Chapter 4
Luke stared for a moment at the retreating form of his uncle before turning toward the long corridor where he was meant to go. He followed the hall to a circular area where the elevators were located and pressed the button to summon one of them.
Then he started thinking...
An hour was a long time, and as eager as he was to play with his new GameScreen, which was bright red by the way, he just couldn't ignore the fact that he was in the building where they actually made starfighters. He could find his way back up to Uncle Owen's office before an hour had gone by.
And Uncle Owen would never have to know about his little adventure.
There was a large window across from the bay of elevators and Luke wandered over to it. He saw that he was in the front tower of a large complex and all he could see were rows and rows of warehouses. That's where he'd find the TIE fighters, he knew, and if he wanted to see them, he had to get down onto the factory level.
The elevator sat waiting for him now. Luke stepped inside and ordered it to descend.
The lower levels were full of people and activity, Luke soon came to realize, and he could only guess that maybe the office workers on the floors above didn't start work as early. Luckily everyone seemed too busy to stop and ask why a strange kid was walking around, but that was just as well. Luke was on a mission to see some ships and he was not to be deterred.
He caught sight of a burly man in a set of coveralls stained with grease and resolved to follow him, knowing from experience that anyone in such a uniform could only lead him somewhere good. He'd gotten through a few doors before he felt a soft hand on his shoulder. Luke turned to see an Aqualish female standing over him.
"Stay with the others, child," she told him in a mildly frustrated tone, and herded him toward a crowd of other boys and girls standing before a viewpane overlooking a hanger. The words of protest died on Luke's lips then, for it had been a long time since he'd seen another kid his own age. These kids looked like they were from some sort of school group. They were wearing uniforms that looked very similar to the dark trousers and white undertunic that Luke was currently wearing, and he supposed it would be easy enough for someone to assume he was part of the group.
He happily assimilated himself, pretending for a moment that he was just another normal schoolboy here on Coruscant. At the front of the queue, a woman in a Sienar Fleet Systems uniform was giving a speech.
"...here to show your class what it is we do here at Sienar. Hopefully by the end of this tour you will all have a better understanding of our company and how it impacts space travel and the defense of our glorious Empire."
Luke was forced to shuffle along with the group when they all started to walk down the narrow corridor. The boy standing next to him was eyeing him skeptically.
"You're not in our class," he said after a long while of studying.
"Um... no," Luke replied. A girl had come up on his other side. Her skin was mildly blue, which meant that she was probably part Pantoran.
"Hi!" she said brightly, "I'm Deme! Are you a new student?" Luke looked from one to the other, realizing there was no escape.
"No, I just came to work with my uncle," he replied, and he felt his cheeks going red. He'd only come down here to see some ships, not talk to anyone. And it felt weird to talk to a girl.
"Wow, that's pretty cool. What school do you go to?" the girl continued, oblivious.
"I don't go to school. I have tutors," Luke mumbled.
"Only rich kids have tutors," the boy on his left sniffed with disdain, "Are you rich?"
"I guess so," Luke answered. His father was most certainly rich, wasn't he? But when Luke thought of rich people, he thought of the Hutts. The Imperial palace wasn't like a Hutt's palace. And he didn't get to do any fun things that rich people were supposed to do.
"Do you have a pool?"
"...yes," said Luke after having to think about it for a while. There were some at the palace, he knew but he wasn't sure if anyone ever used them. A teacher toward the front shushed them and they all fell silent while the Sienar lady continued her speech about TIEs.
"My name is Rory," the boy said after several minutes had gone by. Luke had been certain the other kid was finished talking with him. "What's yours?"
"Luke."
"I guess you can be my friend," Rory replied, and Luke felt a warm and happy feeling begin to bubble up from deep inside, "And Deme's too, if you be nice to her."
"Ok," Luke breathed, daring to believe it could be so simple. He had grown up with all of his friends on Tatooine, and there wasn't anyone else for miles around so there hadn't been much choice.
The class continued down through the warehouses, observing all of the assembly process. Luke lingered at each viewpane, gazing longingly down upon the racks of ships the likes of which he would not be able to pilot for several years. He raised his hand to answer many of the questions being put forward by the woman in the uniform, and he found it strange that none of the other kids seemed to know anything about starfighters.
"Can you show us a TIE Advanced?" Luke asked when he was feeling fairly comfortable about speaking in front of so many people, "I know my father flies a TIE Advanced." The Sienar worker smiled like she didn't believe him.
"The TIE Advanced is still in the prototype phase. Your father must fly a TIE/In. They are very similar."
Luke opened his mouth to argue, but then he realized that he'd never told anyone here his real name, and so no one knew about who his father really was. Over the last few years, Luke had come to see that not everyone on Coruscant had a high opinion of Lord Vader. Luke looked over to Rory and Deme, thinking that they might not want to be friends anymore if they knew. He shut his mouth again and let the tour continue. The woman finished speaking not long after and Luke realized that the group he was walking with would soon be traveling back to wherever their school was. The thought filled him with some dismay and he ended up following them all the way down to the Hyper Rail station.
"Are you coming with us?" Deme asked Luke excitedly.
