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| The Battles of Peace |
The Battles of Peace
The velvet darkness of space bloomed with the orange ball of the explosion.
"Great shot, Chewie!" Han yelled into the comlink. "Took out both stabilizers. Come up and watch the show."
In a few moments, the Wookiee joined his captain in the cockpit with a wide grin on his hairy face. "Hrwuff!" he said and sank into the navigator's chair.
"Watch him." Han pointed at the incapacitated freighter that slowly began to rotate. It was a small and badly used vessel they'd been chasing for more than twenty hours.
"Graaw ufcrashoo?"
"He's a damn good pilot, whoever he is. I hope he'll manage to land this crate. You know, we almost lost him a couple of times."
Chewie grumbled about the difficulties of catching someone alive. Han flashed a satisfied smile. "We needed difficulties, pal, I was getting stiff lately. All meetings and no action. Not that I don't like peacetime."
"Wooffa hrmphartargh..."
"My nest? Yeah, Leia has really made sure it's comfortable." Han's face darkened a little. "She's been very jumpy lately. Do all females get like this when they're pregnant? Hey, watch the bastard! Okay, just as I thought. He's slowing down to enter the atmosphere. See, he's got some control left over that junk."
"Aai Leia?" Chewie inquired. He was more interested in Han's family life than the quarry they were after.
"I don't know. She's not herself nowadays. Maybe she has a bit of Luke's Force thing in her, what do you think? Sometimes I catch her -- it's weird -- as if she were watching something far away... She says it's nothing. Maybe she's missing Luke. You know, it bugs me too. This is the zillionth time the kid took off without saying as much as drop dead Han. He disappeared when we left Hoth, he disappeared after Bespin, and he walked out on me on Endor... some even called him a deserter then. He never said where he was going, what he was doing. Leia says it's a Jedi thing. You know, pal, I hate Jedi things." He altered the Falcon's course, following the freighter towards the planet, and activated a long-range comlink. It beeped twice.
"I know you can hear me," Han said into the mike. "Give up and talk! You have no place to go but down, and I'm going there after you." He turned to Chewie. "This bastard never answers the comm. Probably too busy throwing up. Look how fast his ship's turning now. He's got guts for sure. I almost wish him luck with the landing. Damn Imps, they'll never rest. We beat them fair and square, and there's still a few that just won't give up."
The freighter slowed down significantly as it entered the planet's atmosphere, but without the stabilizers, it was in for a very rough landing, if not a fatal crash. Han pursued it relentlessly.
"Chewie, see if you can get a line to the planetary authorities."
With the new comm system Han had wheedled out of the New Government (for security reasons; after all, he was often delivering the High Honorable Leia Organa-Solo herself) it was no problem to get a reasonably high-ranking security chief on line. "This is General Solo, from the InterSec. You've been notified of the theft of two dozen stasis boxes from Pirodor?"
"Yes, two planetary days ago." The cheerful voice came clear from the comm. "How can we help?"
"A disabled freighter is about to land on your planet. I'll give you the exact coordinates pretty soon. Arrange a little welcoming committee. Local police maybe. The stasis boxes are aboard the freighter. By the way, were you told what's in them?"
"No. All I know is that it's some Imperial experiment, research or such, probably highly toxic or explosive, and it has to be delivered back to Pirodor post haste. What is it?"
Han made a sour face. "Doesn't matter." He didn't know it either. InterSec, the interplanetary security net that took care of leftover Imperials, woke him up in the middle of the night to send him on a wild chase after the mystery man who'd managed to steal two dozen stasis boxes from a sealed Imperial research institute. There'd been no time for a detailed briefing, and Han didn't press it as he was rather eager to see some action.
And he did: for a good twenty hours, the freighter played a very lively cat and mouse game with him, a fine job from an unarmed ship against the Falcon. He could have blasted it to pieces easily, and his orders gave him such option, but Han never fired a truly deadly shot. He wanted the thief alive, suitable for questioning. Hopefully! he sighed. If the bastard survives the landing.
The Falcon broke the clouds, and Han now had a good view of the landscape below. It was daylight down there, and inhabited land: a network of good roads full of land vehicles of all sizes, housing units, power lines...
"Goddamn it, he's going to crash into a town!"
The freighter, wobbling now instead of rotating, headed straight towards a cluster of little white houses. Han noticed that it tried to gain altitude, managed a wide, unsteady turn, and began a rapid descent.
"Rawaff h'orgamor," Chewie pointed to the right, where the blue square of a water reservoir shimmered in the sunshine.
"Hope he's a good swimmer." Han grinned. Far on the horizon, a swarm of small dark shapes approached. "Here come the good boys. Chewie, let's get down now. There!" He rattled off the coordinates to the planetary security. "This is it!"
The Falcon descended on a neatly plowed field beside the reservoir, just seconds before the freighter skimmed the surface of the water, scraped the side of the dam, and came to a jerky halt, halfway in the water, halfway on the concrete pavement.
Han changed the channels on the comm. "Are you alive? Say something, this is getting boring. Can't you speak Standard? Listen hard. Come out of there with your hands up in the air, and I won't shoot. I want you alive and well. If you're injured, you'll get a medic. I'll be waiting for you with a blaster, so no tricks, please."
He hit the controls to lower the ramp, told Chewie to cover him just in case, and walked out.
The freighter lay on its side, but both the hatch and the cargo hold could be opened. Han watched for movement. The copters of the local police were fairly close now, and he could hear the sirens of ground vehicles as well, approaching from the other side of the lake.
He flexed his fingers, millimeters above his blaster. Something's gotta happen, he thought.
The cargo hold opened. It was an old system, its plastisteel ramp creaked as it came down, hanging awkwardly to the side. Han waited for his opponent to appear, but instead of a man, a small, one-person airbike eased out of the opening. It gave a shrill noise and, like a streak of lightning, raced over Han, over the Falcon, towards the freeway.
"Chewie! Damn, we don't have a... Chewie, I'll check that freighter, maybe there's another one of those bikes. You call InterSec, brief them. And Leia, too. Then transfer those stasis boxes to our hold. I'll catch the bastard!"
