AN: Again, thank you all for your kind comments... My apologies for the long chapter - a lot happens... : )
All previous disclaimers apply...
Missing
XII
The night was warm and the room was stuffy. Tamara turned in her bed, unable to sleep in the heat. She kicked off her covers and slapped her pillow before settling back down. She lay still, listening for the night sounds: the animals, restless in their enclosure; the house creaking as it settled down for the night; her father snoring in the next room - and Ryder creeping out.
It wasn't hard to guess where he went. After that first morning, with his evasive answers, she had known what he was doing; and if he went tonight, it would make his tenth night in a row. She held her breath as she heard the whisper of his door as it opened; she heard the quiet pad of his feet as he crept up the corridor. Sadness and fear filled her as the front entrance closed after him.
Tamara rose from her bed and crossed to her window, trying to make out his shape in the darkness. Why was he doing this? Why was he risking his life? Why couldn't he just settle down and be the farmer he said he once was? She wanted to run after him, to beg him to stop what he was doing. But like the other nights she had stood here, she knew she couldn't. Her father would hear, and that would only serve to make matters worse.
As before, a light appeared in the garage.
She'd found the blaster. It wasn't hard; she hadn't even been looking for it. Her mother had sent her into his room to collect any laundry he'd left laying around. He'd left the bureau drawer open; the gun's muzzle poked out from under the clothes. She hadn't dared touch it. She knew by the wound on his side the damage they could do. Why did he keep it? She wondered, fearfully. He knew such weapons were illegal on Irlam. If he carried it anywhere on him, he could be arrested. Did he have it with him now?
The light bobbed its way across the yard and over the enclosure's fence. The thought of him being in danger caused an ache within her, and this feeling scared her. It wasn't the same as when he was ill; she hadn't known him then. But, she had liked him from that first day, the day he had been able to communicate rationally, the day he had pestered her with questions - the day he had made her laugh. It had been easy to like him; it was now easy to love him, and she knew she did. When he stole out to the Imperial base it terrified her. When he returned safe the relief she felt was overwhelming; it lightened her heart and made her smile.
The light disappeared into the forest, and Tamara returned to her bed, knowing she would not sleep until he returned.
ooOOoo
"Get up, Brett!"
Alex smiled at the tousled blond head that emerged from under the sheets. It was plain that the youngster was excited about his first day back at school; he had awakened with his father's first summons, which was unusual.
"You get dressed now, and come to breakfast."
Brett tumbled from his bed, knocking his carefully folded clothes off the chair by his bunk. As he dressed, he could hear his father calling Ryder for the third time. He pulled on his shirt and pants, leaving the more difficult buttons and zippers for his mother. He rushed from his room, impatient for the day to begin so he could see his friends again; he had so much to tell them.
As he barrelled down the hallway, he bumped into his cousin, who had emerged bleary-eyed and yawning from his room.
"Slow down, Junior."
Brett took no heed and easily beat Ryder into the kitchen.
Breakfast was quickly over with and, as Alex pulled on his jacket to drive his son to school, he handed out the day's chores. "Before I come back, I want the herd fed. Tamara, you can help Ryder with that. Ryder, when I come back we'll mend the barn roof. Harvest is too near for us to leave it any longer."
Still sitting at the table, Ryder nodded. Everything was the same here as on Tatooine: the work, the harvest.
"Come on, Dad!" Brett pulled on his father's arm. "I'll be late!"
Mhari placed a small amount of money in her son's pocket and buttoned his coat. She combed his hair, much to Brett's annoyance. "There, we're all ready."
Brett shouted his goodbyes as his father led him from the room. He felt sorry for his sister and cousin; they didn't go to school anymore.
ooOOoo
Jair Colter smiled pleasantly at his class of five-year-olds. Like most of them, he was happy to be back in the classroom. The vacations always got a little boring toward the end, and he usually ended up yearning to get back to his work, to do what he did best - teach. This was his second term with this class, and he had another two to go before they moved up a year and he got a new class. He would start this term the same way he had started every new term since he'd begun teaching. It calmed the children down, got rid of their nervous energy, and helped them settle into the school atmosphere after being on holiday for a few weeks.
He cleared his throat before speaking, keeping his voice low so as not to frighten his charges. "'Morning, children."
They spoke in chorus. "'Morning, sir." There were a few giggles, but he didn't mind.
"I'm pleased to see you all back. Did you enjoy the break?"
There were several "yes's," but mostly the class just nodded.
Colter moved forward and sat on the front desk, making himself approachable to the children. His smile widened as he watched their young, eager faces, knowing each of them was bursting with stories from their vacation. "We'll take it one at a time, and you can all tell the class about your holiday." His eyes roamed the room, falling on a youngster seated at the back. "Why don't you start, Timi?"
