Star Wars belongs to Lucasfilm Ltd., itself property of The Walt Disney Company. I make no lucrative nor commercial use of my writings in relationship with the Star Wars license.
Tatooine's atmosphere was trembling near the jagged horizon as they walked the narrow path towards Jabba's palace. Luke hadn't missed the sweltering heat that reigned as soon as both suns were in the sky; he buried his face deeper in the hood of Ben Kenobi's cloak, taking back the familiar habit of seeking shade wherever he could find it.
"We only lost about a tenth of it," Han said. "Could've been worse. For a while I thought we'd have to throw it all out."
Chewie let out a groan of approval.
None of that reduced the pang of guilt in the pit of Luke's guts, though, as the spice in question had been burnt during his outburst with the Force. He kept silent, walking in front of the others, glad his face was concealed from them.
"But I'm still not sure it's a good idea to visit Jabba inside his lair when he's gonna want our skins for it anyway."
"Trust me," Luke intervened. "I have a plan."
It was the least he could do, considering their cargo loss was his fault. Thankfully, Han didn't argue again.
They arrived in front of the huge gate, which was easily thrice as tall as even Chewbacca. Han reached out and knocked three small times against the door; as soon as he'd retracted his hand, a strange, round microphone came out of it.
"Coo sa uba an choy naga?"
Han cleared his throat before replying.
"Han Solo, with first mate Chewbacca and crew mate Luke. We come to bring Jabba the spice he commissioned us."
Silence on the other end of the line, then the microphone retracted back into the door without an answer.
Han turned towards them, similar confusion on all their faces.
"That went well, I guess?"
Just as Luke was about to answer, a noise made him turn back. In a great ruckus of machinery, the door came up inch by inch, revealing projections down the door that looked a little like the teeth of a wide mouth opening, then stopped at the top with a loud clang.
Chewie said something Luke didn't understand.
"Yeah," Han replied. "Nothing for it."
Cautiously, they entered what looked what a gaping maw, leaving behind the bright and heavy sunlight to enter the shadows. Luke shivered; was it only from the cold, or also from the weight of the atmosphere, he couldn't tell. He wrapped himself tighter in his cloak.
They walked down the corridor, which faintly smelled like mould and rot, before arriving in a wider hall. Several bounty hunters and other criminals were standing in the shadows, faint music playing while dancers were performing. From the corner of his eye, Luke saw Jabba's majordomo, an albino Twi'lek clad in black with pale, long-nailed fingers coming out of fingerless gloves, coming next to them to inquire after their spice; Han gave it to him.
The three of them stepped forward, slalomed between a few gangsters before standing in front of a platform where the enormous Jabba was – sitting? standing? sprawling? It was hard to tell, with the way he occupied the whole space, a huge slimy slug staring down at lesser criminals with his bulbous, glassy eyes.
"Solo!" he exclaimed when he saw them arrive. "Koose uba ma spastika?"
For a second a horrible doubt came into Luke's mind, as he realised he didn't have any of the spice on him any longer; what had they done with it? What had happened?
"Yeah, I did," Han answered, not bothering with formality. "Gave it to big ugly white there."
Luke relaxed. Oh, that was right; they'd given it to Jabba's servant, who currently seemed to be inspecting the bags Han had given him, a frown on his face. He'd seen him do it not five minutes ago.
"Now's make or break," Han whispered to his companions, leaning slightly in Luke's direction while still looking at the scene happening in front of them, all three tense and anticipative.
The Twi'lek – Bib Fortuna, Luke suddenly remembered Han telling him – came closer to Jabba and told him something neither of them could hear. Jabba looked at them again.
"Ya sa con tah haku jee naga!"
Fierfek. He'd noticed. Luke did his best to keep his face impassive.
"Of course it's the amount you wanted," Han replied, his voice forcefully offended in a way that had Luke use all his willpower to hold back a groan. Sure, that was believable. "What do you mean, there's less than you wanted? It's exactly as much as the dealer gave us!"
"Chess ko, Solo," Jabba said, drawing out the name in a threatening way that had Han's badly acted indignation die out. "Nopa foonta sa azalus."
"That wasn't failure! Jabba, I swear. Must be your guy there that took it! Have you seen his eyes, red like that, there's no way he doesn't do spice."
