Skywalker's Legacy
by Denise Hazelwood
by Denise Hazelwood
(Takes place maybe a couple of decades after The Legion Renewed.)
Luke has changed his name and is trying to single-handedly raise his rebellious daughter Brenna, who is just about of age to be considered an adult, while an old enemy engages in a plan to wreak his revenge on Luke by killing off all the Jedi he's trained. Meanwhile, Leia disappears as one part of an attack against the New Republic Senators
Luke has changed his name and is trying to single-handedly raise his rebellious daughter Brenna, who is just about of age to be considered an adult, while an old enemy engages in a plan to wreak his revenge on Luke by killing off all the Jedi he's trained. Meanwhile, Leia disappears as one part of an attack against the New Republic Senators
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Prologue
The stories had begun almost a generation before. Some of them were true; most of them weren't. There were only a handful of individuals left who knew the difference. With the loss of so many who knew, the stories became relegated to the realm of legends and rumors: rumors that the Jedi had been revived, rumors that they hadn't died out completely.
There were other rumors, too. Rumors that the Empire, long thought to be dead, was somehow coming back. The New Republic struggled hard to rebuild the worlds that had been decimated during the Emperor's control, but the poverty-stricken victims of the Empire complained that the Republic wasn't moving fast enough, and the worlds that hadn't been brought to poverty under the Empire complained about bearing the burden. With such dissention, the time was ripe for unscrupulous power-seekers to seize any opportunity to increase their might.
There were some individuals, though, who recognized the danger and sought to eliminate it before history could repeat its mistakes. But those who sought to bring unity to the New Republic had recently begun to mysteriously disappear.
Among those still left was Senator Leia Organa-Solo, one of the authors of the proposed New Constitution...
The stories had begun almost a generation before. Some of them were true; most of them weren't. There were only a handful of individuals left who knew the difference. With the loss of so many who knew, the stories became relegated to the realm of legends and rumors: rumors that the Jedi had been revived, rumors that they hadn't died out completely.
There were other rumors, too. Rumors that the Empire, long thought to be dead, was somehow coming back. The New Republic struggled hard to rebuild the worlds that had been decimated during the Emperor's control, but the poverty-stricken victims of the Empire complained that the Republic wasn't moving fast enough, and the worlds that hadn't been brought to poverty under the Empire complained about bearing the burden. With such dissention, the time was ripe for unscrupulous power-seekers to seize any opportunity to increase their might.
There were some individuals, though, who recognized the danger and sought to eliminate it before history could repeat its mistakes. But those who sought to bring unity to the New Republic had recently begun to mysteriously disappear.
Among those still left was Senator Leia Organa-Solo, one of the authors of the proposed New Constitution...
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Chapter One
Han Solo had once been captain of the fastest freighter ever to grace the stars. He had been a smuggler and an outlaw. He had even been a general in the Alliance fleet and the Commander for the Corellian Defense Force. But the job that had lasted the longest over the years was that of husband/father/family man, and right now he was concerned with living up to the duties which that job title conferred on him.
He made his way to Leia's private study, nodded briefly to Wedge Antilles, who was standing guard outside the door, and without any announcement entered the private chamber. Wedge had been one of Luke's closest friends, but that had been over fifteen standard years ago. Regardless of that, Han trusted Wedge implicitly. The man was Corellian, like Han, and Corellians might fight like school children among themselves, but they never, ever betrayed one another to outsiders. It just wasn't done.
Leia looked up from her desk. Her face was drawn and tired. She looked over at the security 'droid when she saw Han and asked, "Clear?"
The floating sphere answered in the affirmative. It detected no electronic activity that indicated someone might be monitoring the room. Leia had the room swept twice daily anyway, just in case, per Wedge's suggestion. So far she hadn't found anything in here, but these days it paid to be cautious.
"Critton's gone," Han said gruffly. "Disappeared. Just like the others."
"I know," his wife replied in a strained voice.
"Did you know that Critton's wife and daughter were killed when they took him?"
She looked at him sharply, and Han realized that she hadn't known that. She stood up and held her hands out to him. "Oh, Han—"
He went to her, held her, comforted her. She was getting older now. Streaks of gray had lined her otherwise dark hair. But she was still strong. Still fighting, despite the odds, for what she believed in. She would never give up.
"You know what this means?" he whispered.
She nodded. "The children."
"They're in danger now, Leia." He moved slightly away so he could look at her. As I see it, we have two choices. One: you can withdraw from the Senate."
"No. This Constitution is too important. I'm the only one left now to argue for it."
"You can't argue for it if you're dead."
"It's my life's work. I can't abandon it."
"I'm not suggesting you stop your work. We can go away, all of us—you, me, Chewie, the kids, even Wedge—and you can do your fighting from the back door, organize an underground movement—"
"I've been through that before, Han. I can't wait for the roots of a new Empire to take hold and for people to start realizing what's happened before I act. Besides, I'm getting too old for that sort of thing."
Han nodded, having known what her answer would be even before he had asked. "Well, then, that leaves our second choice. Two:"
"Two—" Leia finished, "you and the children could go away."
"No," Han countered. "Just the children. With Chewie to look after them."
"Please, Han, I want you to—"
He hushed her by pressing his fingers to her lips. "We've been through a lot together, Leia. You're not going to get rid of me so easily."
Leia looked at her husband with eyes full of love. Vanity had prompted him to dye the signs of age out of his hair, so it was impossible to say just how much of his original color he retained, but the lines on his face were a little deeper, his jowls a little heavier then when they had first met. Nevertheless, she loved him as much as ever—more, in fact, because their years of marriage had developed a closeness that could only come with time.
"So where do we send them?" Han asked.
The answer didn't require any thought. "We send them to Luke."
"Are you sure that's the best place for them?"
"He'll take good care of them. After all, he is still a Jedi Knight."
"I don't know. I never put as much stock in that religion as you have, and besides, Luke renounced the Jedi faith long ago."
"He hasn't renounced it."
"What else do you call it? He doesn't see anyone, doesn't visit anyone, doesn't—"
"He is still a Jedi Knight."
"Like that counts for anything. The only one left is Wedge."
"None of the others had Luke’s capabilities. Including Wedge."
"Yeah, whatever." He didn't much care where they sent the kids, as long as it was away from here. "If you want to send them to Luke, that's fine by me. Maybe we should send Threepio with a message, let him know they're coming. Damn 'droid belongs to him, anyway."
"I sent Threepio as soon as I heard about Critton," Leia replied, "even though I didn't know about Critton's wife and daughter."
Han crossed his arms over his chest. "You know, Leia, just once it would be nice to actually have a say in some of the decisions that are made around here."
Leia smiled. "You do have a say. But it was a foregone conclusion that we'd send the kids away, and there's no one else I trust. I did tell Luke that I hoped you would be with them, but I doubted you would be. If you convinced me to send the kids somewhere else, I'd send another message to cancel Threepio's."
Han sighed, and his annoyance left with the breath he expelled. He hated when she did that. But at the moment, it didn't much matter. There were other things to worry about.
He wished he had Leia's confidence in the abilities of the Jedi Knights in general, and in Luke in particular. It didn't matter how powerful the Jedi were supposed to be, it just wasn't enough. Look at what happened to the rest of them. Most of them were probably dead. They were all missing, at least. Wedge Antilles was the only one left, and he said the others were dead, if you could count on that Force-thing as accurate. The others had been sent to guard the other senators, the most prominent targets, and had disappeared along with the people they were supposed to protect. Wedge had chosen to stick next to Leia, which was probably why Leia hadn't disappeared yet. Wedge was the best, but he wasn't infallible. The others had been strong, too, but they hadn't been strong enough to prevent the kidnappings.
"Don't worry," Han said softly, as much to himself as to Leia. "Chewie will take good care of the kids, even if Luke doesn't want 'em. I'll make sure there's enough diapers and baby formula in stock."
Leia smiled. It was a private joke between them. None of their three offspring had been in diapers or baby formula for more years than either of them cared to count. Lucy was already a sophomore at the Academy, and she was almost a year younger than Rupert. Even the youngest, Poul, only had a couple years left before he entered adolescence. Referring to them as 'children' or 'kids' or 'babies' served to make them feel a little less old, a little less 'over the hill.'
But even the two older ones needed someone to watch over them at times. They weren't quite grown up yet. They still had the impulsiveness and recklessness of youth. If left on their own, they'd probably want to stay behind and defend their parents—which, of course, was out of the question.
Also, somebody responsible would have to look after Poul and make sure he stayed out of trouble. Han wasn't sure Lucienne and Rupert were the best people for that, the two of them getting into so many scrapes themselves.
Therefore, Chewbacca would have to act as chaperone for the troupe.
Suddenly there was a commotion in the hall. Han had already unholstered his blaster and was on the point of shoving Leia under the desk when loud Wookiee growls, punctuated by familiar-sounding human shouts and muffled arguments came to them through the door. Han relaxed and put his blaster back. He gave Leia a smile that said this was the last time things would ever be this normal, and waited.
The door to the study was kicked open by a large hairy foot.
Han shook his head. "I keep tellin' ya Chewie, you're gonna break it that way."
Chewbacca ignored the comment and hauled his dual burden into the room with a gentleness that was apparent only in the fact that his charges didn't have broken necks. In each hairy paw he held one of Han and Leia's older children. He gave them a light shove that sent them staggering towards their parents. The mortu, Rupert's constant companion, was right behind them, and padded over to its cushion, too used to the Wookiee to consider it a threat. Poul followed Wookiee, humans, and mortu into the room with a high-pitched, "Now you're gonna get it!"
Wedge appeared behind the entire group, and discreetly closed the door from the other side.
"Okay, Chewie, what's going on?" Han asked.
"Tell 'em, Unca' Chewie!" Poul piped, coming out from behind the Wookiee's legs.
Han shot his youngest what he hoped was an appropriately withering look. "I wasn't talking to you."
The gaze had its desired effect. The boy sunk into a silence which, Han knew from experience, was only temporary.
The Wookiee relayed the story in a series of barks, hoots, and growls that only a few people could understand. Han was one of those people. Leia was now, too, having had nearly two decades to practice. The children, of course, understood the Wookiee tongue as if they had been raised in it—which was essentially true. Chewbacca spent nearly as much time in the Solo household as he did on his homeworld, and with the recent disappearances of the senators, had returned for another extended visit.
As Han listened to the tale, he grew angry with Rupert and Lucienne, but he couldn't really blame them. Being cooped up and confined in the home at their age was difficult. He couldn't really expect them to enjoy being confined to the house, but damn it, didn't they realize the risks they were taking? How dare they sneak off like that! They could have been killed.
Furthermore, the Wookiee related, Rupert and Lucy had been irresponsible enough to take Poul with them. Here Han wondered whether Chewbacca wasn't prejudicing the story in Poul's favor. The big lug always tended to champion the underdog, which to a Wookiee was usually the smallest being around. Around here, the smallest was Poul. Probably what had happened was that Poul, seeing Lucy and Rupert leave, had decided to follow them on his own without their even knowing about it.
Sometimes, Han reflected, Chewbacca was just as much of a child as Poul.
When the Wookiee finished, Leia looked from one older child to the other. "Whose idea was this?" she asked angrily.
Of course Lucy had thought of it. Of course Rupert would take all the blame. And of course, Lucy would let him. Han wondered if Leia would ever catch on.
"It was my idea," Rupert said, hanging his head. "Lucy came after me to try to stop me. I didn't know Poul had tagged along, too."
"And just where did you think you were going?" Leia demanded.
Rupert shrugged. "For a walk."
"Knowing full well that it was strictly forbidden, and taking your sister and brother with you?"
"Like I said, I didn't know Poul would tag along."
"Is that right, Poul?" Leia asked.
"I didn't do nothin'!" Poul declared.
The kid would go far, Han decided, even if he were a rotten liar. But there was nothing to be done for it now, except hope that Rupert and Lucy would learn from their mistakes. "Let it go, Leia. There are more important things right now."
Leia nodded, but Han could still see the anger and fear in her face. These were her children. She didn't want them hurt or injured, and their stupid behavior could possibly have cost them their lives.
"Aren't you going to punish him?" Poul demanded.
"Not this time," Han answered.
"Why not?" he asked petulantly.
"Because," Leia said, stepping forward and taking him by the arm to lead him back to his room. "We haven't got time. And besides, if we punished Rupert and Lucy, we'd have to punish you, too, for following, and we haven't got time for that, either. So count yourself lucky. Now go to your room for a few minutes. I have to send a message, and then I'll be right up. You're going on a trip, so you have to decide what to pack."
Instantly Rupert and Lucy straightened up, and exchanged glances. That's when Han realized that they really did understand the seriousness of the situation and knew that it was time to be adults. This was not play any more; this was the real thing.
"A trip!" Poul exclaimed. "Where we goin'?"
Rupert waited until his mother and little brother had left the room. "Something's happened," he said, concerned. "What is it, Dad?"
"Critton's disappeared, and his family's been killed."
Rupert started, and looked over at his sister.
She was staring at her father. "His family killed?"
"Yes." So Lucy had known about Critton, but not his family. That was probably why she had left. Critton was a good friend of the family's. He had promised Lucy a political internship when she completed her next year at the Academy. His daughter was about Lucy's age, and they had been fairly good friends.
Rupert said, "So we're going away?"
"Well, you kids are, anyway."
"Where?"
"The most desolate, miserable hunk of space-rock in the galaxy. Sorry, but that's the place your mother chose."
Rupert took a deep breath. "Dad, let me stay. You know how good I am with a blaster."
"I know you're good, Son. That's why I need you to go with Lucy and Poul."
"Dad—" Rupert lowered his voice so that only Han could hear. "Dad, Lucy and Poul can manage without me. I'd rather stay here. I can't leave Mom unprotected."
Han spoke in a return whisper. "Believe me, Rue, I know how you feel. But I can't have you weirding out on me just at a critical moment. You'll do a lot more good with Lucy and Poul. You've never weirded out while spacing, and it's going to be a long trip."
Rupert pressed his lips together, then nodded understanding. As much as he wanted to stay, he couldn't risk having another episode and being more of a burden than a help.
Chewbacca, his sensitive Wookiee ears picking up their low conversation, growled an interrogative.
"Yeah, Pal." Han replied. "I want you to go with them. Keep your god-children out of trouble, will you?" To Rupert he said, "Don't worry. Everything will be fine here."
.
.
.
Rupert sat on the bed, watching his sister stuff the travel case beyond what it was made to hold, and scratching the mortu on the head between its curled horns. Lucy wasn't particularly neat about her work, and she wasn't particularly choosy about it, either. She stopped long enough to glare at Rupert when a sudden thought struck her, and glanced at where the animal lay on the floor under the bed where Rupert was sitting, head stretched up to meet Rupert's hand and hooves sticking out towards her. "You're not bringing that damn mortu along, are you?"
"As a matter of fact," Rupert said, "I am."
"Dad's not going to let you."
"He already said I could."
"Figures," Lucienne muttered, then went back to flinging things indiscriminately into the case.
"You're gonna need anti-grav caddies to carry that thing," Rupert observed.
"None of your business," Lucy said.
He went back to watching her in silence. He knew what was eating her. Lucy had been looking forward to attending the Academy next semester. Critton was gone, her friend Kara, Critton's daughter, was dead, and their own parents were the next logical target.
Rupert shared her worry over their parents, and if he didn't feel the affection for Critton and his family that Lucy did, he at least understood it. He suddenly felt lonely, and as if in response to his thoughts, the mortu, whom he had given no name and whom everyone referred to as "the mortu" or as "the damn mortu", crawled out from under the bed and sat next to Rupert, laying its head on Rupert's lap. It was a shaggy beast, with tan-brown fur and two rows of straight, sharp teeth used primarily for cropping plants. The animals were vegetarian by nature, but they made good watch-animals and were easily housebroken. Though they were common enough as pets, Rupert had developed a special affection for this particular beast, and he and the mortu were seldom if ever seen apart. They had been constant companions ever since Rupert had been about the age that Poul was now.
Lucy turned with another armload of stuff and almost stumbled over the animal. "It's not enough I have to put up with that smelly, flea-ridden beast on the ship, do I have to trip over him in my own room, too?"
Rupert made a motion with his hand, and the mortu got to its feet and left the room.
"Thank you," Lucy said. She grabbed a handful of jewelry and threw it on top of the clothes.
"I don't think we're gonna attend many social functions," Rupert pointed out.
"For your information, that's for emergency purposes. It's an untraceable source of currency."
"Untraceable, except for insurance forms, and guild marks, and public photographs of you wearing the stuff—"
"—and when you melt them down, all of that disappears."
"Oh." Rupert said contritely. "But won't you miss some of that junk?"
"Like I said, it's for emergency purposes only. Besides, Deities know when we'll be back here again."
"Well," Rupert replied, rising, "you obviously don't need my help. I'll go check on Poul."
"Why don't you?"
.
.
.
Lucienne was the last of Leia and Han's three offspring to reach the private docking bay at the first sub-level of the Organa-Solo estate. She had to carry her huge travel case, which was bulging, on anti-grav lifts. Han sighed. Maybe it was a female thing. Rupert had made do with a small satchel, and Poul's stuff was already onboard. Except, Rupert had also loaded sacks and sacks of mortu food, and Poul had long ago stowed every three-dee game and war toy that had ever been made. So maybe it all averaged out in the end. Han let Leia and the service 'droid deal with Lucy's luggage, and went to Rupert.
Rupert was talking with Wedge as Han approached. Wedge saw Han coming, said something that Rupert nodded a response to, then himself nodded to Han and moved away politely.
"What did Wedge want?" Han asked.
"Not much," Rupert said with a shrug, showing Han a paper that had been folded and sealed. "He wanted me to give this to the man you're sending us to."
Han supposed he couldn't fault Wedge for wanting to send a message to his former teacher.
"So…where are we going?" Rupert asked.
"Chewie's got the coordinates. When you get where you're going, fly low. Ta—your destination world never spent much on its air-traffic equipment—they don't get that much to begin with. No reason to. You'll see why when you get there. They may or may not spot you coming down, but if you stay low, they won't know where you've landed."
"Okay," Rupert said. "Anything else?"
"Yeah. I'm depending on you to look after your brother and sister. Don't weird-out on me."
"Don't worry, Dad. I've never had a problem in space."
"Yeah, I know. That's what I'm counting on. Okay." He gave Rupert an embrace which was returned. "There's one more thing," Han said. Rupert was already wearing the blaster that Han had given him, identical to the one Han was wearing, and looked a lot like Han had looked in his younger days. The only thing missing from the outfit was the Corellian blood-stripe. But there was something else Han wanted Rupert to have. "Chewie won't be flying in the co-pilot seat just to give you practice flying. From now on, he is your co-pilot."
"What do you mean?" Rupert asked.
Han lifted his fist and opened it to show Rupert the insignia pins he'd once had made, and pinned them to Rupert's collar.
"The Falcon's yours, Son. Her registry's in your name now, and she's programmed so that she'll respond to you as Captain. Now, if you do weird-out, I've installed a transfer switch at the co-pilot station that Chewie can punch to gain control. But he won't do it unless you're incapacitated. Otherwise, if you ram her into a star, he won't stop you."
Rupert was silent for a moment, a little awed at this pronouncement. Then he said, "I'll give her back to you in one piece, Dad."
"No," Han said. "She's yours. Forever. Unless you wreck her."
Rupert grinned. "I won't wreck her."
"See that you don't. She doesn't look like much on the outside, but she's got it where it counts. Saved my life more times than I can remember."
Lucy had finished giving the service 'droid directions on how to unpack her things, and was busy trying to talk Leia into changing her mind about not going.
Han nodded to Rupert, and said, "Say goodbye to your mother." Then he took Lucienne's arm and drew her away from Leia so that Lucy's back was to Leia and Poul, and her body acted as a shield to hide what he was about to do. "Loose," he said, using his special nickname for her, "I want you to do something."
"What?"
Han pulled out a blaster and holster from under his jacket, a smaller version of the twins he and Rupert wore. "I want you to take this, and wear it at all times. But keep it hidden. Tell Rupert and Chewie you've got it, but not Poul. It ain't a toy."
"I'm not as good with that as Rupert."
"I know. But Rupert and Chewie are carrying their weapons openly. That means any hostile eyes are gonna be on them, not you. That might give you a little extra advantage."
Lucy took the weapon and folded it inside her skirt. "Mom know about this?"
"What she doesn't know, she can't forbid," Han replied.
Lucy looked up at him with eyes that reminded Han of her mother. She was so much like Leia. Headstrong, refreshingly rude most of the time, sickeningly polite the rest of the time.
It was scary.
The thruster valves began hissing, indicating that the ship was just about ready to lift off. Rupert had already trotted up the gangplank to help Chewie finish the pre-flight. Han kissed Lucy on the cheek and gave her a shove in the direction of the gangplank. The longer the kids stayed here on the ground, the greater danger they were in.
Poul was the only one left to deal with. Apparently, from the argument Han was overhearing, Poul had refused to pack, and Leia had done the boy's packing for him.
"I don't want to go," Poul said. From Leia's expression, Han gathered that this was not a new utterance. "And I'm not going!"
"You are going," Leia said firmly, then looked at her ultimate resource in situations like this. "Han—?"
Han took the boy by the hand and pulled his small unwilling body up the gangplank. Once inside the ship, he knelt down to the boy's level. "Poul, listen to me," he said. "Everybody thinks that because you're just a kid, you can't do much except get in the way. But I know that's not true." Han rolled up his pants leg and unstrapped the sheathe that held a crystaline knife. With no electronics and no metal, the crystaline blade didn't show up on most weapons scanners, which was why Han had paid top dollar for it. "You take this," he said, "and you wear it on your leg, like that. In an emergency, it might come in handy. It's sharp, so it's only for emergency use. Got that? You're not to be playing with it, understand?"
The boy nodded, somewhat in awe of owning a real weapon.
"Okay," Han said. "Now, if Rupert sees it, he's liable to take it away from you, so keep it out of sight. He is captain of the ship, and he's the oldest, so whatever he says is law. If he wants to take it away from you, then he can. If he sees it, he just might. Zneeka?"
Zneeka was the Reeban word for "Do you comprehend the implications of what I am saying?" It had become a common word in the Organa-Solo household after the visit of a Reeban ambassador, although the original use of it had been more or less in making fun of the ambassador—after he had left, of course.
Poul nodded, still awed.
Han fastened the knife sheathe to Poul's leg—it was more than a little loose on the boy—pulled the pants leg back down, and clapped him on the shoulder. Then he yelled for Lucy to come get her brother and make sure he was strapped in, and when Lucy appeared, remanded his charge to her, hit the delay button on the gangplank, and went back down to where his wife was waiting.
A second later, the gangplank rose. A few seconds after that, the thrusters came online, and the Falcon started to lift from its landing pad.
"What did you give to Lucy?" Leia wanted to know.
"A blaster," Han replied.
"Oh," she said.
Han looked at her. "I didn't think you'd approve," he said.
Leia kept her eyes on the ship just beginning to lift off. "What makes you think I wouldn't?"
It was a testimony to the seriousness of the situation that she didn't mind. Han decided to come clean. "I also gave Poul a knife."
Leia nodded. The Falcon moved forward, gathering speed, and in a few seconds, was out of sight.
"Good," she said.
Han Solo had once been captain of the fastest freighter ever to grace the stars. He had been a smuggler and an outlaw. He had even been a general in the Alliance fleet and the Commander for the Corellian Defense Force. But the job that had lasted the longest over the years was that of husband/father/family man, and right now he was concerned with living up to the duties which that job title conferred on him.
He made his way to Leia's private study, nodded briefly to Wedge Antilles, who was standing guard outside the door, and without any announcement entered the private chamber. Wedge had been one of Luke's closest friends, but that had been over fifteen standard years ago. Regardless of that, Han trusted Wedge implicitly. The man was Corellian, like Han, and Corellians might fight like school children among themselves, but they never, ever betrayed one another to outsiders. It just wasn't done.
Leia looked up from her desk. Her face was drawn and tired. She looked over at the security 'droid when she saw Han and asked, "Clear?"
The floating sphere answered in the affirmative. It detected no electronic activity that indicated someone might be monitoring the room. Leia had the room swept twice daily anyway, just in case, per Wedge's suggestion. So far she hadn't found anything in here, but these days it paid to be cautious.
"Critton's gone," Han said gruffly. "Disappeared. Just like the others."
"I know," his wife replied in a strained voice.
"Did you know that Critton's wife and daughter were killed when they took him?"
She looked at him sharply, and Han realized that she hadn't known that. She stood up and held her hands out to him. "Oh, Han—"
He went to her, held her, comforted her. She was getting older now. Streaks of gray had lined her otherwise dark hair. But she was still strong. Still fighting, despite the odds, for what she believed in. She would never give up.
"You know what this means?" he whispered.
She nodded. "The children."
"They're in danger now, Leia." He moved slightly away so he could look at her. As I see it, we have two choices. One: you can withdraw from the Senate."
"No. This Constitution is too important. I'm the only one left now to argue for it."
"You can't argue for it if you're dead."
"It's my life's work. I can't abandon it."
"I'm not suggesting you stop your work. We can go away, all of us—you, me, Chewie, the kids, even Wedge—and you can do your fighting from the back door, organize an underground movement—"
"I've been through that before, Han. I can't wait for the roots of a new Empire to take hold and for people to start realizing what's happened before I act. Besides, I'm getting too old for that sort of thing."
Han nodded, having known what her answer would be even before he had asked. "Well, then, that leaves our second choice. Two:"
"Two—" Leia finished, "you and the children could go away."
"No," Han countered. "Just the children. With Chewie to look after them."
"Please, Han, I want you to—"
He hushed her by pressing his fingers to her lips. "We've been through a lot together, Leia. You're not going to get rid of me so easily."
Leia looked at her husband with eyes full of love. Vanity had prompted him to dye the signs of age out of his hair, so it was impossible to say just how much of his original color he retained, but the lines on his face were a little deeper, his jowls a little heavier then when they had first met. Nevertheless, she loved him as much as ever—more, in fact, because their years of marriage had developed a closeness that could only come with time.
"So where do we send them?" Han asked.
The answer didn't require any thought. "We send them to Luke."
"Are you sure that's the best place for them?"
"He'll take good care of them. After all, he is still a Jedi Knight."
"I don't know. I never put as much stock in that religion as you have, and besides, Luke renounced the Jedi faith long ago."
"He hasn't renounced it."
"What else do you call it? He doesn't see anyone, doesn't visit anyone, doesn't—"
"He is still a Jedi Knight."
"Like that counts for anything. The only one left is Wedge."
"None of the others had Luke’s capabilities. Including Wedge."
"Yeah, whatever." He didn't much care where they sent the kids, as long as it was away from here. "If you want to send them to Luke, that's fine by me. Maybe we should send Threepio with a message, let him know they're coming. Damn 'droid belongs to him, anyway."
"I sent Threepio as soon as I heard about Critton," Leia replied, "even though I didn't know about Critton's wife and daughter."
Han crossed his arms over his chest. "You know, Leia, just once it would be nice to actually have a say in some of the decisions that are made around here."
Leia smiled. "You do have a say. But it was a foregone conclusion that we'd send the kids away, and there's no one else I trust. I did tell Luke that I hoped you would be with them, but I doubted you would be. If you convinced me to send the kids somewhere else, I'd send another message to cancel Threepio's."
Han sighed, and his annoyance left with the breath he expelled. He hated when she did that. But at the moment, it didn't much matter. There were other things to worry about.
He wished he had Leia's confidence in the abilities of the Jedi Knights in general, and in Luke in particular. It didn't matter how powerful the Jedi were supposed to be, it just wasn't enough. Look at what happened to the rest of them. Most of them were probably dead. They were all missing, at least. Wedge Antilles was the only one left, and he said the others were dead, if you could count on that Force-thing as accurate. The others had been sent to guard the other senators, the most prominent targets, and had disappeared along with the people they were supposed to protect. Wedge had chosen to stick next to Leia, which was probably why Leia hadn't disappeared yet. Wedge was the best, but he wasn't infallible. The others had been strong, too, but they hadn't been strong enough to prevent the kidnappings.
"Don't worry," Han said softly, as much to himself as to Leia. "Chewie will take good care of the kids, even if Luke doesn't want 'em. I'll make sure there's enough diapers and baby formula in stock."
Leia smiled. It was a private joke between them. None of their three offspring had been in diapers or baby formula for more years than either of them cared to count. Lucy was already a sophomore at the Academy, and she was almost a year younger than Rupert. Even the youngest, Poul, only had a couple years left before he entered adolescence. Referring to them as 'children' or 'kids' or 'babies' served to make them feel a little less old, a little less 'over the hill.'
But even the two older ones needed someone to watch over them at times. They weren't quite grown up yet. They still had the impulsiveness and recklessness of youth. If left on their own, they'd probably want to stay behind and defend their parents—which, of course, was out of the question.
Also, somebody responsible would have to look after Poul and make sure he stayed out of trouble. Han wasn't sure Lucienne and Rupert were the best people for that, the two of them getting into so many scrapes themselves.
Therefore, Chewbacca would have to act as chaperone for the troupe.
Suddenly there was a commotion in the hall. Han had already unholstered his blaster and was on the point of shoving Leia under the desk when loud Wookiee growls, punctuated by familiar-sounding human shouts and muffled arguments came to them through the door. Han relaxed and put his blaster back. He gave Leia a smile that said this was the last time things would ever be this normal, and waited.
The door to the study was kicked open by a large hairy foot.
Han shook his head. "I keep tellin' ya Chewie, you're gonna break it that way."
Chewbacca ignored the comment and hauled his dual burden into the room with a gentleness that was apparent only in the fact that his charges didn't have broken necks. In each hairy paw he held one of Han and Leia's older children. He gave them a light shove that sent them staggering towards their parents. The mortu, Rupert's constant companion, was right behind them, and padded over to its cushion, too used to the Wookiee to consider it a threat. Poul followed Wookiee, humans, and mortu into the room with a high-pitched, "Now you're gonna get it!"
Wedge appeared behind the entire group, and discreetly closed the door from the other side.
"Okay, Chewie, what's going on?" Han asked.
"Tell 'em, Unca' Chewie!" Poul piped, coming out from behind the Wookiee's legs.
Han shot his youngest what he hoped was an appropriately withering look. "I wasn't talking to you."
The gaze had its desired effect. The boy sunk into a silence which, Han knew from experience, was only temporary.
The Wookiee relayed the story in a series of barks, hoots, and growls that only a few people could understand. Han was one of those people. Leia was now, too, having had nearly two decades to practice. The children, of course, understood the Wookiee tongue as if they had been raised in it—which was essentially true. Chewbacca spent nearly as much time in the Solo household as he did on his homeworld, and with the recent disappearances of the senators, had returned for another extended visit.
As Han listened to the tale, he grew angry with Rupert and Lucienne, but he couldn't really blame them. Being cooped up and confined in the home at their age was difficult. He couldn't really expect them to enjoy being confined to the house, but damn it, didn't they realize the risks they were taking? How dare they sneak off like that! They could have been killed.
Furthermore, the Wookiee related, Rupert and Lucy had been irresponsible enough to take Poul with them. Here Han wondered whether Chewbacca wasn't prejudicing the story in Poul's favor. The big lug always tended to champion the underdog, which to a Wookiee was usually the smallest being around. Around here, the smallest was Poul. Probably what had happened was that Poul, seeing Lucy and Rupert leave, had decided to follow them on his own without their even knowing about it.
Sometimes, Han reflected, Chewbacca was just as much of a child as Poul.
When the Wookiee finished, Leia looked from one older child to the other. "Whose idea was this?" she asked angrily.
Of course Lucy had thought of it. Of course Rupert would take all the blame. And of course, Lucy would let him. Han wondered if Leia would ever catch on.
"It was my idea," Rupert said, hanging his head. "Lucy came after me to try to stop me. I didn't know Poul had tagged along, too."
"And just where did you think you were going?" Leia demanded.
Rupert shrugged. "For a walk."
"Knowing full well that it was strictly forbidden, and taking your sister and brother with you?"
"Like I said, I didn't know Poul would tag along."
"Is that right, Poul?" Leia asked.
"I didn't do nothin'!" Poul declared.
The kid would go far, Han decided, even if he were a rotten liar. But there was nothing to be done for it now, except hope that Rupert and Lucy would learn from their mistakes. "Let it go, Leia. There are more important things right now."
Leia nodded, but Han could still see the anger and fear in her face. These were her children. She didn't want them hurt or injured, and their stupid behavior could possibly have cost them their lives.
"Aren't you going to punish him?" Poul demanded.
"Not this time," Han answered.
"Why not?" he asked petulantly.
"Because," Leia said, stepping forward and taking him by the arm to lead him back to his room. "We haven't got time. And besides, if we punished Rupert and Lucy, we'd have to punish you, too, for following, and we haven't got time for that, either. So count yourself lucky. Now go to your room for a few minutes. I have to send a message, and then I'll be right up. You're going on a trip, so you have to decide what to pack."
Instantly Rupert and Lucy straightened up, and exchanged glances. That's when Han realized that they really did understand the seriousness of the situation and knew that it was time to be adults. This was not play any more; this was the real thing.
"A trip!" Poul exclaimed. "Where we goin'?"
Rupert waited until his mother and little brother had left the room. "Something's happened," he said, concerned. "What is it, Dad?"
"Critton's disappeared, and his family's been killed."
Rupert started, and looked over at his sister.
She was staring at her father. "His family killed?"
"Yes." So Lucy had known about Critton, but not his family. That was probably why she had left. Critton was a good friend of the family's. He had promised Lucy a political internship when she completed her next year at the Academy. His daughter was about Lucy's age, and they had been fairly good friends.
Rupert said, "So we're going away?"
"Well, you kids are, anyway."
"Where?"
"The most desolate, miserable hunk of space-rock in the galaxy. Sorry, but that's the place your mother chose."
Rupert took a deep breath. "Dad, let me stay. You know how good I am with a blaster."
"I know you're good, Son. That's why I need you to go with Lucy and Poul."
"Dad—" Rupert lowered his voice so that only Han could hear. "Dad, Lucy and Poul can manage without me. I'd rather stay here. I can't leave Mom unprotected."
Han spoke in a return whisper. "Believe me, Rue, I know how you feel. But I can't have you weirding out on me just at a critical moment. You'll do a lot more good with Lucy and Poul. You've never weirded out while spacing, and it's going to be a long trip."
Rupert pressed his lips together, then nodded understanding. As much as he wanted to stay, he couldn't risk having another episode and being more of a burden than a help.
Chewbacca, his sensitive Wookiee ears picking up their low conversation, growled an interrogative.
"Yeah, Pal." Han replied. "I want you to go with them. Keep your god-children out of trouble, will you?" To Rupert he said, "Don't worry. Everything will be fine here."
.
.
.
Rupert sat on the bed, watching his sister stuff the travel case beyond what it was made to hold, and scratching the mortu on the head between its curled horns. Lucy wasn't particularly neat about her work, and she wasn't particularly choosy about it, either. She stopped long enough to glare at Rupert when a sudden thought struck her, and glanced at where the animal lay on the floor under the bed where Rupert was sitting, head stretched up to meet Rupert's hand and hooves sticking out towards her. "You're not bringing that damn mortu along, are you?"
"As a matter of fact," Rupert said, "I am."
"Dad's not going to let you."
"He already said I could."
"Figures," Lucienne muttered, then went back to flinging things indiscriminately into the case.
"You're gonna need anti-grav caddies to carry that thing," Rupert observed.
"None of your business," Lucy said.
He went back to watching her in silence. He knew what was eating her. Lucy had been looking forward to attending the Academy next semester. Critton was gone, her friend Kara, Critton's daughter, was dead, and their own parents were the next logical target.
Rupert shared her worry over their parents, and if he didn't feel the affection for Critton and his family that Lucy did, he at least understood it. He suddenly felt lonely, and as if in response to his thoughts, the mortu, whom he had given no name and whom everyone referred to as "the mortu" or as "the damn mortu", crawled out from under the bed and sat next to Rupert, laying its head on Rupert's lap. It was a shaggy beast, with tan-brown fur and two rows of straight, sharp teeth used primarily for cropping plants. The animals were vegetarian by nature, but they made good watch-animals and were easily housebroken. Though they were common enough as pets, Rupert had developed a special affection for this particular beast, and he and the mortu were seldom if ever seen apart. They had been constant companions ever since Rupert had been about the age that Poul was now.
Lucy turned with another armload of stuff and almost stumbled over the animal. "It's not enough I have to put up with that smelly, flea-ridden beast on the ship, do I have to trip over him in my own room, too?"
Rupert made a motion with his hand, and the mortu got to its feet and left the room.
"Thank you," Lucy said. She grabbed a handful of jewelry and threw it on top of the clothes.
"I don't think we're gonna attend many social functions," Rupert pointed out.
"For your information, that's for emergency purposes. It's an untraceable source of currency."
"Untraceable, except for insurance forms, and guild marks, and public photographs of you wearing the stuff—"
"—and when you melt them down, all of that disappears."
"Oh." Rupert said contritely. "But won't you miss some of that junk?"
"Like I said, it's for emergency purposes only. Besides, Deities know when we'll be back here again."
"Well," Rupert replied, rising, "you obviously don't need my help. I'll go check on Poul."
"Why don't you?"
.
.
.
Lucienne was the last of Leia and Han's three offspring to reach the private docking bay at the first sub-level of the Organa-Solo estate. She had to carry her huge travel case, which was bulging, on anti-grav lifts. Han sighed. Maybe it was a female thing. Rupert had made do with a small satchel, and Poul's stuff was already onboard. Except, Rupert had also loaded sacks and sacks of mortu food, and Poul had long ago stowed every three-dee game and war toy that had ever been made. So maybe it all averaged out in the end. Han let Leia and the service 'droid deal with Lucy's luggage, and went to Rupert.
Rupert was talking with Wedge as Han approached. Wedge saw Han coming, said something that Rupert nodded a response to, then himself nodded to Han and moved away politely.
"What did Wedge want?" Han asked.
"Not much," Rupert said with a shrug, showing Han a paper that had been folded and sealed. "He wanted me to give this to the man you're sending us to."
Han supposed he couldn't fault Wedge for wanting to send a message to his former teacher.
"So…where are we going?" Rupert asked.
"Chewie's got the coordinates. When you get where you're going, fly low. Ta—your destination world never spent much on its air-traffic equipment—they don't get that much to begin with. No reason to. You'll see why when you get there. They may or may not spot you coming down, but if you stay low, they won't know where you've landed."
"Okay," Rupert said. "Anything else?"
"Yeah. I'm depending on you to look after your brother and sister. Don't weird-out on me."
"Don't worry, Dad. I've never had a problem in space."
"Yeah, I know. That's what I'm counting on. Okay." He gave Rupert an embrace which was returned. "There's one more thing," Han said. Rupert was already wearing the blaster that Han had given him, identical to the one Han was wearing, and looked a lot like Han had looked in his younger days. The only thing missing from the outfit was the Corellian blood-stripe. But there was something else Han wanted Rupert to have. "Chewie won't be flying in the co-pilot seat just to give you practice flying. From now on, he is your co-pilot."
"What do you mean?" Rupert asked.
Han lifted his fist and opened it to show Rupert the insignia pins he'd once had made, and pinned them to Rupert's collar.
"The Falcon's yours, Son. Her registry's in your name now, and she's programmed so that she'll respond to you as Captain. Now, if you do weird-out, I've installed a transfer switch at the co-pilot station that Chewie can punch to gain control. But he won't do it unless you're incapacitated. Otherwise, if you ram her into a star, he won't stop you."
Rupert was silent for a moment, a little awed at this pronouncement. Then he said, "I'll give her back to you in one piece, Dad."
"No," Han said. "She's yours. Forever. Unless you wreck her."
Rupert grinned. "I won't wreck her."
"See that you don't. She doesn't look like much on the outside, but she's got it where it counts. Saved my life more times than I can remember."
Lucy had finished giving the service 'droid directions on how to unpack her things, and was busy trying to talk Leia into changing her mind about not going.
Han nodded to Rupert, and said, "Say goodbye to your mother." Then he took Lucienne's arm and drew her away from Leia so that Lucy's back was to Leia and Poul, and her body acted as a shield to hide what he was about to do. "Loose," he said, using his special nickname for her, "I want you to do something."
"What?"
Han pulled out a blaster and holster from under his jacket, a smaller version of the twins he and Rupert wore. "I want you to take this, and wear it at all times. But keep it hidden. Tell Rupert and Chewie you've got it, but not Poul. It ain't a toy."
"I'm not as good with that as Rupert."
"I know. But Rupert and Chewie are carrying their weapons openly. That means any hostile eyes are gonna be on them, not you. That might give you a little extra advantage."
Lucy took the weapon and folded it inside her skirt. "Mom know about this?"
"What she doesn't know, she can't forbid," Han replied.
Lucy looked up at him with eyes that reminded Han of her mother. She was so much like Leia. Headstrong, refreshingly rude most of the time, sickeningly polite the rest of the time.
It was scary.
The thruster valves began hissing, indicating that the ship was just about ready to lift off. Rupert had already trotted up the gangplank to help Chewie finish the pre-flight. Han kissed Lucy on the cheek and gave her a shove in the direction of the gangplank. The longer the kids stayed here on the ground, the greater danger they were in.
Poul was the only one left to deal with. Apparently, from the argument Han was overhearing, Poul had refused to pack, and Leia had done the boy's packing for him.
"I don't want to go," Poul said. From Leia's expression, Han gathered that this was not a new utterance. "And I'm not going!"
"You are going," Leia said firmly, then looked at her ultimate resource in situations like this. "Han—?"
Han took the boy by the hand and pulled his small unwilling body up the gangplank. Once inside the ship, he knelt down to the boy's level. "Poul, listen to me," he said. "Everybody thinks that because you're just a kid, you can't do much except get in the way. But I know that's not true." Han rolled up his pants leg and unstrapped the sheathe that held a crystaline knife. With no electronics and no metal, the crystaline blade didn't show up on most weapons scanners, which was why Han had paid top dollar for it. "You take this," he said, "and you wear it on your leg, like that. In an emergency, it might come in handy. It's sharp, so it's only for emergency use. Got that? You're not to be playing with it, understand?"
The boy nodded, somewhat in awe of owning a real weapon.
"Okay," Han said. "Now, if Rupert sees it, he's liable to take it away from you, so keep it out of sight. He is captain of the ship, and he's the oldest, so whatever he says is law. If he wants to take it away from you, then he can. If he sees it, he just might. Zneeka?"
Zneeka was the Reeban word for "Do you comprehend the implications of what I am saying?" It had become a common word in the Organa-Solo household after the visit of a Reeban ambassador, although the original use of it had been more or less in making fun of the ambassador—after he had left, of course.
Poul nodded, still awed.
Han fastened the knife sheathe to Poul's leg—it was more than a little loose on the boy—pulled the pants leg back down, and clapped him on the shoulder. Then he yelled for Lucy to come get her brother and make sure he was strapped in, and when Lucy appeared, remanded his charge to her, hit the delay button on the gangplank, and went back down to where his wife was waiting.
A second later, the gangplank rose. A few seconds after that, the thrusters came online, and the Falcon started to lift from its landing pad.
"What did you give to Lucy?" Leia wanted to know.
"A blaster," Han replied.
"Oh," she said.
Han looked at her. "I didn't think you'd approve," he said.
Leia kept her eyes on the ship just beginning to lift off. "What makes you think I wouldn't?"
It was a testimony to the seriousness of the situation that she didn't mind. Han decided to come clean. "I also gave Poul a knife."
Leia nodded. The Falcon moved forward, gathering speed, and in a few seconds, was out of sight.
"Good," she said.
-----
Chapter Two
Ben Owens entered the garage feeling old and worn out. He was dressed in desert robes, and a silver-gray beard protruded from the hood. He might have been mistaken for a hermit, except that he did not live alone. "Brenna—" he said.
His daughter rolled out from beneath the speeder and gave him a grease-smudged grin. "Hi, Dad." A few strands of blond hair strayed from under the work cap she wore and framed her face with a golden halo. A false halo, Owens knew.
"Brenna, come inside. I want to talk with you."
The grin faded as she took in her father's expression. She rose to her feet and followed him inside.
"Sit down."
Brenna sat.
"I went to Anchorhead today," Owens began, pushing the hood back from his head to reveal tired sky-blue eyes. "I wanted to pick up the thermo-coupler for your project in there. On the way home, I passed by Beggar's Canyon."
The daughter suddenly looked as tired as the father.
Owens shook his head. "Do you have any idea how dangerous a stunt like that is?"
"I'm a good pilot, Dad."
"Good pilots do not take unnecessary risks. Good pilots especially do not go joy-riding down Beggar's Canyon at full throttle. You could have been killed."
"It wasn't that much of a risk," Brenna argued.
"Brenna...that canyon's taken more lives than I care to recount."
"I know Beggar's Canyon like the back of my hand. I've been through it a zillion times before. I know every rock and windstream in it, and I can handle a skyhopper better than anybody."
"Bren—" Owens ran his fingers through his silver-gray hair in frustration. "How can I explain it to you? Collecting pilots' insignias is not worth risking your life."
"It wasn't that dangerous. I was using the Force—"
"The Force—" Owens interrupted "—is a figment of your imagination. It doesn't exist. I wish you'd stop thinking about it."
"You don't understand, because you don’t feel it."
"Brenna—" He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, but she pulled away. "Brenna, I do understand. More than you realize. But until the day comes when you understand just how dangerous these stunts of yours are, I'm suspending your transport privileges."
"You're grounding me? But Dad—"
"I'm sorry, Bren. I know how much the skyhopper means to you, but I just can't see any other way. Now give me the key."
Brenna stood up angrily and reached into her pocket and threw the code-card onto the table. "You may be able to take the skyhopper from me, but there's one thing you can't take away. I feel the Force, Dad. Someday I'm going to learn how to use it!"
Her father shook his head. "The Jedi Knights are a myth. The sooner you accept that, the—"
"They are not a myth!" Brenna insisted, her eyes brimming with tears. "They're real. I know they are. And someday...someday..."
Owens shook his head again, patiently. "You need to get your head out of the clouds, and put your feet on the ground. You've got final exams coming up in school. That's what you should be concentrating on."
"Do you think I give a womprat's carcass about school? What I want is to get off this Force-forsaken dustball and find someone who can train me, and learn what I was born to learn!" Brenna slammed the table to accent her words, and the vase with the water-flower from Kalmyr tipped and spilled. Most of the water ended up on Owens' lap. The delicate plant, one of the few luxuries Owens allowed himself on his desert farm, wilted almost immediately.
Owens kept his voice level. It was one of his daughter's greatest annoyances that he was always the same, that he never got angry, never seemed especially happy or unhappy, never varied in his show of emotions any more than between a smile and a frown...except for those few times when he was having one of his attacks. "Brenna, go to your room," he said quietly. "Stay there until you calm down and decide to act like an adult."
Brenna let out an exasperated "Oooooh!" and turned on her heel and left. When she was gone, Owens looked at the dying water-flower, and then with slow deliberation, picked it up, returned it to its vase, refilled the vase with water, and put it back on the table. Then he reached for a towel to clean up the mess on the table, and on himself. He wasn't angry—much. Brenna was still young, and had so much yet to learn. She was his responsibility, and if she was lacking in self-control, he had only himself to blame. But she had very nearly been killed today. And there was still the possibility, however remote, that the fear she had given off from that experience could act as a homing beacon for old enemies who would like nothing more than to destroy him, through her. Brenna did not know about that, not yet. Someday, he would have to tell her. Someday soon. But not today.
But for the moment, he had distance on his side. If he could just keep her from doing any more stupid stunts like the one she had pulled today, maybe she would survive this yet.
.
.
.
Brenna slammed her door shut just to let her father know how angry she was. That was about all she could do. She knew how useless it was to argue with him, especially on the subject of Jedi Knights, so she flung herself on her bed and squeezed her pillow tightly in frustration. Then she picked up her pillow and flung it against the wall. As she fell back down to the bed again, something bumped her head, and she turned to see the doll she had outgrown playing with years before, but didn't really have the will to throw away.
Brenna picked up the doll and moved it to the side. It wasn't really her father's fault that he didn't understand, she decided. If you couldn't feel the Force, it was hard to believe in it. Still, she did feel it, and someday she would learn how to use it properly. In the meantime, she asked herself what a Jedi Knight would do if he were stuck in an inescapable prison—like her bedroom.
Brenna looked back at the doll, glanced at the door, then smiled a little. A Jedi would practice, she decided, and drew in a calming breath. Beggar's Canyon had been an accident. Everything had been going fine until that stabilizer came loose, and a momentary panic had set in. Fortunately, she was able to regain her wits, correct the problem, and finish the run without further incident, and now she had another pilot's insignia to show for it—and it had not occurred to her father to take it away from her. Brenna took it out of her pocket now, put her doll in a sitting position facing her, and whispered, "Watch this."
Brenna's brows furrowed in concentration. After a moment, the pilot's insignia rose, then began a wobbly floatation to the other side of the room and dropped into a dish that held a collection of other insignias.
Child's play, she decided, and then sighed as she realized that was exactly what it was. Someday, she thought. Someday...
.
.
.
In his own room, Ben Owens took off his robe, then reached inside his tunic and pulled from around his neck a small crystalline cube attached to a chain. It was the only decoration he wore, and he kept it hidden. If it were ever discovered, it would pass as a souvenir kept by an eccentric desert-worlder who dreamed of another life. The scene inside the holo-cube was a miniature land/sea-scape, with gentle waves frozen in mid-motion as they headed towards the shore and tiny sea-birds, no more than specks, really, hanging motionless in the sky. The cube could have been a souvenir from any of a thousand worlds that had an abundance of water. Owens knew, though, that this particular scene was of a certain inlet on Kalmyr, of the place that had been his wife's favorite hide-away, where she would have liked to have been buried, if there had been anything to bury.
But this cube was unique in more than just its scene. It had been a gift from one of his students, a brilliant light engineer, and it was the only one of its kind. Not even Brenna knew its secrets. Owens touched the sides of the cube in a patterned sequence, and the tiny waves became animated. The birds circled or flew to the edge of the scene and faded out, only to be replaced by more birds that faded in from other sides. Owens touched another sequence, and the inlet dissolved to the head and face of a dark-haired, dark-eyed smiling young woman, with slightly exotic features, who seemed radiant even in such a tiny likeness. She was younger than Owens now was and older than Brenna now was, but would remain forever ageless in a lifeless image.
Owens smiled a little, but the smile was tinged with sadness. He shook his head and spoke softly, more to himself than to the silent image. "I felt her today, Brie. Just once, briefly, when she was in trouble. I'd almost forgotten what her presence was like. It won't be long now before she stops using the Force altogether. I know it's for the best, but...I miss her. About as much as I miss you. I wish there was another way I could keep her safe. And I wish you were here with me..."
Ben Owens had no idea that his daughter, a mere room away, was at that moment levitating pilot's insignias with a control that even Luke Skywalker would not have thought possible of an untrained Force adept...
Ben Owens entered the garage feeling old and worn out. He was dressed in desert robes, and a silver-gray beard protruded from the hood. He might have been mistaken for a hermit, except that he did not live alone. "Brenna—" he said.
His daughter rolled out from beneath the speeder and gave him a grease-smudged grin. "Hi, Dad." A few strands of blond hair strayed from under the work cap she wore and framed her face with a golden halo. A false halo, Owens knew.
"Brenna, come inside. I want to talk with you."
The grin faded as she took in her father's expression. She rose to her feet and followed him inside.
"Sit down."
Brenna sat.
"I went to Anchorhead today," Owens began, pushing the hood back from his head to reveal tired sky-blue eyes. "I wanted to pick up the thermo-coupler for your project in there. On the way home, I passed by Beggar's Canyon."
The daughter suddenly looked as tired as the father.
Owens shook his head. "Do you have any idea how dangerous a stunt like that is?"
"I'm a good pilot, Dad."
"Good pilots do not take unnecessary risks. Good pilots especially do not go joy-riding down Beggar's Canyon at full throttle. You could have been killed."
"It wasn't that much of a risk," Brenna argued.
"Brenna...that canyon's taken more lives than I care to recount."
"I know Beggar's Canyon like the back of my hand. I've been through it a zillion times before. I know every rock and windstream in it, and I can handle a skyhopper better than anybody."
"Bren—" Owens ran his fingers through his silver-gray hair in frustration. "How can I explain it to you? Collecting pilots' insignias is not worth risking your life."
"It wasn't that dangerous. I was using the Force—"
"The Force—" Owens interrupted "—is a figment of your imagination. It doesn't exist. I wish you'd stop thinking about it."
"You don't understand, because you don’t feel it."
"Brenna—" He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, but she pulled away. "Brenna, I do understand. More than you realize. But until the day comes when you understand just how dangerous these stunts of yours are, I'm suspending your transport privileges."
"You're grounding me? But Dad—"
"I'm sorry, Bren. I know how much the skyhopper means to you, but I just can't see any other way. Now give me the key."
Brenna stood up angrily and reached into her pocket and threw the code-card onto the table. "You may be able to take the skyhopper from me, but there's one thing you can't take away. I feel the Force, Dad. Someday I'm going to learn how to use it!"
Her father shook his head. "The Jedi Knights are a myth. The sooner you accept that, the—"
"They are not a myth!" Brenna insisted, her eyes brimming with tears. "They're real. I know they are. And someday...someday..."
Owens shook his head again, patiently. "You need to get your head out of the clouds, and put your feet on the ground. You've got final exams coming up in school. That's what you should be concentrating on."
"Do you think I give a womprat's carcass about school? What I want is to get off this Force-forsaken dustball and find someone who can train me, and learn what I was born to learn!" Brenna slammed the table to accent her words, and the vase with the water-flower from Kalmyr tipped and spilled. Most of the water ended up on Owens' lap. The delicate plant, one of the few luxuries Owens allowed himself on his desert farm, wilted almost immediately.
Owens kept his voice level. It was one of his daughter's greatest annoyances that he was always the same, that he never got angry, never seemed especially happy or unhappy, never varied in his show of emotions any more than between a smile and a frown...except for those few times when he was having one of his attacks. "Brenna, go to your room," he said quietly. "Stay there until you calm down and decide to act like an adult."
Brenna let out an exasperated "Oooooh!" and turned on her heel and left. When she was gone, Owens looked at the dying water-flower, and then with slow deliberation, picked it up, returned it to its vase, refilled the vase with water, and put it back on the table. Then he reached for a towel to clean up the mess on the table, and on himself. He wasn't angry—much. Brenna was still young, and had so much yet to learn. She was his responsibility, and if she was lacking in self-control, he had only himself to blame. But she had very nearly been killed today. And there was still the possibility, however remote, that the fear she had given off from that experience could act as a homing beacon for old enemies who would like nothing more than to destroy him, through her. Brenna did not know about that, not yet. Someday, he would have to tell her. Someday soon. But not today.
But for the moment, he had distance on his side. If he could just keep her from doing any more stupid stunts like the one she had pulled today, maybe she would survive this yet.
.
.
.
Brenna slammed her door shut just to let her father know how angry she was. That was about all she could do. She knew how useless it was to argue with him, especially on the subject of Jedi Knights, so she flung herself on her bed and squeezed her pillow tightly in frustration. Then she picked up her pillow and flung it against the wall. As she fell back down to the bed again, something bumped her head, and she turned to see the doll she had outgrown playing with years before, but didn't really have the will to throw away.
Brenna picked up the doll and moved it to the side. It wasn't really her father's fault that he didn't understand, she decided. If you couldn't feel the Force, it was hard to believe in it. Still, she did feel it, and someday she would learn how to use it properly. In the meantime, she asked herself what a Jedi Knight would do if he were stuck in an inescapable prison—like her bedroom.
Brenna looked back at the doll, glanced at the door, then smiled a little. A Jedi would practice, she decided, and drew in a calming breath. Beggar's Canyon had been an accident. Everything had been going fine until that stabilizer came loose, and a momentary panic had set in. Fortunately, she was able to regain her wits, correct the problem, and finish the run without further incident, and now she had another pilot's insignia to show for it—and it had not occurred to her father to take it away from her. Brenna took it out of her pocket now, put her doll in a sitting position facing her, and whispered, "Watch this."
Brenna's brows furrowed in concentration. After a moment, the pilot's insignia rose, then began a wobbly floatation to the other side of the room and dropped into a dish that held a collection of other insignias.
Child's play, she decided, and then sighed as she realized that was exactly what it was. Someday, she thought. Someday...
.
.
.
In his own room, Ben Owens took off his robe, then reached inside his tunic and pulled from around his neck a small crystalline cube attached to a chain. It was the only decoration he wore, and he kept it hidden. If it were ever discovered, it would pass as a souvenir kept by an eccentric desert-worlder who dreamed of another life. The scene inside the holo-cube was a miniature land/sea-scape, with gentle waves frozen in mid-motion as they headed towards the shore and tiny sea-birds, no more than specks, really, hanging motionless in the sky. The cube could have been a souvenir from any of a thousand worlds that had an abundance of water. Owens knew, though, that this particular scene was of a certain inlet on Kalmyr, of the place that had been his wife's favorite hide-away, where she would have liked to have been buried, if there had been anything to bury.
But this cube was unique in more than just its scene. It had been a gift from one of his students, a brilliant light engineer, and it was the only one of its kind. Not even Brenna knew its secrets. Owens touched the sides of the cube in a patterned sequence, and the tiny waves became animated. The birds circled or flew to the edge of the scene and faded out, only to be replaced by more birds that faded in from other sides. Owens touched another sequence, and the inlet dissolved to the head and face of a dark-haired, dark-eyed smiling young woman, with slightly exotic features, who seemed radiant even in such a tiny likeness. She was younger than Owens now was and older than Brenna now was, but would remain forever ageless in a lifeless image.
Owens smiled a little, but the smile was tinged with sadness. He shook his head and spoke softly, more to himself than to the silent image. "I felt her today, Brie. Just once, briefly, when she was in trouble. I'd almost forgotten what her presence was like. It won't be long now before she stops using the Force altogether. I know it's for the best, but...I miss her. About as much as I miss you. I wish there was another way I could keep her safe. And I wish you were here with me..."
Ben Owens had no idea that his daughter, a mere room away, was at that moment levitating pilot's insignias with a control that even Luke Skywalker would not have thought possible of an untrained Force adept...
-----
Chapter Three
Han, Leia, and Wedge were just sitting down to dinner when they heard the explosion. It seemed to come from the north end of their complex. Han stood up and drew his blaster in the same motion, then gestured for Wedge to stay with Leia. "Security, what was that?" Han asked the floating 'droid which appeared from the next room.
"Perimeter breach in sector two," the 'droid replied. Sector two was the docking port. "I have already notified the local authorities. Assistance should arrive in an estimated time of twelve minutes."
Han nodded. All he had to do was keep Leia safe for twelve minutes. "Security, close the blast doors between sectors two and three, and sectors three and four."
"Acknowledged," the security 'droid reported. "Blast doors between sectors two and three, and sectors three and four are closing."
Han spoke over the 'droid's response. "Wedge, take Leia to the basement while I check it out. The vault's the safest place. Stay with her, and shoot anybody that comes near you." Then he added, as an afterthought, "Except me." The basement was reinforced with plasticrete and shielded to boot. It would take a lot of firepower to get through that, and they'd have to know where to find her first. The security system was programmed to give false life-form readings at various locations within the residence.
Wedge nodded and motioned for Leia.
"Han—" Leia said.
"Don't worry," her husband assured her. "I'll join you in a couple minutes. I just want to find out how many of 'em there are and what kind of weapons they're carrying. Security, you're with me."
The little spherical 'droid floated beside Han dutifully. Leia didn't argue any further but went with Wedge towards the cellar.
"Can you get me a visual on the docking port?" Han asked, trotting towards the docking port.
"Negative," the 'droid replied. "All video systems in sector two are inoperative. Unknown cause."
"Do you have a count on the number of intruders?"
"Negative. All systems malfunctioning in sector two."
"Do you have any other security breaches?"
"Negative. Sector two is the only sector off-line. All other sectors report normal."
"Good. Have they breached the blast-doors to sector three yet?" Han had been keeping the blast doors between the docking port and the main complex closed since the kids left. They wouldn't be using the docking port, and it was one more barrier between Leia and the outside world.
"Negative. Intruders appear to be contained in sector two."
Maybe Han was due for a break. Maybe they weren't expecting this level of security. Twelve minutes—no, eleven and a half minutes now, and they'd be home free. He entered the library, sector five in the security 'droid's lingo, and saw that the blast door between the library and the family room was still open. "What—close the blast door between sectors four and five!" He thought he'd given that order once already.
The security 'droid hummed unconcerned. "Blast doors between sectors four and five are closed.
"No, they're not! Look at them! They're wide open! Close the goddam blast-doors!"
Slowly, the doors slid down. Han ducked under them into sector four, the family room. He wondered what was wrong with the 'droid. The thing must have a malfunction in it somewhere. The last thing he wanted right now was a malfunctioning security 'droid.
"Blast doors between sectors four and five confirmed closed."
Han looked behind him, at the doors that had just closed, then ahead at the ones between the family room and the game room. "Status of sector three?"
"Sector Three secure," the 'droid replied.
"Open the blast doors between sectors three and four!"
"Acknowledged. Opening blast doors between sectors three and four."
Nothing happened.
Han ignored the security 'droid and went to the manual controls. The control panel was keyed so that if the wrong code were entered more than two times in a row, it would lock out. Trying to by-pass the number pad or hot-wire it would also lock it out. But the number pad was also programmed to reset after five minutes if no additional attempts were made to get past it. Han had put that in just in case one of the kids had accidentally locked themselves out.
He punched in the code, and the blast doors between the game room and the gym slowly slid open. As soon as they were open enough to duck through, he was under them and running across the gym. The blast doors between the gym and the docking port were closed, thank the Deities. But he was expecting to hear noise from the docking port, sounds of attack. All he heard was silence.
"What the Hell—" he muttered. He put his hands on the blast door. The shielding would reflect most of the energy from a blaster or other weapon, but there should still be a trace of residual heat.
The door was cool to the touch.
Han punched in the code, moved to the wall beside the door with his blaster at the ready, and the door began to rise upwards.
He expected, at the very least, flashes of light from blaster energy to appear under the door as it was opened, but there was nothing.
Then the door was fully open, but there was still nothing. Han risked a peak around the wall. The docking port looked absolutely peaceful.
Suddenly the whole house rumbled and shook with a vibration so intense that it could only have been made by a caliber of energy weapon Han had only seen on the Death Star, or on Imperial Star Destroyers, and the last Star Destroyer had been destroyed before Rupert was born.
"Leia—" Han whispered. He whirled and took off at a dead run towards the basement, but was stopped by the blast-doors between the library and the family room, which he had had the security 'droid close behind him on his way to the docking port.
The hum by his left ear told him that the security 'droid was still with him.
"Open the—never mind!" Han went to the manual control and punched in the code.
Nothing happened.
"Emergency security measures in effect," the 'droid beside him said. "Standard codes temporarily overridden. Local authorities have been notified of emergency situation. Assistance should arrive in approximately twelve minutes."
Twelve minutes again. Not ten or nine, which was what Han had clocked mentally from the previous warning. That's when Han knew that the security 'droid had been compromised, and that there was no help on the way. "Override all emergency measures. Shut down all security systems. Code one-zero-alpha-two-niner."
"Override malfunction," the security 'droid responded.
Without any further hesitation, Han aimed his blaster at the security 'droid and pulled the trigger. But the thing was shielded, and programmed to fight back. Han saw the weapons array start to swivel around towards him and took off running back towards the docking port. His blaster wasn't enough to damage the 'droid, but he knew where there was a weapon powerful enough to do the job.
For once, Han was glad that his kids had a tendency to leave their toys and whatnot out instead of putting them away. As he ran across the gym, he picked up balls and threw them at the 'droid, turned on Rupert's pitching machine, Poul's remote-control toy X-wing, and Lucy's exercise machines. The security 'droid was kept momentarily busy blasting balls and machines, and Han was able to dash to the docking port. He dived and rolled under the belly of his three-seat fighter just as a bolt of energy hit the skin of the ship right behind where he had been.
Fortunately, the canopy was open. Han jumped up onto the footholds, vaulted into the canopy, turned on the switch to charge the guns, and ducked as a bolt of energy whizzed by overhead, barely missing him. Even before they were fully charged, he fired, sweeping the docking port. Without the ship's engines on, the batteries would drain, but he didn't care. He blasted the security 'droid to smithereens and grunted with satisfaction.
But Leia was still in trouble.
Without bothering to power-down the guns, Han jumped out of the fighter and ran back across the gym to the closed blast-doors. The gym, like the docking port, now looked like a war had taken place there. It would cost a pretty-penny to repair the damage, but Han's mind was on Leia.
A blinking light showed Han that the door was in reset mode. "Come on, come on," he muttered. He resisted the temptation to blast the controls, knowing that it would only trap him in this end of the complex, when he wanted to be in the basement.
Finally, the light stopped blinking, and Han punched in the code. The door slid open. Han ducked under it and ran for the basement.
He took the steps two at a time, but even before he reached the bottom, he could see the gaping hole in the plasticrete, still smoldering.
"Leia! Wedge!" he yelled.
There was no answer.
Han went to the vault, the most protected part of the whole house. Leia used it mostly for wine storage, and to keep a few odd important document files. The door was hot to his touch. There was a blaster and a lightsaber, still activated, lying on the floor, but no sign of either Leia or Wedge.
There was something wet on the floor. Han touched his fingertips to it and looked at his hand. Blood. He didn't know whose. Then something white, a chip of something white caught his eye, and he picked it up. Han recognized the substance. It was armor, of the style Imperial storm troopers had once worn, but of its wearer, there was no sign.
Apparently they had picked up their dead or wounded.
Han sunk to his knees. The blaster marks in the plasticrete behind him, revealing the shielded walls beyond, was testimony to the fight Leia and Wedge had put up, which judging by the number of marks had been considerable.
It hadn't been enough, though.
Leia and Wedge were gone.
Han, Leia, and Wedge were just sitting down to dinner when they heard the explosion. It seemed to come from the north end of their complex. Han stood up and drew his blaster in the same motion, then gestured for Wedge to stay with Leia. "Security, what was that?" Han asked the floating 'droid which appeared from the next room.
"Perimeter breach in sector two," the 'droid replied. Sector two was the docking port. "I have already notified the local authorities. Assistance should arrive in an estimated time of twelve minutes."
Han nodded. All he had to do was keep Leia safe for twelve minutes. "Security, close the blast doors between sectors two and three, and sectors three and four."
"Acknowledged," the security 'droid reported. "Blast doors between sectors two and three, and sectors three and four are closing."
Han spoke over the 'droid's response. "Wedge, take Leia to the basement while I check it out. The vault's the safest place. Stay with her, and shoot anybody that comes near you." Then he added, as an afterthought, "Except me." The basement was reinforced with plasticrete and shielded to boot. It would take a lot of firepower to get through that, and they'd have to know where to find her first. The security system was programmed to give false life-form readings at various locations within the residence.
Wedge nodded and motioned for Leia.
"Han—" Leia said.
"Don't worry," her husband assured her. "I'll join you in a couple minutes. I just want to find out how many of 'em there are and what kind of weapons they're carrying. Security, you're with me."
The little spherical 'droid floated beside Han dutifully. Leia didn't argue any further but went with Wedge towards the cellar.
"Can you get me a visual on the docking port?" Han asked, trotting towards the docking port.
"Negative," the 'droid replied. "All video systems in sector two are inoperative. Unknown cause."
"Do you have a count on the number of intruders?"
"Negative. All systems malfunctioning in sector two."
"Do you have any other security breaches?"
"Negative. Sector two is the only sector off-line. All other sectors report normal."
"Good. Have they breached the blast-doors to sector three yet?" Han had been keeping the blast doors between the docking port and the main complex closed since the kids left. They wouldn't be using the docking port, and it was one more barrier between Leia and the outside world.
"Negative. Intruders appear to be contained in sector two."
Maybe Han was due for a break. Maybe they weren't expecting this level of security. Twelve minutes—no, eleven and a half minutes now, and they'd be home free. He entered the library, sector five in the security 'droid's lingo, and saw that the blast door between the library and the family room was still open. "What—close the blast door between sectors four and five!" He thought he'd given that order once already.
The security 'droid hummed unconcerned. "Blast doors between sectors four and five are closed.
"No, they're not! Look at them! They're wide open! Close the goddam blast-doors!"
Slowly, the doors slid down. Han ducked under them into sector four, the family room. He wondered what was wrong with the 'droid. The thing must have a malfunction in it somewhere. The last thing he wanted right now was a malfunctioning security 'droid.
"Blast doors between sectors four and five confirmed closed."
Han looked behind him, at the doors that had just closed, then ahead at the ones between the family room and the game room. "Status of sector three?"
"Sector Three secure," the 'droid replied.
"Open the blast doors between sectors three and four!"
"Acknowledged. Opening blast doors between sectors three and four."
Nothing happened.
Han ignored the security 'droid and went to the manual controls. The control panel was keyed so that if the wrong code were entered more than two times in a row, it would lock out. Trying to by-pass the number pad or hot-wire it would also lock it out. But the number pad was also programmed to reset after five minutes if no additional attempts were made to get past it. Han had put that in just in case one of the kids had accidentally locked themselves out.
He punched in the code, and the blast doors between the game room and the gym slowly slid open. As soon as they were open enough to duck through, he was under them and running across the gym. The blast doors between the gym and the docking port were closed, thank the Deities. But he was expecting to hear noise from the docking port, sounds of attack. All he heard was silence.
"What the Hell—" he muttered. He put his hands on the blast door. The shielding would reflect most of the energy from a blaster or other weapon, but there should still be a trace of residual heat.
The door was cool to the touch.
Han punched in the code, moved to the wall beside the door with his blaster at the ready, and the door began to rise upwards.
He expected, at the very least, flashes of light from blaster energy to appear under the door as it was opened, but there was nothing.
Then the door was fully open, but there was still nothing. Han risked a peak around the wall. The docking port looked absolutely peaceful.
Suddenly the whole house rumbled and shook with a vibration so intense that it could only have been made by a caliber of energy weapon Han had only seen on the Death Star, or on Imperial Star Destroyers, and the last Star Destroyer had been destroyed before Rupert was born.
"Leia—" Han whispered. He whirled and took off at a dead run towards the basement, but was stopped by the blast-doors between the library and the family room, which he had had the security 'droid close behind him on his way to the docking port.
The hum by his left ear told him that the security 'droid was still with him.
"Open the—never mind!" Han went to the manual control and punched in the code.
Nothing happened.
"Emergency security measures in effect," the 'droid beside him said. "Standard codes temporarily overridden. Local authorities have been notified of emergency situation. Assistance should arrive in approximately twelve minutes."
Twelve minutes again. Not ten or nine, which was what Han had clocked mentally from the previous warning. That's when Han knew that the security 'droid had been compromised, and that there was no help on the way. "Override all emergency measures. Shut down all security systems. Code one-zero-alpha-two-niner."
"Override malfunction," the security 'droid responded.
Without any further hesitation, Han aimed his blaster at the security 'droid and pulled the trigger. But the thing was shielded, and programmed to fight back. Han saw the weapons array start to swivel around towards him and took off running back towards the docking port. His blaster wasn't enough to damage the 'droid, but he knew where there was a weapon powerful enough to do the job.
For once, Han was glad that his kids had a tendency to leave their toys and whatnot out instead of putting them away. As he ran across the gym, he picked up balls and threw them at the 'droid, turned on Rupert's pitching machine, Poul's remote-control toy X-wing, and Lucy's exercise machines. The security 'droid was kept momentarily busy blasting balls and machines, and Han was able to dash to the docking port. He dived and rolled under the belly of his three-seat fighter just as a bolt of energy hit the skin of the ship right behind where he had been.
Fortunately, the canopy was open. Han jumped up onto the footholds, vaulted into the canopy, turned on the switch to charge the guns, and ducked as a bolt of energy whizzed by overhead, barely missing him. Even before they were fully charged, he fired, sweeping the docking port. Without the ship's engines on, the batteries would drain, but he didn't care. He blasted the security 'droid to smithereens and grunted with satisfaction.
But Leia was still in trouble.
Without bothering to power-down the guns, Han jumped out of the fighter and ran back across the gym to the closed blast-doors. The gym, like the docking port, now looked like a war had taken place there. It would cost a pretty-penny to repair the damage, but Han's mind was on Leia.
A blinking light showed Han that the door was in reset mode. "Come on, come on," he muttered. He resisted the temptation to blast the controls, knowing that it would only trap him in this end of the complex, when he wanted to be in the basement.
Finally, the light stopped blinking, and Han punched in the code. The door slid open. Han ducked under it and ran for the basement.
He took the steps two at a time, but even before he reached the bottom, he could see the gaping hole in the plasticrete, still smoldering.
"Leia! Wedge!" he yelled.
There was no answer.
Han went to the vault, the most protected part of the whole house. Leia used it mostly for wine storage, and to keep a few odd important document files. The door was hot to his touch. There was a blaster and a lightsaber, still activated, lying on the floor, but no sign of either Leia or Wedge.
There was something wet on the floor. Han touched his fingertips to it and looked at his hand. Blood. He didn't know whose. Then something white, a chip of something white caught his eye, and he picked it up. Han recognized the substance. It was armor, of the style Imperial storm troopers had once worn, but of its wearer, there was no sign.
