1 : The Beginnings of Hope

The Tantive IV raced through the blackness of space, its sublight engines pushing themselves almost to overload. Once, this ship had been a proud member of the Alderaan fleet, but the rigors of wartime and the dwindling resources of the Rebel Alliance had stripped this ship down to its essentials. Though used to running from Imperial forces, the massive, bone-white star destroyer that loomed behind it was gaining quickly. Turbolaser fire lanced out, raking the ship's shields and sending shudders throughout the ship. The Tantive IV was dying.

"We're going to be boarded!" Captain Raymus Antilles shouted to the rest of his bridge crew who were flying over every major system, locking out the main computer and shutting down any system which could be used against them. "Prepare to repel boarding parties. I want all available men covering the main airlock. Move!"

Though generally a reserved man, Captain Antilles quickly found himself feeling frantic. If his suspicions were correct about who was in command of that star destroyer were true, then none of them were getting out of this alive. He turned to the man beside him, a regal youth of about nineteen years of age, dressed simply but elegantly in the classical style his father favored.

"Any ideas, your highness?"

The man nodded, appearing unconcerned. "I expected such an attack. The Death Star plans are well hidden, Captain. We have little to fear."

Captain Antilles scoffed. "I can't tell if you're being confident or arrogant, sir. You have heard what they do to prisoners, haven't you? What about Imperial senators who are revealed to be key members of the Alliance? If I were you, I'd be looking for a plan of escape."

"And leave the ship behind?" The question hung in the air like an accusation.

"Of course not, but we've already lost the ship and I'm out of ideas."

The prince rounded on Antilles. "Those plans are bigger than you, me, or this ship. Any of us are expendable as long as they further the Alliance's cause." A distant thud echoed through the ship, distracting him momentarily. "However, I'm not prepared to surrender this ship or anyone on it to the Empire. You have my word, Captain."

"If you say so, sir." Antilles glanced out the bridge viewport. A dusty planet rotated quietly off to the port side of the ship. "Should we abandon ship? That planet doesn't look very welcoming, but we might have a chance there."

The prince shook his head. "The star destroyer would try to shoot down the pods. Even if some did make it to the planet, I know some wouldn't make it. I'm not willing to risk anyone in a stunt like that." He allowed himself a brief, faint smile. "I do need you to release the safeties. Make it look like a malfunction as best you can. It would be a pity if any of our escape pods just happened to accidentally jettison during the attack." He shot a wink to the Captain, who nodded.

"I don't know what you're up to, sir, but I trust you."

"Thank you captain. And drop the titles. It's just Luke."

"Yes, your highn—Luke."

Prince Luke Organa of Alderaan inclined his head and left the bridge, his half-cape flaring behind him.

R2-D2 appreciated having C-3P0 around, but sometimes he wished he could just trundle off and leave the frantic gold-colored droid behind (not that he would ever do such a thing). The prince had made it very clear that Artoo was to reveal the information to no one but Obi-Wan Kenobi. The droid had immediately double-encrypted the data into the deepest recesses of his programming and had then created several dummy files that were much more easily accessible. Were any Imperials to break into those files, all they would find would be schematics for outdated Nubian fighters as well as a particularly insidious computer virus that would eventually disrupt any device attempting to read the information.

The prince's files were safely hidden. Now, all that needed to be done was to hide himself.

Threepio started as he noticed Artoo hobbling into an open escape pod and began protesting. Artoo tweeted a reply back to the droid, being careful to keep any references to the prince's mission well veiled. If the protocol droid was captured, it would be much easier to extract the information from him. His more human mannerisms and synthetic emotions made him much more easy to read and manipulate. It was times like this that Artoo enjoyed being an astromech droid. It was easy to slip into the background. When they had been transferred into the service of Captain Antilles, Bail Organa had only requested a memory wipe for Threepio, leaving all of Artoo's knowledge of everything that had happened before the formation of the Empire intact. Such knowledge was dangerous, so Artoo rarely volunteered such information to anyone, but it was there, lurking within his digital memory.

Finally Threepio relented. "I'm going to regret this," he said as he huddled into the escape pod after Artoo.

Luke Organa rounded the corner to behold a terrifying sight. Darth Vader, the Emperor's vicious right hand man, stood tall amidst a sea of bodies—men Luke had vowed to protect. Captain Antilles would have insisted that it was their duty to protect him, but Luke still felt a great surge of guilt at seeing the dead strewn about like discarded armor.