"I can't," Luke answered, looking down and scuffing his nice boots on the dirty duracrete floor, "I don't have a ticket. And my uncle wouldn't like it."
"Well if your not too busy living your rich boy life you can come to my birthday party next week," Rory offered, puffing out his chest as if pleased with his charity. "It's at the arcade by my apartment building." He pulled a sheet of folded flimsi out of his jacket and handed it to Luke. "Here's the invitation."
Luke accepted the flimsi, thinking about how he hadn't held any sort of printed media in a long time. Ever since coming to Coruscant, most everything was done on a screen of some sort. The Aqualish teacher was making her way through the students, counting heads and Luke knew he needed to make himself scarce. He escaped down to the other end of the platform, so that he was away from the group but still close enough to see his new friends boarding the train after it had pulled up.
Deme appeared in the rear window and waved enthusiastically. Luke found himself lifting his hand in return, a smile appearing on his face. Once the railcar was out of sight, Luke was overcome with a sudden loneliness. His father would never let him see those other kids again, no matter how much he begged. His father had probably never had a friend in his life. There was no way he'd understand. Luke looked down at the flimsi invitation, wondering if he should just rip it up and forget that this whole day had ever happened.
Another train shot by, on express to a more distant station. The force of the wind ripped the flimsi right out of Luke's hand and it fluttered over to the other side of the tracks before becoming lodged in a vent.
Even though Luke had been contemplating destroying it only a moment ago, he suddenly panicked. There was still a chance... a tiny, tiny chance he might be able to go to that party, and he didn't know the address, or the date, or even Rory's full name.
He had to get it back.
.o.o.o.o.o.
"Luke?" Owen said as he entered his office, violently discarding his datapad so that it clattered onto a nearby surface. He spun around to view the room in its entirety, noting that it appeared untouched. "Luke?!" he tried again, this time louder and gruffer. He was met with silence.
"I never learn, I guess," he told his desk chair. Next, he picked up the office com. "Get me security," he barked into it.
Only once Owen had initiated a factory-wide manhunt did he join the search himself with two security personnel in his wake. He went to the showroom first, thinking that to be Luke's most likely endgame. When he turned up with nothing, he visited the two nearest hangers which both revealed themselves to be devoid of mischievous brats. Owen was beginning to sweat now, mind jumping to the worst conclusions. If anything were to happen to that boy, this entire place might end up leveled... with all of them in it. Owen, of course, would die first. Did these innocent people deserve to know how close their own demises were looming should they fail in this search? Some of them might have guessed the boy's identity, even with Luke's minimal media exposure. After all, what other kid might Director Lars care so much about?
Owen's feet eventually took him back to the Hyper Rail station, where he discovered a crowd of people congregating on the platform. A numbness began to spread from the pit of his stomach as he approached. No... It couldn't be...
"Out of the way, godsdamnit!" Owen shouted as he attempted to push through the people. Fortunately the Sienar security officers that had accompanied him took up the job. He followed to where the bystanders were pointing, bringing himself to the edge of the platform. There, about twenty feet below, a boy clung to one of the rails, his feet dangling above open sky and the shifting traffic lanes down further toward the planet's core.
"LUKE!" Owen hollered, but he couldn't bring himself to anger, not when he could see no easy way to get to the boy. The child looked up at the sound of his uncle's voice.
"Uncle Owen!" the boy cried weakly, "Help. I can't hold on anymore!"
"Yes you can!" Owen shouted, because there was no considering the alternative. The blare of an inbound railcar roused him from his momentary shock. He turned to his security officers.
"Force hell! Don't just stand there, shut down the train! Do something!" Stars, what Owen wouldn't give for a bit of Jedi magic in this moment.
He became aware of a bearded, old man standing nearby and recognized him as the homeless fellow that had been holding the 'Order 66 was slaughter' sign. Even in all of the chaos of a young boy's impending death the man was calm and focused. He pulled a blaster from somewhere beneath his tattered clothing.
No. Not a blaster. A grappling gun.
The next parts happened so fast that Owen barely had a chance to process them. The man fired the gun, the hook latching onto something on the opposite wall. He then jumped down and through the rails suspended over open air, but no one saw what came after that because the incoming train thundered by.
Those seconds waiting for the train to pass were some of the longest of Owen's life, but when the view was finally clear, the first thing his eyes saw was Luke tucked under the arm of his mysterious savior while they hung below the rail from the grappling cord.
People cheered and Owen was flooded with relief. When the security officers had managed to pull the two of them back onto the platform Owen saw that Luke was unconscious, but breathing. He ordered for the paramedics to be called. Hell if he was taking any chances.
"He'll be fine, I think," the old man said. Owen studied him up close, realizing that he'd seen that same face before.
"You're a clone," Owen breathed, feeling a strange sense of dejavu, as if this day had come full circle.
"That I am, sir." the man responded with a small smile, "Probably one of the oldest still alive."
"Got a name?" Owen asked. He wasn't sure what he would do with it yet, but he ought to learn it.
"They used to call me..." the man paused, as if it had been so long that he'd forgotten, "Cody."
.o.o.o.o.o.
