Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to George Lucas/Disney. Anything you don't recognize probably also belongs to them.
Quiescent
In a quiet intersection of hallways where one hall terminated perpendicularly against another, a small viewport that glowed with the light of hyperspace illuminated the furred face and petite figure of the only Bothan aboard the ship. Irys stood, contributing little sound to the empty passages, and watched the nebulous swirls of hyperspace as the ship rushed towards their destination. She reached up and brushed a strand of her shoulder-length brunette hair out of her eyes before shoving her hand back into the pocket of her dull brown duster jacket, the bottom of it brushing against her thighs as she shivered. Her slightly slouched shoulders and rumpled bedclothes made her appear more approachable than she usually did, but she didn't mind.
She sighed lightly, her breath ghosting in the air in front of her, and she wrapped the jacket around herself more tightly. The ship was running its heating system, but this close to the edge of the vessel it was rarely much above freezing in the halls. They were getting close, she had realized as the temperature had begun to plummet hours before. It was creeping toward the middle of the night-cycle, she knew, and most of the other sentients on the ship were sleeping aside from those required to man the ship during the graveyard shift. Even so, she knew she had very little chance of going back to sleep now, not after that dream, so instead she focused on centering her thoughts in her own form of meditation. She needed to be calm and collected for the mission in the morning - anything else was a liability.
After several minutes of quietly ordering her thoughts she glanced at her chrono and noticed a small green light subtly winking at her. She smiled, Skywalker's cabin lights were on. Perhaps her night wouldn't be a total waste. Irys reached into another pocket and pulled out her com-link. With a quick tap she turned on the record function and spoke, her usual clipped tone somewhat softened with her lack of sleep, and her accent slightly stronger for it, "Commander Skywalker, given the quickly approaching mission, I would like to meet with Rogue Squadron to acquaint myself with them at your earliest convenience, especially Antilles as the three of us will be flying in a group." She paused for a short moment in thought then smiled, "Also, don't forget the story you owe me."
With an abrupt click she cut off the recording before she keyed in his com-channel and sent it. Since she knew he was already awake - barring the possibility that he fell asleep with his lights on - the sudden chime of her com-link receiving a message didn't surprise her.
She clicked the playback button allowing his soft drawl to fill the air around her, "I'd ask how you got my com-channel, but I think I can figure that out on my own. I guess you're having trouble sleeping too huh? Wedge and I are in my quarters if you wanna drop by." Irys smiled; that had worked out perfectly.
She looked down at her clothes and contemplated changing for a moment before she shook her head, her hair brushing against her shoulders. She would get more information as she was. The more imperfect she appeared, the more 'human' she would seem to Skywalker, and the more he would ignore her purpose of information gathering. It had nothing to do with the comfort of these clothes, her curiosity about the story, or her lingering uneasiness from her nightmare.
More memory than dream.
She turned from the viewport determinedly and padded silently through the halls following paths she had memorized until she reached Skywalker's quarters and reached toward the button for the door-chime only to have the door hiss open before she had the chance to touch it. She twitched slightly, startled, and then smirked. Apparently the Jedi in training felt he had something to prove after not sensing her presence the other day. She stepped across the threshold into the warmth of the room and reassessed her assumption upon seeing his smug features.
Or he's just messing with me.
Irys grinned, already feeling like she was back in her element, her dream fading. Two could play at that game.
"I see the baby Jedi knows some tricks," she teased causing the blonde to scowl at her from his position on the bed, and the older black haired man sitting on the desk chair to roar in laughter. She leaned against the wall and quirked her eyebrows. That was probably the best first impression she could have hoped for.
Luke glowered at his friend and heaved a sigh. He shouldn't be this annoyed, but he was going stir crazy and it didn't help that Wedge had held to his promise and hadn't left him alone or let him move an inch from his bed aside from using the restroom and the sonic shower. The com-message from Arr'ojia had been a welcome change of pace despite the fact that he didn't trust her further than he could throw her without the Force.
Wedge gave his friend a light nudge with his elbow, "Where'd you find this chick? I like her, she's got spunk."
Luke rolled his eyes. Spunk? The man had to be joking. Before he could decide how to explain the Bothan Agent, she spoke up.
"Most people call me Iris," she inclined her head slightly in greeting. "I've been assigned by the Bothan Council to help out the Alliance. I ended up being assigned to the Rogues as a supplemental mission so that I can attain more information. As to how Skywalker here found me?" She grinned mischievously, "Well he did try to slam a refrigeration unit door into me."
Luke's eyes narrowed as his Wedge jokingly berated him about the proper way to greet a woman. She had managed to mislead his friend completely without telling a single lie; she was good. He momentarily thought about telling Wedge the truth, but realized that unspoken though the term to their deal had been, breaking her cover would put an end to it.
Instead he just huffed and grumbled playing along, "Come off it Wedge, it's not that funny."
Wedge snorted, "Maybe not to you."
Luke looked at Irys and adopted a put-upon look, "Look at what you've done now." He released an exaggerated sigh and gestured towards the other male, "As you can probably guess, this son-of-a-bantha is my wingman Wedge Antilles."