Jabba laughed; but it was a cruel laugh, forced and insincere in an indescribable way, and Luke had a very bad feeling about it. This wasn't going to end well; the Hutt was still entertained, still felt like indulging them, but the unpleasant sensation in the pit of Luke's guts told him it wouldn't last, and they were already as good as dead.
"Han..." he whispered in warning. Unfortunately, Han just ignored him and kept going.
"No, really! You can't just accuse us of stuff like that after so much loyal service, Jabba –"
"Powerful and mighty Jabba," Luke cut him off, deliberately projecting his voice over his. He tried to make a step forward, but Han put a hand on his forearm with a warning glance, then pointed his chin at the ground where Luke was just going to walk. There, carefully hidden, was some sort of grating Luke didn't particularly want to know what was under. He nearly imperceptibly nodded at Han in gratitude before turning back towards Jabba.
"We do not mean to insult you or deceive you in any way – that was the amount your dealer gave us. He told us there may not seem to be as much, but it is of so much better quality that one needs less of it for the same result, and it will be as if you had received more. We, perhaps in ignorance, decided to take the bargain, wanting only the best for Your Exaltedness."
There was a tense silence, during which Luke held Jabba's gaze; then the Hutt spoke again.
"Uba sa ma kankee goo," he said, and the apparent approval reassured Luke somewhat. "Um choy copah che chuba?"
Luke held up his hands in the air.
"I don't ask for more than what was given. We are only the errand boys. We were already lucky to get the stuff. He nearly refused to give it to us, claiming you hadn't paid him his dues – but we knew such a thing couldn't be true of your greatness."
The last sentence Luke couldn't help but let escape in a very pointy and sarcastic way, so that for a second he wondered if he wasn't going too far; Han certainly seemed to seem so, holding Luke's shoulder in a way that made him want to bolt. Thankfully, Jabba only seemed amused by the barb.
"Soong bargon," he said. "Ateema uba ma pateesa. Andoba goola poonoo chone sa mee jewz ku."
Luke had to hold back a sigh of relief. He was letting them go; his bet had paid off.
"Thank you for your magnanimity," Han said with a flourished bow that Luke followed.
But Jabba was no longer listening to them. He waved his hand in dismissal and turned back towards his attendant. Gamorrean guards came threateningly closer to them, pushing them towards the exit, but they didn't need much encouragement to leave the sinister premises.
Luke squinted against the bright light of the desert, the heat of the twin suns, now high in the sky, hitting him in the face.
"I can't believe he didn't even try to have us arrested," Han said. Chewie concurred. "Well done, kid. You had him pretty wrapped around your finger."
Luke ducked his head, both pleased and embarrassed.
"I've lived here most of my life. You learn how to handle him, eventually. Either flattery or brute force tends to do the trick; a mix of both gives the best results."
Han and Chewie exchanged an impressed look.
"Well, you may just have saved our skins," he said. "But maybe we should lay low for a while anyway, just in case he decides he wants our heads after all. What do you think about a change of scenery?"
Chewie expressed his approval. Luke shrugged.
"Sure. I don't like working for Jabba, I'll be happy to move."
Han nodded.
"I have some contacts on Kattada, there's a good spaceport there on which I'm sure we'll find work easily. The Empire usually stays out of those parts."
Chewie expressed his approval. Luke absently acquiesced, staring in front of him. The sky was as blue as it always was, the sand of the dunes shining white-gold at the horizon while the suns rose above their heads, increasing the temperature to soon unbearable levels. Everything about the planet was hostile and wild; Luke remembered the numerous times he'd wanted to leave, back during his childhood, before everything. He thought of his uncle and aunt's farm, abandoned in the middle of the desert, and felt a painful squeeze around his heart.
No, he wouldn't miss Tatooine.
They arrived in the spaceport of Haleoda, the main spaceport of Kattada, after three days. Han didn't push the hyperdrive too much; they still had enough supplies for them not to have to hurry about finding work. Besides, Han was adamant they were going to be employed pretty quickly.
"You're sure this won't end up like your last contact?" Chewbacca asked him sarcastically. "I would like not to repeat the experience. By the way, it's your turn."
Han rolled his eyes.
"C'mon, that was one time," he said, then looked at his pieces on the Dejarik board, before raising his eyes to Chewie again. "How was I supposed to know he'd still be mad at me after all this time?"
