Luke went down. The kid had been hit.
From friendly fire.
All this information seemed to percolate in slow motion, Han frozen momentarily in place on the fire escape stair, staring in horror as his friend took a blaster bolt to the chest and then somehow stumbled to his feet again, just as Vader in a fit of fury choked the life from the unseen sniper.
"He's alive," Leia gasped, a sob escaping her. Han did not notice her nails digging through his sleeve into his arm, the tears streaking her face. His horror had frozen everything in treacle, slow-motion, Luke somehow staggering away from Vader. "He - Luke!"
Leia lurched forward, her voice a ragged scream as they saw Luke pitch - fall - over the edge of the building, out of sight.
A five-story drop.
"LUKE!" Han's own scream in tandem with Leia's mixed with the roar of outrage from Vader - even the dark lord could not stop the Jedi's suicidal plunge off the building.
Then suddenly they were running, falling down the stairs as fast as they could move, air constricting in Han's throat as he pounded down step after step. They could get to the kid before Vader did, get him out of here. Luke was tough - he could do crazy superhuman things with those Jedi tricks of his. He might be fine. He might walk out of this - live to tell the tale of battling Darth Vader and leaping off a building.
"Han!" Leia's voice snapped warning just as a green blaster bolt lit up the sky uncomfortably close to Solo's eyes. The smuggler reeled, his night-vision destroyed by a gray line torn across his line of sight. Still, he got off four or five shots in that direction to keep their heads down.
Sitting pittins.
They reached the second floor landing, two more blaster bolts firing from an unknown assailant. Han fired blindly again and this time must have hit something, for there was a sharp cry and the firing stopped.
They reached the ground, a muddy, soupy slurry strewn with garbage and snow, the towering buildings stretching into the sky like canyon walls.
"This way," Han cried, remembering the circuitous route he and Luke had taken from their speeder, hoping it was still there, that the troopers were otherwise distracted.
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oooooooooooooooooooooo
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Darth Vader momentarily cut the jamming to call the shuttle. The Executer, his Super Star Destroyer, freshly minted from the shipyards at Kuat, had been waiting on the dark side of Third Moon, just out of orbit.
"I need a medical team to stand by to prepare for an arrival," he rumbled.
His steady breathing, regulated by machinery, gave no hint to the strange anxiety welling in the pit of his stomach. Luke lived, he could sense that. For the moment. His son's sense in the Force was dim, fading.
Distantly he noticed the boy's friends, panicked and terrified, heading down to intercept his son.
They would be sorely disappointed if they thought they would be able to get to Luke that easily.
Vader slapped the communicator on his chestplate. "Commander," he barked. "Reposition the garrison to the east and west of the passageway at five-seven-two-nine. Send the medic there immediately."
The short bark of acknowledgement and Vader turned to make his way down the building.
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oooooooooooooooooooooo
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The speeder was still there, under the snow-covered tarp whose edges fluttered lightly in the wind. Solo reached the vehicle in two long strides, flung the tarp out of the way. "Get in!" He snapped to Leia.
The Princess was already palming the door, ducking in.
Han dropped into the seat, throwing the speeder into reverse before the door had even sealed shut. "Hang on," he muttered. Luke had fallen from the far side of the opposite building. It would be a race to find out who got to him first.
"Hurry," Leia hissed beside him. "Hurry, Han."
Solo nodded, too focused to formulate a response. The speeder shot out of the alley in reverse. Peripherally, he noted two small clusters of stormtroopers react in surprise, and slowly bring their weapons to bear.
Han didn't wait for them to get the chance. He abruptly reversed direction, weaving erractly to avoid the blaster fire behind them.
Leia slammed into the side of the speeder with a cry of surprise. "Do you have to drive like a drunkard?" She snapped, fumbling for a handhold.
Solo gunned it forward. "Sorry sweetheart, but this isn't the kind of military-grade vehicle you might be used to. No shields or weaponry. I'm trying to avoid getting shot."
He skidded around the corner of the building where they'd seen Luke jump. It was a wide alleyway that couldn't quite be considered an actual street. His eyes scanned the dark, the speeder's navigator lights illuminating -
Leia cried out, "Watch out!"
Then he saw, in the gloom: Standing in front of them, just at the edge of the light, were two rows of Imperial Stormtroopers, blocking the alley, all with blasters aimed.
Solo screeched to a halt.