"Hey!" Wedge cut in trying to appear offended, but Luke could sense the man's humour vaguely, only the minor stinging sensation that accompanied it reminded him of the pain that using the Force had caused him the previous day while he was recovering. Fortunately as his body healed so had his connection with the energy field.
Luke ploughed on as if Wedge hadn't even spoken, "He's not usually this annoying, but he's insisted on being here to 'nurse me back to health.' Between you and me I'm pretty sure he's got cabin fever and just won't admit it."
"Hey!" Wedge interjected again, this time a touch of irritation tinging his amusement.
Luke saw Irys cover her mouth to stifle a chuckle and he snorted; whether she was putting on an act or not she was certainly endearing herself quite well and would probably get along with the other members of the Rogues with very little effort. In fact, he looked at her more closely, if he hadn't seen her in a perfectly pressed intel uniform with her hair pulled into a tightly controlled ponytail, and a militant stance to match, he probably wouldn't have seen past her current (shockingly normal) appearance. When he really thought about it, he was lucky he saw her in the meeting, and perhaps even more fortunate that she had confronted him in the way that she had in the kitchen; if she hadn't he would have been completely blindsided by her. He grimaced inwardly as he realized that this was especially true because of how easily she could mask the reasons behind her emotions. She could have integrated her way into the Rogues easily without him knowing the danger.
So then why did she give herself away? She wouldn't have done it without reason.
He tucked the thought away for later consideration as he realized Wedge was talking to him.
"Oi, Luke! Landing Control to Luke!" The man waved his arm in front of Luke and Luke shook his head lightly to bring himself back to the moment.
"Sorry, I was just thinking, what'd I miss?"
Wedge grinned, "I'll say. Iris over here was telling me you owed her a story and I want in. I was getting sick and tired of watching you reading that holo-book about binary anyway."
Luke looked down at the datapad lying discarded across his lap then looked back at Wedge, "It's not like I'm making you stay here. That's all on you."
The Corellian grumbled and kicked his feet up on the desk and rocked the chair back on its rear legs. It distinctly reminded Luke of the Captain of the Millennium Falcon and sent a pained twinge through him. A story would definitely be good right about now he decided, even if it had its own pain associated with it.
He flicked the datapad off before he gestured toward Irys, "Come on you can sit on the foot of the bed, standing can't be that comfortable." Luke shifted his feet over as Irys joined him and curled up her legs beside herself at the base of the bed.
"Thank you," she commented as she got settled.
He nodded, "I'm not sure if this will be all that interesting, but you wanted to know so, here goes nothing." He shrugged and settled back against his pillows, "As she already knows I had just turned sixteen a few months before it happened." He gestured toward Irys and she nodded, "Uncle Owen had let me start driving on my sixteenth birthday," he spoke, the memory of his excitement from the time helping to off-set the rising pain that came with the mention of his Uncle. "I used to want to fly the landspeeder whenever the opportunity came up, and even when we didn't need to. I'm pretty sure I was driving Uncle Owen spare because of it," Luke smiled and chuckled lightly recalling his Uncle's dishevelled look whenever Luke has asked him if he could take the speeder in to town. "He used to get on to me all the time about fuel not coming out of the air. I was impossible to reason with of course. Even being a couple feet off the ground was exhilarating for me. Controlling the speeder, dodging obstacles, the dry wind blowing through my hair, I lived for it. I drove too fast, even in something as simple as a landspeeder, and if I could avoid going on the flattened areas I did. Uncle Owen hated it, he was always a very safe and practical driver, and he told me more than once that riding with me nearly gave him a heart attack," Luke grinned.
Wedge snorted, "No surprise there."
Luke shrugged, "True enough." He sank back further into the pillows and drifted off into memory as he spoke.
"I used to visit Biggs all the time at the Darklighter homestead," he smiled briefly, the memories sweetly bitter. "We were best friends and surprisingly similar despite our different circumstances. His family was rich you see - business in a land of farmers - and my family was never more than barely getting by. The few other kids around our age always seemed to resent him for it, but I never did." He paused and tilted his head, "Or maybe I did, but I didn't let it control me." He looked at the other two, his gaze intense, "The Darklighters you know? In the end I couldn't ever really hold anything against them, not when they were the most honest business people in that part of the planet." Luke smirked, "Not saying they weren't shrewd about what they did, it was Tatooine after all."
Irys chuckled, "I imagine the completely honest are used like doormats."
Luke nodded, "Unfortunately." He smiled grimly, "Kids have to grow up fast on Tatooine, though Aunt Beru and Biggs' mother did a good job of protecting us from the worst of it for years. We were about as innocent as Tatooine children come. In fact I think the first time we really began to experience Tatooine was on the racing circuit. Not that my Aunt or Uncle and Biggs' parents knew what we were up to obviously," Luke shook his head with a grin. "Gambling, drugs, prostitution, slavery, everything was there, and like with anything new we were completely fascinated," he grimaced. "Disturbed by some of it obviously, but still entranced despite it all. I remember watching my first race. I had a harch halfway in my lap it was so crowded, and by rights I should have been miserable, but all I could think of was how much fun the race looked." Luke smiled, a distant look in his eyes, "I remember looking at Biggs with probably the goofiest grin on my face and telling him we had to race."