Luke snorted a laugh.
"You never expect people to be mad at you, even when they have reasons to."
"Well, she doesn't have any. And she's pretty influential on Kattada, too," Han replied, then moved his Grimtaash. "Look how you react to that, fuzzball!"
Luke rose his eyebrows.
"She?"
"Trouble is guaranteed then," Chewbacca quipped, and Luke was happy to understand the Shyriiwook in the quiet of the ship. He played, and his move made Han groan.
"Damn, hadn't seen that one coming," he mumbled, before registering what his friend had said. "Hey! I do not leave every woman I know on bad terms!"
"Just most of them," Luke retorted. He reached out a hand when he saw what Han was about to do. "Watch out – you're gonna get forked if you do that –"
"I know, I know, I just saw it," Han said, but he retracted himself anyway.
Just at that moment, the hyperspace alarm sounded from the cockpit. Luke turned his head towards it.
"Already? Which jump is it?" Han asked, torn from his game.
Luke bit his lip. Wasn't it the first? He didn't recall any previous alarm...
"The last one," Chewie said to Luke's surprise, rising from his seat and heading towards the cockpit. "We've arrived. I was three moves away from winning anyway."
"Sure," Han said with a falsely exasperated sigh. He exchanged a nonplussed look with Luke, mouthing "I let him win" that Luke absolutely didn't believe, then followed Chewie, the young man close behind him.
Chewbacca was right: in front of them was the turquoise surface of their destination. They launched the landing procedure, both of them operating together while Luke took his place in the seat behind them.
As they approached, they could see the actual land appear in front of them, islands of various shapes and sizes covered in beaches and in luxuriant tropical vegetation. Buildings were scattered here and there among nature; glass roofs supported by metal arcs and arabesques stood in the middle of palm trees and tall, colourful flowers.
They were soon guided to land on one among several circular platforms that seemed to rise directly from the ocean itself, joined together with bridges. The one they came on was a little wider than the Falcon and rather on the outside of the spaceport.
When they left the recycled air of the ship to breathe in the warm and sea-smelling wind, Luke caught himself wishing he was wearing less layers. It was certainly less hot here than on Tatooine, but it was still quite a difference from the cold of space, and he found himself wishing he could enjoy it fully. Still, he didn't dare take off his hood, out of fear onlookers would catch sight of his face. He was aware the fact he was travelling with Han and Chewbacca must be a certain giveaway for anybody truly looking for him, but that reasoning didn't make him feel more comfortable coming in full view of people.
They had only taken a few steps off the ship when what seemed to be a greeting party came in their direction. Four of the people were clad in the same blue tunic, baggy trousers and boots, with fezzes on their heads that had scarves descending in their backs to the middle of their shoulders. Out of the other three, one was a man with a cap and a dark brown vest; the others were women dressed in light and airy clothes, suitable for leisure and holiday in such a climate. One was blonde and wore a salmon one-piece suit with wide trouser legs; the other, about a couple inches less tall, had elaborately braided brown hair and a white long-skirted dress, that with its high collar and long sleeves would have looked too warm for the weather if it hadn't seemed to be made of the finest silk.
"Han!" the blonde woman came forward, with an assurance and a confidence that spoke of a position of authority. "What a good surprise! It has been forever since you visited Kattada. Is that a new ship?"
Han exchanged a discreet "I told you so" look with Chewbacca. Luke was only half reassured, considering the sharp, inquisitive look the woman was gauging him with, and that he did his best to meet without showing any of his own wariness. She hadn't said anything, and was acting outwardly nice and relaxed, but Luke could see in her posture that she didn't trust him; that was fair, he guessed, considering he trusted her no more.
"Yeah," Han replied, completely oblivious to the quiet exchanged transpiring between his contact and his newest crew mate. "She's a beauty, huh?"
"You could say that," the woman replied, and Luke had to hold in a snort. She exchanged an amused glance with him, but didn't seem to drop any of her walls otherwise. "What are you doing here?"
"Looking for work," Han replied. "I remember Haleoda to be quite the haven, the last time I came here, as much for its hospitality as for its opportunities. You showed me most of them, back then... tell me, how's life treating you?"
