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.

Once more, the boy's ship had disappeared from the sky. Vader had tried to hold her back, to use the Force and keep his son close where he could protect him, but Luke's half-trained efforts had prevented him from doing so.

He let his hand clutch into a fist and violently brought it down, whirling on his feet and surveying the docking bay around him. His shuttle was the most severely hit: smoke was rising from the hull, and Vader highly suspected the reactors were hit. He would have to requisition a Kattadan ship or ask for another shuttle to be sent to get back to his Star Destroyer, which was waiting in orbit. He would need to have a stern word with his officers, if they hadn't even been able to stop one cargo ship from getting past them.

But then, he should have expected nothing less from his son.

He touched their bond, prodded it a little. There was no reaction from the other side; Vader knew the connection was still there, but it was subdued, distant, and he could feel nothing from it.

This day wouldn't be completely wasted, however, he thought while watching the Alderaanian ship which had crashed a little farther. Luke's freighter had inadvertently hit her, and she was as unable to fly as Vader's shuttle was.

Dark triumph washed over him, feeding from his anger and frustration. At last, he would have proof of the princess' long-suspected treachery.

"Search that ship. Bring me all the suspicious cargo you find and take the crew into custody."

His men hurried to obey at his curt gesture, stepping over the bodies of the local guards. A little farther, the leader of the spaceport was lying motionless, a pool of blood under her. They looked like they had been shot down while trying to reach the Alderaanian ship. A shame; Vader would have liked the opportunity to interrogate them...

As he would have the princess. With the evidence he was sure to find, even the Senate couldn't have denied him that.

But the princess was gone. Her security detail had made sure of it; while he was busy battling his son, they had sacrificed themselves to give her the chance to board the freighter that had also taken Luke.

If there had been any remaining doubt that the boy was a Rebel traitor, the way he and his crew had rescued the princess from the Empire's grasp would have dispelled it forever.

Had he been a Jedi apprentice all along?

No. A Rebel was one thing; but certainly Vader would have noticed if he had previous training in the Force, wouldn't have been fooled that thoroughly. He had wondered before and dismissed the possibility; surely that hadn't been a mistake on his end. The question remained, however, of when and where he had acquired the lightsabre; but he didn't seem all that proficient in wielding it, no more than the few lessons Vader himself had imparted to him. His movements were still too wide, not precise enough, exactly like the last time they had sparred, before everything...

A new wave of anger washed over him, cold and ruthless. He'd tried to reassure Luke. He'd reached out to him, made his intentions clear, and still his son had harboured no thought but that of getting away from him. He hadn't even listened, didn't know that the Emperor himself was searching for him, that he'd be safer, far safer back with Vader –

But the boy had rejected him once again. Even now, as he desperately reached out towards their bond, he received no answer, and was left with the bitter after-taste of his terror.

As if Vader was a mortal enemy. As if he wasn't currently doing everything in his power to protect him, as if he wasn't disobeying his master and taking extraordinary risks for his sake, as if he hadn't already saved his life.

And now Luke was off in the wide galaxy again, at the mercy of any officer that would have seen the Emperor's decree demanding his death. The thought struck at his heart in terror. Any moment could see his demise, and there was nothing he could do, not even amend the order for him to be brought in alive and in his own custody instead...

Again the haunting image rose unbidden before his eyes, of Luke lying prone in his own blood, motionless, two blast holes in his back.

No. That wouldn't happen. He would get Luke back, even if he had to capture him against his will. Surely it wasn't too late to make him see reason, in a moment where he wasn't in the heat of a fight. He'd trusted him before; there was no reason Vader couldn't make him understand. It was for his own good.

"My lord." The troops' officer approached him. "We have found several medi-packs, three surgical field stations, as well as spare parts and power units closely resembling those used in military material in the Rebellion."

Vader let a vicious smile appear under the mask. Medical equipment... suited for use on a battlefield.

There. He had her at last.