Apparently they had picked up their dead or wounded.
Han sunk to his knees. The blaster marks in the plasticrete behind him, revealing the shielded walls beyond, was testimony to the fight Leia and Wedge had put up, which judging by the number of marks had been considerable.
It hadn't been enough, though.
Leia and Wedge were gone.
-----
Chapter Four
Ben Owens took his daughter with him on his inspection of the crops on the eastern sector of the farm. He thought it would be a good idea to take her mind off her being grounded, and he was always uncomfortable whenever she was out of his sight.
But Brenna's was a restless spirit, as his had once been. He thought to try to make her grounding a little more bearable by giving her a physical outlet for her frustration and allow some social interaction in the bargain. "If you want," he told her, "you can invite your girlfriends over after school tomorrow for a self-defense lesson."
"The only one besides me not going to Mori's party is Posha," Brenna replied. "And Posha couldn't fight her way out of a sack made of lithet skin."
"True," her father said with a smile. He'd been kind to the girl, allowing her to flip him to the ground even though her technique was all wrong, just to build up her confidence a little. "But that just means she needs more practice.
"I don't think so," Brenna said. "I'm not in the mood to go back to square one."
"Your choice," her father said. He bent to examine the thirsty plants, then glanced up at the clear blue sky, the same color as his eyes. There wasn't a wisp of cloud in sight, par for Tatooine. "One more week, I think," he said, "if we can get the moisture 'vaporators working again in the next couple of days." Moisture 'vaporators seemed to be the bane of his existence. But compared to other matters, they were only a minor nuisance.
"If we planted rayam instead of guaco beans, we'd be able to afford a dozen new 'vaporators," his daughter reminded him, for the umpteenth time.
"Guaco beans are a staple," her father replied. "The underdeveloped planets depend on them. They can be grown cheaply, transported cheaply, and—"
"And sold cheaply," Brenna added with a sigh. "I know."
"We make enough to get by on. If nobody grew guaco beans, there would be a lot of people on a lot of worlds who would starve to death."
"I'm not complaining," Brenna told him. "I'm just pointing out that if we saved even one field for something besides the standard crops, we wouldn't have to work so hard."
"Hard work is good for you. Takes your mind off your problems." He smiled at her, then stood up and brushed the sand from his pants and robe. The plants had been without moisture for weeks, but they were genetically engineered to grow on worlds like this. They could survive a while longer. "Anyway, we should have your Academy tuition saved up by the time you're ready to go, and that's all that matters." He glanced at the position of the twin suns. They had just about an hour left before the suns set, and they needed to be back at the housing units by then. Or at least, Brenna did.
"I don't want to go to the Academy," Brenna said. "I want to learn the ways of the Force."
Owens' smile evaporated. "Brenna, we've been over this before. The Jedi Knights are a myth, a remnant of imagination from by-gone days. They don't exist anymore."
"They do exist," Brenna insisted. "As soon as my birthday gets here, I'll hire out as a mechanic and get off this rock, and—"
"You've never spaced before." Owens interrupted. "Do you have any idea how dark it is out there?"
"Hyperspace isn't. I've seen it on the tridees. There's got to be one or two Jedi Knights somewhere. I'll find them. And if they won't train me, I'll find some other way to learn."
"You're chasing a fantasy, Bren."
"You don't understand. I feel the Force. I know I do. I want to learn how to use it."
"I know what you want, but the fact remains that—"
He stopped suddenly and stared straight ahead. His face drained of color, and his breathing quickened.
Brenna's frustration immediately turned into worry and concern. "Dad? What is it? Is it another attack?"
"Brenna," Owens said tightly. "Brenna, get back...to the housing complex." He didn't want her to see him. It was Wedge, this time, and he'd always been closer to Wedge than to the others.
"No! I won't leave you! I'm calling for the emergency medics." She fumbled for the communicator on her belt.
"Won't do...any good. Please, Brenna, get...back to the complex. I'll be all right!"
"I'm staying with you!"
Owens closed his eyes and pressed his fists against his head in agony. "No!" he shouted. "No! Leave him...alone! Stop it!"
"Dad!" There was genuine fear in his daughter's voice, fear that would normally drive him to alleviate it as soon as possible, partly because he just didn't want her to be afraid, but partly because there were the side-effects of her fear that even Brenna didn't know about.
But right now Ben Owens couldn't hear her words or sense her fear. He was someplace else, someone else, feeling what was happening not to himself, but to someone who had been his best friend. "Stop it, you...bastard! Leave him...alone!"
.
.
.
It didn't last as long as the others had, although the twin suns had both set by the time it was finished, but the intensity was much greater than before. As Owens returned to himself, he discovered that he was sobbing. As he realized that, he also realized he was not the only one crying. Brenna held his head cradled in her lap and was sitting on the ground rocking him to her. Her face was buried next to his, and the wetness he felt on his cheek was just as much hers as it was his.
"I'm...all right now, Bren," he said. He reached out blindly, found her head, and stroked her hair. "It's over." But it was only over for Wedge and for himself, not for her.
"Dark...Dark...Dark..." she whispered.
She wasn't herself. Just as he hadn't been himself.
He recovered enough to realize that the daylight was gone, and he knew the terrors that night held for his daughter. During the day, there seemed to be nothing that could scare her, but at night, just the night itself was terrifying to her. "Come on, Bren, let's get back to the complex." He somehow found the energy to stand up and pull her with him.
"It's dark..." Brenna said again.
"I know. But I'm here with you. And look, I've got a lamp here, on my belt."
The tiny illumination offered only a small comfort to his daughter, but every little bit helped. Brenna clung to her father tightly. "It's dark..." she repeated in the same frightened whisper.
"We're not far, Bren," Owens said soothingly. It was hard to act like a father again so soon after just returning from Hell, but Brenna was in her own Hell now, and there were reasons of which Brenna herself was not even aware that made it imperative to end it quickly.
Especially now that Wedge was gone, too.
Ben Owens took his daughter with him on his inspection of the crops on the eastern sector of the farm. He thought it would be a good idea to take her mind off her being grounded, and he was always uncomfortable whenever she was out of his sight.
But Brenna's was a restless spirit, as his had once been. He thought to try to make her grounding a little more bearable by giving her a physical outlet for her frustration and allow some social interaction in the bargain. "If you want," he told her, "you can invite your girlfriends over after school tomorrow for a self-defense lesson."
"The only one besides me not going to Mori's party is Posha," Brenna replied. "And Posha couldn't fight her way out of a sack made of lithet skin."
"True," her father said with a smile. He'd been kind to the girl, allowing her to flip him to the ground even though her technique was all wrong, just to build up her confidence a little. "But that just means she needs more practice.
"I don't think so," Brenna said. "I'm not in the mood to go back to square one."
"Your choice," her father said. He bent to examine the thirsty plants, then glanced up at the clear blue sky, the same color as his eyes. There wasn't a wisp of cloud in sight, par for Tatooine. "One more week, I think," he said, "if we can get the moisture 'vaporators working again in the next couple of days." Moisture 'vaporators seemed to be the bane of his existence. But compared to other matters, they were only a minor nuisance.
"If we planted rayam instead of guaco beans, we'd be able to afford a dozen new 'vaporators," his daughter reminded him, for the umpteenth time.
"Guaco beans are a staple," her father replied. "The underdeveloped planets depend on them. They can be grown cheaply, transported cheaply, and—"
"And sold cheaply," Brenna added with a sigh. "I know."
"We make enough to get by on. If nobody grew guaco beans, there would be a lot of people on a lot of worlds who would starve to death."
"I'm not complaining," Brenna told him. "I'm just pointing out that if we saved even one field for something besides the standard crops, we wouldn't have to work so hard."
"Hard work is good for you. Takes your mind off your problems." He smiled at her, then stood up and brushed the sand from his pants and robe. The plants had been without moisture for weeks, but they were genetically engineered to grow on worlds like this. They could survive a while longer. "Anyway, we should have your Academy tuition saved up by the time you're ready to go, and that's all that matters." He glanced at the position of the twin suns. They had just about an hour left before the suns set, and they needed to be back at the housing units by then. Or at least, Brenna did.
"I don't want to go to the Academy," Brenna said. "I want to learn the ways of the Force."
Owens' smile evaporated. "Brenna, we've been over this before. The Jedi Knights are a myth, a remnant of imagination from by-gone days. They don't exist anymore."
"They do exist," Brenna insisted. "As soon as my birthday gets here, I'll hire out as a mechanic and get off this rock, and—"
"You've never spaced before." Owens interrupted. "Do you have any idea how dark it is out there?"
"Hyperspace isn't. I've seen it on the tridees. There's got to be one or two Jedi Knights somewhere. I'll find them. And if they won't train me, I'll find some other way to learn."
"You're chasing a fantasy, Bren."
"You don't understand. I feel the Force. I know I do. I want to learn how to use it."
"I know what you want, but the fact remains that—"
He stopped suddenly and stared straight ahead. His face drained of color, and his breathing quickened.
Brenna's frustration immediately turned into worry and concern. "Dad? What is it? Is it another attack?"
"Brenna," Owens said tightly. "Brenna, get back...to the housing complex." He didn't want her to see him. It was Wedge, this time, and he'd always been closer to Wedge than to the others.
"No! I won't leave you! I'm calling for the emergency medics." She fumbled for the communicator on her belt.
"Won't do...any good. Please, Brenna, get...back to the complex. I'll be all right!"
"I'm staying with you!"
Owens closed his eyes and pressed his fists against his head in agony. "No!" he shouted. "No! Leave him...alone! Stop it!"
"Dad!" There was genuine fear in his daughter's voice, fear that would normally drive him to alleviate it as soon as possible, partly because he just didn't want her to be afraid, but partly because there were the side-effects of her fear that even Brenna didn't know about.
But right now Ben Owens couldn't hear her words or sense her fear. He was someplace else, someone else, feeling what was happening not to himself, but to someone who had been his best friend. "Stop it, you...bastard! Leave him...alone!"
.
.
.
It didn't last as long as the others had, although the twin suns had both set by the time it was finished, but the intensity was much greater than before. As Owens returned to himself, he discovered that he was sobbing. As he realized that, he also realized he was not the only one crying. Brenna held his head cradled in her lap and was sitting on the ground rocking him to her. Her face was buried next to his, and the wetness he felt on his cheek was just as much hers as it was his.
"I'm...all right now, Bren," he said. He reached out blindly, found her head, and stroked her hair. "It's over." But it was only over for Wedge and for himself, not for her.
"Dark...Dark...Dark..." she whispered.
She wasn't herself. Just as he hadn't been himself.
He recovered enough to realize that the daylight was gone, and he knew the terrors that night held for his daughter. During the day, there seemed to be nothing that could scare her, but at night, just the night itself was terrifying to her. "Come on, Bren, let's get back to the complex." He somehow found the energy to stand up and pull her with him.
"It's dark..." Brenna said again.
"I know. But I'm here with you. And look, I've got a lamp here, on my belt."
The tiny illumination offered only a small comfort to his daughter, but every little bit helped. Brenna clung to her father tightly. "It's dark..." she repeated in the same frightened whisper.
"We're not far, Bren," Owens said soothingly. It was hard to act like a father again so soon after just returning from Hell, but Brenna was in her own Hell now, and there were reasons of which Brenna herself was not even aware that made it imperative to end it quickly.
Especially now that Wedge was gone, too.
-----
Chapter Five
The first rays of the morning twin suns had barely touched the scorched, parched land when Brenna left her brightly lit sleeping unit for the kitchen unit. Her father was already there—had been there all night, in fact. His features were drawn, his body and mind exhausted, and his eyes troubled.
Wedge had been fortunate, if you could call it that. His skill at bio-control had always been better than the others', and he was able to end it for himself much sooner than it would otherwise have been. Still, Owens' closeness to Wedge had taken its toll.
Brenna moved mechanically, gathering plate, cup, and utensils more by habit than by motivation. "I couldn't sleep last night," she said. It was all she could think of to say.
"I know."
"I don't think I'll go to school today."
Owens didn't answer. There was a long silence. Then Brenna asked, "Are you all right, Dad? That last attack was the worst one yet."
"I'm okay."
"I wish you would tell me what they are," Brenna said. "They don't sound like anything I've ever heard of."
"Don't worry, Bren. There won't be any more."
"How do you know?"
"I just know."
Brenna pretended to be absorbed with making breakfast. Suddenly, she turned and said, "Who's 'Wedge'?"
Owens looked at her sharply.
"You said his name during your attack. You said, 'Leave Wedge alone!'"
Owens stood up and poured himself a cup of coffee, which he really didn't intend to drink. "Wedge...was a friend of mine. He's dead now. I... must have been thinking about him when I had the attack."
Brenna pushed her plate away. "I think I will go to school today, after all," she announced. "I have a research project I need to work on..."
"Take the Artoo unit with you," was all her father said.
.
.
.
Brenna got a pass from her first period teacher to go to the computer library to work on her 'research project.' There were fourteen million, three hundred ninety-two thousand, four hundred and twenty-four records from five hundred and eighty-eight systems, that matched the name 'Wedge.' She narrowed it down to those who had been born since seventy-five standard years ago, figuring she'd add about twenty-five years to her father's approximate birthdate, just in case this 'Wedge' person had been older than her father. Then she narrowed it down to just males, since her father had also said, "Leave him alone." Matches: one million six hundred forty-two thousand, one hundred, and two. Still too many to search individually.
Brenna sighed. Then she cross-referenced all the records with the name 'Ben Owens.' Matches: zero. Well, no surprise there. She'd already tried to look up her father on computer searches ages ago. He'd just seemed to appear on Tatooine out of nowhere. There wasn't even any visual likeness of him on record.
Then she looked for any records of her narrowed 'Wedge' search that were associated with Tatooine. Matches: zero.
Maybe she was going about this the wrong way. Maybe instead of trying to reference the name with her father's name or Tatooine, she should be looking for some other connection. But there was something familiar about the name 'Wedge'.
Not that, with so many possibilities and so many worlds, she had even a prayer of finding out who this Wedge person was, and what his relationship was to her father, but she was still determined to try. She thought for another moment, then eliminated from her search any of those that had never been off-world, since obviously her father had had to have known him from somewhere, but that failed to accomplish much of anything.
When the bell rang, Brenna was one of the first students out of the door. But once outside the library, she stayed near the door, searching the sea of students for the one that she wanted. The Artoo unit parked itself nearby like the faithful little 'droid that it was. It scanned for weapons and other signs of nearby hostiles, as Brenna's father had programmed it to do, and not for symptoms of a rare medical condition flare up, as school officials had been told it would do, to explain its occasional presence. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, it remained silent.
Finally, the face Brenna wanted appeared in the crowd, and Brenna made her way towards the approaching student. Artoo fell in behind her, and stopped when she stopped.
"I see you brought your babysitter with you today," the other student commented, looking at Artoo.
"Yeah," Brenna said. "Did you get it?"
He held up a code key. "Right here. You'll have to do it this period, though. Old man Goslin has his prep now."
"No problem." Her second period teacher was absent today, and attendance records of substitutes were notoriously inaccurate. With her past attendance, the attendance office was bound to assume an error. She reached for the disk, but the other student snatched it back.
"First my insignia," he said.
Brenna reached up to her collar, unpinned the pilot's insignia she'd put on when she'd gotten dressed for school, dropped it into the other student's hand, and took the disk which he now let her have.
The other student grinned and pinned the insignia onto his own collar. "Nice to have it back. Your plan won't work, though. Not unless you have the 'droid's security codes."
"Got 'em," Brenna informed him. "All I need is to get into the room."
"Well, you're on your own. I got better things to do." He turned and started to walk away.
"Hey, Ace," Brenna called after him.
He turned and looked at her.
"Anytime you want to lose that insignia again, just let me know."
He shook his head and walked away.
Ten minutes later, Brenna led Artoo into the 'droid repair room of the vocational department of the school, using the code key for which she had just traded back the pilot's insignia. She had managed to luck out one night a couple of months ago when her father was making some minor repairs on Artoo's sensors and thought she was asleep in bed. He had relayed the codes verbally, and she'd been in a position to hear. She'd held onto the information, saving it for a rainy day, so to speak, and today on the desert world of Tatooine, for the first time in ages, it was pouring. With any luck, her father wouldn't have thought to change the codes since then.
Brenna got Artoo into position by telling it she'd lost an expensive hairclip in that part of the room and asking it to help her look for the missing accessory. When the Artoo unit rolled near the memory connectors, she'd simply turned it off.
Since the memory storage areas were passive circuits, the little 'droid would never even know it had been violated. All it would know was that it had been turned off, and for how long.
When Artoo was connected, Brenna activated the analysis unit, punched in Artoo's codes, and grinned at the options displayed before her. "Yes!" she exclaimed. There were messages recorded and saved in memory, and she pondered over her choices briefly. It wasn't a difficult decision. She'd simply view them in chronological order. The older messages were bound to be the most interesting. She punched the choice for the oldest message, and sat back to watch.
It seemed immoral, spying on her father's private messages like this, but he never told her anything, and she had the right to know who he was, didn't she?
The message was from some woman, a girl really, and one who was oddly familiar. It had been recorded to playback at 1/8 size, so it stood less than a foot tall. She was elegantly dressed in a white hooded outfit, and there was a look of desperation about her. "General Kenobi," she said. "Years ago you served my father in the Clone Wars. Now he begs you to help him in his struggle against the Empire. I regret that I am unable to present my father's request to you in person, but my ship has fallen under attack, and I'm afraid my mission to bring you to Alderaan has failed. I've placed information vital to the survival of the Rebellion into the memory systems of this Artoo unit. My father will know how to retrieve it. You must see this 'droid safely delivered to him on Alderaan. This is our most desperate hour. Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope."
Brenna raised her eyebrows and looked at the 'droid with new respect. Artoo Detoo had somehow been involved in the Rebellion against the Empire?
But Alderaan had been destroyed in the wars. Oh, well. Brenna would do more research later, and try to find out who this 'Obi Wan Kenobi' and the woman in the message were. But right now, she only had one period to complete her mission, and she pressed the button to play the next message.
Unlike the previous message, this one was set to play at 2X size. The holo-image loomed larger than life in front of her. The image was huge, almost four meters tall.
"Whoa," Brenna said, grinning. It was her father, all right, but as a young man. She'd never seen any images of him at all, much less any images of him when he was young, but she knew him right off. He stood there, in desert robes, his hands folded in front of his stomach in that weird, placid fashion of his, one hand covering the other, thumbs touching. It seemed ostentatious for this to be played back double-size, especially given that the previous message was so small, and that was surprising, given that her father abhorred ostentation. She didn't have time to think about it, however, because the image began to speak.
"Greetings, Exalted One," the image began.
Brenna wondered who in the galaxy her father would ever address as 'Exalted One.' It seemed totally out of character. Maybe he was teasing the recipient of the message.
"Allow me to introduce myself," the image said. "I am Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight, and friend of Captain Solo."
Brenna blinked, wondering if she had heard correctly. 'Luke Skywalker' was a name not unknown to her. She had once considered him as a possible Jedi Knight candidate, given Skywalker's role in the Battle of Yavin, but he hadn't done much of note since, except disappear off the face of Coruscant. The odd thing was, Skywalker's homeworld was right here, on Tatooine.
The message continued, heedless of her reaction. "I know that you are powerful, Mighty Jabba, and that your anger with Solo must be equally as powerful."
But Brenna only half listened to the rest of the message. She was thinking about the second sentence of the message. Luke Skywalker…Jedi Knight? Her father?
"I seek an audience with Your Greatness," the image went on, "to bargain for Solo's life."
The names 'Jabba' and 'Solo' barely registered in her consciousness. She repeated the sentence over and over in her mind. I am Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight, and friend of Captain Solo.
"With your wisdom, I'm sure that we can work out an arrangement which will be mutually beneficial, and allow us to avoid any unpleasant confrontation."
'Unpleasant confrontation'? That phrase, at least, penetrated a layer of her consciousness. Brenna's father was the most un-confrontational man in the galaxy.
"As a token of my good faith, I present to you a gift—these two 'droids. Both are hard-working, and will serve you well."
The message faded out, and it took Brenna a few heart-beats to realize it was no longer playing. She stared at the space where the image had stood, dumbfounded.
I am Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight, and friend of Captain Solo.
Her father was a Jedi Knight!
It would explain a lot. He hadn't been just 'passing by' Beggar's Canyon. And even if he had been, how would he have known that she was one of the pilots? How could he? He had to have known through the Force, of course. And all this time, she'd thought he was a non-sensitive!
But if this message answered some of her questions, it raised many more that were unanswered. The first one was, why hadn't he ever told her?
Brenna remained lost in her thoughts for a long moment. She had intended only to learn some tiny tidbit of information about her father, expecting to find nothing of any real interest, really. Instead, she learned that her father's secrets and her own heart's quest were so intimately entwined they were essentially one and the same. She nearly laughed out loud. She'd been ready, as soon as she reached her majority, to board the first freighter headed off-world to go in search of the elusive Jedi Knights, and it turned out her own father was one!
Brenna stared at the empty space where the message had played, half-wondering whether she had heard the message correctly. Then, just to make sure she'd made no mistake, she pressed the button to replay the message.
The first rays of the morning twin suns had barely touched the scorched, parched land when Brenna left her brightly lit sleeping unit for the kitchen unit. Her father was already there—had been there all night, in fact. His features were drawn, his body and mind exhausted, and his eyes troubled.
Wedge had been fortunate, if you could call it that. His skill at bio-control had always been better than the others', and he was able to end it for himself much sooner than it would otherwise have been. Still, Owens' closeness to Wedge had taken its toll.
Brenna moved mechanically, gathering plate, cup, and utensils more by habit than by motivation. "I couldn't sleep last night," she said. It was all she could think of to say.
"I know."
"I don't think I'll go to school today."
Owens didn't answer. There was a long silence. Then Brenna asked, "Are you all right, Dad? That last attack was the worst one yet."
"I'm okay."
"I wish you would tell me what they are," Brenna said. "They don't sound like anything I've ever heard of."
"Don't worry, Bren. There won't be any more."
"How do you know?"
"I just know."
Brenna pretended to be absorbed with making breakfast. Suddenly, she turned and said, "Who's 'Wedge'?"
Owens looked at her sharply.
"You said his name during your attack. You said, 'Leave Wedge alone!'"
Owens stood up and poured himself a cup of coffee, which he really didn't intend to drink. "Wedge...was a friend of mine. He's dead now. I... must have been thinking about him when I had the attack."
Brenna pushed her plate away. "I think I will go to school today, after all," she announced. "I have a research project I need to work on..."
"Take the Artoo unit with you," was all her father said.
.
.
.
Brenna got a pass from her first period teacher to go to the computer library to work on her 'research project.' There were fourteen million, three hundred ninety-two thousand, four hundred and twenty-four records from five hundred and eighty-eight systems, that matched the name 'Wedge.' She narrowed it down to those who had been born since seventy-five standard years ago, figuring she'd add about twenty-five years to her father's approximate birthdate, just in case this 'Wedge' person had been older than her father. Then she narrowed it down to just males, since her father had also said, "Leave him alone." Matches: one million six hundred forty-two thousand, one hundred, and two. Still too many to search individually.
Brenna sighed. Then she cross-referenced all the records with the name 'Ben Owens.' Matches: zero. Well, no surprise there. She'd already tried to look up her father on computer searches ages ago. He'd just seemed to appear on Tatooine out of nowhere. There wasn't even any visual likeness of him on record.
Then she looked for any records of her narrowed 'Wedge' search that were associated with Tatooine. Matches: zero.
Maybe she was going about this the wrong way. Maybe instead of trying to reference the name with her father's name or Tatooine, she should be looking for some other connection. But there was something familiar about the name 'Wedge'.
Not that, with so many possibilities and so many worlds, she had even a prayer of finding out who this Wedge person was, and what his relationship was to her father, but she was still determined to try. She thought for another moment, then eliminated from her search any of those that had never been off-world, since obviously her father had had to have known him from somewhere, but that failed to accomplish much of anything.
When the bell rang, Brenna was one of the first students out of the door. But once outside the library, she stayed near the door, searching the sea of students for the one that she wanted. The Artoo unit parked itself nearby like the faithful little 'droid that it was. It scanned for weapons and other signs of nearby hostiles, as Brenna's father had programmed it to do, and not for symptoms of a rare medical condition flare up, as school officials had been told it would do, to explain its occasional presence. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, it remained silent.
Finally, the face Brenna wanted appeared in the crowd, and Brenna made her way towards the approaching student. Artoo fell in behind her, and stopped when she stopped.
"I see you brought your babysitter with you today," the other student commented, looking at Artoo.
"Yeah," Brenna said. "Did you get it?"
He held up a code key. "Right here. You'll have to do it this period, though. Old man Goslin has his prep now."
"No problem." Her second period teacher was absent today, and attendance records of substitutes were notoriously inaccurate. With her past attendance, the attendance office was bound to assume an error. She reached for the disk, but the other student snatched it back.
"First my insignia," he said.
Brenna reached up to her collar, unpinned the pilot's insignia she'd put on when she'd gotten dressed for school, dropped it into the other student's hand, and took the disk which he now let her have.
The other student grinned and pinned the insignia onto his own collar. "Nice to have it back. Your plan won't work, though. Not unless you have the 'droid's security codes."
"Got 'em," Brenna informed him. "All I need is to get into the room."
"Well, you're on your own. I got better things to do." He turned and started to walk away.
"Hey, Ace," Brenna called after him.
He turned and looked at her.
"Anytime you want to lose that insignia again, just let me know."
He shook his head and walked away.
Ten minutes later, Brenna led Artoo into the 'droid repair room of the vocational department of the school, using the code key for which she had just traded back the pilot's insignia. She had managed to luck out one night a couple of months ago when her father was making some minor repairs on Artoo's sensors and thought she was asleep in bed. He had relayed the codes verbally, and she'd been in a position to hear. She'd held onto the information, saving it for a rainy day, so to speak, and today on the desert world of Tatooine, for the first time in ages, it was pouring. With any luck, her father wouldn't have thought to change the codes since then.
Brenna got Artoo into position by telling it she'd lost an expensive hairclip in that part of the room and asking it to help her look for the missing accessory. When the Artoo unit rolled near the memory connectors, she'd simply turned it off.
Since the memory storage areas were passive circuits, the little 'droid would never even know it had been violated. All it would know was that it had been turned off, and for how long.
When Artoo was connected, Brenna activated the analysis unit, punched in Artoo's codes, and grinned at the options displayed before her. "Yes!" she exclaimed. There were messages recorded and saved in memory, and she pondered over her choices briefly. It wasn't a difficult decision. She'd simply view them in chronological order. The older messages were bound to be the most interesting. She punched the choice for the oldest message, and sat back to watch.
It seemed immoral, spying on her father's private messages like this, but he never told her anything, and she had the right to know who he was, didn't she?
The message was from some woman, a girl really, and one who was oddly familiar. It had been recorded to playback at 1/8 size, so it stood less than a foot tall. She was elegantly dressed in a white hooded outfit, and there was a look of desperation about her. "General Kenobi," she said. "Years ago you served my father in the Clone Wars. Now he begs you to help him in his struggle against the Empire. I regret that I am unable to present my father's request to you in person, but my ship has fallen under attack, and I'm afraid my mission to bring you to Alderaan has failed. I've placed information vital to the survival of the Rebellion into the memory systems of this Artoo unit. My father will know how to retrieve it. You must see this 'droid safely delivered to him on Alderaan. This is our most desperate hour. Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope."
Brenna raised her eyebrows and looked at the 'droid with new respect. Artoo Detoo had somehow been involved in the Rebellion against the Empire?
But Alderaan had been destroyed in the wars. Oh, well. Brenna would do more research later, and try to find out who this 'Obi Wan Kenobi' and the woman in the message were. But right now, she only had one period to complete her mission, and she pressed the button to play the next message.
Unlike the previous message, this one was set to play at 2X size. The holo-image loomed larger than life in front of her. The image was huge, almost four meters tall.
"Whoa," Brenna said, grinning. It was her father, all right, but as a young man. She'd never seen any images of him at all, much less any images of him when he was young, but she knew him right off. He stood there, in desert robes, his hands folded in front of his stomach in that weird, placid fashion of his, one hand covering the other, thumbs touching. It seemed ostentatious for this to be played back double-size, especially given that the previous message was so small, and that was surprising, given that her father abhorred ostentation. She didn't have time to think about it, however, because the image began to speak.
"Greetings, Exalted One," the image began.
Brenna wondered who in the galaxy her father would ever address as 'Exalted One.' It seemed totally out of character. Maybe he was teasing the recipient of the message.
"Allow me to introduce myself," the image said. "I am Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight, and friend of Captain Solo."
Brenna blinked, wondering if she had heard correctly. 'Luke Skywalker' was a name not unknown to her. She had once considered him as a possible Jedi Knight candidate, given Skywalker's role in the Battle of Yavin, but he hadn't done much of note since, except disappear off the face of Coruscant. The odd thing was, Skywalker's homeworld was right here, on Tatooine.
The message continued, heedless of her reaction. "I know that you are powerful, Mighty Jabba, and that your anger with Solo must be equally as powerful."
But Brenna only half listened to the rest of the message. She was thinking about the second sentence of the message. Luke Skywalker…Jedi Knight? Her father?
"I seek an audience with Your Greatness," the image went on, "to bargain for Solo's life."
The names 'Jabba' and 'Solo' barely registered in her consciousness. She repeated the sentence over and over in her mind. I am Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight, and friend of Captain Solo.
"With your wisdom, I'm sure that we can work out an arrangement which will be mutually beneficial, and allow us to avoid any unpleasant confrontation."
'Unpleasant confrontation'? That phrase, at least, penetrated a layer of her consciousness. Brenna's father was the most un-confrontational man in the galaxy.
"As a token of my good faith, I present to you a gift—these two 'droids. Both are hard-working, and will serve you well."
The message faded out, and it took Brenna a few heart-beats to realize it was no longer playing. She stared at the space where the image had stood, dumbfounded.
I am Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight, and friend of Captain Solo.
Her father was a Jedi Knight!
It would explain a lot. He hadn't been just 'passing by' Beggar's Canyon. And even if he had been, how would he have known that she was one of the pilots? How could he? He had to have known through the Force, of course. And all this time, she'd thought he was a non-sensitive!
But if this message answered some of her questions, it raised many more that were unanswered. The first one was, why hadn't he ever told her?
Brenna remained lost in her thoughts for a long moment. She had intended only to learn some tiny tidbit of information about her father, expecting to find nothing of any real interest, really. Instead, she learned that her father's secrets and her own heart's quest were so intimately entwined they were essentially one and the same. She nearly laughed out loud. She'd been ready, as soon as she reached her majority, to board the first freighter headed off-world to go in search of the elusive Jedi Knights, and it turned out her own father was one!
Brenna stared at the empty space where the message had played, half-wondering whether she had heard the message correctly. Then, just to make sure she'd made no mistake, she pressed the button to replay the message.
-----
Chapter Six
Space was just a boring place to be, Poul decided. He'd played with his toys and computer games until he didn't want to play with them anymore. For a while, he watched the stars shift past in hyperspace, but after a time they all looked the same. So he hunted for more interesting occupations.
He amused himself briefly by adjusting the atmospheric controls to make Rupert's quarters uncomfortably hot, and Lucy's quarters uncomfortably cold. Then he went in search of something else to do.
What he found was the main airlock, and pushed the button to extend the gangplank. But the safety controls wouldn't let him do that while the Falcon was still in hyperspace. Poul uttered an oath for which his mother would have punished him if she'd heard, and went to see what else he could find.
Then Rupert's voice came over the intercom, announcing that they were coming out of hyperspace, and Poul and Lucy should strap themselves in as soon as they got landing clearance.
Poul watched the stars shift back to normal as the ship switched from hyperdrive to sublight engines, and thought about the airlock once again. He knew from previous trips with his father and family that landing clearance sometimes took as long as an hour or more to obtain.
He went back to the airlock.
.
.
.
Rupert watched Tatooine grow larger in the portal. He was disappointed. It looked so…dull. Chewbacca had spent much of the trip telling him about how Chewie and his father had met Ben Owens—or "Walker-of-the-Sky" as he had then been called in Chewie's language— how they'd rescued his mother from the Death Star space station, how they had then rescued his father from Jabba the Hutt, how “Walker-of-the-Sky” had turned out to be his mother’s brother, and how he was a Jedi Knight, like Wedge. If his uncle really was a Jedi Knight, he expected their destination to be…something more.
Chewbacca growled. He'd found it hot, especially for a fur-bearing sentient.
"Well," Rupert said, "all we have to do is find this fellow, drop off Lucy and Poul, and then I'm going back home. You can come with me, or stay with them."
"Rrrwwggrrr rrmmmf," Chewbacca said.
Rupert smiled. "Thanks. I was hoping you would. If this guy was really once a Jedi Knight, what's he doing on this hunk of sand and rock?"
"Raaawwwl," Chewbacca agreed.
What sounded like a loud thunderclap rocked the ship and interrupted the conversation. The mortu, which had been sleeping in the navigator's chair, suddenly woke and began barking. The Falconbegan to shimmy and rock. "What the—" Rupert grabbed the Falcon's controls and tried to steady her. "We're under attack, or something."
Chewbacca woofed and quickly switched on the shields, and the whistling noise reduced. The shimmying continued.
Rupert looked at the damage control read-outs of his ship. "Hull breach. Starboard stabilizers are gone. We're losing pressure. I'll try to compensate." Rupert flipped the switches that would open the valves on the backup tanks, then switched on the intercom. "Lucy?"
"I'm here!" she replied. "What the Hell was that? Are we under attack?"
"Tell you in a minute. Poul?" He waited a second. "Poul? Poul? Lucy, go find Poul!" Rupert searched the scope frantically, but there were no other ships in the area. "Chewie, check out the damage! See if you can find out what hit us!"
Chewbacca unstrapped from the co-pilot chair and rushed out of the cockpit. He returned a moment later and barked.
Rupert quickly switched the intercom back on. "Lucy? Poul's in the main cabin. He's hurt!" He pulled the headset off and nodded at the Wookiee. "Belay what I said before. Stay at the controls." He slid past the huge Wookiee bulk out of the cockpit, and Chewbacca slid back into the co-pilot's seat.
Rupert and Lucy reached the main cabin at the same time but from opposite directions. The whistling was loudest there, and was coming from the hatch leading to the gangplank. Poul was unconscious on the floor.
Rupert could see the leak. Precious air was being lost. The backup tanks would only keep the pressure up for so long. Rupert ran to one of the containment lockers and tried to rip the door off the hinges. "Help me!" he yelled to Lucy, who was bending over her brother.
"What about Poul? He needs medical attention!"
"A lot of good we'll do him if we're dead!"
Lucy abandoned Poul and added her strength to Rupert's to tear the door off. Once it was free, she helped Rupert position it over the gash in the bulkhead. The suction from outside the ship helped hold it in place, and Rupert grabbed a blanket from the waiting area to stuff in the empty spaces between the door and the bulkhead. It wouldn't hold the air in completely, but would at least delay its escape. Rupert looked at the airlock switch and frowned. Poul had probably thrown it, but that shouldn't have caused this kind of damage. He looked out the portal, and was stunned to see that half the gangplank was missing.
Lucy, kneeling at Poul's side, looked up. "He's got a concussion, or something. We've got to get him to a medical center. Could he have done that?" She pointed to the hull breach.
"No," Rupert said.
"Asteroid?"
"No. Some sort of explosion. Can he be moved?"
"I don't know."
"We'll have to risk it. I can't maintain pressure in here forever." He glanced once more at Poul, then ran back up to the cockpit.
Lucy wasn't sure whether to stay with Poul or follow Rupert, but finally decided on following Rupert since she didn't have a clue how to help Poul.
He was squeezing his way back to his seat when she stuck her head in the doorway. "Don't you even care about your brother?" she asked.
Rupert ignored her and slid into the pilot's seat. "Starboard stabilizers are completely off-line. There's no way to get them back, and I don't know if the Falcon will survive a landing. Time to abandon ship, Chewie. Transfer coordinate data to the life pods. Take Poul with you in pod one. Get him to a hospital. I'm going to seal off the cockpit."
Chewbacca grunted and moved aft. He paused at the doorway, then growled a question.
Rupert looked at his map. "Uh, go to Mos Eisley. There's got to be medical facilities there. After you take care of Poul, check the spaceport and see if this Walker-of-the-Sky or Owens person is there. After that, I think it would be better if we avoided the spaceport. I'll meet you…uh, where? You've been here before."
Chewbacca growled the name of the Cantina where he and Han had frequented in former days. Rupert nodded. "Okay."
With another grunt, Chewbacca was gone. Lucy looked back and saw the Wookiee gently pick up Poul's body and move towards the life pods.
"Lucy," Rupert was saying, "take pod two. Ben Owens lives near a little town called Anchorhead. If he's not at the spaceport in Mos Eisley, he'll be there. Find him and tell him what's going on."
"Mom and Dad told us to stay together," Lucy argued.
"Well, I'm in charge now, and I’m changing the plan. I'm riding the Falcon down. It's gonna be a rough ride, and she may not make it. If she does, I want to be near enough to a space port that I can get the parts to fix her, 'cause she ain't going to take off again like this. The explosion took out the starboard stabilizers."
"Can you land her like that?"
"I'm gonna try."
"What caused the explosion?"
"I think it was a bomb."
"A bomb?" she gasped.
"You better get going. Auxiliary tanks are running dry, and I can't keep pressure up in the main cabin without them. Tell Owens I'll meet him…at the same cantina where he met Dad. Go!"
"Wait—how will you know him? How are you going to recognize each other? You've never met."
"Uh…" Rupert thought a second, then undid one of the pilot's insignia's that adorned his collar and put it in Lucy's hand. "Give this to him. When I see it, I'll know it's him. When he sees its mate, he'll know it's me."
"Oh, great," Lucy muttered. "Mom and Dad told us to stick together."
"Just go!" Rupert ordered. "The Falcon's my ship now, and I don't intend to lose her!"
Space was just a boring place to be, Poul decided. He'd played with his toys and computer games until he didn't want to play with them anymore. For a while, he watched the stars shift past in hyperspace, but after a time they all looked the same. So he hunted for more interesting occupations.
He amused himself briefly by adjusting the atmospheric controls to make Rupert's quarters uncomfortably hot, and Lucy's quarters uncomfortably cold. Then he went in search of something else to do.
What he found was the main airlock, and pushed the button to extend the gangplank. But the safety controls wouldn't let him do that while the Falcon was still in hyperspace. Poul uttered an oath for which his mother would have punished him if she'd heard, and went to see what else he could find.
Then Rupert's voice came over the intercom, announcing that they were coming out of hyperspace, and Poul and Lucy should strap themselves in as soon as they got landing clearance.
Poul watched the stars shift back to normal as the ship switched from hyperdrive to sublight engines, and thought about the airlock once again. He knew from previous trips with his father and family that landing clearance sometimes took as long as an hour or more to obtain.
He went back to the airlock.
.
.
.
Rupert watched Tatooine grow larger in the portal. He was disappointed. It looked so…dull. Chewbacca had spent much of the trip telling him about how Chewie and his father had met Ben Owens—or "Walker-of-the-Sky" as he had then been called in Chewie's language— how they'd rescued his mother from the Death Star space station, how they had then rescued his father from Jabba the Hutt, how “Walker-of-the-Sky” had turned out to be his mother’s brother, and how he was a Jedi Knight, like Wedge. If his uncle really was a Jedi Knight, he expected their destination to be…something more.
Chewbacca growled. He'd found it hot, especially for a fur-bearing sentient.
"Well," Rupert said, "all we have to do is find this fellow, drop off Lucy and Poul, and then I'm going back home. You can come with me, or stay with them."
"Rrrwwggrrr rrmmmf," Chewbacca said.
Rupert smiled. "Thanks. I was hoping you would. If this guy was really once a Jedi Knight, what's he doing on this hunk of sand and rock?"
"Raaawwwl," Chewbacca agreed.
What sounded like a loud thunderclap rocked the ship and interrupted the conversation. The mortu, which had been sleeping in the navigator's chair, suddenly woke and began barking. The Falconbegan to shimmy and rock. "What the—" Rupert grabbed the Falcon's controls and tried to steady her. "We're under attack, or something."
Chewbacca woofed and quickly switched on the shields, and the whistling noise reduced. The shimmying continued.
Rupert looked at the damage control read-outs of his ship. "Hull breach. Starboard stabilizers are gone. We're losing pressure. I'll try to compensate." Rupert flipped the switches that would open the valves on the backup tanks, then switched on the intercom. "Lucy?"
"I'm here!" she replied. "What the Hell was that? Are we under attack?"
"Tell you in a minute. Poul?" He waited a second. "Poul? Poul? Lucy, go find Poul!" Rupert searched the scope frantically, but there were no other ships in the area. "Chewie, check out the damage! See if you can find out what hit us!"
Chewbacca unstrapped from the co-pilot chair and rushed out of the cockpit. He returned a moment later and barked.
Rupert quickly switched the intercom back on. "Lucy? Poul's in the main cabin. He's hurt!" He pulled the headset off and nodded at the Wookiee. "Belay what I said before. Stay at the controls." He slid past the huge Wookiee bulk out of the cockpit, and Chewbacca slid back into the co-pilot's seat.
Rupert and Lucy reached the main cabin at the same time but from opposite directions. The whistling was loudest there, and was coming from the hatch leading to the gangplank. Poul was unconscious on the floor.
Rupert could see the leak. Precious air was being lost. The backup tanks would only keep the pressure up for so long. Rupert ran to one of the containment lockers and tried to rip the door off the hinges. "Help me!" he yelled to Lucy, who was bending over her brother.
"What about Poul? He needs medical attention!"
"A lot of good we'll do him if we're dead!"
Lucy abandoned Poul and added her strength to Rupert's to tear the door off. Once it was free, she helped Rupert position it over the gash in the bulkhead. The suction from outside the ship helped hold it in place, and Rupert grabbed a blanket from the waiting area to stuff in the empty spaces between the door and the bulkhead. It wouldn't hold the air in completely, but would at least delay its escape. Rupert looked at the airlock switch and frowned. Poul had probably thrown it, but that shouldn't have caused this kind of damage. He looked out the portal, and was stunned to see that half the gangplank was missing.
Lucy, kneeling at Poul's side, looked up. "He's got a concussion, or something. We've got to get him to a medical center. Could he have done that?" She pointed to the hull breach.
"No," Rupert said.
"Asteroid?"
"No. Some sort of explosion. Can he be moved?"
"I don't know."
"We'll have to risk it. I can't maintain pressure in here forever." He glanced once more at Poul, then ran back up to the cockpit.
Lucy wasn't sure whether to stay with Poul or follow Rupert, but finally decided on following Rupert since she didn't have a clue how to help Poul.
He was squeezing his way back to his seat when she stuck her head in the doorway. "Don't you even care about your brother?" she asked.
Rupert ignored her and slid into the pilot's seat. "Starboard stabilizers are completely off-line. There's no way to get them back, and I don't know if the Falcon will survive a landing. Time to abandon ship, Chewie. Transfer coordinate data to the life pods. Take Poul with you in pod one. Get him to a hospital. I'm going to seal off the cockpit."
Chewbacca grunted and moved aft. He paused at the doorway, then growled a question.
Rupert looked at his map. "Uh, go to Mos Eisley. There's got to be medical facilities there. After you take care of Poul, check the spaceport and see if this Walker-of-the-Sky or Owens person is there. After that, I think it would be better if we avoided the spaceport. I'll meet you…uh, where? You've been here before."
Chewbacca growled the name of the Cantina where he and Han had frequented in former days. Rupert nodded. "Okay."
With another grunt, Chewbacca was gone. Lucy looked back and saw the Wookiee gently pick up Poul's body and move towards the life pods.
"Lucy," Rupert was saying, "take pod two. Ben Owens lives near a little town called Anchorhead. If he's not at the spaceport in Mos Eisley, he'll be there. Find him and tell him what's going on."
"Mom and Dad told us to stay together," Lucy argued.
"Well, I'm in charge now, and I’m changing the plan. I'm riding the Falcon down. It's gonna be a rough ride, and she may not make it. If she does, I want to be near enough to a space port that I can get the parts to fix her, 'cause she ain't going to take off again like this. The explosion took out the starboard stabilizers."
"Can you land her like that?"
"I'm gonna try."
"What caused the explosion?"
"I think it was a bomb."
"A bomb?" she gasped.
"You better get going. Auxiliary tanks are running dry, and I can't keep pressure up in the main cabin without them. Tell Owens I'll meet him…at the same cantina where he met Dad. Go!"
"Wait—how will you know him? How are you going to recognize each other? You've never met."
"Uh…" Rupert thought a second, then undid one of the pilot's insignia's that adorned his collar and put it in Lucy's hand. "Give this to him. When I see it, I'll know it's him. When he sees its mate, he'll know it's me."
"Oh, great," Lucy muttered. "Mom and Dad told us to stick together."
"Just go!" Rupert ordered. "The Falcon's my ship now, and I don't intend to lose her!"
-----
Chapter Seven
Brenna left school two hours early and got a ride home from another student who was also cutting. She asked to be dropped off outside the compound. The attendance computers would soon notify her father of her absence, but she was headed for home, anyway.
She had learned a lot more than just the information in the message. Now that she had the name 'Luke Skywalker,' it was a relatively easy matter to search for other information. Luke Skywalker had been the hero of the Battle of Yavin, as she already knew. So then she searched for “Captain Solo” in connection with Luke Skywalker.
The 'Captain Solo' mentioned in the message had to have been one Han Solo, who had assisted Skywalker on that final run on the Death Star over Yavin and later led the ground assault on Endor that destroyed the protective shield and enabled the Rebellion to destroy the Death Star II. Skywalker was also listed on the Endor team, but for some unknown reason had not taken part in the battle. Brenna had once also considered General Han Solo as a possible candidate for Jedi Knighthood, but dismissed the notion as being too out of character from what she'd been able to learn about the man.
Brenna also had the identity of the woman in the first message, Solo's wife, Senator Leia Organa-Solo. The senator had once been another candidate Brenna had considered as a possible Jedi Knight. That was why the holo-image had looked so familiar to her. Had the image been of the older and more mature Senator Organa-Solo, Brenna would have recognized it right off. Skywalker and Solo had, immediately prior to the Battle of Yavin, rescued the young Senator Leia Organa from the first Death Star. The Senator had later married Solo and had retained a seat in the New Republic Senate ever since it had been formed. But Brenna had also dismissed Leia Organa-Solo as being a good candidate. During all purported activity of the Jedi Knights, she had been ensconced on Coruscant, busy with senatorial duties.
Brenna kicked herself mentally on not pursuing the Solo family and Skywalker in her quest. If she had just stuck with them, she might have resolved her search much earlier.
The 'Jabba' mentioned in the message was probably Jabba the Hutt, a local Tatooine gangster who had mysteriously disappeared sometime before the Empire fell in the Battle of Endor. No one knew exactly why, or what had befallen the crime lord. Brenna suspected that Skywalker—her father!—had something to do with it.
Now that she had the name 'Skywalker,' she had a whole list of other individuals to round out her list of Jedi Knight candidates. She recalled the names her father had cried out in his attacks, and searched for them in every news article that ever came from Coruscant, every interview that Organa-Solo ever gave, every scrap of information on anyone even associated with Skywalker, until she had last names to go with the first names her father had uttered during his attacks. Then she did a search on that person's current whereabouts. All of the answers came back "unknown" or "unavailable," but at least she had names now.
She was not only now armed with a list of names with which she intended to confront her father, she also had specific date correlations between the absence of names from any of the official lists of political function attendees, which frequently included Skyalker, and the rumors of Jedi activity elsewhere. Now that she knew what to look for, it was a relatively easy matter to spot the connection.
There was, however, another mystery still unsolved: when Skywalker attended any of the political events, he was usually accompanied on these functions of state by someone listed simply as "and guest." There was no telling if "and guest" was the same person, or a series of different people.
There was something else Brenna realized, too: if her father was a Jedi Knight at the time Jabba the Hutt disappeared, before the resurgence of the Jedi, then her father had to have been the one responsible for bringing the Jedi back, since there were no rumors of Jedi activity before the Empire fell, but only after the Battle of Endor.
The records confirmed it. There were long periods when Skywalker and an individual on her list disappeared for months at a time. This usually occurred for those who had newly arrived to Coruscant. Based on the time-frames of who was absent and when, and the steady increases in purported Jedi Knight activity, Brenna deduced that the only logical explanation was that her father had taken these individuals offworld, trained them, and brought them back.
Just for the hell of it, she correlated the date that her father had purchased their farm—purchased it with cash, as a matter of fact. It was only a couple of weeks after the last "Skywalker Sighting," as she began to call them.
She wondered what had happened to make her father quit his previous occupation, and turn to farming so suddenly.
And then, one by one, the names on her list seemed to have disapeared, with their disappearances corresponding roughly to the dates of the “attacks” her father had suffered.
She had listened to as many of the other messages as she dared before having to leave the room. The rest of them were pretty boring in comparison with the first and especially the second, aside from the fact that they pretty much confirmed what she now knew. Some of them were to Senator Organa-Solo, whom her father addressed as "Leia." Most of them were to some unknown recipient and began with his smiling introduction of "It's me." Those were interesting because of their frequency rather than their content, being mostly statements of when he expected to return home, or invitations to come join him. They always ended with him blowing a kiss to the projector, and then pretending to catch a return kiss blown to him, and placing it over his heart. In the last few she was able to watch, he blew two kisses, one of which was "for you," and the other of which was "for Bren." Brenna guessed that these were messages sent to her mother, whom she had been told had died in a hovercar crash when she was only a a couple of years old. If so, it was but another lie her father had perpetrated, but there was really no way to know for sure.
Her father wasn't in the fields when her ride drove past them, so she went to the housing complex. Compound, was more like it. Her father's preoccupation with security was something of a nuisance, but it didn't take long to punch in the codes. Her father had wanted her to be able to enter in a hurry if there was ever an emergency. The fresh transport marks in the sand outside the gate made her frown, since they rarely got visitors.
The one nice thing was that her father had not programmed the security system to keep track of when she left and when she arrived. His attitude was that if the security system were ever breached, whoever breached it would then have that data. Instead, he insisted that she report to him in person immediately whenever she returned from school or whatever, and thus avoid the risk of providing information to the enemy.
What enemy, he never clarified. She couldn't imagine anyone on Tatooine attacking the compound, except maybe Sandpeople, and they wouldn't be smart enough to breach the security system. They'd never even make it inside.
Once inside the outer walls, however, it wasn't unusual to find the doors to the housing units open, since it was more efficient to take advantage of whatever cooling effect the natural breezes had, and her father was nothing if not efficient. Brenna also knew that the airspace above the compound and for some distance around it was monitored constantly by the security systems, and her father could slam every door shut and seal it at the touch of a button or the utterance of a voice command. She left Artoo to follow at its own pace, and went to her father's study-unit.
As Brenna approached her father's study-unit, she heard a voice, not her father's. The metallic sound of servos moving that accompanied the voice indicated that it belonged to a 'droid.
"Excuse me, Master Luke—" the voice said.
Brenna smiled at the confirmation of what she already knew was true.
Her father interrupted before the 'droid could go any further. "I go by the name 'Ben Owens' these days, Threepio. I'd appreciate it if you would use that name for me from now on."
There were sounds of servos whirring again. "Certainly, Sir, if that is your wish. Master Ben, do you still have the Artoo unit? If so, I would very much like to see Artoo again."
"He's with Brenna right now," her father replied. "You can see him when she gets home from school." One of her father's habits was to refer to the Artoo unit as 'he' and 'him,' even though to Brenna it was an androgynous thing, just a machine like any other 'droid. Then he said, "Did Leia say anything else? Give any indication of what she thought her chances of holding out were?"
"No, Sir," the 'droid replied. "However, she was insistent upon staying on Coruscant."
"She always was stubborn," Brenna heard her father say.
"I quite agree," the 'droid commented. "And General Solo is equally as stubborn. Given his previous examples, I would say that the probability is six thousand seventy two to one that he will also insist on remaining behind. But your friend Wedge is seeing to the fortifications—"
"Wedge was there with them when you left?"
"Yes, sir. Is something the matter?"
At that moment, Artoo finally caught up to Brenna. It's auditory sensors picked up the other 'droid's voice, and it let out a whistle and rolled past her. Brenna cursed herself for not having sent it on some occupying errand in another part of the compound.
Inside the study-unit, the 'droid she hadn't yet seen let out an exclamation. "Sir! Could that be Artoo?"
The Artoo unit rolled into the study.
"It is! It is!" exclaimed the new 'droid. Brenna reminded herself to give the Artoo unit an extra hard kick the next time she was alone with it.
"Artoo Deetoo, it's so good to see that you're still fully functional."
"Where's Brenna?" her father asked the Artoo unit. She could just picture his frown.
Brenna stepped into the doorway. "Right here." She took a long look at the new 'droid. 'New' was a relative term. The unit was polished to a bright shine, but it had a few dents and dings, and although it was mostly gold-plated, one leg had obviously been replaced, since it had a titanium sheen.
"What are you doing here?" her father asked.
"I live here, remember?"
"Don't be smart with me. Why are you home so early?"
Brenna scooped up a couple of nuts from the dish her father kept by his computer and tossed one up in the air as she talked. "I decided—" she paused just long enough to catch the nut in her mouth, and talked around it. "—that I could learn more at home than at school. Where'd the new 'droid come from? It's a 3PO unit, isn't it? C-class, if I'm not mistaken."
Threepio turned his attention from R2-D2 to Brenna. "Why, yes, Miss. I am C-3PO, human-cyborg relations."
"You're programmed for protocol?"
"Yes, Miss. I am fluent in over six million forms of communication. I must say, it is rare to find an individual who can identify my make and model so quickly, and with such precision."
"Yeah, yeah," Brenna said, then looked at her father. "What's it doing here?"
Brenna's father sighed. "He brought a message from a friend of mine."
What sort of message?"
"Nothing to concern you."
"It seems to know the Artoo unit."
"Yes, they worked together some time ago."
"I heard the 'droid talk about your friend Wedge as if he were still alive."
"Did he? Perhaps he is, then." Her father ran a hand through his hair. "Listen, Bren. This message is from an old friend who asked me for a favor, to look after her children for a while. Two of them are about your own age, so you should enjoy their company while they're here."
"Why are they coming?"
"That doesn't concern you."
"Doesn't concern me?" Brenna laughed. "Don't you think I have a right to know who comes into my life? Who my own father is? Who I am?" She looked at Threepio for a moment, then turned to her father. "You know what I think?" she asked.
"Brenna, I really don't—"
"I think," Brenna went on, ignoring the interruption, "that your friend Wedge is dead now, but that he was alive when that 'droid was sent with its message. I think he died last night, around the time of your 'attack.'"
Her father locked eyes with her. "You don't need to worry about it, Bren. All you need to worry about is passing the Academy's entrance exam."
Brenna held the lock. "And what name do I put on the application, Dad? Brenna Owens...or Brenna Skywalker?"
Her father didn't move or speak for a long moment. Nor did he break eye contact. There was no reaction whatsoever. Finally, he said, still not breaking eye contact, "I don't know what you're talking about."
Brenna got a funny feeling, like his words were trying to press in on her and make her believe they were true. They didn't penetrate. She was just aware that they were pushing against her, that was all. She pushed back, knowing that she was right. "No? Luke Skywalker was the New Republican hero who destroyed the first Imperial Death Star in the Battle of Yavin. Guess where his homeworld is."
Her father pressed harder. "I've heard of Skywalker. I've also heard that he came from this area. But you're imagining things if you think I'm him."
Brenna laughed, both at her father's words and his attempt to make her believe what he was saying. "Am I? Then I suppose the Force is just a figment of my imagination, too."
"As a matter of fact—"
"And if it's all in my imagination, then it really doesn't matter if I do this."
Brenna closed her eyes. She had never done this before, but she had once read about the Jedi mind-probes. If it could be done, then she was sure she could do it. She sent out a thought-tentacle, to touch a Force-stream and follow it to its source. It was...exhilarating, like guiding a skyhopper at breakneck speed down Beggar's Canyon, like she imagined swimming in white-water to be, yet at the same time, there was something intrusive about it. Intrusive and exciting. She pushed on, into faster-deeper water, but just before the thought-probe penetrated beyond the most superficial of layers of her father's mind, she felt his mind push back on hers.
Brenna, stop!
Her father's unspoken thoughts warned of currents and undertows that could suck her in without warning. Brenna hesitated, then turned back to the more solid footing of her objective senses.
She opened her eyes. "It's true, then."
"Brenna—"
She gave another laugh. "You know, I thought that the stabilizer locked back into place a little too easily, there in Beggar's Canyon. You were the greatest of them all, weren't you? You trained the others. Wedge Antilles, Nor Heden, Solin Tomm, Marck Decker—all of them! You were the only one who disappeared for months on end, each time one of the others vanished for that same time period. And all this time, I thought you were a non-sensitive!"
"Brenna, listen—"
"Oh, you bet I will. I've got some questions I want to hear the answers to. I want to know who my mother was. I want to know who you are, for that matter, and I don't mean the kind of thing that's printed in the public access files. I want to know who sent the message. I want to know everything there is to know about the Jedi Knights. And I want to know a lot of other things, too. But let's start with the answer to 'Why didn't you tell me?'"
Luke ran his hands through his hair. He had always known there was a possibility that Brenna would find out, and now that she knew, he would have to tell her everything. But now was not the time. "Brenna, I can't... explain everything right now. That message is nearly three days old, which means Lucy and Rupert and Poul could arrive at Mos Eisley at any time. I have to go meet them. You'll be safer staying here, but I want you to promise me that you won't use the Force while I'm gone."
Brenna laughed. "I'll do no such thing!" she said.
"Brenna, listen to me. The woman who sent the message—she's my sister, and your aunt."
"I have an aunt?" Brenna echoed incredulously. "There was no record of Luke Skywalker ever having a sister."
"There never was an official record. Leia and I were separated at birth. She and her three children—"
"—Senator Leia Organa-Solo?" Brenna queried.
"Yes. Your cousins are in danger right now, and she's sent them here for protection. You see, Bren, I will tell you everything, but right now I have to see to their safe arrival. I want you to promise not to toy with the Force while I'm gone. We'll talk when I get back, I promise."
Brenna hesitated, then considered her father's wording carefully. After all, he had just promised to tell her everything. "All right," she said finally. "I promise not to...'toy' with the Force, as you say. I won't go skyhopping down Beggar's Canyon, or otherwise use it unnecessarily. Not until you get back, anyway."
Luke sighed at the underlying meaning. But the promise she had given would have to be enough, at least for the time being, and until he could explain to her the reasons why she dared not use the Force, he supposed it was the best he could hope for.
But there was one more thing. "Brenna…don't leave the compound unless there's an emergency. Not to go to school, not to visit your friends, not for any reason whatsoever. It has the best security system money can buy. The man who killed Wedge is an old enemy of mine. If he finds you…I don't want to think about it. He'll hurt me, through you. Do you understand?"
Brenna shrugged. "Sure," she said.
Brenna left school two hours early and got a ride home from another student who was also cutting. She asked to be dropped off outside the compound. The attendance computers would soon notify her father of her absence, but she was headed for home, anyway.
She had learned a lot more than just the information in the message. Now that she had the name 'Luke Skywalker,' it was a relatively easy matter to search for other information. Luke Skywalker had been the hero of the Battle of Yavin, as she already knew. So then she searched for “Captain Solo” in connection with Luke Skywalker.
The 'Captain Solo' mentioned in the message had to have been one Han Solo, who had assisted Skywalker on that final run on the Death Star over Yavin and later led the ground assault on Endor that destroyed the protective shield and enabled the Rebellion to destroy the Death Star II. Skywalker was also listed on the Endor team, but for some unknown reason had not taken part in the battle. Brenna had once also considered General Han Solo as a possible candidate for Jedi Knighthood, but dismissed the notion as being too out of character from what she'd been able to learn about the man.
Brenna also had the identity of the woman in the first message, Solo's wife, Senator Leia Organa-Solo. The senator had once been another candidate Brenna had considered as a possible Jedi Knight. That was why the holo-image had looked so familiar to her. Had the image been of the older and more mature Senator Organa-Solo, Brenna would have recognized it right off. Skywalker and Solo had, immediately prior to the Battle of Yavin, rescued the young Senator Leia Organa from the first Death Star. The Senator had later married Solo and had retained a seat in the New Republic Senate ever since it had been formed. But Brenna had also dismissed Leia Organa-Solo as being a good candidate. During all purported activity of the Jedi Knights, she had been ensconced on Coruscant, busy with senatorial duties.
Brenna kicked herself mentally on not pursuing the Solo family and Skywalker in her quest. If she had just stuck with them, she might have resolved her search much earlier.
The 'Jabba' mentioned in the message was probably Jabba the Hutt, a local Tatooine gangster who had mysteriously disappeared sometime before the Empire fell in the Battle of Endor. No one knew exactly why, or what had befallen the crime lord. Brenna suspected that Skywalker—her father!—had something to do with it.
Now that she had the name 'Skywalker,' she had a whole list of other individuals to round out her list of Jedi Knight candidates. She recalled the names her father had cried out in his attacks, and searched for them in every news article that ever came from Coruscant, every interview that Organa-Solo ever gave, every scrap of information on anyone even associated with Skywalker, until she had last names to go with the first names her father had uttered during his attacks. Then she did a search on that person's current whereabouts. All of the answers came back "unknown" or "unavailable," but at least she had names now.
She was not only now armed with a list of names with which she intended to confront her father, she also had specific date correlations between the absence of names from any of the official lists of political function attendees, which frequently included Skyalker, and the rumors of Jedi activity elsewhere. Now that she knew what to look for, it was a relatively easy matter to spot the connection.
There was, however, another mystery still unsolved: when Skywalker attended any of the political events, he was usually accompanied on these functions of state by someone listed simply as "and guest." There was no telling if "and guest" was the same person, or a series of different people.
There was something else Brenna realized, too: if her father was a Jedi Knight at the time Jabba the Hutt disappeared, before the resurgence of the Jedi, then her father had to have been the one responsible for bringing the Jedi back, since there were no rumors of Jedi activity before the Empire fell, but only after the Battle of Endor.
The records confirmed it. There were long periods when Skywalker and an individual on her list disappeared for months at a time. This usually occurred for those who had newly arrived to Coruscant. Based on the time-frames of who was absent and when, and the steady increases in purported Jedi Knight activity, Brenna deduced that the only logical explanation was that her father had taken these individuals offworld, trained them, and brought them back.
Just for the hell of it, she correlated the date that her father had purchased their farm—purchased it with cash, as a matter of fact. It was only a couple of weeks after the last "Skywalker Sighting," as she began to call them.
She wondered what had happened to make her father quit his previous occupation, and turn to farming so suddenly.
And then, one by one, the names on her list seemed to have disapeared, with their disappearances corresponding roughly to the dates of the “attacks” her father had suffered.
She had listened to as many of the other messages as she dared before having to leave the room. The rest of them were pretty boring in comparison with the first and especially the second, aside from the fact that they pretty much confirmed what she now knew. Some of them were to Senator Organa-Solo, whom her father addressed as "Leia." Most of them were to some unknown recipient and began with his smiling introduction of "It's me." Those were interesting because of their frequency rather than their content, being mostly statements of when he expected to return home, or invitations to come join him. They always ended with him blowing a kiss to the projector, and then pretending to catch a return kiss blown to him, and placing it over his heart. In the last few she was able to watch, he blew two kisses, one of which was "for you," and the other of which was "for Bren." Brenna guessed that these were messages sent to her mother, whom she had been told had died in a hovercar crash when she was only a a couple of years old. If so, it was but another lie her father had perpetrated, but there was really no way to know for sure.
Her father wasn't in the fields when her ride drove past them, so she went to the housing complex. Compound, was more like it. Her father's preoccupation with security was something of a nuisance, but it didn't take long to punch in the codes. Her father had wanted her to be able to enter in a hurry if there was ever an emergency. The fresh transport marks in the sand outside the gate made her frown, since they rarely got visitors.
The one nice thing was that her father had not programmed the security system to keep track of when she left and when she arrived. His attitude was that if the security system were ever breached, whoever breached it would then have that data. Instead, he insisted that she report to him in person immediately whenever she returned from school or whatever, and thus avoid the risk of providing information to the enemy.
What enemy, he never clarified. She couldn't imagine anyone on Tatooine attacking the compound, except maybe Sandpeople, and they wouldn't be smart enough to breach the security system. They'd never even make it inside.
Once inside the outer walls, however, it wasn't unusual to find the doors to the housing units open, since it was more efficient to take advantage of whatever cooling effect the natural breezes had, and her father was nothing if not efficient. Brenna also knew that the airspace above the compound and for some distance around it was monitored constantly by the security systems, and her father could slam every door shut and seal it at the touch of a button or the utterance of a voice command. She left Artoo to follow at its own pace, and went to her father's study-unit.
As Brenna approached her father's study-unit, she heard a voice, not her father's. The metallic sound of servos moving that accompanied the voice indicated that it belonged to a 'droid.
"Excuse me, Master Luke—" the voice said.
Brenna smiled at the confirmation of what she already knew was true.
Her father interrupted before the 'droid could go any further. "I go by the name 'Ben Owens' these days, Threepio. I'd appreciate it if you would use that name for me from now on."
There were sounds of servos whirring again. "Certainly, Sir, if that is your wish. Master Ben, do you still have the Artoo unit? If so, I would very much like to see Artoo again."
"He's with Brenna right now," her father replied. "You can see him when she gets home from school." One of her father's habits was to refer to the Artoo unit as 'he' and 'him,' even though to Brenna it was an androgynous thing, just a machine like any other 'droid. Then he said, "Did Leia say anything else? Give any indication of what she thought her chances of holding out were?"
"No, Sir," the 'droid replied. "However, she was insistent upon staying on Coruscant."
"She always was stubborn," Brenna heard her father say.
"I quite agree," the 'droid commented. "And General Solo is equally as stubborn. Given his previous examples, I would say that the probability is six thousand seventy two to one that he will also insist on remaining behind. But your friend Wedge is seeing to the fortifications—"
"Wedge was there with them when you left?"
"Yes, sir. Is something the matter?"
At that moment, Artoo finally caught up to Brenna. It's auditory sensors picked up the other 'droid's voice, and it let out a whistle and rolled past her. Brenna cursed herself for not having sent it on some occupying errand in another part of the compound.
Inside the study-unit, the 'droid she hadn't yet seen let out an exclamation. "Sir! Could that be Artoo?"
The Artoo unit rolled into the study.
"It is! It is!" exclaimed the new 'droid. Brenna reminded herself to give the Artoo unit an extra hard kick the next time she was alone with it.
"Artoo Deetoo, it's so good to see that you're still fully functional."
"Where's Brenna?" her father asked the Artoo unit. She could just picture his frown.
Brenna stepped into the doorway. "Right here." She took a long look at the new 'droid. 'New' was a relative term. The unit was polished to a bright shine, but it had a few dents and dings, and although it was mostly gold-plated, one leg had obviously been replaced, since it had a titanium sheen.
"What are you doing here?" her father asked.
"I live here, remember?"
"Don't be smart with me. Why are you home so early?"
Brenna scooped up a couple of nuts from the dish her father kept by his computer and tossed one up in the air as she talked. "I decided—" she paused just long enough to catch the nut in her mouth, and talked around it. "—that I could learn more at home than at school. Where'd the new 'droid come from? It's a 3PO unit, isn't it? C-class, if I'm not mistaken."
Threepio turned his attention from R2-D2 to Brenna. "Why, yes, Miss. I am C-3PO, human-cyborg relations."
"You're programmed for protocol?"
"Yes, Miss. I am fluent in over six million forms of communication. I must say, it is rare to find an individual who can identify my make and model so quickly, and with such precision."
"Yeah, yeah," Brenna said, then looked at her father. "What's it doing here?"
Brenna's father sighed. "He brought a message from a friend of mine."
What sort of message?"
"Nothing to concern you."
"It seems to know the Artoo unit."
"Yes, they worked together some time ago."
"I heard the 'droid talk about your friend Wedge as if he were still alive."
"Did he? Perhaps he is, then." Her father ran a hand through his hair. "Listen, Bren. This message is from an old friend who asked me for a favor, to look after her children for a while. Two of them are about your own age, so you should enjoy their company while they're here."
"Why are they coming?"
"That doesn't concern you."
"Doesn't concern me?" Brenna laughed. "Don't you think I have a right to know who comes into my life? Who my own father is? Who I am?" She looked at Threepio for a moment, then turned to her father. "You know what I think?" she asked.
"Brenna, I really don't—"
"I think," Brenna went on, ignoring the interruption, "that your friend Wedge is dead now, but that he was alive when that 'droid was sent with its message. I think he died last night, around the time of your 'attack.'"
Her father locked eyes with her. "You don't need to worry about it, Bren. All you need to worry about is passing the Academy's entrance exam."
Brenna held the lock. "And what name do I put on the application, Dad? Brenna Owens...or Brenna Skywalker?"
Her father didn't move or speak for a long moment. Nor did he break eye contact. There was no reaction whatsoever. Finally, he said, still not breaking eye contact, "I don't know what you're talking about."
Brenna got a funny feeling, like his words were trying to press in on her and make her believe they were true. They didn't penetrate. She was just aware that they were pushing against her, that was all. She pushed back, knowing that she was right. "No? Luke Skywalker was the New Republican hero who destroyed the first Imperial Death Star in the Battle of Yavin. Guess where his homeworld is."
Her father pressed harder. "I've heard of Skywalker. I've also heard that he came from this area. But you're imagining things if you think I'm him."
Brenna laughed, both at her father's words and his attempt to make her believe what he was saying. "Am I? Then I suppose the Force is just a figment of my imagination, too."
"As a matter of fact—"
"And if it's all in my imagination, then it really doesn't matter if I do this."
Brenna closed her eyes. She had never done this before, but she had once read about the Jedi mind-probes. If it could be done, then she was sure she could do it. She sent out a thought-tentacle, to touch a Force-stream and follow it to its source. It was...exhilarating, like guiding a skyhopper at breakneck speed down Beggar's Canyon, like she imagined swimming in white-water to be, yet at the same time, there was something intrusive about it. Intrusive and exciting. She pushed on, into faster-deeper water, but just before the thought-probe penetrated beyond the most superficial of layers of her father's mind, she felt his mind push back on hers.
Brenna, stop!
Her father's unspoken thoughts warned of currents and undertows that could suck her in without warning. Brenna hesitated, then turned back to the more solid footing of her objective senses.
She opened her eyes. "It's true, then."
"Brenna—"
She gave another laugh. "You know, I thought that the stabilizer locked back into place a little too easily, there in Beggar's Canyon. You were the greatest of them all, weren't you? You trained the others. Wedge Antilles, Nor Heden, Solin Tomm, Marck Decker—all of them! You were the only one who disappeared for months on end, each time one of the others vanished for that same time period. And all this time, I thought you were a non-sensitive!"
"Brenna, listen—"
"Oh, you bet I will. I've got some questions I want to hear the answers to. I want to know who my mother was. I want to know who you are, for that matter, and I don't mean the kind of thing that's printed in the public access files. I want to know who sent the message. I want to know everything there is to know about the Jedi Knights. And I want to know a lot of other things, too. But let's start with the answer to 'Why didn't you tell me?'"
Luke ran his hands through his hair. He had always known there was a possibility that Brenna would find out, and now that she knew, he would have to tell her everything. But now was not the time. "Brenna, I can't... explain everything right now. That message is nearly three days old, which means Lucy and Rupert and Poul could arrive at Mos Eisley at any time. I have to go meet them. You'll be safer staying here, but I want you to promise me that you won't use the Force while I'm gone."
Brenna laughed. "I'll do no such thing!" she said.
"Brenna, listen to me. The woman who sent the message—she's my sister, and your aunt."
"I have an aunt?" Brenna echoed incredulously. "There was no record of Luke Skywalker ever having a sister."
"There never was an official record. Leia and I were separated at birth. She and her three children—"
"—Senator Leia Organa-Solo?" Brenna queried.
"Yes. Your cousins are in danger right now, and she's sent them here for protection. You see, Bren, I will tell you everything, but right now I have to see to their safe arrival. I want you to promise not to toy with the Force while I'm gone. We'll talk when I get back, I promise."
Brenna hesitated, then considered her father's wording carefully. After all, he had just promised to tell her everything. "All right," she said finally. "I promise not to...'toy' with the Force, as you say. I won't go skyhopping down Beggar's Canyon, or otherwise use it unnecessarily. Not until you get back, anyway."
Luke sighed at the underlying meaning. But the promise she had given would have to be enough, at least for the time being, and until he could explain to her the reasons why she dared not use the Force, he supposed it was the best he could hope for.
But there was one more thing. "Brenna…don't leave the compound unless there's an emergency. Not to go to school, not to visit your friends, not for any reason whatsoever. It has the best security system money can buy. The man who killed Wedge is an old enemy of mine. If he finds you…I don't want to think about it. He'll hurt me, through you. Do you understand?"
Brenna shrugged. "Sure," she said.