He didn't wait for the Wookiee's assent, just ran over to the freighter. There were several airbikes in the hold. Han unlatched one, straddled it with delight, pulled down the egg-shaped windshield and flew after the fugitive.
"I'll get him if it's the last thing I'll ever do!"
The ride over the freeway was exhilarating. Han knew he couldn't catch up with the fugitive: they both rode at maximum speed, and the other had a good lead to begin with, but all rides must come to an end, and Han was determined to win somehow. There was no other airbike on the whole planet. They rode easily over the ground vehicles on the countryside, but after the first twenty minutes, they reached a city with tall buildings.
This will be fun, Han thought when his prey started to weave left and right between the skyscrapers. By this time, dozens of police copters buzzed overhead, but they were slow and clumsy compared to the lightweight airbikes. Han whooped and yelled with the thrill of the chase, gaining a little here and there, almost forgetting that it wasn't a game among friends. He nearly lost sight of the other behind a mirrored building that rose out of a small, wooded park, then he saw the bike land on a clearing and dived down to land there, too.
By the time he touched ground, he was thirty seconds too late. The bike had been abandoned, but the muddy ground offered fresh footprints to follow. The police copters pulled closer, some landed on top of the building, the others tried to find enough space in the park and in a parking lot full of groundcars. Han took it all in with a quick glance and ran after his man. At the back of the building, a revolving door turned, empty. He drew his blaster, set it on stun and charged in. His hand slipped on the brass bar of the door. Blood. Well, he thought, the bastard must be pretty well banged up, landing that old freighter without stabilizers.
The building was huge and silent. Gigantic statues of the local prehistoric creatures stood in the lobby. A museum, Han realized. Several halls opened in every direction, beyond them more halls and more statues, displays, elevators, ramps, balconies. Nothing moved. The glass-eyed saurians seemed to stare at him curiously.
Han walked lightly and carefully. If the Imp was armed... The silence was unnerving. He stopped, listening.
The lights came on and with them, cries and footsteps indicated the arrival of the local police. The elevators started moving. Han knew it might take hours before a single person could be flushed out of a building like this, but with policemen on the top floor and positioned at all entrances and exits, it was only a matter of time. Still, Han wanted the hunt, wanted to see his man face to face.
Or his man wanted to see him...
Behind a gigantic plastic monster, Han saw the universal sign of the sanitary cubicles on a plain door. He approached it cautiously. There was a smear of fresh blood on the doorframe.
Han pushed the door in and found himself in a white sani.
The man was there, washing his face and drinking at the same time.
Han's heart skipped a beat.
Luke Skywalker straightened, water dripping from his hair.
"You idiot!" Han croaked. "I almost killed you. Why didn't you answer the comm? Why did you let me chase you?"
"Your comm's being monitored by the New Government. I wasn't exactly eager to introduce myself. Besides, you had no intention to kill me, I felt you clearly. You wanted your guy alive. And I wanted to talk to you somewhere private. I need your help," Luke said. He took off his jacket and began to bandage a gash on his forearm.
Han holstered his blaster and took a drink himself before he spoke. "There's no time to chat, kid. The whole local security is here. What do you want me to do?"
"Where are the stasis boxes?"
"Chewie's loading them into the Falcon."
"I must have them," Luke said quietly.
"Stars, you're in trouble! Deep trouble. I don't know what you fucked up, but okay, you go back to the Falcon, I don't care how. Use your damn Force. Take a ground vehicle, that airbike sticks out like a sore thumb. I'll see you there. Wait a few minutes here while I get the boys off your back. Just like old times."
Han winked and went out. Luke heard several shots and Han yelling: "I think I winged him! This way, he went up the elevator!" Loud footsteps followed.
Luke waited. When everything became quiet, he slipped out and disappeared in the shadows behind the plastic monsters.
Some five hours later, a very exhausted Han Solo got out of a police bus at the dam and said a warm goodbye to the lieutenant who'd driven him there.
"That man!" the officer sighed. "Might take days to ferret him out of the museum. But don't worry, General, we'll get him. By the way, we received orders to blow up the freighter with the stasis boxes. A team of demolition experts are on their way. Will you return to Mord now, or will you stay for the fireworks?"
"I'm beat. I was chasing this guy for a very long time. I give you the honor of catching him. Thanks for your help. InterSec won't forget the cooperation."
They shook hands. Han stretched, yawned, and walked to the Falcon. The ramp was down and the engines were running. Chewie stood there waiting.
"Arw Lukegraw," he said. "Stasisgrofhum."
"Then let's get the hell outta here, pal."
As the secure silence of hyperspace enveloped the Falcon, Han leaned back in his chair, listening to Chewie's explanation. The Wookiee told him that Luke had arrived about two hours ago, did some pretty impressive Jedi tricks on the local policemen who never seemed to notice him, got into the Falcon and made sure that all the stasis boxes were in the hold.
I gave him the medikit, a decent dinner, a can of ale and sent him to sleep in my cabin, Chewie said, obviously pleased with himself.
"You always had a soft spot for the kid." Han grinned. "I think I'll turn in for a few hours, too." He stood up and started towards his cabin, then stopped. "Chewie, what the hell is in those stasis boxes?"
"Harrwa hum," the Wookiee suggested.
"Okay, I'll take a look."
Han climbed down the metal ladder into the hold, switched on the light and stared at the boxes. They were a lot larger than he'd expected, each about the size of a coffin. He wondered if his carbon-freeze slab had looked similar. He had to go closer to see that the lids had a round, transparent window. He leaned closer to peek in, and immediately pulled back with a startled yell.
What he saw was a seven-year old child.
Han looked into another box, shaking his head in disbelief. It contained the perfect twin of the first boy. No matter which box he checked, the rigid bodies were identical.
"Clones, in the four blue hells, those are half-grown clones!"
Chewie, he noticed, had come down to the hold.