Wedge rolled his eyes, "You would. I bet you were impossible after that."
"I might've had a hard time keeping my mouth shut, yeah," Luke shrugged. "Uncle Owen heard me talking about the circuits once and nearly had a bantha right then." He snorted, "Obviously I was more careful after that. Had to be if I wanted to keep going to the races."
Luke shifted slightly and continued, "It wasn't long before Biggs was able to convince his parents to get him a T-16 in exchange for the both of us helping out around his parent's property when we could. They never really asked much of me since they knew how busy I was back home even if it was the off-season." His breath hitched slightly at the mention of his Aunt and Uncle's homestead. Even after four plus years he still saw the little patch of land and buildings as home, and the reminder of everything he had lost there twisted at his gut. He dug his fingers into his thighs through the bedding, then forced himself to loosen his grip. He couldn't let the present ruin his memories.
Luke released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and continued, the other two quietly allowing his slip to pass without remark, "Whenever I visited, if I wasn't fixing something around the ranch, I was modifying the T-16 or practicing with it." He smiled wryly, "Even if it wasn't really mine I still wanted it to be the best I could make it, and Biggs let me tinker with it without hesitation." He focused on the other two for a moment, "I've always been good with machines. I can't remember a time that I wasn't messing with some project or another, especially around the farm. Uncle Owen was certainly grateful for it, and Biggs definitely didn't mind me putting my skills to use."
Luke's mind shifted forward and away from the other two again, "All that time we continued to watch races and practice, but we quickly realized it would be next to impossible to get into the official races. Every racer had a sponsor, and Jabba oversaw it all. No one was gonna pick up two young teens and bet on them. I remember I was about to give up in despair when we learned about the illegal circuits. Disorganized, outside of Hutt jurisdiction, dangerous, but most important to us: anyone could enter if they had the peggats to put toward the pot." He shook his head, his hair rustling quietly, "That it took us so long to realize there were illegal circuits just shows how ignorant we still were, but we started learning fast. If the legal races were a breeding ground for vice, these races drowned in it. It might've been hell if flying didn't feel like heaven, and we pinched every trugut and wupiupi we had until we had enough for the entry fee."
"Biggs raced the first time in a part of the Judland Wastes," he chuckled, "I screamed my voice raw that night. Aunt Beru thought I had caught something while I was in town, but it was worth it. He was a first time racer on new terrain and had to put up with some pretty nasty tricks, but he still came in second place. I was beyond proud." His eyes almost glowed with the memory, "Second place didn't win anything monetary, but it got us a discount on our next race fee. After that it wasn't long before we were back, only this time I was racing. It was," he paused and drew in a breath with his eyes closed as a smile crept across his face, "Exhilarating." Luke opened his eyes, "I don't think I ever feel more alive than when I'm flying with my life and victory on the line."
Adrenaline and yet a strange calm; heart racing, steady hands
He can feel everything, more than he could ever see. The skyhopper hums with energy that simply becomes a part of him. His life, his success, is in his own hands, and it is almost euphoric.
He could never stay a farmer after this.
"I won that race - and most others when I wasn't sabotaged - and Biggs got better all the time. Some people asked why I let him race when my chances at winning were higher, but really they just didn't get it. We weren't there for the money, though it certainly was a perk. We were doing it for fun, for the experience, and for the rush when we won."
"I would imagine not doing something for money on Tatooine was outlandish to most," Irys comment.
Luke nodded in agreement, "Pretty much. Unfortunately our abilities didn't really make us any friends, so when Jabba's men finally caught up with the circuit we got ratted out right away as a scapegoat for the entire thing. The next time we were out alone practicing in the wastes we ended up surrounded by a bunch of Jabba's goons."
"Go Biggs!" Luke bellows, his voice cracking.
"No! Not without you!" Biggs snaps back, his face red with his stubbornness.
Luke's eyes harden, "Shut up and just kriffing GO! I can handle myself!"
To this day he didn't know what his friend had seen in his expression, but whatever it was Biggs had left.
"Biggs had been the one flying at the time, so I told him to run while he could. He wasn't too happy about it, but he went, yelling about coming back to kick my ass if I wasn't home before the suns set. Then I was surrounded completely, but I could see some of them about to break off and fly after him."
He laughed shortly, his palms damp at the memory of his fear, "I had to distract them, but all I had was a hydrospanner. I felt crazy as I jumped one of the guys on a speeder, and they must have thought it too, because I managed to get a few good hits in before they reacted. After that it didn't take long before I ended up cuffed and eating sand. By then though, Biggs was gone. They weren't very happy about that."
