PART 4: PILOT
CHAPTER 14: Preparation
"Not to worry—we're still flying half a ship." —Obi-Wan Kenobi, Revenge of the Sith
****
After having been given the proper clearance codes and the coordinates to the Rebel base on Yavin IV, Obi-Wan, Luke, and Opakwa entered the ship Bail Organa had given them. To their surprise, a pair of droids awaited them.
"Greetings," one of the machines—a golden protocol droid—said. "It seems we have both been reassigned to you."
The Jedi's brow furrowed. "See-Threepio and Artoo-Detoo?"
The other droid—an R2 unit—whistled happily in response, but the protocol droid looked puzzled. "Pardon me, sir, but do I know you?"
With a smile, Obi-Wan looked at Luke. "These were your father's droids. He actually built the protocol droid."
"You know who the Maker was?" Threepio asked, sounding surprised.
The older man smiled. "You were built by a very talented nine-year old Anakin Skywalker, Threepio."
Artoo whistled confirmation, swaying from side to side.
Threepio looked down at his astromech companion skeptically. "You already knew that, Artoo?" He kicked the astrodroid. "Well, why didn't you tell me before? Really, Artoo!"
Luke chuckled. "I wasn't aware that my father used to own droids, but it's a pleasure to meet you both." He gestured toward the Jedi. "This is Obi-Wan Kenobi, the protocol droid is called Opakwa, and I'm Luke Skywalker."
The smallest droid beeped something about it being his pleasure as well, rolling forward a little. Luke smiled and placed a hand on Artoo's dome. He liked the little guy already.
Obi-Wan couldn't help but stare at the droids as images from the past—most of them surprisingly pleasant—came back to him. Bail's gesture had truly been a kind one—the droids had meant a lot to Anakin, and it was only fitting that Anakin's son should have them.
Still, they were low on time. The occasion for reminiscing was not now.
"Come on, Luke," Obi-Wan said, gesturing for the boy to sit in the pilot's seat.
Luke complied. His hands were soon flying over the controls and lifting their new transport into the air. The droids went to the cargo section of the ship, leaving the two humans alone in the cockpit.
Soon, they were exiting Alderaan's atmosphere with Traffic Control's permission, programming the coordinates into the navicomputer, and making the jump to lightspeed. Obi-Wan, though certainly knowledgeable of the workings of space vessels, let Luke handle everything. He watched the boy's movements, noting his enjoyment of all the intricate details involved in piloting a ship. He reminded Obi-Wan of Anakin, a thought that somehow made him both sad and proud.
They both sat in silence for a few minutes, Obi-Wan waiting for Luke to speak.
Finally, the Jedi's patience was rewarded. "I guess this is it, then," Luke said with a small sigh. "How do I access the Force?"
Obi-Wan smiled. The young man spoke of it as such an arduous task. "You must learn to let go of your conscious self and act on instinct. The Force both controls your actions and obeys your command. Stretch out with your feelings, and let it fill you, Luke." His hand disappeared beneath his robes and brought out the handle of a lightsaber. "If you do, then you will be able to raise this lightsaber from my hand and bring it to you."
Luke nodded in understanding and thought about the weapon for a few seconds. Then he frowned. Nothing was happening.
"Try lifting your hand. You want to call the lightsaber to yourself. Think about its movement."
The boy closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Then he opened them and stared at the saber in the Jedi's palm with a strange intensity. And suddenly, he could feel the lightsaber handle, and he willed it to come to his hand. And then it was there.
Luke looked up at the Jedi with a triumphant grin.
"Very good," Obi-Wan complimented him with a smile. "That saber belongs to you now."
The young man's brow furrowed as he stared at the weapon. He almost felt like he'd been tricked into taking it—but that was ridiculous, of course. If he really didn't want it, he was sure Obi-Wan would take it back.
"It belonged to your father," the Jedi said quietly.
The young man's head shot up. "What?"
Obi-Wan gave Luke a hard look. "Did Vader tell you who your father really was?"
The boy hesitated, trying to determine whether Obi-Wan knew. But then, his father had said that he had once been a Jedi, so it made sense that Obi-Wan would know. "Yes. He told me he was once the Jedi Anakin Skywalker before he became Darth Vader."
As Obi-Wan didn't look surprised, Luke knew he had guessed right. Quietly, the Jedi asked, "Did he tell you what exactly happened?"
Luke shook his head.
Obi-Wan took in a deep breath as he was bombarded by a sudden rush of painful memories. Though the memories hurt, he felt it was important for Anakin's son to know about Anakin's life. "Anakin was a pupil of mine before he turned to evil. We thought he was the Chosen One, the one who would bring balance to the Force and destroy the Sith. But instead he joined the Sith and left the Force in darkness—all so that he would be able to save his wife Padmé from death..."