"Quite well, thank you," she smiled, full of teeth as a shark's, and Luke wondered if she had once been a smuggler too. "As it happens, I've recently been elected leader of this city – so you could say I'm in charge these days. And you? I see you've made quite a few upgrades too. New ship, new... crew members?"
Her gaze drifted to Luke again, and this time Han took the hint.
"Oh, right, you haven't met Luke and Chewbacca. We've been travelling together for a while now," he said, but Luke was most grateful for what he didn't – that he'd known Chewie for much longer than Luke, and that Luke had only come onboard a few weeks prior, for all that it felt longer. "Luke, Chewie, this is Mia Ikova."
"Very pleased to meet you, Chewbacca, Luke," Mia Ikova said, shaking their hands. She had a firm grip Luke did his best to match, but he couldn't read anything behind her apparent cordiality. He hoped she wasn't secretly an Imperial or a sympathiser, or that she wasn't aware of the bounty on his head...
No. this was ridiculous, of course. Han wouldn't bring him into a lion's den. And the lady seemed rich enough not to need to sell out someone like him for sustenance...
Still, it didn't prevent his guts from tightening and his brain from working on hyperdrive.
"I must say you couldn't have come at a better time," she turned back to Han. "I also have someone to introduce you to. She's looking for a discrete and trustworthy smuggler for a job she didn't have time to tell me anything about yet."
As she talked, the other woman came closer, and Luke immediately understood what was going on: during the usual greetings, she had been watching and listening, deliberately staying away and making her own opinion while Mia Ikova took all of their attention. Now that she actually wanted to be seen, however, she exuded an aura of power that was difficult to ignore, greater even than the other woman's. It was clear she was used to commanding.
"I'm Leia of Alderaan," she said, shaking each of their hands.
Oh. Luke had thought he recognised her. Han raised an eyebrow, smirking, a strange light in his eye. He wasn't so unsubtle or rude as to check her out, but Luke pointedly refrained from exchanging a glance with Chewbacca anyway; it was obvious he wasn't indifferent to her.
There would be much teasing about it, later. Han had a talent to be attracted to the most unlikely people, but an actual princess was a new one.
"Alderaan, huh? That's a long way from here."
Leia didn't seem unbalanced by Han's obvious interest. She offered him a small smirk of her own, but remained otherwise completely serious.
"Indeed. I am on a mission of the highest importance, Captain. Mia greatly sung your praises to me; I hope you will measure up to the task."
Han clearly seemed torn between being charmed or annoyed.
"Bring it on, princess, I'm sure there's nothing you can ask that'll intimidate me."
This time, Luke couldn't resist rolling his eyes. Next to him, Chewie discretely chuckled.
Still, Luke hoped he hadn't forgotten what they were here for, and wouldn't rashly agree to anything without consulting them. They'd talk to him about it, of course, but Luke would rather avoid the awkwardness.
"Not here," Mia Ikova intervened. "We'll be much better in the comfort of my palace, don't you think?"
"Certainly," Leia agreed before they could get a word in. Luke felt intensely uneasy at the thought of having to follow them blindly; he threw a look at Han, but he only seemed mildly irritated about it.
He decided to go along with it for now, despite all his gut feelings. These had been wrong before, and he didn't really have a choice, did he?
Luke kept a discrete hand on his blaster during the whole short speeder trip to Mia Ikova's castle, a dark green building in the same style as the spaceport, with ivy climbing on its front. For a second, Luke thought they were going to be asked to leave their weapons out, and he was relieved when no such request was made of them. They entered through the front entrance and were led to a wide conservatory giving view on a luxurious garden, furnished with comfortable seats, some of the local plants, and a table on which refreshments were set.
"Please make yourselves at home," Mia Ikova told them, opening a bottle. "Our Telatti fruit is of season, and our wine is local too."
Luke declined, still unable to get rid of his wariness, although he did take off his cloak. The princess also turned the drink down, but Han and Chewie both accepted a glass.
"So, down to business," Mia Ikova said, turning towards Leia. "Why don't you tell us more about that mysterious job of yours?"
The princess gave her a tight-lipped smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"I need certain shipment delivered in a high-risk sector," she said, looking at the three of them, "somewhere I cannot go myself."
