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In the stories, there were moments that became lifetimes, when a person stood at a crossroad and knew that their choice would alter the course of history forever. Ben wondered if this must be one of those moments. Something indescribable told him that in the space of a few heartbeats his life would change -- or end. Yet he could not bring himself to be apprehensive. There was only the now and the knowledge that he was very possibly facing his killer.
The Sith's blood-red blade dipped fractionally as he stared at Ben, who in turn set his jaw and tried to still his trembling. He wanted desperately to be anywhere else, but he did not dare move lest he jeopardize whatever circumstances had bought him an extra moment of life. But he did not dare remain where he was. He summoned the last scraps of his courage and shifted his weight slightly.
The movement broke the spell. "Who are you, boy?" Rage's sudden rumble was soft and deadly. "No lies. I will know."
"Ben." Strange, how his voice sounded so calm his heart was pounding so rapidly. The Sith's eyes narrowed. Ben realized that whatever answer he had been expecting, that had definitely not been it. But there was nothing he could do. He was in no position to lie now. He licked dry lips and forced the rest of the words past a dry throat. "My name is Ben Darklighter."
"Your parents' names. Now."
"Dev and Kali. They're dead," he added bitterly.
Rage tilted his head to one side and, unbidden, what faint memories he had of his parents flashed through his head. Dev's green eyes, Kali's fiery hair, the sensation of flying among the stars, the aura of sadness and strength -- they came and went in a heartbeat.
Ben balled his hands into fists. "Get out of my head!" He pushed -- against what, he was not sure -- and the last remnants of the memories faded away. He fumbled for half of his broken blaster rifle and held it like a club, trying to figure out how to damage the Sith. All the while Rage just watched him, as if he was a particularly intriguing puzzle.
Then shouts and blaster bolts came from somewhere behind them. Ben looked past Rage to the flashes of orange reflecting off the walls, and he heard very familiar voices shouting his name. "Ben! Ben, where are you?"
Rage half-turned casually, as if ready to strike down Ben's rescuer. Somehow Ben found his voice. "Jessa! Look out!"
But the gunrunner had already rounded the corner, blaster rifle at ready. If she was surprised to see Rage, she did not show it. "Let him go," she ordered.
Rage smirked. "I didn't know Calrissians confronted the Empire head-on." He raised his lightsaber threateningly. "Run away, girl."
"Let him go," Jessa repeated. And, astonishingly, she took a step forward. "Are you going to strike me down? Don't delude yourself. You can't touch me. My father will nullify every contract he has with your Empire and hand his shipments over to the Rebellion. How much damage could they do with that many weapons, I wonder?"
The sound of blaster fire died down. Now Hal and Lumpy appeared behind Jessa, both watching Rage warily. Ben never took his eyes off of Jessa, hardly daring to believe his ears. Maybe her father was a wealthy businessman, but no private citizen was that powerful. It was a bluff, and sooner or later Rage was going to figure that out. Probably sooner.
Sure enough, the Sith let out a horrible laugh. "You're as naive as your father, Calrissian."
"Let him go or I shoot."
Rage just stood calmly, a mocking smile tugging at his features. "Do your best."
Jessa took aim.
And then the blast doors slid open.
***
"Solo? Solo! What happened?" Malinza made a grab for Han's arm, but finely honed reflexes allowed him to twist free without slowing down. The governor was doing an admirable job of keeping up with him and Jagged, especially considering her cumbersome robes, but she still looked confused.
Han decided she could stay that way. He did not know what part the Bakuran played in all of this, but he knew that she did not matter half as much as the wide-eyed boy Jessa had introduced him to. He wanted to berate himself for not keeping a closer eye on Ben, but how was he supposed to know that something like this was going to happen? This was different.
Someone is distorting things, Skywalker supplied. There are those in the now who did not exist in the before.
"That was the most unhelpful piece of garbage I've ever heard," Han muttered under his breath.
Just shut up and hurry. And stop talking out loud, for the Force's sake. You're going to get yourself committed.
Indeed, Malinza and Jagged were exchanging the sort of looks that were more often used around crazy people. [Not that I'm not half-crazy myself,] Han added grimly. [I can't believe I'm doing this.]
Old habit and a decent memory allowed him to find the appropriate junction without too much trouble. "That way," he ordered his charges. "There's a freighter there called the Millennium Falcon. Get it powered up. Leave when you can't stay any longer. Understand?"
Malinza narrowed her eyes. "What aren't you telling us?"
"Enough."
There must have been some deeper meaning in his words, because the two exchanged another look, this time full of silent understanding. They hurried down the corridor, eventually vanishing from sight.
Which left Han alone. Just like he needed to be.
What do you think you're doing? Skywalker demanded.
Han tightened his grip on his blaster rifle. "What do you think I'm doing? I'm going to face Rage."
At least wait until you and Corran can --
"No. This is between him and me."
There was a long silence before Skywalker spoke again. Then you'll die.
Han had to smile at that. "How would that be a bad thing?"
Fool. This isn't just about you. It's about Ben.
"Good. Maybe I can save him."
From Rage, or from his destiny?
Han did not answer that. Mostly because he could think of nothing to say.
***
[The other one. I forgot the other one.]
Ben watched in utter horror as a second lightsaber -- this time as golden as a sun -- ignited behind the blast doors. This time its bearer was the blond woman he had seen with Rage during their interrogation, the one who had asked all the questions. Behind her were two stormtroopers. Between them they held Melody, who had added several bruises to the collection already discoloring her face. Ben felt cold claws digging into his heart. Jessa stopped her advance and lowered her blaster, a horrified look crossing her face.
"Mel!" Hal took a step forward, only to be stopped by Lumpy. The young smuggler's face twisted into a horrified grimace.
Melody gave him a cocky grin that almost hid the fear in her eyes. "Hey. Look at the mess you got yourself into." Her gaze swept the others before finally coming to rest on Rage, as if she had just noticed him. "Not you again."
Rage's lip curled into a sneer. "You let her live." It was a statement of fact, nothing more or less. Ben could not tell whether or not he disapproved.
"She was trying to reach the freighter. I thought she might be of some use before we space her." The woman with the lightsaber looked at Hal as she spoke, no doubt expecting a reaction. Nor was she disappointed. Hal went very pale and clutched at his blaster rifle. He obviously wanted to open fire, but he did not dare.
Jessa seemed at a loss. When she did speak, she sounded very young. "Please let them go. I can...I can make it worth your while. My father -- "
"Silence," Rage growled. "I care nothing for you or your father." Abruptly he extinguished his lightsaber and stood perfectly at ease, as if he did not have Jessa's blaster levelled at his head. He turned those horrible eyes on Hal, who took an involuntary step backwards. "I will release the girl. You, Calrissian, and the Wookie may leave on the freighter."
Ben blinked. [What?] He saw Melody and the woman with the lightsaber give the Sith equally confused looks.
Hal just narrowed his eyes. "What's the catch?"
Rage said nothing.
Jessa's eyes flew to Ben. She knew, he realized suddenly. He could see it in her expression. Somehow she knew that Rage had discovered that he could use the Force. He was as much the prize as Melody. The only reason he had not simply been carried off was because of whatever scant importance Jessa's father possessed. A wealthy businessman was all that was keeping the others alive. And who knew how long that was going to last?
"All right," he said quietly.
"No!" Melody struggled against the two stormtroopers. Despite the fact that she barely came up to their chins, she was still causing them problems. "Ben, they're just going to space us! They don't care about -- "
The woman backhanded her viciously, producing a despairing curse from Hal. Ben did not have to look at the smuggler to know that if Melody died, most of him would die too. He did not pretend to understand whatever bond it was they shared, but he could feel it.
Jessa shook her head once. "That's unacceptable."
"You are in no position to argue." Rage nodded to the stormtroopers, who threw Melody unceremoniously to the deck. Ben had barely taken a step toward her when rough hands grabbed him from behind and dragged him backwards. He did not bother to struggle. Instead he kept his eyes on Jessa, who moved aside to let Hal help Melody up. The two clung to each other for a few moments, lost in their own little world. Then suddenly Jessa stepped around them and rushed over to Ben, embracing him desperately.