The Jedi looked down at the floor, his face tight. "After he turned on the Jedi, killing younglings and people that would have called him 'friend,' he went to the volcanic planet Mustafar. I dueled with him and pleaded with him, but he was convinced everyone had turned against him. I took the high ground and told him it was over, but his pride caused him to jump up to where I was...I—I cut off three of his limbs, leaving only his mechanical one. His clothing...caught on fire, and he was horribly burned." Obi-Wan sighed, the breath leaving his chest with a heavy sadness. "I hated myself for what happened to him, Luke, but he'd left me no choice. I was in danger of turning to the Dark Side if I killed him, so I left his fate to the Force." As the Jedi squeezed his eyes shut, he whispered, "I loved him like a brother. Perhaps for the galaxy's sake, I should have killed him. But for my sake, I did not."
"There may still be good in him," the young man said softly.
The Jedi opened his eyes and shook his head with resolute firmness. "When he became Darth Vader, the good man who was your father was destroyed. He cannot be redeemed."
Luke looked down at his hands, considering the Jedi's words but not commenting on them.
"Afterward, his wife—your mother—died of a broken heart."
The boy exhaled. So that was it. In trying to save someone's life, Anakin Skywalker had brought about the loss of it. Such was the tragedy of Darth Vader.
The two were quiet in thought for a few minutes before Obi-Wan finally spoke again. The subject of Anakin Skywalker was closed, at least temporarily; they had to get back to business. "Since you are to be piloting a ship under very dangerous circumstances, perhaps I should teach you more about concentration. Our space in here is a bit limited, but we can make do." Obi-Wan stood up, reaching into his satchel to pull out a round machine. "Ignite your lightsaber. This training remote will send low-powered blasts at you that you will reflect. The bolts may sting a little, but they will do no lasting damage." He let the training remote fly up into the air. "As you reach out to the Force, make sure you are calm, at peace."
The young man nodded and brought up his lightsaber, carefully watching the remote.
****
Luke's training exercises went well. He learned more about responding to the Force's warnings and using the Force to increase his concentration skills. But before long, however, they had to exit hyperspace. The young man only hoped that the lessons he'd been given would be enough to provide him an edge in the Death Star run.
When they reached Yavin IV, Luke transmitted the proper clearance codes and was directed to a docking bay inside one of the planet's big temples. As Luke ensured their safe landing, Obi-Wan told the droids it would be best if they waited aboard the ship. The protocol droids assented, but when Luke and Obi-Wan moved to exit the vessel, Artoo-Detoo trailed behind them as if the orders hadn't been intended to apply to him.
After the trio exited the ship, they found a welcoming committee awaiting them. It consisted of several Rebels...with weapons trained on them.
The astromech droid made a noise that sounded like 'uh oh.'
One of the Rebels—the leader, it seemed—saw Obi-Wan's garb and frowned. "Are you a Jedi?" he called out cautiously.
"Yes," Obi-Wan confirmed. Both he and Luke were holding their hands up in the air next to their faces. "We were sent here by Bail Organa."
The man who had spoken took a few steps forward. "How do we know you're telling the truth?"
"I have clearance codes from Bail Organa," Obi-Wan noted. After being given a nod that clearly meant 'go ahead,' the Jedi told the Rebels the codes.
After hearing the codes, the gray-haired Rebel leader gestured for his companions to lower their weapons. "Sorry about this poor welcome, but we're working on an important operation, and we've not seen or heard of your vessel before, so we had to take precautions." He gave them a reassuring smile. "I'm Commander Willard."
Obi-Wan gave a slight nod in greeting. "I'm Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. My companion is..." He paused, anticipating something.
Luke frowned, unsure of the reason for such a pause. Suddenly, he stiffened. Obi-Wan, it seemed, was allowing him to choose what last name he would like to take upon himself—Skywalker or Antilles: the name of the mother who had loved him and died for him...or the name of the father who had been consumed by darkness. The choice should have been simple; the answer he should choose was obvious. But that wasn't the choice he made.
"Luke Skywalker," he supplied.
Both he and Obi-Wan felt as if some sort of tension had been released, as if an important choice had been made and there was no going back.
Unaware that anything of import had happened, Willard grinned. "It feels good to have a Jedi among us; I had thought your kind almost extinct."
"Not yet," Obi-Wan smiled.
"What brings you here?"
"We know of the monstrosity that you're up against," the Jedi told him. "Luke here is a skilled pilot, and he wanted to help."
Willard surveyed the boy with a critical eye. "Have you ever flown an X-wing, Luke?"
"No, sir," Luke answered. He hesitated briefly and then told the older man: "But I can learn to fly anything if given the chance, sir."