Luke must be behind that trooper barricade. There was a cluster of people behind the row of troopers, moving quickly, though Solo didn't see Vader's dark bulk. Even if the kid were alive, they had no way of getting to him at this point. In fact, it looked like the jig was up.
Muffled through the closed transparisteel windows, a voice over a loudspeaker ordered them to exit their vehicle or be fired upon.
"Leia?" Solo asked, without turning his head, his fingers tense on the controls. "What's our next move?"
"We're not surrendering," she hissed, voice tight, expression fixed ahead. Solo scanned the alley. It was wider, which would allow for a little - not much - maneuvering.
"Time to try to pilot this thing like the hotshot you claim to be." She didn't have to say it, Solo knew. They couldn't help Luke. He could hear the pain in her voice.
"Okay," Han muttered, fingers twitching over the joystick. "Hang on." He threw the speeder into reverse again in a screech of servos, weaving in a nauseating serpentine toward the entrance of the alley.
Blaster fire rained down, blinding, pelting the speeder, shooting through the back passenger viewport. But, like a maniac, Solo kept going.
They catapulted back out onto the dark street, this time going in the opposite direction from where they'd come. With his free hand, he freed the comlink from his pocket, thumbed the toggle.
"Chewie!" he snapped, knowing it would do him little good.
"Han!" Leia gasped, eyes locked into the nearly black sky.
Solo managed a glance. Running lights in a familiar triangle pattern, red and gold.
A ship was landing and it wasn't the Alliance's.
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oooooooooooooooooooooo
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Vader arrived composed, seemingly unhurried, to a scene of mayhem. The cluster of white-armored troopers stood, weapons ready, parting for him like a strange white sea in the darkness as he approached.
There, in the center, in olive gray fatigues and parka, lit only by two hastily-assembled work lamps, the medic was bent over a crumpled figure in the snow, barking orders to those around him.
Vader's mechanical breath caught in his throat.
Lying in the shadows, scarlet blood staining the snow beneath his head and shoulders, was Luke. His mutilated arm was sprawled away from his body, eyes closed, jaw slack. He looked dead. Vader felt the boy's life force...dim. But he was not dead.
"What is the diagnosis, medic?" he rumbled impatiently as he approached the scene, gazing guardedly down at his son. A trickle of blood ran from Luke's ear. The charred, bleeding wound on his shoulder was a dark crimson in the shadow of the emergency lamps. The boy's leg was turned at an odd angle.
The medic barely glanced up as he gingerly snapped a white cervical collar around Luke's neck, handing his assistant the small scanner. "It's too soon to tell, my Lord."
Vader closed his hand in a tight fist. "Will he live?"
A pause. The medic looked up, locked eyes with the dark face plate, expression grim. "It's too soon to tell."
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oooooooooooooooooooooo
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Weaving precariously down a narrow side-street, Han practically threw the comlink in Leia's lap. "See if they're still jamming us. Call Chewie," he hollered. "Rebels - whoever."
Her fingers closed on the device. "There are two X-Wings in orbit - stowed in a luxury yacht in - "
"Fat good that'll do us if they don't know to come help," Solo growled.
Up ahead were two figures, staggering into the street, blasters drawn, notably not dressed in Stormtrooper armor, but very clearly military...were they flagging him down? A shot-up speeder was not exactly hitchhiker material -
"General Rieekan!" gasped Leia, just as Han began to recognize the taller of the two, salt-and-pepper hair glowing in the speeder's running lights.
What in blazes was Rieekan doing here? "Is this some kind of intergalactic war reunion?" Han muttered. "Who's next - Mon Mothma?"
"Hardly," Leia retorted, Han screeching to a stop next to the two men. He palmed the controls so the rear door - shot to pieces - slid open.
"Get in!"
Both men tumbled in wordlessly, Rieekan digging his fingers into the back of the pilot seat as Solo floored the accelerator with seemingly little regard for whether his passengers had boarded or not. "It's a little air-conditioned back there - our apologies for that," he shouted over the wind. "We ran into a couple of punks who took some potshots at us."
Rieekan grimaced, his hair whipping in the wind. "Thanks for the lift."
Han knew Leia was still watching the descent of the Imperial shuttle in the rear-vid camera. A cold stone had settled in the pit of his stomach and stayed there. Either Luke was dead, or else he was alive, and now Darth Vader's prisoner. And there was nothing they could do about it but try to save their own skins and live to fight another day.
Suddenly there was an electronic squeal over the rush of the wind, the light on the comlink in Leia's hand flashing green.