A trandoshan drags him up painfully by his hair, "Where was he going?" The voice is gravel and Luke simply laughs and shakes his head even as some part of him wonders where he got the audacity. The male, and it has to be a male given its markings, shakes him roughly by the hair, and kark how that hurts. He rolls the sand around his mouth with what little saliva he has and spits it in the being's eyes, "You can kiss my ass."
'They must have hit my head too hard,' he thinks incredulously, 'otherwise I've got to be going insane.'
Clearly the trandoshan agrees because the next thing he knows he is facedown on the ground again being dragged by his feet as the coarse sand scrapes harshly at his skin, "Try that attitude with Jabba and see how it goes," the lizard-man growls as he slings Luke over the back of his speeder bike.
Hanging off the edges of a speeder bike at high speed is high on the list of things he never wants to do again.
"It was my bad luck that Jabba was visiting Anchorhead, and they ended up dragging me all the way to Jabba's main racing circuit in that area to see him in person. Jabba is notoriously hard to get an audience with since he usually leaves his affairs to delegates, yet there I was getting dragged into his audience chambers." Luke rolled his eyes, "Apparently illegal racing is something he takes personally." Luke drifted off into thought, "I had never been more afraid in my life, and even now it's still up there. I thought I was going to die," he paused quietly, "Or worse."
Heart beating like a womp rat's
Tugging at the shackles
Useless
Heavy haze in the air
Am I contact high?
Disoriented
Slitted pupils in eyes with no morals
Glistening rolls of mottled fat
Short arms grasping for anything they can
And a stomach bigger than life to consume it with
Consume his freedom
So this is the Skywalker trash that dares to steal from me. Jabba's voice sounds deep like the shifting of tectonic plates.
Luke shakes his head even as the trandoshan nods.
"It got a bit muddled after that with all the spice in the air. I know Jabba was talking about me and any time I tried to talk he acted like I said nothing. In hardly any time he decided I was guilty and was debating on killing me or using me as a slave. Then there were two rifle blasts and the entire room erupted into motion. The next thing I remember seeing was Uncle Owen standing in the doorway demanding I be set free, like the most insane and unassuming badass on that side of the galaxy, with our old carbine blaster pointed at Jabba and at least two dozen blasters pointed back at him."
"Damn, your Uncle had guts storming in on a hutt like that," Wes said with a whistle of appreciation.
"Perhaps," Irys laughed lightly, "Or he was just a very protective guardian. People do crazy things when their loved ones are in danger."
Luke huffed out a wry laugh, "Oh it was definitely crazy. I thought I was hallucinating until I realized that the air was clearing up through the open door. Luckily it worked well enough to hold off everyone from shooting while they waited for instructions."
As he continued to describe his memories he found himself swept up in them himself.
Surely he is seeing things
Uncle Owen is too practical for this
A gust of wind; the air is clearing
Almight Jabba, this man has killed the door guards, what do we do? An agitated rodian asks.
The hutt waves his stubby arm with a jiggle as if this entire situation is nothing, but Luke can tell he is nervous from the subtle twitching of the obese being's features. Kill him.
Luke blinks, the command taking a half moment to process before he bellows, NO! his voice harsh with the language of the hutts and panic.
The hutt holds up its arm to stop the others from firing and for the first time the hutt focuses solely on him, You know this criminal? The hutt hides it well, but it is clearly relieved that he didn't have to test Uncle Owen's speed on the trigger.
Luke, if anything, is even more relieved, but he can't let it show. He won't.
He draws in a breath clear of spice smoke, his head thankfully clearing quickly, and steels himself as much as he knows how. He has to focus. He can't afford to stumble over words now.
He nods in response to the hutt's question, and with a deliberate choice to show his status as an educated and free sentient he begins speaking in careful and concise Basic instead of Huttese, drawing on everything he remembers learning from school and from his Aunt, "Almighty Jabba, I, and my racing associate have done you great wrongs that we deserve to be punished for; however this man," he points toward his Uncle, "was only trying to pay back a debt that he owes me, and his attempt to rescue me has reminded me that I am a coward and do not want to die." He forces a grim smile, darkened further by the mood in the room, "Whether he kills you or not, he and I will both end up dead, so I have a proposition for your life, my life and freedom as well as his and the other individual that I raced with. In addition, I do not wish for their families to pay for our mistakes, so the proposal would also include the safety and freedom of their families as well."
The hutt glowers at him, yet seems dumbfounded by Luke's audacity.
So is Luke.
Now it is the hutt's turn to speak, And this… proposal?
Luke inclines his neck in the barest of bows, keeping his eyes on the situation, "In exchange for stopping him from pulling that trigger now," the next words come more easily as he returns to the more familiar territory of a formal challenge, "I would challenge your best racers to a skyhopper race. All safety restrictions lifted; the time and place would be of your choosing. Should you accept, my terms are as previously stated."
Now the hutt is leering at him as his tongue slides across his worm-like lips past the remains of his last snack caked to the corners of his mouth. Greed shines deep in his eyes, You are a fool.
Luke shrugs as nonchalantly as he is able, "Perhaps." The hutt is right. No sane sentient would willingly participate in a race style so dangerous that only slaves are forced to compete in it.