-----
Chapter Eight
The security system alerted Brenna that someone was outside the compound. She switched on the monitor and saw that it was a single person, a girl about her own age, with dark hair. There was a rental speeder nearby, but nothing besides and no one else.
Brenna switched on the audio. "Yes?"
"I'm looking for Ben Owens," the girl said.
"He's not here."
"Please, could you put me in contact with him? It's very important."
"Who are you?"
"Lucienne Solo."
Brenna switched off the audio and looked at the gold human-size 'droid beside her. "Is that true?"
"Oh, yes." Threepio said. "She certainly looks like Mistress Lucy, anyway."
Brenna hit the switch to open the gate, and ran outside. She met Lucy as the speeder pulled to a stop and Lucy got out. The gate automatically closed behind her.
"There are supposed to be four of you," Brenna said to her visitor. "And you're supposed to go to Mos Eisley. That's where my Dad went, to meet you."
"There was an accident. Or not an accident, but an explosion. My younger brother was hurt, and Chewbacca took him in the other pod to get medical help. Our ship was crippled. My other brother was going to try to land. I don't know how either one of them are. That's why I need to find Ben Owens right away!"
"Well, like I said, he's in Mos Eisley looking for you. You were supposed to go there first. I'm his daughter, Brenna. I'm your cousin, I guess. How did you find us?"
"I programmed the escape pod to take me to Anchorhead, asked around for where you lived, and rented this speeder."
"You said there was an explosion? What sort of 'explosion'?"
"Rupert thinks it was a bomb set to go off when we landed and were deboarding, but Poul must have triggered it accidentally when he was playing with the airlock."
Brenna looked at her. "Let me get this straight. Your parents sent you here because they thought somebody was after you, and you didn't do a security sweep of the ship before you took off? I can't believe I could possibly be related to someone that stupid."
Lucy was annoyed. "Well, of course we did a security sweep. It tested clean."
"You're sure."
"I'm positive."
"Well, then, I think you should get a new security system." Brenna's expression turned thoughtful. "You know, if the ship tested clean for bombs, it could have tested clean for tracking devices. And if you took the escape pod to Anchorhead…" She turned abruptly and headed for her sleeping quarters.
"What is it?" Lucy asked, trying to catch up. "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to pack. We've got to get out of here. There are a lot of loose tongues in Anchorhead, and with you renting a speeder and asking everyone 'Where does Ben Owens live?'' anyone in the galaxy could track you. Besides which—" she stood still for a moment, listening to some inner voice, then nodded. "Besides which, I've got a bad feeling about staying here."
.
.
.
Luke paced around the spaceport in agitation. Leia's kids were late, and he had a bad feeling about the whole thing. Every time a ship came in, he checked the registry and got a visual, just in case Han had decided to change the registry without telling him.
He didn't like leaving Brenna alone. He wanted to get back to the complex and make sure she was all right. Not that he thought she'd do anything stupid, but she didn't have a clue what Etan Lippa was like.
As he walked back and forth from one end of the spaceport to the other, he reviewed his options yet again. He could stay here and continue waiting, which was the most logical choice. There was a good probability that the Falcon, as old as she was, just couldn't handle a journey of that distance in the same amount of time as she used to travel. He could return to Anchorhead, of course, but the better choice was to stay here, and intercept the kids as soon as they arrived. He would contact Brenna again in another hour or so, for what little reassurance that would offer, but as of the last time he spoke with her, about two hours ago, all seemed to be well at home. She seemed a little annoyed at the frequency of his checks on her, but she'd get over it.
He glanced through a docking bay window at a new ship that had arrived since his last lap in the spaceport, but it wasn't the Falcon. Leia's message had specifically said they were sending the kids on the Falcon, and that they would go on to Anchorhead only if Luke didn't meet them in Mos Eisley. Luke continued on, reached the end of the spaceport, turned around, and walked back the way he had come.
He was about to look through the window of a docking bay that had been empty on his last pass, just to make sure it was still empty, when something made him want to turn the other way, towards the street entrance of the spaceport. He turned, and the big, hairy figure was hard to miss.
"Chewie," he breathed in relief.
He walked up to the Wookiee already heading towards him.
Chewbacca growled a greeting in his native tongue, and wrapped his huge arms around the friend he hadn't seen in far too many years. Luke returned the hug briefly, then pulled away.
"Where are the kids?" he asked.
Luke had a little bit of difficulty interpreting the answer—it had been quite a number of years since he'd last heard the Wookiee language—but he got the gist of it, and his short-lived relief vanished.
"If Lucy's gone to Anchorhead," he said, "I've got to warn Brenna." He pulled his communicator off his belt, pressed the button for home, and waited for Brenna to pick up.
After a few minutes, Luke shook his head. "She's not answering. Something's wrong. I've got to get home."
Chewbacca rumbled a question.
"No," Luke said. "Stay with Poul. I'll get Lucy and Brenna and come back and find you and Poul. Where are you staying?"
The answer almost made Luke laugh. Only Chewbacca would have kidnapped a doctor to tend to Poul's injuries rather than take Poul to a hospital, where a huge furry Wookiee would be hard to miss, and easily identifiable, making Poul easy to find as well. Under the circumstances, however, Luke couldn't help but agree. He felt sorry for the doctor, whom Chewie had apparently left tied up to a chair in his own house, but Luke agreed that it was a better option than taking Poul to a hospital. Poul had suffered a concussion, but was recovering. He'd be fit enough to travel in a day or two. Chewie promised to compensate the doctor nicely for his lost days at work.
"All right. I'll be back as soon as I can." He gave Chewie another brief hug, which was returned in nearly bone-crushing strength, and then headed for home.
The security system alerted Brenna that someone was outside the compound. She switched on the monitor and saw that it was a single person, a girl about her own age, with dark hair. There was a rental speeder nearby, but nothing besides and no one else.
Brenna switched on the audio. "Yes?"
"I'm looking for Ben Owens," the girl said.
"He's not here."
"Please, could you put me in contact with him? It's very important."
"Who are you?"
"Lucienne Solo."
Brenna switched off the audio and looked at the gold human-size 'droid beside her. "Is that true?"
"Oh, yes." Threepio said. "She certainly looks like Mistress Lucy, anyway."
Brenna hit the switch to open the gate, and ran outside. She met Lucy as the speeder pulled to a stop and Lucy got out. The gate automatically closed behind her.
"There are supposed to be four of you," Brenna said to her visitor. "And you're supposed to go to Mos Eisley. That's where my Dad went, to meet you."
"There was an accident. Or not an accident, but an explosion. My younger brother was hurt, and Chewbacca took him in the other pod to get medical help. Our ship was crippled. My other brother was going to try to land. I don't know how either one of them are. That's why I need to find Ben Owens right away!"
"Well, like I said, he's in Mos Eisley looking for you. You were supposed to go there first. I'm his daughter, Brenna. I'm your cousin, I guess. How did you find us?"
"I programmed the escape pod to take me to Anchorhead, asked around for where you lived, and rented this speeder."
"You said there was an explosion? What sort of 'explosion'?"
"Rupert thinks it was a bomb set to go off when we landed and were deboarding, but Poul must have triggered it accidentally when he was playing with the airlock."
Brenna looked at her. "Let me get this straight. Your parents sent you here because they thought somebody was after you, and you didn't do a security sweep of the ship before you took off? I can't believe I could possibly be related to someone that stupid."
Lucy was annoyed. "Well, of course we did a security sweep. It tested clean."
"You're sure."
"I'm positive."
"Well, then, I think you should get a new security system." Brenna's expression turned thoughtful. "You know, if the ship tested clean for bombs, it could have tested clean for tracking devices. And if you took the escape pod to Anchorhead…" She turned abruptly and headed for her sleeping quarters.
"What is it?" Lucy asked, trying to catch up. "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to pack. We've got to get out of here. There are a lot of loose tongues in Anchorhead, and with you renting a speeder and asking everyone 'Where does Ben Owens live?'' anyone in the galaxy could track you. Besides which—" she stood still for a moment, listening to some inner voice, then nodded. "Besides which, I've got a bad feeling about staying here."
.
.
.
Luke paced around the spaceport in agitation. Leia's kids were late, and he had a bad feeling about the whole thing. Every time a ship came in, he checked the registry and got a visual, just in case Han had decided to change the registry without telling him.
He didn't like leaving Brenna alone. He wanted to get back to the complex and make sure she was all right. Not that he thought she'd do anything stupid, but she didn't have a clue what Etan Lippa was like.
As he walked back and forth from one end of the spaceport to the other, he reviewed his options yet again. He could stay here and continue waiting, which was the most logical choice. There was a good probability that the Falcon, as old as she was, just couldn't handle a journey of that distance in the same amount of time as she used to travel. He could return to Anchorhead, of course, but the better choice was to stay here, and intercept the kids as soon as they arrived. He would contact Brenna again in another hour or so, for what little reassurance that would offer, but as of the last time he spoke with her, about two hours ago, all seemed to be well at home. She seemed a little annoyed at the frequency of his checks on her, but she'd get over it.
He glanced through a docking bay window at a new ship that had arrived since his last lap in the spaceport, but it wasn't the Falcon. Leia's message had specifically said they were sending the kids on the Falcon, and that they would go on to Anchorhead only if Luke didn't meet them in Mos Eisley. Luke continued on, reached the end of the spaceport, turned around, and walked back the way he had come.
He was about to look through the window of a docking bay that had been empty on his last pass, just to make sure it was still empty, when something made him want to turn the other way, towards the street entrance of the spaceport. He turned, and the big, hairy figure was hard to miss.
"Chewie," he breathed in relief.
He walked up to the Wookiee already heading towards him.
Chewbacca growled a greeting in his native tongue, and wrapped his huge arms around the friend he hadn't seen in far too many years. Luke returned the hug briefly, then pulled away.
"Where are the kids?" he asked.
Luke had a little bit of difficulty interpreting the answer—it had been quite a number of years since he'd last heard the Wookiee language—but he got the gist of it, and his short-lived relief vanished.
"If Lucy's gone to Anchorhead," he said, "I've got to warn Brenna." He pulled his communicator off his belt, pressed the button for home, and waited for Brenna to pick up.
After a few minutes, Luke shook his head. "She's not answering. Something's wrong. I've got to get home."
Chewbacca rumbled a question.
"No," Luke said. "Stay with Poul. I'll get Lucy and Brenna and come back and find you and Poul. Where are you staying?"
The answer almost made Luke laugh. Only Chewbacca would have kidnapped a doctor to tend to Poul's injuries rather than take Poul to a hospital, where a huge furry Wookiee would be hard to miss, and easily identifiable, making Poul easy to find as well. Under the circumstances, however, Luke couldn't help but agree. He felt sorry for the doctor, whom Chewie had apparently left tied up to a chair in his own house, but Luke agreed that it was a better option than taking Poul to a hospital. Poul had suffered a concussion, but was recovering. He'd be fit enough to travel in a day or two. Chewie promised to compensate the doctor nicely for his lost days at work.
"All right. I'll be back as soon as I can." He gave Chewie another brief hug, which was returned in nearly bone-crushing strength, and then headed for home.
-----
Chapter Nine
From the folds of his robe, Luke withdrew the lightsaber that had remained unused for most of Brenna's lifetime, and approached the ruins of his homestead cautiously. He flattened himself against the wall next to the door of the living area, took a quick peek inside. Nothing. He saw nothing, felt nothing. He went to the sleeping quarters next. Except for the charred remains of furniture and bedding, Brenna's room was empty, his own likewise. He started for the kitchen, with the intention of doing a systematic search of the rest of the premises, when a noise from the garage caught his attention, and he followed the sound to its source.
A quick peek showed him who the intruder was, and with a sigh, he put the lightsaber away, grateful that it was destined to go one more day without being used, but still concerned about his missing daughter. Then he stepped into the garage.
"Hello, Han," he said to the man picking his way around the rubble.
The intruder whirled, his hand moving to his blaster. He was fast—not quite as fast as he used to be, but he could still outdraw many a younger man. Fortunately, Han's wits were also still intact, and he shoved the blaster back into his holster without firing.
"Luke!" he said. Then he let out a breath of relief. "What the Hell happened here? And where are the kids?"
"I was hoping," Luke said dryly, "that you were someone who could tell me."
Han's expression changed from relief to worry again. "You mean you don't know?"
"It's okay, Han. I think I'd know if Brenna were in trouble."
"That's fine for you, but what about my brood?"
"They got separated. Some sort of explosion on the Falcon. Bomb, possibly. I saw Chewie in Mos Eisley. Poul was hurt, but he'll be okay. Chewbacca's with him now. Rupert is supposed to meet me in Mos Eisley. Lucy was on her way here, but she wasn't here when this happened."
"How do you know?" Han asked.
"No bodies," Luke told him.
Han was silent for a moment, then looked about the ruined garage. "So where the Hell are they?"
"I don't know, remember? Now it's your turn to answer something for me. Where's Leia? Why didn't you bring her with you?"
Han didn't look at him. "Luke...I think she's dead. She...disappeared, along with Wedge."
Luke frowned. "I didn't sense anything from her." He closed his eyes for a moment. Then he said, "She's alive."
Han whirled to face him, hope lighting his face.
Luke continued. "But she's not answering me. I don't know why not."
"Wedge—?" Han began.
"Wedge is dead," Luke told him. "So are all of the others. Tortured. But I don't think Etan Lippa knows about the relationship between Leia and me. That may be the only thing keeping her alive."
Han let out a long breath. Then a sudden thought struck him, and his expression became concerned. "Luke, she wasn't...?"
"No, Han. I’m pretty sure I'd know if she were tortured. Her disappearance probably fits into the pattern of the other missing senators, not the Jedi Knights. None of the senators really knew any secrets that would have helped Lippa, so whatever his purpose was in kidnapping Leia, torture may not be in his plans."
"Well, that's good, I suppose. You think it has something to do with the New Constitution?"
"That'd be my guess."
Han thought about that for a moment. Then he snapped his fingers as he remembered what he wanted to tell his friend. "Luke, you're not going to believe this, but when I left Coruscant, there was an Imperial Star-Destroyer in orbit over the planet."
Luke stared at him. "A Star-Destroyer? The last one was turned into space-rubble at Deraan Two."
"That's what everyone thought. But I'm telling you what I saw with my own eyes. It jumped into hyperspace just after I saw it."
They both fell silent for a long moment, both wishing the reunion were taking place under better circumstances. Then Han broke the silence again.
"Well, what do we do now?"
"We find our kids," Luke said, then began peeling rubble away from what used to be a wall.
Han paled. "I thought you said there were no bodies," he said.
"There aren't," Luke assured him. "But Brenna would have left me a message if she could. The trick is to find it."
Han jerked a thumb towards a pile of debris. "I saw the Artoo unit back there, buried beneath some old fire blankets."
"Blasted?"
"Looked more like it was turned off, to me."
Luke smiled. "I think I may be able to find where the kids went, after all..."
.
.
.
As Rupert passed through the southern sector of the city, the breeze carried the smells of a nearby meat vendor to him. He felt the familiar mouth-watering sensations, the hunger which seemed to come straight from his soul, even though he had just eaten before he left the ship. He felt as if he were starving, like a homeless animal living off scraps from the street.
He forced himself not to hurry, not to stop.
A woman, or maybe it was a girl—it was hard to see through the cosmetics—beckoned to him from an open doorway. Again, he felt mixed desires. He didn't really think she was his type—whatever that was—but the urge pressed in around him. On its heels was the familiar fear. Fear of being consumed, of not being able to break loose from the passions.
Again he passed by, neither slowly nor quickly.
It helped to have a goal to think about, a purpose for being on the streets. The stirrings now were not as strong as they sometimes were, like the times when his mother had tried to take the family to planets less developed than Coruscant for vacations, what Rupert called the "green" planets. Those were the worst. But even Coruscant had its bad moments. There were times when he felt himself barely under control, and he had to stay in control. Otherwise, it would be like letting a hungry kaleem run loose in a field of grazing muzzi.
Those who noticed Rupert as he passed saw only a calm, purposeful young man. But Rupert himself felt like a walking time-bomb. It was only a matter of time before he cracked. He knew it. He hadn't told his parents because he didn't want them to worry. There would only be more doctors, more testing, more drugs that he didn't want. When Wedge had come, Rupert had thought there might be hope. Wedge had believed him, had talked to him, helped him through one of his attacks. Wedge had taught him how to meditate, had given him a mantra, of sorts, that helped lessen the closing in, the pressure from outside. If it hadn't been for Wedge, Rupert wouldn't have been able to make this walk into Mos Eisley. But Wedge was gone now. Rupert didn't know how he knew, but he knew. He hadn't felt Wedge's death the way Luke had, but he knew Wedge was gone nonetheless.
There were some things he needed to pick up in Mos Eisley, supplies for the ship, before going to the cantina to see if Ben Owens was there yet. Nothing major, nothing really traceable, just a lot of nuts and bolts and sealant. He could cannibalize pieces of bulkhead from the cargo holds, and the parts he needed to fix the stabilizer were common enough. What he needed most was time, and a little help from Chewbacca with lifting the heavy bulkhead sections, once he had cut them out. He hoped Poul was all right. He hoped Lucy had made it to the Owens’ farm without incident. He focused on those hopes, which he recognized as his own, as Wedge had tried to teach him to do.
It helped, a little. The smells of the meat, the feeling of hunger, the animal lust faded a little. They became bearable.
He found the supplies he needed, paid for them in cash, and made his way to the cantina. There was an empty table just inside the shadows, and he squeezed his way past a crew from a freighter to get to it. The freighters were in need of a bath, and their odor carried to Rupert at the table. He was unusually sensitive to odors. Some he liked, like his mother's smell mixed with the perfume which she was careful not to wear too much of, or the smell of his father after a hard game of skeetball. Those were familiar, comfortable odors. He liked Poul's smell, too, and Lucy's—although Lucy was likely to change perfumes as frequently as she changed dress, and he wished she would be a little less liberal in the amount of scent she wore—but the smell that was distinctly her somehow always managed to come through. The freighters, on the other hand, had a sour, rancid odor about them, and were long overdue for a bath and a change of clothes.
Rupert ignored them as best he could, and ordered a glass of water from the bartender who came to take his order and who smelled nearly as bad as the freighters. Since on Tatooine water actually cost the same as the hard drinks, the bartender didn't balk. Rupert gave him a coin to pay for it, and the humanoid who had brought him his glass of water left him alone.
Rupert sipped from his glass and tried surreptitiously to study the other customers. One of the customers began staring at him. Rupert followed the gaze to his lapels, which bore only one insignia. Rupert turned away and removed the odd insignia that he still wore. No insignia attracted less attention than one insignia, and he didn't want to attract attention. If he needed to show it, he could always pull it out of his pocket. Then he settled down to wait.
From the folds of his robe, Luke withdrew the lightsaber that had remained unused for most of Brenna's lifetime, and approached the ruins of his homestead cautiously. He flattened himself against the wall next to the door of the living area, took a quick peek inside. Nothing. He saw nothing, felt nothing. He went to the sleeping quarters next. Except for the charred remains of furniture and bedding, Brenna's room was empty, his own likewise. He started for the kitchen, with the intention of doing a systematic search of the rest of the premises, when a noise from the garage caught his attention, and he followed the sound to its source.
A quick peek showed him who the intruder was, and with a sigh, he put the lightsaber away, grateful that it was destined to go one more day without being used, but still concerned about his missing daughter. Then he stepped into the garage.
"Hello, Han," he said to the man picking his way around the rubble.
The intruder whirled, his hand moving to his blaster. He was fast—not quite as fast as he used to be, but he could still outdraw many a younger man. Fortunately, Han's wits were also still intact, and he shoved the blaster back into his holster without firing.
"Luke!" he said. Then he let out a breath of relief. "What the Hell happened here? And where are the kids?"
"I was hoping," Luke said dryly, "that you were someone who could tell me."
Han's expression changed from relief to worry again. "You mean you don't know?"
"It's okay, Han. I think I'd know if Brenna were in trouble."
"That's fine for you, but what about my brood?"
"They got separated. Some sort of explosion on the Falcon. Bomb, possibly. I saw Chewie in Mos Eisley. Poul was hurt, but he'll be okay. Chewbacca's with him now. Rupert is supposed to meet me in Mos Eisley. Lucy was on her way here, but she wasn't here when this happened."
"How do you know?" Han asked.
"No bodies," Luke told him.
Han was silent for a moment, then looked about the ruined garage. "So where the Hell are they?"
"I don't know, remember? Now it's your turn to answer something for me. Where's Leia? Why didn't you bring her with you?"
Han didn't look at him. "Luke...I think she's dead. She...disappeared, along with Wedge."
Luke frowned. "I didn't sense anything from her." He closed his eyes for a moment. Then he said, "She's alive."
Han whirled to face him, hope lighting his face.
Luke continued. "But she's not answering me. I don't know why not."
"Wedge—?" Han began.
"Wedge is dead," Luke told him. "So are all of the others. Tortured. But I don't think Etan Lippa knows about the relationship between Leia and me. That may be the only thing keeping her alive."
Han let out a long breath. Then a sudden thought struck him, and his expression became concerned. "Luke, she wasn't...?"
"No, Han. I’m pretty sure I'd know if she were tortured. Her disappearance probably fits into the pattern of the other missing senators, not the Jedi Knights. None of the senators really knew any secrets that would have helped Lippa, so whatever his purpose was in kidnapping Leia, torture may not be in his plans."
"Well, that's good, I suppose. You think it has something to do with the New Constitution?"
"That'd be my guess."
Han thought about that for a moment. Then he snapped his fingers as he remembered what he wanted to tell his friend. "Luke, you're not going to believe this, but when I left Coruscant, there was an Imperial Star-Destroyer in orbit over the planet."
Luke stared at him. "A Star-Destroyer? The last one was turned into space-rubble at Deraan Two."
"That's what everyone thought. But I'm telling you what I saw with my own eyes. It jumped into hyperspace just after I saw it."
They both fell silent for a long moment, both wishing the reunion were taking place under better circumstances. Then Han broke the silence again.
"Well, what do we do now?"
"We find our kids," Luke said, then began peeling rubble away from what used to be a wall.
Han paled. "I thought you said there were no bodies," he said.
"There aren't," Luke assured him. "But Brenna would have left me a message if she could. The trick is to find it."
Han jerked a thumb towards a pile of debris. "I saw the Artoo unit back there, buried beneath some old fire blankets."
"Blasted?"
"Looked more like it was turned off, to me."
Luke smiled. "I think I may be able to find where the kids went, after all..."
.
.
.
As Rupert passed through the southern sector of the city, the breeze carried the smells of a nearby meat vendor to him. He felt the familiar mouth-watering sensations, the hunger which seemed to come straight from his soul, even though he had just eaten before he left the ship. He felt as if he were starving, like a homeless animal living off scraps from the street.
He forced himself not to hurry, not to stop.
A woman, or maybe it was a girl—it was hard to see through the cosmetics—beckoned to him from an open doorway. Again, he felt mixed desires. He didn't really think she was his type—whatever that was—but the urge pressed in around him. On its heels was the familiar fear. Fear of being consumed, of not being able to break loose from the passions.
Again he passed by, neither slowly nor quickly.
It helped to have a goal to think about, a purpose for being on the streets. The stirrings now were not as strong as they sometimes were, like the times when his mother had tried to take the family to planets less developed than Coruscant for vacations, what Rupert called the "green" planets. Those were the worst. But even Coruscant had its bad moments. There were times when he felt himself barely under control, and he had to stay in control. Otherwise, it would be like letting a hungry kaleem run loose in a field of grazing muzzi.
Those who noticed Rupert as he passed saw only a calm, purposeful young man. But Rupert himself felt like a walking time-bomb. It was only a matter of time before he cracked. He knew it. He hadn't told his parents because he didn't want them to worry. There would only be more doctors, more testing, more drugs that he didn't want. When Wedge had come, Rupert had thought there might be hope. Wedge had believed him, had talked to him, helped him through one of his attacks. Wedge had taught him how to meditate, had given him a mantra, of sorts, that helped lessen the closing in, the pressure from outside. If it hadn't been for Wedge, Rupert wouldn't have been able to make this walk into Mos Eisley. But Wedge was gone now. Rupert didn't know how he knew, but he knew. He hadn't felt Wedge's death the way Luke had, but he knew Wedge was gone nonetheless.
There were some things he needed to pick up in Mos Eisley, supplies for the ship, before going to the cantina to see if Ben Owens was there yet. Nothing major, nothing really traceable, just a lot of nuts and bolts and sealant. He could cannibalize pieces of bulkhead from the cargo holds, and the parts he needed to fix the stabilizer were common enough. What he needed most was time, and a little help from Chewbacca with lifting the heavy bulkhead sections, once he had cut them out. He hoped Poul was all right. He hoped Lucy had made it to the Owens’ farm without incident. He focused on those hopes, which he recognized as his own, as Wedge had tried to teach him to do.
It helped, a little. The smells of the meat, the feeling of hunger, the animal lust faded a little. They became bearable.
He found the supplies he needed, paid for them in cash, and made his way to the cantina. There was an empty table just inside the shadows, and he squeezed his way past a crew from a freighter to get to it. The freighters were in need of a bath, and their odor carried to Rupert at the table. He was unusually sensitive to odors. Some he liked, like his mother's smell mixed with the perfume which she was careful not to wear too much of, or the smell of his father after a hard game of skeetball. Those were familiar, comfortable odors. He liked Poul's smell, too, and Lucy's—although Lucy was likely to change perfumes as frequently as she changed dress, and he wished she would be a little less liberal in the amount of scent she wore—but the smell that was distinctly her somehow always managed to come through. The freighters, on the other hand, had a sour, rancid odor about them, and were long overdue for a bath and a change of clothes.
Rupert ignored them as best he could, and ordered a glass of water from the bartender who came to take his order and who smelled nearly as bad as the freighters. Since on Tatooine water actually cost the same as the hard drinks, the bartender didn't balk. Rupert gave him a coin to pay for it, and the humanoid who had brought him his glass of water left him alone.
Rupert sipped from his glass and tried surreptitiously to study the other customers. One of the customers began staring at him. Rupert followed the gaze to his lapels, which bore only one insignia. Rupert turned away and removed the odd insignia that he still wore. No insignia attracted less attention than one insignia, and he didn't want to attract attention. If he needed to show it, he could always pull it out of his pocket. Then he settled down to wait.
-----
Chapter Ten
Brenna found the cantina without much difficulty. She had convinced Lucy that if someone had planted a bomb on their ship, then it was best if Lucy not show her face, so Brenna was the most logical one to go. Brenna looked at the cantina from the outside for a moment—nothing much, just your basic hole-in-the-ground. Like all the others on Tatooine, it was partly below ground to take advantage of whatever natural cooling it could.
She descended the steps.
It was dim inside, but not completely dark, thanks to the flashy, garish lighting arrangement. She was aware of The Fear clawing at her, but it didn't overtake her. Fortunately, on Tatooine, places like this did a good portion of their business during the day, when freighters and pilots were looking for a way to beat the heat of Tatooine's twin suns or arrange shipping contracts. It was hard to imagine that her father had ever gone into a place like this, but somehow, at this moment, it felt natural for Brenna to be here.
Coming in from the bright suns outside, it was hard to see just who was inside. On this side of the bar, there were several clusters of patrons, but she could make out only three who were alone. One was sitting alone at a booth. Brenna studied him casually. No, too old. The two others were sitting at the bar. One turned slightly, and she was able to see his face. Humanoid, but not what she was looking for. That left the third one sitting at the bar, facing away from her. She couldn't see his face, but from what little she could see, the description fit. She walked towards the bar.
As she approached a couple of tables filled with freighters wearing identical uniforms and insignias with the same ship's marking, several of them whistled. Brenna favored them with a brief smile as she started to pass between the tables. One of them, a humanoid with protruding brow-ridges, reached out and grabbed her arm. "How 'bout it, Missy? You an' me?"
Brenna turned to the freighter and smiled again. "Sorry, friend, it's not for sale." She started forward again, but the humanoid didn't release his hold. "I said, it's not for sale," she repeated. She jerked her wrist free and turned away.
The freighter grabbed her arm again. "I never said I was buyin'," he leered, pulling her back towards him. "In fact, I was thinkin' you should give it to me for free."
The man apparently couldn't take 'no' for an answer. Brenna brought the edge of her free hand down in a hard chop on the man's arm. He screamed and let go, his arm bent at a funny angle, and Brenna turned to the bar once again.
The freighter's mates, about half a dozen of them, human and humanoid mixture, stood up and blocked her way.
Brenna sighed. She could wait outside for Rupert to emerge, and avoid a fight. As a general rule, she disliked fighting. "I don't suppose I wanted a drink that badly," she said. "I'll come back after the place has been fumigated." She turned to leave, but one of the freighters grabbed her right wrist again. She started to deliver another side-hand chop, but her left wrist was grabbed from the other side by one of the humanoids.
It was not exactly fair odds, but the freighters didn't know it yet. Even her father couldn't object to her using the Force in a situation like this. Brenna was just about to summon it when a hand fell on one of her captor's wrists. It belonged to someone who had come up from behind her, from somewhere inside the cantina. Brenna turned and saw that the 'someone' was a pleasant-looking young man with dark hair and dark eyes. He seemed to fit Lucy's description of Rupert, but this was not exactly the time to ask. She wondered how she had missed him earlier.
He was nice looking, though.
"The lady," he said, "does not appear to be interested."
Brenna glanced towards the other man who might be Rupert, the one at the bar. He seemed to be watching the scene with interest, but made no move to intervene.
Brenna's wannabe rescuer seemed to know about pressure points, because he squeezed, and the freighter's hand opened up to release Brenna's arm. Brenna pulled the other one free from the humanoid.
"You'd better get out of here, Miss," the man said, not taking his eyes off the freighters, "and send for the authorities."
"What, and miss all the fun?" Brenna asked. "Besides, this is Mos Eisley. There are no authorities."
The first swing came from the freighter whose wrist the young man had forced open. It was aimed at the young man's face. He ducked it and returned a blow to the freighter’s stomach, then whirled to face the four other freighters who tried to rush him simultaneously.
Brenna could have sworn she heard him growling.
One other freighter came towards her. She dispatched him with a knee to the groin, then turned to see how her temporary partner was faring.
One-on-one, he could probably have held his own, but four-on-one was a bit much for him. He was fighting like an animal, more with instinct than with brains. Nevertheless, he had had managed to knock one freighter down before he was caught and held by two others, and a third was pulling back for a punch. Brenna concentrated on the last one, and the man's fist stopped in mid-delivery, then opened up and flew to his throat as he felt his windpipe being restricted. She took care of another by breaking the freighter's collarbone with the side of her hand. That left two: the one holding onto the other side of her rescuer, and the one on the floor who was just getting up.
"No blasters!" the bartender yelled. "No blasters!"
The shout alerted Brenna, and she turned to see the freighter whose collarbone she had fractured raise a blaster in the direction of the young man. She concentrated, and a glass from the table flew into the side of his face. She followed up by grabbing one of the half-empty glasses still sitting on the table and tossing the contents into the freighter's eyes. He howled and covered his eyes with his hands. The first freighter, the humanoid whose arm she had broken, was also reaching for his weapon with his good hand, although a little awkwardly. Brenna smiled and picked up the blaster his partner had just dropped and pointed it at him. The humanoid dropped his.
Brenna glanced back and saw that her rescuer had somehow taken care of the two freighters that had been left; there were now two bloodied lumps on the floor, which Brenna was gratified to note were still breathing. The young man quickly wiped the blood off his nose with the back of his hand and glanced around to see if there were any more to be taken care of. He was still making a snarling noise deep in his throat when he saw the last one standing, the one Brenna had her gun trained on, the one who had started this whole mess. The young man turned his attention to the freighter with fire in his eyes, and a snarl curling his mouth, and there was no doubt but that he intended to do unnecessary bodily harm to the freighter. "Oh, Hell," Brenna murmured. She twisted the dial on the gun to 'stun,' and shot the spacer.
For a moment, her partner-in-fight seemed confused at having his foe suddenly collapse. Then he turned to Brenna, saw the gun, and a second later his eyes cleared. "Yes, that's better," he said, but not so much to Brenna as to himself. Brenna bent to pick up the blasters that had been dropped in fight, and quickly searched the moaning and unconscious forms on the floor until she had collected six blasters. One of the humanoid freighters had pilot's insignias on his collar. On a mischievous impulse, Brenna pulled one off and pocketed it. Then she took off her desert robe, laid the blasters in it, and wrapped them up.
"Out!" the bartender said. "Get out!"
Her rescuer used his hand to wipe at his bloodied nose again, then wiped his bloodied hand on his pants before taking Brenna's arm lightly. "Come on," he said.
Brenna didn't argue, and they went out of the cantina into the white-bright street.
"Are you all right, Miss?" he asked, once they were outside.
Brenna smiled. "I'm fine. I'm even a few blasters richer for the experience. Want one?"
"No, thanks," said the young man. He glanced backwards at the cantina, then took Brenna's arm again and walked with her down the street. "This is not exactly the safest place for a young woman to go alone."
"I can handle myself." She looked at the young man's collar. No pilot's insignia. Damn.
"I wouldn't bet on it against a pack like that mob," he replied. "Where do you live? I'll walk you home."
Brenna smiled again. "There's no 'home' to go to. But thank you for the offer."
He stopped and looked at her. "You don't have any place to stay?"
"Oh, I didn't say that. I just said that I didn't have a home any more. Not that I miss the one I did have all that much." She glanced back towards the cantina then looked back at the young man. Insignia or no insignia, she was still on a mission. There was still a chance that this was Rupert. If he was Rupert, they'd be first-cousins, which would be a damn shame. He was rather attractive. And his willingness to come to her rescue was definitely a point in his favor. "What's your name?"
Rupert hesitated. Knowing that the explosion on the Falcon had been sabotage made it dangerous to use his own name, not just for himself, but for anyone he came in contact with. He needed a name that Lucy or his mother's friend would recognize if they heard it. "Lando," he said.
Brenna sighed. Rupert had to have been the one who was sitting at the bar, then. She had seen him leave during the fight. She'd just have to come back later. In the meantime, she still had this one to occupy her. It wasn't a bad trade.
He studied her expression. "You look disappointed."
She laughed. "Actually, I'm not. It's nice to meet you, Lando."
"And you?" the young man asked. "What's your name?"
Brenna made a sound that wasn't quite a laugh. "I wish I knew how to answer that. I'm not even sure myself these days." She quickly changed the subject. "You know, I still didn't get that drink I wanted. Care to join me?"
"I'm…not partial to toxins," he said.
"Well, around here the water's probably more toxic than the certified toxins. But you can order whatever you want. At least let me say thank you for saving my life." Even if it didn't need saving. But here on Tatooine, finding someone even willing to try was rare.
Rupert hesitated. If Skywalker or Chewbacca came and he wasn't there, he figured they'd either wait for him, or try again tomorrow. There was something about this girl, something he liked about her very much, and not just her scent, which smelled faintly of soap and sand and something else he couldn't identify. "Only if we can find some place a little quieter than the one we just left," he said finally.
"In Mos Eisley? Not likely," Brenna answered.
.
.
.
They found one which, if not quieter, at least had a private table in a corner, and Rupert ordered a large glass of trisilade. Brenna was surprised.
"It may not be officially on the toxins list," she told him, "but it's got enough chemicals in it to preserve a body for a few millenia."
The corners of Ruperts mouth turned up slightly. "It's not the preservatives that concern me," he said.
"What then?"
"I don't like to lose control."
Brenna shrugged. "You're unique, then. Most people try every means they can to lose it." She ordered a fruit juice for herself.
"What do you do?" Rupert asked. It was all he could think of to say.
"I'm a mechanic."
"Which ship?"
"Freelance," Brenna told him. "If it's broken, I can fix it. What about you?"
"I'm a pilot," Rupert said, wondering how much he should tell her.
"You don't wear insignias."
"Neither do you."
Brenna showed him the underside of her collar, where she had pinned many of the pilot's insignias she had won.
Rupert stared. "Those are pilot's insignias."
"Yeah, well, I told you, I'm freelance. These, I won. Racing on ships that I repaired myself, I might add. Mostly old clap-trap skyhoppers that belong to somebody else. I sometimes repair a ship at no charge for the chance to race it, but the owner has to buy the parts that I specify. Now. What about you? Where're your insignias?"
Rupert tried to think of a witty response. He put on his most stuck-up senatorial imitation and said, "I don't feel the need for such ostentatious display to verify my self-worth."
Brenna stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter. After a moment, she wiped her eyes and said, "Let me guess. You lost them to someone like me, right?"
"Not exactly like you, no."
"So what brings you to Mos Eisley?"
"My...ship's in need of some repairs at the moment."
"Great," Brenna said. "Sounds like you can use someone with my talents."
"I'd...rather handle it myself, thanks."
"You sure? I'm pretty good."
"I'm sure." Rupert studied her for a minute, then said, "I still don't know what to call you."
"Call me whatever you want, but call me." She smiled.
Rupert smiled in response but didn't press. He wasn't exactly being honest about his own name. "What were you doing at that cantina?"
"Meeting someone."
The arrival of the 'droid-waiter with the drinks gave Rupert an excuse not to look at her. He looked down at his trisilade and sipped it. "Lucky someone," he said.
"Actually, I've never met him before. But he may be my ticket off this lump of sand. Tatooine is not exactly the hot-spot of the galaxy."
"Where are you trying to go?"
"I don't know. Someplace...else. What about you?"
Rupert's mouth twitched slightly. "I'm looking for a person, not a place."
"Oh? Who?"
"Me."
Brenna smiled at that. "Yeah. I guess I can understand that."
.
.
.
After a while, Brenna excused herself on the pretense that she had to make new arrangements to meet her appointment and went back to the cantina. Rupert insisted on accompanying her, and she agreed so long as he promised to wait outsider by the door. On the way, she used Lucy's credits to purchase a sack-pack for the blasters.
Before going into the cantina, Brenna tucked one of the blasters into her belt, and threw her robe on over it. Then she entered cautiously, checking to see if the freighters were still around, but they were gone.
Unfortunately, her Rupert-candidate hadn't come back, either.
She sighed, and went up to the bartender. He was not happy to see her, but he relented when she handed him a fist full of Lucy's credits. "That's for the mess earlier," she said. Then she dangled another high denomination credit in front of him but snatched it back when he reached for it. "That's for services to be rendered."
"What sort of services?" the bartender asked dubiously.
Brenna held her other palm out to show the pilot's insignia Lucy had given her, which she'd kept in her pocket. "Take a good look at this. It's got a bird and a star, see? When you see its mate, tell the wearer I'll be here every day an hour before dusk. When I meet whoever has the matching insignia, you'll get another one of these." She held the credit out again, and this time, didn't snatch it back when the bartender took it. She put the insignia back into her pocket.
She left again, having congratulated herself on arranging things so she wouldn't have to spend every minute of every day hanging around space-garbage like the freighters she and Lando had dealt with earlier, and went back to the door where Rupert was waiting. "Well, that's done," she smiled. "Want to get something to eat?"
Rupert took one last glance around the cantina to make sure he hadn't missed anything, but there was no one there who could have matched Chewbacca's description of his uncle Luke, so he looked back at Brenna. "Sure," he said.
Brenna found the cantina without much difficulty. She had convinced Lucy that if someone had planted a bomb on their ship, then it was best if Lucy not show her face, so Brenna was the most logical one to go. Brenna looked at the cantina from the outside for a moment—nothing much, just your basic hole-in-the-ground. Like all the others on Tatooine, it was partly below ground to take advantage of whatever natural cooling it could.
She descended the steps.
It was dim inside, but not completely dark, thanks to the flashy, garish lighting arrangement. She was aware of The Fear clawing at her, but it didn't overtake her. Fortunately, on Tatooine, places like this did a good portion of their business during the day, when freighters and pilots were looking for a way to beat the heat of Tatooine's twin suns or arrange shipping contracts. It was hard to imagine that her father had ever gone into a place like this, but somehow, at this moment, it felt natural for Brenna to be here.
Coming in from the bright suns outside, it was hard to see just who was inside. On this side of the bar, there were several clusters of patrons, but she could make out only three who were alone. One was sitting alone at a booth. Brenna studied him casually. No, too old. The two others were sitting at the bar. One turned slightly, and she was able to see his face. Humanoid, but not what she was looking for. That left the third one sitting at the bar, facing away from her. She couldn't see his face, but from what little she could see, the description fit. She walked towards the bar.
As she approached a couple of tables filled with freighters wearing identical uniforms and insignias with the same ship's marking, several of them whistled. Brenna favored them with a brief smile as she started to pass between the tables. One of them, a humanoid with protruding brow-ridges, reached out and grabbed her arm. "How 'bout it, Missy? You an' me?"
Brenna turned to the freighter and smiled again. "Sorry, friend, it's not for sale." She started forward again, but the humanoid didn't release his hold. "I said, it's not for sale," she repeated. She jerked her wrist free and turned away.
The freighter grabbed her arm again. "I never said I was buyin'," he leered, pulling her back towards him. "In fact, I was thinkin' you should give it to me for free."
The man apparently couldn't take 'no' for an answer. Brenna brought the edge of her free hand down in a hard chop on the man's arm. He screamed and let go, his arm bent at a funny angle, and Brenna turned to the bar once again.
The freighter's mates, about half a dozen of them, human and humanoid mixture, stood up and blocked her way.
Brenna sighed. She could wait outside for Rupert to emerge, and avoid a fight. As a general rule, she disliked fighting. "I don't suppose I wanted a drink that badly," she said. "I'll come back after the place has been fumigated." She turned to leave, but one of the freighters grabbed her right wrist again. She started to deliver another side-hand chop, but her left wrist was grabbed from the other side by one of the humanoids.
It was not exactly fair odds, but the freighters didn't know it yet. Even her father couldn't object to her using the Force in a situation like this. Brenna was just about to summon it when a hand fell on one of her captor's wrists. It belonged to someone who had come up from behind her, from somewhere inside the cantina. Brenna turned and saw that the 'someone' was a pleasant-looking young man with dark hair and dark eyes. He seemed to fit Lucy's description of Rupert, but this was not exactly the time to ask. She wondered how she had missed him earlier.
He was nice looking, though.
"The lady," he said, "does not appear to be interested."
Brenna glanced towards the other man who might be Rupert, the one at the bar. He seemed to be watching the scene with interest, but made no move to intervene.
Brenna's wannabe rescuer seemed to know about pressure points, because he squeezed, and the freighter's hand opened up to release Brenna's arm. Brenna pulled the other one free from the humanoid.
"You'd better get out of here, Miss," the man said, not taking his eyes off the freighters, "and send for the authorities."
"What, and miss all the fun?" Brenna asked. "Besides, this is Mos Eisley. There are no authorities."
The first swing came from the freighter whose wrist the young man had forced open. It was aimed at the young man's face. He ducked it and returned a blow to the freighter’s stomach, then whirled to face the four other freighters who tried to rush him simultaneously.
Brenna could have sworn she heard him growling.
One other freighter came towards her. She dispatched him with a knee to the groin, then turned to see how her temporary partner was faring.
One-on-one, he could probably have held his own, but four-on-one was a bit much for him. He was fighting like an animal, more with instinct than with brains. Nevertheless, he had had managed to knock one freighter down before he was caught and held by two others, and a third was pulling back for a punch. Brenna concentrated on the last one, and the man's fist stopped in mid-delivery, then opened up and flew to his throat as he felt his windpipe being restricted. She took care of another by breaking the freighter's collarbone with the side of her hand. That left two: the one holding onto the other side of her rescuer, and the one on the floor who was just getting up.
"No blasters!" the bartender yelled. "No blasters!"
The shout alerted Brenna, and she turned to see the freighter whose collarbone she had fractured raise a blaster in the direction of the young man. She concentrated, and a glass from the table flew into the side of his face. She followed up by grabbing one of the half-empty glasses still sitting on the table and tossing the contents into the freighter's eyes. He howled and covered his eyes with his hands. The first freighter, the humanoid whose arm she had broken, was also reaching for his weapon with his good hand, although a little awkwardly. Brenna smiled and picked up the blaster his partner had just dropped and pointed it at him. The humanoid dropped his.
Brenna glanced back and saw that her rescuer had somehow taken care of the two freighters that had been left; there were now two bloodied lumps on the floor, which Brenna was gratified to note were still breathing. The young man quickly wiped the blood off his nose with the back of his hand and glanced around to see if there were any more to be taken care of. He was still making a snarling noise deep in his throat when he saw the last one standing, the one Brenna had her gun trained on, the one who had started this whole mess. The young man turned his attention to the freighter with fire in his eyes, and a snarl curling his mouth, and there was no doubt but that he intended to do unnecessary bodily harm to the freighter. "Oh, Hell," Brenna murmured. She twisted the dial on the gun to 'stun,' and shot the spacer.
For a moment, her partner-in-fight seemed confused at having his foe suddenly collapse. Then he turned to Brenna, saw the gun, and a second later his eyes cleared. "Yes, that's better," he said, but not so much to Brenna as to himself. Brenna bent to pick up the blasters that had been dropped in fight, and quickly searched the moaning and unconscious forms on the floor until she had collected six blasters. One of the humanoid freighters had pilot's insignias on his collar. On a mischievous impulse, Brenna pulled one off and pocketed it. Then she took off her desert robe, laid the blasters in it, and wrapped them up.
"Out!" the bartender said. "Get out!"
Her rescuer used his hand to wipe at his bloodied nose again, then wiped his bloodied hand on his pants before taking Brenna's arm lightly. "Come on," he said.
Brenna didn't argue, and they went out of the cantina into the white-bright street.
"Are you all right, Miss?" he asked, once they were outside.
Brenna smiled. "I'm fine. I'm even a few blasters richer for the experience. Want one?"
"No, thanks," said the young man. He glanced backwards at the cantina, then took Brenna's arm again and walked with her down the street. "This is not exactly the safest place for a young woman to go alone."
"I can handle myself." She looked at the young man's collar. No pilot's insignia. Damn.
"I wouldn't bet on it against a pack like that mob," he replied. "Where do you live? I'll walk you home."
Brenna smiled again. "There's no 'home' to go to. But thank you for the offer."
He stopped and looked at her. "You don't have any place to stay?"
"Oh, I didn't say that. I just said that I didn't have a home any more. Not that I miss the one I did have all that much." She glanced back towards the cantina then looked back at the young man. Insignia or no insignia, she was still on a mission. There was still a chance that this was Rupert. If he was Rupert, they'd be first-cousins, which would be a damn shame. He was rather attractive. And his willingness to come to her rescue was definitely a point in his favor. "What's your name?"
Rupert hesitated. Knowing that the explosion on the Falcon had been sabotage made it dangerous to use his own name, not just for himself, but for anyone he came in contact with. He needed a name that Lucy or his mother's friend would recognize if they heard it. "Lando," he said.
Brenna sighed. Rupert had to have been the one who was sitting at the bar, then. She had seen him leave during the fight. She'd just have to come back later. In the meantime, she still had this one to occupy her. It wasn't a bad trade.
He studied her expression. "You look disappointed."
She laughed. "Actually, I'm not. It's nice to meet you, Lando."
"And you?" the young man asked. "What's your name?"
Brenna made a sound that wasn't quite a laugh. "I wish I knew how to answer that. I'm not even sure myself these days." She quickly changed the subject. "You know, I still didn't get that drink I wanted. Care to join me?"
"I'm…not partial to toxins," he said.
"Well, around here the water's probably more toxic than the certified toxins. But you can order whatever you want. At least let me say thank you for saving my life." Even if it didn't need saving. But here on Tatooine, finding someone even willing to try was rare.
Rupert hesitated. If Skywalker or Chewbacca came and he wasn't there, he figured they'd either wait for him, or try again tomorrow. There was something about this girl, something he liked about her very much, and not just her scent, which smelled faintly of soap and sand and something else he couldn't identify. "Only if we can find some place a little quieter than the one we just left," he said finally.
"In Mos Eisley? Not likely," Brenna answered.
.
.
.
They found one which, if not quieter, at least had a private table in a corner, and Rupert ordered a large glass of trisilade. Brenna was surprised.
"It may not be officially on the toxins list," she told him, "but it's got enough chemicals in it to preserve a body for a few millenia."
The corners of Ruperts mouth turned up slightly. "It's not the preservatives that concern me," he said.
"What then?"
"I don't like to lose control."
Brenna shrugged. "You're unique, then. Most people try every means they can to lose it." She ordered a fruit juice for herself.
"What do you do?" Rupert asked. It was all he could think of to say.
"I'm a mechanic."
"Which ship?"
"Freelance," Brenna told him. "If it's broken, I can fix it. What about you?"
"I'm a pilot," Rupert said, wondering how much he should tell her.
"You don't wear insignias."
"Neither do you."
Brenna showed him the underside of her collar, where she had pinned many of the pilot's insignias she had won.
Rupert stared. "Those are pilot's insignias."
"Yeah, well, I told you, I'm freelance. These, I won. Racing on ships that I repaired myself, I might add. Mostly old clap-trap skyhoppers that belong to somebody else. I sometimes repair a ship at no charge for the chance to race it, but the owner has to buy the parts that I specify. Now. What about you? Where're your insignias?"
Rupert tried to think of a witty response. He put on his most stuck-up senatorial imitation and said, "I don't feel the need for such ostentatious display to verify my self-worth."
Brenna stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter. After a moment, she wiped her eyes and said, "Let me guess. You lost them to someone like me, right?"
"Not exactly like you, no."
"So what brings you to Mos Eisley?"
"My...ship's in need of some repairs at the moment."
"Great," Brenna said. "Sounds like you can use someone with my talents."
"I'd...rather handle it myself, thanks."
"You sure? I'm pretty good."
"I'm sure." Rupert studied her for a minute, then said, "I still don't know what to call you."
"Call me whatever you want, but call me." She smiled.
Rupert smiled in response but didn't press. He wasn't exactly being honest about his own name. "What were you doing at that cantina?"
"Meeting someone."
The arrival of the 'droid-waiter with the drinks gave Rupert an excuse not to look at her. He looked down at his trisilade and sipped it. "Lucky someone," he said.
"Actually, I've never met him before. But he may be my ticket off this lump of sand. Tatooine is not exactly the hot-spot of the galaxy."
"Where are you trying to go?"
"I don't know. Someplace...else. What about you?"
Rupert's mouth twitched slightly. "I'm looking for a person, not a place."
"Oh? Who?"
"Me."
Brenna smiled at that. "Yeah. I guess I can understand that."
.
.
.
After a while, Brenna excused herself on the pretense that she had to make new arrangements to meet her appointment and went back to the cantina. Rupert insisted on accompanying her, and she agreed so long as he promised to wait outsider by the door. On the way, she used Lucy's credits to purchase a sack-pack for the blasters.
Before going into the cantina, Brenna tucked one of the blasters into her belt, and threw her robe on over it. Then she entered cautiously, checking to see if the freighters were still around, but they were gone.
Unfortunately, her Rupert-candidate hadn't come back, either.
She sighed, and went up to the bartender. He was not happy to see her, but he relented when she handed him a fist full of Lucy's credits. "That's for the mess earlier," she said. Then she dangled another high denomination credit in front of him but snatched it back when he reached for it. "That's for services to be rendered."
"What sort of services?" the bartender asked dubiously.
Brenna held her other palm out to show the pilot's insignia Lucy had given her, which she'd kept in her pocket. "Take a good look at this. It's got a bird and a star, see? When you see its mate, tell the wearer I'll be here every day an hour before dusk. When I meet whoever has the matching insignia, you'll get another one of these." She held the credit out again, and this time, didn't snatch it back when the bartender took it. She put the insignia back into her pocket.
She left again, having congratulated herself on arranging things so she wouldn't have to spend every minute of every day hanging around space-garbage like the freighters she and Lando had dealt with earlier, and went back to the door where Rupert was waiting. "Well, that's done," she smiled. "Want to get something to eat?"
Rupert took one last glance around the cantina to make sure he hadn't missed anything, but there was no one there who could have matched Chewbacca's description of his uncle Luke, so he looked back at Brenna. "Sure," he said.
-----
Chapter Eleven
"So that's Lucy," Han said, as they skimmed towards Mos Eisley in Luke's speeder. "Takes after her mother in every respect—especially the hard-headedness department."
Luke laughed, keeping his eyes on the terrain ahead as he drove. "I imagine Leia would probably say she takes after you in that regard."
"Oh, she does," Han told him. "Leia, I mean. But it ain't true. Lucy's the spitting image of her."
"Well," Luke said, "You've told me about Poul, you've told me about Lucy. What about Rupert?"
"Rupert?" Han said hesitantly. "He's a...great kid."
"You don't sound too sure about that."
"No, I mean it. He really is a great kid. If anything, he's a little too serious. He never lies or swears—he hasn't even developed an interest in girls yet."
"In other words," Luke said, glancing over at his friend with a smile, "he's the exact opposite of you."
Han chuckled. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. Except that he's a Hell of a shot with a blaster when he puts his mind to it. Do you know he can hit a moving seeker at thirty meters?"
"Not bad," Luke commented.
"You're not kiddin' it's not bad. But he's weird."
"What do you mean, weird?"
"Well...for one thing, he's turned us all into a bunch of goddam vegetarians."
Luke laughed. "You? A vegetarian?"
"It's true. When he was a baby, he'd eat anything we put in front of him. But once he found out where meat came from, he wouldn't touch it. Leia had a Hell of a time trying to get him to eat until we finally figured out what it was. He'd eat fruits and vegetables—even guaco beans, Deities help him. But he wouldn't eat any kind of meat. And Deities forbid we should bring any kind of animal flesh to the table now. I mean, he looks at us like we've just cooked up his favorite pet and put it on a platter. If I want a decent meal, I've got to go out for it."
"So he's a vegetarian. What's wrong with that?"
"Coming from my family, that's weird. But that's not the really weird part. You would think that someone who likes animals enough not to eat them would like them in general. But Rupert can't stand them. Except for his damn mortu, which he takes everywhere. He hates the zoo. Cried when Leia tried to take him. And it's not because the animals are in cages, because the zoo we got tries to keep the environment as close to their natural habitat as possible. And he doesn't like doing normal kid-things. Sports are all right. He plays skeet-ball like a pro, but other kid things… I tried to take him camping once, on Endor. You know Endor. It's a kid's paradise, even if they did try to have me for dinner once. Talking teddy-bears, tree-houses, you name it. Rupert started screaming the minute we landed and wouldn't stop until I packed him back up onto the Falcon. As soon as we spaced, he was happy as a lunga. Said he couldn't keep them out, whatever 'them' meant. I asked him what was 'them,' and he said he didn't know."
Luke looked at Han with sudden interest. "You're right. That is weird. Tell me something, Han. Has Rupert ever...displayed any other unusual behavior?"
"You mean besides all that?"
Luke nodded.
Han sighed, suddenly serious. "Tell you the truth, Luke, that's what worries me the most about him. See, he...weirds-out sometimes."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, he weirds-out. It's kinda hard to explain. His eyes get all glassy, and it's like he's not there. First time it happened, Leia was sure he'd eaten something, and called the emergency medics for poison intervention. It's been getting worse and worse lately, and nothing we can do seems to stop it.Wedge was the only one who could help him."
"Huh," Luke said thoughtfully.
"Why do you ask?"
"It's just that...Leia said sending the kids to me was Wedge's idea."
"Do you know something that I don't?" Han asked.
Luke shook his head. "Not for certain," he said. "But it may be that Wedge had another reason for sending the kids here than their immediate safety."
"What do you mean?"
"I'll tell you when I know for sure. In the meantime, let's just concentrate on finding Rupert and the others before Lippa's henchmen do."
Han was silent for a moment as Luke drove the speeder, knowing that when Luke made up his mind not to do something, it stayed made up. Whatever it was, if Luke decided it was important, he would tell him.
The silence stretched out, and Han suddenly realized that he had been the one doing most of the talking. He had talked about himself, his own kids, but Luke had said nothing, about himself or Brenna. "All right, Luke. I've told you about my brood. What about yours?"
"Huh?" Luke said.
"How's Brenna?"
"Oh. She's...okay, I guess."
"'Okay, you guess'?" Han repeated dryly. "That tells me a lot."
Luke gave a little laugh. "Sorry. There aren't that many people out here I can talk to. I guess I'm a little out of practice. She's fine."
"From 'okay' to 'fine.' Well, I guess that's an improvement. Must be nice to have a kid without any problems to go with it."
Luke shook his head. "I don't think you want to hear about my problems."
"Hey! That's exactly what I want to hear about. See, I hear about your problems, then it makes me feel like mine are normal."
Luke smiled a little. "All right, you asked for it. Brenna is...everything I could have hoped for under other circumstances. She's strong, she's healthy, she's intelligent...Unfortunately, she's also adventuresome—"
"Sounds like someone else I used to know," Han said.
"And when you couple that with Force-sensitivity, it spells trouble."
"She definitely sounds like someone else I used to know. But I would have thought that of all people, you'd be the one to want a Force-sensitive child."
"As I said, Han, under other circumstances.…When she was born, Briande and I were constantly touching her through the Force, and encouraging her to reach back to us. Since Briande's death, I've found myself in the awkward position of having to train a child who is naturally strong with the Force to not use it, to untrain her, as it were."
"Hey, Luke, I don't mean to tell you your business, but can you do that? I mean, I thought once a sensitive, always a sensitive."
"Only to a certain degree. It's like...a muscle. If you don't use it, it will start to atrophy. In the case of the Force, there's a certain optimal training period. Beyond that age, it becomes harder to teach a sensitive how to tap into it. The older the student, the more difficult it is to teach him or her. I was about Brenna's age now when Kenobi started to teach me, and that was close to the end of the optimal period. Wedge and some of the others were older, and as a result, they never did develop to the same level as the original order of Jedi."
"Oh," said Han.
"I had hoped," Luke went on, "that Briande and I could train them at least well enough to find other sensitives—preferably still within the optimal training age—and pass on what they had learned, so that the next generation of Jedi would be even stronger than the first. Briande and I had been working, too, to find younger students. Unfortunately, those were also the ones Lippa went after first."
There was a long silence. Finally Han said, "You don't belong here, Luke."
"What?" Luke said, not understanding.
"What are you doing here? You don't belong on this Deities-forsaken sandball any more than I do."
"I grew up here," Luke reminded him. "It's my home."
"You may have grown up here, but it's not your home. Face it, this place is just an isolated chunk of sand. You can't even make a decent living farming here."
"It was never my intention to get rich, Han. And it's precisely because it's an isolated chunk of sand that I'm here. Ben Kenobi knew what he was doing when he brought me here as a baby. I brought Brenna for the same reasons."
Han was confused again. "What do you mean?"
Luke patiently tried to explain. "Every Force-sensitive creates a kind of...ripple in the Force, a peculiar sensation that another trained sensitive can identify as that person's presence. When a sensitive draws on the Force, or feels strong emotions, it creates even more movement. And the closer you are to the source of the disturbance, physically or emotionally, the easier it is to sense. Brenna is the offspring of two Force-sensitives. The Force is strong with her. She has the potential of causing a wave that can be felt across immense distances. The farther I can keep her from Etan Lippa, the better my chances of protecting her."
"I don't get it," Han said. "What's so special about Etan Lippa, anyway? I mean, I know he used to be a student of yours, and that you think he was responsible for Briande's death—"
"Not 'think,'" Luke told him. "Know."
"Okay, know. But I thought you Jedi were supposed to be able to handle people like that. What makes Lippa so different?"
Luke kept his eyes straight ahead on the terrain. "Han...what do you get if you rearrange the letters in Etan Lippa's name?"
"Uh, I dunno. Lippa Etan. Papil Nate. Pal—Sweet Deities, Luke! Palpatine?"
Luke nodded. "I didn't realize it myself until Briande was killed."
"But...the Emperor's dead...isn't he?"
"You and I both have children. Why not Palpatine? I'm almost positive that Etan Lippa is his son."
Han let out a long breath. If Luke was 'almost positive,' then it was a certainty.
"At any rate," Luke went on, "he's managed to separate the Jedi, and destroy each one individually, just like Palpatine and Vader did."
"Beginning with you," Han said.
Luke looked at him. "What do you mean?"
Han shook his head. For a Jedi Knight, Luke could be incredibly dense sometimes. "You were the first one to leave," Han said. "Any military strategist worth his salt knows that the easiest way to weaken a unit is to separate it from its leader."
Luke stared at his friend, suddenly realizing the truth of the statement. Ordinarily, Han might have been worried about the effects on Luke's driving, but this was Tatooine—there was nothing to run into.
Finally, Luke turned his head forward again, but his mind was not on the terrain. "Force help me," he whispered to himself. "I helped Lippa kill my friends..."
.
.
.
"You're supposed to be finding my brother," Lucy complained, "not going out on dates."
"Will you relax?" Brenna replied. "I've taken care of finding your brother."
"What about that guy at the cantina? It might have been him."
"If it was Rupert, he'll be back. And so will I."
"Maybe I should go find him myself instead of staying cooped up here while you go partying and picking up strange guys."
Brenna sighed. "We've been over this before. The ones who planted the bomb on your ship know what you look like. I, on the other hand, have no likeness on record. Therefore, I have to be the one to find Rupert. If you two hadn't been so stupid as to not set a time to meet at this cantina, things would be a lot easier. If he made it down in one piece, he's probably trying to fix your ship, and he can't be there and at the cantina at the same time. When he does get to the cantina, he'll know when to expect me. So cool your turbos and be patient, and I will find your brother for you. In the meantime, you get to enjoy the amenities of a Tatooine five-star hotel."
"Great," Lucy muttered with negative enthusiasm. Their 'five-star' hotel room was hardly more than a Jawa-hole. "Just what I always wanted."
.
.
.
The bantha was crazed. It had had a fracture on its right foreleg, the result of being forced to run too quickly down a sand dune. It had been in pain, but all its owner cared about was speed, and the poor creature had been whipped with charge prods and jabbed with spear points to go farther, and faster. The beast was in agony, and its owner just didn't care.
Rupert had been on his way back to the cantina when it hit him. His eyes became glassy. His steps grew uncertain, like the bantha's. When the owner prodded the poor beast again, Rupert cried out and grabbed his left side. The passersby began to give him a somewhat wider berth, and looked at him curiously.
Two blocks over, the bantha staggered, and Rupert staggered into the street. The bantha collapsed to its front knees. At the same time, Rupert fell to his own knees.
And that's when it happened. Just as curious on-lookers started to gather around Rupert, and the rare good samaritan in Mos Eisley was asking if he needed medical assistance, the bantha's owner prodded the beast one last time, and the animal's mind snapped.
Ignoring the pain in its front leg, the bantha regained its feet, and then reared up, throwing its abusive owner to the ground and signing its own death warrant. Its owner climbed to his feet, grabbed the nearby spear, and shook the point at the bantha threateningly. The bantha ignored the spear point and trampled the owner, killing him instantly. It screamed and circled around in a wild dance, threatening the pedestrians, and scaring other banthas with riders.
Two blocks over, Rupert was going crazy. He screamed in volumes and pitches that human vocal cords weren't designed produce, making sounds that would cause him to be hoarse for days to come. His arms flailed, striking anyone who tried to come near him.
Those who saw Rupert simply assumed he had o.d.'d on something illegal. It was a common enough occurrence in Mos Eisley. Someone called it in, a routine call.
Brenna was walking up the street when the bantha went mad. She stopped and watched from a distance for a few seconds, too far away to be in immediate danger. But something pulled her to the left. She followed the pull, recognizing it as the same sort of intuition that had told her to leave the housing complex with Lucy.
Two blocks over, another sort of crowd was gathering, and Brenna's intuition told her that this was somehow important, more important than the bantha, and she needed to be there. She ran to whatever was causing the excitement, and pushed her way to the center of the crowd.
To her amazement, it was Lando!
He had flipped out, just like the bantha, and somehow Brenna knew that the two were connected.
"Lando!" she shouted.
Rupert didn't hear her. He was too caught up in the bantha's rampage.
Brenna started towards him, pulling free of the arms that tried to hold her back, and at the same time willing with all her might that she could protect him from whatever it was that was doing this to him. She thought about building a mental barrier of quiet around him, like an invisible bubble, protecting him against the equally unseen forces that were attacking him.
And suddenly…the madness was gone
Brenna didn’t know it, but she was projecting a Force-shield around Rupert, protecting him from the waves of rage and insanity that the bantha gave off. She’d never done anything like this before, had never even tried to. If she hadn’t been so frightened during her father’s “attacks,” hadn’t been caught up in the spill-over of what her father was feeling, had understood the source of the “attacks,” she might have been able to protect her father from their full effects. But this time, she was more distanced from the problem, wasn’t feeling it directly, wasn’t caught up in it herself, wasn’t frightened by what was going on, and this time, without knowing what she was doing, really, she projected a bubble of protection around Rupert.
Rupert panted with the aftermath of the madness, no longer caught in its grip, but still wrapped in the immediate memory of the madness.
"Lando?" Brenna queried.
Rupert registered neither the voice nor the name right away. So far, the only thing that was beginning to register was that the madness had been taking him, and now…it wasn't.
"Lando!" Brenna said again.
Rupert felt hands on his shoulders, then on his waist, trying to pull him up.
"Lando, are you okay?"
The voice and the name finally penetrated his consciousness. There was only one person who called him by that name, and with that voice: it was the one person he didn't want to see him like this. He turned his head and confirmed what his ears had already told him. "You," he said weakly, struggling to regain his breath. "What are you doing here?"
Two blocks over, somebody shot the bantha dead. Rupert didn't even flinch.
"We have a date, remember?" Brenna said. She pulled him through the ring of onlookers, out of the blinding light of the twin Tatooine suns, into the sheltered archway of a building and wiped his face with her hands. "Are you all right?"
He nodded and waved a vague hand. "Medical condition. Sorry."
Brenna glanced up over the edge of the archway at the twin suns. "The heat around here can get to anyone," she said. "Let's go find someplace cooler, and get you something to drink."
Ten minutes later, they were sitting at a bar in a small cantina across the street. Rupert nursed his trisilade quietly as Brenna watched him. Embarrassment and shame had replaced the disorientation of his broken link with the bantha.
"So…what kind of medical condition is it?" Brenna asked.
Rupert shook his head. "Nobody seems to know. I've been to the best and the most expensive doctors and specialists in the galaxy, and they can't figure it out. Every once in a while, I just…weird out."
"'Weird-out'?"
"For lack of a better name."
Brenna rested her cheek on the heel of her hand. "Can I ask you something?"
"Ask."
"I mean, I don't want to embarrass you."
"Ask," Rupert repeated.
"Are you really a pilot?"
"Yeah." He waited for the rest of it.
"And they let you fly?"
Rupert smiled and shook his head. "First of all," he replied, "I'm a private pilot, not commercial."
"Private, huh? But don't you have to disclose any medical conditions before hiring out, even as a private pilot?"
Rupert's smile turned lopsided, as Han's always did when he was being wry. "I guess it's a good thing I've got my own ship, then."
Brenna was surprised. "You've got your own ship? You said something yesterday about getting back to your ship, but I thought you were speaking metaphorically, as in, I have to get back to the ship on which I work. Your own ship? I'm impressed."
"Don't be. She's just an old freighter. Everyone who sees her says she looks like a piece of junk. She's not even space-worthy at the moment. But she belonged to my Dad before me, and I wouldn't trade her for all the spice on Kessel. I love to fly her every chance I can get."
"Well, if you've got your own ship, I think I'll let you pay for the refreshments." She looked at him and asked, "What if you, uh, 'weird-out' at a critical time?"
"Ah, well, you see, that's the thing. There's no medication or treatment that helps my condition, except spacing. For some reason, I don't weird-out in space. Or at least, I haven't yet. And if I do, I've got the best co-pilot in the galaxy. He'll take over and get us safely where we're going."
"So…when do I get to meet your co-pilot?"
"Oh, he's…tending to some important business right now. I'm not even sure exactly where he is at the moment, or I'd introduce you."
"Great," Brenna commented. "A pilot who 'weirds out' and a co-pilot who can't be found. Makes me want to fly Lando Spaceways."
He took a sip of his trisilade without looking at her, then put the glass back down. "Look," he said quietly, "You don't have to stick around. I'm all right now."
"It was a joke."
"I know. But still…"
"We still have a date," she reminded him.
Rupert gave a self-deprecating laugh. "I guess you saw I'm not exactly the type girls want to go out with."
"Why not?" Brenna asked. "I mean, you're weird and all, but you're still kinda cute, and it was awfully sweet of you to come to my rescue." The fact that she really hadn't needed rescuing was irrelevant. He hadn't known that, and it was still sweet of him to want to.
Rupert had not spent his entire life under Han's tutelage for nothing. He inclined his head with a gallant flourish of his hand. "It was my pleasure, m'lady."
Brenna propped her elbows on the table and leaned forward on her fists. "Look, I can't promise anything beyond today, and as soon as my contact arrives at the cantina, I'm out of here. That's true whether you flip out or not. But in the meantime…"
"You still want to go out?"
"Lando," she said, "I have a question to ask you, and the entire brief future of our relationship depends upon the answer."
"Oh? Is it the sort of question like, 'Is it genetic?' The answer is, I don't know."
"No. The question is, how do you feel about hoverskating?"
"Hoverskating?"
"Yeah."
"They have hoverskating rinks here on Tatooine?"
.
.
.
Sports had always been something that Rupert was good at. With his gleeat-like reflexes and his uncanny sense of balance, he'd long ago taken to hoverskating as naturally as a shalim to water. But he had once weirded-out at a hoverskating rink, and he hadn't been back since. Until now.
Now, in the presence of this nameless mechanic from Tatooine, he felt for the first time as if he could do anything. She was remarkable. She hadn't run away screaming when she'd learned about his weirding-out, and in her presence, the madness was gone. He could be himself, and he had never felt more himself than now, being with her.
Brenna, for her part, was surprised by the unique experience of actually having a partner who, in some ways, was better than she was! Lando didn't have her sense of musicality, but what he lacked in that area he more than made up for in strength and agility. And even though Lando had obviously never skated with a partner before, they paired well together—once he learned to shorten his gliding stride to accommodate hers. With the music playing all around and the rink being relatively uncrowded at that time of day, their hoverskating was more like dancing, and was the closest thing to flying without a ship that she had ever experienced. It was exhilarating.
After a while, Brenna suggested that he throw her into a relatively simple jump that she had landed a hundred times on her own, and had performed for him earlier, just to show off. She landed this time on her butt, because she had underestimated the amount of strength with which he could throw her.
He apologized profusely as if it was his fault. Brenna laughed it off and asked him to do it again, exactly the same way. The second time she managed to keep on her feet, although she two-footed the landing. Eventually she managed to get the hang of it, although she was frustrated with the amount of time it took her. If she had known that it took professional skaters a hundred times as long to master that particular move with a new partner, she might have been more forgiving of herself.
Despite that difficulty, however, Lando was by far the best partner with whom she had ever hoverskated. But the exertion from hoverskating and from another drain that Brenna was only subconsciously aware of began taking their toll, and eventually she had to quit, even though Rupert was ready to keep going. "Enough!" she laughed, breathing hard. "Lando, I would love to stay and keep hoverskating with you, but you've worn me out."
Rupert skated a circle around her and came to a halt. "Do I pass the 'let's continue this relationship' test?"
"Yes, yes!" she laughed, trying to regain her breath. "If I can! But I'm done in for today. And besides, I have to check the cantina for my contact. Let's go get our shoes back and blow this sand-hole."
Rupert gallantly offered her his arm and led her off the hover rink to the skate rental 'droid, who returned their shoes and dutifully sanitized the skates for the next renters. Arm in arm they left the rink. Rupert stopped when she did, thinking that she meant to take her leave, and the knowledge that this, his very first date ever, was over made him a little despondent.
But she smiled and said, "I had a great time today."
"Me, too, Mechanic" Rupert replied, meaning it. He'd gotten into the habit of calling her 'Mechanic' since she still hadn't given him her name.
"But…" Brenna said.
"But?"
"This contact I'm meeting at the cantina. He could show up today. He could show up tomorrow. He could show up a week from now. When he does, I'll have to leave."
"I understand," Rupert said.
"I just…don't want to make any promises I can't keep."
"I wouldn't want you to."
"In the meantime, if you want to keep seeing each other, that's fine with me. But no promises, and no commitments. And if I can't meet you tomorrow or the next day or whenever, that's the reason. Not your weirding-out. After I meet him, I'll be leaving. I just don't know when that will be. Okay?"
"Okay. No commitments. I understand."
She smiled then, and stepped in closer. She looked as if she wanted him to kiss her. She was just standing there, face turned upwards, looking at him.
Without conscious will, Rupert felt his arms come up around her. Her smile broadened, and she stepped in closer. Her arms came up around him, and the stirrings inside Rupert returned. But these were from within himself, not from somewhere he couldn't define. He closed his eyes against them, but was unwilling to drop his arms or move away. On the one hand, he knew that these were primal animal urges. On the other hand, they were so real. They were coming from within himself, not out of nowhere and everywhere, like so many others.
He must have hesitated too long, because she pulled away slightly, muttered, "Aw, Hell," and stretched up to press her mouth against his.
The sensations inside Rupert exploded.
He didn't know exactly what to do, but he had vague memories of biting and pinning and holding and just taking. He didn't know where those memories originated. There was no explanation for them. Maybe it was what he was supposed to do.