"Now what do you think? Ye gods, what has Luke gotten himself into this time?" Han frowned, remembering something. "InterSec requested that those stasis boxes should be blown up. Chewie, those clone-boys are some secret Imperial experiment. Probably better stormtroopers."
"No. Jedi." Luke stood at the top of the ladder, wrapped in one of Chewie's handwoven blankets. "Han, we must talk."
"Okay, you can come to my cabin and talk all you want."
"Don't you have to report back to Mord, or get back to Leia?"
Han hesitated. "Chewie, what did you tell them?" The Wookiee barked a long sentence. "So, they might think I had to stay longer. I guess a few missing hours won't matter. Go now, you're blocking my way."
Luke had never been in Han's cabin before. It was, as he'd expected, without luxuries. A bed, covered with a khaki blanket, a few green hold-all boxes, and technical tapes covering every remaining inch, with an occasional sock or shirt thrown on them. Han swept the tapes off his only chair, motioned for Luke to sit down and sat on the bed, facing him. Chewie made himself comfortable on the table.
"Now talk, and it'd better make sense."
"You know I want to recreate the Jedi order," Luke started. "Well, there aren't too many Jedi left, if any, probably hiding."
"So why don't you ask help from the New Government? You could advertise all over the Galaxy. Leia would help for sure. Kid, you need funds, a place, a building, a few helpers..."
"I don't want to go into details. Just accept the fact that I can't do this with the help of the Allian... I mean, the New Government. They're not as eager to see new Jedi as I am."
"You took off because you had an argument with them about this?" Han asked.
"You might say that. About a month ago, it came to my attention that the Imperials had conducted a top secret experiment on Pirodor, something the Emperor himself was involved with. They were cloning Jedi. It was a fairly new project. Nobody'd ever cloned Jedi with much success before, but they'd obtained organic tissue from a very suitable specimen."
There was a slight smile on Luke's face when he said that, a smile Han didn't like at all. He pointed a finger at the Jedi.
"You. Those are your clones."
Luke nodded. "After we'd won the war, the New Government took over Pirodor, shut down the research, and put those clones into stasis boxes. Apparently, there is no new law -- yet -- to deal with the existing clones. Someone has to decide what to do with them. See, the stasis stops their growth. If they're revived now, they won't be like the adult clones used for the trooper units. They are children, still unformed, they could learn to grow up to be individuals. They won't be any more identical than natural twins. Goddamit, Han, they are my children!"
Han stared at Luke's gesturing arm, at the blood-soaked bandage and the thin band encircling the wrist where his robotic hand started.
"You gotta be far gone to say that! Shit, they used cells from your hand that Vader cut off on Bespin, is that it?"
Luke tensed. "And if you make babies, do they come from a more honorable organ, or what? It makes no bloody difference to me how they came to be; they're mine, they are Jedi. They belong to me! I won't let some idiotic committee decide that they should be eliminated like a failed experiment."
Chewie growled softly about the kid having a point here.
"I fail to see his point!" Han yelled then stopped, surprised at his own anger. "Luke, I think you're making a mistake. You're alienating the Government. You've risked your life time and again to create this order, this peace, this very governing body, and now you're off to become a renegade, a rogue."
"Just like old times, Han." Luke's smile was warm, and Han knew he would help the kid, even if Luke was out to blow up Mon Mothma herself. Sighing, he buried his face in his hands.
Chewie opened three cans of ale with perfect sense of timing and, for a few minutes, they all sat there, drinking in silence.
Han put his can down first. "Before I go out on a limb for you, kid, tell me just what kind of argument you had with the Government... and Leia. I know something happened between the two of you. She gets all worked up whenever I mention your name."
"But I told you all that's really important," Luke said. "I want the new Jedi order, and some people think it would be Vader and the Emperor all over again..." He sounded convincing, but he did not look Han in the eye now.
"But I told you all that's really important..." Han mimicked him angrily. "Listen, Leia is my bonded mate. You, as far as I know, are her long-lost royal brother separated at birth or some such crap. Do you know who I am? As your sister's husband, I'm your oldest male kin, and by Corelli clan custom, my word is LAW! I'm responsible for what you do, how you live. Will you look me in the eye and repeat that blasted sentence: But I told you all that's really important?!"
Luke tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. "Why, Han, you're positively howling. As my clan elder and bonded kin, I'll have you know that members of the Jedi order are exempted from clan laws."
"And who the hell made you a member of what Jedi order?"
"Well, the Jedi order has one member, that's me, and I accepted myself unanimously." Luke smiled, clearly enjoying the Corellian's angry concern.
"One more attempt at wry humor and you're dead," Han said. "Nobody can talk in circles better than a Jedi. I noticed old man Kenobi doing the same when he mentioned your father. How he was a great Jedi and a good pilot... What is it? What did I say now?"
Luke was pale as a sheet, every trace of the smile gone from his face. His voice was barely audible when he spoke. "Yes, Han, I am doing the same thing... I'm doing to you what he did to me. He... never talked truth to me, not 'til I forced him... don't let me do this, Han, I don't want to!"
"So? Don't, then. Kid, I'm sick and tired of Jedi mysteries, and I can see that you'll get sick of them too, if this goes on too long. I am kin to you! Shit, even if I were not a friend, I'm kin now. Enough of this bantha crap." Han leaned close to Luke, grabbing his hand. "Now what is it that you're not telling me?"
The blue eyes blinked. "Darth Vader... was my father."
"Who?"
"Vader. Was. My. Father. Kenobi knew. He never told me. Vader told me on Bespin."
He'd said it; now he felt empty. There was no relief, only dread. Luke tried to sort out the emotions he felt coming from Han. Surprise, curiosity, pity, anger... amusement?
"You didn't know Vader was your father?"
"No..."
"So what? I don't know who my father was and who cares? He could've been the Emperor. What's the big deal?"
Han let go of Luke's hand and started to search for another can of ale. A hairy paw presented it to him promptly. Han shook his head. "Not for me, Chewie, for this idiot here."
