A Race Against Time I

Leaning against the wall, his head occasionally rapping against its cool surface, Han counted off the minutes in his mind. "What's taking the old man so long?"

Unlike his silent Wookiee companion, however, R2 twittered a response—one only his golden bipedal companion could understand.

"What's the tin can jabbering about?" The scoundrel asked, his brow furrowed and secretly glad that someone had decided to respond to his muttering.

"I'm sorry, sir," C-3PO began, attempting to listen carefully to his twittering companion, "but he says that he's found her and he keeps repeating it."

"Found who?" Han asked, watching the astromech continue to rant.

Growling in curiosity, Chewbacca did likewise.

Listening intently to R2, C-3PO finally managed to decipher what exactly the little droid went on with. "He says it's the Princess."

"The Princess—he's found the Princess? What Princess?"

The golden droid could only shake his head. "I'm not sure that I understand him. He could mean one of the passengers on our ship but--,"

R2 continued to twitter in excitement, forcing the protocol droid to hit its dome to shut up. The astromech blew raspberries.

"I'm dreadfully sorry," C-3PO said sincerely.

"Well, whatever it wants sure as hell beats staying here," Han muttered. "But I wasn't paid for this, so I don't think so."

R2 tooted a reply.

"But he says that she's slated to be terminated," 3PO translated.

"Better her than me." The scoundrel ignored the cry from Chewbacca.

Almost as if to reply to him, R2 muttered something else; causing 3PO to look at him in what would be surprise.

"What is it?"

3PO looked back at Han and then once more at R2. Reluctantly, he looked back at Han and said, "my companion says that she's…rich."

His ears perked up. "Rich?"

R2 tweeted.

"How rich?"

"He says that she is very rich and that the reward would be greater than one would imagine." If the droid could roll his golden eyes, he certainly would.

Han brought his gloved hand to his chin, stopping short as he realized he was still clad in the Imperial armour. Look back at Chewbacca, who returned the gaze, the long time smuggler formed a lopsided grin. "I might just have a plan, Chewie."

Luke wandered aimlessly throughout the massive station, his thoughts focused on the last few hours. The Force?

He continued trudging along inside the clear and bright hallways. His helmet filtered out the interference. All around him, however, soldiers raced through, moving towards the hangar bay.

There were rumours floating around the halls that the ship they had capture had unsettled Lord Vader.

Luke snorted. He scarcely believed there was any real thing that could scare someone as terrifying as the Dark Lord himself. Once more, his mind turned back to what Vader had said about knowing his father and that the Force runs strong in his family. The young man didn't know exactly what it meant, but he knew that as soon as this ordeal with the unknown freighter was over, he'd ask the black clad Lord himself.

It seemed the most appropriate thing to do, especially when it was the Emperor's lap dog that knew a poor farm boy's father.

Even Ben didn't know his father—or at least he did make such a claim. Ben! Luke stopped short, leaving his friends, who continued unaware of their missing counterpart.

Turning about, Luke raced back to Vader.

There was something that didn't add up—Vader had asked about Ben and didn't seem satisfied that there was an old man who knew something similar to the ways of the Force. If Ben knew something that Vader didn't want known, then Luke may have inadvertently forfeited the hermit's life.

It would pain the young man to know that he might have caused Ben's untimely demise, but even he wasn't so sure that the hermit still lived.

His uncle Owen had said many tales of old Ben being a crazy hermit and to stay away from him.

Luke could almost recall one time when Ben had come for him, to teach him something that even he didn't understand.

Owen had chased off Ben, who apparently didn't want any harm to come to the boy. He clenched his fists. Uncle Owen. Luke could care less about him. He was tired of the older man trying to hold him back, telling him that he could go the next season and the season after that.

The old man just didn't understand that Luke needed to do this on his own. There was something about going to worlds that were as mysterious and inspiring as they were deadly. He could feel something urging him to explore the far depths of space and to make his mark.

Owen just didn't understand.

He walked through the common area, where officers and grunts met, often talking and relaxing off duty. He didn't care about that; all he was focused on at that very moment was searching for some kind of clue that he didn't cause someone to die because of his own carelessness.

His mind still reeled with the thought of learning about his father.

All he had known was that his father was a freighter jockey who had been killed.

Ben had said something vague about that being wrong, but Luke had never bothered to stay and find out. He didn't even think that Ben knew the concept of a father.

Perhaps the old man had been part of the Sand People but was exiled.

It would certainly make sense, especially since the hermit lived in the Jundland Wastes.

Shaking his head, Luke concentrated on finding Vader. He couldn't seem to shake off the thoughts of Ben and…something else. He wasn't sure, but he could feel himself being pulled towards the thought of the freighter. It almost felt like he was lost in a place that even he didn't know how to escape.

All of a sudden, he bumped into a junior officer, who looked startled at the black clad officer. "Sorry," Luke stammered.

The young man shook his head, wiping away the contents of the soup that had spilled on his chest. "It's…all right," was all that the young man replied.

"Really, I am so sorry. Here, let me help you with that," he offered, looking for something that would help him dry off the hot, coloured stain.

Shaking his head and speaking firmly, the young man quipped, "seriously, it's all right."

"Are you sure?" Luke asked.

The young man nodded.

"I'm still sorry. Let me make it up to you—a couple of the guys and me from the one-eighty-first are going to grab a few drinks. I'll buy you a few, sound good?"

He smiled tightlipped. "Sure, sounds good."

Luke smiled behind his mask, extending his hand. "The name's Skywalker—Luke Skywalker."

The young man's brow furrowed, his upper lip twitching for a moment. "Skywalker?" Quickly regaining his composure, he smiled and shook the young man's hand. "Nice to meet you, Luke, my name is Ciris Vauth."

"It's a pleasure. We'll be finishing our shift in two hours. Does that sound good?"

Ciris nodded, his smile growing wider. "Sounds perfect, I'll meet you guys here in two hours."

Luke nodded, "sorry again." He quickly took off, his search for Vader renewed with far more vigor.

Ciris looked at Luke, the word ringing in his head that reminded of a possible sighting. He had his orders, as did the others that he didn't know. The Emperor would do well to hear the name. His superiors would be proud of the news he'd bring them. It would only be a matter of time.

Vader stood in the briefing room, watching Tarkin's look of shock on his face.

"Are you saying Obi-Wan Kenobi is still alive? After all these years? I thought he'd be dead." It was obvious he wasn't taking the news rather well. The Jedi Knight had been more than just a thorn in his side.

Kenobi was one of the reasons why he was stuck as Governor on a backwater planet for a number of years longer than he should have been.

The name Skywalker didn't sit too well with him either. He remembered a young boy named Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan's apprentice. The young Jedi had sprouted into a powerful Jedi Knight, but shortly before the Order was given, something had happened to the young man that even he didn't know.

There were rumours that the boy had been killed, but after twenty years someone with the name Skywalker strolls aboard the Death Star—his ultimate battlestation—and manages to match Vader stride for stride. Obviously something wasn't right and if Kenobi was still alive, it stood to reason that Skywalker's father was alive as well.

"Don't underestimate the power of the Force," Vader replied, watching the older man with a keen eye. He could sense the discomfort present in the man. He knew Tarkin was plotting something.

"I want him found, Vader," he ordered, rising out of his chair and tugging on his olive coloured shirt. "I want him found, the princess executed and that Skywalker brat in the detention cell until I have some answers!"

He couldn't help but raise a brow within his dark and terrifying mask. "What threat does Skywalker pose?"

Tarkin looked at Vader, almost as if he had asked the most absurd question conceivable. "Skywalker is a very dangerous threat."

Vader took a step, clenching his jaw and making his deep voice as crisp as it could be. "I will take young Skywalker under my custody. He will pose no threat to anyone as long as I have him under my control."

The older man looked at Vader, taking a step towards him and looking him in those dark soulless eyes. "You better be right about this, Vader. It's an awful risk having someone such as the boy here. Something doesn't feel right about this situation at all."

"I will deal with Kenobi myself. In the meantime," Vader added, turning about and moving towards the door, "Skywalker will not be a problem to us as long as you do not expose him to Kenobi." Without waiting for a reply, Vader left the chambers, his left hand gently caressing the long cylindrical tube on his belt. Comprised of silver and black components, he found a part of him aching to meet his former Master in combat once more.

There was no one who could best him anymore. He'd been unchallenged and the greatest fighter in twenty years.

If there was anyone who could threaten his existence, it was Luke, but Vader had no intentions of losing his son and his link to a better time.

He'd make sure Kenobi would pay with his life for all of the things he had taken away from him. Darth Vader had waited twenty years for the moment to confront Obi-Wan and now he would have a chance.

Nothing would stop him.

Taking his companion into the turbolift, Han quickly checked the cuffs on Chewbacca.

The only problem he found was that they weren't binding the Wookiee properly.

Even the notorious smuggler had his doubts about this half-wit plan working. He couldn't even believe that a small droid managed to talk him into doing this in the first place.

Sighing, Han made sure his blaster rifle was ready, as was the heavy rifle he kept in his free arm. "I'm telling you, Chewie, this might not work."

Chewbacca roared in agreement.

"Well you could have said something."

Chewbacca continued to roar.

"Well, how was I supposed to know that droids were a lot more resourceful than I thought?"

Chewbacca gave him another answer.

"Look, just make sure you can get out of those cuffs quick and maybe we'll rescue the princess and pay off Jabba in no time, okay?"

Chewie roared his agreement.

"Good, and for the record," Han continued, making sure he faced the exit, "I wasn't convinced by a droid. It just happened to spark an idea in my head."

Chewbacca looked at him, causing the smuggler to return the gaze.

"Really."

Before the Wookiee could reply, the doorway opened, revealing their backs to the officers sitting in their station. Turning about, the pair moved towards the men, who looked at the stormtrooper clad Han and the Wookiee with some suspicion.

One of the officers, a tired and annoyed looking man, rose and looked at Ha. "Where are you taking this…thing?"

Han bit his lip and then took a step forward. "Prisoner transfer from Cell Block one-one-three-eight."

He furrowed his brow. "We received no such call. Who put you up to this?"

One of the officers moved towards Chewbacca, his blaster raised and looking unsure at the Wookiee.

Stuttering for a moment, the smuggler watched Chewbacca remove his cuffs and smack the officer across the face, sending him down.

"Look out, he's gotten loose!" Han cried, quickly tossing the bulky rifle to Chewie, who picked it up and opened fire on two of the officers who trained their blasters on Han.

With quick reflexes, the smuggler fired a bolt into the chest of a guard at the far corner, and drew a bead on another guard patrolling the cell blocks.

Chewbacca had opened fire on the security systems, destroying the automatic blaster turrets and camera systems before anyone could pay attention at their half-thought up rescue attempt.

In a few moments, after the smoke settled, Han and Chewbacca looked at each other, surprised and impressed. Jumping over the terminal, Han set his blaster aside and cycled through the cell blocks, finding one with a beautiful young woman clad in white. He looked up and smiled at Chewbacca. "Wait here, I'll go get her."

Chewbacca readied his rifled towards the door, not realizing that a slumped body on one of the consoles had activated an open channel.

The Empire knew there was someone who was attempting to free the princess from their grasp.

Deep within the bowels of the large station he continued to tread carefully, shrouding himself with the powers of the Force, avoiding detection. He hid in a corner, waiting patiently for a small squad of stormtroopers leave the chambers in which he was present. The room was essentially a large bridge connecting to the other side of the room, with two large and round control stations to the left and right on the bridge.

He observed them carefully, his cloak still covering his balding head and Obi-Wan could feel the faint stirrings within the Force that told him only one important thing: Vader was on the move.

He hid behind one of the control stations, carefully adjusting the manual systems to transfer power away from the tractor beam generators. Twisting the knob, Obi-Wan could feel—and hear—the drop of power, which he confirmed by glancing at the readout panels.

Moving from one small corner of the workstation to the other, he continued his arduous task until he felt satisfied it was completed. Edging ever closer to the corner, hoping to make his way back to the bridge, Obi-Wan stopped short, watching the small squad walk by. Sensing something unusual, the Jedi Master waited, until he heard the voices of a pair of stormtroopers speaking about the latest models of speeders.

Pursing his lips and contemplating his next move, the Jedi Master waved his hand in the direction of the soldiers, who in turn heard a small cracking sound and turned to face it.

"What was that?" One of the soldiers had asked.

Seizing the moment, Obi-Wan fled, his movements quick and precise, bolstered by the gift of the Force itself.

After another moment, the stormtrooper's comrade said, "that's nothing. Did you see the new models they have out?"

Only on the weak-minded and Imperials, he mused. Obi-Wan couldn't help but smile.

Author's Notes: Sorry this has taken me far too long to write. I really am sorry, but now I'm slowly getting back into the groove and I'm working on several of these chapters. Expect another update--a MUCH longer update--within a week or two. The plot is slowly going build up to famous scenes we all know and love, yet at the same time, we'll see what the Empire has in store for Luke and Vader.