The boy rose from his chair, glancing nervously at his neighbour, before plunging into his tale.
Brett only half-listened to his classmates, as they rambled, stumbling their way through their holiday adventures. Mostly the tales consisted of visiting relatives on the other side of the planet, throwing up in the speeder on the way, getting a new pet after the old one died, how an older brother or sister had just left for the Academy, or helping on the farm or in a parent's shop. Brett yawned and twisted in his seat. His story would be the best of all; if only it could be his turn next.
Colter noticed the boy's agitation, and when the girl sitting in front of him finished her story about getting a new dress, he invited Brett to take the floor.
Brett jumped to his feet and was immediately lost for words. Now that it was his turn, he didn't know where to start. The teacher noticed, and tried to prompt him." What happened to you during the break, Brett?"
Brett blurted it out. "There was fighting!"
"Fighting? Who was fighting?"
"In the forest, at night; there were flashes in the trees, and shouting. And big exp..expo…exposuns and fire! Dad said for us to stay in the house." Brett's eyes glowed with the memory. The rest of the class sat up; none of them had anything as exciting as real fighting to talk about!
"Do you know who was fighting?" Jair had to ask again. His own curiosity had been stirred. He had heard of the battle near the Lasjows' farm; the rumour was that it had been a Rebel landing.
Brett frowned, trying to remember if his father had said anything. "Stormtroopers, I think," he said, saying the only thing he could; after all, they were the only ones with guns. Who else could it have been? "I don't know who else." He fell silent.
"It all sounds very dangerous, Brett, and I'm very glad no-one got hurt."
"My cousin did."
"Your cousin?" Jair frowned, aggrieved that a local would have been caught up in the battle. "What happened?"
"I dunno," Brett vigorously shook his head scowling that he didn't know this part of Ryder's story. "But he had to come stay with us an' we never knew him before, an' Ryder knows lots of things! Mom said he knew a princess!"
The teacher smiled. The boy's story was going the same way his classmates' had, although Brett's suffered from over-imagination. But an active mindwas to be encouraged. "Really?"
"Uh-uh," Brett nodded "But dad won't let him talk about his friends, and he says funny things…." he paused, recalling something and he looked expectantly at his teacher as he asked. "What's a Jedi Knight?"
Colter's smile froze on his face. He hadn't heard the Jedi mentioned for almost twenty years, and to hear it coming from a five-year-old child... "Who told you that?" He had a feeling he knew.
"Ryder."
Jair's mind raced over Brett's words. A strange cousin turns up after a battle; he knows a princess and speaks of Jedi Knights. He had seen the youth in town a few times with the Lasjows, but had never given him a second thought. He shook his head, scolding himself for his thoughts. The lad was probably a farmer, like his relations; there was no sense in making something out of a five-year-old's ranting. He didn't want to make trouble for the Lasjows; they were good people.
"You can sit down now, Brett, and let someone else have a turn."
Jair Colter's suspicions remained.
ooOOoo
It was late afternoon and Alex stood at the gate arch, waiting for his neighbour's speeder to bring his son home from school. Mhari was using theirs to visit friends, so he had to rely on Brett hitching a ride from his friend's dad. He gazed around him, relishing the peacefulness of the farm; a peacefulness which was about to break with the return of his youngest. An engine noise sounded down the road, and he prepared himself to greet the little whirlwind. The vehicle drew near and the canopy opened, revealing Brett and his friend talking wildly in the rear seat. The conversation was cut short as Brett grabbed his satchel and fell from the speeder. Alex picked him off the ground, dusted him down and lifted him onto his shoulders. He shouted his thanks to the driver, and both waved as their neighbour drove off.
"Did you have fun?" he asked, carrying Brett into the yard.
Brett's answer was a quick, "Yes." He closed his eyes, spreading his arms wide, making engine noises as he imitated an Imperial shuttle. Alex ran with him, making his own "zooms" and "phoeweees," joining in with his son's game. He swooped past the animal enclosure, running in a circle toward the house. The farmer stopped in his tracks as a bellow came from the opposite end of the field. He glanced over, scowling; that wasn't a nerf calling.
He patted Brett's leg, telling him to be quiet. They both listened. There was a total silence, apart from the sound of Ryder's hammering coming from the barn roof. Soon, even it stopped. An unusual tension hung in the air. Absolute quiet.
A sudden scream shattered the air; the animals scattered, baying their distress and a huge, sleek black shape sprang for the running herd.
Quickly, Alex placed Brett on the ground. "Get Ryder - hurry! Tell him to get the stun-gun." Then he was over the enclosure fence, running towards his livestock.