He steadied his voice. "Lord Vader, I was willing to offer myself up freely. None of these men deserved to die."

The armored and cloaked figure approached him with a deadly smoothness. "Why would you need to offer yourself up?" The distorted, bass voice chilled Luke to the bone. "You admit that you carry the stolen plans?"

"I admit nothing," Luke said, maintaining a haughty stance. "Meaningless violence is the Empire's way, isn't it? I would much rather offer myself up as a prisoner than allow you to capture my ship and murder my men."

Vader pointed a gloved finger at Luke. "Your pithy attempt at appearing noble will do you little good, your highness. I know that you are helping the Rebel Alliance and I want to know where the plans you intercepted are being kept."

Luke narrowed his eyes. "I am an Imperial senator to Alderaan transporting—"

Vader cut him off. "You are a traitor. Nothing else." He turned to the stormtroopers arrayed behind him. "Take him away."

Leia Skywalker shook her head as a vendor shoved a sparking piece of machinery in her face. The inexpensive part she needed was sitting on a shelf behind the Gamorrean, but he had refused to show it to her until he had taken her through his entire inventory. Biting back a scathing reply, Leia forced herself to be patient.

After all, life in Mos Eisley was hardly easy for anyone. She couldn't blame the Gamorrean vendor for being desperate. The only real industry was chance. Beings survived on luck until it ran out and then they lost everything. If someone could get a hold of a ship, they could leave and try to make it somewhere else, but, sooner or later, everyone returned to drown their lives away in one of the local cantinas.

After some brief haggling, Leia finally got the part she needed. Though she thanked the vendor, he seemed disappointed that she hadn't bought anything else. From the looks of his inventory, the fuel converter she had bought had been the only functional item he had had.

It was easy to walk through the streets of Mos Eisley and feel like you were so far from civilization that you were, in fact, in another galaxy. Leia's decision to move to the spaceport had been hard on her aunt and uncle, but they had eventually understood. Her aunt Beru had always been fiercely protective of her, as if she were a crown jewel to be hidden from the world. Tough love had always been uncle Owen's tactic, but beneath it all, she could tell that he adored her as much as her aunt.

Living with them had been wonderful, but that tiny house in the middle of nowhere was filled with the ghosts of generations past. Certain areas seemed to be so emotionally charged that she almost felt like an intruder. The garage, for one, had seemed to be so filled with anguish and rage that Leia was sure something awful had happened. Uncle Owen had told her that spirits and magic and all that nonsense were pure fantasy and Leia had believed him. The only other alternative had been that those feelings were simmering deep within herself somewhere as her soul was wasted away in the stagnation of this endless desert.

The decision had not been made lightly, but it had come at the right time. Uncle Owen had been able to hire some new workers to help with the harvest and they had agreed that she should be able to go and see for herself what she could find.

The tiny repair shop and the closet-sized living space she now owned were meager to the point of comical, but it was her shop. She had leased it for a few months before the owner had been killed in a bar brawl and sole ownership went to her since nobody stepped forward to claim the shop. It had been fortuitous for her. She had poured her soul into the shop, collecting pieces from Jawas and traders and even rummaging through junk piles. She was a talented mechanic and had a knack for making even stubborn parts work. That alone had kept her business alive.

The evening streets were quieting down as everyone rushed inside to stay warm during the frigid desert nights. The air was still sweltering, but without the constant bombardment by the suns, the heat was actually quite pleasant. A stubborn ronto was giving a group of jittery Jawa's some trouble, but apart from that, the streets were quiet.

Until she heard blasterfire from within one of the local cantinas. It wasn't that unusual an occurrence, though, so Leia just crossed to the opposite side of the street. Moments later, a staggering human and a hulking Wookiee ran out of the cantina at full tilt. The bartender appeared a few seconds later, screaming curses at them as they fled. The human man caught Leia's eye and despite the fact that he was the most ungraceful runner Leia had ever seen, managed to try and shoot her a roguish grin. She rolled her eyes and kept walking.

At least it was never boring in Mos Eisley, she thought to herself as she headed home, the twin suns simmering over the horizon like veiled jewels, scored and dulled by the desert sands.