He tightened his hold on her, pulling her closer. He inhaled her scent deeply, letting it fill him and wash over him. He felt his mouth, his whole body, responding to her, pressing against her, wanting to devour her, to incorporate her into himself. He pressed harder.
But then he felt her pushing away, and it was all he could do to let her go.
"H-hey," she said, a little nervously. "Not so hard, okay?"
Rupert forced his arms to drop. "Sorry," he croaked hoarsely, and turned away in shame.
"No, it's okay," Brenna said, and moved around in front of him. "Just...not so hard. Okay?"
Rupert raised his eyes to her face in confusion. "You...don't want to do it again, do you?"
"Sure," Brenna replied, shrugging. "As long as you don't crush me to death."
Rupert's expression was earnest. "I'll try not to," he promised, "but I'm not—I mean, I can't—"
"Great Deities!" Brenna said, realizing what the problem was. "You've never done this before, have you?"
"Sorry," Rupert said ruefully.
"Oh, for crying out loud." Brenna reached up, took his face between her palms, and stretched up and touched her lips to Rupert's.
The sensations filled him again, but he pushed them down, forcing himself to remain in control.
She broke away. "Would you relax? I promise, I won't hurt you."
She stretched up and kissed him again. Rupert caught another whiff of her scent, and it was nearly too much for him. His desire for her was so strong, it was hard to think of anything else. He wanted to hold her, to be even closer to her than he was. He raised his hands to her shoulders, careful to just rest them there, trying hard to remember not to crush her.
Her hands moved down from his cheeks to his chest, then slid around to his back, pulling him to her a little closer. She seemed to be saying that a little pressure was okay.
The sensations intensified, but he found that they didn't overwhelm him to the point where he couldn't stop himself from crushing her. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her in any way. He'd been afraid that he wouldn't be able to control himself, but somehow, with her, he felt protected against all the outside feelings and impressions, the ones that weren't his own, and he started to let himself enjoy the experience.
Oh, it was glorious! He'd experienced lust from a thousand sources he didn't understand, confusing images and animal instincts originating from bizarre ethereal resonances he thought must have been from dark recesses inside his own mind, but this was different. This was his own real passion, not dream-lust, and the depths of his soul from which it arose didn't seem at all bizarre or ethereal. It was real, the most real thing he'd ever experienced.
His mouth wanted to open, and he tentatively parted his lips, just a little. When he found Brenna was willing, he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer without crushing her.
He felt her moan against him, and knew it was a moan of pleasure, and not of protest, and the feeling that knowledge gave him was...exquisite.
Rupert sensed that she wanted more, just as he did, but he remembered a piece of advice his father had given to him when they'd had one of their talks about girls.
Always leave 'em wanting a little more, Han had said. Ya gotta give 'em a reason to come back.
He pulled away from her then, a little, not even aware that he was teasing, until she pulled him back hungrily.
Then Rupert remembered something his mother had once said. She hadn't actually been talking about girls; she'd been talking about eating chocolates, but he was sure she'd been talking about something else, too.
The best way is just to savor it. Let it melt in your mouth. Draw it out. Otherwise, you just swallow it, it's gone, and you've gained all those calories for very little in return.
Rupert knew that there had been something more in that statement, because just then his father had strolled by and popped one of the little goodies into his mouth, and his mother had complained, Hey! I'm trying to teach Rupert an important lesson about life, and you're ruining it!
His father had stopped then, surprised, and around a mouthful of goo had asked What lesson is that?
Exasperated his mother had said How to savor the pleasures of life.
His father had gotten an incredulous expression on his face, crossed his arms, leaned back against the wall, and said, Kid, ya gotta go for the gusto, seize the moment, live in the now, and take what you can before somebody else gets it.
His mother had shaken her head and said, That's not exactly the lesson I was trying to teach.
His father had replied that it was the only one worth learning.
Later, Rupert had asked Lucy if their mother had given her the lesson about the chocolates, and if she knew what it was supposed to mean. Lucy's reaction was somewhat different than what he had hoped for. Mom has chocolates? she said, and dashed out of the room in search of the treats.
But the kiss was now, and it was so much sweeter than chocolates. Rupert's hands found her hair, and it was so incredibly soft that his fingers just had to play in it.
He left off kissing her mouth and found her neck, and the intensity with which he covered her bare skin with his mouth made her gasp. Her sweet-salty taste became as much a part of him as the faint scent of the soap she washed with, and the faint body-smells beyond the soap, growing stronger as they both became more breathless. Then he found her mouth again, and it was just as wonderful as it had been before.
Eventually, by some mutual unspoken agreement, they pulled apart.
"You know," Brenna said, "for someone who's never done this before, you learn fast."
Rupert grinned and kissed her again.
"So that's Lucy," Han said, as they skimmed towards Mos Eisley in Luke's speeder. "Takes after her mother in every respect—especially the hard-headedness department."
Luke laughed, keeping his eyes on the terrain ahead as he drove. "I imagine Leia would probably say she takes after you in that regard."
"Oh, she does," Han told him. "Leia, I mean. But it ain't true. Lucy's the spitting image of her."
"Well," Luke said, "You've told me about Poul, you've told me about Lucy. What about Rupert?"
"Rupert?" Han said hesitantly. "He's a...great kid."
"You don't sound too sure about that."
"No, I mean it. He really is a great kid. If anything, he's a little too serious. He never lies or swears—he hasn't even developed an interest in girls yet."
"In other words," Luke said, glancing over at his friend with a smile, "he's the exact opposite of you."
Han chuckled. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. Except that he's a Hell of a shot with a blaster when he puts his mind to it. Do you know he can hit a moving seeker at thirty meters?"
"Not bad," Luke commented.
"You're not kiddin' it's not bad. But he's weird."
"What do you mean, weird?"
"Well...for one thing, he's turned us all into a bunch of goddam vegetarians."
Luke laughed. "You? A vegetarian?"
"It's true. When he was a baby, he'd eat anything we put in front of him. But once he found out where meat came from, he wouldn't touch it. Leia had a Hell of a time trying to get him to eat until we finally figured out what it was. He'd eat fruits and vegetables—even guaco beans, Deities help him. But he wouldn't eat any kind of meat. And Deities forbid we should bring any kind of animal flesh to the table now. I mean, he looks at us like we've just cooked up his favorite pet and put it on a platter. If I want a decent meal, I've got to go out for it."
"So he's a vegetarian. What's wrong with that?"
"Coming from my family, that's weird. But that's not the really weird part. You would think that someone who likes animals enough not to eat them would like them in general. But Rupert can't stand them. Except for his damn mortu, which he takes everywhere. He hates the zoo. Cried when Leia tried to take him. And it's not because the animals are in cages, because the zoo we got tries to keep the environment as close to their natural habitat as possible. And he doesn't like doing normal kid-things. Sports are all right. He plays skeet-ball like a pro, but other kid things… I tried to take him camping once, on Endor. You know Endor. It's a kid's paradise, even if they did try to have me for dinner once. Talking teddy-bears, tree-houses, you name it. Rupert started screaming the minute we landed and wouldn't stop until I packed him back up onto the Falcon. As soon as we spaced, he was happy as a lunga. Said he couldn't keep them out, whatever 'them' meant. I asked him what was 'them,' and he said he didn't know."
Luke looked at Han with sudden interest. "You're right. That is weird. Tell me something, Han. Has Rupert ever...displayed any other unusual behavior?"
"You mean besides all that?"
Luke nodded.
Han sighed, suddenly serious. "Tell you the truth, Luke, that's what worries me the most about him. See, he...weirds-out sometimes."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, he weirds-out. It's kinda hard to explain. His eyes get all glassy, and it's like he's not there. First time it happened, Leia was sure he'd eaten something, and called the emergency medics for poison intervention. It's been getting worse and worse lately, and nothing we can do seems to stop it.Wedge was the only one who could help him."
"Huh," Luke said thoughtfully.
"Why do you ask?"
"It's just that...Leia said sending the kids to me was Wedge's idea."
"Do you know something that I don't?" Han asked.
Luke shook his head. "Not for certain," he said. "But it may be that Wedge had another reason for sending the kids here than their immediate safety."
"What do you mean?"
"I'll tell you when I know for sure. In the meantime, let's just concentrate on finding Rupert and the others before Lippa's henchmen do."
Han was silent for a moment as Luke drove the speeder, knowing that when Luke made up his mind not to do something, it stayed made up. Whatever it was, if Luke decided it was important, he would tell him.
The silence stretched out, and Han suddenly realized that he had been the one doing most of the talking. He had talked about himself, his own kids, but Luke had said nothing, about himself or Brenna. "All right, Luke. I've told you about my brood. What about yours?"
"Huh?" Luke said.
"How's Brenna?"
"Oh. She's...okay, I guess."
"'Okay, you guess'?" Han repeated dryly. "That tells me a lot."
Luke gave a little laugh. "Sorry. There aren't that many people out here I can talk to. I guess I'm a little out of practice. She's fine."
"From 'okay' to 'fine.' Well, I guess that's an improvement. Must be nice to have a kid without any problems to go with it."
Luke shook his head. "I don't think you want to hear about my problems."
"Hey! That's exactly what I want to hear about. See, I hear about your problems, then it makes me feel like mine are normal."
Luke smiled a little. "All right, you asked for it. Brenna is...everything I could have hoped for under other circumstances. She's strong, she's healthy, she's intelligent...Unfortunately, she's also adventuresome—"
"Sounds like someone else I used to know," Han said.
"And when you couple that with Force-sensitivity, it spells trouble."
"She definitely sounds like someone else I used to know. But I would have thought that of all people, you'd be the one to want a Force-sensitive child."
"As I said, Han, under other circumstances.…When she was born, Briande and I were constantly touching her through the Force, and encouraging her to reach back to us. Since Briande's death, I've found myself in the awkward position of having to train a child who is naturally strong with the Force to not use it, to untrain her, as it were."
"Hey, Luke, I don't mean to tell you your business, but can you do that? I mean, I thought once a sensitive, always a sensitive."
"Only to a certain degree. It's like...a muscle. If you don't use it, it will start to atrophy. In the case of the Force, there's a certain optimal training period. Beyond that age, it becomes harder to teach a sensitive how to tap into it. The older the student, the more difficult it is to teach him or her. I was about Brenna's age now when Kenobi started to teach me, and that was close to the end of the optimal period. Wedge and some of the others were older, and as a result, they never did develop to the same level as the original order of Jedi."
"Oh," said Han.
"I had hoped," Luke went on, "that Briande and I could train them at least well enough to find other sensitives—preferably still within the optimal training age—and pass on what they had learned, so that the next generation of Jedi would be even stronger than the first. Briande and I had been working, too, to find younger students. Unfortunately, those were also the ones Lippa went after first."
There was a long silence. Finally Han said, "You don't belong here, Luke."
"What?" Luke said, not understanding.
"What are you doing here? You don't belong on this Deities-forsaken sandball any more than I do."
"I grew up here," Luke reminded him. "It's my home."
"You may have grown up here, but it's not your home. Face it, this place is just an isolated chunk of sand. You can't even make a decent living farming here."
"It was never my intention to get rich, Han. And it's precisely because it's an isolated chunk of sand that I'm here. Ben Kenobi knew what he was doing when he brought me here as a baby. I brought Brenna for the same reasons."
Han was confused again. "What do you mean?"
Luke patiently tried to explain. "Every Force-sensitive creates a kind of...ripple in the Force, a peculiar sensation that another trained sensitive can identify as that person's presence. When a sensitive draws on the Force, or feels strong emotions, it creates even more movement. And the closer you are to the source of the disturbance, physically or emotionally, the easier it is to sense. Brenna is the offspring of two Force-sensitives. The Force is strong with her. She has the potential of causing a wave that can be felt across immense distances. The farther I can keep her from Etan Lippa, the better my chances of protecting her."
"I don't get it," Han said. "What's so special about Etan Lippa, anyway? I mean, I know he used to be a student of yours, and that you think he was responsible for Briande's death—"
"Not 'think,'" Luke told him. "Know."
"Okay, know. But I thought you Jedi were supposed to be able to handle people like that. What makes Lippa so different?"
Luke kept his eyes straight ahead on the terrain. "Han...what do you get if you rearrange the letters in Etan Lippa's name?"
"Uh, I dunno. Lippa Etan. Papil Nate. Pal—Sweet Deities, Luke! Palpatine?"
Luke nodded. "I didn't realize it myself until Briande was killed."
"But...the Emperor's dead...isn't he?"
"You and I both have children. Why not Palpatine? I'm almost positive that Etan Lippa is his son."
Han let out a long breath. If Luke was 'almost positive,' then it was a certainty.
"At any rate," Luke went on, "he's managed to separate the Jedi, and destroy each one individually, just like Palpatine and Vader did."
"Beginning with you," Han said.
Luke looked at him. "What do you mean?"
Han shook his head. For a Jedi Knight, Luke could be incredibly dense sometimes. "You were the first one to leave," Han said. "Any military strategist worth his salt knows that the easiest way to weaken a unit is to separate it from its leader."
Luke stared at his friend, suddenly realizing the truth of the statement. Ordinarily, Han might have been worried about the effects on Luke's driving, but this was Tatooine—there was nothing to run into.
Finally, Luke turned his head forward again, but his mind was not on the terrain. "Force help me," he whispered to himself. "I helped Lippa kill my friends..."
.
.
.
"You're supposed to be finding my brother," Lucy complained, "not going out on dates."
"Will you relax?" Brenna replied. "I've taken care of finding your brother."
"What about that guy at the cantina? It might have been him."
"If it was Rupert, he'll be back. And so will I."
"Maybe I should go find him myself instead of staying cooped up here while you go partying and picking up strange guys."
Brenna sighed. "We've been over this before. The ones who planted the bomb on your ship know what you look like. I, on the other hand, have no likeness on record. Therefore, I have to be the one to find Rupert. If you two hadn't been so stupid as to not set a time to meet at this cantina, things would be a lot easier. If he made it down in one piece, he's probably trying to fix your ship, and he can't be there and at the cantina at the same time. When he does get to the cantina, he'll know when to expect me. So cool your turbos and be patient, and I will find your brother for you. In the meantime, you get to enjoy the amenities of a Tatooine five-star hotel."
"Great," Lucy muttered with negative enthusiasm. Their 'five-star' hotel room was hardly more than a Jawa-hole. "Just what I always wanted."
.
.
.
The bantha was crazed. It had had a fracture on its right foreleg, the result of being forced to run too quickly down a sand dune. It had been in pain, but all its owner cared about was speed, and the poor creature had been whipped with charge prods and jabbed with spear points to go farther, and faster. The beast was in agony, and its owner just didn't care.
Rupert had been on his way back to the cantina when it hit him. His eyes became glassy. His steps grew uncertain, like the bantha's. When the owner prodded the poor beast again, Rupert cried out and grabbed his left side. The passersby began to give him a somewhat wider berth, and looked at him curiously.
Two blocks over, the bantha staggered, and Rupert staggered into the street. The bantha collapsed to its front knees. At the same time, Rupert fell to his own knees.
And that's when it happened. Just as curious on-lookers started to gather around Rupert, and the rare good samaritan in Mos Eisley was asking if he needed medical assistance, the bantha's owner prodded the beast one last time, and the animal's mind snapped.
Ignoring the pain in its front leg, the bantha regained its feet, and then reared up, throwing its abusive owner to the ground and signing its own death warrant. Its owner climbed to his feet, grabbed the nearby spear, and shook the point at the bantha threateningly. The bantha ignored the spear point and trampled the owner, killing him instantly. It screamed and circled around in a wild dance, threatening the pedestrians, and scaring other banthas with riders.
Two blocks over, Rupert was going crazy. He screamed in volumes and pitches that human vocal cords weren't designed produce, making sounds that would cause him to be hoarse for days to come. His arms flailed, striking anyone who tried to come near him.
Those who saw Rupert simply assumed he had o.d.'d on something illegal. It was a common enough occurrence in Mos Eisley. Someone called it in, a routine call.
Brenna was walking up the street when the bantha went mad. She stopped and watched from a distance for a few seconds, too far away to be in immediate danger. But something pulled her to the left. She followed the pull, recognizing it as the same sort of intuition that had told her to leave the housing complex with Lucy.
Two blocks over, another sort of crowd was gathering, and Brenna's intuition told her that this was somehow important, more important than the bantha, and she needed to be there. She ran to whatever was causing the excitement, and pushed her way to the center of the crowd.
To her amazement, it was Lando!
He had flipped out, just like the bantha, and somehow Brenna knew that the two were connected.
"Lando!" she shouted.
Rupert didn't hear her. He was too caught up in the bantha's rampage.
Brenna started towards him, pulling free of the arms that tried to hold her back, and at the same time willing with all her might that she could protect him from whatever it was that was doing this to him. She thought about building a mental barrier of quiet around him, like an invisible bubble, protecting him against the equally unseen forces that were attacking him.
And suddenly…the madness was gone
Brenna didn’t know it, but she was projecting a Force-shield around Rupert, protecting him from the waves of rage and insanity that the bantha gave off. She’d never done anything like this before, had never even tried to. If she hadn’t been so frightened during her father’s “attacks,” hadn’t been caught up in the spill-over of what her father was feeling, had understood the source of the “attacks,” she might have been able to protect her father from their full effects. But this time, she was more distanced from the problem, wasn’t feeling it directly, wasn’t caught up in it herself, wasn’t frightened by what was going on, and this time, without knowing what she was doing, really, she projected a bubble of protection around Rupert.
Rupert panted with the aftermath of the madness, no longer caught in its grip, but still wrapped in the immediate memory of the madness.
"Lando?" Brenna queried.
Rupert registered neither the voice nor the name right away. So far, the only thing that was beginning to register was that the madness had been taking him, and now…it wasn't.
"Lando!" Brenna said again.
Rupert felt hands on his shoulders, then on his waist, trying to pull him up.
"Lando, are you okay?"
The voice and the name finally penetrated his consciousness. There was only one person who called him by that name, and with that voice: it was the one person he didn't want to see him like this. He turned his head and confirmed what his ears had already told him. "You," he said weakly, struggling to regain his breath. "What are you doing here?"
Two blocks over, somebody shot the bantha dead. Rupert didn't even flinch.
"We have a date, remember?" Brenna said. She pulled him through the ring of onlookers, out of the blinding light of the twin Tatooine suns, into the sheltered archway of a building and wiped his face with her hands. "Are you all right?"
He nodded and waved a vague hand. "Medical condition. Sorry."
Brenna glanced up over the edge of the archway at the twin suns. "The heat around here can get to anyone," she said. "Let's go find someplace cooler, and get you something to drink."
Ten minutes later, they were sitting at a bar in a small cantina across the street. Rupert nursed his trisilade quietly as Brenna watched him. Embarrassment and shame had replaced the disorientation of his broken link with the bantha.
"So…what kind of medical condition is it?" Brenna asked.
Rupert shook his head. "Nobody seems to know. I've been to the best and the most expensive doctors and specialists in the galaxy, and they can't figure it out. Every once in a while, I just…weird out."
"'Weird-out'?"
"For lack of a better name."
Brenna rested her cheek on the heel of her hand. "Can I ask you something?"
"Ask."
"I mean, I don't want to embarrass you."
"Ask," Rupert repeated.
"Are you really a pilot?"
"Yeah." He waited for the rest of it.
"And they let you fly?"
Rupert smiled and shook his head. "First of all," he replied, "I'm a private pilot, not commercial."
"Private, huh? But don't you have to disclose any medical conditions before hiring out, even as a private pilot?"
Rupert's smile turned lopsided, as Han's always did when he was being wry. "I guess it's a good thing I've got my own ship, then."
Brenna was surprised. "You've got your own ship? You said something yesterday about getting back to your ship, but I thought you were speaking metaphorically, as in, I have to get back to the ship on which I work. Your own ship? I'm impressed."
"Don't be. She's just an old freighter. Everyone who sees her says she looks like a piece of junk. She's not even space-worthy at the moment. But she belonged to my Dad before me, and I wouldn't trade her for all the spice on Kessel. I love to fly her every chance I can get."
"Well, if you've got your own ship, I think I'll let you pay for the refreshments." She looked at him and asked, "What if you, uh, 'weird-out' at a critical time?"
"Ah, well, you see, that's the thing. There's no medication or treatment that helps my condition, except spacing. For some reason, I don't weird-out in space. Or at least, I haven't yet. And if I do, I've got the best co-pilot in the galaxy. He'll take over and get us safely where we're going."
"So…when do I get to meet your co-pilot?"
"Oh, he's…tending to some important business right now. I'm not even sure exactly where he is at the moment, or I'd introduce you."
"Great," Brenna commented. "A pilot who 'weirds out' and a co-pilot who can't be found. Makes me want to fly Lando Spaceways."
He took a sip of his trisilade without looking at her, then put the glass back down. "Look," he said quietly, "You don't have to stick around. I'm all right now."
"It was a joke."
"I know. But still…"
"We still have a date," she reminded him.
Rupert gave a self-deprecating laugh. "I guess you saw I'm not exactly the type girls want to go out with."
"Why not?" Brenna asked. "I mean, you're weird and all, but you're still kinda cute, and it was awfully sweet of you to come to my rescue." The fact that she really hadn't needed rescuing was irrelevant. He hadn't known that, and it was still sweet of him to want to.
Rupert had not spent his entire life under Han's tutelage for nothing. He inclined his head with a gallant flourish of his hand. "It was my pleasure, m'lady."
Brenna propped her elbows on the table and leaned forward on her fists. "Look, I can't promise anything beyond today, and as soon as my contact arrives at the cantina, I'm out of here. That's true whether you flip out or not. But in the meantime…"
"You still want to go out?"
"Lando," she said, "I have a question to ask you, and the entire brief future of our relationship depends upon the answer."
"Oh? Is it the sort of question like, 'Is it genetic?' The answer is, I don't know."
"No. The question is, how do you feel about hoverskating?"
"Hoverskating?"
"Yeah."
"They have hoverskating rinks here on Tatooine?"
.
.
.
Sports had always been something that Rupert was good at. With his gleeat-like reflexes and his uncanny sense of balance, he'd long ago taken to hoverskating as naturally as a shalim to water. But he had once weirded-out at a hoverskating rink, and he hadn't been back since. Until now.
Now, in the presence of this nameless mechanic from Tatooine, he felt for the first time as if he could do anything. She was remarkable. She hadn't run away screaming when she'd learned about his weirding-out, and in her presence, the madness was gone. He could be himself, and he had never felt more himself than now, being with her.
Brenna, for her part, was surprised by the unique experience of actually having a partner who, in some ways, was better than she was! Lando didn't have her sense of musicality, but what he lacked in that area he more than made up for in strength and agility. And even though Lando had obviously never skated with a partner before, they paired well together—once he learned to shorten his gliding stride to accommodate hers. With the music playing all around and the rink being relatively uncrowded at that time of day, their hoverskating was more like dancing, and was the closest thing to flying without a ship that she had ever experienced. It was exhilarating.
After a while, Brenna suggested that he throw her into a relatively simple jump that she had landed a hundred times on her own, and had performed for him earlier, just to show off. She landed this time on her butt, because she had underestimated the amount of strength with which he could throw her.
He apologized profusely as if it was his fault. Brenna laughed it off and asked him to do it again, exactly the same way. The second time she managed to keep on her feet, although she two-footed the landing. Eventually she managed to get the hang of it, although she was frustrated with the amount of time it took her. If she had known that it took professional skaters a hundred times as long to master that particular move with a new partner, she might have been more forgiving of herself.
Despite that difficulty, however, Lando was by far the best partner with whom she had ever hoverskated. But the exertion from hoverskating and from another drain that Brenna was only subconsciously aware of began taking their toll, and eventually she had to quit, even though Rupert was ready to keep going. "Enough!" she laughed, breathing hard. "Lando, I would love to stay and keep hoverskating with you, but you've worn me out."
Rupert skated a circle around her and came to a halt. "Do I pass the 'let's continue this relationship' test?"
"Yes, yes!" she laughed, trying to regain her breath. "If I can! But I'm done in for today. And besides, I have to check the cantina for my contact. Let's go get our shoes back and blow this sand-hole."
Rupert gallantly offered her his arm and led her off the hover rink to the skate rental 'droid, who returned their shoes and dutifully sanitized the skates for the next renters. Arm in arm they left the rink. Rupert stopped when she did, thinking that she meant to take her leave, and the knowledge that this, his very first date ever, was over made him a little despondent.
But she smiled and said, "I had a great time today."
"Me, too, Mechanic" Rupert replied, meaning it. He'd gotten into the habit of calling her 'Mechanic' since she still hadn't given him her name.
"But…" Brenna said.
"But?"
"This contact I'm meeting at the cantina. He could show up today. He could show up tomorrow. He could show up a week from now. When he does, I'll have to leave."
"I understand," Rupert said.
"I just…don't want to make any promises I can't keep."
"I wouldn't want you to."
"In the meantime, if you want to keep seeing each other, that's fine with me. But no promises, and no commitments. And if I can't meet you tomorrow or the next day or whenever, that's the reason. Not your weirding-out. After I meet him, I'll be leaving. I just don't know when that will be. Okay?"
"Okay. No commitments. I understand."
She smiled then, and stepped in closer. She looked as if she wanted him to kiss her. She was just standing there, face turned upwards, looking at him.
Without conscious will, Rupert felt his arms come up around her. Her smile broadened, and she stepped in closer. Her arms came up around him, and the stirrings inside Rupert returned. But these were from within himself, not from somewhere he couldn't define. He closed his eyes against them, but was unwilling to drop his arms or move away. On the one hand, he knew that these were primal animal urges. On the other hand, they were so real. They were coming from within himself, not out of nowhere and everywhere, like so many others.
He must have hesitated too long, because she pulled away slightly, muttered, "Aw, Hell," and stretched up to press her mouth against his.
The sensations inside Rupert exploded.
He didn't know exactly what to do, but he had vague memories of biting and pinning and holding and just taking. He didn't know where those memories originated. There was no explanation for them. Maybe it was what he was supposed to do.
He tightened his hold on her, pulling her closer. He inhaled her scent deeply, letting it fill him and wash over him. He felt his mouth, his whole body, responding to her, pressing against her, wanting to devour her, to incorporate her into himself. He pressed harder.
But then he felt her pushing away, and it was all he could do to let her go.
"H-hey," she said, a little nervously. "Not so hard, okay?"
Rupert forced his arms to drop. "Sorry," he croaked hoarsely, and turned away in shame.
"No, it's okay," Brenna said, and moved around in front of him. "Just...not so hard. Okay?"
Rupert raised his eyes to her face in confusion. "You...don't want to do it again, do you?"
"Sure," Brenna replied, shrugging. "As long as you don't crush me to death."
Rupert's expression was earnest. "I'll try not to," he promised, "but I'm not—I mean, I can't—"
"Great Deities!" Brenna said, realizing what the problem was. "You've never done this before, have you?"
"Sorry," Rupert said ruefully.
"Oh, for crying out loud." Brenna reached up, took his face between her palms, and stretched up and touched her lips to Rupert's.
The sensations filled him again, but he pushed them down, forcing himself to remain in control.
She broke away. "Would you relax? I promise, I won't hurt you."
She stretched up and kissed him again. Rupert caught another whiff of her scent, and it was nearly too much for him. His desire for her was so strong, it was hard to think of anything else. He wanted to hold her, to be even closer to her than he was. He raised his hands to her shoulders, careful to just rest them there, trying hard to remember not to crush her.
Her hands moved down from his cheeks to his chest, then slid around to his back, pulling him to her a little closer. She seemed to be saying that a little pressure was okay.
The sensations intensified, but he found that they didn't overwhelm him to the point where he couldn't stop himself from crushing her. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her in any way. He'd been afraid that he wouldn't be able to control himself, but somehow, with her, he felt protected against all the outside feelings and impressions, the ones that weren't his own, and he started to let himself enjoy the experience.
Oh, it was glorious! He'd experienced lust from a thousand sources he didn't understand, confusing images and animal instincts originating from bizarre ethereal resonances he thought must have been from dark recesses inside his own mind, but this was different. This was his own real passion, not dream-lust, and the depths of his soul from which it arose didn't seem at all bizarre or ethereal. It was real, the most real thing he'd ever experienced.
His mouth wanted to open, and he tentatively parted his lips, just a little. When he found Brenna was willing, he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer without crushing her.
He felt her moan against him, and knew it was a moan of pleasure, and not of protest, and the feeling that knowledge gave him was...exquisite.
Rupert sensed that she wanted more, just as he did, but he remembered a piece of advice his father had given to him when they'd had one of their talks about girls.
Always leave 'em wanting a little more, Han had said. Ya gotta give 'em a reason to come back.
He pulled away from her then, a little, not even aware that he was teasing, until she pulled him back hungrily.
Then Rupert remembered something his mother had once said. She hadn't actually been talking about girls; she'd been talking about eating chocolates, but he was sure she'd been talking about something else, too.
The best way is just to savor it. Let it melt in your mouth. Draw it out. Otherwise, you just swallow it, it's gone, and you've gained all those calories for very little in return.
Rupert knew that there had been something more in that statement, because just then his father had strolled by and popped one of the little goodies into his mouth, and his mother had complained, Hey! I'm trying to teach Rupert an important lesson about life, and you're ruining it!
His father had stopped then, surprised, and around a mouthful of goo had asked What lesson is that?
Exasperated his mother had said How to savor the pleasures of life.
His father had gotten an incredulous expression on his face, crossed his arms, leaned back against the wall, and said, Kid, ya gotta go for the gusto, seize the moment, live in the now, and take what you can before somebody else gets it.
His mother had shaken her head and said, That's not exactly the lesson I was trying to teach.
His father had replied that it was the only one worth learning.
Later, Rupert had asked Lucy if their mother had given her the lesson about the chocolates, and if she knew what it was supposed to mean. Lucy's reaction was somewhat different than what he had hoped for. Mom has chocolates? she said, and dashed out of the room in search of the treats.
But the kiss was now, and it was so much sweeter than chocolates. Rupert's hands found her hair, and it was so incredibly soft that his fingers just had to play in it.
He left off kissing her mouth and found her neck, and the intensity with which he covered her bare skin with his mouth made her gasp. Her sweet-salty taste became as much a part of him as the faint scent of the soap she washed with, and the faint body-smells beyond the soap, growing stronger as they both became more breathless. Then he found her mouth again, and it was just as wonderful as it had been before.
Eventually, by some mutual unspoken agreement, they pulled apart.
"You know," Brenna said, "for someone who's never done this before, you learn fast."
Rupert grinned and kissed her again.
-----
Chapter Twelve
Brenna shook her head at Lando's offer to go inside the cantina with her, then held out a restraining hand when he started to go in with her. "I have to do this alone," she said. "How would it look on a job interview if I take my boyfriend with me?"
"Am I your boyfriend, then?"
"Sure."
Rupert grinned. "Okay. But I'll just wait right here outside the door. If I hear anything like a fight, I'll come running."
"Oh, puh-leez," Brenna said. "I'll be fine."
"Hey, you can't keep all the good fights to yourself!"
"Oh. Well, when you put it like that…" She kissed him on the cheek and ducked inside.
The bartender was on duty. Brenna went up to him without preamble. "Well?" she asked.
"Haven't seen your friend yet," the bartender replied.
She sighed. "All right. Keep looking for him. Remember. You don't get your money until I meet up with him."
"Yeah, yeah."
She went outside and met up with Rupert again. "Well," she said, "We've got a little more time together."
Rupert pumped his arms. "Yes!" She raised her eyebrows, and he modified his reaction. "Uh, I mean, sorry your job didn't come through. How about I take you to dinner for consolation?"
She laughed, then looked at the sky that was beginning to glow orange with the twin sunsets. "Actually, I really do need to get going. I'll meet you at the hover rink same time tomorrow."
"Okay," Rupert said. "Can I walk you home? I mean, to wherever you're staying?"
"No. Stay here. I'll see you at the hover rink tomorrow."
Rupert watched her go until she was out of sight. As she left, so did the feeling of being protected against the bizarre forces that caused him to weird-out. But it wasn't so bad, now, and even Tatooine was sometimes relatively at peace. Rupert looked at the cantina entrance. He had business here, too, but of a different sort. He pulled the pilot's insignia out of his pocket, pinned it to his collar, and went inside.
There was no one who fit the bill for being Ben Owens. The only humans in the cantina were a seedy-looking bunch sitting together at a table. Rupert studied them until one of them noticed him, then looked away. He hadn't seen any insignias. Well, he had one more day with—whatever her name was. The only trouble was, he still had no news of Lucy, Poul, or Chewbacca.
And he had a decision to make, as well, whether or not to return to his ship, or engage a room for the night. All this hoverskating wasn't getting the Falcon any more close to spaceworthy, but being with her was such a unique and profound experience that he really didn't care about the time lost. But he was alone now, and could feel the etherial pressures closing in around him. At the ship, he would be back with his mortu, and somehow things were always a little easier around the mortu. On the other hand, it would mean walking back in the dark, which was not an idea he relished, not given the native life on Tatooine. He decided to drink a glass of water while he made his decision and went up to the bar.
The bartender came up to him, but before he could place his order, the bartender noticed his insignia and said, "Hey, your girlfriend's lookin' for you."
"'Girlfriend'?" Rupert echoed.
"Yeah. The one with the insignia to match yours."
Rupert sighed. If Lucy was here alone, it meant that she hadn't found Owens. "That's not my 'girlfriend.' That's my sister."
"Yeah, whatever. She said you'd pay me to tell you when she'll meet you here."
"How much?"
"Three hundred," the bartender said, tripling the amount Brenna had actually promised.
Rupert didn't argue. He paid the credits. The bartender immediately wished he had quadrupled the sum.
"When?" Rupert asked.
The bartender sighed. "One hour before sunset. You just missed her."
"What day?"
"Every day."
Rupert thanked the man, paid for a glass of water, drained it, and headed back to his ship.
.
.
.
"What's eatin' you, buddy?" Han asked. "You haven't said a word in three hours."
"I'm fine."
"Hey, come on, talk to me. What's on your mind?"
"I don't think you want to hear it."
Han sighed. "You know, a few years of being a father have improved my listening skills. If nothing else, I can hear when the kids are getting into trouble. Besides, I thought we were friends."
Luke gave a little laugh. "I was just...wasting energy thinking about what I should have done instead of what I did."
"And what's that?"
"I should've...given Brenna to somebody else to look after and helped the Jedi stop Lippa. For that matter, I should've listened to Briande and never taken him as a student in the first place."
"And who would you have trusted to look after Brenna?"
"Nobody. Well, maybe Wedge. Except that if anything happened to me, he would've done his best to train her."
"I'm hurt," Han said.
"Sorry, Han. But you and Leia had your own kids, and you were always in the spotlight. It would have to have been someone with a low profile in order to protect her from Lippa."
"Hmm," Han mused. "But if you had asked Wedge, that would still have left you one Jedi down."
"Maybe. But I can't help thinking I should've done something differently."
"Well, I guess there's no use crying over spilt gava juice."
"Like I said," Luke reminded him, "I was wasting energy. Let's go see what we can find out about the kids, shall we?"
They crested a dune, and Mos Eisley lay before them.
"Boy, this brings back memories, doesn't it?" Luke said.
"Yeah. Too bad we don't have a holocube of the kids with us."
Luke grinned and reached inside his robe. "Speak for yourself," he said, and pulled out a tiny crystalline cube. Luke began tapping various sides in sequence.
Han peered at the cube. "Oh, that's good, Luke. A picture of a beach is really going to help us now."
But as he spoke, the miniature image became animated. Luke tapped three more sides, and the image dissolved into the face of the dark-haired woman. Another few taps, and that picture dissolved and became a smiling toddler with long, golden hair. After another sequence of taps, the picture shifted again and became a slightly older child.
Han had seen full-blown models of the holo-shift cubes of course—he even had a couple at home—but the smallest was at least two hand-spans' width on each side, set into a base which hid the circuitry. This one was only about an inch on each side, with no base.
Han whistled. "Expensive little toy you've got there."
"One of my few indulgences."
"Wouldn't it be more economical to buy a bunch of cubes and put a different picture in each one?"
"I don't like the thought of leaving holos of Brenna laying around where somebody might pick them up. I usually keep this one frozen on the first picture in case something happens to me. I don't want Lippa finding out what she looks like now."
"Whoever invented that should put it on the market. He'd make a fortune."
"She. And she's dead."
"Oh? Who was it?"
"Rassa Kiatta. The cube was a present given to me at Brenna's naming ceremony."
Han shook his head. "I'm sorry, Luke. Rassa was the first one to disappear, wasn't she?"
"After Briande."
Luke tapped the sides of the cube again. The image changed to the most recent holo of Brenna. Han gaped at it open-mouthed. "That's Brenna?"
"Something wrong?"
"No, no. She's, uh, she's a very pretty girl, that's all. Let's go."
.
.
.
Brenna headed toward the cantina with a hopeful feeling. Lando had excused himself from the hover rink early, after extracting her promise to meet him the next day if she could, and saved her the trouble of having to lose him before she went to the cantina. If she found Rupert, she would show that she was capable of doing much more than her father gave her credit for. If Rupert were already waiting, she could meet him and take him back to the room before it got completely dark, then surprise her father by meeting him at the cantina instead of Rupert. The only hitch would be if her father got there before her.
Suddenly, strong hands grabbed her from behind and pulled her into an alley, covering her mouth so that she couldn't cry out. Brenna felt a momentary panic. Then she imagined her captor's throat constricted, an iron band tightening around his windpipe…
Then she heard a familiar voice. "Brenna!"
Brenna froze. Her choke-hold was forgotten.
"This one must be yours, Luke," Han said hoarsely, rubbing his throat. "I recognize the family resemblence."
"Dad?" Brenna said.
Luke ignored her temporarily and put his hand on Han's arm. "Are you all right?"
"Fine. Or I will be once Rupert is safe. Got any ideas on how to get him out of there?"
"I'm working on one. Brenna, you made me a promise, remember?"
"I remember. I said I wouldn't use the Force unless I had to. How was I to know he was a friend? I bet you wouldn't be so angry if he really were attacking me."
Luke sighed. "Where's Lucy?"
Brenna grinned. "I rented a room at a place called 'Spacer's Hideaway.' Good name, huh?"
"Which room?"
"A-4."
"I want you to go back there and wait for me."
Brenna's grin disappeared. "No, I want to stay and help."
"Brenna, right now you'd be more of a hindrance than a help. Rupert's in there. We saw him go in right before we got here. And right behind him were a couple of thugs who appeared to be waiting for him. Deities know how many others are inside. Those men are dangerous, and they'd like nothing more than to capture Rupert, Lucy, and...anyone who's associated with them."
"But I can help. You know I can."
"Not this time. Go back to the room. I'll be along as soon as I can."
"Dad—"
"You'd better get moving, Bren. It'll be dark soon."
Brenna stopped protesting and nodded. She started to go without further argument, but her father said, "Wait a second."
She turned back, hopeful that her father had changed his mind.
Luke unpinned the Falcon's pilot insignia from her lapel. "I may need this," he explained, then tilted his head to show that he wanted her to go.
Han watched her leave incredulously. "How'd you do that? Cripes, my kids would be arguing with me from now 'til sun-up if they wanted to stay." He rubbed his throat. "You're right about her being strong with the Force."
"She could have killed you."
"I don't think she meant to hurt me. I think she just wanted to knock me out for a while. Besides, she thought I was attacking her."
"Even so, I've told her a hundred times not to—"
"Well let's forget it for now and worry about Rupert. You said you had an idea for getting him out?"
Luke grinned as he tossed the pilot's insignia into the air and caught it again. "I think the old-fashioned approach might be best," he said. "Especially if they're waiting for a girl to meet him."
.
.
.
Rupert nursed his glass of water patiently. The bar seemed unusually quiet tonight for the number of people present, but he thought of that only as a welcome change. He looked at the door again, but there was still nothing to see. He took another small sip from his glass.
Suddenly there was a noise from the direction of the door. He thought it might be Lucy, but it was only an old drunk, dressed in desert robes. The man staggered inside despite the attempts of some of the customers to turn him back outside. "I jus' wan use the f'cilities—" he slurred loudly, shrugging off the hands. Rupert saw a few of the customers exchange glances with each other. One of them glanced at Rupert, then said something to the others. They moved aside to let the old man into the cantina, and Rupert turned back to his drink.
The drunk stumbled a couple of steps to his left as he walked and excused himself loudly when he bumped into some of the customers. Just as he was about to pass Rupert, he tripped in the other direction and knocked into Rupert, spilling Rupert's glass of water into his lap.
"Hey! Watch it!" Rupert said, saving what little he could of the liquid in his glass.
"Shorry—" the drunk apologized. But as the old man moved his hand away from the table again, Rupert felt something land in his lap, hidden from the view of the other customers. Rupert picked it up and was about to return it to him, when he saw what it was. To the other customers, it looked like he was staring at his wet lap.
Rupert looked back up in surprise, but the drunk had already passed by. And then, suddenly, he felt the eyes of the other customers on him, and he realized why the old man had made the drop surreptitiously. At the same time, he also realized that the 'drunk' had provided him with a convenient excuse to follow him into the men's room.
A little nervously, he palmed the insignia, picked up his napkin and wiped at his pants. Then he stood up and headed for the men's room. He paused at the bar long enough to say, "Uh, get me another one, will you?" just to alleviate suspicion. He hoped.
As he entered the lavatory, he noticed that a couple of the customers started to follow him. The old man, looking not quite so old and perfectly sober, pulled him to one sifde and pressed a finger to his lips, warning Rupert into silence. A second later, the door opened again, and the two men who had followed Rupert started to come in. As soon as the door slid closed, the old man clipped the two men on the back of the neck in quick succession, and they crumpled to the floor.
Rupert stared at the unconscious figures on the floor, then at the stranger. He held out the pilot's insignia. "Where did you get this?"
"From my daughter, actually. Lucy gave it to her. I'm Luke Skywalker—or Ben Owens, if you prefer. You're Rupert."
It wasn't a question, but Rupert nodded anyway.
"Your father's waiting outside."
"My Dad's here?"
Luke nodded. "He'll explain later. Right now we've got to get out of here before the others come looking for us. I'd rather not go by the front door, if it's all the same to you."
"What about Lucy and Poul?"
"They're safe. Think you can fit through that window there if I give you a lift up?"
Rupert looked up at the small window near the ceiling. "How will you get out?"
The old man smiled. "Don't worry. I'll manage."
Rupert put his foot into Luke's cupped hands and stood up. The window opened easily enough from the inside. As soon as he pushed it out, he saw Han on the outside, waiting below to give him a hand down. "Dad!" he said.
Han grinned. "Good to see you, too, son. But keep your voice down, will you?"
Rupert wriggled through the window into his father's arms. Just as Han was helping him to his feet, he heard a crashing noise coming from the lavatory, followed by the hum of something powerful and the beginning of a scream cut off in mid sound. A second later, Luke's head and shoulders appeared at the window. He pulled himself through and landed on his feet before Han could even turn back to give him a hand down.
"What the Hell happened?" Han asked.
"Either I'm really getting old, or they're getting faster," Luke said. "Let's get out of here before more company arrives!"
Han grinned as he led the way out of the alley. "Just like old times, eh?"
Brenna shook her head at Lando's offer to go inside the cantina with her, then held out a restraining hand when he started to go in with her. "I have to do this alone," she said. "How would it look on a job interview if I take my boyfriend with me?"
"Am I your boyfriend, then?"
"Sure."
Rupert grinned. "Okay. But I'll just wait right here outside the door. If I hear anything like a fight, I'll come running."
"Oh, puh-leez," Brenna said. "I'll be fine."
"Hey, you can't keep all the good fights to yourself!"
"Oh. Well, when you put it like that…" She kissed him on the cheek and ducked inside.
The bartender was on duty. Brenna went up to him without preamble. "Well?" she asked.
"Haven't seen your friend yet," the bartender replied.
She sighed. "All right. Keep looking for him. Remember. You don't get your money until I meet up with him."
"Yeah, yeah."
She went outside and met up with Rupert again. "Well," she said, "We've got a little more time together."
Rupert pumped his arms. "Yes!" She raised her eyebrows, and he modified his reaction. "Uh, I mean, sorry your job didn't come through. How about I take you to dinner for consolation?"
She laughed, then looked at the sky that was beginning to glow orange with the twin sunsets. "Actually, I really do need to get going. I'll meet you at the hover rink same time tomorrow."
"Okay," Rupert said. "Can I walk you home? I mean, to wherever you're staying?"
"No. Stay here. I'll see you at the hover rink tomorrow."
Rupert watched her go until she was out of sight. As she left, so did the feeling of being protected against the bizarre forces that caused him to weird-out. But it wasn't so bad, now, and even Tatooine was sometimes relatively at peace. Rupert looked at the cantina entrance. He had business here, too, but of a different sort. He pulled the pilot's insignia out of his pocket, pinned it to his collar, and went inside.
There was no one who fit the bill for being Ben Owens. The only humans in the cantina were a seedy-looking bunch sitting together at a table. Rupert studied them until one of them noticed him, then looked away. He hadn't seen any insignias. Well, he had one more day with—whatever her name was. The only trouble was, he still had no news of Lucy, Poul, or Chewbacca.
And he had a decision to make, as well, whether or not to return to his ship, or engage a room for the night. All this hoverskating wasn't getting the Falcon any more close to spaceworthy, but being with her was such a unique and profound experience that he really didn't care about the time lost. But he was alone now, and could feel the etherial pressures closing in around him. At the ship, he would be back with his mortu, and somehow things were always a little easier around the mortu. On the other hand, it would mean walking back in the dark, which was not an idea he relished, not given the native life on Tatooine. He decided to drink a glass of water while he made his decision and went up to the bar.
The bartender came up to him, but before he could place his order, the bartender noticed his insignia and said, "Hey, your girlfriend's lookin' for you."
"'Girlfriend'?" Rupert echoed.
"Yeah. The one with the insignia to match yours."
Rupert sighed. If Lucy was here alone, it meant that she hadn't found Owens. "That's not my 'girlfriend.' That's my sister."
"Yeah, whatever. She said you'd pay me to tell you when she'll meet you here."
"How much?"
"Three hundred," the bartender said, tripling the amount Brenna had actually promised.
Rupert didn't argue. He paid the credits. The bartender immediately wished he had quadrupled the sum.
"When?" Rupert asked.
The bartender sighed. "One hour before sunset. You just missed her."
"What day?"
"Every day."
Rupert thanked the man, paid for a glass of water, drained it, and headed back to his ship.
.
.
.
"What's eatin' you, buddy?" Han asked. "You haven't said a word in three hours."
"I'm fine."
"Hey, come on, talk to me. What's on your mind?"
"I don't think you want to hear it."
Han sighed. "You know, a few years of being a father have improved my listening skills. If nothing else, I can hear when the kids are getting into trouble. Besides, I thought we were friends."
Luke gave a little laugh. "I was just...wasting energy thinking about what I should have done instead of what I did."
"And what's that?"
"I should've...given Brenna to somebody else to look after and helped the Jedi stop Lippa. For that matter, I should've listened to Briande and never taken him as a student in the first place."
"And who would you have trusted to look after Brenna?"
"Nobody. Well, maybe Wedge. Except that if anything happened to me, he would've done his best to train her."
"I'm hurt," Han said.
"Sorry, Han. But you and Leia had your own kids, and you were always in the spotlight. It would have to have been someone with a low profile in order to protect her from Lippa."
"Hmm," Han mused. "But if you had asked Wedge, that would still have left you one Jedi down."
"Maybe. But I can't help thinking I should've done something differently."
"Well, I guess there's no use crying over spilt gava juice."
"Like I said," Luke reminded him, "I was wasting energy. Let's go see what we can find out about the kids, shall we?"
They crested a dune, and Mos Eisley lay before them.
"Boy, this brings back memories, doesn't it?" Luke said.
"Yeah. Too bad we don't have a holocube of the kids with us."
Luke grinned and reached inside his robe. "Speak for yourself," he said, and pulled out a tiny crystalline cube. Luke began tapping various sides in sequence.
Han peered at the cube. "Oh, that's good, Luke. A picture of a beach is really going to help us now."
But as he spoke, the miniature image became animated. Luke tapped three more sides, and the image dissolved into the face of the dark-haired woman. Another few taps, and that picture dissolved and became a smiling toddler with long, golden hair. After another sequence of taps, the picture shifted again and became a slightly older child.
Han had seen full-blown models of the holo-shift cubes of course—he even had a couple at home—but the smallest was at least two hand-spans' width on each side, set into a base which hid the circuitry. This one was only about an inch on each side, with no base.
Han whistled. "Expensive little toy you've got there."
"One of my few indulgences."
"Wouldn't it be more economical to buy a bunch of cubes and put a different picture in each one?"
"I don't like the thought of leaving holos of Brenna laying around where somebody might pick them up. I usually keep this one frozen on the first picture in case something happens to me. I don't want Lippa finding out what she looks like now."
"Whoever invented that should put it on the market. He'd make a fortune."
"She. And she's dead."
"Oh? Who was it?"
"Rassa Kiatta. The cube was a present given to me at Brenna's naming ceremony."
Han shook his head. "I'm sorry, Luke. Rassa was the first one to disappear, wasn't she?"
"After Briande."
Luke tapped the sides of the cube again. The image changed to the most recent holo of Brenna. Han gaped at it open-mouthed. "That's Brenna?"
"Something wrong?"
"No, no. She's, uh, she's a very pretty girl, that's all. Let's go."
.
.
.
Brenna headed toward the cantina with a hopeful feeling. Lando had excused himself from the hover rink early, after extracting her promise to meet him the next day if she could, and saved her the trouble of having to lose him before she went to the cantina. If she found Rupert, she would show that she was capable of doing much more than her father gave her credit for. If Rupert were already waiting, she could meet him and take him back to the room before it got completely dark, then surprise her father by meeting him at the cantina instead of Rupert. The only hitch would be if her father got there before her.
Suddenly, strong hands grabbed her from behind and pulled her into an alley, covering her mouth so that she couldn't cry out. Brenna felt a momentary panic. Then she imagined her captor's throat constricted, an iron band tightening around his windpipe…
Then she heard a familiar voice. "Brenna!"
Brenna froze. Her choke-hold was forgotten.
"This one must be yours, Luke," Han said hoarsely, rubbing his throat. "I recognize the family resemblence."
"Dad?" Brenna said.
Luke ignored her temporarily and put his hand on Han's arm. "Are you all right?"
"Fine. Or I will be once Rupert is safe. Got any ideas on how to get him out of there?"
"I'm working on one. Brenna, you made me a promise, remember?"
"I remember. I said I wouldn't use the Force unless I had to. How was I to know he was a friend? I bet you wouldn't be so angry if he really were attacking me."
Luke sighed. "Where's Lucy?"
Brenna grinned. "I rented a room at a place called 'Spacer's Hideaway.' Good name, huh?"
"Which room?"
"A-4."
"I want you to go back there and wait for me."
Brenna's grin disappeared. "No, I want to stay and help."
"Brenna, right now you'd be more of a hindrance than a help. Rupert's in there. We saw him go in right before we got here. And right behind him were a couple of thugs who appeared to be waiting for him. Deities know how many others are inside. Those men are dangerous, and they'd like nothing more than to capture Rupert, Lucy, and...anyone who's associated with them."
"But I can help. You know I can."
"Not this time. Go back to the room. I'll be along as soon as I can."
"Dad—"
"You'd better get moving, Bren. It'll be dark soon."
Brenna stopped protesting and nodded. She started to go without further argument, but her father said, "Wait a second."
She turned back, hopeful that her father had changed his mind.
Luke unpinned the Falcon's pilot insignia from her lapel. "I may need this," he explained, then tilted his head to show that he wanted her to go.
Han watched her leave incredulously. "How'd you do that? Cripes, my kids would be arguing with me from now 'til sun-up if they wanted to stay." He rubbed his throat. "You're right about her being strong with the Force."
"She could have killed you."
"I don't think she meant to hurt me. I think she just wanted to knock me out for a while. Besides, she thought I was attacking her."
"Even so, I've told her a hundred times not to—"
"Well let's forget it for now and worry about Rupert. You said you had an idea for getting him out?"
Luke grinned as he tossed the pilot's insignia into the air and caught it again. "I think the old-fashioned approach might be best," he said. "Especially if they're waiting for a girl to meet him."
.
.
.
Rupert nursed his glass of water patiently. The bar seemed unusually quiet tonight for the number of people present, but he thought of that only as a welcome change. He looked at the door again, but there was still nothing to see. He took another small sip from his glass.
Suddenly there was a noise from the direction of the door. He thought it might be Lucy, but it was only an old drunk, dressed in desert robes. The man staggered inside despite the attempts of some of the customers to turn him back outside. "I jus' wan use the f'cilities—" he slurred loudly, shrugging off the hands. Rupert saw a few of the customers exchange glances with each other. One of them glanced at Rupert, then said something to the others. They moved aside to let the old man into the cantina, and Rupert turned back to his drink.
The drunk stumbled a couple of steps to his left as he walked and excused himself loudly when he bumped into some of the customers. Just as he was about to pass Rupert, he tripped in the other direction and knocked into Rupert, spilling Rupert's glass of water into his lap.
"Hey! Watch it!" Rupert said, saving what little he could of the liquid in his glass.
"Shorry—" the drunk apologized. But as the old man moved his hand away from the table again, Rupert felt something land in his lap, hidden from the view of the other customers. Rupert picked it up and was about to return it to him, when he saw what it was. To the other customers, it looked like he was staring at his wet lap.
Rupert looked back up in surprise, but the drunk had already passed by. And then, suddenly, he felt the eyes of the other customers on him, and he realized why the old man had made the drop surreptitiously. At the same time, he also realized that the 'drunk' had provided him with a convenient excuse to follow him into the men's room.
A little nervously, he palmed the insignia, picked up his napkin and wiped at his pants. Then he stood up and headed for the men's room. He paused at the bar long enough to say, "Uh, get me another one, will you?" just to alleviate suspicion. He hoped.
As he entered the lavatory, he noticed that a couple of the customers started to follow him. The old man, looking not quite so old and perfectly sober, pulled him to one sifde and pressed a finger to his lips, warning Rupert into silence. A second later, the door opened again, and the two men who had followed Rupert started to come in. As soon as the door slid closed, the old man clipped the two men on the back of the neck in quick succession, and they crumpled to the floor.
Rupert stared at the unconscious figures on the floor, then at the stranger. He held out the pilot's insignia. "Where did you get this?"
"From my daughter, actually. Lucy gave it to her. I'm Luke Skywalker—or Ben Owens, if you prefer. You're Rupert."
It wasn't a question, but Rupert nodded anyway.
"Your father's waiting outside."
"My Dad's here?"
Luke nodded. "He'll explain later. Right now we've got to get out of here before the others come looking for us. I'd rather not go by the front door, if it's all the same to you."
"What about Lucy and Poul?"
"They're safe. Think you can fit through that window there if I give you a lift up?"
Rupert looked up at the small window near the ceiling. "How will you get out?"
The old man smiled. "Don't worry. I'll manage."
Rupert put his foot into Luke's cupped hands and stood up. The window opened easily enough from the inside. As soon as he pushed it out, he saw Han on the outside, waiting below to give him a hand down. "Dad!" he said.
Han grinned. "Good to see you, too, son. But keep your voice down, will you?"
Rupert wriggled through the window into his father's arms. Just as Han was helping him to his feet, he heard a crashing noise coming from the lavatory, followed by the hum of something powerful and the beginning of a scream cut off in mid sound. A second later, Luke's head and shoulders appeared at the window. He pulled himself through and landed on his feet before Han could even turn back to give him a hand down.
"What the Hell happened?" Han asked.
"Either I'm really getting old, or they're getting faster," Luke said. "Let's get out of here before more company arrives!"
Han grinned as he led the way out of the alley. "Just like old times, eh?"
-----
Chapter Thirteen
They made it back to the speeder without further incident. Rupert drew his note from Wedge out of his inner jacket pocket and handed it to Luke, who broke the seal, read the brief missive, and then looked up at Rupert with an odd expression.
"What's it say?" Han wanted to know.
Luke handed him the note, which contained two brief lines:
Teach the Creature.
Edge of Chasm.
The riddle meant nothing to Han, but Luke seemed to comprehend something that made him concerned. And his concern, judging by the way he was looking at Rupert, centered on the boy.
To Rupert, Luke said, "Did Wedge say anything else?"
"No, only to give this to you myself, as soon as I saw you." Rupert started to climb into the driver's seat, but Luke motioned him to the back instead. "I think I'll drive," he said. "You just tell me where to go."
Rupert gave directions back to the Falcon, and soon they were speeding over the sand outside of Mos Eisley.
As they skimmed along, Rupert, sitting in back with the Artoo unit, seemed to Han to be even more quiet than usual. For some reason, the boy seemed reluctant to leave Mos Eisley.
The terrain on this side of Mos Eisley was more rocky and mountainous than the side from which Han and Luke had approached the city earlier, and Han was glad that Luke's attention was back to operating the speeder instead of dwelling on Lippa. But as they rounded a hill, it was Rupert who gave Han cause for concern.
The boy was suddenly staring straight ahead, breathing hard, making a kind of growling noise as he exhaled.
Han ignored the danger of moving around inside a travelling speeder and undid his seat-strap. "Rue!" Han said, maneuvering to where he could take Rupert's face into his hands. "Hey, Rue! Stop weirding-out on me, son! Come on, Rupert, snap out of it!"
Rupert's eyes flicked to his father vaguely, but didn't focus.
Han glanced at Luke, who had stopped the speeder and was now turning around in his own seat. "This is what I was talking about." Han said. "We've taken him to several doctors, but they can't find anything medically wrong with him." He turned back to Rupert, and slapped the boy's cheek. "Stop it, Rue!"
Luke put a hand on Han's shoulder briefly, to intervene, then took Rupert's head with his hands and turned it until Rupert was facing him instead of Han. "What do you see?" he asked gently, touching Rupert at some level other than physical.
"People-things," Rupert said between growl-pants, looking directly at Luke. "Many people-things. Faces strange. Wrapped. Can't see eyes. Try get inside ship. I protect."
"Where?" Luke asked. "Where's the ship?"
Rupert pointed. Luke turned to face forward again and started the speeder going again. "Direct me, Han," he said. "Tell me where he points."
Han looked from his son to his friend uncomprehendingly, but did as Luke asked. "Uh...a little to the left, Luke. Towards that hill. You mind telling me what the Hell's going on?"
"People-things," said Luke. "With strange faces, wrapped so that you can't see the eyes, trying to get inside the ship. Sound familiar?"
Put like that, Rupert's ramblings began to make sense. "Sandpeople?" Han asked. "But how would Rupert know if sandpeople were attacking the ship?"
"I'll explain later. In the meantime, if you can reach behind Artoo, there's a laser rifle stashed in the compartment there."
.
.
.
It took a few minutes to round the last hill between them and the ship, and Rupert's strange behavior grew worse with each passing second. At first, the growl-pants became heavier and deeper, but he was still able to point out the way to Luke, who pushed the speeder to the limits of its abilities. Then, as they rounded the last bend, Rupert suddenly emitted a high-pitched snarl and began shaking his head violently. Han was extremely worried about the boy, but Luke seemed more concerned about getting to the ship in a hurry.
Han wasn't even sure that there were any sandpeople, but as the hill gave way to a view of the Falcon sheltered under the overhang of the next hill, Han could see a dozen or more of the Tusken raiders clustered around the ship. There were even a few banthas waiting nearby.
As Han took aim with the laser rifle, Rupert suddenly screamed, causing him to miss.
"What—?" Han said, looking around.
Luke was already stopping the speeder. "Get the sandpeople!" Luke ordered. "I'll take care of Rupert!"
Rupert lapsed into a whining moan as Han turned his attention, with difficulty, back to the Falcon. One of the sandpeople also had a laser rifle and raised it towards the speeder. Han took aim, and the raider fell back, dead. Another one tried to pick up the rifle, but Han picked him off next. The rest abandoned their attack on the Falcon and ran for their banthas. Han sent a couple of shots in their direction to make sure they wouldn't change their minds, and then turned back to Luke and Rupert.
Rupert was still moaning, but Luke had Rupert's face in his hands again. "You have to separate yourself, Rupert," the Jedi was saying quietly. "You're not the mortu. You're Rupert Solo."
Rupert had his eyes closed tightly, but tears squeezed out between the lids. An inhuman whimper came from his throat.
"I know," Luke said. "But you can't do anything for him. You have to separate yourself. Let go of the mortu."
He motioned for Han to take over comforting Rupert, and climbed out of the speeder as Han climbed into the back.
"What the Hell is going on?" Han asked Luke, and pulled Rupert's head against his chest.
"I'll tell you later," the Jedi promised. "Right now he needs you to hold him and talk to him. Just keep reminding him who he is and where he is."
Han murmured to Rupert while Luke sprinted the rest of the way to the Falcon on foot, and ran inside the ship, which the Raiders had already breached. A moment later, Rupert stiffened in Han's arms and made a cry that sounded like pain, though as far as Han could see, there was nothing physically wrong with the boy. Then the cry died, and he closed his eyes. When he opened them again a moment later, he was still breathing in gasps, but his eyes were clearer, and he nodded. "I'm all right, now," he said, a little shakily.
"What happened, Rue?" Han asked. But Rupert only shook his head in reply.
Luke returned to the speeder. "You can go in now," he said, but he looked sad as he said it.
Rupert shrugged off Han's offer of help and walked to the Falcon by himself. Han followed him up the gangplank. Just inside the door lay the mortu. There was an ugly blaster wound in its side which exposed internal organs that had been hopelessly damaged. On its neck was a small burn mark, just deep enough to reach the carotid artery, a burn-cut which could only have been made by a lightsaber. Han nodded to himself. Luke would make it clean. But he still didn't understand what was going on with Rupert.
Rupert knelt by the dead animal's body and rubbed the fur on its lifeless head, then buried his face into its fur where it wasn't eviscerated. Han thought the boy was going to cry again, but he didn't.
"I want to bury him," Rupert said, without looking up.
"You can't, Son," Han replied quietly. "The ground here is too hard to break without the proper equipment."
"I don't want to leave him for scavengers."
"I'll see if I find some combustibles. We'll build him a pyre instead."
"Should we build one for the sandpeople, too?"
Han glanced at Luke, who shook his head. "We'll just move the bodies away from the ship. They'll come back for their own, but I don't think they'll bother us any more."
"All right," Rupert said.
Rupert stayed with his dead pet while Han collected the materials for the pyre and Luke moved the bodies of the Tusken raiders. Then Rupert carried the animal outside, and the three of them gathered around the pile of combustibles. Rupert gently placed the mortu on top and stepped back. Han drew his blaster and aimed it at the base of the pile. Flames sprang up quickly and engulfed the mortu's body. Rupert watched for a moment, then turned and headed back to the ship.
Han waited until Rupert had gone, then turned to Luke. "Talk to me, Luke. What the Hell is going on with Rupert? You know, don't you?"
"Han...have you ever heard of the Whills?"
"No," Han replied. "What are they?"
"Actually, you should be asking what were they. And the answer is that no one really knows for sure. But they're believed to have been an ancient race of people who had just discovered space-travel before their world was destroyed by some sort of natural disaster."
"That's nice, Luke," Han said, "but what's it got to do with Rupert?"
Luke explained patiently. "The stories say that among other things, many of the Whills were Creature Empaths—natural Force-sensitives with an ability to communicate with lower lifeforms on an empathic level. It's believed that some of the Whills escaped the disaster that destroyed their world and interbred with other humanoid races."
"Let me get this straight," Han said. "You think Rupert is a Whill?"
"Not quite. The Whills have long since died out. All that's left are a few scattered legends, and maybe a few descendants here and there. In fact, there's a theory that all Force-sensitives are descendants of the Whills. But Rupert is a Creature Empath, and that leaves us with a problem."
"What's that?"
"He's got to be trained."
Han shook his head in the flickering firelight. "No way. I don't want Lippa going after Rupert any more than you want him going after Brenna."
"Believe me, Han, I know how you feel. But in Rupert's case, there isn't any choice. You saw Wedge's note?"
"Yeah. Weird note."
"Not really. I know exactly what Wedge was saying. 'Teach the Creature'—teach the Creature Empath—Rupert."
"Sorry, Luke, but I don't buy it. I'm not going to jeopardize Rupert's safety just because you want to train more Jedi Knights and don't want to risk your own daughter."
"Did you read the rest of it? 'Edge of the Chasm.' These 'weirding out' episodes, as you call them, means he’s in danger of falling into what’s called the ‘Chasm'—becoming feral, becoming more animal than human. Rupert needs to learn to distance himself from that Chasm, learn to separate what’s him as opposed to the impressions he gets from the animals around him. Han...he's not the first person to display signs of Creature Empathy. There have been others over the years. Yoda managed to find a few in time, and was able to train them. He found some others, too, but for them, it was too late."
"What do you mean, 'too late'?"
Luke held his friend's eyes. "They went insane, Han."
Han was stunned. "What?" he said.
"This...particular kind of Force-talent, if it's not developed and understood for what it is, can cause the sensitive to lose his mind. Those 'weirding out' episodes are symptoms." Luke moved around the dying fire and put a hand on Han's shoulder. "On the Whills' homeworld, where there were many Creature Empaths, training must have been...a natural part of the maturation process. Once their world was gone and that talent started to appear sporadically, the knowledge that these sensitives even needed to be trained largely disappeared. But you are—or rather, Rupert is—very lucky. Yoda told me about them, and I told Wedge."
"Wedge was spending a lot of time with him," Han murmured. "It seemed to help a little."
"You were lucky Wedge even recognized it. You'd be luckier if Yoda was still around to work with Rupert, but I'm afraid all you've got is me. He's got to be trained, Han. Whatever Wedge gave him was probably very rudimentary."
"He told Leia that if she knew where you were, she should send Rupert to you as soon as possible."
"That was good advice. If he goes on like this without any guidance, he'll end up in a mental hospital."
Han stared at his friend for a long time. Luke said nothing more, since he had already said everything he could.
Finally, Han looked away, and asked quietly, "Can you do it—train him, I mean? Keep him sane?"
"Maybe," Luke replied. "Most of the ones Yoda trained kept their sanity. They weren't Jedi Knights, but they mostly managed to carve out a life spacing. I think Rupert could probably get to that point." He inhaled a deep breath. "Rupert is the first Creature Empath I've ever encountered myself, but I know the techniques that Yoda used. And when he slipped into that empathic trance with the mortu, he was still reachable." Luke smiled a little. "It may interest you to know Creature Empaths generally have a heightened sexual drive. They are also extremely loyal to their friends and families."
"Luke...what happened to the ones that Yoda trained? Where are they today?"
Luke didn't flinch from the question. He gave Han the only answer he could, the honest one. "Darth Vader killed them."
There was a silence. Then Han inhaled a ragged breath. "Maybe you'd...better go see to the girls. I need some time to digest this."
Luke nodded and wordlessly squeezed his friend's shoulder before heading to the speeder. When he had gone, Han remained where he was for a long while. Then he looked back at the Falcon .
How, Han wondered sadly, did one tell one's son that he just became a target for the galaxy's most cold-blooded killer?
They made it back to the speeder without further incident. Rupert drew his note from Wedge out of his inner jacket pocket and handed it to Luke, who broke the seal, read the brief missive, and then looked up at Rupert with an odd expression.
"What's it say?" Han wanted to know.
Luke handed him the note, which contained two brief lines:
Teach the Creature.
Edge of Chasm.
The riddle meant nothing to Han, but Luke seemed to comprehend something that made him concerned. And his concern, judging by the way he was looking at Rupert, centered on the boy.
To Rupert, Luke said, "Did Wedge say anything else?"
"No, only to give this to you myself, as soon as I saw you." Rupert started to climb into the driver's seat, but Luke motioned him to the back instead. "I think I'll drive," he said. "You just tell me where to go."
Rupert gave directions back to the Falcon, and soon they were speeding over the sand outside of Mos Eisley.
As they skimmed along, Rupert, sitting in back with the Artoo unit, seemed to Han to be even more quiet than usual. For some reason, the boy seemed reluctant to leave Mos Eisley.
The terrain on this side of Mos Eisley was more rocky and mountainous than the side from which Han and Luke had approached the city earlier, and Han was glad that Luke's attention was back to operating the speeder instead of dwelling on Lippa. But as they rounded a hill, it was Rupert who gave Han cause for concern.
The boy was suddenly staring straight ahead, breathing hard, making a kind of growling noise as he exhaled.
Han ignored the danger of moving around inside a travelling speeder and undid his seat-strap. "Rue!" Han said, maneuvering to where he could take Rupert's face into his hands. "Hey, Rue! Stop weirding-out on me, son! Come on, Rupert, snap out of it!"
Rupert's eyes flicked to his father vaguely, but didn't focus.
Han glanced at Luke, who had stopped the speeder and was now turning around in his own seat. "This is what I was talking about." Han said. "We've taken him to several doctors, but they can't find anything medically wrong with him." He turned back to Rupert, and slapped the boy's cheek. "Stop it, Rue!"
Luke put a hand on Han's shoulder briefly, to intervene, then took Rupert's head with his hands and turned it until Rupert was facing him instead of Han. "What do you see?" he asked gently, touching Rupert at some level other than physical.
"People-things," Rupert said between growl-pants, looking directly at Luke. "Many people-things. Faces strange. Wrapped. Can't see eyes. Try get inside ship. I protect."
"Where?" Luke asked. "Where's the ship?"
Rupert pointed. Luke turned to face forward again and started the speeder going again. "Direct me, Han," he said. "Tell me where he points."
Han looked from his son to his friend uncomprehendingly, but did as Luke asked. "Uh...a little to the left, Luke. Towards that hill. You mind telling me what the Hell's going on?"
"People-things," said Luke. "With strange faces, wrapped so that you can't see the eyes, trying to get inside the ship. Sound familiar?"
Put like that, Rupert's ramblings began to make sense. "Sandpeople?" Han asked. "But how would Rupert know if sandpeople were attacking the ship?"
"I'll explain later. In the meantime, if you can reach behind Artoo, there's a laser rifle stashed in the compartment there."
.
.
.
It took a few minutes to round the last hill between them and the ship, and Rupert's strange behavior grew worse with each passing second. At first, the growl-pants became heavier and deeper, but he was still able to point out the way to Luke, who pushed the speeder to the limits of its abilities. Then, as they rounded the last bend, Rupert suddenly emitted a high-pitched snarl and began shaking his head violently. Han was extremely worried about the boy, but Luke seemed more concerned about getting to the ship in a hurry.
Han wasn't even sure that there were any sandpeople, but as the hill gave way to a view of the Falcon sheltered under the overhang of the next hill, Han could see a dozen or more of the Tusken raiders clustered around the ship. There were even a few banthas waiting nearby.
As Han took aim with the laser rifle, Rupert suddenly screamed, causing him to miss.
"What—?" Han said, looking around.
Luke was already stopping the speeder. "Get the sandpeople!" Luke ordered. "I'll take care of Rupert!"
Rupert lapsed into a whining moan as Han turned his attention, with difficulty, back to the Falcon. One of the sandpeople also had a laser rifle and raised it towards the speeder. Han took aim, and the raider fell back, dead. Another one tried to pick up the rifle, but Han picked him off next. The rest abandoned their attack on the Falcon and ran for their banthas. Han sent a couple of shots in their direction to make sure they wouldn't change their minds, and then turned back to Luke and Rupert.
Rupert was still moaning, but Luke had Rupert's face in his hands again. "You have to separate yourself, Rupert," the Jedi was saying quietly. "You're not the mortu. You're Rupert Solo."
Rupert had his eyes closed tightly, but tears squeezed out between the lids. An inhuman whimper came from his throat.
"I know," Luke said. "But you can't do anything for him. You have to separate yourself. Let go of the mortu."
He motioned for Han to take over comforting Rupert, and climbed out of the speeder as Han climbed into the back.
"What the Hell is going on?" Han asked Luke, and pulled Rupert's head against his chest.
"I'll tell you later," the Jedi promised. "Right now he needs you to hold him and talk to him. Just keep reminding him who he is and where he is."
Han murmured to Rupert while Luke sprinted the rest of the way to the Falcon on foot, and ran inside the ship, which the Raiders had already breached. A moment later, Rupert stiffened in Han's arms and made a cry that sounded like pain, though as far as Han could see, there was nothing physically wrong with the boy. Then the cry died, and he closed his eyes. When he opened them again a moment later, he was still breathing in gasps, but his eyes were clearer, and he nodded. "I'm all right, now," he said, a little shakily.
"What happened, Rue?" Han asked. But Rupert only shook his head in reply.
Luke returned to the speeder. "You can go in now," he said, but he looked sad as he said it.
Rupert shrugged off Han's offer of help and walked to the Falcon by himself. Han followed him up the gangplank. Just inside the door lay the mortu. There was an ugly blaster wound in its side which exposed internal organs that had been hopelessly damaged. On its neck was a small burn mark, just deep enough to reach the carotid artery, a burn-cut which could only have been made by a lightsaber. Han nodded to himself. Luke would make it clean. But he still didn't understand what was going on with Rupert.
Rupert knelt by the dead animal's body and rubbed the fur on its lifeless head, then buried his face into its fur where it wasn't eviscerated. Han thought the boy was going to cry again, but he didn't.