"Enough." Rage gestured once. Jessa stumbled backwards as if pushed by an invisible hand. She smiled weakly, although there was a strange liquid glitter in her eyes. Hal and Melody broke apart and turned to face Ben. He watched them all for a long moment, because he might never see them again. What did the Sith want with him, of all people? Where was Han? What had happened to Malinza and Jagged? Were they even alive?
This isn't the end.
Ben almost stopped breathing. That was not the insistant voice from Hermit's Hut. He had heard it somewhere, a long time ago...
This is the beginning. Be strong, little one.
Rage looked at the woman with the lightsaber. "Luwellaen. Take them to freighter." There was a sort of rippling in his words, as if he was saying two things at once. Maybe he was telling her something with the Force. Ben wished he knew what was really being said.
Then Luwellaen and the stormtroopers closed in on his friends and they were herded away.
He looked at Rage's face, trying to read what was written there. The Sith just looked back at him as more muted form of his earlier surprise played across his features. Ben swallowed around a lump in his throat.
"Are you going to execute me?" he asked finally.
Rage just pointed toward the opened bulkhead doors. He did not speak. Ben just nodded woodenly and stumbled in the indicated direction.
Be strong.
[I'm trying,] he thought desperately. [I don't know how.] He sought a memory that would make him brave enough to fight back somehow. For some reason it was Jessa who came to mind. Jessa leading him away from Hermit's Hut. Jessa bullying the stormtroopers in Mos Eisley. Jessa trying to force-feed him her stew. Jessa smiling.
Jessa hugging him, trying to be courageous for him as she quietly gave him one last gift.
Her vibroblade.
***
There were three stormtroopers standing guard around the rundown freighter. They looked singularly bored -- unsurprising, since anyone who wanted to steal such an obvious piece of junk was clearly insane. They still maintained a grip on their blaster rifles, however. Admiral Archimedes had run a tight ship, and now Darth Rage had each individual soldier privately fearing for his life.
Malinza ducked back into the tiny alcove she and Jagged Fel had taken refuge in. Even though they both had weapons, three stormtroopers was still one too many. "Any sign of the others?" she whispered.
"No." Jagged tapped a few keys on the tiny control panel. Originally it had been intended to monitor calls, but a few of Malinza's passwords had given him access to higher functions. "It looks like someone broke into the high-security storage rooms and stole two droids, a datadot, a necklace and..." He looked up at Malinza. "And a lightsaber."
[Oh, frag.] Malinza squared her shoulders and drew herself up to her full height -- which admittedly was not much. "If you start spouting that nonsense about the evil Jedi Order, I will hit you hard enough to make you wish your father had never kissed your mother."
Jagged turned away, muttering something unintelligable.
Malinza frowned at him. "What was that?"
"Nothing."
"Obviously not. What did you say?"
Jagged turned a baleful glare on her. "I said, 'I already wish that'. Are you happy now?"
There was a long silence broken only by the sound of whirring machines. Then Malinza sighed and did something rare. She apologized. "I'm sorry."
Jagged laughed hoarsely. He looked very young and very old at the same time.
"Are you all right?" Malinza asked softly.
"Of course I'm all right. It's nothing. Just...forget about it." He waved his hand in the direction of the Falcon. "Just go keep watch for the other Rebels or whatever you're doing."
Again there was the heavy silence. Again Malinza was the one who broke it. "What happened to your father, Jagged?"
He did not look up. "Doesn't my uncle know?"
"No, he doesn't. He can't exactly march into the Emperor's sanctum and demand answers."
"Why not? He'd be doing me a favor." Almost before the words left Jagged's mouth, a startled look crossed his face, as if he had not really meant what he had said. Now it was his turn to apologize. "Sorry."
"Apology accepted." Malinza crossed her arms. "So what happened?"
"What do you think happened? He tried to stage a military coup. He was stripped of his rank and executed."
Malinza nodded slowly. That made sense, even if she had been hoping otherwise. "When was this?"
"Eight standard years ago."
"That's why you're here, aren't you?" She did not mean to blurt the question out, but she could not help it. "That's why you're a stormtrooper."
Jagged smiled grimly. "No, I'm a stormtrooper because the great Wynssa Starflare decided to protect me by handing me over to an orphanage. This was my only way out."
"You could have gone to your uncle."
"And say what? 'Hi, Uncle Wedge. I know my father was an enemy of the Rebellion and all, but would you mind helping me out?'" He shook his head. "Thanks, but no thanks."
Malinza stared at him. "You really think Admiral Antilles would have turned you away?"
"Why not? My mother did."
For a long time Malinza tried to find an answer to that, but she could think of nothing. Finally she turned her attention back to Falcon and left Jagged with his thoughts.
***
None of the officers and stormtroopers hurrying through the corridors of Imperial center gave Rage and his prisoner so much as a passing glance. They knew better. Even the stormtroopers had been dismissed after they had placed the boy's hands in binders. Rage intended to find out the truth, and he wanted to make sure that no one heard -- not a simple soldier, not Luwellaen, not even the Emperor. Not if what he had begun to suspect was true.
He wondered how old the boy was. Seventeen? Eighteen? Surely no more than that. He had an accent few save Rage himself would have recognized, since few others came from the area around the Dune Sea on the planet farthest from the bright center of the universe. At first glance he seemed completely incapable of any bravery, but that had been proven wrong when he had offered himself in favor of his friends. Perhaps Rage should inform him that, due to economic considerations, Calrissian's daughter would in fact be spared. He did not think the boy would understand why the others, as Rebels, had to die.
And then there was the matter of who the boy resembled. Yes, his hair was darker, but there were still highlights that caught the light like flashes of starfire. His eyes were brilliant green, just like...
The images came unbidden. A flash of green against red. A severed limp that revealed not flesh and bone, but cold circuitry. A look that was more sensation than sight. And the green blade descending -- on the man newly reborn, on the woman who was his equal and his opposite, on --
No.
But the memory would not be ignored. It rose up, as powerful now as it had been thirteen years before, when he had been the one with the scarlet blade. She had managed to take his eye before he had slain her.
And it was not fair, it was not right, because she should have been the Lady Rage. She should have been the mother of the Imperial Prince and Princess, she should have been the one who gave Denilee her courage and Mikel his sense of purpose, she should have been the one standing at his side...
I can say her name.
The boy -- Ben -- watched him warily, his fear and strange, quiet strength radiating from him. Those eyes, as knowing and intense as any Imperial commander's, never left Rage's face, as if seeking a clue or some knowledge that would help him escape.
He has her eyes.
I am looking at Mara's son.
***
Ben made himself put one foot in front of the other, barely aware of where he was being led. Scattered thoughts whirled through his mind. Maybe my parents were Jedi. Maybe Rage killed them. But if that's true, why didn't he just kill me too?
He shivered as if he had been struck by a cold wind. There was something about just being in the Sith's presence that made him feel filthy. Maybe it had something to do with the Force. He did not know. All he was sure of was the fact that he had to find a way to escape. Otherwise he was surely going to face a fate worse than death.
But he had to know. For a moment Ben's curiosity was stronger than his fear, and in the end, that moment was all that was necessary. "Why didn't you kill me?"
Rage turned baleful eyes on him. "What makes you think I won't?"
"If you wanted to kill me, you would have. I couldn't have stopped you." Ben looked down at the stuffed boots he had stolen from the Imperial officer. They were too small and they hurt his feet. "I guess I still can't," he added softly.
He did not know what answer he was expecting. Maybe none. Instead the Sith spoke in a strange, strangled voice. "You look like a...a former acquaintance."
"My great-uncle was a famous Rebel," Ben said, only half-surprised at the pride in his voice.
Rage nodded once. "Biggs Darklighter. I know. He died at Yavin."
Ben did not add that Rage had also been at Yavin, since it was common knowledge even on Tatooine. Instead he just met the Sith's eyes and spat, "You're probably the one who shot him down."
He never even saw Rage's hand move. All he knew was that suddenly his head was being wrenched back as he was backhanded across the jaw. He squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden sting of tears. I'm eighteen standard years old, he told himself firmly, his fingers tightening on the vibroblade he still concealed. I'm not going to cry. And he did not. His eyes were dry when he opened them.
"What's the matter?" he asked bitterly. "Did I strike a nerve?"
"You will never mention that name again!" Rage snarled. Ben took an involuntary step backwards. He had never seen the Sith raise his voice before, and he hoped he never had to again. He stood with his back pressed against the bulkhead, fervently wishing that even the lowliest stormtrooper would enter the small, deserted corridor and at least deflect some of the Sith's wrath. It was too much to hope for. No one came. He could only remain silent and watch.
In a few moments Rage's voice had returned to its measured, rumbling hiss. "Biggs Darklighter did not have to die. He chose to become a Rebel. Just like you have chosen, boy."
The sheer injustice of that accusation drove Ben's fear away completely. Anger rose up in its place, white-hot and powerful. "I didn't choose anything!" he protested. "I'm not a Rebel, okay? I'm a mechanic! I fix things! I don't want to fight the Empire or...or whatever it is Rebels do. I want to be left alone!"
"You lie well. Even to yourself." Rage narrowed his eyes. "But you cannot hide from what you are." He leaned closer, and Ben tried to shrink back again, except there was nowhere else to go. "You can use the Force."
"I don't want to."
For a split second the Sith actually seemed taken aback. Perhaps it was only a trick of the light, some phantom that Ben's paralyzed mind had created. "It does not matter what you want. Your mother was a great Force-user -- "
"She was a mechanic!" Ben shouted. "Just like my dad! Just like me!" Fire-haired Kali, with her strength and her sadness and something else very important that he could almost remember...
"She was a servant of the Empire," Rage corrected, obviously relishing every word. "She turned against her master, and she was...punished. Do not make her mistake."
The hesitation was so slight that if Ben had not been paying careful attention, he would not have noticed it. As it was, it pulled that last, hazy memory rudely into existence. His mother bending over him, smiling down at him, as he reached out to touch a silver cylinder hanging from her belt.
And suddenly he saw the truth.
"She became a Rebel," he whispered. "She was one of the Jedi Knights."
He fully expected Rage to strike him again. Instead a strange emotion flitted across the Sith's face. If Ben had not known it to be impossible, he would have said it was pain. He had to press his advantage, somehow knock the Sith off-balance. Only he had no idea how to do that. He did not like the thought of manipulating anyone's emotions. Melody would have been better at this. Or Jessa. Or maybe even Hal.
"Maybe my mother was a Rebel," he said quietly. "Maybe she was even a Jedi. I'm not her. I don't remember her." He did not add the thought that ran around and around his head. I don't remember her because you killed her.
Rage's head came up. Too late Ben remembered that the Sith seemed able to hear his thoughts, especially those as strong as that one. For a moment he was sure he was sure that Rage had two blue eyes, real blue eyes --
"Don't let him see them! Go! Run!"
-- and then the illusion was gone. Something flung Ben up against the bulkhead, an invisible hand that lifted him by his throat and held him up so high that his boots no longer reached the deck. "You are lucky I do not execute you now."
Ben tried to push out with the Force, just like he had done with the stormtroopers, but this time there was no tangible target. He could only struggle helplessly as the grip on his throat tightened, sealing away what might have been defiant last words or simple pleas for mercy...
Then he was on his knees on the deck, gasping for air. Rage had half-turned away from him, instead looking down the hallway. His lips were curled into a horrible smile. "Have you come to challenge me, then?"
Someone slid out of the shadows. Han. Ben clenched his bound hands into fists and slowly edged away from Rage, his eyes never leaving the smuggler. He fumbled for the switch on Jessa's vibroblade. If he could just find some way to muffle its distinctive hum -- if he could just get his hands free -- then maybe he and Han would both have a chance.
Like Jessa, Han kept his blaster aimed at Rage as he approached. Unlike Jessa, he seemed to be watching with two sets of eyes, if that was even possible. "This isn't how it's supposed to happen."
"Yet it is happening nonetheless. You cannot change what must be, Solo."
Han's lip curled into a sneer. "You made a mistake," he said coldly. "You think that he's like you."
"And I am the only one guilty of that?" Rage asked softly. Dangerously. "You've assigned yourself Kenobi's role. Do not believe that I will spare you."
"Why would I think that?" Han spat. "You didn't spare anyone else."
Rage laughed. It was a terrible sound that made Ben's heart freeze in his chest. He twisted the vibroblade into position, pressing it against the binders' fastenings, and tried to look as small as possible.
The Sith did not even notice him. "I admired you once," he hissed. "No longer. I have risen above you, and you have become a worthless parasite feeding on another generation's pity."
"You haven't risen anywhere," Han growled. "If I kill you, the galaxy celebrates. If you kill me, you lose everything. I'm more powerful than you."
And then he looked right at Ben, as if telling him to watch -- as if somehow this was nothing more than a lesson and not a life hanging in the balance. Ben could not even speak.
Ben felt the intention before Rage ignited his lightsaber, but he did not have the time to form the words. Instead he could only watch helplessly as, almost faster than the eye could follow, the Sith struck.
***
"NO!"
Ben's scream tore from him, echoing around him without seeming to reach his ears, and yet he could not remember forming the horrified denial. He was seeing the blade descending as if in slow motion, but moving so quickly that the air parted for it, and Han just stood there, because how could Han have known what was to come -- that he was going to be cut down?
And then, impossibly, Han twisted to one side. Instead of cleaving him in two, the lightsaber left a deep slice across the smuggler's torso. The sickly-sweet smell of burnt flesh almost made Ben gag. As Han staggered back, his blaster falling from hands twisted into claws, the vibroblade sliced through the binders and Ben staggered to his feet. The horror and hatred pounding through him lent him courage as he dove around the Sith to stand protectively in front of Han.
"If you want to kill him, you'll have to kill me too." Somehow his voice had become strong and commanding. He stared right at Rage's face. "I don't think you can."
Rage stood with his lightsaber at ready, but he did not strike. "He is not worth dying for."
Ben took a step forward. "I decide who I'm going to protect. Not you." He remembered Han's strange words just before Rage had attacked. "You made a mistake. You think he's like you." Why would he be anything like a Sith? The words made no sense, and yet he was proud of them. He looked up at Rage and felt stronger than he ever had before. "I'm not like you."
Again that strange flash of almost-pain crossed the Sith's face. Ben just stood where he was, his heart trying to hammer itself out of his chest, and told himself that if this was how it was going to end, then so be it. He had not been able to protect his family and the rest of Draco's Well. He had not been able to protect Jessa. At least he could protect Han.
"I'm not like you."
"I know you won't kill me. You're not like them."
"If you strike me down, I will become more powerful than you can possibly imagine."
And suddenly, over and above the jumbled thoughts/memories, a voice that was not his own.
Hold on, Ben. We're coming.
***
"All right," Hal muttered under his breath. "I told him. I don't know if he actually heard."
"He did. And Luwellaen didn't notice." Jessa threw a grateful glance at Melody, who was snarling at Luwellaen, attacking her with verbal abuse and, when all else failed, any number of rude gestures. Hal had to grin. His girlfriend was a walking, talking distraction.
With an effort he looked back at Jessa. "Now what?" he whispered.
"Now we wait for the right moment."
"You mean when she's about ready to kill Melody?"
Jessa's lips pressed into a thin line. "Well...yes."
"You didn't tell her, did you?"
"I didn't have a chance. She's doing this on her own."
The stream of obscenities continued, apparently without a pause for breath. Mostly it involved Luwellaen's mother having an anatomically impossible relationship with a Hutt, complete with graphic imagery that left Hal feeling slightly queasy. Luwellaen's face was starting to turn red. Any minute now...
"Silence!" The Imp rounded on Melody, who just kept right on going. Luwellaen reached for her lightsaber --
And then Melody went rigid, her eyes unfocused and glazed, her back spasming until she was supported only by two stormtroopers. Her voice dropped an octave. "Thrice they come and thrice they fall, the son unto the son. Worlds shatter before them and kings tremble at their feet."