The Rebel commander chuckled. "Well, you certainly have confidence—in that respect alone, you'd fit in well with Red Squadron. We can get one of the boys to run a quick flight simulator test. We'll all be leaving in a matter of hours to meet at the rendezvous point, so there's not much time, but we could always use another pilot." He motioned over one of the other Rebels. "Take these two to Red Leader. Have him run an X-wing flight sim. I'll leave the judgment on whether Luke here can fly or not to him."
The Rebel nodded. "Yes, sir."
****
While it took Luke a few minutes to completely familiarize himself with the controls in the X-wing combat sim, he soon found himself skillfully maneuvering and destroying simulated fighters. The thrill of flying in combat—even if it was fake—was like nothing he'd ever felt before. All too soon, it was over.
Obi-Wan, Artoo, and Garven Dreis, the commander of Red Squadron, were all waiting for him to exit from the simulator. After he did so, Red Leader moved forward and patted him on the shoulder in a congratulatory fashion. "If you can fly that well in real combat, Luke, I think you just might turn out to be the best pilot in our squadron. One of our regulars has the measles, so it seems that now you've got an X-wing. You already have the astromech, so it's only fitting."
Luke flushed. "Th-thank you sir."
Obi-Wan smiled at the boy. Luke had seemed rather flustered upon receiving the older man's praise. His scores had been impressive—even Obi-Wan had known that. Luke truly was Anakin Skywalker's son.
"Now, I have a little preparation to do," Garven Dreis noted, "but I'm going to take you to the caf to meet your fellow Red Squadron members. We've already had our briefing about the Death Star run, but I'm sure they can catch you up on the details."
Luke nodded. He already knew the basic plan—shoot some torps into the thermal exhaust port—but there were probably several important details he'd missed.
They walked down a few of the Massassi Temple's corridors before arriving at the big room which served as a cafeteria. Red Leader brought him over to a table where a bunch of men sat laughing and talking. Luke found the image somewhat startling, as some of these men would soon be going to their deaths.
"Hey, Boss!" one of the pilots greeted cheerfully. He was swirling an eating utensil around on his plate, mixing food together in a manner which made his meal look altogether unattractive.
"Red Boys, this is Luke Skywalker. He'll be flying with us on the Death Star run. He's a great pilot, so treat him well and catch him up on the mission." The pilots grinned and whooped, and Red Leader began calling off individual names and pointing to pilots: "Luke, meet Elyhek, John, Wedge, Biggs, Porkins, Weltev, Theron, Naytaan, Bren, and Wenton. I don't expect you to remember their names, but I suspect you'll never forget their faces." The statement was made soberly. "Your wingman will be Biggs Darklighter—he's a hotshot pilot from Tatooine."
Luke surveyed the friendly faces looking at him, trying with great effort to remember who was who. As one who had aspired to be a politician, he was generally rather good at it, but even he found the onslaught of names daunting.
Obi-Wan, who was standing next to Dreis, spoke quietly. "I wonder if I might be given some quarters. I'd like to do a little meditation."
"Sure," Red Leader agreed amiably. "I'll show you to some." He turned off and moved to walk away.
The Jedi gently touched Luke's shoulder before following Dreis. "I will find you before you leave," he noted.
Luke nodded and watched as the older man left. Artoo whistled something, his dome swerving so that he could also take in Obi-Wan's departure.
"Have a seat," a pilot said congenially.
"Yeah, we're eating our last meal!" another one added mirthfully.
Biggs Darklighter rolled his eyes. "If there's one thing you'll learn about Red Squadron, it's to never take anyone seriously. Go ahead and sit down; we won't bite. Most of us, anyway."
Luke tentatively took a seat at the table, noting with amusement that more food seemed to be going onto the table and the pilots than into the pilots' mouths. They appeared to be enjoying flicking it at each other.
He was reminded suddenly of his juggling misadventure and felt a pang of—sorrow? Regret?
He had let himself relax then, and it had felt good. He had simply let himself enjoy Mara's presence (what was she up to now? he couldn't help but wonder) and 'have fun,' as it were. He surveyed the heads of the pilots around him and noted the gooey messes which were to be found on the men's (men's? perhaps 'boys' was more apt) faces and in their hair—not even their clothes were spared the indignity of being covered in slop. The people he'd often been around on Alderaan—nobles and politicians—would never have been caught dead participating in such sticky revelries. Even his mother, though she liked to have her fun and was not as uptight as many members of Alderaan's elite, would have frowned on such undignified behavior. But was it really so bad to be messy if one got enjoyment out of it?
"Wedge Antilles," a pilot with dark hair introduced himself. "So, Skywalker, where are you from?"