Han jerked in surprise. "Chewie?"
She raised the comlink to her mouth. "Chewie - is that you?"
A static roar. Solo snatched the comlink from the Princess' grip. "Come in pal. We need pickup now. Can you track our location?"
The Wookiee growled an affirmative. But he would not be able to make a landing in the canyon.
"Fine. We'll stay out of the canyon if you hurry. We've got a whole lot of trigger-happy Stormtroopers waiting to turn us into hot slag if you don't get here fast, though."
An anguished howl. Han tossed the comlink back.
Behind him, Rieekan was coming to a similar realization that his comlink was functional again. "...Need reinforcements immediately," he growled into it, just audible over the rush of wind.
Leia twisted in her seat. "There's an Imperial shuttle just landed, bearing five-seven-two-nine. Vader has Luke."
Rieekan's eyes widened. "Vader is on the shuttle?"
"We don't know - but Luke might be. We have to stop the shuttle without destroying it."
"Vader might be on the shuttle, bearing five-seven-two-nine," the general repeated to his comlink.
"Copy," said the voice on the other end. "We'll direct our firepower on the shuttle."
"No!" Leia whirled. "Do not fire on that ship. If Luke's still alive, he's on that shuttle. Do not fire!"
Rieekan fixed his hard gaze on the Princess. "Are you sure he's alive?"
She shook her head, one hand going up to brush at the long, tangled strands of hair that had come loose, whipping across her face. Han realized it was a cover for swiping at the tears that were falling. "I - we don't know." Her voice was strong, not betraying the look Solo could see in her eyes. "Don't destroy it. He might still be alive and taken prisoner. We can get him back."
Rieekan's hard expression, boring a hole through Leia, did not change.
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oooooooooooooooooooooo
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The dark shape of the Imperial shuttle settled into the empty street, throwing snow outward in a furious wind that suddenly whipped through the alleyway. Vader's cape snapped away. The dark lord, his focus only on his son, looked down at Luke, seeing him still unmoving, his hair ruffling in the wind, skin waxen gray.
The medic, with the help of two of his assistants had lifted the young man carefully onto the fold-out stretcher, and was now rummaging through his fieldcase. "He's showing signs of traumatic brain injury and probable skull fracture. I'm going to have to intubate before we board the ship."
Vader exhaled in a hiss, turned away, an unexpected pang hitting him in the solar plexus. "Do what is necessary," he said finally.
He turned to the garrison commander. "You will leave the troops here, track down the remaining Rebels. Take them alive."
"Yes sir."
A sound, a low whine, started up over the rush of the wind. Vader cocked his head to one side, listening. It was the sound of approaching ships. They were not Imperial.
"Sir! Enemy fighters incoming, bearing six-seven-oh-three."
Vader whipped around, scanning the scene behind him; the medic, taping down the IV and handing off the saline bag to his assistant, still standing, then moving to Luke's head, laryngoscope in hand.
He turned back. "Send three squadrons on my mark."
"Sir!" the trooper saluted smartly.
"Medic," Vader rumbled, stepping closer to his son's inert body. "We must evacuate now. Can he be moved?"
The medic repositioned the endotracheal tube in his hand and shook his head. "This is a delicate procedure. If we are in a potential combat situation on board the ship, I may not be able to intubate."
The steady whine of Rebel ships grew closer. And if they were strafed by laser fire where they stood? Vader gritted his teeth. "How much time do you need?"
The medic was already positioning the oxygen mask over Luke's face, uncoiling the tubing. "Give me two minutes."
The ships' roar came directly overhead, the bright streak of laser cannon fire lighting up the sky. The ground shook with three near-hits and the ships streaked by overhead, coming around for another pass.
Vader clenched his fists. They were aiming for the shuttle. It seemed that the Alliance had no very great love for his son after all, if they were willing to risk the boy's life to get a shot at his own.
"Where are the TIEs?" he snapped to his commander, whirling away again, mostly to avoid having to watch the medic work on his son.
"My Lord, they are on their way!"
As if in response, the familiar, welcome whine of TIEs came into range, shot by overhead. The thunder of laser fire echoed in the distance.
"Sir, they are prepared to escort you to the Executor," the commander reported.
Vader turned again to the medic, taping down the vent tube and tucking the small oxygenator under his son's arm. "We're ready," he announced, activating the life-support cocoon, glancing momentarily up at the dark lord, gesturing for four soldiers to lift the corners of the gurney. With a hiss, the blue-tinged force field sprang to life in a protective shield around the narrow cot.