Unfortunately he isn't feeling very sane.
The hutt's laughter rumbles through the room like indigestion, Very well Skywalker. You only prolong the inevitable, and I have my own terms. I will need the name of your racing associate so that he can be considered as part of the bet. He will also need to bring your vehicle.
Luke grits his teeth; he had hoped to protect Biggs' identity until after the race, "Darklighter. Biggs Darklighter."
A Darklighter hmm? The hutt chortles, each laugh a deep resonating boom, and Luke sees the greed sharpen further in his eyes.
Not good.
He nods in agreement scrambling to do damage control while holding a straight face, "Yes Almighty Jabba, he is a son of the Darklighters who run their business here in Anchorhead. He is in no position to inherit the business and does not have any influence within his family, however he has been useful to me and it would be unfair of me to leave him and his family unprotected if it is within my ability to help them."
The hutt eyes him shrewdly, but doesn't seem to catch Luke's lie about Biggs' importance in the Darklighter family. Luke inwardly heaves a sigh of relief as the hutt speaks again appearing irritated that Biggs could not be used as some form of leverage against the influential family.
I see. The hutt appears to ponder for a moment, If you win I will allow this man to be freed, he gestures toward Uncle Owen with his short arm, In addition, he, Biggs Darklighter, and both of their families will remain untouched by myself and those in my employ barring the commitment of further crimes that infringe upon my domain. If you lose, both of the two men, as well as this man's family will become my slaves. He closes his eyes in what might be disgust, The Darklighters are far too influential, and your associate is not of enough importance to them to hold his crimes against them, so the rest of his family shall remain free upon your loss.
Luke tenses sharply. The hutt gangster had left a rather significant part out of the deal, and he knows that whatever comes next will not be good.
As for you young Skywalker, in exchange for my generosity you will remain with me as a slave to insure that should you win, none of these individuals will attempt to break with this arrangement. The hutt's lips wormed their way into a grotesque smile. Do we have an agreement?
Luke swallows dryly, his thoughts spinning away from him in horror.
His enslavement for the freedom of his Aunt, Uncle, Biggs, and the Darklighters.
He looks over at his Uncle and his resolve hardens, his thoughts swirling back into place. It would be worth it if he could save them. With an effort he calms his features and turns back to face his fate, "Yes, Almighty Jabba. We do."
Call off your man, the hutt demands with all the authority of someone that had already won.
Luke inclines his head then turns back to his Uncle and meets his conflicted gaze, "Lower your weapon Mister Lars."
His Uncle looks at him hesitantly and Luke feels something in his own gaze harden, "Lower your weapon Owen."
His Uncle's hands twitch and then slowly begin to lower the carbine blaster rifle, though Luke can see his jaw tense in frustration. Unable to watch anymore Luke abruptly turns back to the hutt and holds his breath, praying to the suns that the stories about hutts having their own brand of honour were true.
Lower your weapons, the hutt rumbles, his eyes narrowing dangerously. Arrest the man. If they attempt anything stun them.
Luke gulps dryly, holding his breath as they tear the blaster out of his Uncle's grasp, and doesn't release it until he is cuffed without incident.
Place them in separate cells, the hutt says, waving his hand as he turns to his current Major Domo, and contact the Darklighters.
The being bows and backs away reverently as Luke and his Uncle are marched away by a couple of Gamoreans that prod them occasionally with spears.
Luke drew himself from the memory of his long wait in the cell, "The wait was nerve wracking and boring at the same time. Nothing to do, but there was the persistent worry over how long it would take them to come for us. If there had been someone to talk to it would have been better, but all I had were my thoughts." He shook his head with a sigh, "It felt like forever before they came for me, and of course by the time they finally did I had fallen into a restless sleep." He laughed darkly, "They woke me up by kicking me in the side. Definitely a rude awakening."
"I've never heard of a hutt that was known for its hospitality," Wedge pointed out, his tone dryly sarcastic.
"Well they certainly would not get rich by being nice, would they?" Irys responded with an eye roll.
Luke shrugged, "When I got to the track the suns nearly blinded me after being kept in the dark for so long. The first thing I could really focus on was Biggs standing beside the T-16 in some of his best clothes trying to look dignified." Luke laughed, "I remember telling him he cleans up nice when he wants to. He immediately told me I looked like something the Sand People had dragged in."
"Gallows humour," Irys remarked dryly.
Luke nodded grimly, "We both knew we would be beyond lucky to get out of this. I was good, but I was about to attempt what most sentients call a death-race with a virtually unarmed skyhopper. Our 'hopper looked practically innocent near the other ones with all of their weapon modifications," he shook his head. "I remember seeing Aunt Beru in the stands near the start-point, and Uncle Owen being escorted towards us from the same entrance I had been brought through." Luke frowned, "They both were doing everything they could not to look terrified, but somehow I just knew they were."