"I want to bury him," Rupert said, without looking up.
"You can't, Son," Han replied quietly. "The ground here is too hard to break without the proper equipment."
"I don't want to leave him for scavengers."
"I'll see if I find some combustibles. We'll build him a pyre instead."
"Should we build one for the sandpeople, too?"
Han glanced at Luke, who shook his head. "We'll just move the bodies away from the ship. They'll come back for their own, but I don't think they'll bother us any more."
"All right," Rupert said.
Rupert stayed with his dead pet while Han collected the materials for the pyre and Luke moved the bodies of the Tusken raiders. Then Rupert carried the animal outside, and the three of them gathered around the pile of combustibles. Rupert gently placed the mortu on top and stepped back. Han drew his blaster and aimed it at the base of the pile. Flames sprang up quickly and engulfed the mortu's body. Rupert watched for a moment, then turned and headed back to the ship.
Han waited until Rupert had gone, then turned to Luke. "Talk to me, Luke. What the Hell is going on with Rupert? You know, don't you?"
"Han...have you ever heard of the Whills?"
"No," Han replied. "What are they?"
"Actually, you should be asking what were they. And the answer is that no one really knows for sure. But they're believed to have been an ancient race of people who had just discovered space-travel before their world was destroyed by some sort of natural disaster."
"That's nice, Luke," Han said, "but what's it got to do with Rupert?"
Luke explained patiently. "The stories say that among other things, many of the Whills were Creature Empaths—natural Force-sensitives with an ability to communicate with lower lifeforms on an empathic level. It's believed that some of the Whills escaped the disaster that destroyed their world and interbred with other humanoid races."
"Let me get this straight," Han said. "You think Rupert is a Whill?"
"Not quite. The Whills have long since died out. All that's left are a few scattered legends, and maybe a few descendants here and there. In fact, there's a theory that all Force-sensitives are descendants of the Whills. But Rupert is a Creature Empath, and that leaves us with a problem."
"What's that?"
"He's got to be trained."
Han shook his head in the flickering firelight. "No way. I don't want Lippa going after Rupert any more than you want him going after Brenna."
"Believe me, Han, I know how you feel. But in Rupert's case, there isn't any choice. You saw Wedge's note?"
"Yeah. Weird note."
"Not really. I know exactly what Wedge was saying. 'Teach the Creature'—teach the Creature Empath—Rupert."
"Sorry, Luke, but I don't buy it. I'm not going to jeopardize Rupert's safety just because you want to train more Jedi Knights and don't want to risk your own daughter."
"Did you read the rest of it? 'Edge of the Chasm.' These 'weirding out' episodes, as you call them, means he’s in danger of falling into what’s called the ‘Chasm'—becoming feral, becoming more animal than human. Rupert needs to learn to distance himself from that Chasm, learn to separate what’s him as opposed to the impressions he gets from the animals around him. Han...he's not the first person to display signs of Creature Empathy. There have been others over the years. Yoda managed to find a few in time, and was able to train them. He found some others, too, but for them, it was too late."
"What do you mean, 'too late'?"
Luke held his friend's eyes. "They went insane, Han."
Han was stunned. "What?" he said.
"This...particular kind of Force-talent, if it's not developed and understood for what it is, can cause the sensitive to lose his mind. Those 'weirding out' episodes are symptoms." Luke moved around the dying fire and put a hand on Han's shoulder. "On the Whills' homeworld, where there were many Creature Empaths, training must have been...a natural part of the maturation process. Once their world was gone and that talent started to appear sporadically, the knowledge that these sensitives even needed to be trained largely disappeared. But you are—or rather, Rupert is—very lucky. Yoda told me about them, and I told Wedge."
"Wedge was spending a lot of time with him," Han murmured. "It seemed to help a little."
"You were lucky Wedge even recognized it. You'd be luckier if Yoda was still around to work with Rupert, but I'm afraid all you've got is me. He's got to be trained, Han. Whatever Wedge gave him was probably very rudimentary."
"He told Leia that if she knew where you were, she should send Rupert to you as soon as possible."
"That was good advice. If he goes on like this without any guidance, he'll end up in a mental hospital."
Han stared at his friend for a long time. Luke said nothing more, since he had already said everything he could.
Finally, Han looked away, and asked quietly, "Can you do it—train him, I mean? Keep him sane?"
"Maybe," Luke replied. "Most of the ones Yoda trained kept their sanity. They weren't Jedi Knights, but they mostly managed to carve out a life spacing. I think Rupert could probably get to that point." He inhaled a deep breath. "Rupert is the first Creature Empath I've ever encountered myself, but I know the techniques that Yoda used. And when he slipped into that empathic trance with the mortu, he was still reachable." Luke smiled a little. "It may interest you to know Creature Empaths generally have a heightened sexual drive. They are also extremely loyal to their friends and families."
"Luke...what happened to the ones that Yoda trained? Where are they today?"
Luke didn't flinch from the question. He gave Han the only answer he could, the honest one. "Darth Vader killed them."
There was a silence. Then Han inhaled a ragged breath. "Maybe you'd...better go see to the girls. I need some time to digest this."
Luke nodded and wordlessly squeezed his friend's shoulder before heading to the speeder. When he had gone, Han remained where he was for a long while. Then he looked back at the Falcon .
How, Han wondered sadly, did one tell one's son that he just became a target for the galaxy's most cold-blooded killer?
-----
Chapter Fourteen
Luke went to the lodging station whose name Brenna had given him. He had no difficulty finding the room. It was one of the few with a lamp still on by the time he arrived. He knocked on the door, said Brenna's name softly, and she opened it immediately.
The room was not exactly top-quality. The decor was cheap, clustered around the equipment for those mindless entertainments some of Tatooine's citizens and visitors were so fond of. Luke was glad to see that they were switched off.
There was a connecting doorway, and Luke assumed that Lucy was in the next room. That was fine. He was anxious to meet his niece, but he first needed to speak with Brenna alone.
"Did you find Rupert?" Brenna asked.
"Yes. He's safely back with his ship. His father's with him."
"Then it's time for us to talk."
"I agree." Luke indicated the chairs by the entertainment area. It was not exactly the most ideal place, but it was the only sitting area available. Brenna was unable to hold back an excited smile as she sat down and waited for her father to speak. Luke's expression was sober. He knew what Brenna wanted of him, but he waited until she was seated to dash her hopes. "Brenna, I can't train you."
The smile faltered for a second, then came back. "Oh, I know you can't train me right now," she said. "I understand that. You have to take care of this other problem first."
"No, Brenna. I can't train you, period."
She laughed. "What do you mean? You're Luke Skywalker. Of course you can. I remember those stories you told me when I was sick with Sand Fever. I always wondered how you knew them. I could never find any record of them in the literature."
Luke shook his head sadly. "I've always regretted telling them to you. But you were so sick that when you begged me for stories about the Jedi, I'm afraid that I...gave in to a moment of weakness. I never dreamt that you would memorize them, word for word. If I had known, I never would have done it."
"How can you say that? Those stories meant everything to me!"
"I'm sorry, Bren. It's my fault. I didn't know how obsessed you'd become with the Jedi until it was too late. It never even occurred to me to censor your reading material until I caught you with that book-tape. Even then, when I saw the kinds of things you were reading, I thought...it was a passing childhood fancy. What you read were highly romanticized accounts, with only a grain of truth in them. Rather than draw your attention to the stories, I tried to steer you towards other things. When I finally realized that wasn't working and forbade you to read any more of them, it was too late."
"But I feel the Force. I know I do. Even if those stories aren't all true, it doesn't matter. I still want to become a Jedi."
"I know you do, and if things were different..."
"What things?" Brenna asked. "What things need to be different for you to train me? Tell me what I have to do, and I'll do it."
Luke ran the fingers of both hands through his hair in frustration. "It's nothing you can do, Bren. It's just the way things are." He paused, then said, “Brenna, the way things are is not ideal. There’s something I have to tell you, and you’re not going to like it. I do have to take on a new student, but it’s not by choice.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I’m not choosing to teach Rupert, but—”
“What?!”
“Rupert is a special case. I don’t have a choice about whether or not to teach him. Your situation is different. If I could choose to teach you, I would, but—”
She stared at him incredulously. “You’re taking on a new student, and it’s not me?”
“Brenna...your situation and Rupert’s are entirely different. He’s not going to become a Jedi Knight. I’m only teaching him enough to be able to survive. His unique gifts will destroy him, if he’s left untrained. But your gift will destroy you if you use it!”
She shook her head as she failed to process what Luke was trying to tell her. “That makes absolutely no sense whatsoever!”
Luke ran his fingers through his hair. He knew this would not be easy. “Brenna, if I don’t teach Rupert, he’ll spend the rest of his life in a mental hospital, probably spending most of his time in a drugged stupor. You don’t want that for your cousin, do you?”
“What? No, of course not. But that doesn’t make sense.”
“It does if you understand his particular condition. You, on the other hand, are in a different situation. The more you use your Force-talent, the more danger you’re in.”
“That makes even less sense.”
Luke sighed. “Let me try to explain it to you another way. You devoured the stories I told you when you were sick, but there was one story I left out—probably the most important story. I never told you this story, because you needed to heal, and I didn’t want to...upset your state of mind. This story does not have the happy ending that the others did.”
“Go on.”
“It’s...about your mother. How she died.”
“She died in an aerocar crash when I was two.”
“No. She died in a crash, but it was an escape pod. I’m not even sure where, exactly, because she didn’t know herself. She was in a desperate flight to escape a powerful enemy, and the most she could do was buy herself a few minutes to contact me through the Force, to warn me of the danger, and let me know how much she loved us.”
“What danger?”
Luke nodded. He was getting to that. “let me start at the beginning of the story.” He took a deep breath, let it out again, then drew in another before he began. "Once upon a time," he said, "there was a young Jedi Knight named Luke Skywalker, who was sad because he was the only one. So he decided to train others. His first student was Briande Brellis, a beautiful young woman who was so good and wise that Skywalker fell in love with her. The young woman returned his love, and they came to live as husband and wife. Together they set out to teach other Jedi Knights. At first, Luke and Briande were very happy. Their students were good of heart, and the number of Jedi knights increased ten-fold."
"Briande Brellis..." Brenna mused. "That name sounds fam—no, wait! Brenna Brellis? The Administrator of Croyus Four?"
"She was your mother's sister. Her name was bestowed on you out of love. Despite all the terrible things that she did, there was still...good in her. She turned back from the Dark Side and gave up her life to save both me, and your mother. Your Mom wanted to find a way to keep her memory alive. So she named you after her, the person she was at the end."
"Sweet Force," Brenna murmured. She was silent for a long moment, trying to fathom the implications, but she couldn't. So she finally looked back up at her father. "Tell me the rest," she said.
Luke nodded. "One day, a young man named Etan Lippa came to see Skywalker and asked to be taught the ways of the Force." Luke paused, and switched from his third-person story-telling voice to his normal voice. "The Force was strong in him, but there was something...Dark in his heart. Your mother sensed it, and asked me not to take him as a student. But I thought that all he needed was a little love and acceptance, and so I agreed to train him. That was a huge mistake on my part—one I don’t intend to make again. I’ve given up teaching. Rupert is the sole exception, and that’s because I just can’t let my sister’s son live out his days in a mental institution.”
“Tell me about Etan Lippa.”
“He was...incredibly powerful. But he couldn’t let go of his anger and aggression. There was no fear in him, but there was jealousy. He was jealous of the love that your Mom and I shared. I tried to tell him that if he would just...let go of that jealousy, and open himself up to possibilities, that he might find a love of his own. Of course, that was all before I knew who he was, who I was dealing with. Your Mom figured it out, and told me in her last message.”
“Who was he?”
“Etan Lippa. Rearrange the letters, and you get the name ‘Palpatine.’ He’s Palpatine’s son. That’s why he was so strong in the Force. Is so strong. Stronger than any of the Jedi. Stronger than your Mom. Stronger than me.” Luke pierced her with his eyes. “Stronger than you.”
“So...what happened?”
"During that time when I tried to teach him, your mother became pregnant. Rather than sharing in our joy, Etan Lippa grew increasingly jealous of it. He saw how happy we were together, and became attracted to your Mom. She rejected his advances, but that only increased his desire for her. Then one day, I left the two of them alone together. I thought it would help if your mother talked to him alone, told him how things were, told him how happy she was with the family she already had, and how someday he could potentially have the same happiness with somebody else. But he took advantage of the situation and tried to force himself on her. He was stronger than your Mom, and her pregnancy made your mother heavy, slowed her down. But she contacted me through the Force, and I returned just in time to stop him. It was then that I finally told Lippa to leave, and never return.
"After he was gone, we still worried about him. We knew that he was very strong with the Force, and that there was a lot of anger inside him. But then you were born, and we tried not to think about him too much.
"But Etan Lippa swore revenge on your mother for rejecting him and me for interfering. Somehow, he found a way to instruct himself in the Force, and then he devised a plan to destroy everything that I loved, beginning with your mother. When I was away on one emergency, he lured her with reports of another emergency that required a Jedi's attention. Your mother gave you to the care of trusted friends—my sister Leia and her husband Han—you’ll meet Han before too long—and left, little suspecting that the 'emergency' was actually the bait for a trap. By the time she discovered the true nature of the 'emergency,' it was too late to escape. But before she died, she managed to send a telepathic message to me, warning me of Lippa's intentions, how strong he'd become, and of the danger that you were in.Because more than anything else—more than me, more than the other Jedi, more than your Mom—she realized that he wanted you. And that’s why you need to stop using the Force.
"Brenna...every Force-sensitive creates a unique ripple or current, if you will, that another sensitive can pick up, especially if they’re looking for it. And believe me, Lippa is looking for yours. If he ever traces the disturbance you can cause in the Force, he'll exact his revenge on me through you. That's why I changed our names, and moved to a world where you could grow up in relative safety. Before I left, I warned the other Jedi of Lippa, but that warning wasn't enough to save them. Lippa wants to destroy me, but even if he kills me, he won't be satisfied. He wants to destroy everything I've ever loved, which means the Jedi, the Alliance...and especially you. He has the potential and the desire to rebuild the Empire, and that makes him very, very dangerous. I wish I knew how to stop him, but I don't. The best I can do is try to protect you from him. If you don't use the Force, he can't feel your presence. That's why you need to learn the self-control to stop using the Force, and why I keep pushing you to study for the Academy entrance exam..."
When Luke's voice trailed off, Brenna shook her head. "No, Dad, you've got it wrong. Maybe he’s stronger than you. Maybe he’s stronger than me. But is he stronger than both of us put together? You can train me, and together—"
Luke interrupted. "Brenna...a whole legion of Jedi was unable to stop him. What he would do to you...would be even worse than what he did to the others. What I felt—those 'attacks,' as you call them—was nothing compared to what they felt. We were separated by light-years of space. Can you imagine what he would do to you? I can't let that happen to you."
"But if he's as powerful as you say and he destroys you, too, then there will be nothing to stop him."
"If that happens," Luke said softly, "I just hope he never finds you. Like I said, if you don't use the Force, he can't find you. The minute he senses your presence, he'll zero in on that disturbance like a homing signal."
"Dad, If you would just train me—"
Luke tried a different tact. "Train you for what? To be an outlaw? Because that's what the Jedi are, Bren."
"How can you say that? The Jedi—"
"I'm only speaking the truth. And I know better than anyone else alive, now. Even if there were no Etan Lippa to contend with, the Jedi are—or rather, were—nothing more than a gang of vigilantes. They operate outside of the laws of society. Would you really want to live like that?"
Brenna frowned. "When I researched the public records of Luke Skywalker, I found that you were instrumental in the passage of the Evidence Act, the bill that puts the burden of proof on the prosecution rather than on the defense."
"Because that's how it should be, Bren. That's how it was before the Empire. No one should be convicted just on another one's say-so. But the Jedi don't obey the same laws. They are self-appointed judge, jury, and in some case, executioners."
Brenna was silent for a moment, then she smiled and nodded. "Of course," she said. "It would be difficult to prove physical evidence through the Force. It only makes sense that the Jedi would operate outside the law. They would have to."
"And that contradiction doesn't bother you? That in order to serve justice, the Jedi go against it?"
Brenna shrugged. "Life is full of contradictions. If the system had a failsafe mechanism for finding and punishing the guilty, there wouldn't be any need for the Jedi, would there? Besides, I thought the Jedi were more concerned with protecting the innocent than in punishing the guilty."
"Sometimes it's impossible to see the difference. I'm just trying to show you that the Jedi aren't the heroes you seem to think they—"
Luke stopped suddenly and stared into the distance.
"Dad?"
He suddenly realized that by focusing in on the ripple he felt in the Force, he was also creating a ripple of his own. He pulled himself out of it quickly. "Brenna, go wake Lucy, then pack your things. We're getting out of here." He was already on his feet, opening the connecting door for her.
"Why? What's the matter?"
"It's Lippa. He's here, on Tatooine. Go wake Lucy and get your stuff together, and I mean now. And whatever you do, try not to use the Force."
Luke went to the lodging station whose name Brenna had given him. He had no difficulty finding the room. It was one of the few with a lamp still on by the time he arrived. He knocked on the door, said Brenna's name softly, and she opened it immediately.
The room was not exactly top-quality. The decor was cheap, clustered around the equipment for those mindless entertainments some of Tatooine's citizens and visitors were so fond of. Luke was glad to see that they were switched off.
There was a connecting doorway, and Luke assumed that Lucy was in the next room. That was fine. He was anxious to meet his niece, but he first needed to speak with Brenna alone.
"Did you find Rupert?" Brenna asked.
"Yes. He's safely back with his ship. His father's with him."
"Then it's time for us to talk."
"I agree." Luke indicated the chairs by the entertainment area. It was not exactly the most ideal place, but it was the only sitting area available. Brenna was unable to hold back an excited smile as she sat down and waited for her father to speak. Luke's expression was sober. He knew what Brenna wanted of him, but he waited until she was seated to dash her hopes. "Brenna, I can't train you."
The smile faltered for a second, then came back. "Oh, I know you can't train me right now," she said. "I understand that. You have to take care of this other problem first."
"No, Brenna. I can't train you, period."
She laughed. "What do you mean? You're Luke Skywalker. Of course you can. I remember those stories you told me when I was sick with Sand Fever. I always wondered how you knew them. I could never find any record of them in the literature."
Luke shook his head sadly. "I've always regretted telling them to you. But you were so sick that when you begged me for stories about the Jedi, I'm afraid that I...gave in to a moment of weakness. I never dreamt that you would memorize them, word for word. If I had known, I never would have done it."
"How can you say that? Those stories meant everything to me!"
"I'm sorry, Bren. It's my fault. I didn't know how obsessed you'd become with the Jedi until it was too late. It never even occurred to me to censor your reading material until I caught you with that book-tape. Even then, when I saw the kinds of things you were reading, I thought...it was a passing childhood fancy. What you read were highly romanticized accounts, with only a grain of truth in them. Rather than draw your attention to the stories, I tried to steer you towards other things. When I finally realized that wasn't working and forbade you to read any more of them, it was too late."
"But I feel the Force. I know I do. Even if those stories aren't all true, it doesn't matter. I still want to become a Jedi."
"I know you do, and if things were different..."
"What things?" Brenna asked. "What things need to be different for you to train me? Tell me what I have to do, and I'll do it."
Luke ran the fingers of both hands through his hair in frustration. "It's nothing you can do, Bren. It's just the way things are." He paused, then said, “Brenna, the way things are is not ideal. There’s something I have to tell you, and you’re not going to like it. I do have to take on a new student, but it’s not by choice.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I’m not choosing to teach Rupert, but—”
“What?!”
“Rupert is a special case. I don’t have a choice about whether or not to teach him. Your situation is different. If I could choose to teach you, I would, but—”
She stared at him incredulously. “You’re taking on a new student, and it’s not me?”
“Brenna...your situation and Rupert’s are entirely different. He’s not going to become a Jedi Knight. I’m only teaching him enough to be able to survive. His unique gifts will destroy him, if he’s left untrained. But your gift will destroy you if you use it!”
She shook her head as she failed to process what Luke was trying to tell her. “That makes absolutely no sense whatsoever!”
Luke ran his fingers through his hair. He knew this would not be easy. “Brenna, if I don’t teach Rupert, he’ll spend the rest of his life in a mental hospital, probably spending most of his time in a drugged stupor. You don’t want that for your cousin, do you?”
“What? No, of course not. But that doesn’t make sense.”
“It does if you understand his particular condition. You, on the other hand, are in a different situation. The more you use your Force-talent, the more danger you’re in.”
“That makes even less sense.”
Luke sighed. “Let me try to explain it to you another way. You devoured the stories I told you when you were sick, but there was one story I left out—probably the most important story. I never told you this story, because you needed to heal, and I didn’t want to...upset your state of mind. This story does not have the happy ending that the others did.”
“Go on.”
“It’s...about your mother. How she died.”
“She died in an aerocar crash when I was two.”
“No. She died in a crash, but it was an escape pod. I’m not even sure where, exactly, because she didn’t know herself. She was in a desperate flight to escape a powerful enemy, and the most she could do was buy herself a few minutes to contact me through the Force, to warn me of the danger, and let me know how much she loved us.”
“What danger?”
Luke nodded. He was getting to that. “let me start at the beginning of the story.” He took a deep breath, let it out again, then drew in another before he began. "Once upon a time," he said, "there was a young Jedi Knight named Luke Skywalker, who was sad because he was the only one. So he decided to train others. His first student was Briande Brellis, a beautiful young woman who was so good and wise that Skywalker fell in love with her. The young woman returned his love, and they came to live as husband and wife. Together they set out to teach other Jedi Knights. At first, Luke and Briande were very happy. Their students were good of heart, and the number of Jedi knights increased ten-fold."
"Briande Brellis..." Brenna mused. "That name sounds fam—no, wait! Brenna Brellis? The Administrator of Croyus Four?"
"She was your mother's sister. Her name was bestowed on you out of love. Despite all the terrible things that she did, there was still...good in her. She turned back from the Dark Side and gave up her life to save both me, and your mother. Your Mom wanted to find a way to keep her memory alive. So she named you after her, the person she was at the end."
"Sweet Force," Brenna murmured. She was silent for a long moment, trying to fathom the implications, but she couldn't. So she finally looked back up at her father. "Tell me the rest," she said.
Luke nodded. "One day, a young man named Etan Lippa came to see Skywalker and asked to be taught the ways of the Force." Luke paused, and switched from his third-person story-telling voice to his normal voice. "The Force was strong in him, but there was something...Dark in his heart. Your mother sensed it, and asked me not to take him as a student. But I thought that all he needed was a little love and acceptance, and so I agreed to train him. That was a huge mistake on my part—one I don’t intend to make again. I’ve given up teaching. Rupert is the sole exception, and that’s because I just can’t let my sister’s son live out his days in a mental institution.”
“Tell me about Etan Lippa.”
“He was...incredibly powerful. But he couldn’t let go of his anger and aggression. There was no fear in him, but there was jealousy. He was jealous of the love that your Mom and I shared. I tried to tell him that if he would just...let go of that jealousy, and open himself up to possibilities, that he might find a love of his own. Of course, that was all before I knew who he was, who I was dealing with. Your Mom figured it out, and told me in her last message.”
“Who was he?”
“Etan Lippa. Rearrange the letters, and you get the name ‘Palpatine.’ He’s Palpatine’s son. That’s why he was so strong in the Force. Is so strong. Stronger than any of the Jedi. Stronger than your Mom. Stronger than me.” Luke pierced her with his eyes. “Stronger than you.”
“So...what happened?”
"During that time when I tried to teach him, your mother became pregnant. Rather than sharing in our joy, Etan Lippa grew increasingly jealous of it. He saw how happy we were together, and became attracted to your Mom. She rejected his advances, but that only increased his desire for her. Then one day, I left the two of them alone together. I thought it would help if your mother talked to him alone, told him how things were, told him how happy she was with the family she already had, and how someday he could potentially have the same happiness with somebody else. But he took advantage of the situation and tried to force himself on her. He was stronger than your Mom, and her pregnancy made your mother heavy, slowed her down. But she contacted me through the Force, and I returned just in time to stop him. It was then that I finally told Lippa to leave, and never return.
"After he was gone, we still worried about him. We knew that he was very strong with the Force, and that there was a lot of anger inside him. But then you were born, and we tried not to think about him too much.
"But Etan Lippa swore revenge on your mother for rejecting him and me for interfering. Somehow, he found a way to instruct himself in the Force, and then he devised a plan to destroy everything that I loved, beginning with your mother. When I was away on one emergency, he lured her with reports of another emergency that required a Jedi's attention. Your mother gave you to the care of trusted friends—my sister Leia and her husband Han—you’ll meet Han before too long—and left, little suspecting that the 'emergency' was actually the bait for a trap. By the time she discovered the true nature of the 'emergency,' it was too late to escape. But before she died, she managed to send a telepathic message to me, warning me of Lippa's intentions, how strong he'd become, and of the danger that you were in.Because more than anything else—more than me, more than the other Jedi, more than your Mom—she realized that he wanted you. And that’s why you need to stop using the Force.
"Brenna...every Force-sensitive creates a unique ripple or current, if you will, that another sensitive can pick up, especially if they’re looking for it. And believe me, Lippa is looking for yours. If he ever traces the disturbance you can cause in the Force, he'll exact his revenge on me through you. That's why I changed our names, and moved to a world where you could grow up in relative safety. Before I left, I warned the other Jedi of Lippa, but that warning wasn't enough to save them. Lippa wants to destroy me, but even if he kills me, he won't be satisfied. He wants to destroy everything I've ever loved, which means the Jedi, the Alliance...and especially you. He has the potential and the desire to rebuild the Empire, and that makes him very, very dangerous. I wish I knew how to stop him, but I don't. The best I can do is try to protect you from him. If you don't use the Force, he can't feel your presence. That's why you need to learn the self-control to stop using the Force, and why I keep pushing you to study for the Academy entrance exam..."
When Luke's voice trailed off, Brenna shook her head. "No, Dad, you've got it wrong. Maybe he’s stronger than you. Maybe he’s stronger than me. But is he stronger than both of us put together? You can train me, and together—"
Luke interrupted. "Brenna...a whole legion of Jedi was unable to stop him. What he would do to you...would be even worse than what he did to the others. What I felt—those 'attacks,' as you call them—was nothing compared to what they felt. We were separated by light-years of space. Can you imagine what he would do to you? I can't let that happen to you."
"But if he's as powerful as you say and he destroys you, too, then there will be nothing to stop him."
"If that happens," Luke said softly, "I just hope he never finds you. Like I said, if you don't use the Force, he can't find you. The minute he senses your presence, he'll zero in on that disturbance like a homing signal."
"Dad, If you would just train me—"
Luke tried a different tact. "Train you for what? To be an outlaw? Because that's what the Jedi are, Bren."
"How can you say that? The Jedi—"
"I'm only speaking the truth. And I know better than anyone else alive, now. Even if there were no Etan Lippa to contend with, the Jedi are—or rather, were—nothing more than a gang of vigilantes. They operate outside of the laws of society. Would you really want to live like that?"
Brenna frowned. "When I researched the public records of Luke Skywalker, I found that you were instrumental in the passage of the Evidence Act, the bill that puts the burden of proof on the prosecution rather than on the defense."
"Because that's how it should be, Bren. That's how it was before the Empire. No one should be convicted just on another one's say-so. But the Jedi don't obey the same laws. They are self-appointed judge, jury, and in some case, executioners."
Brenna was silent for a moment, then she smiled and nodded. "Of course," she said. "It would be difficult to prove physical evidence through the Force. It only makes sense that the Jedi would operate outside the law. They would have to."
"And that contradiction doesn't bother you? That in order to serve justice, the Jedi go against it?"
Brenna shrugged. "Life is full of contradictions. If the system had a failsafe mechanism for finding and punishing the guilty, there wouldn't be any need for the Jedi, would there? Besides, I thought the Jedi were more concerned with protecting the innocent than in punishing the guilty."
"Sometimes it's impossible to see the difference. I'm just trying to show you that the Jedi aren't the heroes you seem to think they—"
Luke stopped suddenly and stared into the distance.
"Dad?"
He suddenly realized that by focusing in on the ripple he felt in the Force, he was also creating a ripple of his own. He pulled himself out of it quickly. "Brenna, go wake Lucy, then pack your things. We're getting out of here." He was already on his feet, opening the connecting door for her.
"Why? What's the matter?"
"It's Lippa. He's here, on Tatooine. Go wake Lucy and get your stuff together, and I mean now. And whatever you do, try not to use the Force."
-----
Chapter Fifteen
To Han's surprise, Rupert seemed only relieved at the news when Han told him. "You mean, I'm not going crazy?" Rupert said.
"Well, uh, that's what we're gonna try to prevent," Han replied.
Then Rupert asked, "Is he really a Jedi Knight?"
"He really is," Han assured him. “Or at least, that’s what he says. He taught Wedge a trick or two, at any rate.”
"And he's Mom's brother."
"That, too."
Rupert smiled at that. "Then we've got the best chance in the galaxy for getting Mom back."
Han wished he shared his son's optimism.
Rupert was silent for a few minutes as he thought over the events of the day, the news about his mother's kidnapping, and his own unique sensitivity, and so Han was left to his own thoughts. They settled on Leia. He wondered where she was and how she was, whether she was all right, or...he didn't want to think about the possibilities but found he couldn't help himself. Deities, he wished he had Rupert's supreme confidence in the abilities of a Jedi Knight. But Han knew that Luke was not infallible, even if Rupert seemed to think that the Jedi were something akin to superheros.
Han's thoughts were interrupted by Rupert's voice. "Dad?"
"Yeah?"
Rupert looked at his hands for a moment, then looked up and asked, "Do you think...he'll want to train me here, on Tatooine?"
It seemed like a strange question to Han, given everything else that was going on, but Han shrugged and answered it anyway. "I don't know, Rue."
"Wedge...said that he was trained on a place called Dagobah."
"Like I said, Rue, I really don't know. Does it make a difference?"
"I hope it's here," Rupert said softly.
Now Han was curious. "Why?" he asked.
Rupert gave his father a sad, rueful smile before looking away again. "Well...there's this girl I met..."
Han's ears practically pricked forward. "Girl?"
Rupert shook his head. "I don't even know her name. But she was...I don't know. She was so different from all the other girls I've ever met. It doesn't matter though. I'll probably never see her again, anyway."
Now this, at least, was something Han could deal with. "Hold on, Son, don't give up so easily. What do you know about her? Anything you can think of might help in tracking her."
"She's a mechanic. A freelancer. She said she'd be leaving off-world soon. No commitments. That was our arrangement."
Han mused. "Freelancer, huh? You don't find too many of them these days. Tell me, what does she look like?"
"It's no use. She's probably off-world already anyway."
"Now, Rue, you never know. Come on, give me a description."
Rupert gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Would you believe me if I said she looked like an angel?"
"What does an angel looked like."
"Well...an angel has hair the color of sunlight, eyes as blue as the sky during mid-day, a face as soft as the petal of a new flower..."
"Shouldn't be too hard to find," Han said, thinking exactly the opposite. "All we need to do is look for the halo and wings..."
The sensor wards beeped, indicating that someone was violating the ship's perimeters, and Han's immediate reaction was to think that the sand-people had returned. But as he started for the laser rifle, the communicator beeped for attention. Han switched it on and heard Luke's voice: "Han, come in."
"Luke? What is it?"
"I've got Lucy and Brenna with me. They're both fine, but we've got another problem."
Swell, Han thought. More problems. But aloud he said, "The old bird's flight-feathers are clipped, old friend. Should I charge up the guns?"
"Not just yet, but we could use a sheltering wing. There's a predator nearby, with an appetite for baby birds. Any idea when mama bird will be able to fly?"
Han looked over at Rupert, who held up four fingers and shrugged. "Four days, maybe," Han told Luke.
"Let's see if we can make it in one," Luke said. "I'll collect Chewie and Poul after I drop these two nestlings off. With all of us working on the problem, we should be able to solve it that much faster.”
Han turned to his son. "Sorry, Rupert, but we'll have to work on the girl-problem later. The man seems to be in a hurry, so let's get started."
"I'll run the systems report," Rupert said, and headed for the front of the ship.
Han met Luke and the girls at the main entrance, gave his daughter Lucy a quick embrace by way of a greeting, nodded at Brenna, who automatically moved to the brighter part of the Falcon's interior. She had traveled the distance with only the interior lights of the speeder to ward off the darkness.
"What sort of ‘predator’ are we talking about?" Han asked Luke.
"Etan Lippa's here on Tatooine," Luke replied. "The sooner we get off, the better."
Rupert came back from the cockpit. "Dad, there's a—" he stopped when he saw Brenna, ignoring his sister and Luke. "You...!" he said in a surprised voice.
"Lando?" Brenna said. The incredulous expression on her face mirrored Rupert's. "What are you doing here?"
"Lando?" said Han.
Rupert turned to his father with a disbelieving grin. "Dad, it's her. The girl I was telling you about."
"Brenna?" said Luke. "Have you...and Rupert met already?"
"Luke?" said Han. "Uh, Luke, I have something to tell you..."
To Han's surprise, Rupert seemed only relieved at the news when Han told him. "You mean, I'm not going crazy?" Rupert said.
"Well, uh, that's what we're gonna try to prevent," Han replied.
Then Rupert asked, "Is he really a Jedi Knight?"
"He really is," Han assured him. “Or at least, that’s what he says. He taught Wedge a trick or two, at any rate.”
"And he's Mom's brother."
"That, too."
Rupert smiled at that. "Then we've got the best chance in the galaxy for getting Mom back."
Han wished he shared his son's optimism.
Rupert was silent for a few minutes as he thought over the events of the day, the news about his mother's kidnapping, and his own unique sensitivity, and so Han was left to his own thoughts. They settled on Leia. He wondered where she was and how she was, whether she was all right, or...he didn't want to think about the possibilities but found he couldn't help himself. Deities, he wished he had Rupert's supreme confidence in the abilities of a Jedi Knight. But Han knew that Luke was not infallible, even if Rupert seemed to think that the Jedi were something akin to superheros.
Han's thoughts were interrupted by Rupert's voice. "Dad?"
"Yeah?"
Rupert looked at his hands for a moment, then looked up and asked, "Do you think...he'll want to train me here, on Tatooine?"
It seemed like a strange question to Han, given everything else that was going on, but Han shrugged and answered it anyway. "I don't know, Rue."
"Wedge...said that he was trained on a place called Dagobah."
"Like I said, Rue, I really don't know. Does it make a difference?"
"I hope it's here," Rupert said softly.
Now Han was curious. "Why?" he asked.
Rupert gave his father a sad, rueful smile before looking away again. "Well...there's this girl I met..."
Han's ears practically pricked forward. "Girl?"
Rupert shook his head. "I don't even know her name. But she was...I don't know. She was so different from all the other girls I've ever met. It doesn't matter though. I'll probably never see her again, anyway."
Now this, at least, was something Han could deal with. "Hold on, Son, don't give up so easily. What do you know about her? Anything you can think of might help in tracking her."
"She's a mechanic. A freelancer. She said she'd be leaving off-world soon. No commitments. That was our arrangement."
Han mused. "Freelancer, huh? You don't find too many of them these days. Tell me, what does she look like?"
"It's no use. She's probably off-world already anyway."
"Now, Rue, you never know. Come on, give me a description."
Rupert gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Would you believe me if I said she looked like an angel?"
"What does an angel looked like."
"Well...an angel has hair the color of sunlight, eyes as blue as the sky during mid-day, a face as soft as the petal of a new flower..."
"Shouldn't be too hard to find," Han said, thinking exactly the opposite. "All we need to do is look for the halo and wings..."
The sensor wards beeped, indicating that someone was violating the ship's perimeters, and Han's immediate reaction was to think that the sand-people had returned. But as he started for the laser rifle, the communicator beeped for attention. Han switched it on and heard Luke's voice: "Han, come in."
"Luke? What is it?"
"I've got Lucy and Brenna with me. They're both fine, but we've got another problem."
Swell, Han thought. More problems. But aloud he said, "The old bird's flight-feathers are clipped, old friend. Should I charge up the guns?"
"Not just yet, but we could use a sheltering wing. There's a predator nearby, with an appetite for baby birds. Any idea when mama bird will be able to fly?"
Han looked over at Rupert, who held up four fingers and shrugged. "Four days, maybe," Han told Luke.
"Let's see if we can make it in one," Luke said. "I'll collect Chewie and Poul after I drop these two nestlings off. With all of us working on the problem, we should be able to solve it that much faster.”
Han turned to his son. "Sorry, Rupert, but we'll have to work on the girl-problem later. The man seems to be in a hurry, so let's get started."
"I'll run the systems report," Rupert said, and headed for the front of the ship.
Han met Luke and the girls at the main entrance, gave his daughter Lucy a quick embrace by way of a greeting, nodded at Brenna, who automatically moved to the brighter part of the Falcon's interior. She had traveled the distance with only the interior lights of the speeder to ward off the darkness.
"What sort of ‘predator’ are we talking about?" Han asked Luke.
"Etan Lippa's here on Tatooine," Luke replied. "The sooner we get off, the better."
Rupert came back from the cockpit. "Dad, there's a—" he stopped when he saw Brenna, ignoring his sister and Luke. "You...!" he said in a surprised voice.
"Lando?" Brenna said. The incredulous expression on her face mirrored Rupert's. "What are you doing here?"
"Lando?" said Han.
Rupert turned to his father with a disbelieving grin. "Dad, it's her. The girl I was telling you about."
"Brenna?" said Luke. "Have you...and Rupert met already?"
"Luke?" said Han. "Uh, Luke, I have something to tell you..."
-----
Chapter Sixteen
Luke had an explanation for it, of course. Rupert and Brenna were both Force-sensitives, albeit untrained, and that sensitivity had drawn them together on some unconscious level.
Han had a simpler explanation: Brenna was a knock-out, and Rupert wasn't bad-looking, either.
But now Brenna seemed to be giving Rupert the cold-shoulder. Based on Rupert's confusion, Han figured that this was a new development, not a reflection of how she had interacted with him when she thought he was just a tramp pilot named Lando. Han hoped Luke would be more encouraging of the relationship, but when he mentioned to Luke that Brenna seemed to be putting Rupert off, Luke's only response was to say, "It's probably for the best."
For the best?
Han wondered if Luke had forgotten what it was like to be young, and in love.
Luke had retrieved Chewbacca and Poul, and the repairs to the ship were coming along, but it was taking longer than Rupert had originally estimated. The leak had been patched, and the airlock sealed, but something was still causing negative lights on the flight computer. Han was about to enter the cockpit to run another diagnostic check, when he saw that Luke and his daughter were already doing it.
It was not exactly eavesdropping, he told himself as he watched them from the door. Luke and Brenna were too busy trying not to look at each other to notice he was there. Brenna keyed the commands into the co-pilot's console, pretending to be absorbed. "You're still going to train him," she said. It was a statement, not a question.
Luke kept his eyes on the screen read-outs at the pilot's station. "Yes," he replied.
"I'm your own flesh and blood. Why is it that you'll give him a chance, and not me?"
"Brenna, I've told you already. With Rupert there's no choice. And with you, there really isn’t a choice, either. I'm not going to take him all the way, just enough to keep his empathy under control. And I'm too tired to argue with you any further right now."
"I know." Brenna viewed the numbers on the co-pilot's screen for a moment and then turned to give him a cold look. "You always are." She stood up, saw Han by the door and gave him a look that was either angry or challenging. Han responded to it by giving her an exaggerated wave to usher her by, and watched as she headed into the main deck.
At least he now had an explanation for the cold shoulder she was giving Rupert: jealousy. He'd have to talk to Rupert about it later, to ease the boy's confusion.
Han turned back to the cockpit cabin.
Luke was still staring at the panel as Han slid into the chair Brenna had just vacated. The Corellian, sensing his friend's mood, said nothing.
After a while, Luke looked up from the screen.
"You think I'm wrong not to train her," he said.
Han shrugged. "Doesn't matter what I think. You're the one who has to make the decision."
"Come on, Han, give me an honest answer."
"All right, then. Yeah, I think you're wrong."
"But I can't let the same thing happen to her that happened to the others!"
Han protested. "Hey! You asked me for an honest answer, remember?"
Luke let out a long breath, then nodded. "Sorry. All right, then, why do you think I should?"
"Well...because she wants to learn, mainly."
Luke shook his head. "Parents can't always give their children everything they want."
"In case you haven't noticed, Brenna's growing out of kid-hood. And in your case, it isn't so much can't as won't," Han said. "From Brenna's perspective, anyway."
Skywalker looked at him, uncomprehending.
"Look, Luke, from everything you've told me, and everything I've seen, this whole business is not just a passing fancy for Brenna. Now, I am not crazy about the idea of Rupert becoming one of your nearly extinct knights any more than you are about Brenna becoming one. But I've got three kids and you've only got one, and I can look at your situation a little more objectively than you can. From Brenna's point of view, the one thing she wants the most is the one thing you have to offer but refuse to give to her. Sooner or later, she's going to start resenting you for that. When that happens, she'll either hate you for the rest of her life, or try to learn from someone else, or—even worse—try to learn it on her own. If you want to talk about danger, I'd say the greater danger is having her try to learn about the Force without your guidance."
"I don't think you understand. Briande died because she was a Jedi Knight. Because I trained her to be one."
Han shook his head with a smile that wondered how the galaxy's most astute Jedi could miss something right under his nose. "It wasn't your training that killed her. She knew the risks. It was...what she was even before you trained her that made her go. Besides, if I remember correctly, wasn't it Jedi-training that rescued her from being executed as her sister in the first place?"
"I don't know," Luke said with a sigh. "When Brenna was born, we had such high hopes for her. We used to...plan how we'd train her, how we'd bring her up to use the Force naturally. I didn't even think about the danger until Briande was killed."
"Hmmm," Han said. Then he said, "Luke, you remember when you came back and said that Briande was dead? Brenna had been crying for two days straight. It was getting on my nerves. Then the instant you picked her up, she stopped crying and clung to you like a teeta bug to a stem. Do you think she knew?"
Luke met his eyes. "I got Briande's sending while I was on Sardirh. It took me two days to get back to Coruscant. Yes, Han, I think she knew."
.
.
.
The tool case was next to Rupert, and Brenna headed for it without even acknowledging Rupert's presence.
"Find anything?" Rupert asked.
Unable to avoid a direct question, she replied tersely, "I think I may have your glitch. It's on the exterior. The atmospheric stabilizer, I think. A piece of the hatch must have damaged it coming off." She grabbed the toolbox and headed down the gangplank.
Rupert picked up a welder and followed her outside.
"Brenna, wait up!"
She ignored the request and continued walking along the side of the ship, looking for the stabilizer. She found it and frowned; it was still in one piece.
Then she nodded to herself and pried open the access panel underneath the stabilizer. She put her hand through and wiggled each wire in turn.
"Brenna, we have to talk."
"Here's your problem," she said, isolating the loose wire. "You're lucky it's just a broken connector. Must have shaken loose. Hand me a size six sealing wrench, will you?"
Rupert found the tool and gave it to her. "Brenna, what's the matter? You haven't said two words to me since our parents found us."
"Go away," Brenna said, fitting the wrench over the connector and twisting violently.
"Well, that's two words, anyway," he said, trying for humor. When that got no response, Rupert tried the straight approach. "Look, I'm sorry I lied to you about my name, but knowing that the ones who planted the bomb might be after me, I thought it would be safer for you."
Brenna closed the access panel and handed him the tool she had been using. "Don't worry about it, Cousin. I grew up not even knowing what my real name was. Why should I care about yours?" She turned away, pretending to make a visual inspection of the ship.
"Cousin..." Rupert said quietly to himself, brows furrowed. Then a smile cleared his expression as he thought of something, and he chased after her. "Brenna, you do know that I was adopted, don't you?"
Brenna stopped, looked at him in surprise for a moment, then turned away again. "No, I didn't know. But the fact that we're not blood-relatives doesn't make any difference."
"Then what is it?"
"It's nothing either one of us can do anything about, so let's just pretend nothing ever happened between us."
"Pretend? How can we—" Rupert began, but Brenna was already walking away. He hurried to catch up with her. "Brenna, how can we pretend nothing ever happened? Do you know why I was so relieved to find out who you really were? It's because I knew I'd be able to see more of you."
"Look," Brenna stopped again and faced him. "Just leave me alone, okay? It's not your fault, but just the same I'd prefer not to dwell on it." She turned, and walked away, away from the ship, away from Rupert.
Rupert watched her go, still wondering what it was that had caused the rift. He hoped he could find a way to repair it, but before he could dwell on it any further, he sensed something nearby, something almost underneath Brenna's feet, filled with living things. "Brenna, wait!" he called. "There's something—"
Before he could say anything more, the ground suddenly opened up where Brenna was walking...
And Brenna disappeared as the sand swallowed her whole.
"Brenna!" Rupert called. He rushed to the edge of the pit that had just opened up in the sand and threw himself down to the ground to distribute his weight, lest more of the edge cave in. He knew what it was, of course. His father had warned him of krail pits on Tatooine, and why one should never walk on the desert surface without a stick to probe the ground ahead. Rupert looked down but could see nothing. "Brenna!"
There was no answer. The shadows from the setting twin suns hid the bottom of the pit in blackness.
Rupert scrambled back from the pit, regained his feet, then ran back to the gangplank as fast as he could.
.
.
.
Luke rubbed his eyes wearily. "I don't know, Han. If things were different, maybe I'd consider it. But with the way things are now, I just—" His head snapped up suddenly and he stopped speaking.
"What is it?" Han asked.
Luke bolted out of the chair. "Brenna's in trouble!" he said. He and Han met Rupert at the top of the make-shift gangplank just as the door to the MIllenium Falcon opened to admit him.
.
.
.
"Dad—" There was a quiet sob from the depths of the sand-hole. "Krail pit..."
"I know," Luke replied, gesturing to Han to secure the end of the line around a landing strut.
"Dark..." Brenna said.
"Just hang on, Bren. I'm coming down," Luke replied. His hands worked as he spoke, finding the other end of the line. The darkness at the bottom of the pit was good. The krail used mainly light to sense when they had captured a victim. Had she fallen earlier in the day, when the suns were higher in the sky and the bottom of the pit would be illuminated, she’d already be dead.
Han intercepted Poul, who was running towards the pit with a portable lamp. "No!" his father yelled. Chewbacca snatched the lamp away before Poul could reach his destination.
"No lights!" Han said. The fact that the twin suns were so low in the sky was Brenna's only chance.
Brenna's voice rose piteously from the pit, not in response to Han or Poul, but to her father. "Too late, Dad...already bitten. Just...toss a lamp down here, okay?"
"I can't, Bren. It would cause more krail to bite."
"Told you...too late. Please..."
"Hold on just a little longer, Bren."
As Luke started to wrap the rope around himself, he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Rupert.
"Let me do it," Rupert said.
Luke shook his head and went on with what he was doing. "It's too dangerous. That pit is full of krail."
"That's why I should be the one. I can…I can feel them. I felt them right before Brenna fell in. I know their instincts. It's like I'm one of them."
"But you're untrained," Luke pointed out. "You can't control them."
"Can you?" Rupert asked.
"No," Luke admitted. "I was figuring on using the darkness for protection."
"If it's dark for you, it's dark for me, too. And I've got a better chance. Besides, if anything happens to you, what have I got to look forward to? An insane asylum? I'd rather be bitten by the krail."
Luke stopped working on the rope and looked at him. Right now the boy was on an adrenaline rush, and the krail were mostly in the dark, which was the only reason he wasn't weirding-out already. If the krail became any more excited, or Rupert lost the personal emotional intensity he was currently experiencing, the empathic link would take over completely, and Rupert really would become one of the krail.
Rupert met his gaze unfalteringly.
"A million things could go wrong," Luke said. "You might be able to anticipate them, but you might find yourself in a link you can't get out of. Then there would be two of you down there."
"Let me go. Please."
Torn by indecision, Skywalker turned to the boy's father. "Han—"
Han closed his eyes. "I don’t know, Luke. This is outside of my territory."
Rupert held out his hand for the rope. "Let me do it."
Luke hesitated for a second, then started undoing the rope from around himself. "Force forgive me," he murmured, then gave the rope to Rupert. He unhooked his lightsaber and handed that over as well. "You may need this," he said. "But it gives off light. If you have to activate it, use it. I know how you feel about hurting lower forms, but if it's a choice between the krail, and you or Brenna..."
"I understand," Rupert said.
Then, as Rupert wrapped the rope around himself, Luke called back into the pit. "Brenna!"
"Dad?" came the frightened little reply.
"Rupert's on his way down. How are you doing?"
Brenna's sob carried up to the top of the pit. "Dad, he'll never make it. They're all over me. Please, can't...you just send down a lamp?"
"Just a little longer, I promise." Luke said. "Tell me how you feel."
"I...can't feel my legs anymore, and my arms are starting to go numb."
"Not much time," Han murmured. "Even if Rupert can avoid the krail, he'll never get her out in time."
Rupert signaled that he was secure and ready. Chewbacca and Luke held onto the rope as he climbed into the side of the krail pit. As they let him down, he found foot-holds and hand-holds on the side of the pit. All of them knew Rupert had to keep his descent slow and controlled lest he alarm any of the serpents.
He had just descended past the shadow-line when something in the dimness caught his eye. A large krail lay coiled on the ledge not two inches from right hand. Rupert's heart leapt in fear, but the snake didn't stir. Cautiously he moved his hand away. Then he looked down.
It was impossible to see the bottom for the darkness, but it couldn't be much farther down. He remembered that Brenna had said the krail were all over her. He took a deep breath, praying that Luke was right and that he really did have some sort of empathy with animals, and mentally wished the krail away from Brenna.
Then he called up to be let down lower.
He continued his descent, hoping that the Force was with him and would keep any stray serpents out of his path. At the same time, he continued trying to convey the feeling that the krail wanted to move away from the bottom, especially where it was warm. It wasn't warmth they were drawn to, but light.
Light meant that there was food nearby.
His feet touched something, and he used his hands against the wall to push himself away from that part of the pit. The last thing Brenna needed was a cracked rib from being stepped on. Fortunately, there was nothing on the other side of the pit that bit him, and nothing under where his feet touched down that squished, squirmed, broke, or bit.
He called up for slack and quickly undid the rope from around himself, working by feel since he couldn't see anything. Then he bent down and ran his hands along Brenna's inert form, searching for snakes. He found several, but fortunately they just slithered off when he brushed them away. He ran his hands over her body again, but there were no other snakes. There was, however, another problem that he noticed.
"She's not breathing!" he yelled to the people above, forgetting the krail for a moment. He yanked on the rope, to show that he needed lots of slack.
"Hang on, Brenna," he said more quietly, not sure if she could hear him or not, and wrapped the rope around her armpits. He finished the knot around her, then wrapped the tail end of the rope into a loop and tied it off for a foothold. Then he tugged to let the others above know they were ready to come up. Chewbacca and Luke hauled on the rope as quickly as they dared while Rupert continued to try to send mental messages to the krail to keep them away. He had no idea whether or not it actually was working, but the krail seemed to be leaving him and Brenna alone.
Brenna's body hung from the rope limply, and several times she knocked against the sides of the pit. Rupert tried to hold her still, but it was impossible. So he concentrated instead on keeping the poisonous krail at bay. But as they neared the shadow line, the back of Brenna's hand slapped the pit wall hard near a nest, and one of the krail, visible now in the dim light, raised its head to strike.
Reacting quickly, Rupert pushed away from the side of the pit with his free foot, and started to unhook the lightsaber. Then he hesitated, and left the weapon where it was. The rope was causing them to swing back into the krail's reach. Rupert ripped one of his gloves off, and tossed it at the krail's head as they swung within reach. The snake lunged for the glove and chewed at it viciously as Rupert pushed himself and Brenna away again.
"Pull us up!" Rupert yelled. If this didn't work, he'd have to kill the krail. He pulled off the other glove off and did the same thing as they pendulumed towards the nest again. By the third swing, thanks to Chewbacca's Wookiee strength, Brenna was out of reach, and he was able to kick himself away.
It seemed forever before they reached the top, and anxious hands reached first for Brenna, then for himself. As Han pulled him out, Rupert saw that Luke was already loosening the knots around Brenna.
"Were you bit?" Han asked his son.
Rupert shook his head as he quickly undid the rope from himself and tossed it aside. Then he turned his attention back to Brenna.
Her face was deathly pale. Luke had a hand placed over her forehead, and his eyes were momentarily unfocused. But an instant later, Luke's eyes came back into focus and he turned toward the others.
"Is she—?" Rupert began, unable to finish the question.
"Not yet." The Jedi answered. "She's gone into a bio-trance."
"Can she do that?" Han remembered once overhearing Luke tell Leia about how difficult it was to teach that particular trick to his students.
"Apparently, but she's gone in too deep. The trance has slowed the spread of the poison, but either one could kill her."
The Jedi Knight quickly gathered his daughter up in his arms and carried her to Falcon. Lucy ran ahead, to make certain the way to the medical bay was clear, then melted back out of the way as Luke followed, moving much more quickly than one would have thought possible for an older man carrying a dead weight. Han and Rupert trailed behind.
Luke entered the medical bay and didn't even look behind him to see Han behind him. "Get the Falcon out of here fast," he said. "That 'wave' effect I was telling you about? When Brenna fell into the pit, it was like a tidal wave."
"Get the Falcon into hyperspace, Rupert!" Han shouted.
"She's not space-worthy!" Rupert protested.
"Just do the best you can!"
Rupert took off at a run for the cockpit, followed closely by Chewbacca.
Lucy went to the medi-computer and rapidly keyed in a code. The answer the computer gave back was not encouraging. "There's no anti-toxin for krail poison on board," she said helplessly.
"It acts too quickly," Han replied. "Krail are found only on Tatooine, and the victims are usually dead before help can even arrive, so it's not a standard supply."
"Will she be all right?" Lucy asked.
There was no answer. Luke had laid Brenna out on the table. He again had one hand on Brenna's forehead, and the other placed on her chest just below her throat, near her heart. His eyes were closed. Meanwhile, the ship lifted off on repulser jets, then shuddered as the main thrusters refused to come online. There was no way they were going to leave the atmosphere. Han, Poul, and Lucy had to grab onto supports to keep their balance. Luke had to momentarily move one of his hands to the table to regain his balance.
Poul started to say something, but Han waved him silent, knowing that Brenna's only chance lay in whatever healing powers the Jedi had, and he didn't want to cause any distractions for Luke.
For a few minutes, Luke and Brenna seemed frozen like statues as the ship bounced on unstable repulsors like turbulence encounters in old-fashioned atmospheric aircraft. Silently, Han edged over towards the table. He saw beads of sweat forming on Luke's brow, but other than that there was no movement of any kind from either Luke or Brenna. Han was afraid to move or speak lest he disturb the trance of concentration the Jedi had fallen into.
The ship shuddered with a sudden lurch as Rupert brought the disabled vessel through an awkward landing, and Han held onto the table with one hand while using the other to steady Luke. Except for a step Luke had taken to maintain his balance, it was as if nothing had changed with either of them.
A moment later Rupert came back to the medical bay and joined him.
"Where are we?" Han whispered.
"About six hundred kilometers from where we were before," Rupert replied quietly. "It was the best I could do until I get the main engines online. At least we're sheltered from above by an outcropping.”
More time passed. Brenna's face continued to remain deathly pale. Only Luke's relentless vigil spoke of any life at all left in her body. Han's eyes traveled across the room to Rupert, Poul, and Lucy. They, like him, were watching and waiting, wishing there was something more they could do, but knowing there wasn't. It was all up to Luke, now, and Brenna.
Gradually Han became aware that Brenna's face no longer seemed as white as it had been when they had first pulled her out of the pit. He looked around and saw that Rupert, too, seemed to have noticed the slight change. Rupert looked up at his father with questioning eyes, but Han merely shook his head; it was too soon to tell yet.
The slight promise of hope seemed to make the torture of waiting a little more bearable. Han kept looking away, hoping that when he looked back again, he would see some measurable change, but the improvements were so slight that it was impossible to be sure they were even there. Han wondered where Luke found the stamina to continue the endless concentration it must have taken to keep this task up.
Han's attention wandered again. Lucy stood up and silently left, only to return a few minutes later with cups of hot coffee. Han nodded his thanks soundlessly and drank his as he looked back at the unmoving scene in front of him.
Suddenly Han's gaze was drawn to Brenna's chest. It was moving up and down in slow, regular motions as her body respirated in normal rhythm. The Corellian wanted to shout with joy, but instead contained his elation to a heartfelt grin. From across the room, Rupert met the grin with one of his own.
Lucy clapped Poul on the shoulder and nodded encouragingly.
Han's grin turned into an expression of concern as he looked back at the table. Brenna was definitely better, but Luke looked bad. The Jedi Knight's face was lined with exhaustion, and his hands were beginning to tremble. Han moved quietly behind Luke. A few minutes later, the Jedi started to sway, and Han caught him before he could fall to the floor.
Instantly, Rupert was at Brenna's bedside, pressing two fingers to her throat and examining her vital signs.
Lucy waved the medical scanner over Brenna and looked up at the sensor read-outs in disbelief. "The poison's gone," she said incredulously. "It's just…gone."
Luke's eyes opened as Han pulled one of his arms around his neck for support. "Brenna—" he choked. "How is she?"
Han glanced at Rupert, who nodded. "She's fine, Luke. I think she'll be all right. You can rest now."
Han thought he had never seen Luke look more ill or tired than now. But there was still something else on the Jedi's mind. "Get the Falcon...out of here fast. I can feel Lippa..."
"We can't lift offplanet yet," Han replied. "Rupert, can you make another hop? Stay low. We don't want to be picked up by air-traffic sensors."
"I'll see what I can do," Rupert answered, moving to the cockpit again.
Then Han lifted Luke's weight to turn him towards the cabins. "Come on, Luke. You need to rest."
Luke nodded and allowed himself to be carried to the co-pilot's cabin without argument. Han was not surprised to see tears roll unashamedly down his long-time friend's face.
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"Well, young lady, would you like some company with your breakfast?"
Brenna looked up from the meal she had only been toying with at the sound of Han's voice. She pushed the tray away when she saw who was with him. "Dad."
Luke smiled as he entered the cabin, leaning on Han ever-so-slightly for support. Han found a chair for the Jedi to sit in, since Luke was still a little weak after the ordeal. Then the Corellian left, figuring that father and daughter had a lot to talk about."
How are you feeling?" Luke asked after a long moment.
"Fine," Brenna said. She hesitated, then dropped some of the pretense. "Not fine. I was scared to death down there."
"Good," Luke said.
"Why?" Brenna asked in astonishment.
"Because now you know how I feel every time I sense you playing with the Force."
"Oh, Dad—" Brenna's voice caught, and she looked away.
"I'm sorry, Bren. I didn't mean to scold you. I was just so worried that we would lose you."
"And you." Brenna turned back and looked at her father, not fooled by his attempt to disguise the weariness and strain etched in his face. "You could have been killed, couldn't you?"
"Now, Bren, don't—"
"It's true. You had to pull me out of the bio-trance and draw the poison out." She drew in a shaky breath, then looked away again. "Why didn't you tell me the truth before?"
"What do you mean?" Luke asked, not understanding.
"Why...you wouldn't train me."
Luke stared at her. He had told her the truth. The reason he hadn't trained her was Etan Lippa.
Brenna closed her eyes. "I should've known that the pit was there," she said. "I should've been able to keep the snakes from biting. I shouldn't have gone so deep into the trance." She hesitated, then added, "Instead, I let myself be overcome by a stupid, childish fear that even a toddler outgrows."
"Everyone has fears," Luke said. He'd meant to comfort, but his words sounded flat even in his own ears.
"Not you. Not the Jedi. Not even the novice you sent down in the pit after me. He knew the pit was there, and how to control the snakes. And he wasn't afraid of the dark."
Luke was silent. She didn't realize that Rupert's gifts were unique, that every sensitive's gifts were as unique as the individuals themselves. She didn't know that Rupert's gifts could destroy him if he weren't trained, as easily as Brenna's could destroy her, if she were.
She drew in a shaky breath, still without looking at him. "I understand now. And I won't…I won't ever use the Force again. I promise." She bit her lower lip and held it a moment before releasing it. Then she said, "I think I'd better give you something..." Brenna rolled off the bed, stood up and went over to her travel-case, favoring her bitten leg. She rummaged around her clothes for a second, found what she was searching for, then limped back to the bed.
She placed a gleaming metal tube into her father's hand.
Luke felt his anger rise as he looked down at the Jedi weapon he had all but forbidden Brenna to possess. "Where did you get this?" he demanded.
Brenna looked down at the floor. "I made it," she replied quietly.
Her father stared at her, his anger being replaced by incredulity. "You...made it?"
She nodded. Shame registered on her face, and she sat back on the bed.
Luke was speechless. The lightsaber looked like it had been constructed by a Master Jedi Knight. The seams fit together so precisely they were all but invisible, and the metal was polished to a bright gleam. There was even a design etched into the guard and pommel. Only its light weight testified to its incompleteness. The expensive energy cell needed to make it work was the only thing lacking.
"I'm sorry. I don't know why I did it. I guess...I don't know." Brenna turned away, but not before Luke saw the pain-filled expression in her eyes. Luke reached out towards her again, but the instant he touched her, she pulled away, and he let his hand fall back to his side.
There was a moment of silence before Brenna spoke again. "Would you...leave me alone for a while, please."
Luke nodded and stood up, feeling suddenly very old. He kissed Brenna on the top of the head and then moved toward the door. Just as he was about to leave, Brenna said softly, "Father—"
Luke stopped without turning back, somehow knowing that Brenna wasn't looking at him, either, and that the formal address of him as 'Father' was an indication of the distance that now seemed to be between them.
“I’m sorry I was so stubborn before. And...thank you...for bringing me back.”
Luke nodded again, fighting a large lump in his throat, as he left the room. He had just won the most important argument he'd ever had with Brenna, but somehow it felt as if he had lost.
Luke had an explanation for it, of course. Rupert and Brenna were both Force-sensitives, albeit untrained, and that sensitivity had drawn them together on some unconscious level.
Han had a simpler explanation: Brenna was a knock-out, and Rupert wasn't bad-looking, either.
But now Brenna seemed to be giving Rupert the cold-shoulder. Based on Rupert's confusion, Han figured that this was a new development, not a reflection of how she had interacted with him when she thought he was just a tramp pilot named Lando. Han hoped Luke would be more encouraging of the relationship, but when he mentioned to Luke that Brenna seemed to be putting Rupert off, Luke's only response was to say, "It's probably for the best."
For the best?
Han wondered if Luke had forgotten what it was like to be young, and in love.
Luke had retrieved Chewbacca and Poul, and the repairs to the ship were coming along, but it was taking longer than Rupert had originally estimated. The leak had been patched, and the airlock sealed, but something was still causing negative lights on the flight computer. Han was about to enter the cockpit to run another diagnostic check, when he saw that Luke and his daughter were already doing it.
It was not exactly eavesdropping, he told himself as he watched them from the door. Luke and Brenna were too busy trying not to look at each other to notice he was there. Brenna keyed the commands into the co-pilot's console, pretending to be absorbed. "You're still going to train him," she said. It was a statement, not a question.
Luke kept his eyes on the screen read-outs at the pilot's station. "Yes," he replied.
"I'm your own flesh and blood. Why is it that you'll give him a chance, and not me?"
"Brenna, I've told you already. With Rupert there's no choice. And with you, there really isn’t a choice, either. I'm not going to take him all the way, just enough to keep his empathy under control. And I'm too tired to argue with you any further right now."
"I know." Brenna viewed the numbers on the co-pilot's screen for a moment and then turned to give him a cold look. "You always are." She stood up, saw Han by the door and gave him a look that was either angry or challenging. Han responded to it by giving her an exaggerated wave to usher her by, and watched as she headed into the main deck.
At least he now had an explanation for the cold shoulder she was giving Rupert: jealousy. He'd have to talk to Rupert about it later, to ease the boy's confusion.
Han turned back to the cockpit cabin.
Luke was still staring at the panel as Han slid into the chair Brenna had just vacated. The Corellian, sensing his friend's mood, said nothing.
After a while, Luke looked up from the screen.
"You think I'm wrong not to train her," he said.
Han shrugged. "Doesn't matter what I think. You're the one who has to make the decision."
"Come on, Han, give me an honest answer."
"All right, then. Yeah, I think you're wrong."
"But I can't let the same thing happen to her that happened to the others!"
Han protested. "Hey! You asked me for an honest answer, remember?"
Luke let out a long breath, then nodded. "Sorry. All right, then, why do you think I should?"
"Well...because she wants to learn, mainly."
Luke shook his head. "Parents can't always give their children everything they want."
"In case you haven't noticed, Brenna's growing out of kid-hood. And in your case, it isn't so much can't as won't," Han said. "From Brenna's perspective, anyway."
Skywalker looked at him, uncomprehending.
"Look, Luke, from everything you've told me, and everything I've seen, this whole business is not just a passing fancy for Brenna. Now, I am not crazy about the idea of Rupert becoming one of your nearly extinct knights any more than you are about Brenna becoming one. But I've got three kids and you've only got one, and I can look at your situation a little more objectively than you can. From Brenna's point of view, the one thing she wants the most is the one thing you have to offer but refuse to give to her. Sooner or later, she's going to start resenting you for that. When that happens, she'll either hate you for the rest of her life, or try to learn from someone else, or—even worse—try to learn it on her own. If you want to talk about danger, I'd say the greater danger is having her try to learn about the Force without your guidance."
"I don't think you understand. Briande died because she was a Jedi Knight. Because I trained her to be one."
Han shook his head with a smile that wondered how the galaxy's most astute Jedi could miss something right under his nose. "It wasn't your training that killed her. She knew the risks. It was...what she was even before you trained her that made her go. Besides, if I remember correctly, wasn't it Jedi-training that rescued her from being executed as her sister in the first place?"
"I don't know," Luke said with a sigh. "When Brenna was born, we had such high hopes for her. We used to...plan how we'd train her, how we'd bring her up to use the Force naturally. I didn't even think about the danger until Briande was killed."
"Hmmm," Han said. Then he said, "Luke, you remember when you came back and said that Briande was dead? Brenna had been crying for two days straight. It was getting on my nerves. Then the instant you picked her up, she stopped crying and clung to you like a teeta bug to a stem. Do you think she knew?"
Luke met his eyes. "I got Briande's sending while I was on Sardirh. It took me two days to get back to Coruscant. Yes, Han, I think she knew."
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The tool case was next to Rupert, and Brenna headed for it without even acknowledging Rupert's presence.
"Find anything?" Rupert asked.
Unable to avoid a direct question, she replied tersely, "I think I may have your glitch. It's on the exterior. The atmospheric stabilizer, I think. A piece of the hatch must have damaged it coming off." She grabbed the toolbox and headed down the gangplank.
Rupert picked up a welder and followed her outside.
"Brenna, wait up!"
She ignored the request and continued walking along the side of the ship, looking for the stabilizer. She found it and frowned; it was still in one piece.
Then she nodded to herself and pried open the access panel underneath the stabilizer. She put her hand through and wiggled each wire in turn.
"Brenna, we have to talk."
"Here's your problem," she said, isolating the loose wire. "You're lucky it's just a broken connector. Must have shaken loose. Hand me a size six sealing wrench, will you?"
Rupert found the tool and gave it to her. "Brenna, what's the matter? You haven't said two words to me since our parents found us."
"Go away," Brenna said, fitting the wrench over the connector and twisting violently.
"Well, that's two words, anyway," he said, trying for humor. When that got no response, Rupert tried the straight approach. "Look, I'm sorry I lied to you about my name, but knowing that the ones who planted the bomb might be after me, I thought it would be safer for you."
Brenna closed the access panel and handed him the tool she had been using. "Don't worry about it, Cousin. I grew up not even knowing what my real name was. Why should I care about yours?" She turned away, pretending to make a visual inspection of the ship.
"Cousin..." Rupert said quietly to himself, brows furrowed. Then a smile cleared his expression as he thought of something, and he chased after her. "Brenna, you do know that I was adopted, don't you?"
Brenna stopped, looked at him in surprise for a moment, then turned away again. "No, I didn't know. But the fact that we're not blood-relatives doesn't make any difference."
"Then what is it?"
"It's nothing either one of us can do anything about, so let's just pretend nothing ever happened between us."
"Pretend? How can we—" Rupert began, but Brenna was already walking away. He hurried to catch up with her. "Brenna, how can we pretend nothing ever happened? Do you know why I was so relieved to find out who you really were? It's because I knew I'd be able to see more of you."
"Look," Brenna stopped again and faced him. "Just leave me alone, okay? It's not your fault, but just the same I'd prefer not to dwell on it." She turned, and walked away, away from the ship, away from Rupert.
Rupert watched her go, still wondering what it was that had caused the rift. He hoped he could find a way to repair it, but before he could dwell on it any further, he sensed something nearby, something almost underneath Brenna's feet, filled with living things. "Brenna, wait!" he called. "There's something—"
Before he could say anything more, the ground suddenly opened up where Brenna was walking...
And Brenna disappeared as the sand swallowed her whole.
"Brenna!" Rupert called. He rushed to the edge of the pit that had just opened up in the sand and threw himself down to the ground to distribute his weight, lest more of the edge cave in. He knew what it was, of course. His father had warned him of krail pits on Tatooine, and why one should never walk on the desert surface without a stick to probe the ground ahead. Rupert looked down but could see nothing. "Brenna!"
There was no answer. The shadows from the setting twin suns hid the bottom of the pit in blackness.
Rupert scrambled back from the pit, regained his feet, then ran back to the gangplank as fast as he could.
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Luke rubbed his eyes wearily. "I don't know, Han. If things were different, maybe I'd consider it. But with the way things are now, I just—" His head snapped up suddenly and he stopped speaking.
"What is it?" Han asked.
Luke bolted out of the chair. "Brenna's in trouble!" he said. He and Han met Rupert at the top of the make-shift gangplank just as the door to the MIllenium Falcon opened to admit him.
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"Dad—" There was a quiet sob from the depths of the sand-hole. "Krail pit..."
"I know," Luke replied, gesturing to Han to secure the end of the line around a landing strut.
"Dark..." Brenna said.
"Just hang on, Bren. I'm coming down," Luke replied. His hands worked as he spoke, finding the other end of the line. The darkness at the bottom of the pit was good. The krail used mainly light to sense when they had captured a victim. Had she fallen earlier in the day, when the suns were higher in the sky and the bottom of the pit would be illuminated, she’d already be dead.
Han intercepted Poul, who was running towards the pit with a portable lamp. "No!" his father yelled. Chewbacca snatched the lamp away before Poul could reach his destination.
"No lights!" Han said. The fact that the twin suns were so low in the sky was Brenna's only chance.
Brenna's voice rose piteously from the pit, not in response to Han or Poul, but to her father. "Too late, Dad...already bitten. Just...toss a lamp down here, okay?"
"I can't, Bren. It would cause more krail to bite."
"Told you...too late. Please..."
"Hold on just a little longer, Bren."
As Luke started to wrap the rope around himself, he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Rupert.
"Let me do it," Rupert said.
Luke shook his head and went on with what he was doing. "It's too dangerous. That pit is full of krail."
"That's why I should be the one. I can…I can feel them. I felt them right before Brenna fell in. I know their instincts. It's like I'm one of them."
"But you're untrained," Luke pointed out. "You can't control them."
"Can you?" Rupert asked.
"No," Luke admitted. "I was figuring on using the darkness for protection."
"If it's dark for you, it's dark for me, too. And I've got a better chance. Besides, if anything happens to you, what have I got to look forward to? An insane asylum? I'd rather be bitten by the krail."
Luke stopped working on the rope and looked at him. Right now the boy was on an adrenaline rush, and the krail were mostly in the dark, which was the only reason he wasn't weirding-out already. If the krail became any more excited, or Rupert lost the personal emotional intensity he was currently experiencing, the empathic link would take over completely, and Rupert really would become one of the krail.
Rupert met his gaze unfalteringly.
"A million things could go wrong," Luke said. "You might be able to anticipate them, but you might find yourself in a link you can't get out of. Then there would be two of you down there."
"Let me go. Please."
Torn by indecision, Skywalker turned to the boy's father. "Han—"
Han closed his eyes. "I don’t know, Luke. This is outside of my territory."
Rupert held out his hand for the rope. "Let me do it."
Luke hesitated for a second, then started undoing the rope from around himself. "Force forgive me," he murmured, then gave the rope to Rupert. He unhooked his lightsaber and handed that over as well. "You may need this," he said. "But it gives off light. If you have to activate it, use it. I know how you feel about hurting lower forms, but if it's a choice between the krail, and you or Brenna..."
"I understand," Rupert said.
Then, as Rupert wrapped the rope around himself, Luke called back into the pit. "Brenna!"
"Dad?" came the frightened little reply.
"Rupert's on his way down. How are you doing?"
Brenna's sob carried up to the top of the pit. "Dad, he'll never make it. They're all over me. Please, can't...you just send down a lamp?"
"Just a little longer, I promise." Luke said. "Tell me how you feel."
"I...can't feel my legs anymore, and my arms are starting to go numb."
"Not much time," Han murmured. "Even if Rupert can avoid the krail, he'll never get her out in time."