He pointed at Luke. "Huh? What's the big deal? So, Vader had a wild night with your momma. Anyone care?"
"In certain cultures, it means a great deal."
"Why? If he never taught you, never lived under the same roof with you, he wasn't part of your clan, and you weren't part of his clan! Who're you to feel obligated or whatever?"
Luke took a sip of his ale. "Let's say I used to feel obligated. Sort of. But this is the least part of it. How I feel. The question is how others feel. Half of the New Government is convinced it would cause a great political scandal if word got out that their favorite boy hero was Vader's... spawn."
"So don't invite them to dinner. Invite the other half."
"Han!"
"Han what?" The Corellian stood up, stretching comfortably. "Because I make sense? Because I'm not buying your destiny-fate-darkside-lightside-hocus-pocus? THIS IS WHY YOU NEED ME! 'Cause you're apt to fall into this gothic romance outta some rotten holotape--" Han froze in mid-gesture. Something had just occurred to him. His voice was very gentle when he spoke again. "They sent you away. Is that it? Someone in the New Government, is that it? They told you to get lost?"
"They wanted to kill me."
Chewie howled in outrage. Han remained still. His fists clenched. "Hurts, huh?"
"It will fade. I can understand them. They, too, sacrificed everything for this peace, this government. They don't want any hint of scandal spoiling it." Luke shrugged. "The Jedi should be able to deal with a few more decades of hiding. In time, this war will be mercifully forgotten, together with the misguided emotions it created in all of us. Time heals."
Han wished there was enough room in his cabin to start pacing. He tried to imagine the situation and failed. "Who wanted to kill you?"
"A team of very professional assassins." Luke was reluctant to provide details. "They were good, but hell, I'm better."
Han grinned at that. "You're good." There was more in his words than praise for Luke's combat skills. The Jedi sat there quietly hoping that the conversation would end with this, but the Corellian continued: "Still, I think you were wrong to run away. Stand up, name the responsible persons, drag them out in public, make a big fuss. You deserve more than a life of hiding, you know."
"The responsible persons are well-meaning people, Han, and in time they'll--"
"And in time you'll be shot at, haunted, hindered in every possible way! I almost killed you out there! And what are you going to do with two dozen screaming kids, how are you going to feed them, clothe them, house them? Where?"
Chewie offered his home planet. Luke said he knew where to go.
"So tell me," Han said. "I'll have to drop you off there anyway."
"Dagobah."
"What's Dagobah?"
"A planet. Safe and uninhabited. A... Jedi place."
"You'll need supplies." Han was practical. "Medicine, equipment, provisions. Tapes for the kids to learn from. A few computers."
"Building panels, too. I'll need a house."
"You can use the panels from the stasis boxes, I'll give you a welder. Chewie, come and see what we have on the Falcon to lend him." Han gave Luke a gentle push. "You go to bed now, kid. You look like something the nerfs chewed on."
Luke was glad to go. But in the warm silence of Chewie's cabin, he knew he'd failed to tell the truth. Han had the right to know that Leia was among those who'd hired the assassins. I'll tell him, he thought. I must tell him. Tomorrow.
Then he pulled a soft, thick blanket over himself and enjoyed the protected moment, the knowledge that Han and Chewie were there to help him, that for this night, they were taking care of him. He was young and alone. This hurt. But this was the last time, he knew. Tomorrow, he'd open the stasis boxes. Tomorrow, and on all coming days, his children would be there. Nestled in the huge Wookiee bed, Luke slept then and the dreams were kind to him.
Lightyears away, Leia Organa-Solo lay in her bed wide awake. She had checked the reports on the Falcon's mission. They weren't good. Han had not blasted "that ship" to a million pieces as she'd expected. That ship, this was how she thought of it. She knew full well that if she allowed herself to think "Luke's ship", her resolve would fail. That ship, that ship. What if they met? No, that couldn't be. Han had left the planet and Luke was still trapped in some museum. Trapped. She tried to imagine the scene. As If anyone could trap Luke. He was a Jedi. He was probably free by now. But at least the planetary authorities had managed to blow up the freighter.
Leia knew what was kept in the stasis boxes. When she thought of the two dozen small clones, her hands automatically went to her belly. Her twins. Would they be Jedi? Would Luke come one day to claim them?
How she'd tried to see the future. I have the Force, she thought. The confidence helped. In the darkness of her room, fragments of clairvoyant visions shifted. There was only one image she searched for: Luke's face, frozen in the irrevocable finality of death. Only then could Leia Organa be free of Vader, the Emperor, even free of the death of her beloved Alderaan. Free to know that nothing threatened the New Government, the future for which Alderaan had died for. No link to the dark would bespoil the future...
The visions came and went. Leia could not understand them. She didn't know that there was more than just one future to see, as the innumerable possibilities born of today's events swirled around her. Nothing she saw made sense. She was afraid then.
If only Luke would die and set me free. Free to grieve for him, even. Free to love him again, love the laughing, bragging kid, the ever-sunny pilot, the bright hero of the Alliance. Not this man he became. Not Vader's son, not the soft-spoken, ageless Jedi who seems to know everything. Not Vader's son, who claims I am Vader's daughter.
I'm not Vader's daughter! And if Luke dies, no one will ever think of me as Vader's daughter again! The darkness whispered to her. Vader's daughter seeks her brother's death. Leia Organa wants Skywalker dead. Leia.
Who am I? she asked.
And when she fell asleep, suddenly, against her will, the dreams came. Dreams of immense dark power, all for her to use. Her body filled with it. Power so strong that she could kill with a pointed finger. Use me, this power wailed, use me! I don't know how, she cried, and woke up. The room was still dark. Leia reached out to touch Han before she remembered that he wasn't there.
"Okay, you're all set for now." Han announced. " The supplies should last for about two weeks. I'll be back before then. When are you getting the kids out?"
"Now."
"Wait," Han said. "We haven't quite finished our conversation. I'm going back to Mord, I'll do everything in my power to get you full government support for your Jedi order. But I must know who's so dead-set against you. I can't play cards blindfolded, okay?"