"Not long after we got there they brought the other contestants out," he shuddered slightly, "Most of them looked like the husks of people: empty sunken eyes with no life of their own. The others though, they were the ones that had been twisted by circumstance until they enjoyed the whole thing. Those were almost worse because they had this insanity in their eyes like they didn't care if the got hurt so long as they could hurt someone else in the process." Luke rubbed his eyes tiredly, the late hour starting to get to him, "We all headed to our skyhoppers and started getting ready to start the race as the announcer read off a list of 'crimes' Biggs and I were being held guilty for, as well as the terms of the bet I had going with Jabba before going into the usual announcer spiel. I spent most of the pre-flight sequence wondering how the stadium had gotten so packed when the race had only been decided on the night before."
"Deathmatches have always had their own appeal to the masses," Irys stated darkly. "They have a primal allure that the more civilized sentients ignore."
"I figured that out pretty quickly and it wasn't the happiest of realizations. I was pretty bitter about it, though I didn't have much time to worry about it then. The takeoff timer was counting down before I could think too hard about anything and the next thing I knew we were off." He shook his head, "I should have been paying more attention to the other racers at the start because the first thing one of them did was shoot out my main heavy-duty laser cannon leaving me with the pneumatic cannons and nothing else. I had never bothered with installing any other weapons because we had only used the T-16 in races where it was against the rules to use weapons against each other. By that point I was really regretting that choice."
Wedge whistled, "Yeah, I can imagine."
Luke winced, "Yeah. Needless to say I was completely focused after that, and it was a good thing, because it only got worse from there. My only saving grace was the fact that none of the competition was trying to kill me early in the race; that only happened closer to the end as the number of racers decreased. I never got proof, but I'm pretty sure they were told to try and disable my ship so I wouldn't become damaged property," he smiled mirthlessly. "Toward the end was when they started taking the more deadly shots at me and trying to ram me into the terrain." Luke closed his eyes briefly and sighed wearily at the memory, "Up until that point in my life I had never been truly challenged, but the slaves I was racing against were all genuinely skilled otherwise they wouldn't have survived as long as they had. They also had the added advantage of having far more and better weaponry installed on their owners' skyhoppers. The entire situation was a mess, but I told myself to treat it like any other race, and that helped to calm me enough to focus on what was going on,. After that it was just sheer adrenaline. Like every race before, everything I didn't need to focus on faded away, and I started to feel more than see what was going on."
"You mentioned something similar earlier. Does this mean that even then you were able to connect with the Force unconsciously?" Irys asked, her tone curious.
"I guess so?" Luke shrugged, "I've kind of thought that for a while now." She nodded and he continued, "Eventually I ended up far more focused than I had ever been before, and at some point between having a skyhopper with nasty spikes on the edges of its lower airfoils trying to ram into me as we went around a switchback, and another one firing a some sort of torpedo of all things at me, I realized I was actually enjoying myself," he smiled wryly.
"Hardly surprising from someone that compared trying to shoot the exhaust port on the Death Star to tagging womp-rats in a T-16," Wedge ribbed good naturedly.
Irys looked at Luke in surprisingly open disbelief, her facial fur rippling, "With that attitude I'm amazed you survived the battle, much less blew up the space station."
Luke chuckled, "I might've been a little off on the difficulty of that."
"Yeah, just a little," Wedge grinned as Irys shook her head.
Luke returned the grin and continued, "The race route itself might not have been so bad if I wasn't constantly having to dodge attacks from the other racers. I mean, it was challenging, but nothing I hadn't ever had to do before. Those other racers though," he shook his head again, "They were vicious. Even when they weren't trying to kill me it was intense. I spent more time dodging than I did paying attention to the direction I was flying in, and toward the end of the race I know I narrowly avoided dying more times than I care to think about. At one point, one of the racers fired on another one beside me, then tried to ram them into me. The damage was so bad they nearly exploded on impact with me. I only barely managed to get to the side a nanosecond before their 'hopper exploded." He rubbed his eyes again and yawned wearily, "The after-burn nearly blinded me and I could barely see what happened after that, but I still managed to keep going long enough to get my vision back and dodge a racer that looked like he was trying to commit suicide so long as it took me out. They missed and ended up charbroiled against a wall, and that one wasn't the only one to try it." His jaw tightened into a grim line, "When sentients stop paying attention to self preservation they're so much more dangerous. It's hard to really wrap my head around even now just how far gone they all were mentally."
Irys nodded, "When sentients get broken it's never pretty. A lot go insane."
