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| - “Did I ever tell you how much I hate this Jedi stuff?” Han commented as he watched the battle from the relative safety of the Falcon 's cockpit. Luke had spent the past two days in meditation, and had finally pinpointed the location of the people who had his wife. By the time they arrived, however, the skies of Clak'dor VII were stained in their own blood and the entrails of a hundred different ships. Some of the ships still ringing the planet were of an unfamiliar make and design, so Han supposed those were the ones he wanted to get captured by. The irony was thick. “Once or twice,” Luke returned, staring intently at the scene before them. The battle unfolding was almost amazing in its evolution, even Han had to admit that. Every action was done with a precision he had never seen before, the congruency of their flight paths and timing almost flawless. Detonations spurted from ships as they broke apart under enemy fire, giving a visual effect akin to a Corellian dahlia when it opened in the morning sun. “So how are we going to get ourselves caught?” Han drawled, spinning in his pilot's couch to face his brother-in-law. Luke had changed since the first time Han had seen him, in that smoky cantina on Tatooine. He was older, wiser, and a lot less foolish, but Han still occasionally caught a glimpse of that exuberant farmboy in his clear blue eyes. As he stared out the viewport, one hand on the lightsaber at his belt, that spark was there. “I've been thinking about that,” Luke replied thoughtfully. “Especially about Leia. How, I wonder, when all of those other people on Bespin were slaughtered, did Leia manage to survive? Why did they spare her?” A light went off in Han's head. “Because of the Force.” Luke smiled at him. “Exactly. Now, Leia has great potential, I'll be the first to admit that, but she's far from a full Jedi. If her strength was enough to draw these people to her, I have a hard time imagining that they won't sense me once I open myself to the Force.” A slight dimple appeared between Han's brows. “You've been shielding?” “I thought it best,” he replied simply. Han didn't argue. He certainly wasn't an expert in that area. A new thought occurred. “We ought to ditch Chewie and the Falcon before you do anything that draws them to us.” The Jedi's cheek twitched in agreement, and he stood abruptly. “Which means we need to get on the surface. I'm sure Chewie can make his way out from there.” “Yeah,” Han agreed, leaning forward and taking the controls in his hands. He hit the comm as an after thought. “Hey, Chewie, we're making a little stop on the surface, then you need to get the Falcon out of here, alright?” A harsh growl answered him. “No, I don't want to repeat the Kuat incident. Just stop trying to fix that turbolaser and get up here so you'll be ready to take over,” Han answered tersely. Luke raised one eyebrow. “Kuat incident?” “A long time ago,” Han grumbled. “Let's just say it involved a botched blaster rifle, a dent in the Falcon, and a year cleaning up fur.” Luke smiled at the old pirate and friend, and despite the unhappy circumstance was glad to be where he was. It felt like old times, racing headlong towards the Death Star to capture a beautiful princess from the clutches of evil. Only then they had had Ben Kenobi to help them. And Artoo and Threepio hadn't been watching the Solo apartment on Coruscant. And he hadn't been anywhere close to a Jedi Knight, probably couldn't have handled a lightsaber if he had to. The lightsaber his wife carried. Luke sighed. He should call her before they went in. There was no telling how long he would be apart from her. But at the same time, things were different between he and Mara than most couples, even other Jedi couples. Their souls were bonded and bound, he could no sooner separate himself from her than he could divide a star. Even then, lightyears away from one another, he could feel her just as well as he could if she had been sitting there with him. She was in his heart, and that was one constant in his life that never swayed or faltered. Chewbacca entered the cockpit and grunted, so Luke moved out of the copilot's chair and let the Wookiee have his rightful seat. The battle outside continued to rage, but Han weaved in and out of the combat zone with a proficiency conceived of years of practice and a Force-given gift. Soon they had broke atmosphere, and were sailing over the gray ash fields that still smoldered sympathetically for the lives taken there. The Millennium Falcon settled awkwardly onto the soft ground with only the usual groans that sounded the ancient ship's protest. In reality, the Corellian smuggling vessel should have been put out to pasture years before. But Han loved the ship like a child, and his constant maintenance, however nonstandard, kept it relatively flightworthy. “So let's run through all this again,” Han said. “We're stowing you're lightsaber here—” “Just the hilt,” Luke corrected. “I'm smuggling the focusing crystal in with my mechanical hand. I'll