A little before sundown Luke located a small stream, shallow but clear. He refilled his canteen, then cleaned his hands and face from the grime and blood they'd accumulated since the crash. Somehow just the feel of the cold water rinsing his skin was rejuvenating. He sat under a nearby tree, large with protruding roots that would make decent shelter for the night. It was almost comfortable. And the air, interrupted only by the low hum of insects, was peaceful; odd, given his circumstances. Artoo stood a way off, monitoring.
There was something almost comforting about not having any real control of the situation. All he had to do was stay out of the Imperials' hands. Fighting off an elite squadron, or even just Darth Vader, wasn't going to be an option.
His hand fell back to his lightsaber and unhooked it from his belt. Still, if he was forced to fight, he would. Maybe he didn't have the expert skill to engage in a proper lightsaber duel, but he had gotten better at deflecting blaster-fire with his lightsaber; practicing in his off-hours with Han's training droid had paid off in the last several months, even if he had been left without Ben's help after Yavin. And in some previous scrapes, he had even managed to deflect a few bolts of laser fire back to the shooters. He might not be able to take on a squad by himself but he could definitely buy enough time to get away.
Artoo twittered in alarm and Luke sat bolt upright. Even as he reacted he could hear the roaring TIE engines fading in. Luke rolled under the small cavern of roots and dirt a quarter-second later, hastily withdrawing as deep into the damp recesses under the tree. Artoo followed after him but there was no way his design would follow him to negotiate his way underground beside Luke. Briefly, Luke imagined flipping Artoo onto his side and then dragging him down into the shelter, but the TIEs had already screeched by overhead. The engines faded just as quickly as they passed.
Luke remained frozen in place, half listening for the sound of the engines again, and half still recovering from their sudden emergence. There was no way to tell if they were the same fighters from earlier or not, but it didn't really matter.
Heart thudding, huddled in the little cavern of gnarled roots and damp, mossy earth, he didn't feel relief at surviving another close call. He just felt depleted, and cold. It wasn't the subtle cold of the Dark Side that had tempted him on occasion. It was the chilling flush of adrenaline. He recognized it from many near-misses and stupid stunts in the past--both as a member of the Alliance and as a reckless kid pulling dangerous stunts on Tatooine. It was a sensation of lightness, as if he had detached slightly from his body. His skin was coated afresh in a cool layer of sweat.
Luke didn't know why it was hitting him now. But he lay in hiding for several moments. The thick scent of the moist earth helped him focus a little.
Don't lose your nerve now, he told himself. It would take only one moment's panic to slip up. Whatever weird psychological effect was going on, he'd have to wait till he was safely back with the Alliance to figure it out.
"Yep," Black Five said as he patted the scorched and crumpled shell of the starfighter. "It's Skywalker's X-wing, all right."
Black Five and Black Six had so far been the pairing with the most luck in their search. At least, Five would have called their success luck. Black Leader would say that their good fortune was actually the will of the Force. Five thought of the Force as just another interpretation for luck, but he made sure to never voice that opinion.
"Glad we got a visual just before dark," Six said.
"We" was a generous way of putting it. Five had totally missed the downed fighter; Six had spotted it. Something about the way the brush had been laying had looked wrong to him. They'd made another pass, then landed. Neither dared to call it in to Black Leader until they were on site and sure, though. Skywalker made their boss act more--intense than was usual. There wasn't any point in riling him up without reason.
But now they had confirmation. With another pilot's fighter already discovered, and the Death Star painted on the side of this one, it had to be Luke Skywalker's.
Six activated the comm unit in his helmet and switched to the group frequency. "Black Six to Black Leader," he said, with a professional lack of excitement.
Both of them waited. Then their comms crackled with that familiar initial rush of modulated breathing. Sometimes it still made Five nervous, if he focused on it too much. It drew a person in almost hypnotically.
Black Leader's voice filled the space of their helmets like a presence all its own. "Tell me that you have good news for me, Black Six," he said. Six didn't flinch at the implied threat left open.
"We do, my lord. Five and me have just located Skywalker's X-wing. There's no astromech unit inside but there are some treads that follow some footprints into the trees. Looks like we found his trail."
"Excellent," Black Leader breathed into the comm. "Send me your coordinates. We'll estimate Skywalker's zone of travel and converge around him. Search his fighter thoroughly for anything that may be of importance. I will be there shortly."
"Yes, my lord. We'll tear the X-wing apart. If there's anything valuable left behind we'll find it."
After a few more directions, to them and the Squadron as a unit, Black Leader signed off.
"Okay," Six said. "Let's tear this piece of junk apart."
"With pleasure."
They started on the cockpit. With the spare tools in their TIEs, it was easy to remove the broken and cracked cockpit canopy and let it fall to the ground with a dull crunch. Five leaned in and ducked his upper half into the narrow cockpit. He tapped at the ship computer; on the off chance it was left still functional, he might be able to recover the ship's log. Six looked over the damage done to the fighter's bulkheads, in a crouch near the S-foils.
"Oh, by the way," Five said, turning to look at him, "thanks for mentioning me."
"What?" Black Six looked up from his inspection and managed to convey confusion with just one micro tilt of his helmet. "What do you mean?"
"For saying that we found the X-wing," Five said. "You were the one who spotted it and pointed it out. I'd already flown past it."
"We're paired together." Six shrugged and returned his attention to the fighter. "It's a team effort."
"Well, I'm just saying you didn't have to. You'd have been right to say you found it and not mention me."
"Oh, come on," Six said. "This isn't like the petty stuff at the academy we used to have to put up with on Montross. We're in Black Squadron. We're one unit and that's it."
"All right, all right. But if I'm the one who gets to stun Skywalker, I'll share the credit with you."
Six shook his head exasperatedly, though the action seemed slightly hyperbolic. "Okay, pilot. Let's not get mushy. This is the biggest mission of our careers and it's not over yet."
"Right, right."
The computer was fried. It had been a long shot to expect Skywalker to leave it operable. But he'd had to check. Five turned his attention to the pilot's seat. While reaching into the crevices between cushion and ship, his fingers hit something stiff but pliant.
"Now what do we have here--" He forced his fingers closed around it despite the narrow space--the object was about ten millimeters thick.
"Find something?" Six said. "Secret plans, maybe?"
"Some case or book, I think." Five pulled it out, scraping his knuckles slightly even with his thick gloves. He held it up. It was an old-fashioned journal--pages crinkled at the edges, the leather cover and wrinkled. It looked more like some antique artifact than some Rebel pilot's personal effects.
"No way," Six said. He cursed mildly. "Don't tell me those actually are secret plans."
Five looked over the cover. In Aurabesh someone had carefully stenciled "The Journal of Ben Kenobi." He read it out loud to Six.
"Who's Ben Kenobi?"
"Don't know," Five said, as he opened the journal to examine the writing. "Black Leader is the one obsessed with Skywalker. Maybe it'll mean something to him."
TBC