That hint of challenge came onto Han's face once more, even as he relaxed into his seat. Luke was certain the "high-risk sector" part of Leia's sentence hadn't even registered in his brain. He sought Chewbacca's gaze, desperate to know if he wasn't the only one with a modicum of self-preservation.
"How much for it?" Han lazily asked, but there was no fooling his crewmates. His attraction to this girl is going to get us killed, Luke thought, his heart accelerating in fear. He's going to want to take it no matter how much she asks, just to impress her.
"Eight thousand, all paid in advance."
At that even Luke and Chewbacca sat a little straighter. Okay, that was already a better argument.
"Tell us more," Han continued in his drawl that Luke had learnt to recognise as meaning I am very interested but don't want you to see it. "What's in this shipment and where do you need us to bring it?"
"It's medical supplies and spare parts. Nothing incriminating on its own. But I need it to reach the insurgents on Ralltiir... past the Imperial blockade."
A cold chill ran down Luke's spine.
"No. That's out of the question," he snapped. "We won't do it."
He kept his eyes on the frowning princess, ignoring the astonished gazes of the others he could feel on him.
"Eight thousand credits, Luke. Can we perhaps think about it a little more before refusing –"
"She wants us to get past an Imperial blockade!"
Luke exchanged a pleading look with Han, then Chewie. Febrile anger was rising from inside him, as well as a certainty: they couldn't take this job.
"That's doable with a few tricks. Believe me, I don't want to get caught any more than you do –"
"That'll be without me," Luke said, suddenly fed up with the whole thing. Overwhelmed with a need to move, he rose from his seat and took a few steps away from them. "I'm not taking any part in this."
He took a deep breath, rolled his stiff shoulders, clenched and unclenched his fists before clasping his hands together in front of him. It infuriated him that Han and Chewie were even considering this, couldn't they see how terrible an idea it was –
"Luke..."
"I thought you had no love for the Empire," the princess intervened, glancing at Mia Ikova before her eyes settled back on Luke.
Luke held her gaze as she calculated, gauged him. A wave of fury rushed over him.
"I am no Rebel," he spat before he could help himself.
She jerked and stiffened, her gaze colder than ever, and Luke wondered with some astonishment if he had perhaps hit the nail right on its head.
For a second, he wondered if she was going to try to have them killed for compromising her secret, for refusing a job she clearly couldn't afford people knowing about. His hand jerked upwards, but he stopped himself short of showing he'd been reaching for his blaster.
"I see," she said, regal and judgemental in a way that made Luke's blood boil.
He turned away from her and took a few angry steps, enraged for a reason he couldn't understand. What nerve she had, asking this of them! Why couldn't she go herself if it was that important, instead of putting them at risk, instead of nearly tricking them into helping Rebels?
No. Luke refused it. He'd fallen low – living on the run, in criminality, heck, taking jobs from kriffing Jabba the Hutt – but not that low. Not low enough to work for Rebels. The very thought infuriated him to a point he knew to be ridiculous, but he couldn't help it.
"Well, I guess I will just have to find someone else," the princess said. "In the meantime –"
Luke didn't hear the rest of her sentence. A tug on his mind sent his heart racing, his limbs freezing.
That sensation...
No, no, no, no, no –
Without thinking, he came next to Han and grabbed his arm, panic searing his mind.
"We've got to leave," he said, his voice strangled.
He tried to withdraw from the Force, to control its pull on him. But he didn't have any power over it, just like he hadn't for months. It grew, inflated with his fear, and he was helpless before it.
The presence was still there, dark and commanding tendrils wrapping around his own, searching contact, familiar and terrifying.
Blood was climbing up the back of his throat, and his knees buckled before he managed to steady them with great difficulty. He was going to be sick.
"Luke? Luke, are you all right? Luke?"
He barely heard Han talk to him, spots dancing before his vision. He couldn't breathe.
No – no – go away – go away –
"Madam Ikova," an unknown man's voice registered distantly, as if through a broken comm, and yet his words threw ice into Luke's veins. "There was an Imperial communication – a Star Destroyer has just entered orbital space –"
Luke grabbed Han's shirt with white-knuckled fists, leaning on him for support. "We've got to leave now," he repeated, frantic, throwing an imploring look at him, then at Chewie. The presence was still grabbing at his mind, parasitic and overbearing. He couldn't breathe.
"He's here."