Chapter 6

by Saber Girl Leia

Wow, it's been over two weeks. Sorry about that, I've been sick.

Janna Silver Hawkins: Thanks! That's okay, I haven't exactly been quick about updating this either.

Relyan: Palpatine is sickening, so I guess that means I hit the character right on. (Man, I wish I could really hit him...) That's an interesting point about Mara. I hadn't really thought about it past the point of making it clear that she is somewhat trained and Leia is not. Good point. Thanks for the review!

tensixtythree: Thanks! Here's more (finally)!

Disclaimer: As always, George Lucas, James Kahn, and Timothy Zahn's. Thank you :)

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Interlude Four

Han tried his best to shoot the stormtroopers and enter the code at the same time. He tried it twice, three times, and still the door did not open. Desperate, he finally buzzed Artoo on the comlink.

"Get over here, now! I need you to get us in!"

His momentary distraction proved disastrous. An unnoticed Imperial shot from behind Han, hitting him square in the blaster arm and knocking him back against the bunker, where he fell to the ground in agony.

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They are up again, and dueling. I cannot tear my eyes away. The thought flits through the deeper regions of my mind somewhere that perhaps I should finish off the woman. But one last shred of decency resides in me somewhere, even in this place. I should not kick someone who is already down.

Then what can I do to help? I know if I should attack Palpatine directly I will surely fail, and distract Luke in the process. But my brother and... my father are perfectly matched, and neither is showing any advantage in their duel. I am afraid that in the end endurance shall determine their contest, and I am sure that Vader's mechanic parts will help him outlast Luke.

My blaster will not help any... Turning myself in would be a disaster... There is nothing to yell... I am about to do something stupid, impulsive, I just know it...

"Father! Hold a moment! Let me speak to you!"

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Interlude Five

Han registered little of what happened in the next long moments. His next clear memory was of lying on the ground, somewhat removed from the battle. His arm, still in severe pain, was in the process of being bound with the remains of his shirt by another rebel soldier.

"What happened?" Han asked groggily, "Are we winning?"

"You were shot," the woman replied, "I don't know how we're doing. I ran to get you." She ran a hand along the side of his face. "Does it still hurt badly?"

It did, but he did not want to show that. "No," he answered gruffly, not looking her in the eye.

"You liar," she laughed, shaking her head. "I think you will be sitting the rest of this one out."

"Leave me alone," he growled. It came out sounding angrier than he had meant it to be.

She glared suddenly. "Hotshot, I just saved your life. I would think you'd be thanking me.

"Thank you," he mumbled.

"What?"

"I said, 'Thank you!'"

She smiled and brushed her fingers through his hair. "That's better. I'll just sit here with you for a while..."

"I'm fine. Go back where you're needed." He pushed her arm away.

"I think I'm needed here. What would they say if they heard I had just let the great General Han Solo die?"

"I'm not in danger! What will they say if they die because you weren't there to help them?"

"Ha ha. Very funny. Come on. I saved you. Now what do I get?"

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For a moment, I think he is really going to stop. To tell the truth, for a moment he pauses. Long enough to speak. But he does not lower nor turn off his lightsaber.

His voice is ominous, and I quickly realize that although he is looking at me (at least the eyepieces of his helmet are facing me) he is addressing Luke. "If you will not turn to the Dark Side," he pauses, "then perhaps she will."

I feel a sudden emotion bloom in my brother, overwhelming him as would a tidal wave. "Luke!" I scream, but at the same time he screams "Never!" and redoubles his attack.

This surge of emotion is seeping over into me as well. I cannot tell even if it is of the Dark Side or the Light. It seems some strange combination. A fury brought on by love remembered through hate. It is twisting and changing, and no one side seems to hold dominion for more than a moment. It overwhelms us both. It is as if it blinds me, both the Light and the Dark together, and I cannot see them; cannot hear their contest.

But Force, can I feel it!

Abruptly, it is gone. My senses clear, and I bear witness to my dear, sweet brother, standing over my father, the monster, with a lightsaber to his throat.

Vader's right hand is gone, and his arm hangs over a chasm. The wrist is a jumble of broken-off and melted wires, a reminder of the similar prosthetic my brother bears. I shiver. The great black specter is gasping, such as he is able in his suit, and raising his hand in truce.

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Review, please! Constructive criticism is my food!