be able to find a temporary housing easily enough once we're there.” “Yeah, whatever,” Han smirked in his usual sarcastic way. “So then you call down the Sith wannabe's up there, we get ourselves taken to wherever it is they've stashed Leia, we get her, get out, and go home.” “Right,” Luke nodded. “And Chewie, you need to be on standby in case we need an escape vessel.” The Wookiee gestured grandiosely and barked out a long and complicated sentence. Luke pursed his lips. “I'm always in contact with Mara, nothing can interrupt that. She'll let you know if and when we need help.” Chewbacca growled in acknowledgment, one large hairy paw smoothing his mane agitatedly. They sat in silence for a few seconds, then Han said, “Come on Luke, let's get this over with. The princess is waiting.” * * * A single silver flake wafted in front of the Jedi Master's face, its center a white tinged leaden color, the edges black rimmed in red. It fell softly, listlessly at his feet, joining the billions of others like it. That single ash could have come from a thousand different places, he knew, including living beings. The crater that he stood in had once been a residential district, and now served as a graveyard. The stench was repulsive, the wind smelling of charred flesh and deadened remains. Even for a man who had seen more horrors than he had ever thought humanly possible, the sight and odor could have easily turned his stomach if he didn't have the Force to steady him. Chewbacca, whose olfactory glands were extremely sensitive, had locked himself inside the Falcon. Han's skin matched the embers in pigment, but he voiced no discomfort. “I think it's time, Luke,” Han said softly. He agreed. It was putting the wisdom to action that was difficult. Because the truth was, he had no desire to expose himself emotionally to people who could commit an act like the one before him. Still, Luke had made greater sacrifices for his sister. This one wouldn't kill him, however unpleasant it may be. Hopefully, anyway. Slowly he released the bubble of protection he had secreted around himself, letting the Force flow in and around him, its lifeblood more filling and satisfying than any other sustenance. At the same time he opened himself to the lingering pain and despair blanketing the planet, the suffering a pulsing rhythm under his skin. He was a conduit in the current of the Force, a powerful one by any standard, drawing the living energy into him and expelling it just as easily. Lives, thousands upon millions of souls clouded his awareness. And some of those became aware of him. He felt a pilot in his ship swerve unnervingly as he sensed the equipotent strength flowing through him, an officer on a bridge stutter his words in disbelief. But more than that he felt his sister, his twin, recognize his presence and touch. She was worried but relatively unharmed, and elated to know he was there. The thought sent a smile across his lips. “Do they know?” Han asked. Luke opened his eyes with the realization that almost every Force sensitive in the area had turned their focus upon him, their minds' eye staring him in the face. “Yeah,” he replied, throat raw from the ash. “They're coming. Quickly.” Han turned to look back at the Falcon, which was perched precariously on a hill of coals, waiting for the signal to leave. “Should he go?” Luke nodded vigorously. “Get him out of here. He has to be gone before they send someone for us. I have no idea how many are coming.” The smuggler turned to look at his ship and best friend, waving his arms violently in a motion that said go! The repulsorlifts kicked in, throwing waves of the dying sparks at Luke and Han, making them shield their mouth and eyes, turning their backs to the gale. Soon though the ship was disappearing into the sky, leaving them alone with the fate they had chosen. * * * Leia was driven to her knees by a blow from behind. Pain temporarily colored her vision red, the ringing in her skull deafening as well. She didn't move for a long moment, waiting for her cognition to return and the strength to her limbs. After a few rapid blinks she looked up, staring into the face of the alien she no longer knew what to think of. Cale's wide-set eyes were emotionless and cold, his dark hair long and loose instead of pulled back in its usual manner at the nape of his neck. He wore his command uniform, the one she had seen him wear only once, the first time she had met him. “I don't understand,” she slurred, realizing the strike had been enough to passingly tie her tongue. She tossed a venomous look at the guard behind her, the one who had struck her. She sized him up with the Force, knowing instinctively that if it came down to raw talent she could mop the floors with him. “Who have you brought here?” Cale demanded in a voice that was much more clipped and formal than his usual vernacular. It seemed that he had been attempting to befriend her, for some ulterior motive no doubt, but that had effectively been shoved out the airlock. Leia knew what this was about, she refused to give up