Rupert signaled that he was secure and ready. Chewbacca and Luke held onto the rope as he climbed into the side of the krail pit. As they let him down, he found foot-holds and hand-holds on the side of the pit. All of them knew Rupert had to keep his descent slow and controlled lest he alarm any of the serpents.
He had just descended past the shadow-line when something in the dimness caught his eye. A large krail lay coiled on the ledge not two inches from right hand. Rupert's heart leapt in fear, but the snake didn't stir. Cautiously he moved his hand away. Then he looked down.
It was impossible to see the bottom for the darkness, but it couldn't be much farther down. He remembered that Brenna had said the krail were all over her. He took a deep breath, praying that Luke was right and that he really did have some sort of empathy with animals, and mentally wished the krail away from Brenna.
Then he called up to be let down lower.
He continued his descent, hoping that the Force was with him and would keep any stray serpents out of his path. At the same time, he continued trying to convey the feeling that the krail wanted to move away from the bottom, especially where it was warm. It wasn't warmth they were drawn to, but light.
Light meant that there was food nearby.
His feet touched something, and he used his hands against the wall to push himself away from that part of the pit. The last thing Brenna needed was a cracked rib from being stepped on. Fortunately, there was nothing on the other side of the pit that bit him, and nothing under where his feet touched down that squished, squirmed, broke, or bit.
He called up for slack and quickly undid the rope from around himself, working by feel since he couldn't see anything. Then he bent down and ran his hands along Brenna's inert form, searching for snakes. He found several, but fortunately they just slithered off when he brushed them away. He ran his hands over her body again, but there were no other snakes. There was, however, another problem that he noticed.
"She's not breathing!" he yelled to the people above, forgetting the krail for a moment. He yanked on the rope, to show that he needed lots of slack.
"Hang on, Brenna," he said more quietly, not sure if she could hear him or not, and wrapped the rope around her armpits. He finished the knot around her, then wrapped the tail end of the rope into a loop and tied it off for a foothold. Then he tugged to let the others above know they were ready to come up. Chewbacca and Luke hauled on the rope as quickly as they dared while Rupert continued to try to send mental messages to the krail to keep them away. He had no idea whether or not it actually was working, but the krail seemed to be leaving him and Brenna alone.
Brenna's body hung from the rope limply, and several times she knocked against the sides of the pit. Rupert tried to hold her still, but it was impossible. So he concentrated instead on keeping the poisonous krail at bay. But as they neared the shadow line, the back of Brenna's hand slapped the pit wall hard near a nest, and one of the krail, visible now in the dim light, raised its head to strike.
Reacting quickly, Rupert pushed away from the side of the pit with his free foot, and started to unhook the lightsaber. Then he hesitated, and left the weapon where it was. The rope was causing them to swing back into the krail's reach. Rupert ripped one of his gloves off, and tossed it at the krail's head as they swung within reach. The snake lunged for the glove and chewed at it viciously as Rupert pushed himself and Brenna away again.
"Pull us up!" Rupert yelled. If this didn't work, he'd have to kill the krail. He pulled off the other glove off and did the same thing as they pendulumed towards the nest again. By the third swing, thanks to Chewbacca's Wookiee strength, Brenna was out of reach, and he was able to kick himself away.
It seemed forever before they reached the top, and anxious hands reached first for Brenna, then for himself. As Han pulled him out, Rupert saw that Luke was already loosening the knots around Brenna.
"Were you bit?" Han asked his son.
Rupert shook his head as he quickly undid the rope from himself and tossed it aside. Then he turned his attention back to Brenna.
Her face was deathly pale. Luke had a hand placed over her forehead, and his eyes were momentarily unfocused. But an instant later, Luke's eyes came back into focus and he turned toward the others.
"Is she—?" Rupert began, unable to finish the question.
"Not yet." The Jedi answered. "She's gone into a bio-trance."
"Can she do that?" Han remembered once overhearing Luke tell Leia about how difficult it was to teach that particular trick to his students.
"Apparently, but she's gone in too deep. The trance has slowed the spread of the poison, but either one could kill her."
The Jedi Knight quickly gathered his daughter up in his arms and carried her to Falcon. Lucy ran ahead, to make certain the way to the medical bay was clear, then melted back out of the way as Luke followed, moving much more quickly than one would have thought possible for an older man carrying a dead weight. Han and Rupert trailed behind.
Luke entered the medical bay and didn't even look behind him to see Han behind him. "Get the Falcon out of here fast," he said. "That 'wave' effect I was telling you about? When Brenna fell into the pit, it was like a tidal wave."
"Get the Falcon into hyperspace, Rupert!" Han shouted.
"She's not space-worthy!" Rupert protested.
"Just do the best you can!"
Rupert took off at a run for the cockpit, followed closely by Chewbacca.
Lucy went to the medi-computer and rapidly keyed in a code. The answer the computer gave back was not encouraging. "There's no anti-toxin for krail poison on board," she said helplessly.
"It acts too quickly," Han replied. "Krail are found only on Tatooine, and the victims are usually dead before help can even arrive, so it's not a standard supply."
"Will she be all right?" Lucy asked.
There was no answer. Luke had laid Brenna out on the table. He again had one hand on Brenna's forehead, and the other placed on her chest just below her throat, near her heart. His eyes were closed. Meanwhile, the ship lifted off on repulser jets, then shuddered as the main thrusters refused to come online. There was no way they were going to leave the atmosphere. Han, Poul, and Lucy had to grab onto supports to keep their balance. Luke had to momentarily move one of his hands to the table to regain his balance.
Poul started to say something, but Han waved him silent, knowing that Brenna's only chance lay in whatever healing powers the Jedi had, and he didn't want to cause any distractions for Luke.
For a few minutes, Luke and Brenna seemed frozen like statues as the ship bounced on unstable repulsors like turbulence encounters in old-fashioned atmospheric aircraft. Silently, Han edged over towards the table. He saw beads of sweat forming on Luke's brow, but other than that there was no movement of any kind from either Luke or Brenna. Han was afraid to move or speak lest he disturb the trance of concentration the Jedi had fallen into.
The ship shuddered with a sudden lurch as Rupert brought the disabled vessel through an awkward landing, and Han held onto the table with one hand while using the other to steady Luke. Except for a step Luke had taken to maintain his balance, it was as if nothing had changed with either of them.
A moment later Rupert came back to the medical bay and joined him.
"Where are we?" Han whispered.
"About six hundred kilometers from where we were before," Rupert replied quietly. "It was the best I could do until I get the main engines online. At least we're sheltered from above by an outcropping.”
More time passed. Brenna's face continued to remain deathly pale. Only Luke's relentless vigil spoke of any life at all left in her body. Han's eyes traveled across the room to Rupert, Poul, and Lucy. They, like him, were watching and waiting, wishing there was something more they could do, but knowing there wasn't. It was all up to Luke, now, and Brenna.
Gradually Han became aware that Brenna's face no longer seemed as white as it had been when they had first pulled her out of the pit. He looked around and saw that Rupert, too, seemed to have noticed the slight change. Rupert looked up at his father with questioning eyes, but Han merely shook his head; it was too soon to tell yet.
The slight promise of hope seemed to make the torture of waiting a little more bearable. Han kept looking away, hoping that when he looked back again, he would see some measurable change, but the improvements were so slight that it was impossible to be sure they were even there. Han wondered where Luke found the stamina to continue the endless concentration it must have taken to keep this task up.
Han's attention wandered again. Lucy stood up and silently left, only to return a few minutes later with cups of hot coffee. Han nodded his thanks soundlessly and drank his as he looked back at the unmoving scene in front of him.
Suddenly Han's gaze was drawn to Brenna's chest. It was moving up and down in slow, regular motions as her body respirated in normal rhythm. The Corellian wanted to shout with joy, but instead contained his elation to a heartfelt grin. From across the room, Rupert met the grin with one of his own.
Lucy clapped Poul on the shoulder and nodded encouragingly.
Han's grin turned into an expression of concern as he looked back at the table. Brenna was definitely better, but Luke looked bad. The Jedi Knight's face was lined with exhaustion, and his hands were beginning to tremble. Han moved quietly behind Luke. A few minutes later, the Jedi started to sway, and Han caught him before he could fall to the floor.
Instantly, Rupert was at Brenna's bedside, pressing two fingers to her throat and examining her vital signs.
Lucy waved the medical scanner over Brenna and looked up at the sensor read-outs in disbelief. "The poison's gone," she said incredulously. "It's just…gone."
Luke's eyes opened as Han pulled one of his arms around his neck for support. "Brenna—" he choked. "How is she?"
Han glanced at Rupert, who nodded. "She's fine, Luke. I think she'll be all right. You can rest now."
Han thought he had never seen Luke look more ill or tired than now. But there was still something else on the Jedi's mind. "Get the Falcon...out of here fast. I can feel Lippa..."
"We can't lift offplanet yet," Han replied. "Rupert, can you make another hop? Stay low. We don't want to be picked up by air-traffic sensors."
"I'll see what I can do," Rupert answered, moving to the cockpit again.
Then Han lifted Luke's weight to turn him towards the cabins. "Come on, Luke. You need to rest."
Luke nodded and allowed himself to be carried to the co-pilot's cabin without argument. Han was not surprised to see tears roll unashamedly down his long-time friend's face.
.
.
.
"Well, young lady, would you like some company with your breakfast?"
Brenna looked up from the meal she had only been toying with at the sound of Han's voice. She pushed the tray away when she saw who was with him. "Dad."
Luke smiled as he entered the cabin, leaning on Han ever-so-slightly for support. Han found a chair for the Jedi to sit in, since Luke was still a little weak after the ordeal. Then the Corellian left, figuring that father and daughter had a lot to talk about."
How are you feeling?" Luke asked after a long moment.
"Fine," Brenna said. She hesitated, then dropped some of the pretense. "Not fine. I was scared to death down there."
"Good," Luke said.
"Why?" Brenna asked in astonishment.
"Because now you know how I feel every time I sense you playing with the Force."
"Oh, Dad—" Brenna's voice caught, and she looked away.
"I'm sorry, Bren. I didn't mean to scold you. I was just so worried that we would lose you."
"And you." Brenna turned back and looked at her father, not fooled by his attempt to disguise the weariness and strain etched in his face. "You could have been killed, couldn't you?"
"Now, Bren, don't—"
"It's true. You had to pull me out of the bio-trance and draw the poison out." She drew in a shaky breath, then looked away again. "Why didn't you tell me the truth before?"
"What do you mean?" Luke asked, not understanding.
"Why...you wouldn't train me."
Luke stared at her. He had told her the truth. The reason he hadn't trained her was Etan Lippa.
Brenna closed her eyes. "I should've known that the pit was there," she said. "I should've been able to keep the snakes from biting. I shouldn't have gone so deep into the trance." She hesitated, then added, "Instead, I let myself be overcome by a stupid, childish fear that even a toddler outgrows."
"Everyone has fears," Luke said. He'd meant to comfort, but his words sounded flat even in his own ears.
"Not you. Not the Jedi. Not even the novice you sent down in the pit after me. He knew the pit was there, and how to control the snakes. And he wasn't afraid of the dark."
Luke was silent. She didn't realize that Rupert's gifts were unique, that every sensitive's gifts were as unique as the individuals themselves. She didn't know that Rupert's gifts could destroy him if he weren't trained, as easily as Brenna's could destroy her, if she were.
She drew in a shaky breath, still without looking at him. "I understand now. And I won't…I won't ever use the Force again. I promise." She bit her lower lip and held it a moment before releasing it. Then she said, "I think I'd better give you something..." Brenna rolled off the bed, stood up and went over to her travel-case, favoring her bitten leg. She rummaged around her clothes for a second, found what she was searching for, then limped back to the bed.
She placed a gleaming metal tube into her father's hand.
Luke felt his anger rise as he looked down at the Jedi weapon he had all but forbidden Brenna to possess. "Where did you get this?" he demanded.
Brenna looked down at the floor. "I made it," she replied quietly.
Her father stared at her, his anger being replaced by incredulity. "You...made it?"
She nodded. Shame registered on her face, and she sat back on the bed.
Luke was speechless. The lightsaber looked like it had been constructed by a Master Jedi Knight. The seams fit together so precisely they were all but invisible, and the metal was polished to a bright gleam. There was even a design etched into the guard and pommel. Only its light weight testified to its incompleteness. The expensive energy cell needed to make it work was the only thing lacking.
"I'm sorry. I don't know why I did it. I guess...I don't know." Brenna turned away, but not before Luke saw the pain-filled expression in her eyes. Luke reached out towards her again, but the instant he touched her, she pulled away, and he let his hand fall back to his side.
There was a moment of silence before Brenna spoke again. "Would you...leave me alone for a while, please."
Luke nodded and stood up, feeling suddenly very old. He kissed Brenna on the top of the head and then moved toward the door. Just as he was about to leave, Brenna said softly, "Father—"
Luke stopped without turning back, somehow knowing that Brenna wasn't looking at him, either, and that the formal address of him as 'Father' was an indication of the distance that now seemed to be between them.
“I’m sorry I was so stubborn before. And...thank you...for bringing me back.”
Luke nodded again, fighting a large lump in his throat, as he left the room. He had just won the most important argument he'd ever had with Brenna, but somehow it felt as if he had lost.
-----
Chapter Seventeen
For the next day and a half, the Falcon's crew worked hard to get her as space-worthy as she was going to get without a major overhaul in a port facility, while trying to keep out of sight of Etan Lippa's searcher ships. It was mostly Han, Chewbacca, and Rupert who did the work. Luke was a genuine help, but he still looked tired, and Han purposefully saved the jobs that required heavy lifting for Chewbacca, Rupert and himself. Brenna helped, too, but only when asked. Several times Rupert had asked Brenna for a hand with some minor task, and she had worked without complaint, but she had been so much more machine than person that he stopped asking her, and Han wasn't inclined to deal with her, either. Lucy helped mostly by keeping Poul out of everyone's hair. Threepio translated the Falcon's self-analysis "peculiar dialect" into standard. Artoo was also busy repairing those systems that an astromech 'droid could repair faster and easier than humans or Wookiee.
And in the meantime, Rupert acquired a new pet.
Lucy discovered it the next evening after Brenna was rescued from the krail pit, when she was looking for Poul and found him in Rupert's cabin. They couldn't work outside in the dark, because ships flew by overhead with great frequency, and they didn't want Etan Lippa finding them through something as simple as their leaving the lights on after dark, and all the repairs that could be managed from the inside were completed.
"Rue, what is that?" Lucy asked, pointing to the terrarium set-up Rupert had added to his cabin, and at which Poul was staring intently in the dim light to which Rupert had adjusted his cabin.
Rupert grinned. "That, Lucy, is a krail."
"If I didn't know you better," Lucy said, "I'd swear you were joking."
"Want to see? He's just a baby."
Lucy shuddered. "No, thanks. Where'd it come from? You didn't bring it back on purpose, did you?"
"No, of course not. I found him curled up around my ankle when I was getting undressed. Didn't even know he was there. Must've climbed up inside my pant leg when I wasn't looking."
"What," Lucy asked, "are you going to do with it?"
Rupert shrugged. "Keep him, I guess. Putting him back with his fellows would mean going back to the pit, and nobody really wants to do that. If I just dump him in the sand, he'll starve."
"Dad know you have him?"
"Yup, and so does Luke. He thinks it’s a good idea to keep a pet, says it’s good for practice."
Lucy studied her younger brother, who had his nose pressed to the make-shift plexiglass cage Rupert had set up. "Poul might try to get to him."
"I've got a lock on the cage. He can't get to him without the codes."
Lucy shook her head at the insanities of her two brothers, and left.
Finally, after the second day, they had a green light on all systems, although there was really no way to check the hyperdrive to see if it was working without actually lifting off. Han went to see Luke to find out what he wanted to do.
"You decide," Luke said.
"Doesn't that sixth sense of yours tell you whether it's better to stay or leave?"
"No. And if I try to use it, Lippa could track us through it."
"So it's fifty-fifty, whichever we do?"
"I wouldn't rate our chances that high for either. But if you're looking for odds, I'd say they're slightly better if we leave."
"Never tell me the odds,” Han said. He sighed. “Etan Lippa could have a whole armada waiting for us as soon as we take off."
Luke nodded. "And the longer we stay here, the better his chances are of finding us. Especially since we have three confirmed Force-sensitives on board. Sooner or later, someone's going to make a mistake, or Lippa's ships are going to get lucky."
"And the longer we stay, the more ships he can bring to search for us."
"As I said…" Luke reminded him.
"Same as always," Han commented. "I'm getting too old for this stuff."
.
.
.
At takeoff, the Falcon's crew consisted of Han as captain, Rupert as co-pilot, and Chewbacca as navigator. Rupert had decided to step down as captain and turned the ship over to his father because of Han's combat experience and knowledge of the Falcon.
Luke was already in the belly turret, with guns charged and ready to go. It was the same gun he had first operated on the Falcon, after they had rescued Leia and were trying to escape from the first Death Star.
Luke had insisted that Brenna go to the main passenger compartment with Lucy, Poul and the 'droids, hoping that their familiarity with space-flight would help to keep her fear of the dark to a minimum. He also had Rupert raise the lights inside the cabin to their maximum level.
Lucy tried to engage Brenna in conversation, but soon gave up the effort as hopeless. Poul, on the other hand, talked too much. He was excited about the prospect of battle engagement, and too overconfident of the abilities of his father and brother to handle any situation they came across. He and Threepio made up for the reticence of the girls with a steady stream of chatter.
The Falcon hadn't even climbed out of the atmosphere before they picked up the TIEs following them.
"Damn," Han remarked.
"We've got to make a run for it now," Rupert said. "There's no way we can land again without them tracking it."
Chewbacca had unstrapped himself and was already moving to the top gun turret.
“Here they come, Luke,” Han said into his headset.
The Falcon gave a lurch that indicated they'd been hit.
"Five bogies in sector six," Rupert commented.
"Yeah, I see them,” Han replied.
"And five more in sector three."
"What?" Han glanced at the read-out where five blips had just started to appear, and adjusted his course to dive underneath the oncoming ships."
"Now in sectors two and five. They're changing course to follow."
"Do we have jump coordinates yet?"
Rupert looked at the nav-computer. "Still red-line. Do you think the hyperdrive will work?"
"Aw, who knows." Han switched his intercom speaker on. "They're all yours, Chewie!"
Streaks of light shot by overhead as Chewbacca tried to hit his targets. The bolts of light swept lower as the Wookiee tried to follow the diving fighters, then started up high again as he went after a new target. Han put the Falcon into a roll as he saw which direction the fighters were trying to go to duck, and was rewarded by small display of sparks that indicated a hit to the TIE's stabilizers. Han dipped the other way, and Luke finished off the TIE as it came into range of his gun.
Rupert didn't see the actual explosion, since it occurred underneath the Falcon, but he saw a flash of light come from that direction and saw the ship disappear from the scope. He tried not to think of the fact that his teacher had just killed the pilot of that ship. "One down," he said.
Then there was a second flash of light from underneath, and a second blip disappeared. "Two," Han corrected. "Luke, you've got another one coming into range."
"I see it!" Luke replied over the head-set. The fighter started to pass by underneath, but exploded before it could pass out of visual range.
"Five more coming up in sector eight," Rupert said.
"Damn!" Han exclaimed, not double-checking him, but immediately looping the Falcon up towards the planet. "We really could use those jump coordinates!"
"Then stay on course," his son suggested. Each time they changed course, the nav-computer had to compensate, which took longer to get the jump data.
Chewbacca missed his second TIE when the Falcon lurched again.
"Grrnaagghhhwahh!" the Wookiee complained.
"Stop missing!" Han retorted.
But Chewbacca had already gotten his second. Luke's count climbed to four.
"Eight more in sector nine," Rupert called out.
Han changed course again, heading for Tatooine's moon, looking to use it as a shield.
Rupert looked at where he was going for a second. He had a bad feeling about it. "I'm not sure we should do that," Rupert said.
"Why not?"
"I don't know, I just—"
Then, suddenly coming out from behind the moon into visual range, hidden from the Falcon's sensors by the same gravitational fields Han was hoping to use to hide the Falcon, Han saw why not. It was a Star Destroyer. It looked like the same one Han had seen jumping into hyperspace above Coruscant.
"Sweet Deities," Rupert murmured.
"I saw that ship jump out of Coruscant space just before I did," Han said. As he talked, he cut power to the forward engines and turned on the reverse thrusters, which ordinarily would have slammed the Falcon into reverse. All it did this time was cause the freighter to shudder. It didn't stop the forward motion.
"What's wrong?" his son wanted to know.
"Tractor beam! Switch all secondary power to reverse thrusters!"
Hitting the switches made little difference. All it did was make the engine temperatures climb. "We're overheating," Rupert remarked.
"Never mind. Shut down the engines." Han switched on the headset. "Luke! Chewie! Get down here! We're caught in a tractor beam!"
In the passenger cabin, Brenna and the others watched the gunners return to the cockpit. Luke glanced at her as he passed, but said nothing. It wouldn't have done any good, at this point. He could sense her fear from the battle. And if he could sense her fear, so could Lippa.
"I don't suppose there's any chance we can break out of it?" Luke asked.
"We'd have done it by now if there was." Han glanced back at Luke. "I may be picking up on this Force stuff. I've got a deja-vu feeling about all this. The contraband holds?" he asked.
Luke shrugged. "It worked once before. But I think Lippa knows we're here.
"All of us?"
"Brenna and me, at least."
"All right. Rupert, get your brother and sister and yourself into the third hold. Chewie and I'll join you in a few minutes. Luke—?"
"Go ahead. No sense in Lippa getting all of us."
"I'm sorry, Pal. But my kids…" Han waved a helpless hand back towards the passenger cabin where Lucy and Poul were travelling.
Luke nodded his head back towards the compartments. "I'll give you as long as I can."
Han held out his hand. Luke shook it. Then the handshake became a hug. Luke glanced at the window at the Star Destroyer growing larger in the window, and pulled away. "Go," Luke said.
There was no blame, on either side. Han held his hand out to his son, who hadn't made a move toward the passenger cabin. "Rue—"
Rupert shook his head. "They have to know there were at least three of us, a pilot and two gunners. And without him—" he looked at Luke "—I don't have a chance anyway." He shrugged.
It took Han a second to realize what Rupert was saying. "Rue—"
"Come on, Dad. I'll help you get settled."
Too numb to argue, Han was ushered by Chewbacca and his son back to the passenger compartment. He couldn't quite believe that he had lost. He had lost his wife, he had lost the battle, and now he was about to lose a son. He just didn't believe it.
Luke, too, was in a state of shock. He moved mechanically, shutting down systems and altering the logs. He had known this was a possibility, had tried to plan for it, to prevent it, and in the end, it hadn't done a jawa's portion of good.
In the passenger's compartment, Rupert motioned to his brother and sister. "Lucy, Poul, come on. We're caught in a tractor beam. Time to hide in the contraband holds."
Lucy unbuckled her seatbelt. "What about Brenna?"
Rupert glanced at Brenna with a look she couldn't read. "Brenna and I…are staying with her father."
"And the 'droids?" Poul piped, not catching the implication of what Rupert had said.
"The 'droids…will hide in the holds, too," Han said. "Come on, Goldenrod, Artoo."
Brenna watched them go with the dawning realization that she, Rupert, and her father weren't going to be hiding with the others. There had to be only one explanation. Her fear had caused a ripple that Etan Lippa had picked up. Swallowing the bile that rose to her throat, she undid her belt and made her way to the cockpit.
Luke was just finishing the log alterations when he felt her presence, and her fear, which was amplified by the darkness of space. He stood up and turned to face her.
"Dad…I'm sorry," Brenna said softly.
Luke closed his eyes briefly, and drew in a ragged breath. He held out his hands and pulled her close. "Bren—"
Brenna allowed him to embrace her, but she didn't return the hug. It was her fault they were about to be captured. If she had just done what her father had told her, if she wasn't so afraid all the time, if she hadn't fallen into the krail pit…
"I'm sorry, Dad," she repeated.
Luke tightened his hold. "Bren…stick as close to me as you can. I’ll try not to let Lippa hurt you." He didn't tell her the rest of what he was thinking. He was thinking that there would not be any chance for escape, but he still had his lightsaber. He would never be able to defeat Lippa in a duel—he knew how powerful Palpatine's son was—but he could still use his lightsaber…on her. He might have time, if he was lucky. He wouldn't do it until he was absolutely certain it was time, and he knew there wouldn't be time for anything more. Etan Lippa would stop him before he could use it on himself, or Rupert. Lippa would punish him for that, no doubt, stretching his own death out to make it as long and as painful as possible. Rupert would probably also suffer for it. But at least Brenna wouldn't have to go through what Wedge and the others went through before they died.
Maybe he could do that for Brenna.
Maybe.
If he didn’t hesitate.
Luke just stood there for a few minutes, holding her, as the maw of the landing bay became visible through the cockpit window. Then the thought occurred to him that there was no longer any point in trying to hide his Force-sensitivity. At this point, it could only help them. He stretched out with his feelings towards the Star Destroyer, expecting to encounter Etan Lippa, and instead he enountered…
"Leia!" he exclaimed in surprise, and pulled away from Brenna.
"What?" Brenna asked uncomprehendingly.
Rupert was just coming back from the contraband holds when he overheard Luke say his mother's name. "What about Mom?"
Luke dropped his hands from around Brenna and ran back towards the contraband holds. He slid to his knees on the floor by one of the compartments and felt for the ever-so-slight indentation by which the panel could be lifted, found it, and raised the lid.
Han was on the floor of the hold, his back against Chewbacca, holding Lucy and Poul, with Chewbacca's arms protectively surrounding the whole group. Lucy and Poul were obviously scared. When Han looked up, Luke saw that he had been crying.
"What—" Han cleared his throat and began again. "What is it?"
"Come with me," Luke said, extending a hand to help Han out of the pit.
Han looked back at Lucy and Poul. "Stay here," he ordered. Then motioned to Chewbacca. "Chewie—"
Chewbacca, simian tree-dweller that he was, climbed out of the hold easily. Luke led Han and Chewie off a short way from the contraband holds and wiped his forehead with the edge of his hand. "Leia's on the Star Destroyer," he said. "I need to know what you want to do."
Han shook his head to shake off the surprise. "Can you contact her?" he asked.
"No. I don't get anything more than a vague sense of her presence. She's alive, and she's on board that Star Destroyer, but…" he shook his head.
"What about Lippa?"
"I get nothing. He might be on board. He might not. I don't know." Luke breathed in and out. If Lippa was not on board, then there might still be a chance for Brenna, and himself, and Rupert. "So what do you want to do."
Han was torn with indecision. Leia was here? And Etan Lippa might or might not be! Did he dare risk leaving the two children he might be able to save alone for the sake of a rescue effort that was probably doomed? And what about Rupert? It was impossible for him to accept the idea of Rupert's capture, or Rupert's imminent insanity if he escaped without Luke to train him.
"What do you want to do?" Luke repeated.
It was a female voice that answered. "We find Mom."
They turned to see Lucy and Poul, who naturally had disobeyed orders and climbed out of the contraband hold and had heard everything. "We find Mom," Lucy repeated. "And we stick together. All of us." She already had Poul by one hand. She reached out and grabbed Rupert's hand. "All of us. Including Rupert. And Luke. And Brenna. Whatever happens to one of us happens to all of us."
Luke switched his gaze back to Han. "Your call."
Han nodded, and moved to his children. He put one hand on Rupert's shoulder and the other around Poul's. Chewbacca moved behind him, and the group was solidified. "We stay together," Han said. "And…we find Leia, or—" he saw his youngest son's frightened expression and gave a lopsided smile. He didn't finish his sentence 'or we die trying.' Instead, he repeated what he had just said, "And we find Leia."
.
.
.
They crowded, all nine of them, in the cockpit, as the maw of the landing bay swallowed them: Luke, Han, Rupert, Lucy, Brenna, Poul, Chewbacca, and the two 'droids, who had been retrieved from the other hold.
In actuality, there were ten of them, since Rupert had gone back to his cabin, retrieved the baby krail, and let it wind around his ankle, under the darkness of his pants leg. The snake was small, and its venom weak, but Rupert still took it. He had become familiar with it, by now, had bonded with it on some level, enough that it wouldn’t bite him, and in Rupert’s view, it was part of the family.
"I don't see anybody," Rupert remarked. "There should be somebody."
"Where are they?" Han asked. "No 'droids, no troopers, no nothin'!"
"This is weird," Poul said.
The Falcon came to a halt, alone in the landing bay of the Star Destroyer. Automated landing claws reached out to secure the freighter. Still no troops.
They waited several more minutes.
"I don't like this," Luke said.
"Rrraaannnggh," Chewie said.
"Yeah," Han agreed. "I like it better than the alternative. I just wish I could explain it. I don't suppose Leia could be behind it?"
"No. I'm quite sure she's not," Luke answered. Wherever Leia was, she wasn't in control of the situation.
As they watched, a blast door in front of the Falcon opened. It stayed open. No troops came through it into the landing bay.
"Oh," said C-3PO. "They've opened a door for us."
Artoo whistled nervously.
"So what do we do?" Lucy asked.
"They gotta know we're here," Rupert said. "I mean, we were caught in the tractor beam. Unless they're all just waking up from their naps or somethin', they gotta know we're here."
Lucy shook her head. "Who opened the door? Are we supposed to march through it, like good little prisoners? Is somebody giving us an escape route? Or are they waiting to blast us out of existence on the other side?"
"Aw, Hell," Han said, in sudden decision. He'd been thinking too much like a father these days, trying to stay near his kids and protect them as best he could. In his younger, more reckless days, he'd have charged the door without a second thought. And somehow, he always managed to survive back then. Come to think of it, he'd also managed to rescue Leia from a Death Star using that strategy, and a Death Star was even more powerful than a Star Destroyer. Maybe that was the strategy they needed to use now, a little recklessness. "If they were gonna blast us out of existence, they'd have done it by now." He went back to the passenger cabin, followed by the others. He drew his blaster, and turned back to face the others. "Stay here."
"We stick together, remember?" Lucy reminded him.
"Fine," Han said. He opened a secret cabinet near the ramp controls, took out the two blasters that were stowed there, gave one to Brenna, and offered the other to Luke, who shook his head and indicated his lightsaber, which was his preferred weapon. Han shrugged, drew his favorite blaster and holstered the other in its place. Having a spare wouldn’t hurt. Rupert and Lucy unholstered their weapons. Chewie had his bowcaster. Poul took his crystalline knife out of its sheathe. Everyone was armed.
"Luke, take the rear," Han said.
They went down the ramp cautiously. Luke went last, following Threepio and Artoo, staying close to Brenna and keeping her close to the group. He watched for any sign of activity, and found none. They went through the blast doors without incident, and found a corridor beyond.
The corridor was just as empty as the landing bay appeared to be.
Han looked at Luke, who shrugged, then started down the corridor. He was followed by Rupert, then Chewbacca, then Lucy with Poul in tow, then Brenna and Luke.
Luke glanced behind, but neither his eyes nor his other senses gave off a warning that anyone was following, beyond the vague sense of danger that he didn’t need the Force to warn him about.
They came to a Y in the corridor, and the group came to a halt.
"Which way?" Han wondered.
Nobody had an answer, and Luke couldn't get a sense of either Leia's location or one being better than the other, so Han just picked the one on the left.
They hadn't gone far when they heard a dull clang! echo through the empty corridors, and they stopped again.
"What was that?" Han wanted to know.
"I'll go see," Rupert volunteered.
He trotted past the group the way they had come, and returned a few minutes later. "The blast doors are shut again," he announced. "We're cut off from the Falcon."
Lucy let out of stream of air. "Well, I guess there's no turning back now," she said quietly.
"Who's there to shut 'em?" Poul wanted to know.
Artoo found a computer terminal and plugged into it. After a moment, he emitted several electronic beeps.
"Artoo says that the ship is automated, being controlled remotely," Threepio translated.
"You can't automate a ship this size," Han said.
"If it is automated, we've got a better chance at escape," Rupert pointed out. "All we've got to do is take out the command center, or the communications."
"Yeah, and either one could be rigged to blast anyone without the right codes tries to tamper with it," Han replied. "But unless anyone has a better idea…?"
No one did.
"All right," Han said, "Let's see if we can find the control center. Luke, can that 'droid of yours pull up a schematic of this ship?"
"Artoo?" Luke said.
Artoo Detoo interfaced with the terminal again for a few seconds, then whistled.
Threepio translated again. "Artoo says that that information is classified, and is only available with the proper codes. He says that there were no available schematics in the New Republic databanks as of the last time he updated his programming."
"Great," Han muttered. "I don't suppose he could just scan for the control room."
Artoo emitted another series of beeps.
"Artoo says that the corridor is shielded. His scanners can't penetrate the shielding. I'm sorry, Captain Solo. It appears as if Artoo is completely useless in our present predicament."
Artoo whistled a protest.
"Well, it's quite true," Threepio argued. "You haven't given us one byte of useful information since we landed.
Artoo beeped and rocked back and forth on its two legs.
"Really, Artoo, can't you—"
"All right, all right," Han said. "Let's just see what we find." He started leading the group onward again. They came to another Y, and he picked the one on the right, this time. It sounded to him as if the noises from the engines were coming from the left, and therefore the command center was probably in the opposite direction.
The corridors wound in twists and turns. As they continued down them, there were more intersections. Some of them were Y's, some of them were T's, and some of them were X's. Sometimes Han picked the direction based on the sound of the Star Destroyer's engines. Sometimes he just picked it at random. They did a lot of walking, but they never seemed to arrive anywhere.
At one intersection, Han was just about to choose to go straight ahead when Rupert walked up to him, covering his mouth with his hand. "Dad?" he said in a barely audible voice.
"What is it, Son?" Han asked quietly.
"I think we're going around in circles." Rupert drew Han's attention with an eyegaze down to a tiny scratch on the paneling near the connecting way. "I used Poul's knife to make a mark like that at several of the intersections we passed."
Rupert had an uncanny knack for directions. If he thought they were going around in circles, and was making marks to verify their trail, then they had probably been going around in circles for some time.
"All right," Han said quietly, acknowledging Rupert's keener sense of direction. "You lead."
Rupert stood at the intersection a moment, then chose the corridor on the right.
For a while, the engine thrumming seemed to grow more quiet. But as the corridors twisted and snaked, it began to grow louder again.
And then they came to another connecting way, with another T intersection beyond it. Rupert stepped through the connecting way into the area where the corridors joined, and brought the group to a halt when he found another mark. "It's no use," he said. "I'm not getting anywhere, either."
"All right," Han told him. "Go take Luke's place as rear guard. Maybe he can get us out of this maze."
Rupert squeezed past Chewbacca, Lucy and Poul, and the 'droids. Luke had been keeping Brenna close to him throughout the journey through the corridors. "What is it?" he asked Rupert quietly.
"I think we're going around in circles. Dad wants you to lead."
"Stick with Brenna. Shoot anything behind us that moves."
Rupert nodded, and Luke stepped past him over the threshold of the connecting way. Suddenly a solid barrier came crashing down through the connecting way, cutting Brenna and Rupert from the main group, at the base of the Y where they had just come from.
Immediately, Luke’s lightsaber was in his hand and activated, and he sliced at the door, but the energy blade just bounced back and didn't even scorch the metal. “Brenna!” he yelled, not certain of whether she could hear him. “Stay where you are!”
“Let me try,” Han said grimly, pulling his blaster out of his holster. His son was on the other side of that door, too. Luke moved quickly away from the door. “Lucy, Poul—“ Han motioned for them to move further down one of the corridors of the Y. "Everyone, get back!"
"Wait," Luke said. "That could separate us more."
"Fine," Han said. "Everyone, hit the deck."
Luke knelt to one knee next to Han. Chewbacca gently pushed Poul and Lucy to the floor and covered them with his bulk. Threepio groaned a complaint and lay down next to them. Artoo, unable to lie down, was squat enough not to be in danger. Han knelt next to Luke, raised the hand that was holding the blaster, covered his eyes with his other hand, checked to see that everyone was ready, and squeezed off a series of shots without moving his hand or looking at his target, making each successive shot hit the same place. The bolts from the blaster hit the shielding and ricocheted down one of the corridors, flashing over the heads of the group. When Han stopped shooting and peeked through his fingers, there wasn’t even a mark on the door. The others looked up after the sound of the last ricochet died away.
“What now?” Han asked.
Luke shook his head. “We have to find another way around.” He doubted that Etan Lippa would be so careless as to leave an open passageway. But he might have left a section of bulkhead without shielding, if they could find it.
"In this maze?"
"Yeah."
Luke turned to study the juncture where the “Y” had become a “V”. As he did, twin panels dropped from the ceiling, blocking both passages, closing the group into the tiny area, and causing Lucy to gasp in surprise and alarm.
“We’re trapped,” she said.
Poul began to cry.
.
.
.
Rupert and Brenna listened to the attempts to beat down the barrier. When the first sound of blaster fire bouncing against the door came, Rupert grabbed Brenna’s arm and pulled her back and away and down. He needn’t have bothered. None of the bolts penetrated.
“What now?” Rupert asked. His timing was just about the same as father’s in asking that same question on the other side of the door.
As if in answer to his question, what looked like a solid section of wall suddenly lifted, revealing a passageway.
Brenna, doubly annoyed at Rupert for trying to protect her and for being her father’s student, took the opportunity to separate herself from him, even if it was only for a couple of steps.
"Brenna, wait—"
He started to follow, but then the wall came crashing down again between them, separating them absolutely.
"Brenna!" Rupert called.
For the next day and a half, the Falcon's crew worked hard to get her as space-worthy as she was going to get without a major overhaul in a port facility, while trying to keep out of sight of Etan Lippa's searcher ships. It was mostly Han, Chewbacca, and Rupert who did the work. Luke was a genuine help, but he still looked tired, and Han purposefully saved the jobs that required heavy lifting for Chewbacca, Rupert and himself. Brenna helped, too, but only when asked. Several times Rupert had asked Brenna for a hand with some minor task, and she had worked without complaint, but she had been so much more machine than person that he stopped asking her, and Han wasn't inclined to deal with her, either. Lucy helped mostly by keeping Poul out of everyone's hair. Threepio translated the Falcon's self-analysis "peculiar dialect" into standard. Artoo was also busy repairing those systems that an astromech 'droid could repair faster and easier than humans or Wookiee.
And in the meantime, Rupert acquired a new pet.
Lucy discovered it the next evening after Brenna was rescued from the krail pit, when she was looking for Poul and found him in Rupert's cabin. They couldn't work outside in the dark, because ships flew by overhead with great frequency, and they didn't want Etan Lippa finding them through something as simple as their leaving the lights on after dark, and all the repairs that could be managed from the inside were completed.
"Rue, what is that?" Lucy asked, pointing to the terrarium set-up Rupert had added to his cabin, and at which Poul was staring intently in the dim light to which Rupert had adjusted his cabin.
Rupert grinned. "That, Lucy, is a krail."
"If I didn't know you better," Lucy said, "I'd swear you were joking."
"Want to see? He's just a baby."
Lucy shuddered. "No, thanks. Where'd it come from? You didn't bring it back on purpose, did you?"
"No, of course not. I found him curled up around my ankle when I was getting undressed. Didn't even know he was there. Must've climbed up inside my pant leg when I wasn't looking."
"What," Lucy asked, "are you going to do with it?"
Rupert shrugged. "Keep him, I guess. Putting him back with his fellows would mean going back to the pit, and nobody really wants to do that. If I just dump him in the sand, he'll starve."
"Dad know you have him?"
"Yup, and so does Luke. He thinks it’s a good idea to keep a pet, says it’s good for practice."
Lucy studied her younger brother, who had his nose pressed to the make-shift plexiglass cage Rupert had set up. "Poul might try to get to him."
"I've got a lock on the cage. He can't get to him without the codes."
Lucy shook her head at the insanities of her two brothers, and left.
Finally, after the second day, they had a green light on all systems, although there was really no way to check the hyperdrive to see if it was working without actually lifting off. Han went to see Luke to find out what he wanted to do.
"You decide," Luke said.
"Doesn't that sixth sense of yours tell you whether it's better to stay or leave?"
"No. And if I try to use it, Lippa could track us through it."
"So it's fifty-fifty, whichever we do?"
"I wouldn't rate our chances that high for either. But if you're looking for odds, I'd say they're slightly better if we leave."
"Never tell me the odds,” Han said. He sighed. “Etan Lippa could have a whole armada waiting for us as soon as we take off."
Luke nodded. "And the longer we stay here, the better his chances are of finding us. Especially since we have three confirmed Force-sensitives on board. Sooner or later, someone's going to make a mistake, or Lippa's ships are going to get lucky."
"And the longer we stay, the more ships he can bring to search for us."
"As I said…" Luke reminded him.
"Same as always," Han commented. "I'm getting too old for this stuff."
.
.
.
At takeoff, the Falcon's crew consisted of Han as captain, Rupert as co-pilot, and Chewbacca as navigator. Rupert had decided to step down as captain and turned the ship over to his father because of Han's combat experience and knowledge of the Falcon.
Luke was already in the belly turret, with guns charged and ready to go. It was the same gun he had first operated on the Falcon, after they had rescued Leia and were trying to escape from the first Death Star.
Luke had insisted that Brenna go to the main passenger compartment with Lucy, Poul and the 'droids, hoping that their familiarity with space-flight would help to keep her fear of the dark to a minimum. He also had Rupert raise the lights inside the cabin to their maximum level.
Lucy tried to engage Brenna in conversation, but soon gave up the effort as hopeless. Poul, on the other hand, talked too much. He was excited about the prospect of battle engagement, and too overconfident of the abilities of his father and brother to handle any situation they came across. He and Threepio made up for the reticence of the girls with a steady stream of chatter.
The Falcon hadn't even climbed out of the atmosphere before they picked up the TIEs following them.
"Damn," Han remarked.
"We've got to make a run for it now," Rupert said. "There's no way we can land again without them tracking it."
Chewbacca had unstrapped himself and was already moving to the top gun turret.
“Here they come, Luke,” Han said into his headset.
The Falcon gave a lurch that indicated they'd been hit.
"Five bogies in sector six," Rupert commented.
"Yeah, I see them,” Han replied.
"And five more in sector three."
"What?" Han glanced at the read-out where five blips had just started to appear, and adjusted his course to dive underneath the oncoming ships."
"Now in sectors two and five. They're changing course to follow."
"Do we have jump coordinates yet?"
Rupert looked at the nav-computer. "Still red-line. Do you think the hyperdrive will work?"
"Aw, who knows." Han switched his intercom speaker on. "They're all yours, Chewie!"
Streaks of light shot by overhead as Chewbacca tried to hit his targets. The bolts of light swept lower as the Wookiee tried to follow the diving fighters, then started up high again as he went after a new target. Han put the Falcon into a roll as he saw which direction the fighters were trying to go to duck, and was rewarded by small display of sparks that indicated a hit to the TIE's stabilizers. Han dipped the other way, and Luke finished off the TIE as it came into range of his gun.
Rupert didn't see the actual explosion, since it occurred underneath the Falcon, but he saw a flash of light come from that direction and saw the ship disappear from the scope. He tried not to think of the fact that his teacher had just killed the pilot of that ship. "One down," he said.
Then there was a second flash of light from underneath, and a second blip disappeared. "Two," Han corrected. "Luke, you've got another one coming into range."
"I see it!" Luke replied over the head-set. The fighter started to pass by underneath, but exploded before it could pass out of visual range.
"Five more coming up in sector eight," Rupert said.
"Damn!" Han exclaimed, not double-checking him, but immediately looping the Falcon up towards the planet. "We really could use those jump coordinates!"
"Then stay on course," his son suggested. Each time they changed course, the nav-computer had to compensate, which took longer to get the jump data.
Chewbacca missed his second TIE when the Falcon lurched again.
"Grrnaagghhhwahh!" the Wookiee complained.
"Stop missing!" Han retorted.
But Chewbacca had already gotten his second. Luke's count climbed to four.
"Eight more in sector nine," Rupert called out.
Han changed course again, heading for Tatooine's moon, looking to use it as a shield.
Rupert looked at where he was going for a second. He had a bad feeling about it. "I'm not sure we should do that," Rupert said.
"Why not?"
"I don't know, I just—"
Then, suddenly coming out from behind the moon into visual range, hidden from the Falcon's sensors by the same gravitational fields Han was hoping to use to hide the Falcon, Han saw why not. It was a Star Destroyer. It looked like the same one Han had seen jumping into hyperspace above Coruscant.
"Sweet Deities," Rupert murmured.
"I saw that ship jump out of Coruscant space just before I did," Han said. As he talked, he cut power to the forward engines and turned on the reverse thrusters, which ordinarily would have slammed the Falcon into reverse. All it did this time was cause the freighter to shudder. It didn't stop the forward motion.
"What's wrong?" his son wanted to know.
"Tractor beam! Switch all secondary power to reverse thrusters!"
Hitting the switches made little difference. All it did was make the engine temperatures climb. "We're overheating," Rupert remarked.
"Never mind. Shut down the engines." Han switched on the headset. "Luke! Chewie! Get down here! We're caught in a tractor beam!"
In the passenger cabin, Brenna and the others watched the gunners return to the cockpit. Luke glanced at her as he passed, but said nothing. It wouldn't have done any good, at this point. He could sense her fear from the battle. And if he could sense her fear, so could Lippa.
"I don't suppose there's any chance we can break out of it?" Luke asked.
"We'd have done it by now if there was." Han glanced back at Luke. "I may be picking up on this Force stuff. I've got a deja-vu feeling about all this. The contraband holds?" he asked.
Luke shrugged. "It worked once before. But I think Lippa knows we're here.
"All of us?"
"Brenna and me, at least."
"All right. Rupert, get your brother and sister and yourself into the third hold. Chewie and I'll join you in a few minutes. Luke—?"
"Go ahead. No sense in Lippa getting all of us."
"I'm sorry, Pal. But my kids…" Han waved a helpless hand back towards the passenger cabin where Lucy and Poul were travelling.
Luke nodded his head back towards the compartments. "I'll give you as long as I can."
Han held out his hand. Luke shook it. Then the handshake became a hug. Luke glanced at the window at the Star Destroyer growing larger in the window, and pulled away. "Go," Luke said.
There was no blame, on either side. Han held his hand out to his son, who hadn't made a move toward the passenger cabin. "Rue—"
Rupert shook his head. "They have to know there were at least three of us, a pilot and two gunners. And without him—" he looked at Luke "—I don't have a chance anyway." He shrugged.
It took Han a second to realize what Rupert was saying. "Rue—"
"Come on, Dad. I'll help you get settled."
Too numb to argue, Han was ushered by Chewbacca and his son back to the passenger compartment. He couldn't quite believe that he had lost. He had lost his wife, he had lost the battle, and now he was about to lose a son. He just didn't believe it.
Luke, too, was in a state of shock. He moved mechanically, shutting down systems and altering the logs. He had known this was a possibility, had tried to plan for it, to prevent it, and in the end, it hadn't done a jawa's portion of good.
In the passenger's compartment, Rupert motioned to his brother and sister. "Lucy, Poul, come on. We're caught in a tractor beam. Time to hide in the contraband holds."
Lucy unbuckled her seatbelt. "What about Brenna?"
Rupert glanced at Brenna with a look she couldn't read. "Brenna and I…are staying with her father."
"And the 'droids?" Poul piped, not catching the implication of what Rupert had said.
"The 'droids…will hide in the holds, too," Han said. "Come on, Goldenrod, Artoo."
Brenna watched them go with the dawning realization that she, Rupert, and her father weren't going to be hiding with the others. There had to be only one explanation. Her fear had caused a ripple that Etan Lippa had picked up. Swallowing the bile that rose to her throat, she undid her belt and made her way to the cockpit.
Luke was just finishing the log alterations when he felt her presence, and her fear, which was amplified by the darkness of space. He stood up and turned to face her.
"Dad…I'm sorry," Brenna said softly.
Luke closed his eyes briefly, and drew in a ragged breath. He held out his hands and pulled her close. "Bren—"
Brenna allowed him to embrace her, but she didn't return the hug. It was her fault they were about to be captured. If she had just done what her father had told her, if she wasn't so afraid all the time, if she hadn't fallen into the krail pit…
"I'm sorry, Dad," she repeated.
Luke tightened his hold. "Bren…stick as close to me as you can. I’ll try not to let Lippa hurt you." He didn't tell her the rest of what he was thinking. He was thinking that there would not be any chance for escape, but he still had his lightsaber. He would never be able to defeat Lippa in a duel—he knew how powerful Palpatine's son was—but he could still use his lightsaber…on her. He might have time, if he was lucky. He wouldn't do it until he was absolutely certain it was time, and he knew there wouldn't be time for anything more. Etan Lippa would stop him before he could use it on himself, or Rupert. Lippa would punish him for that, no doubt, stretching his own death out to make it as long and as painful as possible. Rupert would probably also suffer for it. But at least Brenna wouldn't have to go through what Wedge and the others went through before they died.
Maybe he could do that for Brenna.
Maybe.
If he didn’t hesitate.
Luke just stood there for a few minutes, holding her, as the maw of the landing bay became visible through the cockpit window. Then the thought occurred to him that there was no longer any point in trying to hide his Force-sensitivity. At this point, it could only help them. He stretched out with his feelings towards the Star Destroyer, expecting to encounter Etan Lippa, and instead he enountered…
"Leia!" he exclaimed in surprise, and pulled away from Brenna.
"What?" Brenna asked uncomprehendingly.
Rupert was just coming back from the contraband holds when he overheard Luke say his mother's name. "What about Mom?"
Luke dropped his hands from around Brenna and ran back towards the contraband holds. He slid to his knees on the floor by one of the compartments and felt for the ever-so-slight indentation by which the panel could be lifted, found it, and raised the lid.
Han was on the floor of the hold, his back against Chewbacca, holding Lucy and Poul, with Chewbacca's arms protectively surrounding the whole group. Lucy and Poul were obviously scared. When Han looked up, Luke saw that he had been crying.
"What—" Han cleared his throat and began again. "What is it?"
"Come with me," Luke said, extending a hand to help Han out of the pit.
Han looked back at Lucy and Poul. "Stay here," he ordered. Then motioned to Chewbacca. "Chewie—"
Chewbacca, simian tree-dweller that he was, climbed out of the hold easily. Luke led Han and Chewie off a short way from the contraband holds and wiped his forehead with the edge of his hand. "Leia's on the Star Destroyer," he said. "I need to know what you want to do."
Han shook his head to shake off the surprise. "Can you contact her?" he asked.
"No. I don't get anything more than a vague sense of her presence. She's alive, and she's on board that Star Destroyer, but…" he shook his head.
"What about Lippa?"
"I get nothing. He might be on board. He might not. I don't know." Luke breathed in and out. If Lippa was not on board, then there might still be a chance for Brenna, and himself, and Rupert. "So what do you want to do."
Han was torn with indecision. Leia was here? And Etan Lippa might or might not be! Did he dare risk leaving the two children he might be able to save alone for the sake of a rescue effort that was probably doomed? And what about Rupert? It was impossible for him to accept the idea of Rupert's capture, or Rupert's imminent insanity if he escaped without Luke to train him.
"What do you want to do?" Luke repeated.
It was a female voice that answered. "We find Mom."
They turned to see Lucy and Poul, who naturally had disobeyed orders and climbed out of the contraband hold and had heard everything. "We find Mom," Lucy repeated. "And we stick together. All of us." She already had Poul by one hand. She reached out and grabbed Rupert's hand. "All of us. Including Rupert. And Luke. And Brenna. Whatever happens to one of us happens to all of us."
Luke switched his gaze back to Han. "Your call."
Han nodded, and moved to his children. He put one hand on Rupert's shoulder and the other around Poul's. Chewbacca moved behind him, and the group was solidified. "We stay together," Han said. "And…we find Leia, or—" he saw his youngest son's frightened expression and gave a lopsided smile. He didn't finish his sentence 'or we die trying.' Instead, he repeated what he had just said, "And we find Leia."
.
.
.
They crowded, all nine of them, in the cockpit, as the maw of the landing bay swallowed them: Luke, Han, Rupert, Lucy, Brenna, Poul, Chewbacca, and the two 'droids, who had been retrieved from the other hold.
In actuality, there were ten of them, since Rupert had gone back to his cabin, retrieved the baby krail, and let it wind around his ankle, under the darkness of his pants leg. The snake was small, and its venom weak, but Rupert still took it. He had become familiar with it, by now, had bonded with it on some level, enough that it wouldn’t bite him, and in Rupert’s view, it was part of the family.
"I don't see anybody," Rupert remarked. "There should be somebody."
"Where are they?" Han asked. "No 'droids, no troopers, no nothin'!"
"This is weird," Poul said.
The Falcon came to a halt, alone in the landing bay of the Star Destroyer. Automated landing claws reached out to secure the freighter. Still no troops.
They waited several more minutes.
"I don't like this," Luke said.
"Rrraaannnggh," Chewie said.
"Yeah," Han agreed. "I like it better than the alternative. I just wish I could explain it. I don't suppose Leia could be behind it?"
"No. I'm quite sure she's not," Luke answered. Wherever Leia was, she wasn't in control of the situation.
As they watched, a blast door in front of the Falcon opened. It stayed open. No troops came through it into the landing bay.
"Oh," said C-3PO. "They've opened a door for us."
Artoo whistled nervously.
"So what do we do?" Lucy asked.
"They gotta know we're here," Rupert said. "I mean, we were caught in the tractor beam. Unless they're all just waking up from their naps or somethin', they gotta know we're here."
Lucy shook her head. "Who opened the door? Are we supposed to march through it, like good little prisoners? Is somebody giving us an escape route? Or are they waiting to blast us out of existence on the other side?"
"Aw, Hell," Han said, in sudden decision. He'd been thinking too much like a father these days, trying to stay near his kids and protect them as best he could. In his younger, more reckless days, he'd have charged the door without a second thought. And somehow, he always managed to survive back then. Come to think of it, he'd also managed to rescue Leia from a Death Star using that strategy, and a Death Star was even more powerful than a Star Destroyer. Maybe that was the strategy they needed to use now, a little recklessness. "If they were gonna blast us out of existence, they'd have done it by now." He went back to the passenger cabin, followed by the others. He drew his blaster, and turned back to face the others. "Stay here."
"We stick together, remember?" Lucy reminded him.
"Fine," Han said. He opened a secret cabinet near the ramp controls, took out the two blasters that were stowed there, gave one to Brenna, and offered the other to Luke, who shook his head and indicated his lightsaber, which was his preferred weapon. Han shrugged, drew his favorite blaster and holstered the other in its place. Having a spare wouldn’t hurt. Rupert and Lucy unholstered their weapons. Chewie had his bowcaster. Poul took his crystalline knife out of its sheathe. Everyone was armed.
"Luke, take the rear," Han said.
They went down the ramp cautiously. Luke went last, following Threepio and Artoo, staying close to Brenna and keeping her close to the group. He watched for any sign of activity, and found none. They went through the blast doors without incident, and found a corridor beyond.
The corridor was just as empty as the landing bay appeared to be.
Han looked at Luke, who shrugged, then started down the corridor. He was followed by Rupert, then Chewbacca, then Lucy with Poul in tow, then Brenna and Luke.
Luke glanced behind, but neither his eyes nor his other senses gave off a warning that anyone was following, beyond the vague sense of danger that he didn’t need the Force to warn him about.
They came to a Y in the corridor, and the group came to a halt.
"Which way?" Han wondered.
Nobody had an answer, and Luke couldn't get a sense of either Leia's location or one being better than the other, so Han just picked the one on the left.
They hadn't gone far when they heard a dull clang! echo through the empty corridors, and they stopped again.
"What was that?" Han wanted to know.
"I'll go see," Rupert volunteered.
He trotted past the group the way they had come, and returned a few minutes later. "The blast doors are shut again," he announced. "We're cut off from the Falcon."
Lucy let out of stream of air. "Well, I guess there's no turning back now," she said quietly.
"Who's there to shut 'em?" Poul wanted to know.
Artoo found a computer terminal and plugged into it. After a moment, he emitted several electronic beeps.
"Artoo says that the ship is automated, being controlled remotely," Threepio translated.
"You can't automate a ship this size," Han said.
"If it is automated, we've got a better chance at escape," Rupert pointed out. "All we've got to do is take out the command center, or the communications."
"Yeah, and either one could be rigged to blast anyone without the right codes tries to tamper with it," Han replied. "But unless anyone has a better idea…?"
No one did.
"All right," Han said, "Let's see if we can find the control center. Luke, can that 'droid of yours pull up a schematic of this ship?"
"Artoo?" Luke said.
Artoo Detoo interfaced with the terminal again for a few seconds, then whistled.
Threepio translated again. "Artoo says that that information is classified, and is only available with the proper codes. He says that there were no available schematics in the New Republic databanks as of the last time he updated his programming."
"Great," Han muttered. "I don't suppose he could just scan for the control room."
Artoo emitted another series of beeps.
"Artoo says that the corridor is shielded. His scanners can't penetrate the shielding. I'm sorry, Captain Solo. It appears as if Artoo is completely useless in our present predicament."
Artoo whistled a protest.
"Well, it's quite true," Threepio argued. "You haven't given us one byte of useful information since we landed.
Artoo beeped and rocked back and forth on its two legs.
"Really, Artoo, can't you—"
"All right, all right," Han said. "Let's just see what we find." He started leading the group onward again. They came to another Y, and he picked the one on the right, this time. It sounded to him as if the noises from the engines were coming from the left, and therefore the command center was probably in the opposite direction.
The corridors wound in twists and turns. As they continued down them, there were more intersections. Some of them were Y's, some of them were T's, and some of them were X's. Sometimes Han picked the direction based on the sound of the Star Destroyer's engines. Sometimes he just picked it at random. They did a lot of walking, but they never seemed to arrive anywhere.
At one intersection, Han was just about to choose to go straight ahead when Rupert walked up to him, covering his mouth with his hand. "Dad?" he said in a barely audible voice.
"What is it, Son?" Han asked quietly.
"I think we're going around in circles." Rupert drew Han's attention with an eyegaze down to a tiny scratch on the paneling near the connecting way. "I used Poul's knife to make a mark like that at several of the intersections we passed."
Rupert had an uncanny knack for directions. If he thought they were going around in circles, and was making marks to verify their trail, then they had probably been going around in circles for some time.
"All right," Han said quietly, acknowledging Rupert's keener sense of direction. "You lead."
Rupert stood at the intersection a moment, then chose the corridor on the right.
For a while, the engine thrumming seemed to grow more quiet. But as the corridors twisted and snaked, it began to grow louder again.
And then they came to another connecting way, with another T intersection beyond it. Rupert stepped through the connecting way into the area where the corridors joined, and brought the group to a halt when he found another mark. "It's no use," he said. "I'm not getting anywhere, either."
"All right," Han told him. "Go take Luke's place as rear guard. Maybe he can get us out of this maze."
Rupert squeezed past Chewbacca, Lucy and Poul, and the 'droids. Luke had been keeping Brenna close to him throughout the journey through the corridors. "What is it?" he asked Rupert quietly.
"I think we're going around in circles. Dad wants you to lead."
"Stick with Brenna. Shoot anything behind us that moves."
Rupert nodded, and Luke stepped past him over the threshold of the connecting way. Suddenly a solid barrier came crashing down through the connecting way, cutting Brenna and Rupert from the main group, at the base of the Y where they had just come from.
Immediately, Luke’s lightsaber was in his hand and activated, and he sliced at the door, but the energy blade just bounced back and didn't even scorch the metal. “Brenna!” he yelled, not certain of whether she could hear him. “Stay where you are!”
“Let me try,” Han said grimly, pulling his blaster out of his holster. His son was on the other side of that door, too. Luke moved quickly away from the door. “Lucy, Poul—“ Han motioned for them to move further down one of the corridors of the Y. "Everyone, get back!"
"Wait," Luke said. "That could separate us more."
"Fine," Han said. "Everyone, hit the deck."
Luke knelt to one knee next to Han. Chewbacca gently pushed Poul and Lucy to the floor and covered them with his bulk. Threepio groaned a complaint and lay down next to them. Artoo, unable to lie down, was squat enough not to be in danger. Han knelt next to Luke, raised the hand that was holding the blaster, covered his eyes with his other hand, checked to see that everyone was ready, and squeezed off a series of shots without moving his hand or looking at his target, making each successive shot hit the same place. The bolts from the blaster hit the shielding and ricocheted down one of the corridors, flashing over the heads of the group. When Han stopped shooting and peeked through his fingers, there wasn’t even a mark on the door. The others looked up after the sound of the last ricochet died away.
“What now?” Han asked.
Luke shook his head. “We have to find another way around.” He doubted that Etan Lippa would be so careless as to leave an open passageway. But he might have left a section of bulkhead without shielding, if they could find it.
"In this maze?"
"Yeah."
Luke turned to study the juncture where the “Y” had become a “V”. As he did, twin panels dropped from the ceiling, blocking both passages, closing the group into the tiny area, and causing Lucy to gasp in surprise and alarm.
“We’re trapped,” she said.
Poul began to cry.
.
.
.
Rupert and Brenna listened to the attempts to beat down the barrier. When the first sound of blaster fire bouncing against the door came, Rupert grabbed Brenna’s arm and pulled her back and away and down. He needn’t have bothered. None of the bolts penetrated.
“What now?” Rupert asked. His timing was just about the same as father’s in asking that same question on the other side of the door.
As if in answer to his question, what looked like a solid section of wall suddenly lifted, revealing a passageway.
Brenna, doubly annoyed at Rupert for trying to protect her and for being her father’s student, took the opportunity to separate herself from him, even if it was only for a couple of steps.
"Brenna, wait—"
He started to follow, but then the wall came crashing down again between them, separating them absolutely.
"Brenna!" Rupert called.
-----
Chapter Eighteen
Luke jumped down from Han's shoulders, where he'd climbed to test the integrity of the ceiling, after testing every inch of the walls and floor. "Nothing," he announced needlessly. "Not even a chink in the shielding."
"So what do we do now?" Han asked.
Luke drew in a deep breath. "We wait."
"Wait for what?"
"I don't know."
.
.
.
The passageway was dark. Brenna felt the fear clawing its way from her stomach to her throat. She was alone. There was no guarantee she’d ever see her father again, or even Rupert. This was the whole purpose behind bringing them onto the Star Destroyer, to get her alone. She knew it. She remembered the krail pit, and was ashamed. She remembered her father’s ‘attacks,’ and was terrified. Was the same thing now going to happen to her? To her father? To the others?
Further down the passageway, another section of wall lifted. There was a light beyond. She was being directed to go there, she knew, and for that reason, she didn’t want to go. But there was light there, and none where she was.
And what choice did she really have?
Shaking, she made her way towards the brightness of the end of the passageway. She was a prisoner, as surely as if she were manacled. Her captor was invisible, but nonetheless real.
The passageway terminated into a large chamber, what had once been the bridge of the Star Destroyer, now transformed into some kind of theatre. As soon as Brenna had passed through the entrance, the wall came down again, cutting her off from even the dark corridor. Brenna tried lifting the wall, but it wouldn’t budge. There was, of course, no control to re-open the sealed wall.
The bridge had been stripped, and modified. The navigation and com-stations had been removed. In front of the central star-portal, a vid-screen had been set up, and there was a dais with a chair in it up towards the front of the room. Any other access ways, except for the one through which she was now entering, appeared to be sealed off.
Brenna moved to the walls and examined the areas where it appeared other access ways had once been. They, too, were sealed closed.
Not that she expected anything else.
“Hello, Brenna.”
The amplified voice booming around the chamber made her spin around. At the front of the bridge, the screen was glowing to life. It showed the face of someone she’d never met but instantly knew. “Etan Lippa,” she whispered.
The image on the screen belonged to a man about her father’s age, perhaps slightly younger. There was a vague resemblance between him and the images she had seen of Palpatine in her history books. However, whatever disease had distorted and corrupted the Emperor’s features had not yet taken hold of Etan Lippa, and the emperor’s son was still reasonably attractive in appearance.
“I’m glad to see I’m not completely unknown to you. Please, won’t you sit down and make yourself more comfortable?”
An overhead light came on, illuminating the chair on the dais, facing the screen.
Brenna hesitated, glancing back at the closed door. Like a moth, like a krail, she was drawn to the light, but in this case, light and safety were not the same thing.
“Come, you’re perfectly safe. You’re much too precious for me to risk injuring you in any way, despite whatever stories your father may have told you. Your comfort is my sole concern, I assure you.”
Heart pounding, Brenna stepped slowly towards the dais, stepped onto the platform, and carefully eased herself into the chair.
She had half-expected manacles to appear and bind her to the chair, but it was just a very soft, very comfortable chair, and nothing more.
“There, that’s better,” Etan Lippa purred. “Now, can I offer you anything? A sandwich? Something to drink, perhaps?”
A serving ‘droid appeared out of nowhere, laden with platters containing plates full of delicacies or glasses of various shapes and sizes filled with different colored liquids. “If you don’t see something you’d like, just ask. The kitchen and the bar are fully stocked.”
Brenna glanced at the ‘droid, then looked back up at the screen. “No, thank you.”
“Are you sure? The Reeshard squid is excellent.”
“No. Thank you.”
The serving ‘droid rolled away. A panel in the wall opened up and it was swallowed inside. Brenna noted the panel as a possible exit, if she could figure out how to get it open again. On the other hand, it was dark on the other side. Then she turned her attention back to the screen. “Do you offer a last meal to all your victims, or just me?”
Etan Lippa laughed. “I assure you, my dear, you are my guest, not my victim.”
“Like the Jedi Knights were your ‘guests’?”
“No, not like that at all. The Jedi were prisoners of war. I am perfectly serious about your being my guest. Your comfort is of the utmost importance to me. The others in your party are intruders. You are the only one I invited. I merely…tolerate the others for your sake. And for your sake, I will refrain from dealing with them as I ordinarily would.”
“That’s big of you.”
“I thought so. Now, since we are finally alone together—at least on vid-screen—let me have a good look at you.”
Brenna forced herself not to move as a seeker-camera appeared and hovered around her, viewing her from all sides and from all angles, like she was a statue in a gallery.
Or a slave being put up for auction.
“My dear, you are lovely. More lovely than I had hoped. I am now more anxious than ever to meet you in person.”
“Wish I could say the same,” Brenna replied.
The image on the screen laughed. “You are indeed your father’s daughter. But I did not expect that you would come to accept me immediately. I am certain your father has told you stories. Lies, no doubt. However, it may surprise you to know that before too long, you and I will become lovers.”
That last statement did come as a surprise, totally out of the blue as it was. Lovers? She hated him. Everything she learned about him caused her to hate him more. But she tried to keep up her front, and not let her surprise show, like she tried not to let her fear of the dark show. She didn’t want Etan Lippa to see more of her than he already had. “Oh, really?”
“Really. You will come to me. Willingly, I might add. It is our destiny. You may fight it now, but you will not fight it forever.”
“Oh, I dunno. Dad says I can be as stubborn as a limmick when I set my mind to it.”
“You do not yet know me.”
“I know that you’re old enough to be my father.”
“Age matters very little in circumstances like ours. All that matters is that we please each other. I assure you, my dear, you please me very much, and I will do my utmost to please you. Let me show you how much I will appreciate you.”
“I get it,” Brenna said sarcastically. “You show me yours, then I show you mine. No thanks. I’m not interested.”
“My dear, I shall enjoy your wit immensely. No, I was thinking more of a token of my good faith.”
“What, like ‘going steady’ pin?”
The image on the screen leaned forward in his chair. “What is it you want?” Lippa said. “Ask. If it is within my power to give, I will not refuse you.”
“I doubt it.”
“Would you like to test me? Ask. Whatever you want.”
Brenna considered for a moment. “All right,” she said. “I’d like the senators.”
“Such a paltry thing. But if that is your wish, then it is granted.”
“Alive.”
“Alive,” Lippa assured her. “You will find them in hibernation, but alive. The corridors will lead you to them.”
“And I’d like to get out of here safely. All of us, including the senators.”
“Did you think I would harm you? Have you experienced any danger since you boarded my ship? But I will not prevent your departure. The senators are no longer of any value to me. I needed them only to find you. They are a well-intentioned but misguided lot. You may take them with you, if that is your desire. I warn you, though, that anyone who returns here without you, I shall deal with as I see fit. But come, what is it you truly wish?”
Brenna leaned back in her chair, still not trusting Etan Lippa, but feeling a little more comfortable than when she first entered the room. She wondered just what sort of game it was he was playing, and decided to play one of her own. “I’d like the Jedi Knights back. Alive.”
“My dear, if it were within my power, and if it were what you truly wished, I would do it. I can lay the galaxy at your feet, and shall. I can show them to you, but that is all. The Jedi, as I said earlier, were prisoners of war. Unlike your father, I will keep no secrets from you. However, you may not be ready for such a sight. I did…what was necessary to extract certain information. In the end, this information will save lives—many lives! Isn’t it better that a few should suffer so that the masses don’t have to? It requires an adult to understand that. I will show you the Jedi, if you insist, but—“
“I insist,” Brenna said.
“But it is not a sight for the faint-hearted.”
“I insist,” Brenna repeated.
“Very well. I will lead you to what remains of them. But remember that I warned you first. And remember, too, that what I did was necessary, for the good of the many. You see, I will refuse you nothing. But seeing the Jedi Knights is not what you truly desire, is it?”
Brenna regarded the image on the screen. “Since you seem to know so much about me, why don’t you tell me what you think it is I truly desire.”
“You want to learn the ways of the Force.”
Brenna started. Then she leaned forward in her chair, listening.
“I can teach you.”
Brenna felt her heart pounding again. It was what she had truly desired. How had Etan Lippa known that? Then she shook her head. But her words, when she spoke, had a subtle change in tone, as if she were speaking to a confidant rather than to an enemy. “My father would never allow it.”
“Of course he wouldn’t. But as an adult, you can make your own decisions.”
“I haven’t even reached my majority yet.”
“Ah. I see that your father has lied to you in that, as well. And really, my dear, you must learn to overcome this preoccupation you have with age. Aside from the legal definition of ‘adult,’ which status you attained some standard weeks ago, adulthood is merely a state of mind. You can act as an adult, or you can act as a child. The choice is yours.”
Brenna stared at the screen. “You’re saying I’m already of age? My birthday is six months away.”
“And who told you that? Your father?"
Brenna looked away from the screen. Her father had lied to her even about that? Or was Etan Lippa just trying to pull her strings.
Hell, hadn’t her father lied to her on matters far more important than a birthdate?
“Perhaps, my dear, you are not as grown up as I thought. I may need to re-think my offer to show you the remains of the Jedi. It is not something a child would understand. And if you cannot make your own decisions, then you are still a child.”
“I can make my own decisions,” Brenna murmured. She looked back at the screen, lips pressed together firmly. Whatever her birthdate was, it didn’t change her mind about Etan Lippa. “But I can’t make any decisions as a prisoner. If you’re going to let me make my own decisions, then I’d like to return to my group now.”
“Soon, Brenna. I will not keep you here against your will. I will wait for you to come to me. But I ask your indulgence for just a few more minutes. I have a gift for you.”
“Oh, so I do get a going steady pin!”
Etan Lippa laughed. “Not quite. More of a...birthday present.”
The serving ‘droid came out from its wall panel again. This time, it carried a polished silver platter containing a paper envelope.
“Ooooh,” Brenna said. She stood up, took the envelope, what Lippa obviously intended for her to take, and laid it on the chair, then picked up the platter and pretended to be fascinated by her reflection. “I’ve been wanting one of these. I’ve had such a hard time putting my makeup on without one, ever since your troopers destroyed my home.”
“You may find that document of interest, too.” Lippa said in some amusement.
“Oh?” Brenna set the platter aside, opened the envelope, and glanced at the contents. “A love poem?” She refolded the paper and returned it to the envelope, unread.
“In a sense. Your father was once my teacher. Do you know who was his teacher?”
“No,” Brenna said truthfully.
“A non-human named Yoda. He wrote the prophecy that is on that page. I have a couple of other things he wrote, as well, which I will give you in person.. Read that. Then search your feelings for the truth within it. You will come to me, Brenna. You will bear my children. And our progeny will become legend.”
Brenna stared at the screen in disbelief. “I’m not…going to let you—or a piece of paper—dictate my life.”
“Yet you let your father. I am a patient man, Brenna. But I will not wait forever. As for letting me—or a piece of paper—dictate your life, take a look at your life as it is now. Ask yourself if the life you have is truly the life you want. Ask yourself whether you are living your life, or the life your father wants you to live. I think you already know the answer to that. Then ask yourself if what is written on that paper is so awful in comparison.”
The screen went blank. Brenna considered leaving the envelope on the chair, its contents unread, but she knew that Etan Lippa was monitoring every inch of the ship, and wouldn’t let her leave the bridge unless she had read the document in the envelope. Besides, she was curious about what it said. Not that she believed anything that Lippa said. More likely he had twisted something around to suit his own purposes.
She stood up, and didn't move. The right thing to do, of course, was to give the envelope to her father immediately. But then, she’d never know what the paper said. She’d read it first. She might even, as Lippa had suggested, use the Force to check their authenticity. It would only be breaking her promise a little, and she was pretty certain she could do that much without even her father catching her. Not that there was any point in keeping the promise any more, if the sole purpose was to prevent Etan Lippa from finding her. He had already found her. And…he was letting her go.