Luke stared at the foggy mist over the swamp. He'd made his decision. He had to tell the truth. No more Kenobi tactics. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. "Ask her."
The words hung between them for a long time. Han shook his head slowly. He said nothing.
Luke broke the silence. "She's afraid. Of Vader, of powers she doesn't understand. Of any failure. She has lost more than any of us. No one knows how she could stay sane and strong after losing her homeworld. How many Alderaani went crazy? She's badly hurt. Even I can't quite live with the idea of being Vader's son, and I had more than a year to think about it. Leia is terrified of what being Vader's daughter means; with a very illogical, very childish fear... This could ruin her."
"You... talked to her. I mean, after."
"A few words. I tried to tell her I understood. I said I want the truth to be told. Maybe I was wrong. As you said, it might not be important. Whose son I am." Luke hesitated for a moment. "But you see, he... Vader... changed at the end. He didn't let the Emperor kill me."
"Oh. How very nice of him. The black armor with a heart of gold. Do you think a moment of compassion obliterates decades of evil?"
"Yes. And it must be told. For all who think there is no way back. Look, I know you hate this. But for Leia, all this is very real, as real as it is for me. She needs... I'm almost afraid to use words like salvation...absolution... because you'll call it dramatics... No. creating a public scandal won't help her."
"Do you swim?" Han asked.
Luke stared at him. "No. What does that have to do with anything?"
"I swim. When a man is drowning, sometimes the only way to save him is to hit him on the head with an oar and pull him out unconscious."
"I don't get it."
"Never mind. Do you trust me?"
The Jedi nodded.
No more words were needed. Han began to walk back to the Falcon. Luke followed him silently. Chewie sat on the lowered ramp, peeling a green fruit.
"Okay, we'll be back with more provisions," Han said.. "And boys' clothes. I'll see if I can scare up a medidroid for ya. As for the rest of it, I guess I'm gonna play it by ear. Lay low. Chewie, we gotta fix up the logs so the little sidetrip to this slimepit won't show up on the computer." Han extended his hand and Luke clasped it. "See you. Have fun with the kiddies."
"Gods, I've had enough," Han groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Pal, I'm telling you, I've had enough with the Skywalker mystery."
"Graff brandyg'or," Chewie said, noisily throwing the empty containers into the trash compactor for emphasis.
"If a man can't get stinkin' drunk after learning that his wife is out to have her brother killed, I don't know when a man is supposed to get stinkin' drunk. I have to think."
Chewie remarked that they were a mere hour away from landing on Mord and Han wouldn't be in any shape to think for another while yet.
The Corellian was lying on his back in his cabin, looking up at his hairy friend with a puzzled expression. "Is there ever peace, Chewie?"
"H'or glaa, warhargwoo," the Wookiee offered his wisdom.
"Thanks, but I'm a bit too young to rest below the roots of the Lifetree. I want to live a normal life." Han sighed. "May H'or curse all Jedi dead or alive! I'm not ready for this. I'm not made for this. This is not my scene. Destiny! To the five hundred blue hells with destiny. Crap!" He slapped the pillow. "I might know a way out. A rotten way, but it's better than nothing. Please, can I have a bowl of hot kasha?"
Chewie nodded eagerly. The cub is coming to his senses, he thought, at least he eats.
When Chewie put the steaming bowl on the table, Han climbed out of bed, dropped into the chair and grabbed the spoon. "This will put me right," he declared. "You're still the best cook ever."
He ate the kasha to the last drop. Chewie could see he was thinking hard in the meantime. Maybe he's not all that drunk, the Wookiee thought, Hankho is tough as the Tree itself. Rare quality in a standard human.
"I know what I'm gonna do. I have to do it, before this deep, dark religious Force-crap gets too complicated. Leia's not gonna like it at first, and maybe Luke won't like it, but it's the only way," Han said, pushing the bowl away.
Chewie mewed a question.
"Sure you can help." Han grinned. "As soon as we land, go to my house and get me that brown uniform with all the gold braids on. I'll be waiting for you in the Falcon. No, I don't want to meet Leia right away. Just bring me that uniform. Boots and all. Then you can take the Falcon to Mos Eisley and go shopping for Luke and the cubs, you know, plenty of clothes, food... use my credit chip... yes, food, clothes, tools, maybe a medidroid, blankets, whatever. Pack it all in the hold and come back for me. If all goes well, by that time all hell will break loose anyway. Stay sharp."
Gold-braided and medal-bedecked generals did not walk into the Galactic Media Club every day. Thus the appearance of General Solo-Organa caused all newsbeings to drop whatever they had in their manipulatory organs and edge closer to wherever the man decided to sit. The General was a truly admirable figure, and the velvety brown of his dress-uniform suited him well. He ordered a drink that he didn't touch. It was obvious that he was waiting for somebody. Occasionally, he glanced at the time display on the wall.
Hopeful newsbeings circled his table. He didn't seem to notice them, until the trademark gold globe of the Nonstop News caught his eye. The globe complete with recorders and sensors hung around the neck of a short, stocky Calamari. Han tried to remember his name but failed.
"You," he pointed at the newsbeing. "You are..."
"Kron Kite. General Solo-Organa, what an honor to see you." The Calamari activated his recorder at once. "You don't mind, I hope."
Han thought of running a couple of circles first, but decided against it. "Not at all. I'm the one who's honored to give an interview to Nonstop. Best channel in the galaxy."
"What can I ask about?"
"Anything." Han shrugged, swirling his drink. "Ask ahead."
"What's the story behind the disappearance of Skywalker?" The newslobster changed to his on-air voice, sounding softly excited.
"Oh, that. Well, there's been an assassination attempt against him. It seems that a few members of the New Government didn't like the idea that he's Vader's son."
The lobster lost his color and his professional demeanor at the same time. He gave an inarticulate groan and mumbled something in his native language. Han waited patiently for his recovery.
"Did I say something you haven't heard before?" he inquired gently.
From then on, it was easy. In a few minutes, the room was full of newsbeings, recorders and spotlights, all crowding around Han who went into great details on the Skywalker story. He glossed over Leia's involvement, but mentioned that Leia and Luke were siblings. He also failed to tell where Luke was at the moment, but talked about the clones at length.
All it took was twenty minutes. The newsbeings raced to their respective headquarters with the dizzying story, and Han finally downed his drink. Well, he thought, dark, deep secrets have their way of destroying people, but only as long as they're dark, deep and secret. It's all out now. Better this way. No one will try to kill Luke to cover a fact that's all over the newsscreens... and Leia's safe too. It's possible to cope with the uproar this will cause. Obviously, she couldn't cope with the silence.
He walked out to the lobby and stood in front of the holowall. Twenty different creens showed his face, playing the "interview" he'd given. Han turned and left, fully satisfied. It was time to go home and help Leia sort out whatever she needed to have sorted out. He expected a few Government officials to come running as well. Fine, fine. Let the roof cave in. It'll let in some light.
Leia was sitting in front of the holoscreen when Han arrived. She looked at him as if seeing him for the first time, this tall man in his impressive dress-uniform.
"What have you done?" she asked. Her voice was colorless. Her forced calm disturbed Han. "Why have you done this?"
"What was I supposed to do? More precisely, what did you think I'd do? Did you think I'd let you go on?" Han began to divest himself of his gold-braided attire. "Your New Government's on its way to become the old government. I don't know, maybe this is the way it must be. Maybe every new system is fated to turn into your usual rotten authority. If that's so, I've spent a good couple of years fighting for nothing. But I'll be damned if I don't put my two credits in."
"Han." Leia's eyes were enormous in her pale face. "You can't imagine the consequences. There'll be an investigation. Mon Mothma called me a few minutes ago. The first task of the newly elected Senate will be to clear up the Skywalker question."
"Skywalker question?" Han almost laughed. "Cute way of saying it."
"They'll ask you to clarify your position as well."
"Clarify what?"
"You knew that Luke deserted on Endor and surrendered to the Imperials."
"Excuse me, but wasn't that what you refused to tell me then? When I asked you what was wrong?"
"Well, the way they see it, you knew he'd left his post and never reported him as a deserter. Neither did I. They'll want to know when you learned that he's Vader's son, and why you haven't reported it."
"I learned it yesterday."
"You met him. He set you up to do this!"
Han shook his head. "My idea, Princess. You know, I sometimes have ideas on my own. Maybe the same old ones: blast everything in sight. Fine. That's what I did. I blasted your precious secrets all over the place."
She sat there, her hands on her belly, her thin shoulders bent. Han looked at her and sighed. "You'll see, it'll be easier from now on. You've got nothing to hide now." He went to her and sat on the carpet in front of her chair so that she could look down on him. "Don't you see that this stupid political cover-up nearly destroyed you? Leia, I know you were raised to do politics, and I think they forgot to tell you there's something else..."
"Han, we have a very fragile peace. We won the war, but the new order is just beginning to form. Everything is yet to be defined. The star systems are still hesitant to ally with us. Do you think they'll like the news that the Alliance won with the help of Vader's children?"
"Like it or not, that's how it happened. I think it's kinda nice that Vader's children didn't turn out to be darksiders. Would you like a cup of tea?"
Leia gasped. "A cup of tea? You create the biggest scandal of all time, and you're offering me a cup of tea?"
"Sweetheart, we gotta survive, no matter how big a scandal we're having. You're pregnant, too."
She looked at him again, trying to read the thoughts inside his stubborn skull. "You don't hate me?"
"No." He stood up and loosened his shirt collar. "I just think you were incredibly stupid and very vulnerable. Luke said the same thing. That you were kinda confused because of what had happened to Alderaan, and that you really hate being Vader's daughter. But I really don't care whose kids you two are. You don't know who my father was, and if I were to tell you my dad was the Grand Moff Tarkin, would it make a bit of a difference to you?" Han scrutinized Leia's face for a while. "I'll go get a cup of tea and some bisquits for you. I'll be gone for about ten minutes, so you can cry a little without me knowing that Princesses do cry."
"The hell with your cheerful Corellian wisdom!" Leia cried, exasperated, but when he walked out and shut the door, she found that the tears were coming anyway.
Han went out to the common synth at the end of the hall for the tea, but before he got there, Mon Mothma stopped him. She was her usual composed self, something Han thought was probably whipped into every kid who'd been raised to do politics.
"General Solo, the Ethics Committee of the New Senate will conduct a hearing in the Skywalker matter, starting on the first workday after Springfest. Commander Skywalker, the Princess Organa and yourself are to testify to clear up the questions. The hearings will be open to live telecast. Do you think you can contact the Commander and tell him to be there?"
Han whistled slowly. "I can... Can you guarantee his safety during the procedure?"
"General, there are thousands of beings thoroughly outraged...Demonstrations and protests are unavoidable. Many consider Skywalker a traitor."
"Traitor? What for?"
"Skywalker contacted Vader repeatedly. Our bases were attacked time and again, because Vader easily traced him. And Skywalker knew this. If that isn't treason, General, then I don't know what is."
Mon Mothma's words chilled the Corellian. He realized that no matter what he'd done, the game was not over... and he had no control over the cards Luke would end up holding.
It rained often on Dagobah. Chewie scratched at his wet fur miserably, but worked hard to help Luke build a rather dilapidated shelter, using the lightweight panels of the stasis boxes for the roof, and local wood for the sides.
"Stars, I'm no builder," Luke complained. "Would Han do a better job?"
The Wookiee shrugged, saying that Han was probably as good a carpenter as anything else, besides being a gifted mechanic. Still, the Wookiee and the Jedi managed to build a serviceable house that looked like a cross between a barn and a tent. Twenty-four pairs of eyes followed their every move.
Luke smiled at the children. He hadn't known what to expect when he brought them out of stasis. They were seven years old physically, but as helpless as newborns. They had to be taught to walk and speak. It took hours of patient coaching to teach them how to eat. The task of communicating with them seemed difficult at first, until Luke tried to read their thoughts and let them read his mind. The first experience was shocking. The children rummaged through his brain like other children attack and discover the contents of a toy chest. They called up images that frightened them, and they huddled around Luke for comfort. Whatever he thought or did was a new source of information for them. Soon he got used to the constant mental barrage, the fact that he was never alone, not even in his thoughts. It was comfort for Luke, too, not just for the children. And teaching was easier now; the boys picked up information fast, without being told. They were unnervingly alike, they always wanted the same thing at the same time, and Luke worried a little about them - developing independent personalities might be more difficult than he'd imagined.
By the time the shelter was up, the boys were able to walk. Chewie watched them follow a very proud Skywalker into the makeshift building. "Like a mother nerf with her newlings." The Wookiee grinned.
"Our home." Luke smiled back at him. "Well, I've never imagined I'd have twenty-four sons. How many cubs do Wookiees have?"
"Six," Chewie said, "but they're a lot faster and a lot less obedient."
"Mine won't be this obedient for long, I bet. Right now they don't know any better."
"And they won't if they'll keep reading your mind. They'll know that you'd like to see them do some mischief, and they'll do some mischief just to please you." The Wookiee sighed. "Mindlink is a very powerful thing. I Think you'd do better weaning them from it as soon as you can."
"I'll have to play this by ear, but I guess you're right," Luke agreed. He surveyed his charges. "The Force is very strong in them. I can hardly wait to show them to Han."
"He'll come as soon as he's through buying a few things on Corell for you," Chewie said. "He can't imagine how anyone can live without technology. My people managed without it for centuries...:Nature provides all a being needs."
"But you're still a spacer. Nature never provided ships..." Luke laughed. The children echoed the laughter, not because they understood his words, but because they enjoyed his good mood. Chewie shook his shaggy head.
"Did you name them yet?"
"I know I should have," Luke frowned. "I can't think of twenty-four suitable names."
"You should name them anyway... Names are very important."
They spent the rest of the evening sitting by a small fire of Chewie's making, debating names while the children slept quietly around them, soothed by their low voices and the steady noise of the rain.
"I can't leave the children!" Luke protested. He stood in the ring of the frightened boys, stunned by Han's idea that he should go back for the hearings.
"Do you want to live without hiding again?" Han asked. "This h'orhergelte hearing must be done. If they decide to hang you for being Vader's son, I swear the five Corellian oaths I'll help you get away, and you can hide all you want. However, if they drop their stupid charges, you'll be able to get the kids a home on a less slimy planet. They'll never grow up to be normal, individual beings if you're their only company. Chewie can stay with them for a while."
"They know him already," Luke replied, "but they can't read him very easily."
"Good for them, they'll practice talking." Han flashed a wide grin at the boys who stared back at him, trying to get into his mind. "Cut this out! Luke, tell them not to do this. It's worse than a hangover headache."
"Only if you resist it."
"Maybe I have indecent thoughts I don't want them to read. Huh?"
"That cannot be helped. I wish I'd had someone to help me understand my Force sensitivity when I was a kid. Sometimes I was very confused... reading the thoughts of others... I knew I was different somehow. Leia needs help, too." Luke sighed. "You're right, I must go to Mord. I have to clear this mess up. I'm not cut out to be a hermit like Kenobi or Yoda."
Han made faces at the children, trying to get them to smile. He had no success. They knew he'd come for Luke.
"I'll bring him back," Han told them. "I swear. Takh Solo anid graal, by all five Corellian oaths, I'll bring him back to you."
Without the "Skywalker question", Leia Organa-Solo would have been the chairman of the Ethics Committee. In the light of the "developments", the committee was chaired by Admiral Ackbar whom most beings considered utterly neutral. On the first day of the hearings, his first witness was Han Solo. They were in a small office, just the two of them, but the holorecorders broadcasted their conversation to the chambers of the New Senate and everywhere else in the Galaxy.
"Members of General Solo's Endor group have testified, that Commander Skwalker left them on the eve of the mission. No one saw him 'til the night of the celebration. General Solo, why didn't you report this?"
The Corellian shifted in his seat. "It was a very dangerous mission. Skywalker wasn't the only one who got separated from us."
"Skywalker told Organa that he was going to meet Darth Vader. I understand you asked her about it afterwards, and she refused to answer. General Solo, in the light of the importance of your mission, how could you accept that one of your commanders had walked off, and the other denied information about it?"
Solo slammed his fist on the table. "Look, I'm not one of your regular Generals! I know kraat about procedures! All I knew was that Skywalker was a Jedi, and for all I cared, he could come and go as he pleased. He never screwed me before; I had no reason to ask what got into him. And if I get my hands on the bugger who told you this, I'll make him regret it."
"Threats, General?"
"General your foot!" Solo took off his uniform coat and threw it on the desk. "This is how far I'm willing to go. I'm a free trader, and if I played General for your Rebellion, I'm not playing General for this bureaucratic farce. I resign." He turned towards the glass eyes of the holorecorder. "You can all kiss my... insignia."
Ackbar's voice sounded harsher than usual. "General Solo, it's not that easy. We cannot walk out just because we have a... little point to clear up. It is clear that you had no idea of Skywalker's whereabouts. What about Organa?"
"She was in great distress about the whole thing," Solo said, anger burning his face. "She was worried about Skywalker. After all, she had just learned that he's her brother. And lemme clear this up! Those two had no idea who the hell their father was. They gave their whole life to your Rebellion. If Luke went to Vader, it was to try and get him to help us. That boy has more guts than any of you. No one has the right to take him apart! Who cares what a man is, if he's a good fighter, a good friend and a good pilot? Since when is the Alliance so bloody picky? Who asked Luke about his ancestry when he volunteered to shoot down the Death Star? You were dying for good pilots, you even wanted me!" Solo roared. "Better say it now, I'm a goddamn smuggler, a pirate; and I've brought more spice off the Rim than anyone else. Kraat of kraats, you don't win a war with vestal virgins and the ladies of the knitting circle! You needed people with teeth! And if Vader's son had the kind of guts that wins wars, then 'twas Vader's blood you needed. And he gave it to ya, he would've given his last drop. Here, I've said all I'm gonna say in this goddamm arena!"
An excited crowd lined the entrance hall, waiting for Skywalker to arrive. He came alone, dressed in Jedi black, wearing his cape and his usual black gloves, not exactly the best attire to induce sympathy.
"Traitor!" someone shouted. "Liar! Darksider!"
Luke lowered his arms in a gesture of peace. "I am what I've always been, a Rebel pilot and a Jedi. It doesn't matter who my father was."
"Don't let him talk," a tall woman snapped. "He is using Jedi methods. Get him!"
A few people stepped back, confused, others actually attacked the young Jedi who slowly backed to the wall in a defensive posture. The tall woman looked around wildly. "Don't let him convince you! Vader's son must pay!"
Luke suddenly raised his hand. "Go now," he said. "Your anger is understandable, but not very productive. There are proper ways to handle this matter."
He appeared unharmed, although his uniform was torn in a few places. His calm, authoritative manner had a strange effect on the crowd. They withdrew, one by one, without even talking. The tall woman was now sobbing.
"You must have been greatly wronged by the Imperials," Luke told her gently. "I feel for you."
She buried her face in her hands and fled, confused and ashamed.
Luke walked, undisturbed, to the elevators.
As the hearings progressed, the hysteria against Luke and Leia grew daily. Nobody seemed to believe that Vader's children had been unaware of their heritage. A large crowd gathered in front of the Senate building every day, watching the hearings on portable holoprojectors, yelling loud comments.
"I'd rather we hadn't won this war," A young pilot talked loudly, "I'd rather fight another year than owe the victory to Vader's brats. There's something behind all this. Skywalker has been Vader's puppet all along. He brought the Imperials on us on Yavin, on Hoth. How come the Emperor knew about our attack plan at Endor? They were waiting for us!"
"This is a veritable riot," Ackbar said, indicating the excited crowd. "I wish Solo hadn't been so rash and so public about this business. We don't need such problems now."
"Isn't it better that we ourselves clear it up before some other source starts pointing fingers? Vader's people are still out there. Thousands of influential men lost their status with the fall of the Empire. All would be glad to discredit the New Government," Luke said. "I'll cooperate with the hearings..."
"I'm glad you understand our point of view," Ackbar said. "It's my point of view as well. I still belong to the Alliance." There was a trace of bitterness in the Jedi's voice. "Don't start treating me differently. Admiral, please understand, it is imperative that the leaders of the Alliance don't give in to the emotional shock. I know how you feel. I know how everybody feels. I felt the same way."
"Honestly," Ackbar said rather roughly. "When I first heard of it, I felt betrayed."
"And that's how I felt," Skywalker replied.
"For a whole year?" the Admiral exclaimed. "You learned this on Bespin! Why couldn't you inform the High Command at least? Why were you silent? Explain! You were meeting with Vader. The Empire knew about every move we made. How? Vader traced you! How many lives were lost, because you, repeatedly, led him to us?"
The question hit Skywalker hard. Ackbar saw the shiver that ran through his slender body and thought the Jedi might collapse under the weight of the accusation. A Calamari would commit suicide for a lesser charge, for just a shade of such sin. Humans were thick-skinned, Ackbar knew, and felt sorry for this young one who didn't know how much more honorable and how much easier it would be to step out of this pain into the peaceful haven of the grave. He wondered if he should suggest the idea to the Jedi.
Ackbar patiently questioned scores of witnesses, whether they were testifiying for or against Skywalker. After the first couple of days, it became clear that General Solo had done absolutely nothing that could be held against him, except that he'd never bothered to report Skywalker's desertion on Endor. A very understandable omission, considering he'd had a bunker to destroy. The charges against him were dropped. He nevertheless resigned his commission and no longer appeared at the hearings.
On the fourth day, Princess Organa-Solo was exonerated as well, albeit not as smoothly as Solo, but even the most rabid accusers admitted that, with her background, record, and responsibilities, she'd had precious little to do with whatever relationship Luke had with Vader. She was admonished for not publicly admitting the truth, but everyone agreed that it had been a political decision, if not exactly the right one. Everybody thought that Organa would never get any further in the New Government, but no less than seven systems asked her to be their representative in the New Senate. All of them were kingdoms. After this, Organa was not seen at the hearings either.
By this time, the excitement had lessened, and murderous rage gave way to heated arguments. A small group of pilots defended Skywalker, but almost everyone else thought he should be either executed or imprisoned for life. Han began to realize that those were valid possibilities. By this time, it was proven that Luke had learned of his identity on Bespin when he'd met Vader there. Audio and video recordings showed the exchange of words between them. "Rule the galaxy as father and son..." was a sentence that shocked everyone.
They stood in a small chamber reserved for the Comittee. Ackbar asked for a short recess after the Bespin tape had been shown. He wanted to talk to the Jedi in private, without the everpresent holovid eyes.
"When you stepped off the platform," Ackbar asked, "was it an escape attempt, or suicide?"
"The latter," Skywalker answered quietly.
"A very honorable decision," the Calamari said, touching the Jedi's hand with his own leathery fingers.
Skywalker returned the touch. "You think I should?"
"I know it wouldn't be a very human solution," Ackbar answered gently, "but the Mon Calamari would be proud of you."
"Admiral, what are my chances?" Skywalker asked suddenly.
"It is almost sure now that you will be sent to psychiatric evaluation." Ackbar looked at Luke with mournful yellow eyes.
"Prison or hospital?"
"That remains to be seen."
Skywalker smiled. How different it would be, he thought, without the boys. I'd be very vulnerable to the temptation... But now, all he wanted was to get back to Dagobah. My life is not my own to dispose of anymore. I can't let them vaste my time. Psychiatric evaluation? Damn, who can evaluate me? Who dares?
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