Ryder ceased his hammering to wipe the sweat from his brow. He looked across the yard. From his vantage point, perched as he was on the roof, he could see Alex standing watching his animals, with Brett on his shoulders doing the same. There was an odd sensation like a breath of wind on the back of his neck. There was a scream, and the herd bolted across the field as one of theirnumber fell under attack from a large beast. A spray of blood spurted from the nerf's neck as its throat was torn open.
"What the hell…..?" Ryder was down the ladder in a shot, grabbing Brett as the child tore around the corner, looking for his cousin. "What is it?"
Brett pulled on his sleeve. "The ribbies!" he panted out. "You've got to get the stun-gun!"
"I don't know where it is!" He glanced around saw Alex leaping the fence into the field. "Shit! Where's Tamara?"
They ran to the house, trying to find Tamara. Ryder burst into the living room. Tamara lay on the couch, watching a holo-movie with keen anticipation. She turned around in anger and guilt; ready to scold Ryder for interrupting the climax of the story and to offer an excuse for why she wasn't finishing the laundry as her mother had asked. But her anger faded with the urgency she saw the urgency on his face.
"Where's the stun gun?" he demanded.
She quickly switched off the movie as she stood. "Why?"
"Ribbies!" Brett blurted out.
Tamara's heart chilled. "Lowen? Where's Dad?"
"In the field." Ryder caught her arm as she tried to run from the room. "Where's the gun?"
She shrugged off his grip. "In the garage - locked drawer. The key's in the tin on the top shelf."
Too much hassle and no time. "Never mind," he told her running for the doorway. He still had the blaster in his room.
Tamara watched him go, knowing what he was doing. And turned to Brett. "Stay here," she told him as she ran for the house.
Brett ignored her and followed.
With fear pounding her heart Tamara climbed the fence, straining to spot her father. She knew the lowen, or "ribbies," as Brett called them. They were the most feared predators on Irlam. They were huge cat-like beasts, at least two meters long, and they were more than capable of killing a man. Brett's nickname for them referred to their jaws, which, when opened at full stretch, pulled the surrounding skin into "ribs." One bite was usually all it took for the kill. And her father had gone in unarmed.
"Tamara!" the shout came from behind her. "Stay put!"
Ryder raced forward, carrying the blaster. A second scream of death hurried his feet. He jumped up beside her. "Get into the house!" He warned her as he climbed over and dropped onto the grass, heading for the distant figure surrounded by three of the large creatures and the dead nerfs.
Alex Lasjow cursed himself for his stupidity. All his years as a farmer in this region should have taught him to be more cautious, but like an idiot he'd run right into danger. He had achieved one of his aims, though; he'd taken the lowen's attention from the herd. His animals were safe, but now it was he who commanded their unwanted notice. If he made any move - all it would need was a twitch of a hand - he'd be minus a throat. He gagged on the foul stench of death that rose from the bodies of the nerfs.
A low snarl issued from the throat of the largest beast; his two companions echoed the hoarse grumble. Their feeding had been interrupted, and their mood was one of ugly displeasure. The lowen crept closer to the terrified farmer. Alex felt the thin needles of fear pierce his lower spine, calling on his legs to move, to turn, to get away. But he obeyed his common sense and stood still, letting the animals pace and growl.
The shot, when it came, surprised all - not least the beast that slumped heavily to the ground. This unexpected turn of events confused the two remaining lowen. They swung their massive heads around to stare malevolently at the youth who had so steadily crept up on them. The biggest animal, the one who seemed to lead, appeared to protect the others. Crouched low, slouching cautiously towards the human, warm thick saliva dripped from its jaws.
Ryder re-aimed the weapon; now that his advantage of surprise had been used, he had to act quickly.
"Brett, come back!"
Ryder spun around at Tamara's unexpected scream. Brett was tearing across the grass, heading straightfor them.
"Brett, get out of here!"
A roar of bald anger rose from the creature as it sprang for its nearest foe. Brett froze, a look of sheer terror on his young face. Ryder whirled, facing the attacking creature, throwing up his arms in a useless gesture of defence. He caught the full impact of the lowen's body and fell, spinning to the ground, dropping the gun.
Alex, unable to stand still any longer, dove for the fallen weapon. He was clubbed down by the second lowen. Brett, seeing his father fall, turned tail and ran, pursued by his father's assailant.
"Brett!" Tamara screamed, watching helplessly, as Ryder fought for his life and Brett ran for his. She knew the agile beast would easily catch her little brother.