what knowledge she had. She didn't know what Luke and Han had planned, but they were probably counting on the fact that the Baci didn't know anything about them. She wouldn't ruin what slim chance they had. “I don't know what you're talking about,” she snapped, happy to hear her voice was normal again. She still had no strength in her legs, but at least she could get a thought across. He grinned wickedly. “I am not stupid. Do not treat me as if I am such.” Leia was silent. She didn't know what to say. Cale was...well, she didn't know anymore. At the beginning he had been violent and brutal. Then he had been aloof and suspicious. Soon though he had resigned him self to polite and occasionally friendly, even courteous. She despised what he did, destroying the things she had given her life to preserve, as well as the Baci's barbaric practices, but she got the sense that maybe if she could just get through to the Premier they all could be saved. But now...he changed so suddenly her brain hardly had time to register it. She looked away from him, not wanting her gaze to give up her feelings. His personal quarters. They were surprisingly homey, not at all stark or brooding as she might have expected. But the air was electric with his anger, and Leia knew from personal experience he had no qualms about taking it out on her. “Are you not going to answer me?” he demanded, and for a second she thought he might hit her. But he held himself, much to her relief. “I have an inkling,” she admitted. “Does this have something to do with that presence I felt a few minutes ago?” He dropped into a crouch in front of her, his features studying her intently. “I know that you have called them here,” he whispered in a tone that was so flat and devoid it could be construed a hundred different ways. “And whoever that man is, I know his intent is to take you away, and to bring about our destruction. I will not let it happen. You have to understand, Leia, we only do what we have to to survive. We have no malicious intent or agenda.” He paused, turning to look over at the expanse of stars visible outside his viewport. In their midst hung the ruined hulk of a New Republic held world. He hadn't told her which one, and she didn't recognize it. “This planet was taken because of its natural gifts that we need to sustain ourselves here in space. We are a nomadic people. Restless. Incapable of settling. The Dintellion cannot instantly produce what we need to survive. You have to understand.” She felt a singular tear leak out the corner of her eye. She was so confused. Nothing made sense anymore. Was one society of people more entitled to life than another? Was massacring the population of an entire planet any sort of excuse? Her heart told her no. But her mind...it was jumbled, foggy, unable to process things. Maybe she had been hit a little harder than she had thought. “I cannot tolerate this killing,” she stated finally, only the slightest of tremors in her voice. “You may not recognize it, but you are malicious. Can't you feel the pain from this slaughter? Does it not tear your heart in two?” He stood, eyes leaving her face to stare at some point above her head. Leia remained on the floor, her muscles still contracting sporadically from the jolt. There was an imbalance to the whole situation, a wrongness she couldn't put her finger on. She needed Han. She needed Luke. Maybe they could give her the clarity she needed so badly. “I feel many things,” Cale answered her finally. “But I feel most strongly the need of my people. Their plight takes precedence in my eyes.” He turned abruptly to look at her, disconcerting gaze raking over her form. “I know you feel the same way for your own kind. That is why I am giving you this warning: we are nothing like anything you have ever faced. You do not want to try to stand against me, against us. The best thing you can do is to retreat when we give you warning, let us take what we need, and let us be. Do not start a war that doesn't need to be. And do not let this being you have called attempt to bring us down. It would be a vain endeavor that could only result in his demise.” Leia's political mind whirled, weighing her options and outcomes of whatever choice she could make. She knew that Cale was probably more confident than what was warranted, but his threat still rang true in her ears. It was no idle warning, he meant exactly what he said. If only there was a way to change his mind, alter his perceptions and convince him that he could get what he wanted without needless bloodshed... A sense of calm settled over her, a whisper in the Force that was so comforting and so right. She knew her duty. It wasn't the most desirable of fates, but it was hers. She would follow it and hold her head high, knowing she had done the right thing, and done it to the best of her ability. “Let me talk to them,” she said, her voice clear and confident. “I'll make this work for all of us. Just let me talk to them.” Cale studied her carefully, unblinking. Then he licked his lips and said, “I'm having them