Luwellaen took a step forward. "A vision?" she whispered. "Another Force-sensitive?"
Hal just looked at Jessa. She shook her head, as confused as he. This is crazy Mel's about as Force-sensitive as the average rock.
Isn't she?
Luwellaen leaned closer to Melody, who was still spouting nonsense. "An angel rises as he fell. The light blazes forth. The challenge is issued."
"What are you speaking of?" Luwellaen demanded, grabbing Melody and shaking her roughly. "What does this mean?"
Melody looked right at her. "The frag-lover takes the bait." And then she lashed out, head-butting their captor squarely between the eyes. At the same time, Jessa tackled the nearest stormtrooper. That was all Hal needed. He stretched out blindly, fumbling for something he could not see, and tried to picture the most horrible creature he could think of. One of the three remaining Imps turned and fled, but the other two held their ground just long enough for a very irate Lumpy to pick them up and bang them together.
As suddenly as it had begun, the strange battle ended. Jessa, Hal and Lumpy all turned to stare at Melody, who was pocketing Luwellaen's lightsaber. She gave them a cross look. "What?"
"Where did that come from?" Hal asked weakly.
"My head." Melody shrugged. "That's what she gets for putting too much faith in the Force."
"You just made that up?"
"No, I rehearsed it ahead of time." Melody smacked him on the shoulder. "Of course I just made it up! Now shut up and give me a blaster."
Jessa handed her one of the stormtroopers' weapons. "We have to find Ben."
"He's with Rage," Hal pointed out grimly. "Unless one of you is carrying a few pocket Jed..." He saw the look the others were giving him. "Oh. I'm the pocket Jedi."
"No. Rage doesn't know about you. He never will if I can help it." Melody pulled out the lightsaber and held it carefully, as if she was afraid it might explode. "This doesn't look too hard," she said as she ignited it, producing the now-familiar golden blade. She gave it a few test swings. "I can probably hold off -- "
Lumpy jumped back angrily as Melody almost took off his arm. She glared at him, but at least she deactivated the lightsaber and returned it to her pocket. "Let's get going, huh?"
Jessa nodded woodenly. "Please."
Hal put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey. Calm down, okay? We'll get him back."
"Just don't do something stupid," Melody added. "That's my job."
Jessa's weak smile was forced. "I know." She pushed Hal away and started off down the corridor, leaving the others no choice but to follow after her.
***
"Anakin?"
The voice was soft, barely audible over the distant sound of Imperial concussion bombs. Nonetheless, the last Jedi apprentice heard the question clearly. "I know, Master Corran. I shouldn't be out here."
Corran Horn did not answer. Instead he sat beside Anakin on the top of the camoflauged bunker's sloping roof. The sky was cloudless, leaving the world open to the unceasing eyes of the stars. If Anakin ignored the ruins, it was possible for him to imagine how Naboo had looked once. But that was all it was: an imagining, a phantom that no amount of hope would ever restore. Even if the Empire was defeated and peace was restored to the galaxy, he would never know the gentle people that the few scanty records referred to in such vague, glowing terms. The Naboo his grandmother had known was gone forever, and no amount of rebuilding would ever erase the scars from the survivors' hearts and souls.
"I... I felt something," he said finally, his eyes never leaving the distant stars. "I don't know what it was, but it seems like I should know it. It's familiar."
"I know," Corran said quietly. "It involves your father."
Anakin tore his gaze away from the heavens so he could stare at the Corellian. "My...?" He could not even say the word. His father was a vague figure who had walked out of his life just after his mother had died. He barely remembered him, save for a few scattered images. While he knew plenty about the legendary Leia Organa Solo, his father was completely blank. "Is he coming here?" He was not sure if the discordant note in his voice was hope or apprehension. Or maybe hatred.
Corran sighed heavily. "I don't know. Something impotant has happened. The only thing we can do now is go along with Lucéa's plan. We wait."
"I don't like waiting," Anakin muttered.
His master smiled wearily. "Neither do I."
The thump of the concussion bombs was the only sound. There were no more words spoken as both Jedi watched the stars, perhaps hoping they contained all the answers.
