle, and giggled at the curse that floated to his ears. Should he tell Ryder about the belt? He had told him many of his secrets, like how to chase the herd without getting caught (except when Ryder did it they were caught), or where to find the best mud to make pies for throwing at Tamara. He'd even shown Ryder his secret den in the big tree in the east field. But should he tell him about the gun belt?
There was a small metallic clank from under the speeder as Ryder dropped a spanner.
"Hey, Corellian?"
Brett smiled at the nickname Ryder had given him. Corellians, Ryder had told him, were the best star pilots in the Galaxy.
"Hand me the wrench will ya? This valve's stuck."
The small boy complied, peering under the speeder as he handed over the implement. He watched his cousin wrestle with the valve; a drop of oil dripped from the vehicle's belly onto Ryder's clothes, adding yet another stain for Mhari to moan at as she washed them.
"Brett, I can't see; could you turn the light a bit to the left?"
He did as he was asked; hoping Ryder was going to play with him after this was done.
"Thanks."
There was a short period of grunting as Ryder fought to turn the valve, followed by a short period of hammering as Ryder decided to kill the damned thing. The valve gave way.
"Oh shit!" Ryder roared, as he rolled too late to avoid the thick black stream of oil that poured from the open tube. He stood, letting the fluid drip from his shirt and face. He shook his arms, spattering oil onto the floor.
Brett doubled over, giggling in delight as Ryder opened his eyes and blinked, revealing the only white area visible on his face, He coughed, spat oil from his mouth and reached for the rag he's left on the work top.
"Well, look at you."
He glanced up to find Tamara standing in the doorway, with a smug grin on her face.
"Taking an oil bath, are we! She asked, trailing her eyes up and down his body. "What do you think you are? A droid or something? "
"Ha Ha," he responded, dryly.
"You look better like that. Black hair suits you."
He smiled a sarcastic "thank you" as a gleam of mischief sparkled in his eyes. He gave an evil chuckle and lifted his goo-covered hands.
She backed away as Brett watched, enjoying the fun. "Oh no, Ryder—you wouldn't!"
He lunged for her as she screamed; laughing, she ducked away too late to avoid his attack. He gripped her jacket, wiping his hands on her sleeves. Brett giggled. This was more like it! He went to his sister's aid, tackling Ryder's legs. They all fell down in a heap of flailing limbs.
Brett found himself on top of the older boy. Immediately, he took advantage of his position and set about finding Ryder's ticklish spot. Tamara, caught under Ryder's body, joined in. His pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears and soon all three were caked in oil and dirty tears of laughter streaked their faces, tired stitches knitted their sides.
Ryder was forced to call a halt, not being able to withstand their assault any longer. His side was beginning to hurt once more. Tamara, knowing she and her brother had won, accepted his surrender. Brett, enjoying himself, refused to stop. Tamara rolled from the fun fight and pulled her brother off an exhausted Ryder, who lay gasping for breath.
"Two against one isn't fair," he complained between pants, holding his side.
"You started it," she reminded him. She offered him her hand to help him up. He resisted the urge to give it a hard tug, to pull her back down, and stood. "You're a mess," she told him.
"You're not so hot yourself."
"Thanks to you."
He shook his head. "Uhn-uh, thanks to your dad," he fibbed, not wanting to lose face any further in front of her. For some reason what Tamara thought of him was becoming important. "He left the sump valve open and all it needed was a little nudge."
Brett sat on the floor again, with a spanner in his hand, making pretty patterns on the floor with the oil. He dipped his fingers into the gook and flicked it at his sister. He tittered as the droplets hit her pants.
"Oh," Brett!" she moaned. "Don't you know when to stop? Go and cleaned up."
"Aw, I wanna stay and help Ryder," he whined, twirling the spanner sulkily in the black pool.
"I'm nearly finished, Brett." Ryder knew that Brett would do almost anything he said. It helped sometimes if someone looked up to you. He wondered if Han and Leia felt that way about him. He hoped not. "Besides, if I get it fixed now, we'll be going into town, and the sooner you get cleaned up, the sooner we go."
The boy dropped the tool and ran toward the house, forgetting he would have to face his mother. She wouldn't like the state he was in.
Ryder turned his attention back to the sick speeder. He pushed himself back under its belly, conscious of Tamara watching him. He closed the valve, thankful that his earlier hammering hadn't damaged it. He tightened the last screw in its place and slid out. "That should do it."
Tamara raised her eyebrows sceptically.
He leaned into the speeder and flicked the ignition, expecting it to roar to life. It didn't. He frowned and re-checked his repairs. Everything seemed to be in order; what could be wrong? He tried the ignition again; not even a cough.
Tamara cleared her throat. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
"What?"
She pointed to the pool of oil. "That'll need to be replaced."
"Oh." He picked up the can of oil, screwed off the cap and refilled the sump. "There, that should do it," he repeated. Confidently, he switched the ignition. The engine rumbled, burped and died. His ego started to deflate. Annoyed, he thumped the dashboard, and attempted to start the engine again. He threw Tamara a pleased grin as the speeder came alive.
"I'm impressed," she told him, in a voice that said she was anything but.
"I'm not," Mhari said from the doorway. "Look at the mess in here! I thought Brett was bad!" She pointed toward the house. "Get over there, both of you." They ran past her, ducking the playful swipes she made at them. "And there'll be no trip to town until everyone is spotless!" she shouted at their retreating backs.
ooOOoo
The room was in darkness. Its sole occupant sat next to the window, waiting for the house to sleep, waiting until everyone was safely asleep before venturing out. An Imperial shuttle thundered overhead. He watched impassively as its lights faded into the distance. He turned his head at a sound from the corridor, hoping it was Alex and Mhari going to bed. It was not, and he looked to the window once more.
Ryder yawned, relaxing in his new clothes. The visit into Darel had gone well. Both he and Brett had come home with several new outfits, although he felt a little guilty about the amount of money Mhari had spent on him. The town was larger than he had thought, and the number of Imperials had given him some cause for concern. There had been one scary moment when he found himself standing in line for a checkout next to an Imperial major. He couldn't look at the man for fear of giving himself away, and when the major asked him a question, he had stammered out an answer, hoping — praying--his accent was good enough to pass. It had, and his legs had almost given out with his relief.
Mhari had been kind enough to lend him some money to buy himself a small ornament to brighten his room. The stall-keeper had given him a strange look when he commented that he'd never seen one like that before. The purchase was followed by a ticking-off by Mhari, who reminded him that he was from Irlam, and ornaments like that were common. The small model of a girl wearing the traditional Irlami costume was the start of a new collection. He may have a new life, but why give up old hobbies? As he stared out the window into the Irlami night, he wondered what had happened to his old collection. He knew that by now his quarters would have been cleared for someone else, but what did they do with his things? He'd left everything there: his collection, his clothes, his friends, his life. A sudden cold thought struck his heart. He'd left his lightsabre. Silently, he cursed Solo for keeping, him up late the night, before the mission. If he hadn't have slept in, then he might not have forgotten his weapon. He smiled briefly, imagining Alex's reaction if he found out his "nephew" was the son of a Jedi Knight. If he really was anything like Owen Lars, Alex would freak out; imagine having a sorcerer in the family! Well, Alex had said he didn't want to know anything about Ryder, and this was one piece of information that he was going to keep to himself.
But his thoughts sobered him, made him remorseful. He hadn't kept the vow he had made after the Death Star. He had let himself forget about his desire to become a Jedi Knight, like his father. But he didn't have his lightsabre here, so he couldn't practice the drill Ben had taught him on the Millennium Falcon; besides, there was no one to train him, now that Ben was dead. He was alone with a power which a few short months ago he had never even heard of, much less knew he possessed. He had been opened to it, and then left with the frustration of not knowing how to use it properly. Okay, so he could do a few tricks and gimmicks that he had taught himself, but they didn't make him a Jedi Knight.
Another shuttle passed over the house, interrupting his thoughts.
He had to get back to the Alliance somehow. He couldn't stay here; couldn't stay even if he'd wanted to. He knew it was only a matter of time before he was found, made the slip that would cost them all. It was being unrealistic if he thought he could stay hidden; someone was bound to get suspicious, another farmer, perhaps, who remembered that the real Ryder Lasjow had died nineteen years before. No matter how much risk it involved, no matter how much he liked it here, no matter how much peace he found here, he had to get back. His life was with the Rebellion; Ben and Leia had shown him that. Perhaps on one of the other Rebel outposts he'd find another Jedi. It was a slim hope, but it was there nonetheless. Ben had spoken about "others of our kind," so somewhere in the galaxy there was someone who could teach him. Then, instead of running from Darth Vader and his armies, he could stand and face them.
He would, of course, be upset to leave. Hewas fondof this family; and he knew that theycared forhim. But that was one of the reasons he had to go; he didn't want them to be hurt because of him, because of their goodness and kindness toward him. Tonight would be the start. Tonight he would watch, study the Imperials' movements, see if he had any chance of boarding a ship or shuttle. Also, he would see if he could uncover why they were here in such large numbers.
He paused in his thoughts as he heard voices from the corridor; Alex and Mhari turning in. He sat for a while, letting them settle into bed, letting them doze and finally fall asleep before he lifted his jacket from the bed and opened his door. He listened for signs of anyone being awake. The house was silent. He fumbled in his pockets, searching for the data pad he'd bought in town, behind Mhari and Tamara's backs. It was there. Quietly, he slipped down the corridor and out of the house.
It was cold in the night air, and he closed up his jacket to protect his body from a chill. He walked in the direction of the garage. Irlam had no moon, so he would need the flashlight Alex kept there. Entering the garage, he slipped on the remnants of the oil slick, knocking over an empty can of lubricant. It fell, clattering noisily on the floor. Ryder froze, staring out the window at the house, fearing he would see a light appear and the door open. He stood for several long seconds before being convinced that all was quiet. In the dark, he felt along the bench, groping for the light. His fingers grasped its handle and he switched it on. That was better; now he could see what he was doing. Leaving the garage, he pointed the beam towards the forest. He'd take it easy; he had all night no need to rush things. He plunged into the foliage.
It took him a while to find the path he and the squad had been retreating down that night almost a month ago. But once he found the first shattered tree, it was only a matter of following the rest. He had the overwhelming feeling of deja vu as he made his way toward the Imperial installation. He felt as though there should be another thirteen men with him. They hadn't used lights, not wanting to reveal their presence to the Empire and he would kill his as soon as he neared the base. But that night during the retreat, to show a light meant death. Nearby, he heard the cry of an animal under attack, and he paused, suddenly nervous. He hoped there were no large carnivorous creatures here; he should have asked Tamara... He pushed on.
He stopped as he smelled something rotten nearby. He couldn't tell from which direction the stench was coming; probably it was just something's dinner from a week ago. Covering his nose and mouth with one hand, he continued on. Not keeping his eyes on the path he stumbled, crying out as he wrenched his ankle once more. He dropped the flashlight as he fell, and he lay stunned for a few moments, cursing the primitive medical treatment Janis had been forced to use. If he'd been treated at the base he would be fully fit by now. He pushed himself to his feet, and reached for the light.
What is that stench? He wrinkled his nose as he grabbed his torch and swept it in wide circles, trying to find what had tripped him. The light settled on the object. It was a man's leg. Or rather, it had been a man's leg. The trousers were torn and stained with dark, dried blood. Festering flesh clung to the bone. Clearly, the animals of the forest had fed upon it. Against his will, Ryder shone the light on the rest of the body. It was in worse condition than the leg. His stomach lurched, threatening to eject Mhari's well-cooked steak, as he-recognized the markings on the uniform. It was the captain.
He turned from the body, leaning over the side of a tree, gasping, trying to keep his meal in place. He retched as another stinking wave of putrefying flesh assaulted his nostrils. The torch beam wavered over the nearby foliage, as he was sick, the beam landing on something metallic. He allowed his stomach to settle before reaching for the object. It was the captain's blaster. It would need cleaned probably recharged, too; but it would come in handy. He shoved the weapon into his jacket and continued on, not daring to look back at his dead comrade.
He was tired and his leg was hurting badly by the time he reached the concrete road leading to the Imperial garrison. Tamara had said it was two kilometres from the farm; it felt more like twenty. He just hoped he could get back to his room before Alex got up for the day, or else he would have a lot of explaining to do. He ducked behind a bush and shut off the light as a troop carrier swept past. He'd have to keep his mind on what he was doing, now that he was entering enemy territory. Keeping to the undergrowth, he crawled on his belly toward the base, just as they had done on that fateful night. He swore when he drew near; the place was lit up like Anchorhead at the End of Harvest Celebrations. Sweeping floodlights filled the night sky and brushed the ground around the perimeter. It looked like they had tripled security since the night of the mission. Perhaps they were expecting company again, or maybe they'd just become paranoid.
He crept closer, freezing as two Stormtroopers appeared near him. He lay holding his breath, fearing the sound would attract their attention. They strode closer, stopping in front of him. His heart hammered in his chest, while a small voice inside his mind screamed at him to keep calm, that panic would only get him caught. A light washed over him and he knew the game was up; he waited for the sharp cold command to stand up and show himself. Then the light suddenly vanished. He looked up to see the soldiers move away. He let out his breath, wiping his sweat-dampened brow with a shaking hand. That had been too close! He moved back, selecting what he thought to be good camouflage. He pulled the data pad from his jacket and settled down to observe the Imperials' movements, reminding himself to watch out for further patrols.
OoOOoo
"Ryder?" Tamara tapped on his door. "Hey, are you awake? "
There was no answer.
Cautiously, she opened the door and entered. The room was in darkness. His steady breathing told her Ryder was still sleeping. She crossed window, tripping over his that clothes lay on the floor. She opened the blinds letting the morning light stream into the room. She bent to lift his discarded clothes and frowned when she noted the dirt on them. They also smelled damp. She placed them on the chair.
Puzzled, she turned to the occupant of the bed, and gave him a gentle shake. He grunted, twisting his body around and pulled the covers more tightly around him. His breathing deepened again.
"Ryder!" She shook him harder, concerned that he might be ill again.
His eyes flickered open. "Whaddya want?" he mumbled.
"You promised you'd help dad in the south field today, remember?" She watched as his eyes widen as she reminded him. "You've slept most of the morning. Mom's worried that you're sick again. What's wrong?"
He sat up, throwing off the covers. He groaned as his stiff muscles protested the sudden movement. "I'm fine," he told her, as he stood up and stretched. "I guess yesterday's shopping trip tired me out. Is Uncle Alex…?"
"He's gone hours ago." She frowned as he hobbled over to his clothes. He'd still had a limp, but it hadn't been that bad the day before.
"Was he annoyed?" he asked, already knowing the answer; a lecture about his responsibilities already playing out in his head.
"A little, but …" She noticed a cut on his chin. "What happened to your face?"
His hand went to the wound. It must have happened last night when he had fallen. "Oh, a battle scar from the oil fight," he grinned, his excuse sounding false even to his own ears.
"I guess..." she said slowly, Why was Ryder acting so strangely? The only person she knew who acted like this was Brett - but only when he'd done something wrong. "Mom's kept breakfast warm for you. " She left him to dress.
Ryder cursed himself for his stupidity. He'd have to be more careful in the future. He looked at the dirt on his clothes. How the hell would he explain that to Mhari? He opened the bottom drawer of the bureau and stuffed the trousers and jacket into it. He'd wear them only when he went out at night. Taking out another outfit, and hoping his aunt wouldn't ask about the others, he dressed. His eyes grew large as he spotted the blaster under the chair. Had Tamara seen it? Picking it up, he quickly shoved it into the drawer along with the soiled clothes. He'd have to keep it hidden; Alex would kill him if it was found.
Whistling jauntily, he hobbled out of the room heading for his breakfast.