Determined not to look in the boy's direction again, Vader led the way to the shuttle's open ramp, the stormtroopers once again falling back.
Parting for the Imperial dark lord and his son.
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oooooooooooooooooooooo
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The X-Wings - only two of them, which made Leia suddenly wish she'd agreed to Madine's insistence that they bring a half-squadron as backup - banked into the atmosphere in a blur of running lights and a sonic boom that jolted them in their seats.
A rain of laser fire strafed down upon the street where the shuttle rested.
"Whoa, whoa, what's the big idea?" Han cried, turning the speeder sharply. They were circling back through the narrow roads, watching for the Falcon, avoiding pockets of Stormtroopers.
Leia whirled to Rieekan. "Tell them to back off - they are not to destroy that ship!" she shouted.
The General had a pained expression on his face. "Princess - " He looked like he was placating her. "If Luke is even alive - you said yourself it's highly probable that he is not - we cannot risk him falling to Vader. The risk of losing him to the Empire - " he broke off awkwardly.
Leia felt the blood drain from her face. She felt hot suddenly, even through the icy chill of the wind whipping through the cabin. Rieekan too? She thought desperately. Not a single person was on Luke's side? After all that had happened?
"No," she said in a low voice, shaking her head. Now she was starting to shiver uncontrollably. "No, you can't kill him. You can't! Not like this!"
She glanced from Rieekan to Han, piloting intently, bloodless knuckles gripping the controls, and back to the general.
"Maybe that's what they were plotting all along," Solo muttered to the viewport. "Get him in their sights and take him out. Huh, Rieekan? The assassin on the roof?"
Leia's gaze on the general hardened, hot indignant anger flooding through her limbs. "That shot was from one of our people?" she whispered.
Rieekan dropped his gaze.
"You knew about this?"
"I knew it as a contingency plan," Rieekan replied in a low voice, eyes flicking back up to her. "A last resort if you were in danger. I did not authorize the individuals assigned."
"Who did?" her voice was escalating in pitch now. "Was it Madine or Mon Mothma?"
The general's gaze dropped to the floor again.
"I was in danger," Leia's voice was now, barely audible over the rush of the wind. She was glaring daggers at Rieekan. "Luke is the one who came to rescue me. No one else from the Alliance. He put himself in danger and got captured by Vader to do that."
Rieekan met her eyes again, his face stricken. "I accept complete responsibility, Princess."
"Then call off those ships," she snapped, face hot. Her limbs felt numb and tingly, like she was not getting enough air. She felt like she could snap, launch herself at the man and throttle him for taking her friend from her.
Rieekan didn't move.
"General?" It was Han's voice. The X-Wings were coming around again for another pass. Closer now, the sound thundering through her bones, more laser fire streaking a line through the dark.
If they'd hit it, the explosion would have lit up the night, she reminded herself, forcing herself to breathe past the fear constricting her throat.
"Heads up, two-o'clock," Han snapped. She craned her neck to see.
"TIE fighters."
"And we've got the Falcon coming in just ahead," Han gestured, pointing again to the comlink in her fist. "Tell him landing coordinates five-oh-oh-eight. Rieekan, how 'bout your X-Wings do something useful and give the Falcon some cover?"
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The shuttle began its ascent just as the pair of Rebel X-Wings were coming around for another pass.
Darth Vader stood in the cockpit long enough to ascertain that they were easily routed by the four TIEs on their tail, just as seven more of the small ships appeared, settling into a V formation flanking the shuttle.
All too easy.
The Rebels, try as they might, had no hope of retrieving Skywalker. They were vastly outnumbered even before one factored in the Super Star Destroyer waiting just in-system.
Vader spun on his heel, walking the narrow corridor to the troop bay, scarcely noticing the troop captain stepping quickly out of his path or the pilot's voice over the com, ordering the passengers to secure their restraints.
The gurney, with its occupant hidden under the crinkled foil of an emergency blanket, the shimmer of the life-support pod casting a blue glow in the dimly lit bay, was secured next to the right-side troop bench, the medic seated beside his assistant, locking his flight restraints in place and scanning the feed. The faint hiss of the oxygen breather could be heard over the whine of the engines. The boy was being kept alive on a ventilator.
Like father, like son.
"Is he stable?" the dark lord asked the medic, who jumped in spite of himself, eyes darting up to the figure towering over him.