If only he had her in custody, too... but it was only a question of time now. Nothing would protect her any more.

"There was also a wounded man in a bacta tank. He appears to be of Ralltiir, and we strongly suspect him to be a Rebel."

That was surprising. Why would they take one refugee with them – and use precious bacta on him no less? Why take that risk when they were already in danger, and when the man probably would have been safer on his homeworld?

Unless...

"He must know something. Take him out of the bacta. I will question him myself."

And he was going to do it now. He wouldn't have access to an IT-O droid nor to any mind-probe drugs, but it didn't matter. There was no need for it. Besides, he could feel ants crawling under his skin, an excess of energy only too eager to be released. This was the perfect opportunity to do so.

He entered the small ship as the man was lifted out of the tank, coughing and spluttering in disorientation. Despite his youth – he couldn't be more than nine or ten years older than his son – the man was bald, his skin tanned, a ring of symbols tattooed around his skull. He was completely naked, except for a piece of underwear that had also supported him while he was dunked.

Before he could catch his breath, he was brought to his knees at Vader's feet. The Sith Lord roughly caught his chin in his hand, without giving him time to pull himself together.

"Why did Princess Leia take you aboard her ship?"

The man swallowed, averted his gaze, and said nothing.

"I repeat my question," Vader growled. He grasped the man's chin tighter, eliciting a grimace from him. "What are you doing aboard the princess' ship?"

He shot a dark tendril of the Force outwards and wrapped it around his mind, seeking entrance between walls built of steely fear. The prisoner grunted. He opened his mouth as if to speak, took a breath, then spat on Vader's boots.

Vader saw red. He put his hand around the man's neck and squeezed, punishing him for the insult.

"What. Are you doing. Aboard this ship?!"

Still the man stayed silent, eyes down, his brow furrowed in anguish and effort. Vader lashed out at him in the Force, ripped and struck and tore at his mind, his rage relishing the rush of power and pain –

"No, no please –"

"I'm innocent, I'm loyal, I never betrayed you –"

"Please, I SWEAR –"

The man still hadn't uttered a word when Vader shattered his skull against the ground.

.

"I do know a place where there is no Imperial presence whatsoever."

The princess looked pale, her brow furrowed. It was obvious something was worrying her. And yet here she was, offering them exactly what they needed... or was it?

Luke frowned, staring at her, his hand still on the dome of his little droid friend. How had she managed to get on board? And when?

First Weefour, then her... And Luke had no idea how it happened. Their escape had been such a blur. He barely remembered anything of it, except the panic and the huge shape of Vader reaching out to capture him. It was disorienting, as if he'd lost a part of his life, as if there was an amount of time everybody had lived but him, even though he should have.

He wanted to ask Han or Chewie about it, to get these precious minutes back, to dispel the impression of loss and emptiness he felt.

Instead he scoffed.

"Some Rebel stronghold, I bet," he spat. "Or another miracle."

The princess pursed her lips.

"If my offer doesn't satisfy you, you are more than welcome to go back where you came from, although I would kindly ask you to drop me in another spaceport before."

"Oh, so now you consider the danger? What happened to 'the Senate will protect me', to 'I won't allow you to be punished for my actions'? You were the one who led them to us!"

He was lashing out, he knew he was. This was unfair, but he couldn't find it in himself to stop.

"And now I am offering you to lead you away from them," she said, her tone as calm and patient as it had been since the start. It drove Luke up the wall.

A warm weight on Luke's shoulder stopped whatever he'd been about to retort. He looked up; Chewie growled a soft reassurance, squeezing his shoulder. Luke offered him a tiny smile and leant in his grounding grasp. The princess was still looking at him, studying him, her expression unreadable.

"We'll hear it," Han said. The princess turned towards him, and Luke felt the muscles of his shoulders relax.

"I just managed to raise my father, Viceroy Bail. My ship made contact with him, but too late. They never made it off Kattada."

Luke tried to repress the flash of vague guilt that had awakened in him at these words. That was bad news indeed...

"At this time, Vader must have found our cargo. I would offer to take you to Alderaan, but I am afraid this means I am compromised. My father forbade me to return, lest the Imperials be waiting for me there."

"So where would you take us?" Luke asked.

Leia didn't immediately answer. She looked at him for a while longer, biting her lower lip.

"I would rather not trust you with this information, but I have no other choice. You are my only hope."

"So it is a Rebel base," Luke cut her off in disbelief. "That's your idea of a safe place?"

"You won't find much safer, or rather a place that has more interest to keep hidden from the Empire. We're prepared to evacuate swiftly if need be, and we have many soldiers dedicated to protecting it. You need not fear to be caught there."

Luke scoffed, rolled his eyes and turned away from her. A Rebel base, a safe place. As if the Empire wasn't looking for it most zealously. Being caught there was an assured death sentence.

"That's an awful risk you're taking there, Your Highnessness," Han intervened, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. "I'm sure the Empire would pay a heavy price for this information."

"And if I understand well, so would your friend, if you went to them to sell it."

Luke, Han and Chewie exchanged a glance. She was right, of course. Ice settled into Luke's entrails once more.

The princess was still looking at him, her head tilted on the side as if she was trying to decipher him.

"You're a Jedi, aren't you?"

The laugh that escaped Luke at that was harsh and strained, and surprised him as much as Leia seemed to be.

"No. No, I'm certainly no Jedi." He rose up, started pacing across the passenger hold. "Neither am I a Rebel. I won't go there."

"You won't be asked to serve," Leia said, frowning. "If you could only bring me there, you would be granted shelter and due compensation. We will not force you to fight."

"I don't want to associate with Rebels at all," Luke spat. "I won't do business with a band of terrorists and murderers, of irresponsible agitators too busy with their high-and-mighty ideals to realise the true cost of their actions."

He held the princess' icy gaze with a glare of his own, aware he'd just insulted her but unable to care. Restless anger was invading his bones once more, like ants in his limbs that made him want to scream, to fight against a foe he couldn't even identify.

"You're certainly doing a good impression of an Imperial," she replied. "You talk just like them."

Luke gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, his back tense and ramrod straight, unable to understand the shame and humiliation he felt as these words. It was true. He was loyal to the Empire, he always had been. Whatever they thought about it, he didn't care.

"Enough of that," Han intervened, putting himself between them. "There's no need for insults. We'll get you to your planet, princess, no need to get all fussy. But we'll expect that shelter and compensation you talked about."

Leia nodded, seemed to calm down a little; but Luke's blood froze in his veins.

"What? No!" he said, incensed and betrayed. "No, we won't!"

"I'm still the captain, and I say we will," Han retorted. "It's the best deal we have at the moment."

"I am not setting foot on a Rebel base," Luke protested, his voice shooting upwards.

Han exchanged a glance with Chewbacca, who took the princess to the cockpit, quietly asking her the coordinates for the jump. Luke's stomach fell even lower, if that was possible.

"If you wanna stay stuck in the ship for the whole of our stay, feel free. I see a job opportunity, I take it. It's either that or going back to Jabba, and that may not be so good for our health either."

Luke scoffed.

"You've just got the hots for her," he snapped, gesturing towards the door of the cockpit where the princess had disappeared with Chewbacca.

"Dammit, Luke, we're doing this for you!"

Luke gaped, taken aback by Han's shout. He crossed his arms, withdrew his head into his shoulders.

"Yeah, I'm sure," he scoffed, averting his eyes.

"You really think we're doing so much to avoid the Imps just for the heck of it?" Han continued, his face incredulous. Luke couldn't hold his gaze. "We never had this much trouble with them before. Chewie and I may not be in perfect terms with them, goes with the job, but they don't have a mark on our heads! You're the one risking the most here, and the least you could do would be not throwing a tantrum at potential jobs that could be saving your neck!"

Luke closed his eyes, fighting against the anger and despair that threatened to overwhelm him. So that was how it was. There was nothing he could do.

"Okay," he whispered, still not looking at Han. He didn't want him to see in his eyes that it was far from such a thing.

"Luke?" Han sounded uncertain all of a sudden.

"I said it's okay. It's fine. I understand."

Before Han could ask more questions, Luke ran out of the passenger hold, clumsily shoving him as he went in his haste to go away.

He took a few quick steps in the corridor, turned around, then went back to his first trajectory. For the first time, it struck him how small a ship such as this one was. The freighter was by no means tiny. To the contrary, Luke knew it to be of a rather respectable size compared to others of her class. Still, he felt hemmed in, trapped, with nowhere to go to escape his present company.

He could go to his cabin, he supposed. The thought didn't appeal to him. Everything on a ship was calculated to take as little room as possible, and the bunks were small, with just enough space to lie down and sleep. Luke suffocated there. It wouldn't help his current need for space and quiet.

He ended up collapsing in one of the cargo holds, sitting on the floor, his back against the work station. He would gladly have tinkered with something, taken his mind off his current emotions, but there was nothing for him to do. No broken accessories, no bits and pieces to repair, nothing to soothe the constant buzz in his mind and lighten the tired weight that bore down on his thoughts.

He let out a sigh, but it didn't really relieve the knot in his guts. Somewhere, in the very back of his mind, he could understand Han's reasoning, and yet his decision, somehow, just felt plain wrong. He wanted to go back and yell at him, to explain to him in detail why the Rebels were evil, everything they had done, all the people they'd killed. And all for what? For nothing. They just couldn't accept that another power than their precious, inefficient Republic brought order to the galaxy. If not for them, there would be peace. It made Luke sick to think of helping them in any capacity, to a point he himself couldn't completely comprehend, and part of him felt deeply betrayed that Han had accepted it.

He was somewhat angry at himself for not telling him all that, for not arguing more; but at the moment itself, there had been but a blank in his mind, a desire to get out of the argument as quickly as possible. Even now, his reasons not to want to work with them were frenzied and muddled together, the arguments circling in his mind without order.

And why should he have fought, anyway? It wasn't as if it would have changed anything. Han wouldn't have believed him, wouldn't have listened to him, wouldn't have trusted him. It wouldn't have been any use, so Luke had truly made the right decision by just shutting up and leaving, because nothing he could have said would have made any difference. Better to save himself the humiliation and spare his energy.

And Han was doing his best. He was just trying to survive, like all of them were. It really hadn't been fair of Luke to lash out at him like that. What he'd said was right, anyway: Luke was the only reason they were in so much trouble with the Empire. They'd be far better off without him. Why hadn't they dropped him in a spaceport and left him behind yet?

Luke should have left them long ago. He should have pretended to find a better deal, or claim to be done with them. But he'd been a cowardly leech instead, unable to give up the warmth, the comfort and the stability Han and Chewie provided, even while knowing perfectly well it was at their expense.

And now there was no more chance of leaving, because they were heading to a Rebel base and wouldn't stop on any other planet before that –

Luke was no Rebel. But perhaps he was no less despicable than them.

He sighed once more. It was as if there was too much air in his lungs, with too much pressure inside his chest, but no amount of breathing out seemed to help. He brought his knees up and put his arms on them, hiding his face in his forearms.

A small, familiar beep made him raise his head again and brought a thin smile on his lips.

"Hey, Weefour," he whispered.

The droid came to bump against his legs, trilling concerned inquiries. The motion, the sounds were so well-known to him he couldn't help the small, strangled laugh that came out of his throat.

"I'm glad you're here. I've missed you."

Weefour replied in his usual chirpy way. The little astromech had always been there for him, Luke realised; he was the most, maybe the only, loyal friend he had.

He leant his forehead against Weefour's dome, letting the cool contact wash over him and soothe some of his tension.