The large, clawed paws ripped viciously at Ryder's chest as his arm muscles strained to keep those open jaws from his throat. The weight of the animal squeezed his body, and he found it hard to draw breath, found it hard to get the oxygen he needed to continue the fight. The beast's roar echoed around the farm, blasting Ryder with the stinking breath of the carnivore. The head plunged for his throat. Acting on pure instinct, he met the attack with a blow to the lowen's trachea. It choked on the punch, surprised. Ryder used the time to his advantage, and plunged his fingers into the creature's eyes. It jerked and bellowed with pain, but it was too late. Blood and vitreous humor ran down Ryder's arm from the ruined sockets. The animal pulled away, pawing at its blinded eyes. Ryder lay still, coughing, fighting the pain from his shredded chest, feeling the blood swell and spill.
Tamara's scream brought him to his senses. He scrabbled in the dirt, frantically searching for the gun, unaware that it was now Brett and not he who was prey. He gave a silent thank you to the Force as his fingers closed around the weapon.
Brett screamed for his mother as he ran. His stomach retched, his small body finding it hard to obtain the strength it needed to cope with absolute fear and the physical need to flee. The lowen behind him leapt, and fell in a black, heap on the ground. Brett ran on without looking back. He didn't stop until he was safe in his big sister's arms.
The blinded animal caused no more problems, and Ryder shot it, before he slumped back, sore and exhausted.
Alex groaned, his hand going to his painful head. The lowen had dealt him quite a clout. He pulled himself up, gazing around the field. The three black beasts lay sleeping; the herd grazed unconcerned now at the other end of the enclosure; Tamara consoled a weeping Brett at the fence; and Ryder lay on his back, still. The farmer went to him.
"You're hurt," he observed, gazing with some concern at Ryder's tattered and bloody jacket and bloodied hands.
The boy opened his eyes and smiled wearily. "Just scratches, I think." He sat up and winced, his hand holding his chest. "I'm glad it was cold today." He hated to think what he would look like now if he hadn't worn his jacket.
Alex helped him up. "We'll need to take a look at you…" he hesitated. "Ryder, I…" His throat clogged; he forced it open. "I want to thank you. I…"
Ryder shifted his feet in the dirt uncomfortably as the big man tried to thank him for saving his son's and his own life. "Uncle Alex," he broke in, "you don't have to thank me. You saved my life; now I've paid my debt."
The farmer watched Ryder walk, limping again, to the body of a lowen. He glanced down and saw the weapon the boy had used on the animals and anger stirred within as he recognised the handgun. The Rebel had brought a blaster into his house. He tuned to shout and saw a dead nerf nearby, its neck torn, its stomach ripped, its viscera spilling out. In its place, he saw his son. Troubled, he ran his hand through his hair and shook the vision off. The Rebel had paid his debt by saving Alex's life, but he'd put Alex in arrears by saving Brett.
He sighed wearily and lifted the gun from the ground. He crossed to the youth and placed the blaster into Ryder's hands. "I don't know where you got this, but I'd like you to remove it from my property."
"Of course, sir," Ryder agreed, tucking it into his belt. He bent to help Alex clear the lowen from the field.
ooOOoo
Dusk was falling as she spotted him sitting alone on the perimeter fence. His back was to her, his head tilted as he stared at the first stars of the night. Everything was quiet again, everything was peaceful. Brett was in bed early, recovering from the day's excitement. Her mother and father were talking in the living room, and Ryder sat outside - stargazing. She wanted some company. Silently, she crept up on him and encircled his waist with her arms.
"Watcha doing?"
"Thinking," he replied, without taking his eyes from the sky.
"Well, don't over do it; you might blow a circuit."
He didn't laugh, and his mood began to transfer onto her. She moved to his side her eyes following his, upwards. "You want to go back, don't you?"
His answer was simple. "It's where I belong."
"Can't you belong here?" It was out before she could stop herself.
He turned on the fence to face her, surprise clear in his blue eyes. He took her hand. "Tama, understand, please. As long as the Alliance fights, as long as the Empire has its hold, it's where I belong. I can't sit here forever. I can't forget my past, no matter how much your father wants me to." He gestured to the farm buildings. "I feel trapped. It's like I'm on Tatooine again. I have to choose between what I feel is right, and those I've come to..." He turned his eyes down to look at their entwined fingers. "...love."
Tamara was silent, trying to gain the courage to ask him the question that burned inside her. "Is that why you go out at night?" She felt his body stiffen and rushed on, "I've seen you. You go there, don't you--the outpost?"
He couldn't look at her, couldn't deny it.
"What if you're caught? Do you think of that?"
"It's the only hope I have of getting off-planet," he argued gently. He wouldn't mention that so far he'd been unable to find a way to break into the base, to get to a shuttle; but he wouldn't give up. "And if I'm caught doing that, then I'm the only one to suffer. They can't trace me to here. Tama, I can't stay hidden indefinitely. It's inevitable that I'll be found someday."