***
Han clenched his hands into fists and made himself stay upright. He did not know why he was still alive -- only that it had something to do with his unwelcome passenger and a desperate, whispered warning. This was not how it was supposed to work. He was supposed to free Skywalker, let him help Ben, let him guide the boy for what might yet come to pass...
Better a real teacher than a ghost, the voice echoed in his head. You're more valuable to Ben alive.
There was no time to argue with the stubborn spirit. Han could barely force back the agony of his wound enough to remain standing, much less help Ben. Somehow he still managed to force out words of warning. "Don't, kid. This isn't your job."
"I'm not going to let him kill you," Ben said quietly, and Han knew in one heart-stopping moment that he meant every word. The young mechanic may have not have been loud or adventurous, but he still had the sort of quiet, reserved bravery that foolish people sometimes mistook for cowardice -- the sort of courage that was deeply buried, yet unwavering when it rose to the surface. He had decided that Han was a friend, and he was going to die for him if necessary.
No, kid. Not like that. You're our last chance. He looked right at Rage -- at the strange indecision written on the Sith's twisted features -- and felt his heart contract. You aren't ready for this, he told Ben silently. Maybe you'll never be ready.
He had to do something. He had to get the boy to run. Only how could he manage that? He was no Kenobi, no matter what Rage might claim. He was a smuggler. He had no access to the Force, no claim to a half-mythical knighthood.
But he had to try. That was all he had left. "This isn't about the boy," he said, staring past Ben at Rage. "Let him go. You don't need him."
Ben rounded on him, his eyes wide with hurt and disbelief. "No! You can't do that! You can't -- "
Han called on his last reserves of strength, ready to shove Ben roughly aside. Hopefully the voice would have enough sense to tell the boy to run, once he was free of whatever it was Leia had done to tie him to Han. Any moment now...
A second lightsaber's hum echoed through the corridor.
Get down!
Somehow Han managed to grab Ben and pull him to one side. Just in time, too; an emerald-green blade came flying down the corridor, slicing through anything and everything that stood in its way. Rage barely managed to dodge it in the narrow confines of the corridor. As the makeshift missile clattered away, the Sith spun around to snarl at the source of this newest attack. "Who dares?"
A slim woman in loose coveralls stood at the end of the corridor, a jagged length of pipe held loosely in one hand. As Han tried to come to grips with what he was seeing, she slid into a fighting stance. "You turned your back on a Guard," she said softly. "Big mistake."
Then she struck.
It was not like watching Jedi fight. Jedi had finesse and grace. Jedi had an otherworldly, ethereal air about them even when their lives were at stake. They remained calm even in the face of great odds, and they moved with a barely contained power that was all their own. This woman did not have the Force behind her. She gave nothing away, moving instead with a precision that only long years of constant training could have produced. She was not a Jedi, and maybe that was what mattered right now. Maybe as far as the Force was concerned, she was inconsequential.
Han did not have time to wonder. He only knew that their rescuer, however skilled she was, could not hold out against the Sith for very long. But maybe it would be long enough. "Come on, kid."
Ben shook his head. "We can't just -- "
"We can, and we will." He managed to haul the boy to his feet, although every breath felt like fire scorching across his torso. "Can you run?"
"You can't," Ben pointed out.
"I'm not important."
The answer to this was another headshake. "This isn't about you, is it? Just like it's not about me." He gripped the vibroblade tightly. "I'll get you to the Falcon. Then I'll come back for the admiral."
"The..." Abruptly Han understood. He knew he had seen their rescuer's face before -- on the holovids, when she had overseen Mon Mothma's public execution. Admiral Archimedes, the former Royal Guard. "I thought you said she died."
"I thought she did. I was wrong." The curtness of the answer did not seem at all in character for Ben. Han was forcibly reminded of the boy's mother, who had never spoken ten words when one would do. His eyes, like hers, resembled nothing so much as green fire at that moment. "Hurry," he hissed. "She can't hold Rage for long."
Han saw in an instant that Ben would not leave unless he did as well. And Ben had to escape. He was all that mattered. He allowed the boy to support him. "To the left. Go."
The sounds of the battle intensified behind them.
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