The new pilot inhaled a little. Yes, it had been a while since he'd really just sat down and talked with other males his age, but he was going to force himself to relax. Still, his voice broke just a little when he first started speaking. "I—I lived on Tatooine when younger, and then I moved to Alderaan."
"That hot Princess Leia is from Alderaan," someone noted with a grin, only to yell "Ow!" when another pilot thumped him. "Well, she is!" he said defensively.
"How long did you live on Tatooine?" Biggs queried.
"Not even ten years," Luke said vaguely. He didn't really want to talk about it.
His discomfort must have showed, for Wedge said, "Well, you're here with us now. Here in the Rebel Alliance, home is where your ship is."
"Aww, but I thought it was where the food was," a rather rotund pilot pouted.
"Piggy, with you, it is where the food is," another pilot said with a smirk.
"I'll remember that comment when you ask me to save your butt from a TIE fighter," Piggy muttered. But despite the wounded look on his face, he was obviously not upset.
Luke smiled. These were good men. He would be proud to go into battle with them.
A few minutes later, he almost rethought that sentiment when Weltev—the pilot with the well-mixed food—dumped his plate onto Wedge's head.
****
Mara Jade sat in her quarters staring down at her hands.
They seemed innocuous enough—small and white, bearing a few barely visible scars.
But they had done much which she was not proud of. She had rid the galaxy of scum, to be sure, and she had relished in doing so, but some of the targets Palpatine had given her...
She shivered. She was almost certain some of those she had killed were good men—she had harbored doubts concerning whether what she was doing was right, but she had chosen to trust in her master. Surely, if Palpatine had wanted them dead, it must have been for the best. At least, that's what she had told herself.
Now, however, she wasn't so sure. She was beginning to doubt the government she had so ardently served. Considerations of the Death Star were near-constantly filling her head. Should anyone have that kind of power?
She couldn't help but concede to herself that the space station was an abomination. Such a thought bordered on sedition, but it clung to her nevertheless.
Would Darth Vader really destroy a planet just out of anger regarding the escape of his son?
His son.
What a revelation that had been. Mara still found it hard to wrap her mind around the notion. How could the sable behemoth that was Darth Vader have ever descended into the world of mortals long enough to beget a child? There was a bit of a mystery surrounding Vader that she wasn't sure she ever wanted dispersed.
No. She should stop thinking negatively of the Empire and its members. She would do her duties. She would remain loyal.
What else was there for her?
****
The X-wing pilots caught Luke up on the little details of the battle, just as Red Leader had said they would. But all too soon (after a few quick showers), they were all suiting up into their orange flight suits (Orange? Luke thought in shock when he first saw them) and rushing to their fighters.
Biggs pointed to an X-wing halfway down the line of ships. "That's Jal's fighter. It's the one you'll be flying."
Luke nodded, shifting his helmet from his left hand to his right. He felt bad that he was using someone else's ship—but it wasn't his fault that Jal was sick. And this battle was very important.
"Meet you at Despayre," the black-haired pilot told his new friend with a smile. He gave a brief wave and then went jogging toward his X-wing.
Luke frowned as the name of the planet echoed in his mind ominously, but then Artoo whistled something, and Luke smiled down at him. "You excited, little buddy?"
The droid whistled an affirmative.
The young man swallowed. He was a little nervous, though he was trying to hide it. The fleet was supposed to rendezvous at a point close to the penal world Despayre and then make a micro-jump into hyperspace so as to end up right in front of the planet. That was where the Death Star was being constructed, and it was likely to be well-protected. The fact that the planet's name sounded like "despair" was something that Luke couldn't manage to get over.
"Luke," a voice said. He turned and saw Obi-Wan moving toward him. "Do you feel prepared?"
"As prepared as I'll ever be," Luke replied with a smile. "But don't worry—I have Artoo to protect me."
The droid whistled in agreement, and the Jedi chuckled. "Indeed." He then gave the young pilot a serious look. "Remember to use the Force, Luke. Don't rely on your targeting computer—use your instincts instead."
"I will," the young man promised.
"After the battle, return here. I will be waiting for you with Opakwa and Threepio."
Luke Skywalker looked sober. "And if I don't survive?"
"I will know," the Jedi said softly. "If I must return to Dagobah alone, I will." But he gave the younger man a smile. "You are a skilled pilot, Luke. I have faith that you will return."
"That makes one of us," Luke said, only half in jest. He turned his head to look at his ship. Most of the other pilots were already in their fighters.
"Be careful, Luke," the Jedi said, knowing Luke needed to get into his own X-wing fighter. "And may the Force be with you."
****
Author's Note: Wookieepedia says the pilot bearing the name "Red Twelve" in ANH is unknown. So, in a nod to this unnamed pilot, I've named him Weltev (which is "twelve" rearranged).