brought here. You'll be able to speak with them shortly.” * * * The soldiers who had landed and taken them into custody were aliens, but so close in appearance to humans that it took Han two or three good looks to confirm it. Basically, their eyes were darker and farther apart, and all of them had black hair that they let grow long, at least to their shoulders. None of them spoke Basic, but he could see in their expressions that they were wary of him and especially Luke. The Jedi Master never faltered in his vaulted calm, nodding to them all politely as they herded himself and Han onto their strange ship. He even thought that Luke might have some measure of communication with them, through the Force or whatever else the kid did. “Do you have any idea what's going on? We haven't been put in binders or anything,” Han muttered to Luke, throwing a suspicious look around the cabin they had been put in and the other occupants. Luke didn't look at him, his eyes retaining their faraway look. Finally he said softly, “I think they're afraid of me.” Han snorted humorously. “Heh. Who would have thought, right?” “I'm not sure it's what we want Han,” Luke continued. “They may be just taking us back to their ship so they'll have a better chance of killing us.” Han frowned. “That's probably not a good thing.” “No, it's not,” Luke sighed. “Either way, I doubt that they're just going to take us straight to Leia.” One of the soldiers turned around and looked at them curiously. “Leia?” he repeated. Han felt his heart skip a beat. “You know her?” The man continued to frown, uncomprehending. Then he turned to Luke, and Han had the unsettling feeling that communication was passing between them that he couldn't see. “He's seen her,” Luke concluded finally. “I let him see her in my mind, and he recognizes her, and her name. I think...” he stopped, continuing to frown at the man. “I think she's been seen with their president.” A lopsided grin spread across his lips despite the situation. “Sounds like her. Anything else?” Luke closed his eyes, that all-mighty Jedi face replacing his usual casualness. “She's expecting us. And surprisingly, she's really calm, like we're not about to take on a whole state of Force-sensitives to rescue her.” Han didn't know what to think about that. Leia had an amazing resolve and a strength of heart he could never match, but that just didn't seem like her. In fact, he was kind of surprised she hadn't already escaped on her own. He could think of several instances when she had faced and solved a problem and even rescued herself before he had even known anything was wrong. The alien ship approached a larger command vessel, its design foreign and intriguing. It was shaped like a primitive longbow stretched to its length, an oval hollowed out curve, smooth and natural in its appearance. “This is your headquarters?” Han asked, not that he expected them to answer. The same soldier turned to Luke for translation. After a minute Luke told him, “I can't be sure this is a correct rendering, but as far as I can tell her name is the Dintellion.” “You got that through the Force?” “It's really weird,” Luke mused, “the more we talk, even if we're not talking to them, it's like he absorbs our words. These people have astounding memories. Instantaneous.” “Like Winter?” Han compared to one of Leia's oldest and dearest companions. “Yes, like Winter,” Luke said. They docked with the Dintellion uneventfully, and when Luke unbuckled himself and stood no one moved to object. Han followed suit, doing as he saw fit and exiting into the wide and sweeping hangar bay. Standing waiting for him as if nothing was wrong was none other than his princess. Han was swallowed in relief, the pit that had existed in his stomach since he had known something was wrong dissipating into the air. He was at her side in five long strides, sweeping her off the floor and into his arms where she had always belonged. “Leia,” he whispered into her hair, as happy to hold her as he had ever been. Eventually she pulled away, smiling in a way that wasn't quite what he would have expected. One hand reached up to caress his face. “Oh, I missed you.” “Me too,” he said, careful not to show too much emotion. They were still in enemy territory after all, and things had gone much too easily so far. She looked around him, smiling at her twin. “Oh, Luke,” she said, going and hugging him close in an embrace that wasn't as frantic but just as intense. “Are you all right? What have they done to you?” Luke demanded. Leia waved it off, but the gesture wasn't as nonchalant as she had intended it to be. “I'll survive.” “How do we get you out of here?” Han asked warily, more than conscious of the alien eyes staring at them. “You can leave whenever you want,” Leia said calmly. “Leia, what's going on? Why are you talking like this?” Luke exclaimed softly, taking her by the arm. “Let's go while we have the chance.” She gently removed his hand from her arm, taking a deep breath. “I'm not going back with you.”
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