Luke grimaced, "Yeah." For a moment he drifted off into thought and then shook himself slightly and focused back on the present tiredly, "Up until the end it was close. I was one of four surviving 'hoppers and all of them were focusing on stopping me or getting past me with no regard for the consequences to themselves. I managed to dodge two that were trying to ram me from both sides by rolling over the top of one - not something you normally want to do in a 'hopper I should add - and they both collided. After that I managed to disable one with my remaining pneumatic cannons, but the last one kept weaving back and forth to keep me from getting a lock on it. At that point it became more of a race and less of a death-match. I took some of those final curves on the inside going so fast I nearly blacked out several times." He huffed in now-jaded mirth, "It was exhilarating at the time, and I managed to cross the line half a 'hopper-length in front of the other racer. Thinking back on it though, it was way too close." He breathed in deeply and continued, "Then it got really messy. I got out of the T-16 and Jabba was absolutely furious. Before I had even stepped away from the 'hopper he ordered the last racer killed, and if his reputation wasn't on the line I'm sure he would have accused me of cheating. The guards threw Uncle Owen into the crowd that was surging out of the stands and he nearly got trampled." Luke grit his teeth, "I couldn't do anything about it because I had guards coming to cuff me and I ended up on the ground unable to move. I have no idea how it happened, but I heard a bunch of arguing on the loudspeaker and then Aunt Beru's voice was suddenly echoing around us challenging the bet criteria." He found himself caught up in the memory as he continued to talk to the other two.
"Gentle-beings I, Beru Lars, have important information in regards to the current bet parametres!" Her voice booms across the complex sounding slightly strained as if she is fighting for the microphone. There is a long rasping pause in which the microphone must have been released because her next words are calmer, "I am the wife of Owen Lars, and the safety of my family members has been confirmed by the outcome of this race. It is because of this that I would like to know why my nephew is being manhandled on the ground currently."
Suddenly there is hope.
"I can see where this is going, your Aunt was a smart woman," Irys smirked.
Luke nodded, "I had unintentionally made a loophole, but it wasn't over yet."
What?! Jabba roars, his deep voice carrying through the sudden silence.
A pause, "Almighty Jabba, it has been well-broadcasted what the parametres of this bet are, yet I see your guards holding my nephew against his will."
Nephew? the hutt's voice joins hers in a loud stadium-wide echo as the guards around Luke seem to pick up on what is occurring and begin helping him up.
"Yes your greatness," Luke sees her curtsey in what he realizes is her best dress, "Luke Skywalker is the son of my husband's step-brother who died some years ago. We have raised him since he was a baby."
What proof of this do you have? the hutt rumbles dangerously.
Luke sees her pull out a data-chip and hand it over for inspection to one of Jabba's group so that it could be verified. The being runs a scan on it with a datapad before nodding and showing the results to Jabba.
Jabba roars and his underlings scatter. The data chip is given back to Aunt Beru.
She continues looking unruffled from this distance, though Luke knows better, "I have one other who would speak in support of my claim to further verify it."
Another person steps forward to the microphone and Luke has to do a double take. It's Biggs, holding himself with the confidence and posture of someone who is high-born, and really on Tatooine Luke supposes he is, though he's never seen him like this before.
"My name is Biggs Darklighter, first-born in the Darklighter household. Many of those here today make use of our family's business, and the Lars' are of no exception. In all of my memory Luke Skywalker has lived with his Aunt and Uncle. The first time I saw him he was only weeks old and I was five standard years old. He has been raised by them his entire life." He inclines his head stiffly, "It is this information that I would submit as secondary proof to back up Beru Lars' claim."
Luke looks over and flinches at the rage Jabba is almost bursting with; he had managed to trick the hutt two-fold, though only downplaying of Biggs' position in his household had been a deliberate decision on his part.
SKYWALKER! the hutt booms, the magnified voice shaking the stadium seating.
Luke winces as he is lead by the guards to stand in front of Jabba. Once the guards back off he straightens his clothes as best he can while doing his best to hold his calm before he bows slightly to assuage the gangster's anger, "Yes your greatness?"
You tricked me! the hutt shakes with rage, the rolls of fat wobbling sickeningly.
Luke breathes in deeply through his nose and forces himself to appear nonchalant, "Mighty Jabba, whether you see this as a trick or not is a matter of opinion." Luke shrugs, "You took the bet knowing that there would be consequences. It is now up to you to hold up your end. I know that you are an honourable hutt, and I trust that you will go through with your promise."
The hutt seems to swell in anger before it closes its eyes and deflates back to its normal size, Know this Skywalker, if this were not a matter of honour you would find yourself dead, and your companions with you. Do not cross me again.
Luke bows again slightly, "I am well aware, and I will endeavour to stay out of your way."
Jabba gurgles in disgust and gestures towards his guards, Escort them out and be sure they do not return.
"I never did get to race in an official competition again after that, and while I definitely knew why, it was still disappointing," Luke shook his head. He perked up slightly, "Of course, since I wasn't hiding what we had been doing from Aunt Beru and Uncle Lars anymore I was able to use some of our previous winnings to get my own T-16 and work on it."
"I'm surprised your Uncle didn't ground you into your next lifetime," Wedge snickered.
"Oh he wanted to, you can believe that. Thankfully Aunt Beru was just happy we were all safe. The two of them settled on keeping me around the homestead more, though I was still allowed to visit town occasionally with Biggs. Over the next couple of years we ended up making a few other friends that we raced from time to time in Beggar's Canyon, but beyond that my life was pretty dull. I had been planning on going to join the Imperial Flight Academy like Biggs did to get off that dust-ball," he added wryly. His expression slipped into a pained grimace, "Then everything happened and I ended up leaving the planet anyway."