Was he letting her go? For an instant, she panicked in the worry that he wouldn’t. But then there was a click and a whoosh! And the door that had led Brenna to the bridge opened again, and Rupert rushed in. The door closed behind Rupert.
“Brenna! Are you all right?”
“Fine,” she replied, a little annoyed at his apparent attitude that she needed a man to protect her, and forgetting her fear of just a second ago. She could take care of herself. She stuffed the envelope into an interior pocket of the jacket she was wearing, borrowed from Lucy.
“What’s that?” Rupert asked.
“Nothing,” Brenna said.
“What happened to you?”
She looked at him. “Nothing. Shall we go?”
“Go where?”
As if in answer, a different door leading off the bridge opened up.
“There,” Brenna said.
.
.
.
They had all long since seated themselves on the hard metal floor, to wait. Wait for what, they didn’t know. Maybe to die of thirst. Who knew what Etan Lippa had in mind?
They waited because there was nothing else to do.
Han had finally managed to get Poul's crying calmed to quiet sniffles when they heard a dull clang!
Lucy rose to her feet instantly. “What was that?”
Han shrugged. There was no way of knowing. But whatever it was, he had the feeling their wait was about to be over.
There was silence again. Lucy had just started to slide back down the wall to a sitting position again, when one of the “Y” doors lifted.
Han handed Poul to Luke, who was already on his feet, then accepted a hand up from Lucy. He reached over to retrieve Poul, who was really too old to be carried, but this was an unusual circumstance.
“Do we go?” Lucy asked, eyeing the door dubiously.
Han shrugged and shifted Poul’s weight. “No use staying.”
“Wait a minute,” Luke said, looking down the dark hallway and holding his palm out behind him to keep the others back. He stepped through the doorway, stopped, and waited for a moment, but nothing happened.
He dropped his hand. “Never mind. Come on.”
Lucy crossed through the threshold apprehensively, looking up as if she thought the door would come crashing down on top of her. Han, carrying Poul, was last.
“What was that about?” Han asked Luke quietly.
“Nothing, really,” Luke replied. “I just thought if Lippa wanted to get me alone, to cut me off from the rest of you, it would be safer for you if I just let him do it.”
“Apparently he doesn’t want to cut you off, then,” Han said.
“Apparently not.”
“Now what?” Han asked, looking ahead at the end of the passageway, which was closed off.
Further down the corridor, another doorway opened up.
“There’s your answer,” Luke said.
.
.
.
Rupert followed Brenna somewhat nervously. He didn’t like the idea of being led through a maze like rats in an experiment, but Brenna seemed unworried. Whenever there was a hesitation in a door opening, she tapped her foot or let out an impatient sigh until the next one lifted.
Finally, they seemed to arrive at a dead-end. They stood there for some seconds, and still the next door did not open. The seconds became a minute. “You’re slowing down!” Brenna yelled up to the ceiling.
Then the door slid open, slowly, indicating that this door was leading somewhere different. When it slid open enough to where they could see inside, it revealed an enormous chamber, filled with human-size tanks. Each tank was made of clear plexi-steel, and filled with a blue-ish liquid. And submerged inside each was a naked body, either a man’s or a woman’s, twisted into a grotesque position, each mouth open in a permanent silent scream.
When Rupert could finally speak, his voice was barely a whisper and was filled with fear and horror. “What in Hell is that?”
Brenna’s answering voice was in a normal volume, and with neither fear nor horror. “The missing Jedi Knights,” she said.
.
.
.
The door was still open when Luke, Han, and the others arrived. Han had set Poul down on his own two feet some time earlier.
Han stared in horror for a second, then turned Poul’s head into his side and shielded the boy’s eyes with his body.
“Sweet Deities!” Lucy said.
"Wahrrraaanggh!" Chewbacca exclaimed.
“I don’t want to go in there, either,” Han replied. “But we don’t exactly have a choice.”
They went in slowly, Han sheltering his youngest son from the morbid sights in the tanks, with help from Chewbacca whose bulk blocked what Han could not. Artoo whistled softly. Threepio, whose protocol data banks contained no information on proper etiquette for a situation like this, was silent except for the sound of his servo-joints as they moved.
“It’s like…a museum,” Han said grimly, staring briefly at each body.
“No,” Luke corrected, equally grim. “It’s a trophy room.”
“Mom!” Lucy said suddenly. “Mom could be in here!”
Before Luke could reassure her that she wasn't, Lucy began running to each tank containing a female body to look at the contorted face submerged in the blue liquid. It was the sense of unreality that gave strength to her purpose. Luke couldn’t look. He was trying to look past the bodies, the remains of his friends, to find the exit. If he looked, he knew he would display something that he didn’t want Etan Lippa to see. He wanted to pay tribute to each of his friends, but not if it meant paying tribute to Lippa, as well. He couldn’t help seeing the bodies, but he kept his eyes from their faces, from identifying each victim.
Poul tried to turn his head to look, but Han kept him firmly turned away and covered.
A voice that Han was very relieved to hear replied, “Mom's not here,” and Rupert stepped out from behind a line of tanks. “I already looked.”
Lucy breathed a sigh of relief, and Han murmured something encouraging to his youngest son.
“Brenna?” Luke asked, blue eyes piercing into the younger man. “Is she here with you?”
“Right here.” Brenna came out from a different row of tanks. Unlike her father, she had taken a good long look into each tank. The faces were strangers to her, like anonymous castings in a wax museum.
“Bren!” Luke practically shouted in relief. He ran up to her, but she moved away before he could hug her.
Han looked up at his eldest son. “Did you find Wedge?”
“Back there,” Rupert replied, nodding with his head down a row of tanks. Han transferred Poul to Chewbacca, but Rupert stopped his father by the arm before he could leave. “Trust me, Dad, you don’t want to see.”
Han saw the expression in Rupert’s eyes, and decided that the boy was right. He nodded.
“There’s one empty tank, too, right in the center.”
Luke had been avoiding looking into the tanks, but he suddenly realized that he had to. There was one thing he had to do, after all. Now that he knew Brenna was safe—at least for the moment—there was someone he had to find. He held up a staying hand. “Han, keep the kids here. That includes you, Bren.”
“I’ve already seen everything,” she pointed out.
“Just stay here!” Luke said, a raw edge to his voice.
“Where you going?” Han asked.
Luke fought to get his voice back under control. “Leia may not be here, but—” He had to swallow to steady his voice before he could go on. “But Briande might be. I have to know...”
When Luke returned, his eyes were red, but his voice was steady. “She’s not here.”
Brenna looked at the group. “Anyone else?” she asked. No one answered. She looked up at the ceiling and raised her voice. “I’d like the senators now, please.”
Luke, Han, and Lucy stared at her, wondering just what, exactly, had happened during their separation. But by now, Rupert was almost expecting it.
As if responding to her verbal command, a door opened at the far end of the row where Rupert had indicated Corran was, and all eyes turned to look at the open door. Only Luke’s gaze returned to Brenna.
She met her father’s eyes without flinching. “Do you want to stay here, or not?” she asked, and moved to the door without waiting for a response.
They had to go by the empty tank to get to the door. They also had to go by Wedge. Lucy was horrified when she saw him. “We can’t just leave him here!” she protested.
“There’s nothing we can do for him,” her father said, as much to himself as to Lucy. But his voice had cracked as he said it.
Despite himself, Luke felt the lump choke his throat and tears clogging his eyes again. He hurried past the tank before anyone could see, wiped his eyes, and got himself back under control.
Once out of the trophy room, Brenna took the lead, and set a power-walk pace that the others were hard-put to keep up with. When Poul couldn’t keep up, Chewbacca picked him up to carry him. Han hung back to talk with Luke, who was in the rear.
“You okay?” Han asked Luke.
“I will be,” Luke replied.
“You look like Hell.”
“They were my friends, Han. Some of what they happened to them, I also felt. But that was nothing, compared to what they must have gone through.”
“Deities, Luke. I’m sorry...”
“Yeah, me too... I just want to make sure the same thing doesn’t happen to Brenna.”
“Or Rupert,” Han added grimly.
Luke looked at him, understanding, but unable to promise anything. Then he hurried to catch up with Brenna. “Do you know where we’re going?” he asked his daughter.
“Specifically? No.”
“In general, then.”
“In general, we’re going to rescue the senators.”
“Etan Lippa is just going to let us?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She looked up at him. “Because I asked him.”
That made no sense to Luke. “He’s going to let us rescue the senators just because you asked him?”
“He asked me what I wanted, and I told him I wanted the senators.” She glanced at her father. “Don’t worry. They’re alive, but in hibernation. Not like your friends back there.”
“Why did he offer you the senators? There must have been a reason.”
“He said he didn’t need them any more.” She didn’t add what Lippa had told her about his reason for kidnapping them, to get Brenna here to his Star Destroyer.
“Did you make some sort of deal with him?”
Brenna stopped short and looked at him, causing Lucy to plow into her. Ignoring Lucy’s murmured apologies, Brenna said, “Are you accusing me of something? Because if you are, I’d like to know what it is. Just come out and say it.”
Luke hoped her anger was an after-effect of the gruesome trophy room, and not of something else. He kept his voice level. “No, I’m not accusing you of anything. I’d just like to know what happened, to make sure you’re all right.”
“I’m fine,” she said shortly, and resumed her swift walking pace down the corridor.
Luke caught up with her. “Sweetheart, I’m just concerned about you. I want to know what happened. Did he threaten you? Do anything to you? Say something to upset you?”
“He didn’t threaten me, or ‘do’ anything to me. In fact, he was very gracious.”
Luke stared at her for a few paces. Etan Lippa, gracious? “Brenna, don’t trust him. I’m not sure what his motives are for letting us live this long, but you saw what he did to the Jedi.”
“I saw,” Brenna replied. “But you’re not exactly the best person to be talking to me about ‘trust.’”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing.”
“What did he tell you about me?”
“Nothing I didn’t already know.” She stopped again. This time, Lucy managed to keep from running into her again. “Are you going to keep giving me the third degree? Or can we just get your damn senators and get the Hell out of here?”
.
.
.
On another ship, a few parsecs away, Etan Lippa smiled to himself as he watched his screen. It was going well. Father and daughter were already arguing, and he hadn’t done anything at all to encourage it. Well, hardly anything. And although Brenna wasn’t converted yet by any means, she was beginning to see Lippa as something other than what her father had described to her, and to see her father as unworthy of her trust.
Yes, things were starting to develop nicely. It was even worth letting those miserable senators go.
After they left, he’d jump the star destroyer into hyperspace, bring it to his location, and take another stroll through his trophies. It would be that much more enjoyable, knowing that Brenna had walked there. Knowing that her father had walked there. Knowing that he had seen the empty tank waiting there, just for him.
But what Skywalker didn’t know was that Etan Lippa was reserving the pleasure of putting Skywalker into the tank to his daughter. It would be that much more delicious for Brenna to put him there herself.
The fool hadn’t even the slightest inkling of the prophecy concerning Brenna’s destiny. Without knowing it, the Jedi was even helping it along. Everything he did drove Brenna further away from him, and that much closer to Etan Lippa.
Luke jumped down from Han's shoulders, where he'd climbed to test the integrity of the ceiling, after testing every inch of the walls and floor. "Nothing," he announced needlessly. "Not even a chink in the shielding."
"So what do we do now?" Han asked.
Luke drew in a deep breath. "We wait."
"Wait for what?"
"I don't know."
.
.
.
The passageway was dark. Brenna felt the fear clawing its way from her stomach to her throat. She was alone. There was no guarantee she’d ever see her father again, or even Rupert. This was the whole purpose behind bringing them onto the Star Destroyer, to get her alone. She knew it. She remembered the krail pit, and was ashamed. She remembered her father’s ‘attacks,’ and was terrified. Was the same thing now going to happen to her? To her father? To the others?
Further down the passageway, another section of wall lifted. There was a light beyond. She was being directed to go there, she knew, and for that reason, she didn’t want to go. But there was light there, and none where she was.
And what choice did she really have?
Shaking, she made her way towards the brightness of the end of the passageway. She was a prisoner, as surely as if she were manacled. Her captor was invisible, but nonetheless real.
The passageway terminated into a large chamber, what had once been the bridge of the Star Destroyer, now transformed into some kind of theatre. As soon as Brenna had passed through the entrance, the wall came down again, cutting her off from even the dark corridor. Brenna tried lifting the wall, but it wouldn’t budge. There was, of course, no control to re-open the sealed wall.
The bridge had been stripped, and modified. The navigation and com-stations had been removed. In front of the central star-portal, a vid-screen had been set up, and there was a dais with a chair in it up towards the front of the room. Any other access ways, except for the one through which she was now entering, appeared to be sealed off.
Brenna moved to the walls and examined the areas where it appeared other access ways had once been. They, too, were sealed closed.
Not that she expected anything else.
“Hello, Brenna.”
The amplified voice booming around the chamber made her spin around. At the front of the bridge, the screen was glowing to life. It showed the face of someone she’d never met but instantly knew. “Etan Lippa,” she whispered.
The image on the screen belonged to a man about her father’s age, perhaps slightly younger. There was a vague resemblance between him and the images she had seen of Palpatine in her history books. However, whatever disease had distorted and corrupted the Emperor’s features had not yet taken hold of Etan Lippa, and the emperor’s son was still reasonably attractive in appearance.
“I’m glad to see I’m not completely unknown to you. Please, won’t you sit down and make yourself more comfortable?”
An overhead light came on, illuminating the chair on the dais, facing the screen.
Brenna hesitated, glancing back at the closed door. Like a moth, like a krail, she was drawn to the light, but in this case, light and safety were not the same thing.
“Come, you’re perfectly safe. You’re much too precious for me to risk injuring you in any way, despite whatever stories your father may have told you. Your comfort is my sole concern, I assure you.”
Heart pounding, Brenna stepped slowly towards the dais, stepped onto the platform, and carefully eased herself into the chair.
She had half-expected manacles to appear and bind her to the chair, but it was just a very soft, very comfortable chair, and nothing more.
“There, that’s better,” Etan Lippa purred. “Now, can I offer you anything? A sandwich? Something to drink, perhaps?”
A serving ‘droid appeared out of nowhere, laden with platters containing plates full of delicacies or glasses of various shapes and sizes filled with different colored liquids. “If you don’t see something you’d like, just ask. The kitchen and the bar are fully stocked.”
Brenna glanced at the ‘droid, then looked back up at the screen. “No, thank you.”
“Are you sure? The Reeshard squid is excellent.”
“No. Thank you.”
The serving ‘droid rolled away. A panel in the wall opened up and it was swallowed inside. Brenna noted the panel as a possible exit, if she could figure out how to get it open again. On the other hand, it was dark on the other side. Then she turned her attention back to the screen. “Do you offer a last meal to all your victims, or just me?”
Etan Lippa laughed. “I assure you, my dear, you are my guest, not my victim.”
“Like the Jedi Knights were your ‘guests’?”
“No, not like that at all. The Jedi were prisoners of war. I am perfectly serious about your being my guest. Your comfort is of the utmost importance to me. The others in your party are intruders. You are the only one I invited. I merely…tolerate the others for your sake. And for your sake, I will refrain from dealing with them as I ordinarily would.”
“That’s big of you.”
“I thought so. Now, since we are finally alone together—at least on vid-screen—let me have a good look at you.”
Brenna forced herself not to move as a seeker-camera appeared and hovered around her, viewing her from all sides and from all angles, like she was a statue in a gallery.
Or a slave being put up for auction.
“My dear, you are lovely. More lovely than I had hoped. I am now more anxious than ever to meet you in person.”
“Wish I could say the same,” Brenna replied.
The image on the screen laughed. “You are indeed your father’s daughter. But I did not expect that you would come to accept me immediately. I am certain your father has told you stories. Lies, no doubt. However, it may surprise you to know that before too long, you and I will become lovers.”
That last statement did come as a surprise, totally out of the blue as it was. Lovers? She hated him. Everything she learned about him caused her to hate him more. But she tried to keep up her front, and not let her surprise show, like she tried not to let her fear of the dark show. She didn’t want Etan Lippa to see more of her than he already had. “Oh, really?”
“Really. You will come to me. Willingly, I might add. It is our destiny. You may fight it now, but you will not fight it forever.”
“Oh, I dunno. Dad says I can be as stubborn as a limmick when I set my mind to it.”
“You do not yet know me.”
“I know that you’re old enough to be my father.”
“Age matters very little in circumstances like ours. All that matters is that we please each other. I assure you, my dear, you please me very much, and I will do my utmost to please you. Let me show you how much I will appreciate you.”
“I get it,” Brenna said sarcastically. “You show me yours, then I show you mine. No thanks. I’m not interested.”
“My dear, I shall enjoy your wit immensely. No, I was thinking more of a token of my good faith.”
“What, like ‘going steady’ pin?”
The image on the screen leaned forward in his chair. “What is it you want?” Lippa said. “Ask. If it is within my power to give, I will not refuse you.”
“I doubt it.”
“Would you like to test me? Ask. Whatever you want.”
Brenna considered for a moment. “All right,” she said. “I’d like the senators.”
“Such a paltry thing. But if that is your wish, then it is granted.”
“Alive.”
“Alive,” Lippa assured her. “You will find them in hibernation, but alive. The corridors will lead you to them.”
“And I’d like to get out of here safely. All of us, including the senators.”
“Did you think I would harm you? Have you experienced any danger since you boarded my ship? But I will not prevent your departure. The senators are no longer of any value to me. I needed them only to find you. They are a well-intentioned but misguided lot. You may take them with you, if that is your desire. I warn you, though, that anyone who returns here without you, I shall deal with as I see fit. But come, what is it you truly wish?”
Brenna leaned back in her chair, still not trusting Etan Lippa, but feeling a little more comfortable than when she first entered the room. She wondered just what sort of game it was he was playing, and decided to play one of her own. “I’d like the Jedi Knights back. Alive.”
“My dear, if it were within my power, and if it were what you truly wished, I would do it. I can lay the galaxy at your feet, and shall. I can show them to you, but that is all. The Jedi, as I said earlier, were prisoners of war. Unlike your father, I will keep no secrets from you. However, you may not be ready for such a sight. I did…what was necessary to extract certain information. In the end, this information will save lives—many lives! Isn’t it better that a few should suffer so that the masses don’t have to? It requires an adult to understand that. I will show you the Jedi, if you insist, but—“
“I insist,” Brenna said.
“But it is not a sight for the faint-hearted.”
“I insist,” Brenna repeated.
“Very well. I will lead you to what remains of them. But remember that I warned you first. And remember, too, that what I did was necessary, for the good of the many. You see, I will refuse you nothing. But seeing the Jedi Knights is not what you truly desire, is it?”
Brenna regarded the image on the screen. “Since you seem to know so much about me, why don’t you tell me what you think it is I truly desire.”
“You want to learn the ways of the Force.”
Brenna started. Then she leaned forward in her chair, listening.
“I can teach you.”
Brenna felt her heart pounding again. It was what she had truly desired. How had Etan Lippa known that? Then she shook her head. But her words, when she spoke, had a subtle change in tone, as if she were speaking to a confidant rather than to an enemy. “My father would never allow it.”
“Of course he wouldn’t. But as an adult, you can make your own decisions.”
“I haven’t even reached my majority yet.”
“Ah. I see that your father has lied to you in that, as well. And really, my dear, you must learn to overcome this preoccupation you have with age. Aside from the legal definition of ‘adult,’ which status you attained some standard weeks ago, adulthood is merely a state of mind. You can act as an adult, or you can act as a child. The choice is yours.”
Brenna stared at the screen. “You’re saying I’m already of age? My birthday is six months away.”
“And who told you that? Your father?"
Brenna looked away from the screen. Her father had lied to her even about that? Or was Etan Lippa just trying to pull her strings.
Hell, hadn’t her father lied to her on matters far more important than a birthdate?
“Perhaps, my dear, you are not as grown up as I thought. I may need to re-think my offer to show you the remains of the Jedi. It is not something a child would understand. And if you cannot make your own decisions, then you are still a child.”
“I can make my own decisions,” Brenna murmured. She looked back at the screen, lips pressed together firmly. Whatever her birthdate was, it didn’t change her mind about Etan Lippa. “But I can’t make any decisions as a prisoner. If you’re going to let me make my own decisions, then I’d like to return to my group now.”
“Soon, Brenna. I will not keep you here against your will. I will wait for you to come to me. But I ask your indulgence for just a few more minutes. I have a gift for you.”
“Oh, so I do get a going steady pin!”
Etan Lippa laughed. “Not quite. More of a...birthday present.”
The serving ‘droid came out from its wall panel again. This time, it carried a polished silver platter containing a paper envelope.
“Ooooh,” Brenna said. She stood up, took the envelope, what Lippa obviously intended for her to take, and laid it on the chair, then picked up the platter and pretended to be fascinated by her reflection. “I’ve been wanting one of these. I’ve had such a hard time putting my makeup on without one, ever since your troopers destroyed my home.”
“You may find that document of interest, too.” Lippa said in some amusement.
“Oh?” Brenna set the platter aside, opened the envelope, and glanced at the contents. “A love poem?” She refolded the paper and returned it to the envelope, unread.
“In a sense. Your father was once my teacher. Do you know who was his teacher?”
“No,” Brenna said truthfully.
“A non-human named Yoda. He wrote the prophecy that is on that page. I have a couple of other things he wrote, as well, which I will give you in person.. Read that. Then search your feelings for the truth within it. You will come to me, Brenna. You will bear my children. And our progeny will become legend.”
Brenna stared at the screen in disbelief. “I’m not…going to let you—or a piece of paper—dictate my life.”
“Yet you let your father. I am a patient man, Brenna. But I will not wait forever. As for letting me—or a piece of paper—dictate your life, take a look at your life as it is now. Ask yourself if the life you have is truly the life you want. Ask yourself whether you are living your life, or the life your father wants you to live. I think you already know the answer to that. Then ask yourself if what is written on that paper is so awful in comparison.”
The screen went blank. Brenna considered leaving the envelope on the chair, its contents unread, but she knew that Etan Lippa was monitoring every inch of the ship, and wouldn’t let her leave the bridge unless she had read the document in the envelope. Besides, she was curious about what it said. Not that she believed anything that Lippa said. More likely he had twisted something around to suit his own purposes.
She stood up, and didn't move. The right thing to do, of course, was to give the envelope to her father immediately. But then, she’d never know what the paper said. She’d read it first. She might even, as Lippa had suggested, use the Force to check their authenticity. It would only be breaking her promise a little, and she was pretty certain she could do that much without even her father catching her. Not that there was any point in keeping the promise any more, if the sole purpose was to prevent Etan Lippa from finding her. He had already found her. And…he was letting her go.
Was he letting her go? For an instant, she panicked in the worry that he wouldn’t. But then there was a click and a whoosh! And the door that had led Brenna to the bridge opened again, and Rupert rushed in. The door closed behind Rupert.
“Brenna! Are you all right?”
“Fine,” she replied, a little annoyed at his apparent attitude that she needed a man to protect her, and forgetting her fear of just a second ago. She could take care of herself. She stuffed the envelope into an interior pocket of the jacket she was wearing, borrowed from Lucy.
“What’s that?” Rupert asked.
“Nothing,” Brenna said.
“What happened to you?”
She looked at him. “Nothing. Shall we go?”
“Go where?”
As if in answer, a different door leading off the bridge opened up.
“There,” Brenna said.
.
.
.
They had all long since seated themselves on the hard metal floor, to wait. Wait for what, they didn’t know. Maybe to die of thirst. Who knew what Etan Lippa had in mind?
They waited because there was nothing else to do.
Han had finally managed to get Poul's crying calmed to quiet sniffles when they heard a dull clang!
Lucy rose to her feet instantly. “What was that?”
Han shrugged. There was no way of knowing. But whatever it was, he had the feeling their wait was about to be over.
There was silence again. Lucy had just started to slide back down the wall to a sitting position again, when one of the “Y” doors lifted.
Han handed Poul to Luke, who was already on his feet, then accepted a hand up from Lucy. He reached over to retrieve Poul, who was really too old to be carried, but this was an unusual circumstance.
“Do we go?” Lucy asked, eyeing the door dubiously.
Han shrugged and shifted Poul’s weight. “No use staying.”
“Wait a minute,” Luke said, looking down the dark hallway and holding his palm out behind him to keep the others back. He stepped through the doorway, stopped, and waited for a moment, but nothing happened.
He dropped his hand. “Never mind. Come on.”
Lucy crossed through the threshold apprehensively, looking up as if she thought the door would come crashing down on top of her. Han, carrying Poul, was last.
“What was that about?” Han asked Luke quietly.
“Nothing, really,” Luke replied. “I just thought if Lippa wanted to get me alone, to cut me off from the rest of you, it would be safer for you if I just let him do it.”
“Apparently he doesn’t want to cut you off, then,” Han said.
“Apparently not.”
“Now what?” Han asked, looking ahead at the end of the passageway, which was closed off.
Further down the corridor, another doorway opened up.
“There’s your answer,” Luke said.
.
.
.
Rupert followed Brenna somewhat nervously. He didn’t like the idea of being led through a maze like rats in an experiment, but Brenna seemed unworried. Whenever there was a hesitation in a door opening, she tapped her foot or let out an impatient sigh until the next one lifted.
Finally, they seemed to arrive at a dead-end. They stood there for some seconds, and still the next door did not open. The seconds became a minute. “You’re slowing down!” Brenna yelled up to the ceiling.
Then the door slid open, slowly, indicating that this door was leading somewhere different. When it slid open enough to where they could see inside, it revealed an enormous chamber, filled with human-size tanks. Each tank was made of clear plexi-steel, and filled with a blue-ish liquid. And submerged inside each was a naked body, either a man’s or a woman’s, twisted into a grotesque position, each mouth open in a permanent silent scream.
When Rupert could finally speak, his voice was barely a whisper and was filled with fear and horror. “What in Hell is that?”
Brenna’s answering voice was in a normal volume, and with neither fear nor horror. “The missing Jedi Knights,” she said.
.
.
.
The door was still open when Luke, Han, and the others arrived. Han had set Poul down on his own two feet some time earlier.
Han stared in horror for a second, then turned Poul’s head into his side and shielded the boy’s eyes with his body.
“Sweet Deities!” Lucy said.
"Wahrrraaanggh!" Chewbacca exclaimed.
“I don’t want to go in there, either,” Han replied. “But we don’t exactly have a choice.”
They went in slowly, Han sheltering his youngest son from the morbid sights in the tanks, with help from Chewbacca whose bulk blocked what Han could not. Artoo whistled softly. Threepio, whose protocol data banks contained no information on proper etiquette for a situation like this, was silent except for the sound of his servo-joints as they moved.
“It’s like…a museum,” Han said grimly, staring briefly at each body.
“No,” Luke corrected, equally grim. “It’s a trophy room.”
“Mom!” Lucy said suddenly. “Mom could be in here!”
Before Luke could reassure her that she wasn't, Lucy began running to each tank containing a female body to look at the contorted face submerged in the blue liquid. It was the sense of unreality that gave strength to her purpose. Luke couldn’t look. He was trying to look past the bodies, the remains of his friends, to find the exit. If he looked, he knew he would display something that he didn’t want Etan Lippa to see. He wanted to pay tribute to each of his friends, but not if it meant paying tribute to Lippa, as well. He couldn’t help seeing the bodies, but he kept his eyes from their faces, from identifying each victim.
Poul tried to turn his head to look, but Han kept him firmly turned away and covered.
A voice that Han was very relieved to hear replied, “Mom's not here,” and Rupert stepped out from behind a line of tanks. “I already looked.”
Lucy breathed a sigh of relief, and Han murmured something encouraging to his youngest son.
“Brenna?” Luke asked, blue eyes piercing into the younger man. “Is she here with you?”
“Right here.” Brenna came out from a different row of tanks. Unlike her father, she had taken a good long look into each tank. The faces were strangers to her, like anonymous castings in a wax museum.
“Bren!” Luke practically shouted in relief. He ran up to her, but she moved away before he could hug her.
Han looked up at his eldest son. “Did you find Wedge?”
“Back there,” Rupert replied, nodding with his head down a row of tanks. Han transferred Poul to Chewbacca, but Rupert stopped his father by the arm before he could leave. “Trust me, Dad, you don’t want to see.”
Han saw the expression in Rupert’s eyes, and decided that the boy was right. He nodded.
“There’s one empty tank, too, right in the center.”
Luke had been avoiding looking into the tanks, but he suddenly realized that he had to. There was one thing he had to do, after all. Now that he knew Brenna was safe—at least for the moment—there was someone he had to find. He held up a staying hand. “Han, keep the kids here. That includes you, Bren.”
“I’ve already seen everything,” she pointed out.
“Just stay here!” Luke said, a raw edge to his voice.
“Where you going?” Han asked.
Luke fought to get his voice back under control. “Leia may not be here, but—” He had to swallow to steady his voice before he could go on. “But Briande might be. I have to know...”
When Luke returned, his eyes were red, but his voice was steady. “She’s not here.”
Brenna looked at the group. “Anyone else?” she asked. No one answered. She looked up at the ceiling and raised her voice. “I’d like the senators now, please.”
Luke, Han, and Lucy stared at her, wondering just what, exactly, had happened during their separation. But by now, Rupert was almost expecting it.
As if responding to her verbal command, a door opened at the far end of the row where Rupert had indicated Corran was, and all eyes turned to look at the open door. Only Luke’s gaze returned to Brenna.
She met her father’s eyes without flinching. “Do you want to stay here, or not?” she asked, and moved to the door without waiting for a response.
They had to go by the empty tank to get to the door. They also had to go by Wedge. Lucy was horrified when she saw him. “We can’t just leave him here!” she protested.
“There’s nothing we can do for him,” her father said, as much to himself as to Lucy. But his voice had cracked as he said it.
Despite himself, Luke felt the lump choke his throat and tears clogging his eyes again. He hurried past the tank before anyone could see, wiped his eyes, and got himself back under control.
Once out of the trophy room, Brenna took the lead, and set a power-walk pace that the others were hard-put to keep up with. When Poul couldn’t keep up, Chewbacca picked him up to carry him. Han hung back to talk with Luke, who was in the rear.
“You okay?” Han asked Luke.
“I will be,” Luke replied.
“You look like Hell.”
“They were my friends, Han. Some of what they happened to them, I also felt. But that was nothing, compared to what they must have gone through.”
“Deities, Luke. I’m sorry...”
“Yeah, me too... I just want to make sure the same thing doesn’t happen to Brenna.”
“Or Rupert,” Han added grimly.
Luke looked at him, understanding, but unable to promise anything. Then he hurried to catch up with Brenna. “Do you know where we’re going?” he asked his daughter.
“Specifically? No.”
“In general, then.”
“In general, we’re going to rescue the senators.”
“Etan Lippa is just going to let us?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She looked up at him. “Because I asked him.”
That made no sense to Luke. “He’s going to let us rescue the senators just because you asked him?”
“He asked me what I wanted, and I told him I wanted the senators.” She glanced at her father. “Don’t worry. They’re alive, but in hibernation. Not like your friends back there.”
“Why did he offer you the senators? There must have been a reason.”
“He said he didn’t need them any more.” She didn’t add what Lippa had told her about his reason for kidnapping them, to get Brenna here to his Star Destroyer.
“Did you make some sort of deal with him?”
Brenna stopped short and looked at him, causing Lucy to plow into her. Ignoring Lucy’s murmured apologies, Brenna said, “Are you accusing me of something? Because if you are, I’d like to know what it is. Just come out and say it.”
Luke hoped her anger was an after-effect of the gruesome trophy room, and not of something else. He kept his voice level. “No, I’m not accusing you of anything. I’d just like to know what happened, to make sure you’re all right.”
“I’m fine,” she said shortly, and resumed her swift walking pace down the corridor.
Luke caught up with her. “Sweetheart, I’m just concerned about you. I want to know what happened. Did he threaten you? Do anything to you? Say something to upset you?”
“He didn’t threaten me, or ‘do’ anything to me. In fact, he was very gracious.”
Luke stared at her for a few paces. Etan Lippa, gracious? “Brenna, don’t trust him. I’m not sure what his motives are for letting us live this long, but you saw what he did to the Jedi.”
“I saw,” Brenna replied. “But you’re not exactly the best person to be talking to me about ‘trust.’”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing.”
“What did he tell you about me?”
“Nothing I didn’t already know.” She stopped again. This time, Lucy managed to keep from running into her again. “Are you going to keep giving me the third degree? Or can we just get your damn senators and get the Hell out of here?”
.
.
.
On another ship, a few parsecs away, Etan Lippa smiled to himself as he watched his screen. It was going well. Father and daughter were already arguing, and he hadn’t done anything at all to encourage it. Well, hardly anything. And although Brenna wasn’t converted yet by any means, she was beginning to see Lippa as something other than what her father had described to her, and to see her father as unworthy of her trust.
Yes, things were starting to develop nicely. It was even worth letting those miserable senators go.
After they left, he’d jump the star destroyer into hyperspace, bring it to his location, and take another stroll through his trophies. It would be that much more enjoyable, knowing that Brenna had walked there. Knowing that her father had walked there. Knowing that he had seen the empty tank waiting there, just for him.
But what Skywalker didn’t know was that Etan Lippa was reserving the pleasure of putting Skywalker into the tank to his daughter. It would be that much more delicious for Brenna to put him there herself.
The fool hadn’t even the slightest inkling of the prophecy concerning Brenna’s destiny. Without knowing it, the Jedi was even helping it along. Everything he did drove Brenna further away from him, and that much closer to Etan Lippa.
-----
Chapter Nineteen
Apparently Etan Lippa had a flair for the dramatic.
Brenna knew they had come to the senators when the door was slow to open, like the one to the trophy room had been.
They weren’t preserved in carbonite, but they were on display, as much of a display as the Jedi Knights had been, but not nearly so gruesome. Each senator was enclosed in a clear tube, still clothed in whatever day wear or evening wear he/she happened to have been wearing at the time of the kidnapping. They were all standing, eyes closed, hands down at their sides, not moving, not even breathing. Some of them were human. Some were species Brenna had only seen on computer images in school.
There were two rows of them, lining each side of the long side of the room. Lucy went running between them, head rotating from side to side, followed closely by Rupert. Han shoved Poul at Chewbacca and went after them. “Careful!” Han yelled. “Don’t touch anything!”
Lucy found what she was looking for at the far end of the room. “Mom!” she cried.
“Don’t touch anything!” Han repeated.
Lucy stopped just short of putting her hands on the case. Rupert stopped right behind her. Poul squirmed in Chewbacca's arms, unable to escape, screaming, “I want to see Mom!”
Brenna watched from just inside the door. She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the wall. Now that she had gotten the group here, she seemed bored by the rest. Luke glanced at her, then went to catch up with the others.
Han parted his way through Lucy and Rupert, and studied the encasement around Leia. He walked all around the tube twice, squatted down to study the base, looked up to study the top. “How do we get her out of there?” he murmured. “There aren’t any controls.”
“Take the casing back with us?” Rupert suggested.
“But what about the others?” Lucy wanted to know. “We can’t just leave them here.”
Han shook his head. “It may be too dangerous to move any of them or do anything without knowing what the Hell we’re doing. Luke? Any ideas?”
Luke peered inside the tube at the mechanisms at the top. “They’re remote operated. We’d have to find the control center.”
From her place by the door, Brenna sighed. Then she looked towards the ceiling and raised her voice. “I’d like them thawed out, please!” she called.
A second later, there was faint hum, and the tubes began to glow with orange light. A green liquid began to flow through narrow lines leading from the tops of the tubes to intravenous lines attached to the senators’ necks. Han watched Leia, for any sign of life. In a few seconds, there was a faint fog on the inside of the tube near her nose and mouth. It disappeared, only to be replaced by another faint fog a couple seconds later. As more seconds ticked by, the fogging became denser and more frequent, and Han could detect movement in her chest. Then all at once, her knees gave out, and she collapsed inside the limited space of the tube, and began to shiver and hug herself.
Han remembered what it was like to come out of hibernation. She was freezing. He cupped his hands against the tube. “Leia!” he shouted.
Her eyes opened. “Han?” Her voice was muffled through the tube. She blinked, shivering and unseeing. “Ha-Han! Are you here?”
“Right here, Sweetheart! Just hold on! We’ll get you out of there!”
The tubes lifted then, retracting into the ceiling, and Leia and a couple dozen other senators spilled out of them onto the floor. Leia was caught by four pairs of hands. The others weren’t so lucky.
“Leia!” Han’s jacket was off him in an instant, and covering her freezing shoulders.
“Mom!”
“Mom! Are you all right?”
“Lu-Lucy? Poul?” Leia blindly reached arms out, and they were instantly filled with warm bodies.
“Dad! She can’t see!” Rupert cried, alarmed.
“It’s okay,” Han replied. “It’s only temporary.”
“Ru-Rupert! Are you here, too?”
“Right here, Mom,” Rupert replied. He grabbed one of Leia’s hands and breathed warm air onto it, to try to help warm her.
Han wanted nothing more than to hold his wife and get her warmed up, but there were two dozen other senators, all coming out of hibernation, shivering and crawling on the floor like blind kittens. Some of them called out in a panic of being cold and unable to see. “Sweetheart, the others are here. I have to—”
“I can hear them,” Leia interrupted. “Go. Go. I’m fine.”
“I’ll be back,” Han promised, and kissed her briefly on the mouth.
Rupert made a similar promise and followed his father's lead to reassure one of the other senators briefly, just a word of comfort, a promise of rescue, and then on to the next one. Luke told Leia he was there, too, murmured a promise to return, kissed Leia on the cheek, and went to join Han and Rupert. Lucy excused herself and did likewise. Poul stayed with Leia. He wrapped his arms around her and said, "I'll warm you up, Mom."
"Th-thanks, Poul."
Chewbacca growled something and wrapped his arms around both her and Poul. “Chewie?” Leia said, touching the hairy arm trying to surround her. “You’re here too?”
There was a rumble of affirmation.
“Thanks,” Leia said, offering a smile through chattering teeth. The warm scratchy fur was the best blanket she could have hoped for. She let the closeness of Wookiee and child draw the worst of the chill out of her, and tried not to think of the other senators, who had neither.
Brenna watched the scene for a while with something akin to boredom. After a moment, she called, “Could we have a little heat, please!” A moment later, the temperature in the room started to climb. She continued watching until the senators were sufficiently warmed to stop chattering, watched Han, Luke, Rupert, and Lucy try to keep them corralled for a while, then sighed at the inefficiency and confusion of the situation. She decided it was time to take charge, and went to the nearest senator who was trying blindly to feel his way around the room, took him by the arm, and ordered him to “Stand up!” She led him to the spot next to the wall near the door where she had been standing earlier, told him to “Wait here!” got the next senator, and began to form a line, having them hold hands like a chain of school children.
Han, Rupert, Lucy, and Luke saw what she was doing, and began to follow suit. Brenna intercepted Lucy trying to lead her mother to the end of the group, and put Leia in the lead. “She’ll set a better pace,” Brenna said. “I don’t want to be slowed any more than we have to. Nobody told me they’d be blind!” She seemed annoyed at the inconvenience.
“Who was that?” Leia wanted to know.
“That’s Brenna,” Lucy replied.
“Luke’s daughter?” Leia said in surprise. She would have expected Brenna to have better manners.
“Yes.”
In relatively short order, they had the senators lined up and ready to go. The hand-holding served the triple purposes of keeping the senators in a group, preventing them from rubbing at their unseeing eyes, and taking their minds off the fact that they were still cold.
“All right,” Brenna said, when the last of them had been brought to the line. “Let’s go!”
Leia awkwardly began groping along the wall with her free hand. With an impatient sigh, Brenna grasped Lucy’s and Leia’s wrists, and joined their hands. “Lead her!” she said impatiently to Lucy.
Like an accordion expanding, the line began to move. Brenna reviewed it as it passed in front of her, like a general reviewing her troops and finding them wanting. She watched for the weakest links, then positioned Rupert, Poul, and SeeThreepio at those points, to keep those senators from stumbling. She put Chewbacca at the end of the line, figuring the big, hairy presence would be motivation to prevent straggling. Luke, Han, and Artoo she left to their own devices.
“A little bossy, isn’t she?” Han remarked.
“We’re all stressed out,” Luke replied.
Han refrained from pointing out that Brenna looked more bored than stressed out. He watched with a critical eye as Brenna none-too-gently reconnected a break in the hand-holding senators. She was keeping them moving, he supposed, and it was a better job than he would have been able to do.
And, he decided, there was something poetically right about a bunch of blind politicians being treated as if they were six years old.
“I’ll talk to her when we get out of this,” Luke promised.
“If we get out of this,” Han reminded him. “We’ve got a long way to go before we’re in the clear.” He left Luke, and trotted to the front of the line to take Lucy’s place in leading Leia. Brenna immediately repositioned Lucy elsewhere along the line.
Despite Han’s warning, the corridors continued to cooperate, and they found themselves back in the landing bay, where they had started their bizarre trek.
There was, however, one difference: a second ship had appeared next to the Falcon. It was a shuttle, capable of transporting their blind human cargo in relative comfort. The door was open, and a ramp led up to it invitingly.
Han stopped, Leia with him, and the whole line began to accordion-fold to a halt.
“What are you waiting for?” Brenna asked. “Go on.”
“Could be booby-trapped,” Han said. His words caused a stir among those senators who could hear him. The stir rippled down the line.
“The Falcon could be booby-trapped by now, too,” Brenna pointed out. “But it won’t be. They’re both safe.”
“You’re pretty sure about that?”
“Positive.”
Han turned to his friend. “Luke?”
Brenna sighed.
Luke closed his eyes for a second. “I don’t sense anything dangerous,” he said. “But I don’t trust our ‘host.’”
“This is too weird,” Han muttered. But he led the line out again, and up the ramp into the shuttle. Rupert and Lucy stationed themselves at the top and the bottom of the ramp, respectively, to help the senators up.
Han broke the chain between Leia and the next person, leaving her up at the front, then led the next senator and the rest of the line to the rear of the shuttle, then began seating each senator from the rear, making sure each one was securely buckled in before seating the next one.
Luke started the shuttle warming up, then squeezed down the ramp past the line of the few remaining senators waiting to board and sought out Brenna. “Come on, Bren. Time to strap in.”
“You go with the senators, and I’ll go on the Falcon,” Brenna said.
“I’d rather have you with me.”
She shook her head. “Etan Lippa has already given his word not to harm the senators, and he won’t do anything to the Falcon if I’m aboard her. Besides—“ she raised her voice, just to make sure she was being picked up by the com-mics in the landing bay “—Etan Lippa won’t release the ships unless you’re on the shuttle and I’m on the Falcon.”
She smiled.
Luke didn’t like her words, or her smile. She had just, in essence, told Etan Lippa not to release the ships unless he and Brenna were separated. “We’ll talk later,” he promised. Later, when there weren’t cameras and microphones and sensors recording everything they said or did.
“Sure, whatever.” Brenna shrugged. By the time ‘later’ arrived, it would be too late for her father to stop her, and she would already have shown Etan Lippa that she could make her own decisions.
Luke knew that he had no choice. He looked at Brenna a moment longer, then turned and walked up the ramp into the shuttle.
Then Rupert went over to speak to Brenna. “Are you sure they’re safe?”
“Safe enough,” Brenna replied. “Lippa knows it’s in his best interests not to hurt them.”
“He does?” Rupert said doubtfully.
Brenna smiled as she watched the next senator being guided on board the shuttle. The line was almost boarded. “He does. Now, shall we go?”
From the stand-by mode in which he had left the Falcon, it only took a couple of minutes to warm the ship. While he was waiting, Rupert opened a voice-link to his father. “I’ll fall in right behind you, stay between you and the Star Destroyer as much as I can.”
“Sure,” Han chirped cheerfully. “Easiest damn rescue I ever made.”
“I wouldn’t call that trophy room ‘easy,’” Rupert replied. But he did have to admit that Etan Lippa’s making the whole thing so convenient was downright eerie.
Brenna waited until the channel was clear and the com-mics were off before she spoke. She gave a Rupert a smile of the sort he remembered from Tatooine. “Rupert, can I ask you for a favor?”
“What?”
“Can I pilot your ship?”
Rupert hesitated. It hardly seemed the time for flying practice. On the other hand, there was no atmosphere to complicate things on take-off.
Besides, it might offer the chance for reconciliation with Brenna that he’d been hoping for. “Sure,” he said, sliding out of the pilot’s seat. “But I’ll do planetfall.”
“No problem,” Brenna murmured, taking the seat he had just vacated. She studied the unfamiliar arrangement of the cockpit for a moment, found the important controls, ignored everything having to do with cargo, but noting where the weapons systems were located. Then she flashed him another smile. “Ready?”
Rupert nodded, and stretched back the way his father had the first time he’d taken over the Falcon, hands clasped behind his head. “Take her out, Pilot.”
“Aye, Captain,” Brenna replied, with a salute.
The lift-off was smooth, smoother than Rupert had expected it to be, and she followed the shuttle at exactly fifty meters. Outside of the landing bay, they were once again in space, but the darkness was more of a distant fear now, not the overwhelming, mind-numbing fear like the krail-pit had given her. “She handles nice,” Brenna commented. “A lot nicer than a skyhopper.”
Rupert smiled at the compliment.
“We were about three thousand clicks out when the tractor beam got us, weren’t we?” Brenna asked.
“Right,” Rupert nodded.
“I’d better give them twice that, just to make sure.”
Alarms went off in Rupert’s brain. “Make sure of what?”
She gave him the same smile she had given him earlier, the one that had convinced him to let her pilot the Falcon out of the Star Destroyer. “Make sure they’re out of range. Lippa won’t fire on them, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try to use them as leverage.”
“What…are you planning?”
“Don’t worry, Rupert. I won’t hurt your ship.”
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.
.
Han was actually starting to relax. He figured they were well out of tractor-range, and the destroyer hadn’t taken even a single pot-shot at them. It was the easiest rescue he’d ever made, certainly a lot easier than the first time he’d rescued Leia. She hadn’t even given him a single insult this time around.
Well, that had been a few years back, and she’d had time since then to appreciate his finer qualities.
He leaned back, much like Rupert had done on take-off, and grinned at the man in the co-pilot's seat. “Comin’ up on six thousand clicks, and not a peep! I don’t know what kind of magic that daughter of yours has, but I—“
Luke frowned at the short-range sensors. “What the Hell—“
Han scanned the displays, looking for what had grabbed Luke's attention. “What is it?”
"They're turning back! Going back to the Star Destroyer!"
Han flipped on the com-line. “Rupert, turn that ship back around right now!”
The voice that answered, however, was female. “Sorry, I tricked Rupert into letting me fly. Go on ahead. We’ll catch up in a couple of minutes.”
Han flipped off the mic, and motioned to Luke. “Hook me up to the Falcon’s private frequency. Put me through to the co-pilot’s station.”
Luke made a few adjustments. "You're on."
Han flipped his mike back on. “Rupert! Are you there?”
There was a hesitation, then “Yeah, Dad.”
Han sighed in relief. “Use the cut-off switch to transfer control of the Falcon to your station.”
.
.
.
Inside the Falcon, Rupert looked over at the pilot. Brenna’s face was set determinedly. He hesitated again, then turned off the mic.
“That your Dad?” Brenna asked.
“Yeah. He…wants me to regain control, and turn the ship around.”
“How? By knocking me on the head and dragging me out of the seat?”
“Nothing so dramatic. There’s a…cut-off switch.”
“So why are you telling me about it instead of doing it?”
“I want to know what you have in mind.”
Brenna glanced at him, no trace of the smile he was so enamored of. “I want to take over the Star Destroyer.”
“Can you do that?”
“All we have to do is knock out the communications system. There isn't anyone on board. The destroyer is being controlled by another ship somewhere."
"You know where the communications system is?"
"Etan Lippa led me to the former bridge. I caught a glimpse of the antenna array through a secondary portal before you joined up with me again."
Rupert turned the microphone back on. “Sorry, Dad. She’s got my permission.”
Brenna looked at him briefly, and the smile was back. Then she pushed the sublight engines even faster towards the Star Destroyer looming ahead of them. “I knew you were smarter than you looked,” she said softly.
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.
.
Han ripped off his headset angrily. “Deities damn that daughter of yours!” he yelled to the person sitting next to him. “She’s got Rupert twisted around her little finger like a love-sick juju!” Han looped the shuttle to turn it in the opposite direction. “I’m going to kill her!” he declared. “I’m just going to kill her.”
“You may not get the chance,” Luke pointed out. “Etan Lippa may do it first.”
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.
.
“Thirty-five hundred clicks,” Rupert said, relaying the information on his screen. “Thirty-four hundred. We’ll be coming into tractor-beam range any time.”
“Good,” Brenna murmured, continuing to accelerate. She glanced at the weapons systems, then hit the switches to power them up without looking at them again.
“Three thousand—we’re in the beam! Should I shut the engines down?”
“Not on your life!”
Tractor-beams were made to draw in, not repel, and the pull of the beam added to the power of the Falcon’s sublight engines caused the ship’s velocity to increase even more.
“This is fun!” Brenna yelled, grinning at Rupert. “Better than Beggar’s Canyon!”
“Fun?” Rupert echoed, staring at her. “Are you out of your mind?” He looked at his read-outs. “They’re turning to follow us, by the way.”
Brenna’s grin disappeared instantly. “The shuttle?”
“Nobody but.”
Brenna switched on the microphone. The Falcon’s faster speed had given them about a thousand-meter lead over the shuttle, but it might not be enough. Brenna kicked herself mentally for not putting more distance between them and the Star Destroyer before turning around, but she wanted to make sure Lippa didn’t jump the Star Destroyer into hyperspace. “Falcon to shuttle! Stay out of tractor-range! I repeat, stay back! Don’t come any closer!”
“They’re still following,” Rupert commented.
Brenna looked at him. “Rupert,” she said, “the only one out of his mind is your father! He’s going to ruin the whole thing! You’d better convince him to turn around, and I mean now!”
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.
.
“If you don’t turn around, you’ll get caught in the tractor-beam! Please, Dad, we have a plan!”
The worry in Rupert’s voice convinced Han more than ever to keep following them. Han had known Brenna would snap. He just hadn’t known it would happen so soon, and while Rupert was around, too. “We’re in this together, remember? Where you go, I go,” Han replied. He pushed the fragile shuttle to the limits of her engines. The Falconwas pulling away, but it wouldn’t be long before the shuttle was caught in the beam, too.
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“Forget it!” Brenna said, watching the distance between the Falcon and Star Destroyer. “We’re running out of time. The antenna array is just aft of the port maneuvering thrusters. That’s our target. We take that out, and Etan Lippa is as blind as the senators on the shuttle. The destroyer’s ours. Now, are you with me? I need your help. Would you rather fly or shoot?”
“Shoot,” Rupert said instantly.
“Then get your rear into the belly turret! If your father weren’t such an idiot, I could give you as many passes as you needed. As it is, you only get one. If Lippa gets the shuttle on board before we get the array, he could make the jump to hyperspace, and we’ll never see them again. He’ll use them as leverage against me. Got that?”
“Yes.”
“Then go!”
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.
“Coming up on three thousand,” Luke said. “This is where the Falcon got caught the first time.”
A second later, Han announced, “Yup, we’re in range. We’re being pulled in.” He watched the Falcon up ahead, about to crash into the Star Destroyer. “You could have told me your daughter was suicidal, Luke! She’s trying to ram it!”
Then, inexplicably, the Falcon pulled up. Luke checked his readings and frowned. "The tractor released them."
“It released the Falcon?” Han said incredulously. “Hey, maybe the same thing will work for us!” He had been in the process of powering down, but changed his mind and started to accelerate.
“Han, break out of the beam!” Luke said suddenly.
“What?”
“Break out of the beam! Brenna’s not on board. Lippa won’t care if we crash, but he wouldn’t let Brenna! She knew that! That’s why she went in!”
“Damn it, Luke, your sense of timing leaves something to be desired!” Han switched his engines to full reverse, but there was little effect on their forward momentum.
“Can you turn the shuttle around?” Luke asked. “Give us more thrusting power?”
“Yeah, I was just thinking that myself. Let's try reverse starboard, forward port, full power. Let’s see what that does.”
What it did was turn the shuttle 180 degrees, and by increasing power to the aft thrusters, Han managed to slow their approach, but he couldn’t break free or stop. It also, however, created a different problem. “Engine temperature is starting to climb,” Han noted. “We won’t be able to keep this up for long.”
“Keep it up as long as you can,” Luke advised.
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.
.
"That," Rupert asked incredulously, looking at the display for his approaching target. "You want me to hit that?"
"Can you hit it, or not?"
"How close in can you get me?
"As close as you like. He's not going to shoot back."
"You're sure?"
"Positive."
Brenna brought the Falcon in closer to the antenna array. Ignoring the weapons-lock, which was useless against such a small target, Rupert pulled the trigger to fire the gun as soon as he was in any sort of range.
Nothing happened.
"Any time now," Brenna said over the com-link.
"Weapons malfunction!" Rupert yelled back. "Lippa must have disabled the guns while we were on the Star Destroyer!"
Brenna groaned.
"Want me to try topside?"
Brenna tried firing the top turret from the bridge, which wasn't as accurate as actually manning the thing, but accuracy wasn't what she was after. A "Weapons Malfunction" warning appeared on her display.
"Don't bother. It's disabled, too."
“What now?” Rupert asked over the intercom. “We don’t have any weapons.”
“We have one,” Brenna said grimly. “Get up here!”
It only took him a few seconds, and Brenna realized he’d already been well on his way when she’d spoken to him. He saw that she had looped around and was heading back towards the docking bay, where the shuttle was alarmingly close to entering. She didn’t wait for him to sit down before she spoke again.
“Rupert,” she said, “I don’t know how badly Etan Lippa wants me alive, whether he’s willing to sacrifice his Star Destroyer to keep me that way. I do know that if that shuttle goes inside, we’ll never see our families again.”
“What’s your plan?”
“Ram it.”
“Ram the shuttle? You've got to be kidding. We won't get it out of the tractor beam that way!”
“The docking bay, you idiot. Imperial Star Destroyers were retro-fitted with self-destruct mechanisms after the battle of Death Star One, to keep them from falling into enemy hands. That's why the Alliance could never get its hands on one, even after the Battle of Endor. Lippa will have to trigger the self-destruct if he wants me alive. He won’t have time to shut off the beam and jump to hyperspace."
"Uh, Brenna?" Rupert said. "You were wrong about the antenna array. Are you sure Lippa wants you alive?"
Brenna looked at him. "I wasn't wrong about the array. I was wrong about you having better locks on your ship. If I am wrong, at least we take out the tractor beam with us. He'll either destroy the Star Destroyer, or let us destroy ourselves. Either way, the shuttle’s clear.”
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.
.
“Falcon to shuttle,” Rupert’s voice came in clear. “Prepare to pull out. Jump to hyperspace, if you can. You’re going to have to get out of here fast.”
“What are you up to, Rupert?” Han wanted to know.
“We’re going to ram the docking bay and turn off that tractor.”
“I can’t let you do that, Son. It’s suicide.”
Rupert’s voice was calm in reply. “I don’t see how you can stop us. And besides it isn’t just you, but my mother and my brother and my sister are on that shuttle. You’re responsible for them. Etan Lippa won’t let them go a second time. Brenna and I are in agreement about this.”
“Maybe he'll just let us go again.”
“If he were going to let you go, he'd have just turned off the beam. I don’t have time to argue about it now, Dad. But if you don’t pull out, we’ll have an eternity to discuss it. Falcon out.”
“No!” Luke cried.
“Here they come!” Han yelled, hand on the joy-stick even though they were still caught in the tractor beam. The shuttle’s thrusters were already on full, and in danger of giving out, as the weaker ship tried to push away from the beam in the opposite direction.
The Falcon swept by in an arc overhead, on full thrusters, past the shuttle that was trying vainly to head the other way.
A second later, there was an explosion of light from behind them, and the shuttle jumped forward.
.
.
.
Han fought to keep the shuttle under control as it shuddered and rocked under the dual shocks of engine stress and debris collision. Their backwards momentum from the tractor beam before they could pile on the forward speed meant that a certain amount of wreckage hit them before they could thrust their way clear.
When the rocking stopped and left only the shuddering, Han turned control of the shuttle over to Luke, and glanced backwards towards the passenger compartment. “Everyone okay?” he yelled.
“We’re fine!” Lucy yelled back. “What the Hell was that?”
Han didn’t answer. He turned and looked at Luke, who was more pale than Han had ever seen him. Luke’s blue eyes were scanning the shuttle’s instrument panel in a panic.
“Any sign of the Falcon?” Han asked.
“With all this debris, it’s hard to tell,” Luke replied grimly.
Han also began scanning the instrument panel. He flipped a switch, “Shuttle to Falcon, do you read? Shuttle to Falcon, do you read me? Come in, Falcon!”
The channel was filled with static, a residual effect of the explosion.
Han kept trying. “Shuttle to Falcon, come in, Falcon!”
And then, just barely audible over the static, he heard Rupert’s voice yelling, “Yeeeee-haaaaaaw!” accompanied by the sounds of delighted feminine laughter, and then the Falcon swooped past them overhead.
Han let out a breath of relief, then turned to look at Luke.
Luke’s eyes were closed, and his head was tilted up against the seat back. As Han watched, Luke raised his hands and used them to cover his face, then drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly.
Apparently Etan Lippa had a flair for the dramatic.
Brenna knew they had come to the senators when the door was slow to open, like the one to the trophy room had been.
They weren’t preserved in carbonite, but they were on display, as much of a display as the Jedi Knights had been, but not nearly so gruesome. Each senator was enclosed in a clear tube, still clothed in whatever day wear or evening wear he/she happened to have been wearing at the time of the kidnapping. They were all standing, eyes closed, hands down at their sides, not moving, not even breathing. Some of them were human. Some were species Brenna had only seen on computer images in school.
There were two rows of them, lining each side of the long side of the room. Lucy went running between them, head rotating from side to side, followed closely by Rupert. Han shoved Poul at Chewbacca and went after them. “Careful!” Han yelled. “Don’t touch anything!”
Lucy found what she was looking for at the far end of the room. “Mom!” she cried.
“Don’t touch anything!” Han repeated.
Lucy stopped just short of putting her hands on the case. Rupert stopped right behind her. Poul squirmed in Chewbacca's arms, unable to escape, screaming, “I want to see Mom!”
Brenna watched from just inside the door. She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the wall. Now that she had gotten the group here, she seemed bored by the rest. Luke glanced at her, then went to catch up with the others.
Han parted his way through Lucy and Rupert, and studied the encasement around Leia. He walked all around the tube twice, squatted down to study the base, looked up to study the top. “How do we get her out of there?” he murmured. “There aren’t any controls.”
“Take the casing back with us?” Rupert suggested.
“But what about the others?” Lucy wanted to know. “We can’t just leave them here.”
Han shook his head. “It may be too dangerous to move any of them or do anything without knowing what the Hell we’re doing. Luke? Any ideas?”
Luke peered inside the tube at the mechanisms at the top. “They’re remote operated. We’d have to find the control center.”
From her place by the door, Brenna sighed. Then she looked towards the ceiling and raised her voice. “I’d like them thawed out, please!” she called.
A second later, there was faint hum, and the tubes began to glow with orange light. A green liquid began to flow through narrow lines leading from the tops of the tubes to intravenous lines attached to the senators’ necks. Han watched Leia, for any sign of life. In a few seconds, there was a faint fog on the inside of the tube near her nose and mouth. It disappeared, only to be replaced by another faint fog a couple seconds later. As more seconds ticked by, the fogging became denser and more frequent, and Han could detect movement in her chest. Then all at once, her knees gave out, and she collapsed inside the limited space of the tube, and began to shiver and hug herself.
Han remembered what it was like to come out of hibernation. She was freezing. He cupped his hands against the tube. “Leia!” he shouted.
Her eyes opened. “Han?” Her voice was muffled through the tube. She blinked, shivering and unseeing. “Ha-Han! Are you here?”
“Right here, Sweetheart! Just hold on! We’ll get you out of there!”
The tubes lifted then, retracting into the ceiling, and Leia and a couple dozen other senators spilled out of them onto the floor. Leia was caught by four pairs of hands. The others weren’t so lucky.
“Leia!” Han’s jacket was off him in an instant, and covering her freezing shoulders.
“Mom!”
“Mom! Are you all right?”
“Lu-Lucy? Poul?” Leia blindly reached arms out, and they were instantly filled with warm bodies.
“Dad! She can’t see!” Rupert cried, alarmed.
“It’s okay,” Han replied. “It’s only temporary.”
“Ru-Rupert! Are you here, too?”
“Right here, Mom,” Rupert replied. He grabbed one of Leia’s hands and breathed warm air onto it, to try to help warm her.
Han wanted nothing more than to hold his wife and get her warmed up, but there were two dozen other senators, all coming out of hibernation, shivering and crawling on the floor like blind kittens. Some of them called out in a panic of being cold and unable to see. “Sweetheart, the others are here. I have to—”
“I can hear them,” Leia interrupted. “Go. Go. I’m fine.”
“I’ll be back,” Han promised, and kissed her briefly on the mouth.
Rupert made a similar promise and followed his father's lead to reassure one of the other senators briefly, just a word of comfort, a promise of rescue, and then on to the next one. Luke told Leia he was there, too, murmured a promise to return, kissed Leia on the cheek, and went to join Han and Rupert. Lucy excused herself and did likewise. Poul stayed with Leia. He wrapped his arms around her and said, "I'll warm you up, Mom."
"Th-thanks, Poul."
Chewbacca growled something and wrapped his arms around both her and Poul. “Chewie?” Leia said, touching the hairy arm trying to surround her. “You’re here too?”
There was a rumble of affirmation.
“Thanks,” Leia said, offering a smile through chattering teeth. The warm scratchy fur was the best blanket she could have hoped for. She let the closeness of Wookiee and child draw the worst of the chill out of her, and tried not to think of the other senators, who had neither.
Brenna watched the scene for a while with something akin to boredom. After a moment, she called, “Could we have a little heat, please!” A moment later, the temperature in the room started to climb. She continued watching until the senators were sufficiently warmed to stop chattering, watched Han, Luke, Rupert, and Lucy try to keep them corralled for a while, then sighed at the inefficiency and confusion of the situation. She decided it was time to take charge, and went to the nearest senator who was trying blindly to feel his way around the room, took him by the arm, and ordered him to “Stand up!” She led him to the spot next to the wall near the door where she had been standing earlier, told him to “Wait here!” got the next senator, and began to form a line, having them hold hands like a chain of school children.
Han, Rupert, Lucy, and Luke saw what she was doing, and began to follow suit. Brenna intercepted Lucy trying to lead her mother to the end of the group, and put Leia in the lead. “She’ll set a better pace,” Brenna said. “I don’t want to be slowed any more than we have to. Nobody told me they’d be blind!” She seemed annoyed at the inconvenience.
“Who was that?” Leia wanted to know.
“That’s Brenna,” Lucy replied.
“Luke’s daughter?” Leia said in surprise. She would have expected Brenna to have better manners.
“Yes.”
In relatively short order, they had the senators lined up and ready to go. The hand-holding served the triple purposes of keeping the senators in a group, preventing them from rubbing at their unseeing eyes, and taking their minds off the fact that they were still cold.
“All right,” Brenna said, when the last of them had been brought to the line. “Let’s go!”
Leia awkwardly began groping along the wall with her free hand. With an impatient sigh, Brenna grasped Lucy’s and Leia’s wrists, and joined their hands. “Lead her!” she said impatiently to Lucy.
Like an accordion expanding, the line began to move. Brenna reviewed it as it passed in front of her, like a general reviewing her troops and finding them wanting. She watched for the weakest links, then positioned Rupert, Poul, and SeeThreepio at those points, to keep those senators from stumbling. She put Chewbacca at the end of the line, figuring the big, hairy presence would be motivation to prevent straggling. Luke, Han, and Artoo she left to their own devices.
“A little bossy, isn’t she?” Han remarked.
“We’re all stressed out,” Luke replied.
Han refrained from pointing out that Brenna looked more bored than stressed out. He watched with a critical eye as Brenna none-too-gently reconnected a break in the hand-holding senators. She was keeping them moving, he supposed, and it was a better job than he would have been able to do.
And, he decided, there was something poetically right about a bunch of blind politicians being treated as if they were six years old.
“I’ll talk to her when we get out of this,” Luke promised.
“If we get out of this,” Han reminded him. “We’ve got a long way to go before we’re in the clear.” He left Luke, and trotted to the front of the line to take Lucy’s place in leading Leia. Brenna immediately repositioned Lucy elsewhere along the line.
Despite Han’s warning, the corridors continued to cooperate, and they found themselves back in the landing bay, where they had started their bizarre trek.
There was, however, one difference: a second ship had appeared next to the Falcon. It was a shuttle, capable of transporting their blind human cargo in relative comfort. The door was open, and a ramp led up to it invitingly.
Han stopped, Leia with him, and the whole line began to accordion-fold to a halt.
“What are you waiting for?” Brenna asked. “Go on.”
“Could be booby-trapped,” Han said. His words caused a stir among those senators who could hear him. The stir rippled down the line.
“The Falcon could be booby-trapped by now, too,” Brenna pointed out. “But it won’t be. They’re both safe.”
“You’re pretty sure about that?”
“Positive.”
Han turned to his friend. “Luke?”
Brenna sighed.
Luke closed his eyes for a second. “I don’t sense anything dangerous,” he said. “But I don’t trust our ‘host.’”
“This is too weird,” Han muttered. But he led the line out again, and up the ramp into the shuttle. Rupert and Lucy stationed themselves at the top and the bottom of the ramp, respectively, to help the senators up.
Han broke the chain between Leia and the next person, leaving her up at the front, then led the next senator and the rest of the line to the rear of the shuttle, then began seating each senator from the rear, making sure each one was securely buckled in before seating the next one.
Luke started the shuttle warming up, then squeezed down the ramp past the line of the few remaining senators waiting to board and sought out Brenna. “Come on, Bren. Time to strap in.”
“You go with the senators, and I’ll go on the Falcon,” Brenna said.
“I’d rather have you with me.”
She shook her head. “Etan Lippa has already given his word not to harm the senators, and he won’t do anything to the Falcon if I’m aboard her. Besides—“ she raised her voice, just to make sure she was being picked up by the com-mics in the landing bay “—Etan Lippa won’t release the ships unless you’re on the shuttle and I’m on the Falcon.”
She smiled.
Luke didn’t like her words, or her smile. She had just, in essence, told Etan Lippa not to release the ships unless he and Brenna were separated. “We’ll talk later,” he promised. Later, when there weren’t cameras and microphones and sensors recording everything they said or did.
“Sure, whatever.” Brenna shrugged. By the time ‘later’ arrived, it would be too late for her father to stop her, and she would already have shown Etan Lippa that she could make her own decisions.
Luke knew that he had no choice. He looked at Brenna a moment longer, then turned and walked up the ramp into the shuttle.
Then Rupert went over to speak to Brenna. “Are you sure they’re safe?”
“Safe enough,” Brenna replied. “Lippa knows it’s in his best interests not to hurt them.”
“He does?” Rupert said doubtfully.
Brenna smiled as she watched the next senator being guided on board the shuttle. The line was almost boarded. “He does. Now, shall we go?”
From the stand-by mode in which he had left the Falcon, it only took a couple of minutes to warm the ship. While he was waiting, Rupert opened a voice-link to his father. “I’ll fall in right behind you, stay between you and the Star Destroyer as much as I can.”
“Sure,” Han chirped cheerfully. “Easiest damn rescue I ever made.”
“I wouldn’t call that trophy room ‘easy,’” Rupert replied. But he did have to admit that Etan Lippa’s making the whole thing so convenient was downright eerie.
Brenna waited until the channel was clear and the com-mics were off before she spoke. She gave a Rupert a smile of the sort he remembered from Tatooine. “Rupert, can I ask you for a favor?”
“What?”
“Can I pilot your ship?”
Rupert hesitated. It hardly seemed the time for flying practice. On the other hand, there was no atmosphere to complicate things on take-off.
Besides, it might offer the chance for reconciliation with Brenna that he’d been hoping for. “Sure,” he said, sliding out of the pilot’s seat. “But I’ll do planetfall.”
“No problem,” Brenna murmured, taking the seat he had just vacated. She studied the unfamiliar arrangement of the cockpit for a moment, found the important controls, ignored everything having to do with cargo, but noting where the weapons systems were located. Then she flashed him another smile. “Ready?”
Rupert nodded, and stretched back the way his father had the first time he’d taken over the Falcon, hands clasped behind his head. “Take her out, Pilot.”
“Aye, Captain,” Brenna replied, with a salute.
The lift-off was smooth, smoother than Rupert had expected it to be, and she followed the shuttle at exactly fifty meters. Outside of the landing bay, they were once again in space, but the darkness was more of a distant fear now, not the overwhelming, mind-numbing fear like the krail-pit had given her. “She handles nice,” Brenna commented. “A lot nicer than a skyhopper.”
Rupert smiled at the compliment.
“We were about three thousand clicks out when the tractor beam got us, weren’t we?” Brenna asked.
“Right,” Rupert nodded.
“I’d better give them twice that, just to make sure.”
Alarms went off in Rupert’s brain. “Make sure of what?”
She gave him the same smile she had given him earlier, the one that had convinced him to let her pilot the Falcon out of the Star Destroyer. “Make sure they’re out of range. Lippa won’t fire on them, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try to use them as leverage.”
“What…are you planning?”
“Don’t worry, Rupert. I won’t hurt your ship.”
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.
Han was actually starting to relax. He figured they were well out of tractor-range, and the destroyer hadn’t taken even a single pot-shot at them. It was the easiest rescue he’d ever made, certainly a lot easier than the first time he’d rescued Leia. She hadn’t even given him a single insult this time around.
Well, that had been a few years back, and she’d had time since then to appreciate his finer qualities.
He leaned back, much like Rupert had done on take-off, and grinned at the man in the co-pilot's seat. “Comin’ up on six thousand clicks, and not a peep! I don’t know what kind of magic that daughter of yours has, but I—“
Luke frowned at the short-range sensors. “What the Hell—“
Han scanned the displays, looking for what had grabbed Luke's attention. “What is it?”
"They're turning back! Going back to the Star Destroyer!"
Han flipped on the com-line. “Rupert, turn that ship back around right now!”
The voice that answered, however, was female. “Sorry, I tricked Rupert into letting me fly. Go on ahead. We’ll catch up in a couple of minutes.”
Han flipped off the mic, and motioned to Luke. “Hook me up to the Falcon’s private frequency. Put me through to the co-pilot’s station.”
Luke made a few adjustments. "You're on."
Han flipped his mike back on. “Rupert! Are you there?”
There was a hesitation, then “Yeah, Dad.”
Han sighed in relief. “Use the cut-off switch to transfer control of the Falcon to your station.”
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Inside the Falcon, Rupert looked over at the pilot. Brenna’s face was set determinedly. He hesitated again, then turned off the mic.
“That your Dad?” Brenna asked.
“Yeah. He…wants me to regain control, and turn the ship around.”
“How? By knocking me on the head and dragging me out of the seat?”
“Nothing so dramatic. There’s a…cut-off switch.”
“So why are you telling me about it instead of doing it?”
“I want to know what you have in mind.”
Brenna glanced at him, no trace of the smile he was so enamored of. “I want to take over the Star Destroyer.”
“Can you do that?”
“All we have to do is knock out the communications system. There isn't anyone on board. The destroyer is being controlled by another ship somewhere."
"You know where the communications system is?"
"Etan Lippa led me to the former bridge. I caught a glimpse of the antenna array through a secondary portal before you joined up with me again."
Rupert turned the microphone back on. “Sorry, Dad. She’s got my permission.”
Brenna looked at him briefly, and the smile was back. Then she pushed the sublight engines even faster towards the Star Destroyer looming ahead of them. “I knew you were smarter than you looked,” she said softly.
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Han ripped off his headset angrily. “Deities damn that daughter of yours!” he yelled to the person sitting next to him. “She’s got Rupert twisted around her little finger like a love-sick juju!” Han looped the shuttle to turn it in the opposite direction. “I’m going to kill her!” he declared. “I’m just going to kill her.”
“You may not get the chance,” Luke pointed out. “Etan Lippa may do it first.”
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“Thirty-five hundred clicks,” Rupert said, relaying the information on his screen. “Thirty-four hundred. We’ll be coming into tractor-beam range any time.”
“Good,” Brenna murmured, continuing to accelerate. She glanced at the weapons systems, then hit the switches to power them up without looking at them again.
“Three thousand—we’re in the beam! Should I shut the engines down?”
“Not on your life!”
Tractor-beams were made to draw in, not repel, and the pull of the beam added to the power of the Falcon’s sublight engines caused the ship’s velocity to increase even more.
“This is fun!” Brenna yelled, grinning at Rupert. “Better than Beggar’s Canyon!”
“Fun?” Rupert echoed, staring at her. “Are you out of your mind?” He looked at his read-outs. “They’re turning to follow us, by the way.”
Brenna’s grin disappeared instantly. “The shuttle?”
“Nobody but.”