"What would happen?" she had to ask. Her curiosity made her.
"If I'm caught here?"
She nodded.
He looked away, to the house. "It depends on who's in command here. I guess they'd probably take control of the farm. You'd live here, but slave for them." He hesitated and looked deeply into her grey eyes, not wanting to hurt her, but having to be truthful. "They may execute your father."
Horror slithered up her spine. Could they really do that? Just because they had helped someone? Could they kill her father? If they did that to them, what would they do to Ryder.
"What about you?" she asked.
"Interrogated, executed."
He said it so simply, as if he were telling her she had a mark on her jacket, or that it was getting dark. Wasn't he scared?
Ryder felt her distress and tried to reassure her. "I won't let anything happen to you. I'll be gone before anyone suspects."
That was not what she wanted. She wanted him to stay. "We've been careful!" she protested, her eyes searching his. "No one will ever suspect; you don't have to go."
He smiled sadly. "I have things to do, Tama. One day you'll understand." The Minoan assault was only three weeks away, and he was needed for that. He was being given a squad to lead; he couldn't stay here. But for now, there was Tamara.
"I'll tell you what; I'll stay in for tonight. After today, I need the sleep anyway. "
His words seemed to make her happier. "You will?"
He nodded, smiling, not only to cheer her up, but to cheer himself up. "How's Brett doing?"
"He's sleeping it off; by tomorrow he'll have forgotten all about it. How do your wounds feel?"
"Not too bad." He unconsciously rubbed his chest. He had been lucky; if he hadn't been wearing his jacket his flesh would have been torn from his bones; as it was he'd suffered vivid red weals and several deep scratches and bruises; but they would clear up soon enough. But the appearance of the lowen had given him some cause for alarm. Had they been about when he was out at night?
"Those things, will there be more of them?" he voiced his concern.
She knew what was on his mind. "There could be, but the packs are migratory they don't stay in one place for very long."
Ryder didn't feel terribly reassured by her answer and vowed to hang onto his blaster for a while longer, despite Alex's request to ditch it.
It was almost fully dark, the yard lit only by the light coming from the house. A chill settled over the farm, and Tamara shivered. Ryder pulled her up onto the fence beside him, so they could take warmth from each other's bodies. Sitting with him like this, she felt as though nothing in the galaxy could harm them. She glanced out the side of her eyes at him; once again, questions sprang to her mind. "What's it like out there?" she asked, as a shuttle flew overhead. "You know—space travel, other planets?"
She sounded the way he used to, always inquisitive about things that had been out of his reach. "It's not as exciting as you think," he informed her. "Still, it was for me, at first. But that's only because of the way I joined the Alliance. After a while, though, the excitement wears off. Travelling in space can get pretty boring and routine."
Tamara knew by the way he spoke and by the gleam in his eyes that he loved that life, and couldn't wait to get back to it. "There are so many different planets, it's almost unbelievable! And so many life forms that you end up with several culture shocks! There are planets of water, snow, sand, forest, grass, rocks, even gases. Or you get a mixture, like Irlam."
She leaned against him, dreaming. "I wish I could go."
"You will," he said, thinking of his own past. "I thought I'd never get off Tatooine. The day I did leave, I woke up thinking, 'Another boring day on the farm." His voice turned sad. "I couldn't have been more wrong."
"Why? What happened?"
Smoke billowing on the horizon. Panic beating in his chest. "Uncle Owen! Aunt Beru!"
He cleared his throat, brushed away the grief and horror of that day. "By the end of the day I was fugitive from the Empire."
Tamara knew he was reluctant to speak about himself, she sensed sadness and a raw sorrow. But her forbidden question returned. "What's your real name?"
He hesitated, feeling a little defensive and Alex's warnings repeated in his mind. But it had been so long since he had even thought of his own name. "Luke; Luke Skywalker."
Tamara pulled away from him as she considered his name. She looked at him quizzically. "You don't look like a Luke."
He grinned. "Oh? And what do I look like?"
"A Ryder."
He laughed again and pulled her close. "I'm beginning to think of myself as a Ryder."
"Good," she smiled against his chest, feeling the warmth of his arm around her. A silly idea occurred to her, a past time she and her brother enjoyed that she wanted to share with him. "Have you ever skimmed stones?"
"What?"
"Good, you haven't. Then since Dad has given you the day off tomorrow, we'll go to the river and I'll teach you."
Mhari stood at the kitchen door, watching and listening to them talk. Ryder laughed quietly and kissed Tamara lightly on the forehead; he nodded, agreeing with her daughter's proposition. She knew it was inevitable that Ryder and Tamara grow close; both she and Alex had feared it, but now she knew his name she feared it even more.
"Come on, you two," she called to them. "It's getting late."
ooOOoo
The chime for afternoon recess echoed through the school and, for the second time that day, work was forgotten as the children ran helter-skelter for the exits. They pushed their way, shouting and screaming, into the yard. Jair Colter watched his class split into several small groups, starting the same number of games. The girls huddled in little corners to play "house," or chased one another while shrieking if a boy dared come too near. The boys, on the other hand, enjoyed rougher games, and battled it out with toy blasters.
He smiled, laughing to himself, as little Brett Lasjow screamed past, waving his weapon. The "dead" dropped, clutching their chests — although they had been shot in the back — and lay still until their "killer" had passed. Then they were on their feet again, howling out murderous war cries. Brett, in his excited hurry, ran into his instructor. Colter grasped his small arms, avoiding an accident, and sent the boy off in the opposite direction, chased by his "enemies."
It was then that Jair Colter noticed what the child wore, wrapped twice around his small waist.
ooOOoo
"Three, four, five, six, seven!" Tamara watched with pride as the stone she had thrown bounced across the river's smooth surface. "Betcha can't beat seven."
Ryder chewed his bottom lip as he considered the challenge. If he had known stone skimming had meant coming this close to this much water, he wouldn't be here now. Coming from a desert planet had left him uncomfortable around open bodies of water, and it was an anxiety that he was finding hard to conquer. He hadn't even known he had a fear until he had been pulled under the foul water in the garbage crusher aboard the Death Star; that left a bad memory that still gave him nightmares. But not wanting Tamara to know he was afraid, he swallowed back hard and lifted a round, smooth stone. It looked easy enough. He stepped as close to the river as he dared, and threw the rock.
"One," he said, as the stone plopped into the water.
Tamara giggled. "That wasn't 'one,' it went straight down."
He sighed. "I can't get the hang of this."
Tamara picked up another stone and showed it to him. "Get a flat one, like this; and it must be smooth. Now hold it like this..." She demonstrated the grip to him. "Now watch this," she boasted, as she threw the stone across the water and counted, "Six, seven, eight — see?"
He selected another water-polished stone, determined to champion over this child's game, "Okay, move back." His face fell as the stone joined the other rocks on the river bed.
"Not like that—like this."
As he watched the water surface ripple from her skipping stone, an idea grew in the back of his mind. He tried to push it away, but the harder he pushed, the more it appealed to him. It had been a while since he had even thought about the Force much less tried to use it. He had managed to teach himself some little tricks with which to amuse his comrades in the squad even though he had the feeling Ben Kenobi might have disapproved of them. He glanced at his companion, a wicked gleam of fun sparkling in his eyes, and he smiled. He lifted another stone and stood at the water's edge. "Right," he said, mimicking her. "Watch this. …"
Tamara stood aside to let him throw. She watched sceptically and, as she watched, her mouth dropped open. Ryder gently sent the stone on its way; it bounced fifteen times before disappearing under the water. She turned to face his smug grin in disbelief. "How did you do that?"
He chuckled loudly, enjoying his own joke. "All it needed was a little Force!"
ooOOoo
Brett felt his tears trickle lightly down his cheeks. They dripped onto his small hands, which fidgeted upon the desk at which he sat. His bottom lip trembled, threatening a larger deluge of salt water. He couldn't understand why he had been kept after school. What had he done wrong? And why had Mr Colter taken his gun belt from him? Why did he ask all those strange questions about Ryder? He sniffed and glanced cautiously at his teacher, who now sat staring silently at him. Dad would be worrying; he'd think Brett had been bad, and he'd be standing outside angry. More tears spilled over; he wanted to go home.
Colter was troubled. There was no doubt in his mind now that Ryder Lasjow was not from Irlam. This child in front of him was infamous for having a vivid imagination, but even he couldn't have made up what he'd just told his teacher. He could only have learned of the Jedi from an off-worlder. Information on that ancient order was forbidden; children under the age of eighteen had no knowledge, or memory of them at all. It had been the gun belt that put the clincher on it. Brett said he had found it after Tamara, his sister, had buried it, on the day Ryder had arrived.
The boy sat before him, quietly weeping. He didn't understand; all he cared about was his confiscated toy. Colter had no wish to upset the child's life, or make trouble for the Lasjows, but this matter had to be investigated. And he was duty-bound, as an Imperial servant, to report any suspicious behaviour or person.
"Brett," he said, his usual soft tones heavy with regret, "you can go now."
The tears stopped almost immediately. He wasn't in trouble after all; he wasn't going to be punished. Gratefully, Brett stood, grabbed his satchel, and ran from the room.
Colter watched from the classroom window as Lasjow lifted his son into the waiting speeder. He said a silent apology to the farmer as the two drove off; then he turned quickly to the com-unit, punching out the appropriate numbers.
ooOOoo
They had tired of the game. Both now lay flat on the grass, staring up at the sun shining through the trees that rose above them. A cool breeze wafted over them, tugging gently at their hair and clothing. The leaves rustled lightly and the river gurgled. Birds circled in the air; small mammals poked their heads out of dens to stare curiously at the two humans before ducking into the undergrowth to forage for food. A fly buzzed over Tamara and she waved it away.
Ryder noticed movement in the branches above him. A little furry animal stared down at him, its brown eyes wide with inquisitiveness. It chattered as it scurried along the tree limb. "What's that?" Ryder asked, pointing upward.
Tamara's eyes followed his finger. "Tree myre."
"Oh." He thought of the lowen. "Is it dangerous?"
"No."
They watched the tree myre disappear into a thick clump of leaves, and then returned to their own private thoughts.
Ryder's stomach rumbled loudly. "We should've brought some food."
"Mom'll have dinner made soon; we'll have to get back."
Neither of them moved, each enjoying the peace of the forest too much to go home yet. Tamara spoke again. "Ryder?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you really know Princess Leia?"
The image of the princess as he had last seen her sprang to his mind: her long hair down, framing her face; her petite body clad in her blue jump suit, as she leaned forward to plant a kiss on his cheek, telling him to be careful. He smiled. "Yes."
"What's she like?"
He sat up and looked down at her. "What is this—question time again?"
"I just want to know, that's all." She hesitated, unsure. "Do… do you like her?"
So that was it. Their feelings for each other had been apparent last night, but nothing had been said. They couldn't hide it or try to pretend it wasn't there, and now, in her own way, Tamara had swung the first pick-axe at the ice. It cracked. But he had to tease her, to be sure himself that her feelings were true before he allowed his shield down fully. So he answered with the truth. "Of course; I joined the Alliance because of her." He failed to mention that he doubted his chances with Leia; she was too involved with the Rebellion to let love into her heart.
Tamara was shocked at the envy that coursed through her. She hadn't realized her feelings were so strong. "Really?" Her voice sounded disappointed, and her face echoed the same sentiment.
He'd hurt her, and he was sorry. His eyes smiled down at her hesitantly. Ignoring Han's teaching, he leaned toward her, brushing her lips with his own. Her eyes widened in delighted surprise, and he held her gaze. "Does that answer your question?"
Tamara nodded and cleared his hair from his eyes, tentatively stroking the blond strands. Again his mouth covered hers, his hands exploring the back of her neck. She knew by his touch that, unlike her, he was not new to love. He moved down, planting small kisses on her neck, before finding her mouth again. His embrace tightened as the kiss deepened.
Tentatively Tamara allowed her hand to stray around his back; caressing him through his shirt. She shift slightly, bring her leg up, bending the knee to cradle him in the nook of her body. She smiled into their kisses as he groaned and a heat swelled within as she felt him against her. She gasped; spoke his name as his hand wandered to the fastening of her pants.
"Ryder…."
He hesitated, paused and pulled away. Looking at her with a mixture of confusion and uncertainty. "I…. I can't… I mean, we can't… I…"
"Don't… don't you want… I mean…. Am I not…?" Her voice was small, hurt and unsure. Her breasts still tender, wanting to be touched and caressed.
Ryder rolled away and stood, attempting to steady his breathing, to fight his arousal. He was furious—not with her but with himself. How could he have let it get so far? He wasn't Ryder Lasjow. He was Luke Skywalker. He didn't belong here. He belonged with the Alliance. He couldn't do this to Tamara; he couldn't allow this relationship to develop any further, not when he was planning on leaving. "It's not that," he tried to reassure her. "I just… we can't….It wouldn't be fair…"
"Fair?" She was starting to get angry
Ryder stood on a large boulder at the very edge of the water, his anger at himself causing him to forget his fear. He hefted a large rock and, with a cry, he threw it as far and as hard as he could at the river. The boulder under him rocked with his weight and movement; he lost his balance and plunged into the water.
The tension was broken immediately. Tamara could do nothing else but laugh as he flailed, splashing, with his arms and legs, trying to stand. He slipped and his head was engulfed with water; it entered his nose and his mouth, making him choke and gasp for breath.
Tamara's giggles faded as she realized his screams for help were real. Quickly, she joined him in the river and grabbed him, pulling him up. She knew it was panic that held him under. He coughed, clearing his lungs and bringing up water. He shivered, but not only with the cold.
"Are you all right?" She helped him to the bank and sat him down.
"I'll be okay in a minute." He coughed again as he tried to calm himself after the fright. He felt foolish at getting into a panic over knee-deep water, but when it went over his head, he felt— He shuddered.
Tamara studied his pale face and his hands, which shook as he brushed his wet hair from his face. "We best get home now, and get changed before we both catch a chill."
He nodded in agreement, the previous incident gladly put behind them for now.
ooOOoo
Ryder squished into his bedroom with Mhari and Brett's laughter still ringing in his ears. He had been told that when you fish, you don't jump into the river with them. Brett ever offered to teach him how to swim; it would have sounded all right coming from an adult, but coming from a five-year-old, it was downright embarrassing. He pulled off the sodden clothes and towel-dried his body. He searched his drawers for dry, clean clothes and dressed. He dried his hair, already feeling a lot better, and combed out the tugs. The beautiful smell of his dinner drifted into the room, making his mouth water; all he needed was one of Mhari's meals and he'd feel great.
He glanced up toward the window at the sound of approaching vehicles, but they had pulled around the side of the house and were hidden from his view. He sat on the bed to pull on his socks. It must be friends of the Lasjows', although Alex hadn't mentioned anything to him when they'd spoken that morning. He shrugged. The farmer had no obligation to tell him everything. He reached for his boots and drew them on. He frowned. It seemed awfully quiet, the way it had been just before the lowen attack. A feeling of apprehensive dread raised the hair on the back of his neck. He didn't like the silence and he started to rise from the bed...
The door to his room flew open, revealing the white armour Luke instantly recognized. He dove for the open drawer, attempting to close it before the Imperials spotted the blaster he kept there. He never got to complete the move, as he was seized from behind and thrown against the wall. Without thinking of the consequences, he lashed out at his captors. They clubbed him with their weapons; and he fell to the floor, stunned. Then he was on his stomach as they cuffed his hands firmly behind his back. Wordlessly, they pulled him to his feet, and he groggily watched as others of their number searched his room. They found everything: the blaster, the datapad he kept with his accounts of the nightly excursions, and the hologram of the princess. He felt their smug satisfaction as they dragged him from the house.
The Lasjows stood lined up against the barn wall at gunpoint. They were silent, apart from frightened sobs from Brett and Tamara. Mhari reached for her husband's hand, seeking some kind of comfort. Fury at this invasion of his life was clear on the farmer's face, but he held his tongue, fearing what would happen if he were to protest. They all waited quietly.
There was a commotion at the house as the young Rebel was forcefully hauled from the building by two Stormtroopers. Alex placed his hand gently on his daughter's shoulder, knowing she was the one who needed the most succour.
Luke quickly took in the scene before him; and if things looked bleak in the house, then they were a hundred times worse out here. Two troop transporters sat, waiting for their passengers; four Stormtroopers guarded the family, as though they were dangerous criminals; others searched the surrounding farm. In shocked disbelief, he watched the Imperials prod the Lasjows toward one of the waiting vehicles. He dug his heels into the dirt, pulling against the troopers' vice-like grips.
"No!" he yelled at the soldiers. "Don't take them!"
Mhari lifted Brett into her arms; he clung to her, staring teary-eyed at the troops. Alex held Tamara's hand; his daughter looked at him, her eyes pleading with him to do something. But he couldn't. He could only wonder where they'd gone wrong, and fear what would happen in the near future. The soldier behind Alex pushed him on with the butt of his blaster.
More Imperials emerged from the house, their search over. The officer in charge, a lieutenant, carried the small evidence box. Luke knew what it contained. His death warrant was probably already signed. He looked back over at the family and locked eyes with Tamara. Her despair was deep; she glanced away, and he struggled, more determined.
"Leave them--let them go!" He strained against the manacles on his wrists, shouting, appealing with Alex to say something. ''Uncle Alex— tell them!"
The lieutenant gestured at him, talking to the troopers. "Shut him up."
Alex turned away as the Stormtroopers holding Ryder struck him, using the armour plates on the backs of their hands as effective weapons.
"No!" Tamara screamed, as his shouting ceased. She threw off her father's hand, trying to run to Ryder, wanting to stop the Imperials who were beating him. Alex caught her and pulled her back. She turned on him, crying, "Don't let them hurt him!"
He held her as she sobbed, heedless of the impatient Stormtroopers behind them. "There's nothing I can do." The boy had saved his son's life and there was nothing he could do to help save him, nothing bar betray him to safeguard his family. He watched as the troopers bundled the subdued youth into the transport; then he and his distraught daughter joined Brett and Mhari in the other vehicle.
The nerfs bellowed a lone farewell as the Imperial carriers swept through the gate arch.