Irys nodded, "I have obviously caused you to remember painful memories, and for that I appologize."
Luke shook his head tiredly and smiled, "No, it's alright. It was nice remembering them as they were for a little while, even though some of it wasn't the best of memories."
Irys nodded and unfolded herself from the base of his bed, "It is not often that people are able to outwit a hutt," she grinned tauntingly, "Especially not on accident."
Luke felt himself blush all the way down his neck and grumbled in embarrassment as Wedge laughed riotously.
Irys tried and failed to straighten her wrinkled clothes and checked her chrono, "As exciting as this has been we should at least try to get some sleep so we can pretend to be functional sentients during the mission."
Luke laughed shortly, his face still slightly pink, "Yeah, that may be a good idea."
Irys headed toward the door then stopped in the doorway and turned back slightly with a smirk, "By the way if you are trying to learn to speak the dialect of binary that the R2 series favoured then you will need another holo-book. They have an interesting accent, and while that book will teach you the basics of binary, it will only get you so far."
With that she pressed the button to open the door and stepped back out into the hallway as it hissed shut behind her.
Luke stared at her blankly as the draft of cold air drifted across the room from the hall before looking down at his holopad then turning to Wedge who was trying - and failing - to stop himself from laughing, "Well shavit all," he cursed and tossed the datapad to the bed's side-table before he cut off the overhead light, leaving Wedge to stumble towards his temporary cot in the dark.
"All personnel report to their designated locations. Reversion to realspace in five minutes," a droid's cool and detached voice stated blandly over the ship's intercom as Luke stood surrounded by the Rogue Squadron including their newest member - and Bothan Agent - Rogue Twelve. The group had welcomed her with unsurprisingly open arms after her dry humour had immediately endeared her to them, allowing her to fit right in with the mix of personalities.
"Alright everyone, remember, as soon as the Corellia's Luck drops out of hyperspace the bridge is going to begin scanning for anything that's out of place. If they don't find something within one minute we've been cleared to exit the hangar and begin our mission. If you see anything that even resembles something suspicious or what we're looking for report it in immediately. There is a possibility that our people are out there and need our help, so let's get to it as quickly and cleanly as possible. Lives may be at stake, so try not to mess around too much," he looked pointedly at several members of the squadron and there was muted laughter. "Everyone suit up and get ready to show them why we're the best," he grinned and some of the others whooped as they raced off to their X-wings.
Irys chuckled, "Not bad for a farm-boy."
Luke turned toward where Wedge and Irys were standing side-by-side, "Very funny." He rolled his eyes, "You two ready to go?"
Wedge zipped up his flight-suit, "Always."
Irys pulled her helmet on and gave him a thumbs up before lithely climbing the ladder into her X-wing.
"Show off!" Wedge called after her before clambering into his own ship.
Luke smiled at their antics as he reached out gently for the Force. His smile grew wider as he realized the action was finally pain-free, and he allowed himself to follow the childish instinct to jump up to the edge of the cockpit of his own fighter, use his arms to snag the edge of it, and swing himself into the seat in one smooth movement. He waved at the other two smugly before pulling on his helmet as he saw Irys shake her head in amusement, and heard Wedge ranting about punching a hole in their egos when they got back on the ground.
Luke smiled in high spirits as he settled into his seat somewhat awkwardly with the winter gear he was wearing under his flight-suit. Now if he could just get rid of the proverbial bad feeling he kept getting whenever he thought about the rebels on Allyuen everything would be great. He shook his head and sighed. Hopefully they would succeed in rescuing the group, and the feeling would go away.
"Hyperspace reversion in T-minus ten, nine, eight-" the intercom echoed around the hangar and through the main channel of the com-units as Luke did a final check to make sure everything was in order, "three, two, one. Reversion."
Luke felt the slight rumble indicating that the ship had returned to realspace and shivered as the temperature suddenly dropped even further.
They had arrived.
AN:I would apologize for how long it took me to post this, but I think by this point it goes without saying.
This chapter fought me like a freaking mule, and did NOT want to be written. I'm honestly amazed it turned out as decently as it did. Present tense and 'story-telling' are probably my biggest weaknesses when it comes to writing (aside from commas), and this chapter contained quite a bit of both by necessity.
For those of you who have stuck with me, Thanks! For those of you who are just starting, hopefully it will be a shorter time between updates this time.
As always, I remain un-beta'd, so hopefully I didn't miss too many errors. More importantly, I hope this chapter makes sense, because seriously, it hated me.
Random Info:
- A harch (the being crammed in beside Luke in the stands while he watched his first race) is a humanoid spider person, and honestly they're probably an arachnophobic person's worst nightmare
- T-16s look nothing like you would think they would when hearing the term 'skyhopper' in conjunction with racing in canyons (or maybe it's just me that thought they would look different); they're actually surprisingly similar to a lambda shuttle as far as shape goes, only from what I can tell, the lower airfoils (wings) don't fold up when landing.
- Yes, I broke the canon for Luke's childhood.
-No, I'm not sorry.