Still, the dark-haired medical officer seemed to pull himself together rather quickly. "My lord, we may be able to stabilise him if we get him into surgery within the hour."
Vader nodded shortly. "Inform the surgeons aboard the Executor to expect us. He is to have the highest-level care possible."
"Yes, my lord."
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oooooooooooooooooooooo
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Well this was starting to feel familiar, Han thought sourly as the Falcon touched down, ramp already extending. He skidded the speeder to a halt in a cloud of powdery snow, smacked the hatch controls.
The four of them tumbled out, the throbbing rumble of approaching fighters overhead thrumming through him, and staggered up the ramp, wind whipping past them.
The two X-Wings were keeping the TIEs back momentarily. Han figured they had about thirty seconds, but he intended to take full advantage of it.
He smacked the ramp controls. "Chewie, go!" He shouted. He hooked a finger at Rieekan. "Take a gunner cockpit. You," he gestured sharply at the young man he didn't recognize, who hadn't said a word since they picked him up out of the street. "Other gunwell. Leia, cockpit with me."
The ship rose unsteadily, jerking slightly as something hit the shields directly. Han seized Leia's hand - had he done that two, no three times already today? - pulled her down the corridor.
"We have to try to stop that shuttle," she said, breathless, falling into the seat behind Han's as they entered the cockpit.
Chewie was pulling the Falcon out of the atmosphere, ahead of four TIEs and two X-Wings in pursuit, the winds buffeting them.
"I hate to say it, but I don't know how you're going to do it without shooting it down," Solo muttered as he secured his restraints, hands roaming over the controls. The shuttle in the distance was lifting off. Chewie rumbled something he didn't catch.
"You've got at least three squadrons of TIEs." They weren't firing on them yet, but he figured it was only a matter of time. "We're three measly little ships and we don't - "
He broke off, as the dark side of the moon came fully into view.
There, in the black, sunless shadow, yet somehow completely visible, an outline with a thousand tiny pinpricks of light, a great arrowhead of durasteel and firepower, sat the biggest ship he'd ever seen.
"A Super Star Destroyer," Leia breathed behind him, her voice awed. "Vader's, it must be. There was a rumor one was being built on Kuat - "
"Falcon, do you copy?" a familiar voice chirped at Han's elbow.
Solo turned, his eyes darting to the screen where both X-Wings registered on his scopes. The TIEs behind were beginning to fall back, take up formation around the shuttle. They weren't even going to bother trying to engage them in battle.
"Wedge?"
"Star Destroyer up ahead," Wedge answered. "I show the distance to be in range of their tractor beams fifteen seconds at this trajectory."
The shuttle just ahead continued its majestic arc toward the waiting wedge-shaped behemoth.
"I think it's safe to say we're outnumbered," Solo announced grimly. On the planet below, the second wave of TIE fighters rose up into space, arcing toward the mammoth ship.
"I don't think there's any way we can engage," Wedge agreed.
"Luke is most likely on that shuttle," Han muttered into the com. He pursed his lips grimly at the startled string of curse words that erupted from the other Corellian.
Luke still had some allies in the Alliance.
"I don't think there's any way we can get to him like this."
Live to fight another day.
Han was silent. Peripherally, he was aware that Leia behind him had gone silent. The rock that had settled into his stomach since he'd seen Luke standing on the roof battling Vader had only seemed to become heavier. "Chewie, set course for hyperspace."
Solo twisted back, seeing the Princess's features, twisted in grief. He suddenly wanted to take her into his arms and hold her. He asked softly. "Coordinates?"
She expelled a breath, a gust of air, of desperation and shook her head. "Muundi," she whispered, swallowing.
Chewie slapped at the navicomputer, computing the course, relaying the coordinates to the two X-Wings, while Han nodded, turned his attention again to the ships before them. They peeled back to avoid getting caught in the Star Destroyer's tractor beam, a long arc away from the shuttle and the out-sized Star Destroyer.
"Live to fight another day," he whispered to himself as much as Leia.
The navicomp beeped the signal that the coords were set.
Wordlessly, eyes still on the scanners, he saw Chewie pull back on the levers to the blur of hyperspace, and he mentally sent Luke his apology.
He had tried to protect the kid, tried to keep him from his father, save him from himself.
He'd failed on all accounts.
Solo turned back to Leia, seeing her expression frozen in grief. He reached for her, pulling her to him. She did not resist
Then he did fold her into his arms, tightly. Held her as she cried.