Brenna switched on the microphone. The Falcon’s faster speed had given them about a thousand-meter lead over the shuttle, but it might not be enough. Brenna kicked herself mentally for not putting more distance between them and the Star Destroyer before turning around, but she wanted to make sure Lippa didn’t jump the Star Destroyer into hyperspace. “Falcon to shuttle! Stay out of tractor-range! I repeat, stay back! Don’t come any closer!”
“They’re still following,” Rupert commented.
Brenna looked at him. “Rupert,” she said, “the only one out of his mind is your father! He’s going to ruin the whole thing! You’d better convince him to turn around, and I mean now!”
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“If you don’t turn around, you’ll get caught in the tractor-beam! Please, Dad, we have a plan!”
The worry in Rupert’s voice convinced Han more than ever to keep following them. Han had known Brenna would snap. He just hadn’t known it would happen so soon, and while Rupert was around, too. “We’re in this together, remember? Where you go, I go,” Han replied. He pushed the fragile shuttle to the limits of her engines. The Falconwas pulling away, but it wouldn’t be long before the shuttle was caught in the beam, too.
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“Forget it!” Brenna said, watching the distance between the Falcon and Star Destroyer. “We’re running out of time. The antenna array is just aft of the port maneuvering thrusters. That’s our target. We take that out, and Etan Lippa is as blind as the senators on the shuttle. The destroyer’s ours. Now, are you with me? I need your help. Would you rather fly or shoot?”
“Shoot,” Rupert said instantly.
“Then get your rear into the belly turret! If your father weren’t such an idiot, I could give you as many passes as you needed. As it is, you only get one. If Lippa gets the shuttle on board before we get the array, he could make the jump to hyperspace, and we’ll never see them again. He’ll use them as leverage against me. Got that?”
“Yes.”
“Then go!”
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“Coming up on three thousand,” Luke said. “This is where the Falcon got caught the first time.”
A second later, Han announced, “Yup, we’re in range. We’re being pulled in.” He watched the Falcon up ahead, about to crash into the Star Destroyer. “You could have told me your daughter was suicidal, Luke! She’s trying to ram it!”
Then, inexplicably, the Falcon pulled up. Luke checked his readings and frowned. "The tractor released them."
“It released the Falcon?” Han said incredulously. “Hey, maybe the same thing will work for us!” He had been in the process of powering down, but changed his mind and started to accelerate.
“Han, break out of the beam!” Luke said suddenly.
“What?”
“Break out of the beam! Brenna’s not on board. Lippa won’t care if we crash, but he wouldn’t let Brenna! She knew that! That’s why she went in!”
“Damn it, Luke, your sense of timing leaves something to be desired!” Han switched his engines to full reverse, but there was little effect on their forward momentum.
“Can you turn the shuttle around?” Luke asked. “Give us more thrusting power?”
“Yeah, I was just thinking that myself. Let's try reverse starboard, forward port, full power. Let’s see what that does.”
What it did was turn the shuttle 180 degrees, and by increasing power to the aft thrusters, Han managed to slow their approach, but he couldn’t break free or stop. It also, however, created a different problem. “Engine temperature is starting to climb,” Han noted. “We won’t be able to keep this up for long.”
“Keep it up as long as you can,” Luke advised.
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.
"That," Rupert asked incredulously, looking at the display for his approaching target. "You want me to hit that?"
"Can you hit it, or not?"
"How close in can you get me?
"As close as you like. He's not going to shoot back."
"You're sure?"
"Positive."
Brenna brought the Falcon in closer to the antenna array. Ignoring the weapons-lock, which was useless against such a small target, Rupert pulled the trigger to fire the gun as soon as he was in any sort of range.
Nothing happened.
"Any time now," Brenna said over the com-link.
"Weapons malfunction!" Rupert yelled back. "Lippa must have disabled the guns while we were on the Star Destroyer!"
Brenna groaned.
"Want me to try topside?"
Brenna tried firing the top turret from the bridge, which wasn't as accurate as actually manning the thing, but accuracy wasn't what she was after. A "Weapons Malfunction" warning appeared on her display.
"Don't bother. It's disabled, too."
“What now?” Rupert asked over the intercom. “We don’t have any weapons.”
“We have one,” Brenna said grimly. “Get up here!”
It only took him a few seconds, and Brenna realized he’d already been well on his way when she’d spoken to him. He saw that she had looped around and was heading back towards the docking bay, where the shuttle was alarmingly close to entering. She didn’t wait for him to sit down before she spoke again.
“Rupert,” she said, “I don’t know how badly Etan Lippa wants me alive, whether he’s willing to sacrifice his Star Destroyer to keep me that way. I do know that if that shuttle goes inside, we’ll never see our families again.”
“What’s your plan?”
“Ram it.”
“Ram the shuttle? You've got to be kidding. We won't get it out of the tractor beam that way!”
“The docking bay, you idiot. Imperial Star Destroyers were retro-fitted with self-destruct mechanisms after the battle of Death Star One, to keep them from falling into enemy hands. That's why the Alliance could never get its hands on one, even after the Battle of Endor. Lippa will have to trigger the self-destruct if he wants me alive. He won’t have time to shut off the beam and jump to hyperspace."
"Uh, Brenna?" Rupert said. "You were wrong about the antenna array. Are you sure Lippa wants you alive?"
Brenna looked at him. "I wasn't wrong about the array. I was wrong about you having better locks on your ship. If I am wrong, at least we take out the tractor beam with us. He'll either destroy the Star Destroyer, or let us destroy ourselves. Either way, the shuttle’s clear.”
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“Falcon to shuttle,” Rupert’s voice came in clear. “Prepare to pull out. Jump to hyperspace, if you can. You’re going to have to get out of here fast.”
“What are you up to, Rupert?” Han wanted to know.
“We’re going to ram the docking bay and turn off that tractor.”
“I can’t let you do that, Son. It’s suicide.”
Rupert’s voice was calm in reply. “I don’t see how you can stop us. And besides it isn’t just you, but my mother and my brother and my sister are on that shuttle. You’re responsible for them. Etan Lippa won’t let them go a second time. Brenna and I are in agreement about this.”
“Maybe he'll just let us go again.”
“If he were going to let you go, he'd have just turned off the beam. I don’t have time to argue about it now, Dad. But if you don’t pull out, we’ll have an eternity to discuss it. Falcon out.”
“No!” Luke cried.
“Here they come!” Han yelled, hand on the joy-stick even though they were still caught in the tractor beam. The shuttle’s thrusters were already on full, and in danger of giving out, as the weaker ship tried to push away from the beam in the opposite direction.
The Falcon swept by in an arc overhead, on full thrusters, past the shuttle that was trying vainly to head the other way.
A second later, there was an explosion of light from behind them, and the shuttle jumped forward.
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Han fought to keep the shuttle under control as it shuddered and rocked under the dual shocks of engine stress and debris collision. Their backwards momentum from the tractor beam before they could pile on the forward speed meant that a certain amount of wreckage hit them before they could thrust their way clear.
When the rocking stopped and left only the shuddering, Han turned control of the shuttle over to Luke, and glanced backwards towards the passenger compartment. “Everyone okay?” he yelled.
“We’re fine!” Lucy yelled back. “What the Hell was that?”
Han didn’t answer. He turned and looked at Luke, who was more pale than Han had ever seen him. Luke’s blue eyes were scanning the shuttle’s instrument panel in a panic.
“Any sign of the Falcon?” Han asked.
“With all this debris, it’s hard to tell,” Luke replied grimly.
Han also began scanning the instrument panel. He flipped a switch, “Shuttle to Falcon, do you read? Shuttle to Falcon, do you read me? Come in, Falcon!”
The channel was filled with static, a residual effect of the explosion.
Han kept trying. “Shuttle to Falcon, come in, Falcon!”
And then, just barely audible over the static, he heard Rupert’s voice yelling, “Yeeeee-haaaaaaw!” accompanied by the sounds of delighted feminine laughter, and then the Falcon swooped past them overhead.
Han let out a breath of relief, then turned to look at Luke.
Luke’s eyes were closed, and his head was tilted up against the seat back. As Han watched, Luke raised his hands and used them to cover his face, then drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly.
-----
Chapter Twenty
Once they had landed on Coruscant, and medical personnel had taken over the care of the still-blind senators, Luke went looking for his daughter.
She and Rupert were in the process of finishing a damage inspection on the Falcon when they saw him coming.
“Great,” Brenna muttered.
“I’ll take the heat,” Rupert told her.
“No,” Brenna said, holding up a staying hand. “I can handle it.”
She walked to meet her father with her head held high, not even knowing that Rupert was behind her until she heard his voice saying. “The Falcon is my ship, sir, and I captained her the way I saw fit.”
Luke fixed him with ice-blue eyes. “Then you’re an idiot.”
Brenna was about to second the motion when she noticed Han approaching. She was annoyed at Rupert for butting in when she had specifically told him to stay out, and decided to return the favor. “But it was my idea!” she called out, loud enough for Han to hear.
Han paid no attention. He gave his son a bear-hug, which was readily returned.
Luke's back was to Rupert and Han. He didn't see the hug. “Brenna—“ Luke said.
She looked from Han and Rupert to her father, who had offered her no such tokens of affection, then began to walk away.
He hurried to catch up with her. “All I want to know is why.”
Brenna didn’t slow her pace. “I figured the Star Destroyer should be on our side rather than Etan Lippa’s. It would have been, too, if you and your friend hadn't gotten involved. Don't you think we could have used a Star Destroyer?”
“Not at the cost of your life!”
“Rupert and I were perfectly safe...until the shuttle got involved, anyway. And even then, the danger was minimal.”
“Minimal?” Luke echoed in disbelief. “You could have been killed!”
“Hardly. Etan Lippa blew up his own Star Destroyer rather than risk my getting hurt.”
“He blew it up?”
“Did I stutter?”
“Then he really does want you alive.”
“Duh!” Brenna responded, still moving.
“Why? Why would he let you go free? Why would he blow up a Star Destroyer rather than let you crash?”
“He wants me to be his girlfriend,” Brenna said cheerfully. “I can’t do that if I’m dead.”
Luke stared at her, then caught her arm to stop her. “What...was your response?”
“Really, Dad, I should think my answer would be obvious. But he seems to think that he can convince me to change my mind, and as long as he thinks that, I’m perfectly safe.” She pulled away and started to resume walking back to the Falcon.
“Brenna—”
She looked back, and saw him open his arms and take a step towards her, offering her the hug that Rupert’s father had given him straightway.
Brenna turned, and strode away.
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Brenna woke early, pulled on the white bathrobe her aunt Leia had provided along with the suite, and went into the living area. Artoo watched silently from his place in the corner.
Her father wasn't up yet, but there was already a message on the recorder. The red light blinked on and off one time, paused, and blinked again. One message. It had been recorded during the night, but the sender had deactivated the "alert" function, and so the mail had been received silently.
"Computer, play message," she said.
Rupert's face appeared on the screen. Smiling.
Hell, she'd be smiling, too, if she were in his shoes. He'd gotten his mother back, retrieved the other senators, and he was going to be trained.
"Good morning," Rupert said. "Didn't want to wake either of you, and I don’t know what time you get up, so I'm recording this. Luke, I'm at your disposal. Brenna, I'd like to show you some of my homeworld, after seeing some of yours. If you've got nothing better to do, this afternoon would be good, unless something comes up. You know where to find me. Don't be afraid of calling too early, or too late. Or if you don't like tours, there's always the hover-rink. Or anything else you want to do. Please say 'yes.' I'd really like to go out with you again." That was the end of the message.
Brenna sighed. "Computer, rewind message."
The message was instantaneously rewound.
"Computer, replay message until stop."
Rupert's smiling face appeared again. "Good morning. Didn't want to wake either of you, so I'm recording this. Luke, I'm at your disposal—"
"Stop." Brenna said.
The message froze.
"Computer, delete rest of message. No reply. Reset and rewind."
The red light blinked dutifully once again. Brenna left the part of the message intended for her father intact, but saw no reason to leave her private messages on display for him. Not that it mattered. She had no intention of going out with Rupert again. She didn't even feel like sending him a reply. He'd get the hint sooner or later.
And she was all too well aware of what the "something" that might come up to cancel the plans would be. If her father wanted to start training him today, then he'd dump everything else, including her, to be available. Not that she blamed him. In his position, she'd do the same thing, in a nano-second.
She went into the dinette area, not because she was hungry, but because she didn't have anyplace else to go.
Artoo followed and moved to an out-of-the-way corner.
"Computer, do you have jalani fruit juice?" She might as well take advantage of the luxury of being in a five-star hotel while she could.
"Yes," came the mechanized reply.
"I'd like a glass of jalani fruit juice, please."
A glass dropped down into the food automaton holder, and a stream of pink liquid filled it. Brenna took the glass and sat down at the table.
"Computer, I'd like to hear some music. Kineesh-maj. Volume setting two. This room only, please."
"Selection titles?" asked the computer.
"Random play. Any available titles."
She was still sitting at the table, nursing the same glass of fruit juice, when Luke came in a half hour later, wearing a similar white bathrobe over his sleepwear.
Luke went to the food automaton and voiced in an order for a cup of coffee. A couple seconds later, he sat down at the table with his mug. Brenna drained her glass of fruit juice, which had remained untouched until then.
"Morning, Sweetheart," Luke said.
"'Morning." Brenna said, without much enthusiasm. "Computer, stop music."
"That's all right," Luke said. "I don't mind."
"I thought you didn't like Kineesh-maj."
"It's not my favorite by any means, but you were listening to it. Computer, resume play."
"Computer, stop play. I'm getting bored with it, anyway." She picked up her glass and put it in the reclaimer. She didn't tell her father about the message. If he hadn't already seen that there was a message waiting, she didn't feel obligated to inform him."
"I think I'll go to the Senate and watch the proceedings. Want to come with me?"
"Thanks, but I'm not much interested in politics." She paused for a moment, then turned to face him. "Can I go shopping?"
"Shopping?" Luke looked at her.
Brenna shrugged. "Most of my clothes were destroyed back on Tatooine."
"Oh. Yeah, I guess you can go shopping." He got up and went to the computer. He punched a few keys, and a credit voucher ejected from the slot. He went to the counter, set the card down, and slid it over to her. Then he sat back at the table.
"How much can I spend?"
Luke shrugged. "As much as you need to."
"Ooooh. Carte blanche. This could be fun."
Luke favored her with his most fatherly reproving expression. "Be reasonable about it. And take Artoo with you."
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Artoo beeped as Brenna passed by a shop window filled with colorful outfits. Brenna sighed. "No, not there. Their stuff's too, uh, flashy."
Artoo whistled and beeped, and Brenna barely looked at the shop across the walkway. "No, too plain."
The 'droid made a short series of sounds.
"Something in between, of course. Not too flashy, not too plain."
Timing was going to be important, if she was going to ditch the 'droid. But the nice thing about 'droids was, they were so easy to fool. She saw a stop a little further down, and—glory be!—there was an outfitters right next to the transit stop. Brenna strode towards it and pretended to study the window. "Now that's more like it." As Artoo's visual sensor whirled to the display, Brenna glanced at the schedule posted for the public transport. About ten minutes until the next transport. How lucky could a girl get?
"Oh, yeah," Brenna muttered.
Artoo looked up at her and beeped a query. The style didn't exactly fit what its memory thought she liked. She smiled down at the 'droid. "Perfect."
Artoo followed her inside. Brenna looked around. Actually, some of the stuff wasn't too bad, different from the kinds of things you could get on Tatooine, and she did have a little under ten minutes to kill. She gravitated towards a display of scarves. Artoo whistled.
"No, no, no." she told him. "First, you buy the accessories, and then you buy the outfit to match." One of the scarves caught her attention, and she looked at the price. Not exactly cheap, but what the Hell. She had carte blanche. She inserted her card into the reader attached to the scarf, and it was hers. She draped it around her neck, and then spent seven and a half minutes pretending to look at other things as Artoo followed her around. Then she picked a pants suit that was three sizes too large, pulled it off the rack, and showed it to the 'droid. "See if you can find this in my size, would you?"
Artoo beeped and rolled off towards the racks that were Brenna's size. Brenna strolled towards a rack that was closer to the door. Artoo whistled and held up the requested outfit in the requested size.
"Uh, you know what?" Brenna said, holding up the first thing her hand touched. "I don't think I like it, after all. See if you can find this one, will you?"
As Artoo patiently returned to its task, Brenna glanced at her watch, then strode out the store to the transport stop. It arrived a few seconds after she did, and she stepped aboard. In answer to the computer voice question, she replied, "Main Station." From there, she should have easy access to anywhere she wanted to go. The mechanical voice asked for payment, and she inserted her card.
At the main station, she made an inquiry, and took another transport from there to the Hall of Records, the only place she really wanted to visit on Coruscant.
If she were still under-age, she wouldn't be able to view the records, if they were even here. But she had to check it out. If what Etan Lippa had said was true...
"May I help you?" asked the receptionist at the desk. Human, not 'droid. That could be either good or bad.
"Uh, I hope so," Brenna said. "I think I was born here, on Coruscant. I'd, uh, like to see my birth record."
"Do you know your birth name?"
"First name Brenna. Last name Skywalker."
"Please place your palm on the reader."
Brenna touched her hand on the reader, and the human smiled. "It will just be a few minutes while the computer searches the records."
Brenna nodded, and took a seat across from the receptionist.
It took longer than a few minutes. Brenna tried to control her impatience, but her toes tapped impatiently inside her boots. After about ten minutes, the receptionist favored Brenna with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Miss, but we have no record matching your palm print with the last name Skywalker."
Brenna nodded, relieved, and stood up to leave.
"That's why it took us so long to find it."
Brenna stopped in her tracks. "You have a match?"
"We do, indeed. There's a charge of thirteen-two credits, if you'd like to view the record."
The fact that she'd be allowed to see it meant that she had reached her majority, after all. Brenna handed over the credit card. The woman scanned it, then returned it to her. "Right this way," she smiled and held an arm towards a doorway. It was moments like this that made her job worthwhile, helping orphans find their identities.
Brenna followed her to a carrel. The receptionist entered a code into the keypad, and the screen glowed to life. Brenna thanked her and then turned her attention to the screen.
The first thing she looked for was her mother's name. "Briande Brellis," she murmured. "Unmarried." That was odd. Her father had referred to her mother as his 'wife.' No, wait. He had said that they had lived 'as' husband and wife, not that they 'were' husband and wife. Semantics.
Brenna scanned the rest of the record. Briande Brellis gave birth to one live female child on—her eyes locked on the date. Etan Lippa was right. Her father had lied to her even about that! A little further down, the child's name was listed as "Brenna." Well, no surprise there. The father's name—not listed. Interesting. That explained why the name 'Skywalker' was not connected to the record.
Brenna returned to the beginning of the document and read it all the way through carefully, but there was nothing else to learn. She went back to the receptionist.
"Can I get a copy of that record?"
"Twenty credits."
Brenna handed over the credit card and was given a tiny disk in return.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course. That's why I'm here."
"How secure are these records?"
"What do you mean?"
"Is there any way to, uh, falsify them? For example, if, um, Senator Organa-Solo herself wanted to hide or suppress something, would she be able to do it?"
The receptionist smiled reassuringly. "What we have here for public view are copies only. The originals are stored in a vault which is accessible only by the record 'droids, which are sealed inside. All the equipment is read-only. If there's ever any question, one can always ask for the original to be re-transmitted. Even Mon Mothma herself couldn't alter the originals."
"Good." Brenna murmured. She thought for a second, then asked, "Where do I go to get work papers?"
"Right here. Twenty credits."
"Palm print again, to match me with my birth record?"
"Yes. But if you want, for an additional thirteen-two credits, we can also include a genetic record match."
"I want," Brenna told her.
.
.
.
Reese Draylin, captain of the ore ship Miner's Lady, escorted his newest employee to the small compartment that served as a crew lounge. She was young, younger than he liked for crew members, but just the right age for other things. Plus, she was desperate to get off-world, and desperate people came cheap.
The other nice thing about desperate crew members was that if one could find the cause of their desperation, one might have a useful tool for blackmail. It could net a tidy little profit from either the employee or the ones that wanted him/her, or keep a cheap worker cheap, or convince a tempting morsel like this one that the best way to keep his mouth shut was to keep other parts of him busy. He liked 'em desperate. The more desperate the better.
She'd hired on as a mechanic, for a ridiculously low wage. The only stipulations she'd made in her contract were that she could break off the contract at any port of call, and that she had private sleeping quarters with a door she could lock. Well, he had a closet he could stick her in, at least for the time being. Contracts could be changed, renegotiated, and if she could break it off at any port of call, so could he. The mines were harsh, unfriendly places, and given the choice between being stranded or renegotiating a few extra "duties," he figured she had enough sense to know where her best interests lay—if it even took that long. His crew was not exactly as well-mannered as that of a passenger transport. He'd bet money that she'd be coming to him for protection before the day was out. Besides, whatever else she was, she was a half-decent mechanic, and he could use her technical skills. She'd fixed a faulty servo as her "interview," and he might have hired her based on that alone, even without her good looks.
Draylin pointed to the tiny compartment where four of the five other crew members were sitting. "Go introduce yourself," he told her, "and strap yourself in. We're lifting off as soon as we get clearance."
Brenna stowed her satchel in an empty bin and hooked the netting across it. Then she adjusted the scarf around her neck and went to the couch where one of the crewmen had slid over to make room for her. There were three other men besides the one who had made room for her, one other woman, all of them expressionless except the one that had slid over for her, and he eyed her with a leer.
Despite the shapeless mechanics jump suit, the crewman could see that the new employee had a nice figure.
Brenna gave her crewmates a cursory glance. She'd hoped to find an ally in the woman, at least, but there was none. Her sagging features were as unfriendly and uncaring as the men's. Brenna was careful to keep her own face neutral. Nor did she address any crewmate in particular. "Brenna," she said. "Mechanic." She knew enough about the kind of people she was hooking up with not to say more.
The crewman who had slid over now slid back next to her, until his thigh was touching hers. Brenna knew she was going to have to do something about him. She was armed, but wasn't sure she wanted to reveal that fact yet. Just in case, her opposite hand slid down to her boot top. In the meantime, she favored the crewman with a "hands off" expression.
He grinned and put his hand on the top of her thigh.
That made Brenna's mind up for her. She left the knife where it was and instead covered his hand with her near hand, then quickly brought up her other hand to grab his wrist to apply leverage, and bent his hand backwards in a simple submission hold her father had taught her years ago. She bent the wrist almost to the point of breaking it, causing the crewman to gasp. Then she stood up, forcing him to a prone position on the couch.
"Let me clarify what I said earlier, she said, looking at the crewman, and at the other crew members as well. "My name is Brenna. Brenna Brellis. Perhaps you've heard of the name. If not, I suggest you look up Croyus Four in your history libraries. If you have them. I was named after the administrator there. I'm a mechanic. I fix things, not people. People, I break." She emphasized each point by applying a little more pressure, and the crewman with the roaming hands cried out with each application. "Any questions?"
The crewman who had touched her rapidly shook his head no. He had no questions. He understood perfectly. Brenna released her hold on him, and he quickly slid back over, giving her plenty of room.
Brenna let out a mental sigh of relief, careful not to let it show on the outside, and sat back down. If they ganged up on her, she might have a little bit of a problem, but she could deal with it. She just didn’t like messes. Blasters were out of the question, since they could cause serious damage to the ship whose thin hull was the only protection from the deadliness of space. But she had a small arsenal of close-range defensive weapons, including knives, stun pens, chemicals to temporarily blind an attacker, and others—many of which were invisible to weapon detection scanners—for emergency purposes. Most were left over from her jaunt in Mos Eisley—so long ago now, it seemed—but a couple she had picked up earlier that day. She'd also bought two work jumpsuits, two tamper-proof locks for her cabin, some miscellaneous toiletries, and a toolkit. Nothing else. She intended to pay her father back every credit she'd rung up, and aside from the scarf, she’d purposefully kept her charges to a minimum.
.
.
.
"Brenna?" Luke entered the suite holding a copy of the new constitution, along with a personalized message to Brenna from each of the senators they'd rescued.
"Bren?" he called again.
There was no answer. Luke went to the door to her bedroom and knocked on it. "Sweetheart? I have something for you."
There was still no response. Frowning, Luke pressed the button beside the door, and it slid open.
She wasn't there.
Artoo was, however.
He was sitting in the middle of the floor, motionless and silent. Deactivated.
Luke's frown lines deepened. He bent down and touched a switch. Instantly the little 'droid came to life. Lights went on, gears whirred, his dome spun, and whistles and beeps emitted from his sound processors.
"Take it easy," Luke murmured. 'Droids hated to be switched off, if 'droid emotion could be equated with 'hate.' "Where's Brenna?"
Artoo whistled a response that was not satisfactory.
"All right, then, do you have any idea where she might be?"
R2-D2 rocked back and forth on two legs, beeping and whistling.
Luke stared. "What do you mean you can't tell me?"
Artoo chirped.
"She knows your access code? How did she get hold of that?"
doooooo-whEEEt! Artoo answered.
"All right, all right. Did she change your registry while she was about it, or am I still your legal owner?"
Artoo beeped.
"Good. Then tell me, are there any conditions under which you can tell me Brenna's message?"
The answer Artoo gave almost made Luke smile. The nice things about 'droids was, they were so easy to fool.
"Artoo," said Luke. "what time is it?"
Artoo answered the correct time, to the nanosecond.
"No, Artoo. You're about three hours behind. The correct time is nineteen hundred thirty. Update. Code Delta Epsilon Beta Alpha Theta."
Artoo updated to the incorrect time.
"Now, Artoo, do you have a message for me?"
One of Artoo's lights glowed more brightly than the others, and the 'droid's dome spun so that the light was aimed towards the surface of the table next to him. A small, three-dimensional hologram took shape, a miniature version of Brenna.
"Dad," she said. "By the time you get this message, I'll be out of your hair. Don't worry, I won't forget my promise, and I know how to take care of myself. If you don't mind, I'll keep the credit card. You can cancel it, of course, but I thought it might come in handy in case of emergency. I'll pay you back as soon as I can. Tell Rupert that I would have liked to get to know him better." Here, she hesitated. "No, never mind. On second thought, don't tell him anything. I'm sure he'll make a good student." She hesitated again, then forced a smile. "Well, gotta go, or I'll miss my ride. Take care." She bent down to turn a switch, and the image dissolved into nothing.
Luke's eyes snapped from the tabletop to the 'droid like a dry twig. "How long ago was that message recorded? I mean, what time did you have when that message was recorded?"
Artoo whistled an answer.
His master bolted to a communications pad and stabbed in a number. Without hesitating, he punctuated it with the "Emergency Send" button.
"Come on, come on," he muttered, although the wait was only a couple of seconds before Leia's image came on the screen. "Luke, what's—"
He didn't wait for her to finish. "Leia, I need you to suspend any further spaceport departures."
"Are you out of your mind? I can't do that!"
"You're the only one who can! And I need you to do it right now!"
"Are you going to tell me why? I can't just stop all traffic without any reason."
"Brenna's on one of those ships. If you need more than that, say...you have reason to believe a young woman's been kidnapped. All right?"
Leia's expression changed to concern. "I'll see what I can do. Hold on." She pressed a button on her end, and the screen dissolved into a "standby" message.
Luke clenched his teeth impatiently as he waited for Leia to get back to him. He wished he had the astro-mech 'droid's ability to wait. Thinking of Artoo and waiting and time reminded him of something. "Oh, yeah. Artoo, I could have been wrong about the time. As soon as you're not busy with anything else, I want you to contact the central computer to find out the correct time, and run a self-diagnostic to make sure your internal clock is calibrated correctly. Oh, and by the way, your new access code is, uh, Alpha Lambda Phi Omega. Access may be gained on my voice-command only. Got it?"
Artoo whirred.
"Good."
The communications screen came back to life. "Luke," said his sister, "you owe me one enormously huge favor, which I now owe to the Minister of Transportation. All out-bound traffic has been stopped. How long I can keep it that way, I don't know."
"I'm about to owe you another enormously huge favor. I need to see the passenger lists and crew manifests for all departing ships, and I need them now."
"I'm on it."
.
.
.
"You!" Captain Draylin pointed to Brenna. "Come with me!"
Brenna dared not disobey the captain, not on her first trip, and especially when they hadn't even left port yet, but she didn't much like being singled out. "Should I bring a toolbox?" she asked. Maybe there was a mechanical reason for the delay.
"No. Your gear."
Brenna definitely didn't like this. Being told to bring her gear could only mean one thing. "My father found me?" she asked. She should never have recorded that holo, but it just hadn't felt right to go without leaving a message. But how could he have gotten it so quickly? She had used Artoo's access codes to make sure he wouldn't see it until well after she'd left, and had turned Artoo off, for good measure. She should have known that Luke Skywalker would be able to find out about the message and find a way to access it.
"Looks that way," Draylin answered. "You should have told me you were a minor."
"I signed up to work a mining ship, but I'm not underage. You saw my work papers. They're genuine. Would you like to see them again?"
"Not especially."
Brenna was running out of options. She stopped and pulled the scarf out from the top of her coveralls. "Captain—"
Draylin stopped, turned, and looked.
Brenna lowered the zipper a little, never taking her eyes off the captain. "Why don't you take another look at those documents. Verify them, if you like. They're genuine. I'm a legal adult, capable of making my own decisions. My father has no legal authority over me." Her hand pulled the zipper lower still, revealing more skin.
Reese Draylin was not immune. He gazed at the exposed flesh for a long moment before lifting his gaze to her face. "What kind of jail-bait are you?" he asked.
"I'm not any kind of jail-bait. I'm a legal adult. See for yourself. Genetic confirmation by the Hall of Records, and everything." She reached into her pocket, pulled out the disk, and held it out to him, eyes never leaving his.
Captain Draylin smiled and took the disk, then bent his head down, wrapped his fingers in her hair to pull her head back, and kissed her. Brenna closed her eyes and tried to imagine he was somebody else. Anybody else. Rupert, maybe. But the miner's mouth was hard and demanding, not seeking for permission or response, as Rupert's had been. But Brenna was a good actress, and she was willing to do anything—anything!—to get offworld and away from her father. She gave Draylin back a little of what he wanted, returning just enough to give him the promise of more, and let him break it off first.
Reese Draylin smiled again. "Well, maybe it will be worth a few minutes to check this out, after all."
"Why don't you?" Brenna encouraged, answering his smile with one of her own.
"Wait here." Draylin released his hold on her hair and went forward to the next compartment. When he was gone, Brenna closed her eyes, let out a deep breath, and leaned against the bulkhead.
And she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
.
.
.
Luke began to grow concerned when the captain of Miner's Lady didn't immediately produce Brenna. And when the miner did return, he was alone. Brenna wasn't with him. The fact that Reese Draylin was smiling didn't help matters any.
Draylin had a portable computer in his right hand and turned it to show Luke the screen. "I just had her work-permit verified. Brenna Brellis, my new mechanic, is legally an adult."
Luke didn't let a hint of any emotion register on her face. "Oh, did I say she was a minor? Silly me, I meant to say she was wanted by the police."
Reese Draylin's expression and tone made it clear that he wasn't fooled. "Wanted for what?"
"Oh, I'll think of something. Theft, probably." He tsked and shook his head. "Kids, these days. You just can't trust 'em. Stole my credit card, just this morning, as a matter of fact."
Reese Draylin didn't flinch. "No one's going to buy that story. Why don't we just take a walk to the nearest public authority's office, and get the whole thing straightened out?"
Luke's smile was that of a predator just before he pounced on his prey. "We could do that," he agreed, "But, you know, these things sometimes take time. Days, weeks, maybe even months. And in the meanwhile, I imagine that your ship will probably have to be impounded. They'll probably have to do an audit of all your records, background checks on every crew member or passenger that's ever set foot inside—I'll bet they'll even want manifests from as far back as ten years ago."
"You can't do that," Reese Draylin said.
"No? Have you tried lifting off recently? As a matter of fact, I think every ship on this planet was grounded until I found that the one I wanted was yours. I'll bet I can keep you here for a very, very, very long time."
Reese Draylin knew where his best interests lay. "Just a minute," he said.
"Take all the time you want," Luke replied, still smiling his venomous smile. "I've got no place else to go."
.
.
.
Brenna painted on a smile when Reese Draylin came back to where he'd left her. "Is he gone?"
"Maybe." The miner stood close to her, and his hand started to slide inside her jumpsuit.
Brenna caught his wrist and pulled his hand out.
"You don't get any more until we're off-world," she told him. "After that, if you don't like what I have to offer, you can always turn around and bring me back."
Reese Draylin shrugged and withdrew his hand. "In that case, get off my ship."
Brenna's expression darkened. "You're giving me over?"
"He says you're wanted by the police."
"If my father has any documents to that effect, they're falsified, illegal forgeries."
Reese Draylin shrugged again. "Whatever. You're just not worth the trouble of keeping."
Brenna quickly redid the top of her jumpsuit and threw the scarf back around her neck. "I guess you'll never know, will you?" she retorted.
"Guess not." He grabbed her by the hair with one hand, picked up her satchel with the other, and hauled her to the gangplank. There, he unceremoniously tossed her bag to the ground below, and gave her a shove down the ramp.
Luke caught her, but she quickly pulled away from him.
"I assume I can take off now?" Reese Draylin asked.
"Have a good flight," Luke replied, with a wave.
"Hey, Jail-bait!" Reese Draylin called.
Brenna looked up. He tossed the disk with her work-permit to her, and she caught it.
"Maybe next time, Baby," he said.
"Yeah, maybe," Brenna retorted. "Maybe not!" She shoved the disk deep into her pocket and marched away as Draylin strode back inside his ship.
Brenna picked up her satchel and kept going, not waiting for her father.
Luke spoke a brief message into his wrist band, to release the hold he'd put on traffic control, then caught up to his daughter. "What the Hell were you doing back there?"
She didn't pause or slow down. "Trying to get a job. Thank you so much for ruining it for me."
Luke ignored the sarcasm. "What, in the mines?"
"On the ship."
"With the likes of him? There's only one thing someone like him wants from someone like you."
"He needed a mechanic. I wouldn't have had to offer anything more, if you hadn't come spoiling everything. Even then, it would have been a small enough price to pay for passage offworld. Now I'm stuck here until I can find something else."
"Brenna, do you have any idea what could happen to you on a ship like that?"
"I can take care of myself, thank you. You taught me how, in case you've forgotten. And by the way, when were you planning to tell me that I became a legal adult two weeks ago, and that I no longer have to remain in your custody?"
Luke's face was grim. "I'm only trying to protect you."
"I don't want your protection. I want to get the Hell out of here."
That obvious fact finally began to register with Luke, and he stopped, pulling her arm to draw her to a halt with him. "Why?"
Brenna spun around to face him, and Luke was caught off guard by the overwhelming wave of anger, and frustration, and resentment that emanated from her in the Force.
"Why?" She looked at him, and her eyes, her face, her entire being was anguished. "Do you think I want to stick around and watch you train Rupert? I mean, I understand why you’re not training me, I really do. But if I stay any longer, it'll kill me. If I leave, I might even be able to keep my promise about not using the Force."
For the first time, Luke finally realized the pain Brenna was feeling. He could see it in her face, hear it in her voice, and even feel it in the Force. It was a pain as real as any torture Etan Lippa had inflicted on the Jedi in the trophy room, but it was Brenna who was feeling it. And for the first time, Luke understood that Brenna was fully cognizant of what could and probably would happen to her on a ship like Miner's Lady.
Something behind Luke suddenly caught Brenna's attention, and without saying another word, she walked towards it quickly. Luke turned to see what she had seen, and realized she was headed for a spaceport security 'droid.
"Officer!" Brenna called, raising her arm.
Luke caught up to her and pulled her arm back down. "What are you doing?"
"I'm turning myself in," Brenna replied as the 'droid started crossing towards them. "If I really am wanted, they'll throw me in jail. If not, I'll get a restraining order against you and then jump planet. Either way, I get away from you."
She was perfectly serious. The 'droid was almost upon them. Luke had just one chance to keep her from doing something incredibly stupid. "What about an alternative?"
"I don't see any alternatives," Brenna said.
The 'droid rolled up. "Is there a problem?" it asked in a monotone mechanical voice.
"No problem," Luke said. Then to his daughter, "What about the Academy?"
The 'droid did not give up easily. It was programmed to respond to what looked like an argument taking place between two individuals, one of whom had signaled to get his attention. "I must legally inform you that my visual and auditory sensors are monitored by human security personnel."
"What about it?" Brenna asked, ignoring the 'droid.
Luke ignored it, too. "Other students your own age, no Captain Draylins, you even have one friend there already in Lucy. Paradise, compared to a mining ship."
The 'droid interrupted. "Human security personnel are en route to this location."
Brenna paid no attention. "I haven’t even taken the entrance exam yet. By the time I filed an application and they processed it, it'd be six months before I got in, minimum. I can't wait that long."
Luke spoke into his wrist communicator. "Call off the security 'droid in, uh," he looked around for a marker, "sector HT-12, will you? I'd like a little privacy." He waited for the 'droid to roll away.
"My, my," Brenna commented. "Even the security 'droids obey your every command. I wonder what would happen if I started screaming."
"Don't try it until you've heard me out."
"Talk fast."
"All right. I think I can pull a few strings to speed up the application process to get you into the Academy. The next semester starts in two weeks. Surely you can wait that long."
"Two weeks?" Brenna said doubtfully, certain that her father was up to something.
"Two weeks. You can use the time to shop for the things you'll need and choose a major."
"What about the money? The Academy isn't free."
"In case you haven't noticed," Luke said dryly, "your aunt is rich. Besides, I have enough money to cover tuition and expenses. Even guaco beans bring in some profit, you know."
"So we're not really as poor as you've led me to believe all this time?"
"No," Luke admitted.
Brenna let out a breath of disbelief and turned away. "And I stuck it out on Tatooine because I felt sorry for you? I can't believe I did that! If I had known you didn't really need me to help with the crops, I'd have lit out years ago, work permit or not!"
"Brenna—"
"No!" She turned back and stabbed a forefinger through the air in his direction. "Don't say anything else. I'll stick it out for two weeks, but not a minute longer. I don't care about the major. You pick it. But in two weeks, if I'm not out of here and away from you, then believe me, I'll find some other way off this planet—even if the next captain isn't as nice as Draylin was. In the meantime, I want someplace else to stay, where I don't have to see you, or Rupert, or talk with you, or anything."
She strode purposefully to the security 'droid without waiting for his response. "May I help you?" it asked.
Brenna nodded. "Yes. I need a place to stay. For two weeks. Can you recommend something?"
(The End)
Once they had landed on Coruscant, and medical personnel had taken over the care of the still-blind senators, Luke went looking for his daughter.
She and Rupert were in the process of finishing a damage inspection on the Falcon when they saw him coming.
“Great,” Brenna muttered.
“I’ll take the heat,” Rupert told her.
“No,” Brenna said, holding up a staying hand. “I can handle it.”
She walked to meet her father with her head held high, not even knowing that Rupert was behind her until she heard his voice saying. “The Falcon is my ship, sir, and I captained her the way I saw fit.”
Luke fixed him with ice-blue eyes. “Then you’re an idiot.”
Brenna was about to second the motion when she noticed Han approaching. She was annoyed at Rupert for butting in when she had specifically told him to stay out, and decided to return the favor. “But it was my idea!” she called out, loud enough for Han to hear.
Han paid no attention. He gave his son a bear-hug, which was readily returned.
Luke's back was to Rupert and Han. He didn't see the hug. “Brenna—“ Luke said.
She looked from Han and Rupert to her father, who had offered her no such tokens of affection, then began to walk away.
He hurried to catch up with her. “All I want to know is why.”
Brenna didn’t slow her pace. “I figured the Star Destroyer should be on our side rather than Etan Lippa’s. It would have been, too, if you and your friend hadn't gotten involved. Don't you think we could have used a Star Destroyer?”
“Not at the cost of your life!”
“Rupert and I were perfectly safe...until the shuttle got involved, anyway. And even then, the danger was minimal.”
“Minimal?” Luke echoed in disbelief. “You could have been killed!”
“Hardly. Etan Lippa blew up his own Star Destroyer rather than risk my getting hurt.”
“He blew it up?”
“Did I stutter?”
“Then he really does want you alive.”
“Duh!” Brenna responded, still moving.
“Why? Why would he let you go free? Why would he blow up a Star Destroyer rather than let you crash?”
“He wants me to be his girlfriend,” Brenna said cheerfully. “I can’t do that if I’m dead.”
Luke stared at her, then caught her arm to stop her. “What...was your response?”
“Really, Dad, I should think my answer would be obvious. But he seems to think that he can convince me to change my mind, and as long as he thinks that, I’m perfectly safe.” She pulled away and started to resume walking back to the Falcon.
“Brenna—”
She looked back, and saw him open his arms and take a step towards her, offering her the hug that Rupert’s father had given him straightway.
Brenna turned, and strode away.
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Brenna woke early, pulled on the white bathrobe her aunt Leia had provided along with the suite, and went into the living area. Artoo watched silently from his place in the corner.
Her father wasn't up yet, but there was already a message on the recorder. The red light blinked on and off one time, paused, and blinked again. One message. It had been recorded during the night, but the sender had deactivated the "alert" function, and so the mail had been received silently.
"Computer, play message," she said.
Rupert's face appeared on the screen. Smiling.
Hell, she'd be smiling, too, if she were in his shoes. He'd gotten his mother back, retrieved the other senators, and he was going to be trained.
"Good morning," Rupert said. "Didn't want to wake either of you, and I don’t know what time you get up, so I'm recording this. Luke, I'm at your disposal. Brenna, I'd like to show you some of my homeworld, after seeing some of yours. If you've got nothing better to do, this afternoon would be good, unless something comes up. You know where to find me. Don't be afraid of calling too early, or too late. Or if you don't like tours, there's always the hover-rink. Or anything else you want to do. Please say 'yes.' I'd really like to go out with you again." That was the end of the message.
Brenna sighed. "Computer, rewind message."
The message was instantaneously rewound.
"Computer, replay message until stop."
Rupert's smiling face appeared again. "Good morning. Didn't want to wake either of you, so I'm recording this. Luke, I'm at your disposal—"
"Stop." Brenna said.
The message froze.
"Computer, delete rest of message. No reply. Reset and rewind."
The red light blinked dutifully once again. Brenna left the part of the message intended for her father intact, but saw no reason to leave her private messages on display for him. Not that it mattered. She had no intention of going out with Rupert again. She didn't even feel like sending him a reply. He'd get the hint sooner or later.
And she was all too well aware of what the "something" that might come up to cancel the plans would be. If her father wanted to start training him today, then he'd dump everything else, including her, to be available. Not that she blamed him. In his position, she'd do the same thing, in a nano-second.
She went into the dinette area, not because she was hungry, but because she didn't have anyplace else to go.
Artoo followed and moved to an out-of-the-way corner.
"Computer, do you have jalani fruit juice?" She might as well take advantage of the luxury of being in a five-star hotel while she could.
"Yes," came the mechanized reply.
"I'd like a glass of jalani fruit juice, please."
A glass dropped down into the food automaton holder, and a stream of pink liquid filled it. Brenna took the glass and sat down at the table.
"Computer, I'd like to hear some music. Kineesh-maj. Volume setting two. This room only, please."
"Selection titles?" asked the computer.
"Random play. Any available titles."
She was still sitting at the table, nursing the same glass of fruit juice, when Luke came in a half hour later, wearing a similar white bathrobe over his sleepwear.
Luke went to the food automaton and voiced in an order for a cup of coffee. A couple seconds later, he sat down at the table with his mug. Brenna drained her glass of fruit juice, which had remained untouched until then.
"Morning, Sweetheart," Luke said.
"'Morning." Brenna said, without much enthusiasm. "Computer, stop music."
"That's all right," Luke said. "I don't mind."
"I thought you didn't like Kineesh-maj."
"It's not my favorite by any means, but you were listening to it. Computer, resume play."
"Computer, stop play. I'm getting bored with it, anyway." She picked up her glass and put it in the reclaimer. She didn't tell her father about the message. If he hadn't already seen that there was a message waiting, she didn't feel obligated to inform him."
"I think I'll go to the Senate and watch the proceedings. Want to come with me?"
"Thanks, but I'm not much interested in politics." She paused for a moment, then turned to face him. "Can I go shopping?"
"Shopping?" Luke looked at her.
Brenna shrugged. "Most of my clothes were destroyed back on Tatooine."
"Oh. Yeah, I guess you can go shopping." He got up and went to the computer. He punched a few keys, and a credit voucher ejected from the slot. He went to the counter, set the card down, and slid it over to her. Then he sat back at the table.
"How much can I spend?"
Luke shrugged. "As much as you need to."
"Ooooh. Carte blanche. This could be fun."
Luke favored her with his most fatherly reproving expression. "Be reasonable about it. And take Artoo with you."
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Artoo beeped as Brenna passed by a shop window filled with colorful outfits. Brenna sighed. "No, not there. Their stuff's too, uh, flashy."
Artoo whistled and beeped, and Brenna barely looked at the shop across the walkway. "No, too plain."
The 'droid made a short series of sounds.
"Something in between, of course. Not too flashy, not too plain."
Timing was going to be important, if she was going to ditch the 'droid. But the nice thing about 'droids was, they were so easy to fool. She saw a stop a little further down, and—glory be!—there was an outfitters right next to the transit stop. Brenna strode towards it and pretended to study the window. "Now that's more like it." As Artoo's visual sensor whirled to the display, Brenna glanced at the schedule posted for the public transport. About ten minutes until the next transport. How lucky could a girl get?
"Oh, yeah," Brenna muttered.
Artoo looked up at her and beeped a query. The style didn't exactly fit what its memory thought she liked. She smiled down at the 'droid. "Perfect."
Artoo followed her inside. Brenna looked around. Actually, some of the stuff wasn't too bad, different from the kinds of things you could get on Tatooine, and she did have a little under ten minutes to kill. She gravitated towards a display of scarves. Artoo whistled.
"No, no, no." she told him. "First, you buy the accessories, and then you buy the outfit to match." One of the scarves caught her attention, and she looked at the price. Not exactly cheap, but what the Hell. She had carte blanche. She inserted her card into the reader attached to the scarf, and it was hers. She draped it around her neck, and then spent seven and a half minutes pretending to look at other things as Artoo followed her around. Then she picked a pants suit that was three sizes too large, pulled it off the rack, and showed it to the 'droid. "See if you can find this in my size, would you?"
Artoo beeped and rolled off towards the racks that were Brenna's size. Brenna strolled towards a rack that was closer to the door. Artoo whistled and held up the requested outfit in the requested size.
"Uh, you know what?" Brenna said, holding up the first thing her hand touched. "I don't think I like it, after all. See if you can find this one, will you?"
As Artoo patiently returned to its task, Brenna glanced at her watch, then strode out the store to the transport stop. It arrived a few seconds after she did, and she stepped aboard. In answer to the computer voice question, she replied, "Main Station." From there, she should have easy access to anywhere she wanted to go. The mechanical voice asked for payment, and she inserted her card.
At the main station, she made an inquiry, and took another transport from there to the Hall of Records, the only place she really wanted to visit on Coruscant.
If she were still under-age, she wouldn't be able to view the records, if they were even here. But she had to check it out. If what Etan Lippa had said was true...
"May I help you?" asked the receptionist at the desk. Human, not 'droid. That could be either good or bad.
"Uh, I hope so," Brenna said. "I think I was born here, on Coruscant. I'd, uh, like to see my birth record."
"Do you know your birth name?"
"First name Brenna. Last name Skywalker."
"Please place your palm on the reader."
Brenna touched her hand on the reader, and the human smiled. "It will just be a few minutes while the computer searches the records."
Brenna nodded, and took a seat across from the receptionist.
It took longer than a few minutes. Brenna tried to control her impatience, but her toes tapped impatiently inside her boots. After about ten minutes, the receptionist favored Brenna with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Miss, but we have no record matching your palm print with the last name Skywalker."
Brenna nodded, relieved, and stood up to leave.
"That's why it took us so long to find it."
Brenna stopped in her tracks. "You have a match?"
"We do, indeed. There's a charge of thirteen-two credits, if you'd like to view the record."
The fact that she'd be allowed to see it meant that she had reached her majority, after all. Brenna handed over the credit card. The woman scanned it, then returned it to her. "Right this way," she smiled and held an arm towards a doorway. It was moments like this that made her job worthwhile, helping orphans find their identities.
Brenna followed her to a carrel. The receptionist entered a code into the keypad, and the screen glowed to life. Brenna thanked her and then turned her attention to the screen.
The first thing she looked for was her mother's name. "Briande Brellis," she murmured. "Unmarried." That was odd. Her father had referred to her mother as his 'wife.' No, wait. He had said that they had lived 'as' husband and wife, not that they 'were' husband and wife. Semantics.
Brenna scanned the rest of the record. Briande Brellis gave birth to one live female child on—her eyes locked on the date. Etan Lippa was right. Her father had lied to her even about that! A little further down, the child's name was listed as "Brenna." Well, no surprise there. The father's name—not listed. Interesting. That explained why the name 'Skywalker' was not connected to the record.
Brenna returned to the beginning of the document and read it all the way through carefully, but there was nothing else to learn. She went back to the receptionist.
"Can I get a copy of that record?"
"Twenty credits."
Brenna handed over the credit card and was given a tiny disk in return.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course. That's why I'm here."
"How secure are these records?"
"What do you mean?"
"Is there any way to, uh, falsify them? For example, if, um, Senator Organa-Solo herself wanted to hide or suppress something, would she be able to do it?"
The receptionist smiled reassuringly. "What we have here for public view are copies only. The originals are stored in a vault which is accessible only by the record 'droids, which are sealed inside. All the equipment is read-only. If there's ever any question, one can always ask for the original to be re-transmitted. Even Mon Mothma herself couldn't alter the originals."
"Good." Brenna murmured. She thought for a second, then asked, "Where do I go to get work papers?"
"Right here. Twenty credits."
"Palm print again, to match me with my birth record?"
"Yes. But if you want, for an additional thirteen-two credits, we can also include a genetic record match."
"I want," Brenna told her.
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Reese Draylin, captain of the ore ship Miner's Lady, escorted his newest employee to the small compartment that served as a crew lounge. She was young, younger than he liked for crew members, but just the right age for other things. Plus, she was desperate to get off-world, and desperate people came cheap.
The other nice thing about desperate crew members was that if one could find the cause of their desperation, one might have a useful tool for blackmail. It could net a tidy little profit from either the employee or the ones that wanted him/her, or keep a cheap worker cheap, or convince a tempting morsel like this one that the best way to keep his mouth shut was to keep other parts of him busy. He liked 'em desperate. The more desperate the better.
She'd hired on as a mechanic, for a ridiculously low wage. The only stipulations she'd made in her contract were that she could break off the contract at any port of call, and that she had private sleeping quarters with a door she could lock. Well, he had a closet he could stick her in, at least for the time being. Contracts could be changed, renegotiated, and if she could break it off at any port of call, so could he. The mines were harsh, unfriendly places, and given the choice between being stranded or renegotiating a few extra "duties," he figured she had enough sense to know where her best interests lay—if it even took that long. His crew was not exactly as well-mannered as that of a passenger transport. He'd bet money that she'd be coming to him for protection before the day was out. Besides, whatever else she was, she was a half-decent mechanic, and he could use her technical skills. She'd fixed a faulty servo as her "interview," and he might have hired her based on that alone, even without her good looks.
Draylin pointed to the tiny compartment where four of the five other crew members were sitting. "Go introduce yourself," he told her, "and strap yourself in. We're lifting off as soon as we get clearance."
Brenna stowed her satchel in an empty bin and hooked the netting across it. Then she adjusted the scarf around her neck and went to the couch where one of the crewmen had slid over to make room for her. There were three other men besides the one who had made room for her, one other woman, all of them expressionless except the one that had slid over for her, and he eyed her with a leer.
Despite the shapeless mechanics jump suit, the crewman could see that the new employee had a nice figure.
Brenna gave her crewmates a cursory glance. She'd hoped to find an ally in the woman, at least, but there was none. Her sagging features were as unfriendly and uncaring as the men's. Brenna was careful to keep her own face neutral. Nor did she address any crewmate in particular. "Brenna," she said. "Mechanic." She knew enough about the kind of people she was hooking up with not to say more.
The crewman who had slid over now slid back next to her, until his thigh was touching hers. Brenna knew she was going to have to do something about him. She was armed, but wasn't sure she wanted to reveal that fact yet. Just in case, her opposite hand slid down to her boot top. In the meantime, she favored the crewman with a "hands off" expression.
He grinned and put his hand on the top of her thigh.
That made Brenna's mind up for her. She left the knife where it was and instead covered his hand with her near hand, then quickly brought up her other hand to grab his wrist to apply leverage, and bent his hand backwards in a simple submission hold her father had taught her years ago. She bent the wrist almost to the point of breaking it, causing the crewman to gasp. Then she stood up, forcing him to a prone position on the couch.
"Let me clarify what I said earlier, she said, looking at the crewman, and at the other crew members as well. "My name is Brenna. Brenna Brellis. Perhaps you've heard of the name. If not, I suggest you look up Croyus Four in your history libraries. If you have them. I was named after the administrator there. I'm a mechanic. I fix things, not people. People, I break." She emphasized each point by applying a little more pressure, and the crewman with the roaming hands cried out with each application. "Any questions?"
The crewman who had touched her rapidly shook his head no. He had no questions. He understood perfectly. Brenna released her hold on him, and he quickly slid back over, giving her plenty of room.
Brenna let out a mental sigh of relief, careful not to let it show on the outside, and sat back down. If they ganged up on her, she might have a little bit of a problem, but she could deal with it. She just didn’t like messes. Blasters were out of the question, since they could cause serious damage to the ship whose thin hull was the only protection from the deadliness of space. But she had a small arsenal of close-range defensive weapons, including knives, stun pens, chemicals to temporarily blind an attacker, and others—many of which were invisible to weapon detection scanners—for emergency purposes. Most were left over from her jaunt in Mos Eisley—so long ago now, it seemed—but a couple she had picked up earlier that day. She'd also bought two work jumpsuits, two tamper-proof locks for her cabin, some miscellaneous toiletries, and a toolkit. Nothing else. She intended to pay her father back every credit she'd rung up, and aside from the scarf, she’d purposefully kept her charges to a minimum.
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"Brenna?" Luke entered the suite holding a copy of the new constitution, along with a personalized message to Brenna from each of the senators they'd rescued.
"Bren?" he called again.
There was no answer. Luke went to the door to her bedroom and knocked on it. "Sweetheart? I have something for you."
There was still no response. Frowning, Luke pressed the button beside the door, and it slid open.
She wasn't there.
Artoo was, however.
He was sitting in the middle of the floor, motionless and silent. Deactivated.
Luke's frown lines deepened. He bent down and touched a switch. Instantly the little 'droid came to life. Lights went on, gears whirred, his dome spun, and whistles and beeps emitted from his sound processors.
"Take it easy," Luke murmured. 'Droids hated to be switched off, if 'droid emotion could be equated with 'hate.' "Where's Brenna?"
Artoo whistled a response that was not satisfactory.
"All right, then, do you have any idea where she might be?"
R2-D2 rocked back and forth on two legs, beeping and whistling.
Luke stared. "What do you mean you can't tell me?"
Artoo chirped.
"She knows your access code? How did she get hold of that?"
doooooo-whEEEt! Artoo answered.
"All right, all right. Did she change your registry while she was about it, or am I still your legal owner?"
Artoo beeped.
"Good. Then tell me, are there any conditions under which you can tell me Brenna's message?"
The answer Artoo gave almost made Luke smile. The nice things about 'droids was, they were so easy to fool.
"Artoo," said Luke. "what time is it?"
Artoo answered the correct time, to the nanosecond.
"No, Artoo. You're about three hours behind. The correct time is nineteen hundred thirty. Update. Code Delta Epsilon Beta Alpha Theta."
Artoo updated to the incorrect time.
"Now, Artoo, do you have a message for me?"
One of Artoo's lights glowed more brightly than the others, and the 'droid's dome spun so that the light was aimed towards the surface of the table next to him. A small, three-dimensional hologram took shape, a miniature version of Brenna.
"Dad," she said. "By the time you get this message, I'll be out of your hair. Don't worry, I won't forget my promise, and I know how to take care of myself. If you don't mind, I'll keep the credit card. You can cancel it, of course, but I thought it might come in handy in case of emergency. I'll pay you back as soon as I can. Tell Rupert that I would have liked to get to know him better." Here, she hesitated. "No, never mind. On second thought, don't tell him anything. I'm sure he'll make a good student." She hesitated again, then forced a smile. "Well, gotta go, or I'll miss my ride. Take care." She bent down to turn a switch, and the image dissolved into nothing.
Luke's eyes snapped from the tabletop to the 'droid like a dry twig. "How long ago was that message recorded? I mean, what time did you have when that message was recorded?"
Artoo whistled an answer.
His master bolted to a communications pad and stabbed in a number. Without hesitating, he punctuated it with the "Emergency Send" button.
"Come on, come on," he muttered, although the wait was only a couple of seconds before Leia's image came on the screen. "Luke, what's—"
He didn't wait for her to finish. "Leia, I need you to suspend any further spaceport departures."
"Are you out of your mind? I can't do that!"
"You're the only one who can! And I need you to do it right now!"
"Are you going to tell me why? I can't just stop all traffic without any reason."
"Brenna's on one of those ships. If you need more than that, say...you have reason to believe a young woman's been kidnapped. All right?"
Leia's expression changed to concern. "I'll see what I can do. Hold on." She pressed a button on her end, and the screen dissolved into a "standby" message.
Luke clenched his teeth impatiently as he waited for Leia to get back to him. He wished he had the astro-mech 'droid's ability to wait. Thinking of Artoo and waiting and time reminded him of something. "Oh, yeah. Artoo, I could have been wrong about the time. As soon as you're not busy with anything else, I want you to contact the central computer to find out the correct time, and run a self-diagnostic to make sure your internal clock is calibrated correctly. Oh, and by the way, your new access code is, uh, Alpha Lambda Phi Omega. Access may be gained on my voice-command only. Got it?"
Artoo whirred.
"Good."
The communications screen came back to life. "Luke," said his sister, "you owe me one enormously huge favor, which I now owe to the Minister of Transportation. All out-bound traffic has been stopped. How long I can keep it that way, I don't know."
"I'm about to owe you another enormously huge favor. I need to see the passenger lists and crew manifests for all departing ships, and I need them now."
"I'm on it."
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"You!" Captain Draylin pointed to Brenna. "Come with me!"
Brenna dared not disobey the captain, not on her first trip, and especially when they hadn't even left port yet, but she didn't much like being singled out. "Should I bring a toolbox?" she asked. Maybe there was a mechanical reason for the delay.
"No. Your gear."
Brenna definitely didn't like this. Being told to bring her gear could only mean one thing. "My father found me?" she asked. She should never have recorded that holo, but it just hadn't felt right to go without leaving a message. But how could he have gotten it so quickly? She had used Artoo's access codes to make sure he wouldn't see it until well after she'd left, and had turned Artoo off, for good measure. She should have known that Luke Skywalker would be able to find out about the message and find a way to access it.
"Looks that way," Draylin answered. "You should have told me you were a minor."
"I signed up to work a mining ship, but I'm not underage. You saw my work papers. They're genuine. Would you like to see them again?"
"Not especially."
Brenna was running out of options. She stopped and pulled the scarf out from the top of her coveralls. "Captain—"
Draylin stopped, turned, and looked.
Brenna lowered the zipper a little, never taking her eyes off the captain. "Why don't you take another look at those documents. Verify them, if you like. They're genuine. I'm a legal adult, capable of making my own decisions. My father has no legal authority over me." Her hand pulled the zipper lower still, revealing more skin.
Reese Draylin was not immune. He gazed at the exposed flesh for a long moment before lifting his gaze to her face. "What kind of jail-bait are you?" he asked.
"I'm not any kind of jail-bait. I'm a legal adult. See for yourself. Genetic confirmation by the Hall of Records, and everything." She reached into her pocket, pulled out the disk, and held it out to him, eyes never leaving his.
Captain Draylin smiled and took the disk, then bent his head down, wrapped his fingers in her hair to pull her head back, and kissed her. Brenna closed her eyes and tried to imagine he was somebody else. Anybody else. Rupert, maybe. But the miner's mouth was hard and demanding, not seeking for permission or response, as Rupert's had been. But Brenna was a good actress, and she was willing to do anything—anything!—to get offworld and away from her father. She gave Draylin back a little of what he wanted, returning just enough to give him the promise of more, and let him break it off first.
Reese Draylin smiled again. "Well, maybe it will be worth a few minutes to check this out, after all."
"Why don't you?" Brenna encouraged, answering his smile with one of her own.
"Wait here." Draylin released his hold on her hair and went forward to the next compartment. When he was gone, Brenna closed her eyes, let out a deep breath, and leaned against the bulkhead.
And she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
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Luke began to grow concerned when the captain of Miner's Lady didn't immediately produce Brenna. And when the miner did return, he was alone. Brenna wasn't with him. The fact that Reese Draylin was smiling didn't help matters any.
Draylin had a portable computer in his right hand and turned it to show Luke the screen. "I just had her work-permit verified. Brenna Brellis, my new mechanic, is legally an adult."
Luke didn't let a hint of any emotion register on her face. "Oh, did I say she was a minor? Silly me, I meant to say she was wanted by the police."
Reese Draylin's expression and tone made it clear that he wasn't fooled. "Wanted for what?"
"Oh, I'll think of something. Theft, probably." He tsked and shook his head. "Kids, these days. You just can't trust 'em. Stole my credit card, just this morning, as a matter of fact."
Reese Draylin didn't flinch. "No one's going to buy that story. Why don't we just take a walk to the nearest public authority's office, and get the whole thing straightened out?"
Luke's smile was that of a predator just before he pounced on his prey. "We could do that," he agreed, "But, you know, these things sometimes take time. Days, weeks, maybe even months. And in the meanwhile, I imagine that your ship will probably have to be impounded. They'll probably have to do an audit of all your records, background checks on every crew member or passenger that's ever set foot inside—I'll bet they'll even want manifests from as far back as ten years ago."
"You can't do that," Reese Draylin said.
"No? Have you tried lifting off recently? As a matter of fact, I think every ship on this planet was grounded until I found that the one I wanted was yours. I'll bet I can keep you here for a very, very, very long time."
Reese Draylin knew where his best interests lay. "Just a minute," he said.
"Take all the time you want," Luke replied, still smiling his venomous smile. "I've got no place else to go."
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Brenna painted on a smile when Reese Draylin came back to where he'd left her. "Is he gone?"
"Maybe." The miner stood close to her, and his hand started to slide inside her jumpsuit.
Brenna caught his wrist and pulled his hand out.
"You don't get any more until we're off-world," she told him. "After that, if you don't like what I have to offer, you can always turn around and bring me back."
Reese Draylin shrugged and withdrew his hand. "In that case, get off my ship."
Brenna's expression darkened. "You're giving me over?"
"He says you're wanted by the police."
"If my father has any documents to that effect, they're falsified, illegal forgeries."
Reese Draylin shrugged again. "Whatever. You're just not worth the trouble of keeping."
Brenna quickly redid the top of her jumpsuit and threw the scarf back around her neck. "I guess you'll never know, will you?" she retorted.
"Guess not." He grabbed her by the hair with one hand, picked up her satchel with the other, and hauled her to the gangplank. There, he unceremoniously tossed her bag to the ground below, and gave her a shove down the ramp.
Luke caught her, but she quickly pulled away from him.
"I assume I can take off now?" Reese Draylin asked.
"Have a good flight," Luke replied, with a wave.
"Hey, Jail-bait!" Reese Draylin called.
Brenna looked up. He tossed the disk with her work-permit to her, and she caught it.
"Maybe next time, Baby," he said.
"Yeah, maybe," Brenna retorted. "Maybe not!" She shoved the disk deep into her pocket and marched away as Draylin strode back inside his ship.
Brenna picked up her satchel and kept going, not waiting for her father.
Luke spoke a brief message into his wrist band, to release the hold he'd put on traffic control, then caught up to his daughter. "What the Hell were you doing back there?"
She didn't pause or slow down. "Trying to get a job. Thank you so much for ruining it for me."
Luke ignored the sarcasm. "What, in the mines?"
"On the ship."
"With the likes of him? There's only one thing someone like him wants from someone like you."
"He needed a mechanic. I wouldn't have had to offer anything more, if you hadn't come spoiling everything. Even then, it would have been a small enough price to pay for passage offworld. Now I'm stuck here until I can find something else."
"Brenna, do you have any idea what could happen to you on a ship like that?"
"I can take care of myself, thank you. You taught me how, in case you've forgotten. And by the way, when were you planning to tell me that I became a legal adult two weeks ago, and that I no longer have to remain in your custody?"
Luke's face was grim. "I'm only trying to protect you."
"I don't want your protection. I want to get the Hell out of here."
That obvious fact finally began to register with Luke, and he stopped, pulling her arm to draw her to a halt with him. "Why?"
Brenna spun around to face him, and Luke was caught off guard by the overwhelming wave of anger, and frustration, and resentment that emanated from her in the Force.
"Why?" She looked at him, and her eyes, her face, her entire being was anguished. "Do you think I want to stick around and watch you train Rupert? I mean, I understand why you’re not training me, I really do. But if I stay any longer, it'll kill me. If I leave, I might even be able to keep my promise about not using the Force."
For the first time, Luke finally realized the pain Brenna was feeling. He could see it in her face, hear it in her voice, and even feel it in the Force. It was a pain as real as any torture Etan Lippa had inflicted on the Jedi in the trophy room, but it was Brenna who was feeling it. And for the first time, Luke understood that Brenna was fully cognizant of what could and probably would happen to her on a ship like Miner's Lady.
Something behind Luke suddenly caught Brenna's attention, and without saying another word, she walked towards it quickly. Luke turned to see what she had seen, and realized she was headed for a spaceport security 'droid.
"Officer!" Brenna called, raising her arm.
Luke caught up to her and pulled her arm back down. "What are you doing?"
"I'm turning myself in," Brenna replied as the 'droid started crossing towards them. "If I really am wanted, they'll throw me in jail. If not, I'll get a restraining order against you and then jump planet. Either way, I get away from you."
She was perfectly serious. The 'droid was almost upon them. Luke had just one chance to keep her from doing something incredibly stupid. "What about an alternative?"
"I don't see any alternatives," Brenna said.
The 'droid rolled up. "Is there a problem?" it asked in a monotone mechanical voice.
"No problem," Luke said. Then to his daughter, "What about the Academy?"
The 'droid did not give up easily. It was programmed to respond to what looked like an argument taking place between two individuals, one of whom had signaled to get his attention. "I must legally inform you that my visual and auditory sensors are monitored by human security personnel."
"What about it?" Brenna asked, ignoring the 'droid.
Luke ignored it, too. "Other students your own age, no Captain Draylins, you even have one friend there already in Lucy. Paradise, compared to a mining ship."
The 'droid interrupted. "Human security personnel are en route to this location."
Brenna paid no attention. "I haven’t even taken the entrance exam yet. By the time I filed an application and they processed it, it'd be six months before I got in, minimum. I can't wait that long."
Luke spoke into his wrist communicator. "Call off the security 'droid in, uh," he looked around for a marker, "sector HT-12, will you? I'd like a little privacy." He waited for the 'droid to roll away.
"My, my," Brenna commented. "Even the security 'droids obey your every command. I wonder what would happen if I started screaming."
"Don't try it until you've heard me out."
"Talk fast."
"All right. I think I can pull a few strings to speed up the application process to get you into the Academy. The next semester starts in two weeks. Surely you can wait that long."
"Two weeks?" Brenna said doubtfully, certain that her father was up to something.
"Two weeks. You can use the time to shop for the things you'll need and choose a major."
"What about the money? The Academy isn't free."
"In case you haven't noticed," Luke said dryly, "your aunt is rich. Besides, I have enough money to cover tuition and expenses. Even guaco beans bring in some profit, you know."
"So we're not really as poor as you've led me to believe all this time?"
"No," Luke admitted.
Brenna let out a breath of disbelief and turned away. "And I stuck it out on Tatooine because I felt sorry for you? I can't believe I did that! If I had known you didn't really need me to help with the crops, I'd have lit out years ago, work permit or not!"
"Brenna—"
"No!" She turned back and stabbed a forefinger through the air in his direction. "Don't say anything else. I'll stick it out for two weeks, but not a minute longer. I don't care about the major. You pick it. But in two weeks, if I'm not out of here and away from you, then believe me, I'll find some other way off this planet—even if the next captain isn't as nice as Draylin was. In the meantime, I want someplace else to stay, where I don't have to see you, or Rupert, or talk with you, or anything."
She strode purposefully to the security 'droid without waiting for his response. "May I help you?" it asked.
Brenna nodded. "Yes. I need a place to stay. For two weeks. Can you recommend something?"
(The End)
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About This Story:
I originally published this story on fanfiction.net at https://www.fanfiction.net/s/2020988/1/Skywalker-s-Legacy Some minor editing improvements in this version.
(This is the first story of my "Brenna" stories in my "Croyus Four Chronicles"—a series describing the evolution of Luke's and Briande's daughter Brenna. Why Luke's soul-mate Briande is no longer in the picture will eventually be explained in The Face in the Shadows.)
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Star Wars franchise or any of its characters. I have not been paid for any of the stories posted on FanFiction or elsewhere. What you read here are simply the products of my own imagination based on the universe created by George Lucas. Any characters not in the SW universe (e.g., Brenna, Rupert, Lucy, Etan Lippa etc.) are my own.
If you like this story, please let me know via my "Contact" page. Positive comments stoke my sometimes fragile ego, and help me deal with some of the frustrations encountered in my JFKA work, when I try to convince fellow researchers to "unlearn" the myths of the JFKA and look at the hard evidence. If you don't like this story, well, just keep that to yourself, will you? I'm open to constructive suggestions, but these days I find myself drifting towards the Dark Side, and I don't need anyone pushing me closer.
I originally published this story on fanfiction.net at https://www.fanfiction.net/s/2020988/1/Skywalker-s-Legacy Some minor editing improvements in this version.
(This is the first story of my "Brenna" stories in my "Croyus Four Chronicles"—a series describing the evolution of Luke's and Briande's daughter Brenna. Why Luke's soul-mate Briande is no longer in the picture will eventually be explained in The Face in the Shadows.)
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Star Wars franchise or any of its characters. I have not been paid for any of the stories posted on FanFiction or elsewhere. What you read here are simply the products of my own imagination based on the universe created by George Lucas. Any characters not in the SW universe (e.g., Brenna, Rupert, Lucy, Etan Lippa etc.) are my own.
If you like this story, please let me know via my "Contact" page. Positive comments stoke my sometimes fragile ego, and help me deal with some of the frustrations encountered in my JFKA work, when I try to convince fellow researchers to "unlearn" the myths of the JFKA and look at the hard evidence. If you don't like this story, well, just keep that to yourself, will you? I'm open to constructive suggestions, but these days I find myself drifting towards the Dark Side, and I don't need anyone pushing me closer.
-----
Notes to Self:
Still a bit on the melodramatic side, especially with villain-speech. Solution?
Fixes:
I originally wrote the "Wedge" role here as Wedge. But then the books started to come out, and I changed "Wedge Antilles" (a character across the initial SW trilogy) into "Corran Horn" in my (misguided) attempt to align with some of the early books that came out. I was going to use him as a crossover character in Infinity's Gate. So I switched "Corran Horn" back to "Wedge Antilles," which is who this character was always meant to be. Wedge is a name that would automatically inspire trust in those familiar with the first three trilogy, and a visceral grieving if he was killed off. So goodbye Corran Horn, hello Wedge Antilles.
Wedge/Corran sent a note with Rupert, but in the FFN version, there was an oversight/continuity error in that the note just disappeared after that. Rupert never gave the note to Luke, which was a pure oversight. So I fixed that. in Ch 13 above. The note needed to be a cryptic message that Luke would immediately understand, but no one else would. I settled on "Teach the Creature. Edge of the Chasm."
Whatever happened to the Star Wars and Golf site that wanted to republish my stories?
File Names of formatted docs sent to to WGA before publishing on FFN:
Still a bit on the melodramatic side, especially with villain-speech. Solution?
Fixes:
I originally wrote the "Wedge" role here as Wedge. But then the books started to come out, and I changed "Wedge Antilles" (a character across the initial SW trilogy) into "Corran Horn" in my (misguided) attempt to align with some of the early books that came out. I was going to use him as a crossover character in Infinity's Gate. So I switched "Corran Horn" back to "Wedge Antilles," which is who this character was always meant to be. Wedge is a name that would automatically inspire trust in those familiar with the first three trilogy, and a visceral grieving if he was killed off. So goodbye Corran Horn, hello Wedge Antilles.
Wedge/Corran sent a note with Rupert, but in the FFN version, there was an oversight/continuity error in that the note just disappeared after that. Rupert never gave the note to Luke, which was a pure oversight. So I fixed that. in Ch 13 above. The note needed to be a cryptic message that Luke would immediately understand, but no one else would. I settled on "Teach the Creature. Edge of the Chasm."
Whatever happened to the Star Wars and Golf site that wanted to republish my stories?
File Names of formatted docs sent to to WGA before publishing on FFN:
