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Chapter Text

Ahsoka’s hand hovered over the reader, as it had countless times before. She had a few minutes while the computer ran the calculations for the jump to hyperspace. She should read the dispatches. The official dispatches from the Alliance Council, keeping everyone up-to-date with the successes and tribulations of the Alliance. A long list of them. And up until about six months ago, all of them were marked as read. Since then, a lot were still highlighted bright blue – unread.

She should really, really read them all. She was, after all, one of the Alliance’s main Intelligence operatives. It was important that she have all the information. And she should start with the one just under her fingertip, the one that said “Second Death Star Destroyed over Endor. Emperor Dead.” The one that seemed to make no mention of the death of her former master, the one marked with the date she had felt him die.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. She didn’t have the endurance any more, not since… Not that it mattered. She would do what needed to be done, no matter how much her heart ached or the tiredness pulled at her. Her finger hovered a moment longer above the dispatch, then scrolled down and opened the most recent one instead. She skimmed it, her eyes searching for certain keywords and turns of phrase, getting a feel for current operations.

Her comm beeped. A databurst, from – not an informant, exactly, but someone she had met once, casually, someone she had sounded out. She opened it. A set of co-ordinates, a time frame in local time and a single word.

Coruscant.

Her breath caught. If this meant what she thought it meant… She opened up her navigation database and ran some calculations. She had been headed to Home One – she was months overdue for a one-on-one debriefing. She needed to sound out the Council and the generals, get a feel for the new groups, what they could accomplish. Though mostly she just passed on the information, she still liked to stay on top of who was best suited for what. Sometimes you could mix up combat groups for a better outcome to specific missions. So many had been lost on that day, that day from the dispatch she couldn’t bring herself to read, that she didn’t dare suggest anyone specific anymore. But as time went on, she felt the need to know what resources were still in play, and that needed to be done in person. Too many were on the wanted lists, too many had to be anonymised in the dispatches to protect them. Not just the names, but the numbers, sometimes the targets. She knew a lot of the codes they used, but not all of them.

It was better that way.

The co-ordinates from the comm… Deil Kerran. It was a trading and supply outpost. She frowned. If she went there now in her little one-person A-wing, she was going to attract too much attention. She needed something that looked like it either traded or needed extensive resupplying. A freighter of some sort, but… She paused and had the computer calculate hyperspace jump times and relative local times. She frowned, considering. She didn’t have time to go back to her base, switch ships and still make the rendez-vous. Home One, on the other hand… If she could manage to keep the debriefing, hah, brief, the fleet often had a variety of crafts available. She could just about make it.

Her navicomputer beeped. The hyperspace calculations were in.

The Force sang.

She caught her breath. Since her master’s death, the Force had felt – wild. Less tame, less obedient. It danced and sang, giddily, headily bright. She hadn’t realised she had been trying to access the Force through a thick, oily sludge until it was gone, and now she had no idea what to do with it. When she reached out to it, it seemed barely under her control. And it did not mind its own business at all, poking here, prodding there, nudging her along like a leaf on the wind.

So.

Home One it was.

Who knows, maybe someone would actually authorise backup for once.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka carefully climbed down the ladder of her A-wing onto the deck of the hangar bay. The smell of lubricant and fuel cells assaulted her, bringing back memories of a sleek red fighter and clone voices sounding off. For a moment she felt isolated, as though she lived in a different world from that of the technicians swarming her craft. There had been many reasons to stay away from the various Rebel headquarters, some of them good. But for a moment she ached to know the technicians' names, joke with them about her stabiliser calibration. To have people come and greet her with smiles and touch. A wink, a quip. Or Master Kenobi’s small, proud smile. Anyone.

Speaking of greeting, the Deck Officer should have been here by now. She wasn't on the roster; someone should be coming to see what she wanted. She resisted the urge to check her chronometer, instead scanning the hangar bay for the elusive officer. There was the usual eclectic assortment of craft that characterised the Rebel Alliance, a smattering of A-wings and X-wings, a Daani interceptor, a battered Corellian freighter being repaired by a foul-mouthed Wookie and two Imp-

Wait, was that the Emperor’s shuttle?

Ahsoka blinked and decided she did, really, need to read all of the updates the Council kept sending her. When had they stolen the Emperor’s shuttle?

When the Deck Officer failed to materialise, she set off in search of him, her quick, impatient steps echoing in the hangar. She didn’t have time for this. Patience, a long-dead voice whispered in her ear. She ignored it. Since Kanan and Ezra had disappeared, with Him dead, the Force had become strange, almost alien to her. It burned so bright and fierce it seemed to sear through her veins and it was demanding, always pushing and prodding like a hyperactive youngling.

She peeked behind a stack of crates and found a dark-haired pilot reading a holozine, lounging on a hammock he had strung between two support struts, his flight suit hanging off his waist. He gave her a wave but didn’t look up from his reading. She went on, weaving between the crafts, her sense of urgency growing by the minute. Finally, she saw a pair of dark boots jutting out from under an X-Wing.

“Can you tell me where the Deck Officer is?”

A slim, dark-clad, sandy-haired man ducked out from under the craft and looked up at her. For a brief moment, the Force expanded, flooding her senses, then abruptly contracted again. Ahsoka caught her breath. Skyguy?

But no, this man was shorter, his face rounder, his nose wider, not as strong. It was his eyes, she thought, a piercing cerulean blue, the cleft on his chin, the smear of grease on his cheek and his dark tunic and boots that had reminded her of her former master. That, and the sudden sense of standing in front of a neutron star, a well of gravity and energy barely contained by the slim form.

He didn’t look like a technician, but then he didn’t look like a Navy officer or a pilot, either. If anything, his high-necked double-breasted tunic and high boots reminded her of Imperial uniforms. It fit with the air of quiet authority around him. A defector, perhaps, seeking comfort in a familiar cut of clothes?

The young Imperial looked her up and down, a slight frown marring his face. He called out over his shoulder: “Wedge, who’s Deck Officer this rotation?” His voice was familiar, too, somehow.

There was a yelp and a bump from behind the crates. “Not me,” a grumpy voice answered. “I’m off-duty, thank you very much.”

“Oh.” The man considered, then ducked his head, a little smile playing at the corner of his mouth. It was surprisingly sweet for someone who had been to the Academy – they usually propaganda'd that out of their officers fast. He must have gotten out early. “Might be me, actually. What do you need?”

Oh, the Force be with her. A baby officer just defected. “I need to speak to High Command.” She already regretted not taking the time for a transmission.

The man shook his head. “No-one here,” he explained. “Madine’s off setting up the new base, Mothma’s meeting with some ex-senators from Coruscant at an undisclosed location, Leia’s trying to get the support of the Arcali Confederation and I’m not sure what Ackbar’s doing, but he’s not here. Anything I can do to help?” He looked her up and down and tilted his head to the side, his voice soft. “You look tired. Why don’t you sit down? Here, you can have my toolbox.” He rolled the bright orange crate towards her. His accent… Most officers picked up the Core-worlds accent sooner or later, if only in self-defense. Many were recruited from the Rim worlds, but any suspicion of provinciality tended to curb a career real quick. His was Outer Rim through and through.

Ahsoka looked at the crate and almost sat down. She was tired, she had just come back from a mission and had actually been planning to sleep here, in a real bed, instead of in the cockpit of her vessel. But there would be time enough for that, later. “I need to talk to someone FULCRUM-authorised, now.”

The Imperial looked up. “Oh. Let me get you something hot.”

Ahsoka shook her head. “No. This is urgent. I don’t have time…”

He held up a black-gloved hand and Ahsoka’s heart gave a little fillip. Why one glove? He might have just been protecting his hand from grime, but the left one showed dirt in the pores. Ana - He had sometimes worn a single glove, when his mechanical hand got damaged. She shook him out of her head. She needed to stay focused.

“I need to look at the manifest,” the boy told her quietly. “It’ll take a few minutes, and I can make you a caf in that time, no problem. You,” he pointed to the toolbox, “wait here, and I’ll be right back.”

He strode to a wall terminal with measured steps, a grace in his lithe body that suggested physical strength and exercise. Ahsoka bit her lip and continued scanning the hangar bay. As interesting a little conundrum this maybe-defector might be, she needed someone with authority, here, now. She thought she saw someone moving between two A-wings and had taken the first step in their direction when a gloved hand landed on her arm. She felt a jolt, the Force vortexed around her and she swirled to face him. He didn’t react at all, instead handing her a datapad and the fastest cup of caf ever brewed. At her look, he smiled that small, contained smile. “The pilots always have a pot going.”

As Ahsoka sat down, the young Imperial continued, “I couldn’t find anyone marked as FULCRUM-authorised, but maybe if you look at the manifest, you can find someone to report to. I just got back, I’m not up-to-date on who's on board.”

Ahsoka started scrolling, impatience screaming through every nerve in her body. The first few names meant nothing to her. Rex was marked “on mission”, probably helping Madine with the new base. Organa was away – Leia. Interesting, that he only used her first name. Pity, she would have liked to finally meet Bail’s daughter face-to-face. She jabbed her finger through the list, name after useless name, and almost screamed. “I don’t have time for this!”

She stopped and took a few deep breaths, calming her mind, trying to think. She let the Force in, only a trickle, sending it along her frazzled nerves. It responded eagerly, racing down her limbs and turning them to putty. Stupid thing.

Was there another security clearance she could invoke to get equipped? She could feel the seconds ticking by, the window for leaving in time for the rendez-vous shrinking.

“What do you need?” The young Imperial’s voice cut through her thoughts. He was looking at her with a curious expression, his head tilted slightly to one side.

She tried to smile. “I’m sorry, but you’re not authorised…”

He waved his gloved hand. “I don’t need to know where you’re going, who or what you are meeting, extracting or stealing. Just tell me what you need to get it done.”

Ahsoka stared at him. A young defector of no obvious rank, new enough to his duties he hadn’t even realised he was in charge. But he might know who to ask.

“A cargo vessel,” she told him.

The young man nodded. “Imperial?”

Ahsoka shook her head. The outpost was nominally in Imperial space but dealt with a lot of private and independent firms. “No. Mid-weight cargo hauler of some kind.” Something she could pilot alone, if she had to.

“Well, there’s Dainty over on the Emergence, she’s a Derex Class Five. And Sector Wings is docked at the medical centre. But if you’re in a hurry,” he turned towards the Corellian ship on the other side of the bay and hollered, “Chewie, is the Falcon ready to go?”

There was a bang of tools and an impatient flurry of Shriiwook echoed through the landing bay.

The young man tilted his head, considering. “Yeah, but we can do that while we’re in hyperspace,” he decided. He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Han! Hey Han!”

A rugged dark-haired man in dark blue trousers and a black vest leaned out of the loading ramp entrance to the freighter. “That’s General Solo to you, kid.”

Ahsoka sighed and prepared to smooth ruffled feathers. Generals didn't tinker with just any ship lying around – this man was probably the owner. Some kind of independent trader – enough of them had joined the Alliance over the years. But the boy simply smiled, amused. “Sure. You feel like taking the Falcon for a spin?”

Solo came down the ramp, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Hey, why not. I’m not due anywhere for a few days. What’s going on?”

The young man tilted his head at Ahsoka. “Mission.” He turned to her. “Will the Millennium Falcon do?”

Ahsoka looked her over. She was about the right size, suitably battered. No-one would think she hadn't spent the last few years picking up whatever loose cargo people needed to get somewhere in a hurry. She nodded. “She’ll need some cargo, if we can get it.”

General Solo raised his eyebrows but merely said, “I like the way you talk, sweetheart. Hot or cold?”

“Cold,” Ahsoka said, smiling. A smuggler. It fit the man's swagger. “Doesn’t have to be anything fancy, just something to show officials if we’re inspected.”

“Gotcha. I know a guy in commissary.” He turned to the boy at Ahsoka’s side. “This your gig?”

The Imperial shook his head. “FULCRUM. I’m just facilitating.”

“Good. Then you can facilitate your butt onto my ship and help Chewie get her prepped.”

The boy smiled and gave a smart, two-fingered salute. “Aye-aye, General.”

With that Solo turned on his heels and stalked off. After a few steps, he paused. “What the hell is FULCRUM?”

“Intelligence. High-level security rating.” The boy – young man – how old was he, anyway? – held a hand in front of his mouth to hide his amused smile. If he knew what FULCRUM was, he might not be so green after all.

“Oh, now that’s just great. Serves me right for not keeping my mouth shut.” Solo stalked off, muttering under his breath.

The Imperial turned back to Ahsoka, hints of his smile in his voice. “Don’t mind him, he doesn’t like spy stuff. What else do you need? Backup?”

“He can’t come.” She was stretching things as it was, requisitioning assets without proper authorisation. The name Solo was familiar, probably from some information packet or other, but he wasn't FULCRUM-authorised and that was a problem.

The Imperial looked at her with his disconcerting blue eyes. The smile was back. “Do you have the time to argue with a Wookie?” He pointed to the one in question, who let off a few curses as he buttoned down the panel he had been working on. “Don’t worry. They’re both discreet. Now, do you need backup?”

Ahsoka felt trapped. If this was the General’s private ship… She didn’t exactly have the weight of the Council behind her to commandeer it. But it irked her to have to put this mission in somebody else's hands. She gave him a sardonic smile. “Oh, half-a-dozen fighters would be nice.” It was an old joke. Fighters were at a premium.

But he merely nodded. “Wedge!” More muffled curses from behind the crates. “How many Rogues can you rustle up?”

The pilot – Wedge – came out from behind the crates, shaking out the top of his flight suit. “Two and Five are in the lounge. Six, Eight and Nine are on escort duty, Three’s in sickbay with the snuffles and Four, Seven and Ten are due back from patrol in about twenty minutes. What’s going on, Boss?”

The young man nodded and turned back to her. “Can you wait that long? It’ll take about half an hour for Han to wrangle the cargo, but the pilots on patrol will need to report in and use the ‘fresher. Give it maybe forty-five, fifty minutes? An hour at most.”

Ahsoka tried not to think about simply absconding with half a fighter squadron. None of the others seemed to think there was anything wrong with scrambling for a mission they knew nothing about, for someone whose authority she couldn't judge. She went through a few calming routines to dim her sense of urgency, ignoring the tingle the Force sent through her limbs. If they left in an hour, they should still get to the outpost with three hours to spare. She wouldn’t have been gone any faster if she had had to report, get authorisation, argue for the need for fighter backup… Who was this guy, anyway, that he could simply ask and get half a fighter squadron to scramble? “Three is fine. Six is better. One hour should be okay.”

The man nodded. “All right. Wedge, tell Two and Five their vacation’s cancelled. And better warn the others they won't have time for a bubble bath when they get back.”

Wedge – Wedge Antilles? The one Sabine Wren had broken out of the Academy? – nodded. “This your mission?” That question again.

The Imperial shook his head. “Hers.”

“Who's she?” Wedge eyed her curiously, his tone devoid of accusation.

The Imperial simply smiled. “Need-to-know. It's all right, Wedge.”

Wedge looked at the Imperial for a second or two, then chuckled. “Never boring with you, Boss.” He went off, calling to technicians. An anthill of activity arose around them. Just like that. If he already commanded that sort of trust, he was hardly new to the Alliance.

She was about to ask his name when he turned back to her. “Why don’t you go get your stuff and stash it on the Falcon? I’ll go log the mission.”

“What about the General? He told you to -”

The Imperial laughed. It was a nice laugh, a little shy. “Let me worry about Han. There's plenty of time to prep the Falcon.” He turned and started toward the consoles, then stopped and turned around, walking backwards. “I’m Luke.”

Ahsoka nodded in acknowledgement. “Ahsoka. And thank you.”

The two-fingered salute again. “Anytime. I have a good feeling about you.”

***

The Falcon's accommodations were spartan, but sufficient. The ship itself looked like a stiff breeze would shake her apart – the deck plates rattled under her boots, half the panels in the control rooms were missing and various access pits were open, tools strewn around their rims. It smelled of coolant and overheated wiring and somebody’s lunch. Ahsoka grinned. She liked it already.

She found an empty bunk and stashed her small collection of outfits in the drawer under the cot, taking a moment to close her eyes, still reeling from what had happened. She had gotten all she needed for this mission in record time, but still her internal chronometre was tick-tocking away, making her acutely aware of every second passing.

Luke. She couldn't remember a Luke anything in any of the debriefings, but the Alliance frequently changed the names they sent out in transmissions to protect their members. He might also have been in one of the packets she hadn’t looked at yet. Who was he?

Luke was close with Rogue Squadron, and unless he was in the habit of working on random X-Wings he was probably a pilot. But all the call numbers had been accounted for, unless he was Rogue Leader. But then he should have been on standby with Wedge, not Deck Officer. Was he an operative like her? She knew there were other call signs besides FULCRUM. She searched for his name in her files and came up blank. Either he was insignificant enough not to be mentioned by name or too important to be mentioned by name.

She heard footsteps in the corridor and a string of Wookie complaints were answered in a soft voice. Panels rattled shut, preparations in the cockpit began. She decided there was no reason she couldn't look up Luke and General Solo in Home One's manifest while the preparations were under way. As she went down the ramp she found Solo, the Imperial and the Wookie working on unloading a series of crates from a transport sled.

“What did you find?” she asked Solo.

He jabbed a thumb at the crates “Rations. Not your Imperial standard, the exotic kind, with actual flavour packets. Figure there's always a market for the good stuff.” He lounged against the sled. “Of course, if I knew where we were going, I could rustle up something better.”

Ahsoka shook her head. “No, that's perfect.”

Luke leaned down to inspect a smaller crate and gave Han a long-suffering look. “Han, is this the official dinnerware?”

Han gave him a lopsided grin. “Yeah. Look, all the captains do it. Official cargo, all squared up, and then one or two luxury items. Don't take up much space, a few extra credits in your account... No-one'll bat an eye. Not if it's any sort of normal spaceport.”

Luke rolled his eyes in affectionate exasperation. “Han, you can't just... Oh, wait. Is this the Tiberium set?”

“I certainly hope so. It's what it said on the box, anyway. I can't tell any of them apart.”

“Leia's been complaining about it for ages!”

Han’s grin widened. “And now that it has mysteriously gone missing, she can use the Alderaanian plates that spice magnate gave her without treading on Mothma's toes.”

Luke laughed. “Okay. I didn't see this.” He looked up at Ahsoka through his lashes, blue eyes dancing. “And neither did you.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” she assured them over the noise of three X-wings landing – the rest of her squadron, probably. She smiled. It was nice to see that the Alliance was still made up of rogues looking out for each other.

She went over to the computers lining the back wall of the bay and found the pilots' cafmaker bubbling happily atop the console for the force field controls, surrounded by a brood of mugs of all shapes and sizes. She found one with a picture of an odd-shaped droid, its extensions out, and the word “Caffeinate!” and poured herself another cup of the horrid, warming stuff.

She found Solo quickly enough. He was listed as a ground-forces General, which was unusual for someone with his own ship, and “independent trader”. He was assigned to Rogue and Raptor groups in the Second Outer Rim Fleet and flagged for time-sensitive missions. He had several commendations. She downloaded his file onto a data wand and called up “Luke”.

A screen came up asking for an authorisation code.

She blinked. She didn't know whether or not Luke was an unusual name among humans, but normally, even if there was only one person of that name in the fleet, the system popped up a list of alternatives in case you got the spelling wrong. Apparently, whoever they were protecting was important enough that they had the authorisation firewall before even the list of choices. Anyone looking for a Lyka or Kule would be plenty frustrated. She wondered who he was and what he had done.

She was about to try her own authorisation codes when a harried-looking young officer came sprinting across the hangar bay, shouting: “Commander! Commander!”

Luke and Wedge, deep in consultation about rations and fuel, both looked up. The officer – a Lieutenant with close-cut blond hair and a crooked nose – skidded to a stop beside Luke. “Commander,” he panted, “you can't just take ships and leave without logging a destination! And there's no official authorisation for this mission. Please, sir, it's my neck if the mission log's not right.”

Ahsoka sauntered over as Luke took the datapad the Lieutenant handed him. “I'm not seeing it. I filled out all the fields.”

“You put FULCRUM, sir,” the Lieutenant told him helpfully. “You're not authorised to requisition personnel or material for FULCRUM.”

“Oh.” Luke looked up at Ahsoka.

She shook her head. “I have discretionary powers in the field, but when it comes to matériel – it's why I came here.” Oh the Force help her. They needed to leave soon and here was a little data-pusher putting a spanner in the works. It looked like Luke didn't have the authority he had thought he had. Commander? The rank was fluid – in field operations they ranked below Captain or a General, but if he was a squadron commander the rank was about equivalent.

Han let go of the container he was loading. “Materials? I can authorise that.” He jabbed a thumb at his chest.

The Lieutenant gulped. “For the Falcon, sir. But Rogue Squadron is under Admiral Ackbar. So's the Commander, officially.”

“Well then get Ackbar on the line!”

“Can't sir, he's in the Torres Cluster. Radiation. His First Lieutenant is in sickbay. And, er...” He pointed to the crates. “That's beyond the accepted rations for a mission of this size.”

Han leaned into the Lieutenant's face. “I filed them under 'expenses'.”

The Lieutenant was looking decidedly green around the gills, but held his ground. “That only covers credits, sir.”

Ahsoka cut in. “Then we'll have to do without the backup and hope they don't want to inspect the cargo. General, please, time is of the essence.”

Hand thrust a finger near enough to poke the Lieutenant's eye out. “Don't get cocky with me, kid. File it under 'bribes'. Now scram, we have places to be.” From inside the Falcon, Chewie called to them to hurry up.

“But sir, the amount...”

“Lieutenant.” Luke's voice was patience itself. He handed the datapad to the young officer. “Does this meet your standards?”

The officer peered down at the pad and Ahsoka felt a glimmer of hope. What trick did Luke have up his sleeve now?

“STARKILLER? I've never heard of that mission code, sir.”

“Log it in.” Luke clasped his hands behind his back and waited.

“It wants an authorisation code.”

Luke took back the datapad and tapped something in. The Lieutenant glanced over it and gulped. “Sir, yes sir! Um... The log shows mostly solo missions?”

“Parametres change.”

“Right. Only, er, the mission objective, it's...”

“Perfectly acceptable. Feel free to discuss it with Lieutenant Kraal when he gets out of sickbay. Or any of the Council.”

“Right, sir. Sorry, sir. Only, why not log it STARKILLER directly? Sorry, sir, don't mean to... I'm fairly new and I want to understand.”

Luke smiled. “No problem, Lieutenant. As I am acting on FULCRUM information, it seemed more appropriate. Now, Lieutenant, if you don't mind, we have a schedule to keep.”

The Lieutenant saluted. “Aye-aye, sir. Sorry, sir, I'll have your departure codes in a jiffy!” He ran off, radiating helpfulness and good-will.

Han grabbed the crate. “Give me a hand, kid, won't you? What did you do, give him a whammy?”

“Han!”

“Hey, what do I know. So what's STARKILLER?”

“Special mission code. You've been on a few.”

“I have? How come I don't know about it, then?” They heaved the crate up the ramp and Ahsoka closed it behind them. “And why am I the only one without special authorisation codes?”

“Because you never read the mission file. And what do you think RAPTOR is?”

As Ahsoka started off towards the cockpit, she heard Han mumble, “It's not like there's anything in them that isn't in the briefing.”

Ahsoka slipped in behind Chewie and told him, “Tell the Rogues to meet us at checkpoint Perkins.”

Chewie started the take-off sequence and Han and Luke joined them. Luke slipped into the chair behind Han.

“So what's our destination, Lady?” Han asked.

“You'll get it at the checkpoint.”

“Now listen here...”

Ahsoka shook her head. “No. I'm sure you're all trustworthy, but I don't know you and I have safety protocols to follow.”

At Checkpoint Perkins, she listened to Rogue Squadron check in, wondering just how she was going to convince the General to let her take over the controls. She really shouldn't have involved anyone else. She flew most of her missions alone, sometimes with Rex or one of the other boys when they could be spared.

Luke cut into her thoughts as he leaned forward and toggled the comm. “All right, Rogue Squadron, stand-by for hyperspace co-ordinates.”

“Copy, Rogue Leader.” Ah. One mystery solved, though why Luke wasn't out with his squadron...

Han must have been thinking along similar lines. “Why aren't you out with them, kid?”

“Hadn't finished on my X-wing. Besides, I've spent enough time in that cockpit in the last few months. I've missed this.” The look on Han's face suggested he had, as well, and was definitely never going to say so. Chewie had no such compunctions. “Anyway, somebody has to keep you out of trouble. Come on.”

“Come on where?”

Luke rolled his eyes. “She has to punch in the co-ordinates.”

Han put his hands out in front of him. “Oh, no. No way. Not on my ship,” he jabbed a thumb to his chest. “Nobody flies her -”

“Han, just let her put in the co-ordinates.” He turned to Ahsoka and shrugged. “I suggest you let him fly her. Chances are, the Falcon's navicomputer will recognise them, anyway; and he's not gonna let you land her.”

Ahsoka sighed and closed her eyes. What was it about jockeys and their ships? “All right. But I'm locking the co-ordinates until we get out of hyperspace.”

Luke nodded. “Fair enough. Come on, Han, you're only gonna get worked up. Go get the tools, Chewie and I can start on the portside converter coils.”

Ahsoka transmitted co-ordinates to Rogue Squadron – a dwarf planet not far from the one the outpost was on, with a sufficiently rugged terrain. She made sure their entrance vector was different from the Falcon’s – and hopefully out of range of Deil Kerran’s scans – and told them to wait 30 standard minutes before jumping. That would hopefully disassociate them enough from the Falcon if Deil Kerran had somehow magically picked up military-grade scans.

Han insisted on Chewie and him making the actual jump to lightspeed, after which he spent some time glaring at Ahsoka until she decided she might as well go get some rest. “It's a twelve-hour jump,” she told him.

Han blew out a breath. “That far?” He stared at her a moment then shook his head. “Look --”

Just then Luke squeezed past her, holding a box that rattled. He squatted down between the pilot and copilot's seats, flopped onto his back and started rummaging around in the box. After a minute, he held the box out to Han. “Can you have a look? I can't remember which ones are busted, you never throw them out.” He opened a panel in the console.

Han took the box. “Like that, hunh?” He opened it.

Ahsoka, curious, peeked over Han's shoulder. “Ship's transponders?”

“Yeah.” Hand poked at them with a finger. “Falcon's got a reputation. How about Transit Dawn?”

Luke looked out from under the console. “Oh! That one's my bad. Take it out, will you? Lando and I blew that one wide open on Keltooine. I think she's wanted by the Hutts, Crimson Dawn, Karrde and whatever's left of Black Sun.”

“Whaddaya mean 'whatever's left'? What happened to Black Sun?”

“Leia and I kinda blew it up.”

“Can't a guy spend a few months in carbonite without you blowing up a criminal organisation?”

“Lando helped. So did Chewie. I can't remember, does Starlit Sister have a history?”

“Oh, Lando helped. Well, I guess that's all right then.” Han's voice dripped sarcasm. “Nah, the Sister's no good, she specialises in medical supplies. Hey, what's Old Ben?”

“Oh, that's mine. I didn't know where else to put it. No good, no shipping history.”

“Yours? Here, Ice Comet. Small-time trader, all sorts of goods. Mostly basics.”

“Sounds good.” Luke accepted the transponder from Han and started installing it. “Yeah, I'm saving up for something a bit bigger than my X-wing. I'm spending so much time on missions, it'd be kinda nice to have a 'fresher and maybe a bunk.”

“What, the Falcon not good enough for ya?” Hand drawled. His tone implied it was a joke, but Ahsoka could feel the tension coming off of him. Luke getting his own ship was a blow for him.

And it all made sense. It didn't quite fit in with Luke as Rogue Leader, but he and Han and Chewie were all crew. A close-knit group who had been through a lot together, the reason Solo was willing to take on a mission he knew nothing about purely on Luke's say-so, even though he outranked the Commander. For a brief moment, she thought of Anakin and Obi-Wan, of Rex and the clones, of the Ghost crew, and her heart ached.

Luke stopped his work and came out from under the console. “Han...” He hadn't been fooled by Solo's tone, either.

“No, kid. I get it.” He got up, avoiding eye contact with Luke. “I'm gonna go see what you and Chewie have done to my ship.”

Ahsoka sat down and laid a hand on Luke's arm. “I'm sorry,” she told him and gasped. All around her, the universe came alive. She could sense exactly where Han and Chewie were on the ship, the power flowing through the ship’s conduits, the million tiny particles of life that joined everything together. She jerked her arm back reflexively, closing her connection to the Force. It was too much, too painful.

To cover up her confusion, she asked Luke, “How long have you two been in the Alliance?”

Luke turned back to installing the transponder. “Since the first Death Star. We joined up together.”

“Imperial Academy?”

“Don't I wish! No, I was straight off the farm. Han was at the Academy for a while, for a while. You wouldn't guess, he's hopeless at Imperial protocols. You'd think he'd at least remember what they're supposed to sound like...”

Ahsoka smiled. This was familiar ground. “Infiltration missions?”

“Ah!” He buttoned up the panel and started sorting the extraneous transponders back into their box. “Just... anything.”

Ahsoka smiled. “I had a friend like that. Not a duplicitous bone in his body, anything where he had to pretend to be someone else was sure to go south fast.” Her face fell and she felt the familiar wave of fondness and bitterness and anger, all that anger, rise up.

Luke sat down in the copilot's seat and looked at her from under his lashes. “What did he do to you?” he asked softly.

Oh, the Force take young, observant Rebels and their compassion. “Everything.” She swallowed and turned away. Everything a big brother could possibly do to his sister – fear, grief, betrayal, all of it.

They stayed in silence for a moment, then Luke asked in a casual tone, “What about you? When did you join up?”

Ahsoka gratefully accepted the opportunity to talk of something else. “Oh, I've been here since practically the beginning. Bail found out where I was and nagged me until I accepted my first mission.”

“Bail? Bail Organa? Then you know Leia!”

“I've talked to her a few times, yes.”

From inside the Falcon, an argument rose up. Chewie was complaining about Han's prehistoric attitude to power flows – Ahsoka's Wookie was very rusty, but she thought she got the gist – while Han banged about yelling about it being his ship and that Chewie and Luke should put everything back to the way it was, right now.

Luke chuckled and told Ahsoka, “I'd better see what that's about. You need anything in your bunk? There are some extra blankets in my room, otherwise just ask.”

Chapter Text

There had been a whole pile of blankets, soft as clouds and snuggly warm, in what Ahsoka supposed was Luke's room. One of the bunks had a Wookie nest, the other had a selection of women's clothing ranging from dresses to fatigues. Neither of the two men had much in the way of possessions, but one room had housed a small collection of knick-knacks, the sort of thing you might pick up on this world or that – a palm-sized rock, a cracked pottery globe, oddly-shaped bottles. The other seemed to consist solely of blankets and data wands, with a few readers and a miniature holoprojector thrown in for variety. She chose an angora-weeble-hair blanket in swirls of black and white and went over to the room she had taken as her own.

[something something warmth cub!] The growl behind her made Ahsoka jump.

“Sorry, Chewie. My Shriiwook's very rusty.”

He pointed to the blanket in Ahsoka's arms and growled again.

“Luke said I could get one from his room.”

Chewie shook his head and motioned for her to follow him, muttering the whole time. He led her to a storage compartment and grabbed the blanket from her arms. He opened the compartment and Ahsoka saw that it, too, was full of blankets.

“All, right, I'm sorry. I didn't know.” The blanket he gave her was decidedly rougher, a simple grey spacer's blanket such as was sold in spaceports the galaxy over. So much for angora-weeble wool.

“Thank you.” If her answer had undertones of sarcasm, courtesy of her Master – no, not that one, you haven't heard sarcasm until you have lived through a conversation between Master Obi-Wan and Hondo Ohnaka – well, most non-consonantal species couldn't pick up on it anyway.

Chewie huffed in amusement. All right, he'd probably been around humans for awhile. And Solo did seem a master of the art. Chewie turned away, then hesitated.

Okay, her Shriiwook was really rusty. “I'm sorry?”

Chewie repeated himself, this time with gestures.

“My montrals?”

He nodded.

“Do they get bigger?”

Another affirmative growl.

“Well, yes. They grow our whole lives, though sometimes with stress...” She shrugged. She didn't miss having to account for the greater swing of her lekku, but she had caught herself comparing the image in the mirror with Master Ti, before... Time-travel, apparently, put a great strain on Togruta organisms.

Chewie asked something ask.

“I...” There was something tingling at the back of her mind. She mentally slapped the Force and told it to shut up. “Tano. Ahsoka Tano.”

There was an ear-splitting yowl and she found herself engulfed in fur. Chewie used some sort of floral conditioner that reminded her vaguely of Bail Organa's carpets.

“Do I know you?”

Chewie either didn't hear over his own enthusiasm or was ignoring her. Once he put her down, he thrust the angora-weeble blanket back into her arms and gestured towards Luke's bunk.

“Tell him what?” she answered, confused. Of course she hadn't told Luke everything. She was an information specialist. It was dangerous.

She didn't know the meaning of the exact sounds he was making, but she could guess.

“I'm not. Not anymore.” She took a step back. “How did you know?”

Recognise-? She'd met a whole lot of Wookies in her life, but she couldn't – wait. The build, the fur. Chewie. The name itched at the back of her mind, not quite right. Out of place in her memory, too. It was so long ago. Another age, another life. A Wookie out of place, too. A forest? Not so much out of place, for a Wookie. A beach. Better. Padawans.

“Chew – bacca?”

He roared in recognition.

Chewbacca. The Wookie from Wasskah. A Trandoshan hunting moon. What a horrible, horrible, place, a place of lost hope and lost children. They never would have made it out without him.

She smiled. “Chewbacca!”

She found herself swept up once more into a huge, furry hug and asked a million impertinent questions.

“Hush, Chewie. I'm not that person any more. But I'm glad you made it – I heard about Kashyyk.”

Chewie didn't respond, instead calling Solo a few choice names, fondness in his voice. They'd been together a while, now. Luke was a newer addition, but he'd done Solo some good. Good thing he'd recognised the old man, or they might have passed on that gig. Things were a lot more exciting with Luke around.

“Well. I guess I feel safer if you're the mechanic here.” She gestured to several open instrument panels along the walls. “I'm going to try and get some sleep.” She turned at the door, clutching her very soft blanket to her chest. “And thank you, again. For everything you did.”

He rubbed her montrals as he passed, praising  her own hunting skills as he stuffed the spacer's blanket back into the locker.

She slept fitfully for about two hours. Her dreams were insistent, but disjointed, mostly of Anakin. Anakin and Padmé, deep in conversation. Anakin rubbing her montrals and calling her “Snips.” Anakin on Mortis, pushing aside the Force siblings, and a deep, gong-like voice intoning: “The Father, the Son and the Daughter”.

And the Force, yanking at her mind and twisting the dreams, showing her a palace under a clear blue sky and a house sunk in a sea of sand. A jungle with a tiny mudwall house peeking up like a mushroom from the swampy ground, warm light spilling out of a window. And a cavernous room of shadows and portents, streaks of red and green light cutting through the darkness and slowly dancing into the light…

Finally, she gave up. The ship was still and silent. Han was slumped in the cockpit, dozing, at hand in case any of the warning indicators started beeping. She supposed Luke and Chewie were sleeping. She went over to the common area and tried to remember when she had last eaten. A cup of caf and some rations might shut the Force up long enough for her to get some real sleep. Since Endor, it had become positively chatty.

As she rummaged through the galley niche, she got her next shock. What was it about this mission that was determined to re-open old wounds? There were the usual ration packs, standard fare, and few Core-world cuisine deluxe packets. And a small, neat stack of... But maybe that company made other rations, too. She took one of the blue-coloured packets and stared. Rimmy Tasty's Quickspice Quental.

“Those are Luke's,” Hand said from behind her.

“I didn't know. I thought it came from the cargo.” She put it back. They sure were protective of Luke. She wondered what had happened to him.

“Nah, he won't mind,” Han sauntered over and stretched out in the table nook, “but you'll burn your mouth with those.”

Ahsoka smiled and took it up again, activating the heating tab. Memories good or bad, she had missed the taste. “That’s all right. A friend of mine loved these, he said it was the closest thing to Tatooine food he ever found produced commercially.” For all He complained about it, He had often sought out things that reminded him of home.

Han cocked his head. “You have a friend from Tatooine?”

Ahsoka took her quickspice quental to the table. “You know it?”

“Sure. Did some work for the Hutts in my day. It's where I met Luke.”

“Luke’s from Tatooine.” That explained some of the familiarity – his accent, at least.

“Yeah.” Han idly fingered a control panel for the environmental systems. “Weird kid. His fault I’m still here and not enjoying the fruits of my labour somewhere nice and tropical.”

“Hmmm.” The taste exploded on Ahsoka’s tongue and she belatedly remembered that she wasn’t used to eating spicy food anymore. She tried for nonchalance as she strode to the water dispenser. “That kind of friend.”

The kind of friend who caught you in his orbit and somehow never let go. The kind you ended up following into the most ridiculous, dangerous situations without ever quite knowing how. Having experienced Luke first-hand, she thought she could understand.

“Yeah.” Han stared out into the distance. “That kind of friend.”

“Oh, hey, do I smell Quental?” Luke strode in, drying his hair on a towel. He must have been exercising, the slight smell of sweat still clung to him. Without his uniform, he seemed more muscular, less slim. She had been right about something at least – he took physical exercise seriously.

“Help yourself,” Ahsoka made space at the dispenser.

“Aw, Han! You stocked up again.”

Han looked away, engrossed once more in picking at the edges of the environmental panel. “Nah. This is left over from last time.”

“Oh, Han.” Luke sat down next to Ahsoka, his drying hair a halo around his face. “Last time I actually had a meal on the Falcon with you was before Hoth. And I finished the last packet on the mission to Marfal, and that was with Lando.” Han’s face tightened again at the mention of Lando. Something clicked – Lando was probably Lando Calrissian, a high-flying gambler and entrepreneur who had started working with the Alliance some time before the second Death Star, after the Empire took over his operation on Bespin. Funny, he seemed more the sort to cut his losses and try again somewhere else than be out for revenge. Unless Luke had happened. She opened herself a little to the Force and felt the roils of jealousy around Han. Ah. That kind of friend.

“What? No way, there was that mission to – oh, yeah, we didn’t get time to eat.” Han got up and grabbed a glass. “I guess commissary must have gotten some by mistake and asked me if I wanted it. Ain’t nobody else that eats that stuff.”

Luke looked up at his friend fondly. “Sure, Han. Thanks anyway.” He ate a few spoonfuls then brightened. Ahsoka winced as the Force brightened with him. “No, we ate on that mission to get those power coils, remember? You made nerf gresh.” He turned to Ahsoka, grinning. “Han doesn’t cook, really, except for nerf gresh. It’s really good, maybe if we have time we can scrounge up the ingredients at Deil Kerran.”

Ahsoka dropped her spoon. “I’m sorry?”

Han smirked. “The Falcon’s got the best navigation database in the galaxy, sweetheart. She knows what those co-ordinates mean.”

Luke laughed. “Don’t worry. Do you need any backup on the ground? Han and I are pretty good with blasters.”

Ahsoka shook her head, not sure if she should be happy or incensed. “And Chewie?”

“Chewie’s too trigger-happy,” Han insisted, to his co-pilot’s indignation. There followed a conversation of which Ahsoka only caught half – but which definitely involved something with an Imperial detention centre and – garbage?

Luke rolled his eyes at them and smiled at Ahsoka. “On second thought, Han doesn’t do subtle. But we can do basic trader stuff out on base so we're not too far away. We’ll have our commlinks with us – we usually use three static bursts and one short one.”

“Whaddaya mean I don’t do subtle?” Han spread his arms out in mock-outrage and jabbing his thumb at Chewie. “I’m not the one who stole a walker and…”

Ahsoka felt a small tightness in her, one she had forgotten was there, melt away. It felt good to be part of a team again.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka put her datapad aside. She had been searching through the dispatches, trying to find something on this crew. Han Solo she had found as the general leading the ground troops during the attack on the Second Death star, and she hadn’t even needed to open That File for it. It was mentioned in another report about the bombing of a munitions depot. She had found some references to the RAPTOR team, and they were pretty impressive. That stint with the Star Destroyer to break a blockade…

In all of that, no mention of Luke anything. Searches for Rogue Leader only mentioned the actions of Rogue Squadron as a whole. If Ahsoka read it correctly, RAPTOR team was nominally part of Rogue Squadron anyway. STARKILLER brought up three seemingly unrelated missions marked “military intelligence” concerning troop movements, information retrieval and a supply base, and several mentions of delays due to STARKILLER operations taking precedence. It seemed to be some sort of specialised intelligence code, but Ahsoka couldn’t find a pattern.

This all suggested that Luke was either fairly new, which he himself had said he wasn't, or had only participated in group missions, which would go against both what the Lieutenant had said on Home One and what Luke had said about the time he was spending in his X-Wing. Or… Or it meant that he was among the Empire’s most wanted list, so high up that he only ever appeared under a pseudonym, even in the tight-coded reports or the ones that were delivered by hand, like the one that had mentioned Solo.

Suddenly, her sense of the Force went wonky. The universe expanded, retracted, twisted. Around her, the whole world decelerated. A second later she heard alarms go off from the cockpit and Chewie cursing.

Had they just come out of hyperspace?

And what the Sith hells had happened in the Force?

She leapt up and ran out of her quarters, reeling, trying to find her footing while the world around her twisted and rolled. From behind Luke’s door, there was a prolonged rattling sound, like dozens of small objects falling to the floor, then a thump and a resounding “Ow!”

The Force yawed briefly and then settled back to normal. “What the hell was that?” she asked Han as he stumbled out of his quarters, still rubbing the sleep out of his face.

“How should I know? Chewie, what the hell was that?”

Chewie sounded as bewildered as anybody else.

“There was nothing wrong with the hyperdrive when we left.”

Chewie opined that maybe there was something wrong with it now.

“Well then why don’t you go check?” Han growled. He threw himself into the pilot’s seat and started checking readouts. Ahsoka leaned over his shoulder, mouth parched. She didn’t need this. If they needed repairs…

“Well, we’re out of hyperspace all right.” Hand toggled a few switches. The engines whined. “Everything seems to be okay with the hyperdrive.” From behind, Chewie also seemed baffled. “Scans don’t show any other craft in the vicinity – it wasn’t an Interdictor.”

Ahsoka bit her lip. She did not need this right now. They had been on schedule, everything had been fine. She had to make it to the rendez-vous on time.

Coruscant.

A chance at Coruscant.

The Alliance knew that there were a lot sympathisers on Coruscant – especially since the Emperor died. True sympathisers who had not known how they, in their everyday, normal lives, could possibly help, not known how to contact the Alliance, not known how they could resist without losing everything and everyone. People who had had their doubts but hadn’t looked further than the stability the Empire offered. And of course, caul-rats abandoning the sinking ship.

But they didn’t have the firepower. Not if they wanted to hold the systems they already controlled. The Imperial Centre fleet was still in orbit; part of the Rim fleet had joined it after the Death Star debacle.

What her contact was offering was a back door.

Mon Mothma, Organa and Rieekan were all gathering allies – inside the remnants of the Empire but also on Coruscant itself. A coup. But…

They needed some way to bring troops through the blockade, preferably without alerting the fleet. And this man just might be able to provide it.

This could not go wrong.

Luke wove into the cockpit, stumbling into one of the seats. His eyes were unfocused, his hands shaking.

Ahsoka put a hand on his arms and was once again thrown into the Force – only this time, it was…

Odd.

The Force felt – not like a net of teeming life, not that immense sense of belonging – but like the huge web of some cosmic creature, filaments stretching out into infinity, drawing together and connecting.

And suddenly it snapped together. The Force was once more that deep pool of energy and life. The console stopped beeping.

Luke sagged against her, trembling.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

It was the wrong thing to do. Han immediately turned from his instruments, frowning. “Kid? Is this you?”

Luke didn’t answer, still shaking.

“Kid?”

He pushed himself away from Ahsoka, taking a few deep breaths. His eyes slowly came back into focus and when he looked up to Han they were limpid and inscrutable once more.

“What happened?”

“We came out of hyperspace. What’s wrong, kid?”

Luke shook his head. “It’s fine. I was meditating, that’s all. This threw me off.”

Han smirked. “Yeah, I heard the crash.” He gestured back to the instruments. “So, was this you?”

Ahsoka narrowed her eyes at him. What?!?

Luke shrugged. “Can’t see how.”

Ahsoka cut in. “So, where are we?” How much time were they losing with this?

“What? Uh…” Han peered at a readout. “Near the Dragos Cluster.”

Dragos Cluster? Wasn’t that… Ahsoka punched a few buttons to expand the view. “Oh, karabast.”

Han grimaced. “Yeah.”

“How much time is this going to cost us?”

“Hold your banthas, Lady. What’s with the time crunch?”

Ahsoka sighed. How much could she tell them? She was used to being on her own. How much could she tell them without compromising her sources? She knew so little about them. Solo and RAPTOR seem to have been assigned a number of important missions. Chances were, it would be all right.

But what about Luke?

Was he a part of RAPTOR? Probably. But he was also an enigma unto himself. And the effect he had on the Force… He was Force-sensitive, definitely, but what not in any way Ahsoka had ever experienced before.

Luke put a hand on Han’s arm, then immediately removed it. It was still trembling. “Han, leave it. She’s trustworthy.”

“Look kid, this is my ship and it just dropped out of hyperspace somewhere off-course to a dingy little trading town with barely an Imperial presence and no smuggling activity to speak of. So maybe I’d like to know what the rush is all about.”

Ahsoka sighed. She dipped carefully back into the Force – a question. She didn’t try to feel any of them, or untangle their motivations. Just the situation. Trust – all right?

The answer came back with a warmth that took her breath away. She thought she caught a whisper of affection, a caress.

The Force loved this odd crew.

Ahsoka swallowed. “I need to meet a contact. His ship is re-supplying at Deil Kerran, and then it’s continuing on through Imperial space, near the Core. I only have a window of a few hours to meet with him.”

“What’s he got?”

Ahsoka leaned in, staring right into Han’s icy-blue eyes. “Coruscant.”

Behind her, Luke laughed. “Well, Leia’ll never let you live it down if we screw up a way to get us into Coruscant.”

Han groaned. “Better believe it. All right. New calculations.”

From the back, Chewie reported on the state of the engines. It didn’t sound good.

“Well, now that’s just great.”

“What is it?” Ahsoka asked. “I didn’t catch all of that.” So it had been an engine malfunction. Oh, she shouldn’t have assumed the Falcon’s beat-up appearance was deliberate. She should have checked her systems herself, insisted on another ship…

“Chewie says the N-space coils are a little out of synch. It’s not a huge fix, but we do need to land – the panel’s outside.” Han brought up the navigation charts again. “There should be a rogue planet around here somewhere, let’s see how far it is.”

“Rogue planet?” Luke still looked a little green around the gills.

“It’s got a hangar, a few amenities. The Scarlet Confederacy set it up during the Clone Wars, smugglers have been using it for drop-offs and repairs ever since. Should be safe.”

Luke draped an arm over the back of Han’s chair. “Does ‘safe’ involve murderous ex-wives, landing in the digestive track of space worms or a full Imperial occupation, complete with Darth Vader? Because your ‘safe’ havens have a tendency to not be.”

Ahsoka wondered at what point exactly in an Alliance career you managed to mention Darth Vader in a casual aside, because she definitely wasn’t there yet. Might never be there.

Han spread out his arms, eyes mock-innocent. “Hey, those weren’t my fault! And how do you know about the space worm?”

“Leia and I do talk, you know.”

Han looked down at his instruments. “Well, will you look at that, it’s not far at all! Come on, we’ll be in and out in no time.”

Luke sighed. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Shut up.”

But Ahsoka also felt something – a slight tremor in the Force, a sniff of danger and portent. She bit her lip. They didn’t have much choice – they couldn’t fly without repairs. They would just have to be vigilant.

The rogue planet was barely visible as they approached. No sun to illuminate the curve of its horizon, no moons to reflect the bluish dust of its surface – only a dark cut-out against the twinkling rainbow lights of the Dragos Cluster. As they circled it, Ahsoka saw a rectangle of light carved directly into the bluish-green rock, casting the first shadows on a landscape oddly smooth, only the occasional irregular peak but completely devoid of impact craters. She felt the first misgivings stir in her breast. She didn’t know if smuggler bases regularly left the lights on, though she supposed that since it didn’t have a landing beacon, it made sense to have a visual landing aid.

Han and Chewie carefully manoeuvred the Falcon through the hangar’s forcefield and onto the landing pad. No permacrete had been squandered to make it; it was the same bluish green rock as the planetoid itself, roughly hewn and levelled. No effort had been extended to the concave walls, still as bare and uneven as the day they had been blasted into shape. Ahsoka didn’t like what she saw in the bay.

“Do your smuggler friends use Imperial packing crates?” she asked Han.

“Sometimes,” he answered. He opened up a holding case under one of the passenger seats and took out two blasters. “But let’s be careful anyway,” he murmured as he passed them to Luke and Ahsoka.

Luke brought a holster out from someplace and belted it. “You and Ahsoka should stand watch.”

“Why? It’s my ship.”

“And I’m the better mechanic. Come on, Han. There are people here.”

Ahsoka felt them, too, though it was obvious enough from the open supply crates and the remains of someone’s lunch sitting on a sled. She hefted the blaster and looked it over. It was a Dunter’s Mark Five, making up what it lacked in accuracy in sturdiness and reliability. With the help of the Force, it would do.

Ahsoka’s nerves jangled as they went down the ramp. Something didn’t feel right. Imperial-issue supply crates – although, to be fair, everyone used those. But more importantly, someone had turned on the heat.

Chewie raised Han up on top of the Falcon and clambered after him.

Luke rolled his eyes. “Han…”

“My ship, kid. Anyway, you’re the better lookout.”

Ahsoka and Luke fanned out in the hangar, looking for entrances. Unlike most installations, the door to the base wasn’t in line with the hangar bay entrance, but off on the right looking in. Ahsoka stretched out with her senses and thought she felt two passageways hidden behind panelling in the other two hangar walls, but they felt abandoned. All the life she could sense was behind the visible door.

She and Luke exchanged glances, then took up stations behind two stacks of crates on either side of the door. Luke jumped and grasped the top of his stack, pulling himself up – not a bad idea, he had a better view, most people didn’t look up and aiming upwards was not everybody’s forte, especially through a stormtrooper’s visor. She decided to imitate him and had just settled down on her stack when the door whooshed open.

Ahsoka immediately brought up her blaster, taking one of the two Imperials in her sights. Officers, low-ranking, by the bars on their chests. Wait, were those MI uniforms? She and Luke exchanged glances. Curiouser and curiouser.

“Hey, you’re supposed to broadcast the codes, not just sail in here!” One of the officers called to Han. “You better have the equipment we asked for!”

Ahsoka raised her blaster again, wondering if it was worth the noise, but Luke motioned her to stop. They waited as the officers passed them, heading towards the Falcon. They didn’t look up.

One of them spotted Chewie. “Hey, what’s that thing doing here?”

Luke nodded at Ahsoka and dropped behind the Imperials. Ahsoka followed suit and grabbed the nearest one around his neck. She didn’t have the time to see what Luke did, but she lost his sense in the Force briefly, then he reappeared. She finished putting hers to sleep and gently lowered him to the floor.

What now? How long did they have before someone came investigating?

Luke frowned down at them. “I don’t like this. What’s Military Intelligence doing here?”

Oh, no. She knew that look. It was generally on Master Kenobi’s face just before they went to investigate something “decidedly fishy”. “Luke, we can’t be late.”

“Hmmm.” He slung his MI guy over his shoulder and made his way to the Falcon. “Chewie! How long do you need for repairs?”

“About what, quarter of an hour?” Han answered from on top.

Behind him, Chewie gave the more accurate estimate of half-an-hour, three-quarters of an hour, tops, on account of the shift of the N-space coils having brought the coolant pipes out of alignment, too.

Ahsoka crossed her arms. “Oh, no, flyboy. This is cutting it short as it is. Whatever you are thinking about, there is no way you can guarantee it will not take longer than the repairs. This is important. This could give us Coruscant.”

Luke nodded and leaned against a strut, tilting his head back. “I know. I’m trying to think this through. This is a smuggler base. MI – whoever they’re working for now – shouldn’t even know about it, but they’ve taken it over. I want to know why. What’s so important, what’s so secret it has to be done on a rogue planet near the Dragos Cluster?”

Ahsoka closed her eyes briefly. Luke was right, of course. What was going on here? But they could come back. After all, the Imps might not notice that two of their officers were knocked out for a while and that what they thought was a supply ship had left without talking to anyone and did not, in fact, unload any supplies. They could get out of here, if the Force willed it, even without attracting more attention, but if they ever made it back here they would find nothing. The Imps would have cleared the base and set up whatever this is on some other Force-forsaken rock.

“What would MI want with a rogue planet near the…” Ahsoka bent down and rifled through her Imp’s pockets.

“What are you looking for?” Luke asked.

“They were waiting for cargo, supplies. I want to know what. Aha!” She brandished a data cylinder. “Can the Falcon read this?”

“No. But I have an Imp reader in my room, go ahead.”

She hadn’t thought about just how old the Falcon was; she hadn’t thought to bring her own reader. Luke hadn’t tidied before leaving the Falcon, what had once been a somewhat overwhelming but neat forest of stacks was now a layered archaeological excavation, including a semicircle of datapads and wands around the bed that looked like they had been dropped from a considerable height. Something was on and was talking in a tinny voice. Ahsoka started shifting everything around in search of the reader, hoping she wasn’t destroying some underlying order she couldn’t see.

She lifted a stack of old Republic-style datapads (why?) and stopped when her fingers encountered something pyramidal. She looked down and gasped.

It was a miniature holocron, not bigger than her fist, casting a dim, reddish light on the avalanche of warm, angora-weeble blankets.

It was a miniature Sith holocron.

And it was open.

It was the source of the voice, a little figure of a dark-robed creature, hood over its head, droning on in an archaic form of Dai Bendu about… horticulture?

Ahsoka picked it up and it shrunk back on itself, light dimming. Ahsoka swallowed, a bad taste in her mouth, then, on impulse, pocketed it. It was entirely possible that Sith holocrons did not need the Force to open. After all, they needed to get their acolytes from somewhere. But she could think about what Luke was doing with an open Sith holocron later. Right now, she needed the reader.

 It took her a moment to find it, because he’d installed it into the bulkhead behind his bed. There was a data wand inside. She reached to take it out but hit the play button instead. Odd. She wasn’t usually that clumsy.

It was a diary – no. It was translations, with a lot of cross-outs and question marks. Luke obviously never learned the old tongue, or he wouldn’t be struggling as much. There were some notes, too.

Hol. finally opened. 3P notes on ling. useful. Plants, care and use. Purpose?

Kriff, people use plants for decoration?

Oh, I see.

There followed a series of symbols – spaces on the holocron, Ahsoka realised. She resisted the urge to parse through the rest of the notes and tried to commit a few of the bookmarks to memory. If she managed to open the holocron herself, she could check and see what part of Sith horticulture had captured Luke’s attention.

She ejected the wand and inserted the Imp’s, her mind spinning. Sure, Luke’s notes didn’t include any anger that the holocron wasn’t showing him how to forge a new Sith Empire from the ashes of the old one, or any real frustration about the subject matter. He seemed bemused more than anything. Probably not a Sithling in training.

But how had he managed to open it in the first place?

Ahsoka’s thoughts were taken back to a Sith temple, Maul’s hooded form, Ezra’s desperation, guilt and anger bleeding into the Force, the holocron expanding, bathing the temple in hellish scarlet light. That had been a full-blown holocron, seeped in the Dark Side, oozing evil intent so that even the Force felt sluggish and oily. This little toy holocron didn’t feel like – anything. Ahsoka’s hand strayed to her pocket and she reached out tentatively in the Force. It radiated – helpfulness, eagerness. A lure, perhaps? In that case, Luke may not have recognised it as a Sith artefact. In fact, she reminded herself, Luke may be Force sensitive, but there wasn’t much of a chance he knew anything about Sith or Jedi. He must have opened the holocron by accident.

She shook herself and concentrated once more on the datawand.

Oh.

The supply ship was bringing troops, antenna arrays, specialised comm equipment – signal boosters?

She ran to the cockpit and hastily drew up the starcharts, highlighted what she knew about the location of Rebel bases and theatres of operations and had the chart overlay subspace channels.

She ran out and stopped in front of Luke, arms crossed.

“You have a plan, don’t you? Don’t tell me you don’t, I know your type. Well, you have half an hour. This is a listening post.”

Luke looked up at her from where he was divesting his MI officer of his jacket and hat. “I thought you couldn’t intercept subspace communications.”

“My best guess is that they’re masquerading as a relay station. If they found some way to replicate the ping from the Barraseen relay station at the edge of the Dragos Cluster, but send it ahead of the actual station, they might be able to intercept and pass it on with no one the wiser.”

There were several solutions. One was to tell Alliance Command where it was and make sure only certain specific communications were relayed through here. Normally, Ahsoka would recommend that plan, but from what her charts and notes told her, the Dragos Cluster Alliance relay was the only one for the three adjoining sectors of space. They would have to seek out and establish a new relay for the real communication between three important allied rebel cells, two allied planets, one of whom still needed a fair amount of consultation and personnel before officially declaring themselves for the Republic, and one of their own squadrons. Here, the Empire had found already-established facilities they could modify with a minimum of hardware and personnel. She didn’t know if the Falcon’s database had any other handy smuggler hideouts this near the Dragos Cluster, but she doubted it. The security measures were lax – Empire protocol usually had stormtroopers meet any incoming ships, no matter where they were. It seemed likely that whoever was running this operation had limited resources – and so did the Alliance. Setting up a new base was as expensive for them as it would be for the Empire. Destroying it was probably their best bet.

Luke nodded as though he had followed her train of thought. “Right. So we need to get in there and stop this. How are your slicer skills?”

“Mediocre at best.”

“No matter.” He started undressing. “Should’ve brought Artoo.”

“You’re not serious.” Ahsoka considered him. After all, she had taken him for an Imp defector at first.

“I’ve done this before, it’ll be fine.”

Han peeked over the edge of the Falcon. “Whaddaya mean, you’ve done this before? Done what?” He stopped short, his face frozen.

“What the hell, kid?”

Luke looked up. “Shouldn’t you be recalibrating something?”

“Don’t give me that wounded Loth-cat look, kid. What the hell are those?”

Luke seemed at a loss. “What are what?”

“These!” Han jumped down and jabbed a finger at a network of red, fernlike lines blossoming across Luke’s torso. Ahsoka was confused for a minute before remembering that humans didn’t have skin markings. These were scars.

“Oh, these.” Luke traced them with his left hand. They were all over his body, snaking down his left arm and disappearing into his trousers. Only the bottom half of his right arm was bare of them. Ahsoka frowned. They seemed familiar. “These are from Endor.”

Han stepped back as though stung. “Endor?”

Luke reached for the Imperial officer’s shirt. “Endor.”

“That – that stinking son of a rancor and a sarlacc! What else did he do to you?”

“Han.” Luke’s tone was mild. “I’m here. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine. And for the sake of – how the hell is this different from the tunics you usually wear? Coulda just pinned on the insignia.”

Ahsoka stepped in and fingered the piping on the collar. “MI has light blue piping on the collar. Luke’s uniforms don’t.”

“Where did you get those tunics, anyway? Imperial depot?”

“Hmmm. Star Destroyer. Undercover for about five weeks, and since by then most of my stuff was either here or back with my X-Wing, which I had left on Bespin… I took a full wardrobe when I left.” He produced the rank insignia for a Commander out of nowhere and proceeded to exchange it for the poor ensign’s.

“You went undercover on a Star Destroyer? What the hell was Command thinking? And where’s my guy?”

Luke smiled. “You are staying here to finish up on the Falcon. I was aide to the Captain. Information on troop movements. Actually, I sort of maybe accidentally on purpose had Artoo change the mission log and get some other guy off the hook. There was circumstantial evidence that Fett was or would be there to collect on another bounty, and Leia and I thought it might be worth the risk to get you off of him.” He pulled the jacket on. “Speaking of which, what are you wearing to the wedding?”

“Aaah – just – shut up and get dressed.” He jabbed a finger in Ahsoka’s direction. “And you better be taking her along.” Han stalked off, while Chewie barked something about overprotectiveness.

Ahsoka smiled slowly and crossed over to Luke. Those files, she had read. “There were only two Star Destroyer infiltrations since Yavin. Only one of them involved an aide… And it wasn’t on any old Star Destroyer.”

Luke grinned up at her. “Shhhh. I’m saving that one for when I really want to wind him up.”

Chewie chimed in… something about a TIE Interceptor. Ahsoka turned to him, aghast. “Wait, whose?”

Luke ducked his head and looked up at her through his lashes, his eyes dancing. “Hey, he left it just standing there in the middle of the hangar where anyone could take it.”

“And I suppose you stole the Emperor’s shuttle, too?”

“He didn’t need it anymore.” He stuffed several power packs for blasters into the pouches on his belt, then put on the cap. “How do I look?”

Ahsoka crossed her arms. “Nice. Now what, hotshot? I’m not exactly Imperial officer material.” She was curious as to where this was going. It was like watching an especially impressive Skywalker shipwreck – you couldn’t look away.

“Now,” Luke smiled and offered her his arm, “an MI inspector and his civilian communications specialist are going to inspect the base.”

Ahsoka took his arm. “This is an insanely bad idea.”

Luke grinned. “Only if we fail.”

She couldn’t do this. It was too much like being with her master and Obi-Wan – the need for information, the hare-brained plans to get it. The cocky confidence, the impersonations, the spur-of-the-moment impulses, trying to trust in Master Kenobi’s planning, trusting in the Force when everything went wrong. Luke reminded her of Obi-Wan – his deep, confident sense in the Force, his far-sightedness, his patience. But whenever she really opened herself to him, he was like a beacon, a nexus, a light well that drew her in, just like another Jedi who had had the same cocky grin…

They opened the hangar bay doors and Ahsoka came crashing back into the present. The corridors were empty. It was disturbing. Surely if they were awaiting a shipment, people would be preparing for it? Bringing sleds, opening up storage rooms, getting tools to install the equipment? There was nothing for it but to keep on going.

To try and calm her nerves – you would think she was a padawan on her first mission – she turned to Luke, trying for nonchalance. “So, Endor? Ground troops?” If he had been with Solo, he would have taken out the shield generator, which was the sum total of what she knew about Endor right now. What had she been thinking? Was she a youngling just out of the creche that she refused important operation information just because it made her feel bad?

“I was in orbit.”

Hunh. So much for that theory. Ahsoka changed tracks. “So how did you get those scars?” Had he been tortured? Solo seemed to think someone had done that to him deliberately.

“Electrical discharge.” He stopped at an intersection and tilted his head, as though listening. Ahsoka remembered the secret passages. She tried to get a feel for them, where they ended, but came up with nothing. Nonliving matter wasn’t easy. That’s what had made Grievous so annoying…

And suddenly Ahsoka remembered where she had seen scars like that before. Him. And not just him, Obi-Wan had had them, too. How…

“Force lightning,” she breathed.

He turned to look at her, his blue eyes huge and inscrutable. “Like I said, electrical discharge. Come on, this way.”

Ahsoka stared at him, thoughts swimming. Her master and Obi-Wan, the scars –  Count Dooku. Because Force lightning was just that, lightning. Much more powerful than a simple electric jolt. Their scars had been small, in comparison. One fern on Master Obi-Wan’s shoulder. One in the small of her master’s back. They had had others, they had told her, that had faded in a matter of days.

Endor was months ago. If none of Luke’s had faded yet…

How was he still alive? And what had he done to deserve the personal attentions of the Emperor himself?

It was, of course, possible that it was – Him – or one of the Inquisitors, but she doubted the Inquisitors were well-trained enough to manage something like that, and from all accounts His favourite trick was choking.

She had new leads, at least. The aide thing. Endor. Had he really stolen Darth – His – TIE Interceptor? He must have been furious! He’d always treated his ships like his babies. And the Emperor’s shuttle? As she turned back to Luke she saw him staring at her, his head tilted to one side. For a moment, Ahsoka felt the weight of the galaxy in his gaze.

Then he gave her a little, amused smile and disengaged his arms and brought his hands together before him, thumbs touching. “Try to look like you would rather be anywhere but here.”

She grinned as the tension disappeared. Just like old times indeed. “Come on, give me a hard one.”

Chapter Text

The doors opened onto a room full of consoles and electronic equipment. Three ebony-domed slicer droids whirred at various data ports; human comm specialists focused on their headsets and adjusted frequencies, cleared up static, filtered voice distorters. Data specialists stared intently at their screens, trying to identify encryption types, running decryption algorithms, sorting through files. The air smelled of iron and smoke – equipment overheating.

A round-faced man in a slightly ill-fitting uniform looked up from a holographic display and frowned. “Aren't Gunn and Tolliver with you?”

Luke's face twisted and he radiated such fury that Ahsoka stepped back. Several of the techs nearest them shrunk into their chairs, visibly trembling.

“What sort of joke is this? Where are your stormtroopers? Why did no-one demand our identification codes when we arrived?”

The officer swallowed visibly and stood at attention. “Lieutenant Brennings, sir! We're understaffed, sir. In fact, we were hoping you would bring reinforcements?”

“Really.” The two syllables dripped with disappointment and venom.  Whomever Luke was imitating, she felt sorry for those under his command. At least, Ahsoka hoped he was imitating someone. His interactions with Rogue Squadron and the flustered Lieutenant on Home One suggested his own command style was - friendlier.

“And your troopers?”

“Er…” Brennings swallowed. His eyes kept flicking from Luke to Ahsoka, trying to place her. “There was a rebel infiltration, sir. We captured the scum, sir, but half our squad is in, uh, the medbay. Sir.”

Half a squad of stormtroopers? Nice work, whoever it was. But… It complicated things. She looked over at Luke who was doing his best to seem unimpressed. His amusement leaked through the Force and she almost laughed along with it. Kriff.

“Half a squad in the medbay? For one rebel?” Luke scoffed. “I don’t see my report going well.” He flicked a gloved hand towards Ahsoka. “I brought you the expert you asked for. Set her up. Here, don’t dawdle, we’re due on 56-Argon in two days.”

Ahsoka dipped her head in what she hoped was a sufficiently subservient manner and walked over to the console a couple of pasty-faced techs hastily cleared for her. She wasn’t sure exactly what Luke had planned, but it involved the blaster packs. And, she realised, she now had access to the system and could find out how much the Empire knew and where the prisoner was located. She sat down, inserted the young officer’s data wand and tried to look busy. One of the comtechs leaned over her shoulder, flinching nervously as her lekku shifted. Idiot xenophobe.

“The files we need analysed are –“

“I know my way around a database,” she told him icily, angling her head so one of her lekku dropped onto his hand. She hated the buzz it gave her, but the speed at which he snatched it back was worth every frayed nerve ending.

Holding his hand near his chest, he swallowed and said, “Yes, but what we need is –“

“I know my job.” She glared at him. “Now why don’t you go do yours?”

Luke watched the exchanged impassively. Catching her eye, he nodded then turned to Brennings. “I will be shown around the installation.” Was that a ripple in the Force?

Brennings blinked. Ahsoka glanced at him – he still hadn’t asked for their credentials. She opened a random file to put on her screen and instructed the datawand to download the database. She didn’t know what sort of authorisations her ensign had had or how much space was on the datawand, but she would take what she could get. She looked around, but almost everyone was focused on Luke and Brennings; those who weren’t couldn’t see her screen. She searched for the layout of the base, hoping to find holding cells.

“You will be shown around the installation.” He blinked again and then pointed to another officer, a nervous young man with enormous brown eyes and curly hair. “Lieutenant, you will show the Commander around the base. Er – I didn’t catch your name, sir.” Brennings’ chin came up in nervous defiance.

Luke smiled a rancor’s smile. “Commander Owen Whitesun.”

There was a flurry of activity on one of the consoles and a trembling Comtech whispered something in Berrings’ ear. Berrings stood up straighter and nodded. “The Lieutenant will show you everything you need to see, sir. He’s… I spend most of my time here, sir. I was a Comtech before and we’re short-staffed. The Lieutenant takes care of the administrative side of things, sir.”

“I see.” Luke’s voice was so non-committal that Ahsoka could feel Brennings’ insecurity from across the room. Luke tilted his head at the curly-haired Lieutenant and made a sweeping motion towards the door. The Lieutenant effected a crisp salute, the first one Ahsoka had seen so far, and led the way.

“Carter, you’re with us.” The Lieutenant’s voice was high and cracking but he held his head high as he started out the door. Carter, a tall, bulky man with reddish hair, stepped up crisply and fell into step with Luke. Luke didn’t spare Ahsoka a glance as he went out.

Ahsoka sighed and concentrated on her readout. It made sense. They had no idea how the base was set up and this way Ahsoka could take care of the command centre while Luke scouted out the rest, leaving MI little time to wonder about any of their credentials. She supposed she ought to be glad that Luke trusted her to do what needed to be done, despite knowing nothing about her at all. It made her feel a little guilty for her suspicions. Luke had accepted and trusted her and he knew even less about her than she did about him.

Still. It would have been nice to have discussed the plan beforehand. Not that anyone else in her life ever had before, either. She was used to improvising.

Keeping an eye on the download on one corner of her screen, she navigated the base schematics. Interesting. It didn’t look like they knew about the smuggler’s tunnels; they seem to have mapped out the base when they arrived. Nothing on the schematics suggested detention cells. Feeling a nudge from the Force, she switched to the main registry just as one of the comtechs appeared at her side.

He handed her a mug of caf. “Here. My name’s Danton. If you can crack that randomizer, the lads and I have a bottle of Corellian brandy stashed somewhere. It’s driving command nuts.”

A randomizer? Ahsoka may not know how to code encryptions or even how to crack them, but she knew the theory behind most encryption types. A randomizer meant they needed to find out what installation or natural phenomenon was providing the input for the encryptions. That meant comparing certain patterns in the encryption with video feed from suspected sources. Cracking randomizers was extremely intuitive and extremely difficult, but with the still limited amount of resources the Alliance had, theoretically achievable. At least she had some idea of what she should be doing to make it look like she was working. So she nodded and pulled up a few pictures of planetary rings, the wind chime paths of Aureto (under Alliance jurisdiction for a month-and-a-half now) and the archives with the live-feed of jellyray swarms of the Alderaan North Hemisphere Aquarium and smiled at the tech.

“Thanks.”

He gestured to the datawand. Uh-oh. “Uh… Look, I know how hard it is to justify your existence as a comtech in this outfit as it is and for you… I mean, you know…” He stuttered to a stop, his mortification seeping out of every pore as he realised what a corner he had backed himself into.

“Yes, I’m very lucky in my sponsor,” she told him primly.

“What I mean is, any chance we can have a look at your algorithm?”

Ahsoka relaxed. Of course. She would need some sort of code to compare the random elements of the encryption to the original random elements it might be based on. She thought fast. “My sponsor prefers it to remain exclusive,” she told the tech.

He nodded sadly. “Our lives would be a lot easier if the muckamucks would stop with their power plays and just let us do our jobs.” He sighed. “Still, Glory to the Empire and all. What’s he like? Is it true he was Admiral Piett’s aide? Did he meet Darth Vader?”

Ah, so that was who Owen Whitesun was. A bit risky. He must have banked on the Executor being unwilling to admit anyone could manage an infiltration at that level.

“I wouldn’t know. Please. He values efficiency.”

The tech turned red and shuffled off with an apology, only to be swarmed by his comrades.

“That’s enough!” Lieutenant Brennings scowled at the techs. “Commander Whitesun is unimpressed enough as it is. Would you rather be reassigned to Mustafar? To your posts!”

The whisperings stopped and everyone scrambled to their assigned consoles. Ahsoka smirked. Comtechs were the same everywhere. If Luke took long enough, it might even be worth a little fraternising by the caf machine. She had yet to meet a Comtech who wasn’t also an inveterate gossip. No wait, there was that one lady at Chopper Base, Ensign Daez, who had sniffed so marvelously down her nose at any sort of idle chitchat.

Once she was certain they weren’t glancing at her terminal, she searched through registries until she found the reports from the last two weeks. For all she knew, the prisoner had been here longer than that, but it seemed unlikely. At any rate, she had to start somewhere.

Food rations, complaints – Force, comtechs really liked to complain, didn’t they? – aha: Incident Reports. A single person craft crashed on the surface. They had sent out troopers in evac gear who hadn’t found any survivors. Meanwhile, several troopers had failed to report from their rounds. The alarm had been sounded and the rest of the single stormtrooper squadron guarding the installation had scrambled. The infiltrator had been injured in the craft but still managed to down half-a-dozen troopers before being overwhelmed. Lt. Brennings had decided to hold him in custody until a skilled interrogator could be sent from command. They were waiting for a supply delivery and…

Ah, requisitions. In addition to the list of comm equipment she had found on her ensign’s data wand, the transport was supposed to bring an interrogator and a second squad of troopers. And it was, in fact, due today.

Oh, karabast.

Right. She switched directories and scrolled through trooper reports until she found one from the second-in-command from the right date. Prisoner secured. For lack of better facilities, secured in storage room Nern-Niner-Four.

Now she was getting somewhere. Abandoning any pretense of searching for pattern sources, she called up the base plan again and searched for storage room Nern-Niner-Four. There. She started committing the path from the command centre to the storage room to memory as she carefully took the blaster packs out of her pouches and thumbed them on, one after the other. Without any circuit to feed the energy into, they would overload in

Ten.

Three turns, four, five.

Nine.

No mention of security, apart from a “guard detail.” No idea how many stormtroopers that would be.

Eight.

In view of their reduced numbers, probably not too many. Maybe Luke would help?

Seven.

Danton the comm guy was getting himself another cup of caf, happily chatting away with two of his associates. One of them, a cute girl with a page cut, gave a little wave. Oh, why did he have to be nice? Why did he have to tell her his name?

Six.

She pushed away from her console, put in a quaver in her voice, pitched it high: “They sent an overload code! Quick, everybody out!”

Five.

Lt. Brennings frowned and opened his mouth. She leapt up and pushed him forward, toward the door. “Danton! Come on, my console’s going to overload!”

Four.

The world was full of commtechs pushing and shoving as they scrambled to get out, yelling. Someone with half a brain had pulled out a commlink and was yelling for troopers and a fire response squad. Oh, if only the enemies would stop being competent every once in a while.

Three.

Ahsoka funneled everyone along, using the confusion to levitate the overloading blasterpacks to important-looking consoles and server banks, one at a time.

Two.

She gave the last of the retreating comtechs a subtle Force push on their collective bottoms, tumbling out of the room.

One.

She leapt.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka rolled as she got free of the door and palmed the closing mechanism. She turned to Luke, leaning against the wall and watching the last of the fleeing Imps with a grin on his face. The MI officers who had accompanied him out lay prone on the floor at his feet.

“You just left me there!” Ahsoka crossed her arms and glared at him.

“I knew you’d do fine. Did you set your charges?”

A series of explosions vibrated through the floor and rocked the doors on their rails. Ahsoka raised her eyebrow at him, arms still crossed. Luke grinned and gave her his two-fingered salute. She turned away, her throat suddenly tight. His expression… the utter cheek, the mirth in those blue eyes… She needed to meditate. Like, now.

Luke leaned down and divested the officers of their weapons and, for good measure, their insignia of rank. “What did you tell them to get them to evacuate? They came out like womprats scattering before a krayt dragon.”

“I just said the console had overloaded. That there was some sort of trigger code in one of the transmissions.”

“You can do that?”

“How should I know? I’m not a slicer!” She started down the corridor. No time to meditate. She fed her emotions into the Force as well as she could. It latched onto them greedily, sucking her dry. She almost faltered. Second junction, then left. “How did you know they were waiting for an expert?” she asked to distract herself.

He rolled his eyes and started after her. “I hear most of what goes on at Communications and Intel on Home One. There’s always an expert missing for something.” She heard his footsteps stop behind her. “I did what I could on the secondary array while Lt. Freeds showed me around. I hope he made it out all right. He has a kid.”

And that was also so much Obi-Wan. He would know a person’s name, where their parents were living and how many kids they had within minutes of meeting them. Obi-Wan had been more congenial, though in the end, Ana – He – cared more. Had cared more.

Ahsoka didn’t slow down. It might be better if Luke went back to the Falcon; she could deal with this herself. “Meet me at the Falcon. There’s something I need to do, first.”

“Did you find out where they’re holding the prisoner? Lt. Freeds didn’t know – they just told the stormtroopers to find somewhere to stash them – they don’t have any detention cells here.”

“They’re being held in a storage room.”

Luke caught up to her. “What bothers me is why they didn’t they ramp up security. We practically strolled in here and no-one challenged us. Our friends in the hangar bay didn’t take even elementary security precautions.”

Ahsoka bit her lip and put it from her mind. “I don’t know. They didn’t seem all that professional all-around, did they?”

Luke brightened. Ahsoka winced as, once more, the Force amped up its intensity. “Of course! They just slapped a bunch of comtechs of the right ranks on a little-used smuggler’s safe house. They probably figured there wasn’t much chance of someone coming by. The ones back at the Alliance were never much for following any protocols except their own, and the ones on Executor were basically the same, but with a healthy dose of fear mixed in. They probably just forgot.” He checked the charge on his blaster. “Though with their level of competence, I’m surprised they managed to capture anyone, even with a squad of troopers.”

“I supposed it could just be a smuggler who didn’t get the memo,” Ahsoka allowed.

“Only one way to find out,” Luke agreed. He kept pace with her easily. Most people couldn’t.

“Isn’t there more equipment you should be destroying?”

“Probably,” he answered easily. “But should we be separating on a base we don’t know without working comms?”

“We don’t have working comms?”

Luke shrugged. “I think most of the software was in the main command room.”

“Oh, one of those plans.”

Luke chuckled. “It’s not a good plan if nothing at all goes wrong.”

Ahsoka clamped her jaw shut and fought down another wave of nostalgia. No, as much as she had missed this, it was probably better she continue working alone, or she would get bogged down in memories and of no use to anyone.

Another junction, a right this time. Now Ahsoka could feel the Force nudging her along the right path like an eager toddler. She broke into an all-out run.

They reached a storage-room door and there were actually guards on it – two surprised-looking stormtroopers chatting about their sweethearts. Confused by Luke’s uniform, they brought their weapons up to bear just a second too late. Luke’s hand-to-hand technique was crude, the bare minimum the Alliance taught all their people, but he was fast. The blasters clattered down onto the floor in synch and flew into Luke’s hands.

Wait, they did what?

Ahsoka pursed her lips together as she lowered her own trooper to the floor. “We need to talk.”

Luke looked back at her, his face inscrutable. “Yes. We do. Later.” He stepped to the door commands. “Hunh. Comm officers seem to understand digital security, at least.” He grasped the edges of the panel with his gloved hand and pulled. It bent out of the wall, exposing wires.

“Nice upgrade,” Ahsoka told him, neutrally. This was getting more and more eerie. It was the right one, too.

“Even nicer if it had been voluntary,” Luke murmured as he fiddled with the wires. The surge of emotions from him was so unexpected and so tangled – some of them soft echoes, memories of feelings more than feelings themselves – worry and fear, confusion and hurt, betrayal and despair, acceptance, forgiveness, fondness, hope. Fondness? For losing his hand? Hope?

“What happened?” Two more stormtroopers surged around the corner. Either they had been escaping the confusion at the operations centre or had heard the commotion here and not really expected to find anyone, but Ahsoka had them on the floor before they had time to slow down.

Luke grunted. “Family disagreement. Okay, I’ve got it.”

Family what? She wondered what his family did when they were really angry.

The doors slid open and the Force coalesced, a beacon and sigh. Ahsoka stretched her senses into the room and realised what the Force had been telling her. Her face split into a smile as she shouldered her way past Luke and to a man with a bald head and strong features and a cropped white beard. She still wasn't used to the bald head. Or the white beard.

He was lying on a makeshift bunk made out of a few low storage cases and some blankets. Someone here, at least, had some compassion. Catching sight of her, he raised himself up on his elbows and beamed. “Commander!”

She knelt down beside his pallet and gave him an awkward hug. “Rex! What are you doing here?”

“Same question.” He hugged her back, and pounded her on the back. “I didn't have time to send off a distress signal.”

Ahsoka paused and questioned the Force. It felt decidedly – smug. How? There hadn't been anything wrong with the hyperdrive, the damage had come from being yanked so unceremoniously out of hyperspace. But... The Force didn't just act on its own.

Or did it? Could this new, jubilant Force, freed from the shackles of the Dark Side, actually act on its own?

There were sounds of a scuffle outside and the thump of bodies on the ground. Ahsoka put the question aside for now. They needed to get Rex and themselves out of here. She looked down at him. One of his legs had been wrapped and splinted. There was a red stain seeping through the bandages.

“Can you walk?”

He grimaced. “I'll manage.”

“That leg’s broken,” Luke said absently as he stepped in. “We need to get going, there's a lot of people coming our way.” He brightened a bit when he saw Rex. “Clone Rex!”

Ahsoka bristled but was distracted by the look on Rex's face. It was close to adoration. “Commander, sir!”

“How did you get yourself into this pickle? I thought you told me clones were indestructible.”

“Getting old, sir. But I can walk. Got a splint, see?”

Luke rolled his eyes. “And people tell me I'm a bad patient. All right, come on.” He threw the blasters he had collected to Ahsoka, who caught them absentmindedly. How did they know each other?

“Careful,” Luke told her. “They're almost empty.”

Ahsoka remembered that blasterpack chargers had been on the requisitions list. “I can carry him.” She felt protective and almost – jealous? How could the two of them have a history? How could Rex know more about this odd young man than she did? She tried to let the emotion flow out with her breath.

“Yeah, but considering the blaster charges – you're better at hand-to-hand.”

“Sir,” Rex chided. “What did I tell you about relying on bloody ships too much?”

Luke winked and turned to drape Rex's arms around his shoulders. “Don’t worry, my other skills got an upgrade. Come on. Our ride is waiting.”

Rex groaned. “Not that piece of Corellian pudu?”

“Talk like that about the Falcon again and I'll let Chewie set your leg.”

Rex snorted and grinned over at Ahsoka. “Just like old times, eh, Commander?”

Ahsoka put her hands on her hips and turned away. “Just try and keep up.” As if he ever could, even without a broken leg.

They started down the corridor. Ahsoka reached out with her senses and saw that Luke was right. There were several groups of people headed their way. Ahsoka chewed her lip and fingered the clasp on the pouches that held her lightsabers. Rumours of Jedi in the Alliance were generally a good thing. It gave hope to the Alliance and had put fear in the Emperor’s shrivelled little heart. And now, of course, in the hearts of those who were trying to take over. She glanced over at Luke. Force-sensitive, yes. And he knew it. And had some measure of control over his abilities, if he could pull blasters to him. And had a baby Sith holocron.

She closed the clasps again and checked on the blaster charges. Still low. Well, here went nothing.

Luke’s shooting was good, especially considering the added weight of Rex, which, in view of his slight frame, should have had him decidedly listing. Ahoska would scout ahead, clearing intersections if she could, while Luke took care of their rear. A few corridors down they found themselves back-to-back to head off a flurry of droids coming from one side and some very flustered comtechs on the other, including Luke’s Lt. Freed. Rex and Luke were chatting amiably as Luke fired off one blaster shot after another. They seemed to be catching up.

“…another mission with General Syndulla. Classified, I’m afraid. You ever fly with Phoenix Squadron, Commander?”

“Once.” Luke pivoted, unbalancing Rex who clutched at the boy, wincing as he came down on the wrong leg. Tap-tap, and Lt. Freeds fell to his knees, clutching his shoulder. “Well, not all of them. I ran into Wren on a mission. She's interesting.”

“One way of putting it. I guess Kanan and Ezra were before your time. They would…”

Rex’s voice was drowned out by a high-pitched whine as a maintenance droid ran screaming past them, pincers waving frantically.

“Oh, did that pirate ever get those holos to you?” Luke yanked Rex upright and helped him along. “Ohnaka really didn’t seem all that trustworthy, but he went on and on when I mentioned Clone Rex and said he had something for you. I gave him some money to deliver –“

Ahsoka snapped. “Clone Rex?” She shot a slicer droid in his sensor eye, leaving him wheeling around in circles and tripping up another maintenance droid and two scouts.

But it was Rex who answered, his voice placating. “Commander, there were three different people called Rex at any of the bases at any one time. There’s Zabrak Rex, Saluccian Rex and Mandalorian Rex.”

Luke nodded, trotting along. Though bent under Rex's weight, he was keeping pace with her and didn't seem to be out of breath. “I think there’s also a human lady on Coral Day called Rex. Not to mention Rax, they’re part of Blue Squadron, and Riux, she’s a smuggler who works for Dodonna sometimes. Rex told me to call him that when we met.”

“Yeah,” Rex agreed, wincing as Luke's gait jarred his leg. “Not like I have a last name to go by.”

Luke cocked his head at that, frowning, then jumped back as shots flew from the next intersection. Ahsoka fired and downed them all.

“This is like amateur night,” she remarked, firing a last shot that hit a somewhat overenthusiastic scout droid careening towards them with a high-pitched whine. “What were they thinking, leaving a listening-post like this undefended? We've known about the security leak for months, they've been acting on the information. Surely that’s worth enough to them that they would make sure the base was properly provisioned, give them more than just a squad of troopers.”

“Hey, Commander?” Rex called out from behind her. “See if you can detach that droid's firing arm. You can get up a good volley if you hold it correctly.”

Ahsoka did some precision blaster surgery on the droid and tossed its arachnid arm in Rex's direction. He caught it and grinned. “Now that’s more like it.”

Luke remarked, “I think we need a similar system. Two Commanders? I never know if you’re talking to me or Ahsoka.”

“So I can be Togruta Commander and you can be Human Commander.” Ahsoka pushed the heavy droid out of the way and tried to get her bearings.

Luke rolled his eyes. “Actually, I was hoping to finally convince him to just call me Luke.”

Ahsoka looked him over and eventually nodded. “Okay, Rex. I guess you get to keep him.”

“Oh, I was intending to. Have you seen him in a firefight?”

Ahsoka smiled. That was the best praise any of the vod’e could give. She gave him Rex a coy smile. “So we’ve come across about seven or eight troopers now. How many did you dispatch?”

“Half a dozen,” Rex grinned over Luke's shoulder. “Can’t be many left.” His face fell. “I was just supposed to find out where they were hiding the listening post, but a supply ship caught my fighter as it was on its way out. Had to land outside. Fortunate I had my evac suit.”

“How did you get in?” Luke asked.

“Tunnels. Don’t think the Imps know about them, but one of them ended not too far from where I crashed.”

“Old smuggler base,” Luke told him. “How’s your leg?”

“Eh. Hurts. They were pretty nice about it, considering.” He sobered up. “One of ‘em was Differ.”

Ahsoka looked back. “Differ?”

“Ah, you wouldn’t have known him, necessarily. Gruntboy; he was a pioneer.”

Luke hauled Rex around a corner and changed the powerpack on his blaster. “You served together?”

“He was vod.”

Ahsoka frowned and passed her own empty blasters to Luke. “I thought Wolffe said all the clones had been decommissioned?”

Rex shifted and looked anywhere but her. “Yeah, well, not all of us. If you were lucky, you got a transfer to the 501^st.”

Right. Ahsoka pinched her lips together and breathed out into the Force. “So what’s Differ doing here?”

“Probably got kicked out. He wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. But he was kind enough to a vod,” Rex gestured to his leg. “Gave me a little recruitment speech and everything. I told him I was done with the 501^st and he could bugger off. 332^nd, me.”

Luke looked over to him. “You were 501^st?” Then he shook his head, eyes down. “Right. Sorry. I forget sometimes.”

Forget? What did Luke forget? How much had Rex told him, exactly? She remembered how eager Rex had been to work with Caleb – Kanan – and how little he had told him. Kanan had never asked what legion the boys had served in, had never wanted to know. But Luke knew?

Luke tossed her some recharge blasters and shrugged Rex to a better position on his shoulder. They started up again down the next rough-hewn corridor. “Speaking of which, do we know who this is?” He waved vaguely around, taking in the whole installation. “My guys weren’t chatty and it would have been a bit of a tell if I had asked outright. Do we know who's been acting on this information? And why they couldn’t be bothered to protect this place properly?”

A scout droid turned into the corridor and stopped, wavering, beeping irresolutely to itself. Ahsoka aimed and pulled the trigger, only to have the weapon splutter in her hands. She tossed it back to Luke and pulled another one from her belt. “Whoever’s in the Lettric Nebula. We think maybe Piett or Pelleaon, or possibly Daala, though it’s not really her tactical style.” One shot, two, empty. She switched again, then ducked as a flurry of shots came her way. A group of comm technicians – though they had it together, and were shooting back in some sort of order. “You all right back there?”

“Is it just me or are they getting better?”

Ahsoka scanned the emotions of the next group, just around the corner. “More desperate, I think. The fire in the command centre is spreading.” Ahsoka realised what Luke had been aiming at. “You think whoever they belong to are gathering forces for a strike?”

“Dunno. But it would fit. Even if you’re stretched thin, you protect the one asset that’s giving you an advantage, don’t you? Unless you really need every blaster you can get.”

When the shots started coming, it was obvious someone had actually gotten organised. They weren’t surprised by the intruders on their way to somewhere else, but instead lay in wait at strategic points, large containers set into place to provide cover, shooting at anyone approaching the last intersection from several directions at once. Ahsoka nudged Luke back to the previous intersection before they came into range. No way she could get a shot in with her remaining blaster while under fire.

She had absolutely no problem with her enemies knowing what she could do. If she put the fear of the Jedi Order into them, then it was just retribution for hunting down and killing her family. It could also turn the tide into her favour; that little bit of awe, that wonderment, that fear, could delay a finger on a trigger just long enough.

She was much more hesitant about showing herself to allies. Especially someone as young as Luke, someone who – not so much someone who had never met a Jedi before, there were plenty of people in the old Republic who never had, and many who thought that their abilities had been exaggerated – but someone who had grown up knowing the Jedi were dead, knowing they were nothing but a myth or firelight stories or, even worse, dark creatures used to scare little children into eating their vegetables and looking both ways before crossing a street. Some were scared. Others expected the impossible, having taken every story their parents had whispered to them in secret and magnified it in their imagination. Either they thought she was no better than – Him; or else they thought she was a goddess who could right all wrongs with the flick of wrist.

Behind her, she heard Luke asking Rex, “You all right to stand for a bit?”

“Don’t worry about me.” She heard clicks as he shifted the droid arm, heard the smirk in his voice. “I’m set. What about you? Don’t see your weapon anywhere.”

“It would have looked a little odd for an Imperial officer to go around armed, don’t you think?”

Rex chuckled and Ahoska heard a soft thunk as he leaned against the wall. She wondered if any of the secret tunnels came out near their position. She tried to stretch out her senses but found it hard to concentrate on that over the crossfire before her. There didn’t seem to be any entrances out here.

Luke knelt down beside her. “If we can take out that group in front…”

“What are you thinking?”

“Stick with what works?” He handed her a blasterpack. “This one’s almost full.”

“Overload it, try and get the ones behind the crates in one go, hope we can shoot our way past the intersection?”

He shrugged. “You have a better idea?”

No. She didn’t. Except… Trying for nonchalance, she asked, “Can you topple those crates?”

He glanced at her, the corners of his mouth twitching as though she had made a joke. “Sure.”

“Catch them by surprise. I have a feeling that these,” she threw the blasterpack back at him, “might still come in handy.”

He nodded and loaded his blaster again. “Okay.” She wasn’t sure what was so funny. The fact that she had caught on that he was Force-sensitive? Was toppling crates some weird hobby of his? Anyone who slogged through archaic Dai Bendu in order to translate how to keep cacti alive was bound to have weird hobbies.

She jumped when the crates went tumbling down in a decrescendo of clunks and yells, and the world exploded into blaster fire as the groups on either side of the intersection opened up fire reflexively. She looked wildly over to Luke, who vaulted back to Rex, grabbed him and hauled him along, blaster held high. “Come on!”

He hadn’t moved his hand.

Everybody moved their hands when pulling or pushing. You didn’t need to, exactly. It was a crutch. Everybody knew it was a crutch. Everybody did it anyway.

Not Luke.

The corridor stank of carbon scoring, smoke darkened her vision. They may be only comm specialists, they may not be well trained in recognising and containing threats, but someone had taught them how to shoot and one officer, at least, had kept a level head. She thought she saw a few bucketheads gleaming behind the barricades, the ones Rex hadn't gotten, the last few she and Luke hadn’t yet dispatched.

The load lightened slightly, the Force slowed down her movements, she was better able to keep up. She tried to open herself again when a voice next to her ear said, “Right past those containers, a panel on the right-hand side.”

They were past the intersection and up against the tumbled crates. They didn’t even need to look at each other. Ahsoka leapt up, avoiding the last few shots while Luke protected Rex. She felt the other attackers moving from their positions and converging on them, but within a heartbeat Luke had leapt over the mound of overturned crates, carefully levitating Rex over to follow. Ahsoka reached out with the Force and felt along a wall panel. A slight depression, a click, and the panel slid aside, revealing a low, roughly-hewn corridor. There weren’t any lights. It was also so low they would need to crouch.

“Who made these, Sullustans?” Ahsoka groused. She was very much for introducing the Wookie Standard in construction. She was always banging her montrals on stuff.

Luke peered in and told her, “Go first. I’ll go in backwards.” He slowly tilted Rex into the horizontal. Ahsoka looked at his hands. Most people also did some sort of gesture when levitating things. Luke hadn’t. Again. “I hope there aren’t any sharp corners.”

“Oh, what's another dent in the armour,” Rex said drily. “Here.” He handed them both some glowsticks. “Took them off the bucketheads. They won’t be needing them.”

“Differ?”

Rex shook his head. “You must have gotten him early on. Stupid bucketheads and their shiny armour.” His voice was thick and Ahsoka laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. Poor Differ. She wondered if he had died with Order 66 still ringing in his ears or as himself, whether he had stayed with the stormtroopers out of guilt, rage or simple lack of anywhere else to go.

Time crawled in the tunnel along with them. Not entirely sure how it ran, they kept as silent as they could, their careful progress over the dusty green-grey rock punctuated only by the occasionally grunt as one of Rex's legs was jarred. Ahsoka wondered how long they had been gone from the Falcon, how much time they would need in hyperspace, whether she would make the rendez-vous at all. They shouldn’t have gone for Rex. The fact that the prisoner's name hadn't been in the files was irrelevant. She had known it was someone important to her. Closing down the listening-post – that made sense. But she had endangered a mission because of personal attachments – going against everything they had taught her. Against everything she knew was true. If ever there was someone for personal attachments, it had been her Master, and look where that had landed him.

The tunnel twisted and turned, with no sound but the shuffling of their footsteps and the reassuring hum of atmospheric controls pumping in breathable air. Fortunately, the turns were wide, saving Rex from too many scrapes. They reached a door with a brightly-lit locking panel. Ahsoka stretched out her senses but had to shut down her connection to the Force. There were more people behind that door. A lot more.

She relayed that information to Rex and an intently staring Luke. “Han and Chewie are in there. It’s the hangar.,” Luke answered.

“You do know it’s creepy when you do that?” Rex told him conversationally.

For the first time since she met him, Luke seemed nonplussed. “How often have you seen me do this exactly? I thought you fought with Jedi?”

“Was creepy when they did it, too. And you forget I was ground assault on Endor, with General Solo. Heard you chatting in the cockpit. So,” he shifted against the cushioning of the Force, “what are we looking at?”

Ahsoka bit her lip. “Way too many people. There shouldn’t be that many people left on base.”

“Reinforcements,” Rex said, his voice gravelly.

“Probably.” The question was, do they wait or try and sneak by? From the way the officers had greeted the Falcon, they might not question her presence here if Chewie had the good sense to stay on board. Presumably whatever faction of the Empire they belonged to frequently hired independent traders. Then again… The Force presences on the other side of the door flared up, took on a biting edge.

“Oh, what did Han say to them?” Luke groaned.

Rex snorted. “General Solo? Probably just opened his mouth.”

“Yeah.” Luke tilted his head at the door. “Shall we?”

They came out behind a high stack of crates, to the echoing sound of tramping feet. Troopers. The promised squad. Peeking between two crates, their metal cold beneath her cheek, Ahsoka saw that most of the hangar was now filled with a carelessly parked shuttle, wings folded, cockpit pointed towards them like a brooding hen.

The chicks in their clicketing white armour had been heading towards the big hangar bay doors, the official ones, but something had stopped them, made them about-turn, made them head toward the Falcon, where Solo was on the ramp, gesticulating in some sort of proclamation of innocence.

A man walked by, in an Imperial uniform, a black interrogation droid floating at his shoulder like an ominous pet.

Ahsoka held out a hand and the hangar bay door clanked shut. Everybody turned at the sound.

They ran and hopped as fast as they could to the next group of crates, but Rex was slow and they were seen. A barrage of shots seared over their heads; the heavy metal of the crates popped and sizzled as they were hit with bolts.

Ahsoka bit her lip in frustration. “We haven’t really done that much permanent damage. They have one new comms console already in this shipment – not great, and I’m sure the comtechs will be filing plenty of complaints about it, but I’m pretty sure they could intercept something using that and the sensor dish.”

“Hmmm,” Luke agreed absently. “What if we mess up the landing bay?”

Ahsoka followed his gaze to the shuttle, its wings demurely folded in like a contently clucking grey metal brooding hen sitting on her chicks. “What are you thinking? I don’t know if we have time for you to put that thing on autopilot,” she warned him.

“Nothing so complicated. Can you take Rex?”

“Give me a second, I need to get him over my shoulders.” When she had positioned herself under Rex she nodded to Luke and Rex's weight settled gently on her shoulders, like a sigh. “They're advancing. What's your plan?”

“Testing an adage.”

He took a step away from the crates and closed his eyes.

“An adage? What adage?”

“Size matters not.” He breathed in deeply and simply – melted into the Force. Ahsoka stared. How did he do that? He raised a hand. “Go!”

Powered by some part of her mind not privy to actual thought, Ahsoka ran towards the Falcon's ramp. Behind her, metal screamed. She risked a look back to see the shuttle leap from the deck and launch itself at the advancing attackers as though it were a pebble in a game of Force marbles. She saw the Imperials leap back, falling on top of each other in their eagerness to flee. Then all she saw was the shuttle tumbling port over aft, its wings striking sparks on ceiling and floor as it gouged deep gashes into the permacrete. A whirlwind arose around Luke as crates and equipment started rotating around him like planetary satellites. Pieces of the shuttle detached themselves with an ear-splitting shriek to join them.

“Come on!” Han's voice cut through her – it wasn't thoughts, because there was no room for anything so mundane in this maelstrom of the Force. “Bring him in! The kid can take care of himself!”

As though Han's words were a lifeline to reality, the paralysis left her and she turned her back on it, blocking off her sense of the Force as she ran the last few metres up the ramp.

“Does he do this often?” She asked Han, carefully slipping Rex off her back so Chewie could take him up.

“No idea. I've never seen anything like it. What's with the – oh look, it's Clone Rex. Nice of you to join the party.”

“He was a prisoner – he's injured,” Ahsoka told him.

“There's something like a medical cot up front. Kid talked you into a rescue, hunh?” He ushered her forward and pointed to a bench just behind the cockpit. “I hope we have everything. I have no idea what Lando used up and I haven't had a chance to restock.” He ran back to the ramp and Ahsoka heard him yell, “Luke! Stop playing around and get in here, we're taking off!”

Chewie jogged past her and gently lowered Rex onto the bench, taking the time to show her which panel opened into first-aid supplies before falling into the copilot's chair and going through the startup sequence. Han soon barrelled past, throwing himself into his seat and mashing buttons and throwing levers. Ahsoka felt the Millennium Falcon begin to rise. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the adrenaline, and searched for Luke in the Force. For a moment, she felt nothing. No! She was good at this! She could...

Somewhere at the top of the Falcon's ramp, the Force suddenly coalesced to form a Luke-shaped being. “Luke's onboard!” she yelled into the cockpit.

“Hold on to something!” Han yelled.

Ahsoka grabbed the edge of the cot and pushed Rex back on as they escaped the dwarf planet. Shockwaves battered them, making the Falcon yaw, and then they were past the opening and out into space. Ahsoka felt like her skin was being peeled from her face. The Falcon had a heck of an acceleration.

There was a tremor from the gun turrets. Through the front windscreen, Ahsoka saw an antenna dish, built flush into the rogue planet’s surface, go up in flames.

“Alright everybody,” Han shouted. “Brace yourselves, we're going to hyperspace!” He and Chewie exchanged a few terse comments and pulled the levers. The hyperspace engines whined, built up momentum, and -

Silence.

“Weren't we going to hyperspace?” Ahsoka called out.

“It's not my fault!” Han was frantically calling up readings. “We recalibrated everything!”

Luke jogged in and stopped next to Ahsoka, observing the scene with a small smile on his face. He turned to her, grinned, and banged his fist against the fuel injection controls on the cockpit's ceiling. The Falcon spluttered once, twice and Ahsoka was thrown back as realspace twisted and the hypnotic streaks of hyperspace blossomed onto the display.

She slumped back, heart pumping in her chest. “Wow. This ship is literally falling apart. So what's our ETA for Deil Kerran?”

Chewie barked out an estimate in local time.

“You'll be late,” Luke told her softly. “I'm sorry.”

Ahsoka shook her head as something eased in her chest. “Only by half-an-hour. I have a three-hour window where my contact will be available. I just like to be there early, get a feel of the place. We'll be fine. Hopefully.”

As long as they didn’t suddenly get thrown out of hyperspace again.

Rex shifted on the cot, winced. “Deil Kerran?”

Ahsoka pried a medical scanner from the compartment and started adjusting the controls. “I have a contact there that might be able to give us a back door into Coruscant.”

Rex whistled. “Good thing we knocked out their little listening-post then, eh?”

Ahsoka gave him a wry grin. “Good thing someone thought to blast the sensor dish.”

Luke slumped down on the floor beside her and leaned his head against the cot. “It should be okay. They have no hardware left for the primary array, I got the dish and destroyed a lot of random wiring with the Force while Lieutenant Freed was showing me around the secondary array.”

Rex snorted. “And with the state we left the cargo bay in, they won't be getting repair supplies in anytime soon. Was that a boom?”

Luke nodded. He seemed a little grey around the edges. “I wedged a cargo sled into the fuel injection core.”

Rex shifted slightly to put a hand on Luke's shoulder. Ahsoka pushed him back so she could finish the scan. “That was pretty impressive there, kid. Your father would be proud.”

Luke lit up. “Impressive? You think so?” He turned to the cockpit. “You hear that, Han? I was impressive!”

“You're not impressive, kid, you're downright scary. Now are you gonna let me fly this ship or not?” came the voice from the cockpit. Chewie added some encouragement along with a few choice words for Han.

Luke let his head fall back against the cot, grinning like a youngling who had just levitated their first boulder.

Ahsoka and Rex exchanged looks. Did he really have no idea of the difficulty of what he had done?

Rex looked over to Luke, who had closed his eyes and was breathing softly. “He doesn't have much of a frame of reference, is what I'm thinking.”

Ahsoka put the scanner away and started looking through the splint supplies. They were all there. “How do you know him?”

Rex grunted as she started applying the splint and bacta patches. “Everyone knows the kid. We haven't had much of a chance to talk, though.”

Han got up from the cockpit and draped himself between the two passenger seats. “How many missions you go on together? You don't get to call him kid. So what was all that about?”

Ahsoka started to tell him about the security leak but Han held up a hand. “I was talking to Rex. You knew his old man?”

“Fought with him during the Clone Wars.”

“Hunh.” He leaned against the bulkhead, thumbs hooked in his belt.

Ahsoka looked up from where she was tending to Rex's leg. Rex had served with Luke’s father? Luke didn’t look anything like any of the clones – could they even have kids? One of the naval officers, maybe? Surely not Yularen?

 “Tell the kid some stories,” Han told Rex. “The old kook didn't have much time for that.”

“Every time I see him, General Solo.”

Han sauntered past them. As he passed Luke, Han kicked his outstretched legs. “No meditating!”

Luke opened his eyes. “What?! That wasn't me!”

“Well, just in case.” Han’s voice softened. “Get some real sleep, kid. You need it, especially after those fireworks.”

Luke looked up at him. “Meditating's easier.”

“I hear you. But sleep's better.”

Luke watched Han’s retreating form, his eyes far away. Ahsoka handed him a roll of gauze. “Hold this while I wrap.” He obediently held the gauze in place as she carefully wrapped Rex’s leg, keeping the splint and bacta in place so they could do their job. The sharp smell of bacta stung her nostrils “So who taught you?”

“Been on field medic duty often enough. The fate of a pilot during ground assaults.”

“I meant how to levitate shuttles.”

“No-one taught me to levitate shuttles. But I sucked at X-Wings, so…” he smiled up at her, some private joke making his blue eyes dance. Then Rex yowled in pain as Luke’s hand spasmed on his thigh. His eyes rolled back and he started shaking.

“Sir!” Rex put his hand on Luke’s shoulder, squeezing. He was gritting his teeth against the pain. Ahsoka tried to pry Luke’s hand from his thigh, but it was the mechanical one. It shouldn’t be processing faulty neurological impulses. Ana – His prosthetic had had safeties protocols to prevent this sort of thing. She was just short of breaking the stupid thing before he seriously injured Rex, but the Force had gone frantic, slipping and sliding away from her like a live wire. Suddenly her vision was filled with fur, the earthy smell of Wookie filling her nostrils as Chewie knelt beside Luke and gently stroked his head. The spasming immediately subsided. Chewie kept petting his and growling softly until Luke’s spasms calmed to shivers.

Then he gently pried Luke’s hand from Rex’s thigh and asked Luke when he had last slept.

Luke just stared at him with unseeing eyes. Ahsoka could feel when consciousness returned as the Force settled and sighed and actually responded to her. Luke took a few breaths and immediately turned to Rex. “Did I hurt you?”

Rex grunted. “Nah.”

Chewie slapped Luke on the head and repeated his question. Luke looked sideways at him. “I meditated.”

Chewie gave a few more choice words about overdoing it and not resting between missions. He ended by threatening to tell Solo about his episodes before going back to the cockpit.

Ahsoka opened a new bacta patch and slapped it on the area Luke had pinched. It was already turning black and blue.

Ahsoka pinched her lips. If this was a common occurrence, then Luke was a liability. But Rex beat her to it.

“What was that all about?” Rex’s voice had an edge to it. The kind he used on shinies that failed to report a few hundred clunkers strolling by their command post.

“Electrical discharge,” Luke answered, looking Ahsoka in the eyes. “I’m fine until the adrenaline crashes. I haven’t had anything like this in over a month.”

Chewie barked something about pilots’ timekeeping practices.

Ahsoka crossed his arms. “Three weeks, hunh?”

Rex coughed and changed tracks. “Why don’t you want Solo to know about this?”

Luke leaned back and closed his eyes. “Han fusses. He needs to focus on more important things.”

Chewie asked if what he was wearing to the wedding was one of the things Han should be focused on.

Luke’s eyes snapped open. “Chewie, please tell me Han’s bought something for the wedding.”

Chewie protested that he was hardly the right person to go clothes-shopping with.

“And you think I am? Han bought me most of my things, Leia the rest, and I have my Imperial tunics. Otherwise I spent most of my life wearing the same cut of tunic out of the same linen cloth – oh, and flight suits. Let’s not forget the flattering orange flight suits.”

Chewie grunted a question.

“Yeah, I’ll comm Leia and tell her to go ahead and have something made up.” He closed his eyes again.

Chewie said something about Lando.

“Only if he really annoys me.”

Rex let out a breath and shifted his leg. “I’m starting to feel sorry for Cody. Not that my General was that great a patient, either, but he tried harder. Wanted to set a good example for his padawan.”

“Hmmm. Luke’s not your General.” Ahsoka spread the blanket Chewie had provided over him. Hunh. Rex rated angora-weeble wool. “He’s got people looking out for him.”

Luke smiled. “I do. Hey Rex, you wanna play a round of sabacc?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting some rest?”

Eyes still closed, Luke held up his right hand. It was shaking. “Nerves are still hotwired. Need to calm down a bit and I’m not allowed to meditate.”

“Why not?” Rex shifted a bit so he could put a hand on Luke’s shoulder. Ahsoka understood. Even after the adrenaline crash, she was often so jittery after a mission that she couldn’t just settle down. She often did something physical, forcing her tired body through moving meditation or just a few calisthetics, or she talked. Ahsoka sat down cross-legged besides them. She was interested in the answer.

Luke breathed out through his nostrils. “Han’s just being paranoid.”

“But you were meditating when we came out of hyperspace?” Who had taught him meditation, and why? There were various religions and sects that practised some form of meditation. Some of them had attracted low-level Force users, others had simply given the Force-blind some measure of inner peace and balance.

“Yeah, I was.”

“What kind?”

Luke opened his eyes. “There are different kinds? I just still my mind and open myself to the Force.” He frowned. “It was a little weird, though. I’ve meditated in hyperspace before, so I don’t think that’s what it was. Then again,” he tilted his head back to look at Rex, “who knows? I get all sorts of different things when I meditate. This time, it felt like being in krayt dragon tunnels. I could feel them stretching out around me. One of them was – pulsing, I guess, with a sort of light. I followed it to see where it would lead. There were cave mouths, all of them leading out into the darkness or the midday sun. But one of them lead into the evening, just after sunset, the last glow of the two suns still on the horizon. I went out and the world tilted and we were out of hyperspace.”

Ahsoka stared. She could vaguely remember a lecture from – was it Master Iduul? She couldn’t remember – about Jedi mapping and navigating hyperlanes during the High Republic. She knew there were one or two knights who could choose the best hyperspace paths by instinct and speed up travel somehow. But change a ship’s path while it was still in hyperspace? It sounded like a creche story, told to impress upon the younglings the wonders of the Force. Who was he?

Rex snorted. “Jetii dikkut. Nuts, all of you.”

Luke laughed. “Yeah.”

“So, are we playing sabacc or aren’t we?”

Chapter Text

Ahsoka stared once more at the bright blue file name, steeled herself, and selected it. She had passed on Sabacc, though Han had sauntered in with a well-used deck. She could hear them through the door and hoped that they weren’t actually betting anything substantial. From what she knew of smugglers, she might suddenly find herself on a ship belonging to someone else and if her luck really ran out it would be Rex.

But if she ever wanted to understand this crew, if she ever wanted to put Him in the past, she needed to finally read this.

He had been dominating her thoughts and actions for far too long. From the time she had first felt the familiarity in the Sith's cold presence and had the first inkling of suspicion that the dark, impersonal mask hid someone who had abandoned everything he had once stood for, to the shockwave through the Force when he died. Even now, months later, He filled her thoughts with a void of grief and suspicion that was threatening to send her places from which she might never return.

She started reading. The plan, the attack, the agonising wait for the station's shield to come down, the last-minute success of the ground troops led by General Solo and Princess Leia, the desperate run through the station's skeleton to the power core.

The deaths of Emperor Palpatine and Darth Vader aboard the station have been confirmed by eyewitness account.

Ahsoka slammed down her datapad. This told her nothing! It was –

Actually, it was rather telling. They could not have died when the station exploded or there could not have been an “eyewitness account” as the eyewitness account would have been blown to tiny, eye-sized pieces along with them. At most, an “eyewitness account” may, by some odd serendipity, have confirmed the presence of the Emperor and Vader “aboard the station” shortly before it exploded – a flyby of some observation window, perhaps, or an intercepted transmission to the troops on the ground. Or if their bodies had been found in some form or other – or some percentage of their bodies, most likely. No. Their deaths “aboard the station” had been witnessed by a person who remained alive long enough to pass on what he had witnessed.

Luke had scars from an “electrical discharge” of the sort she had only ever seen Sith use. An attack vicious enough that he still felt the effects.

Luke had been “in orbit” during Endor – not “in space”, not “participating in the main attack”, in orbit. Endor was already a moon, one without a moon-moon, and the only thing orbiting it had been the Death Star.

Luke had stolen the Emperor’s shuttle.

Luke had been there.

He had to have been, it was the only explanation that made sense. He knew. He knew how her old master had died. At the hands of his own master, most likely, but a tiny little part of Ahsoka hoped he had finally seen what his master really was, had finally decided to take destiny into his own hands, had finally cut down that malice-ridden carcass.

There was only one way to find out.

But first, she searched for the debriefing of the Executor mission, trying to see if it would help her find some of Luke’s code names. The mission was as she remembered it – Imperial infiltration in hopes of liberating Alliance sympathisers. The agent in question had passed Imperial Academy entrance exams during convalescence (the extent of the injuries in question were not detailed); they had been on Ryloth for another mission (no link) at the same time the Montross Academy had offered long-distance tests for their recruits in mentorships programs and had taken advantage of that. They had originally been bypassed for use in the infiltration mission for security reasons (not detailed) but had somehow gotten in. A side note mentioned bringing in their astromech for re-programming and a memory wipe. Ahsoka laughed. She missed Artooey. She wondered if he had survived Alderaan.

The mission was, originally, for another ship, but the agent had caught the eye of Admiral Piett, who had been looking for an aide after his promotion. Admiral Piett had been impressed with their test scores and thought that a pilot might be more amenable to Lord Vader than a bureaucrat. Interesting. Admiral Piett certainly seemed to understand his superior.

There followed a rather frantic-sounding list of actions taken to ensure the unexpected deep screening did not raise any red flags. Oh. She had actually been involved in that – the Princess had asked her to upload certain files to the Montross Academy central database. It hadn’t been easy. She still had a scar from that library droid. With the agent passing the first thorough screening, they had been accepted as a provisional aide until certain in-depth background checks had passed. Agent had been instructed to stay the course, despite it deviating from the original mission objective, and gather any intel on the Executor they could access despite their provisional status and get out before the results of the in-depth background check came back and/or if a second DNA analysis was conducted aboard Executor. Interesting, that last caveat.

A data retrieval base had been set up on Tatooine to receive “letters home” written by the agent and containing coded information. Agent stayed at their post for six weeks and bailed out when Lord Vader came aboard. This course of action was commended but a severe reprimand issued for the means of escape. A note was attached, written in capital letters, which was IntOps’s version of screaming:

ALL OPERATIVES ENCOURAGED TO CHOOSE ESCAPE METHODS NOT DESIGNED TO FURTHER ANTAGONISE KEY IMPERIAL OFFICERS. BOUNTY RAISED BY 1 MILLION CREDITS IN CONSEQUENCE TO THESE ACTIONS.

Nowhere was the name of the agent, or even the alias “Owen Whitesun”, mentioned anywhere in the report.

Ahsoka let out a breath. She remembered reading that note and wondering what exactly the operative had done to annoy Int-Ops. Stealing Darth Vader’s personal fighter would definitely put him there. It made her wonder just how many all-caps directives she and her master had prompted from the Council back during the Clone Wars.

But bounty raised by one million? That explained a lot. Why Luke was not originally chosen for the mission despite already having a file with the Academy (bounty raised). Why his name was not mentioned anywhere. If he was near the top ten of the Imperial bounty lists, it was a miracle he was allowed outside without a minder.  She knew Mon Mothma never went anywhere alone and Leia Organa was not allowed on any solo missions ever. No, not even then.

So. Imperial bounty lists. She had several archived, as well as her files on rumoured bounties. You had to be a member of the Bounty Hunter’s Guild to have access to the higher-level Imperial bounties; most Alliance infiltrators hadn’t survived very long. But you sometimes got tips if you dressed up as a bounty hunter and groused to others over a drink. And stole their trackers. Sometimes they gossiped about the bounties they would like to follow but didn’t have the resources for. So unless his was a local bounty that went viral, she would have better luck with her own files. She typed in a few descriptive adjectives she might expect a bounty on Luke to have and waited for the search results to come up.

The ship shuddered as she came out of hyperspace. All in all, Ahsoka thought it was a minor miracle the thing actually flew. She had thought at first the Millennium Falcon’s rundown appearance was a deliberate ruse, meant to make her appear harmless. But she was starting to wonder if all the engine modifications were worth the constant tinkering and maintenance they required. Solo certainly seemed to think so, but she knew better than to trust a ship jockey about his ship. They were all fanatics. She just hoped the Falcon held together long enough to get them all off Deil Kerran.

Hardly had the world settled into normal space than someone knocked on her door. She angled her reader away from the door and found Han draped across the entrance, his lopsided smirk on his face. “You got a call, sweetheart.”

The call was set up on a tiny holoprojector in the cockpit. Chewie vacated the copilot’s seat and left her face-to-face with a very blurry version of General Madine, an older man with a salt-and-pepper beard. Ahsoka frowned. She had answered to Bail Organa and Sato and later to Leia Organa and Mon Mothma. She’d had very little to do with Madine.

“Fulcrum,” he greeted her with a nod. “Do you have time for a mission briefing?”

She shook her head. “Not really. We’re running a little behind as it is. But just so you know – we’ve dismantled a listening post near the Dragos Cluster and Commander Rex is with us. General – this mission is vital for Sunstreak.” Sunstreak was the ops code for the recapture of Coruscant.

“You dismantled a what?” He ran a palm over his face and grunted. “I take it Rogue Leader came with you?”

She nodded. Funny. If that was Luke’s usual code name, it certainly wasn’t used in reports.

“Did he tell you why he filed the mission Starkiller?”

“No,” Ahsoka answered. “I’m not sure what parameters define STARKILLER. But there was no-one to authorise Fulcrum and time is of the essence.” She hoped he would take the hint.

He grunted. “The day someone figures out what the parameters for STARKILLER are, I’ll have a few grey hairs less in my beard.” He stared at her for a moment and she was about to say good-bye and end the call when he spoke again. “What exactly happened? The listening post search was covered.”

“Well, yes, but we had, um, engine trouble and were wrenched out of hyperspace. The nearest place to set down for repairs was this old smuggler base on a rogue planet. When we got there, we found it previously occupied.”

“How much of it went boom?”

“Well… the main command centre, the transmitter dish and most of the landing bay. Actually, Commander Rex had found it before us but experienced some technical difficulties. We rescued him. Look, I would rather have kept it running so we could arrange for some misinformation or run a proper retrieve-and-destroy op, but they had already seen us land. We thought it better to shut them down than have them evacuate Force knows where.”

Madine sighed. “Quite right. You just happened to come out of hyperspace where there was an Imperial listening post we’ve spent weeks searching for, just in time to rescue one of ours. I really, really hate this, this –“

Ahsoka smiled her understanding. “Rex calls it Force osik.”

“Sounds about right.” He sighed and scratched his beard. “Tell me, what do you think of them?”

Ahsoka paused. On the panel to her left, the navigation computer lit up like Coruscant on Life Day. The next set of calculations were in. “They seem competent. Rogue Leader is an – unusual young man.”

“Big pain in my ass, is what he is.” Ahsoka blinked. Surely having a Force-sensitive in the Rebellion was a good thing? “Sol- Raptor 2 is a loose cannon, but once you realise you can’t dictate more than the broad strokes of a mission he’s dependable. Rogue Leader – he’s always been a bit of a maverick. Even before that fiasco on Bespin he’d often arrive late, or turn up in the middle of someone else’s mission, or bring back dubious artefacts no-one knew what to do with. But in the last year… Well, he’s changed.”

“Are you saying he might be compromised?” Ahsoka stretched her senses out, but thank the Force no-one was near the cockpit. This was not something you usually discussed over an open comm in the middle of a mission. Undependable was not something she would have associated with Luke, but if he was half as Force-sensitive as he seemed, she could see how events might pull him in. But this was the Rebel Alliance. Operatives getting lost running from an Imp engagement and needing a few weeks to find their way home was fairly normal.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking you. Look, just keep an ear out for anything. He won’t tell anyone what happened on Bespin, or where he was before that, and who knows what he was doing on the Death Star…“

“General Madine.” The new voice could have made popsicles out of blue milk. “How dare you! How dare you stand there and suggest that Luke could possibly…” A new figure came into view, a smaller human female in a white jumpsuit, with dark brown hair put up in a nest of braids. She poked Madine in the chest with a finger and Ahsoka felt a pang as she thought of her father’s kindness and support.

“Princess,” Ahsoka acknowledged. “I don’t mean to be rude, but our next set of hyperspace coordinates are in. We need to go. I’ll… take your warning under advisement, General.”

Leia pressed her lips together. “You will do no such thing. General Madine is out of line.”

“Leia, drop it.” Ahoska jumped as Luke seemed to step out of the Force beside her. How? Luke nodded to Madine and spoke to Bail Organa’s daughter in a voice so familiar, it was clear they knew each other well. “Aren’t you supposed to be visiting the Arcali Confederation?”

Leia breathed through her nose. “Something came up. If what Petal says is true, I might need you.”

“A few days here, I guess, depending on how well it goes. I have a good feeling about it.” Leia gave a terse nod. “Wanna talk to Han?”

“Luke –“

He held up a hand. “Command’s been wary of me for awhile. I can understand it. We can talk after the mission’s over?”

“You can understand it?” she spat out. “After everything you’ve done…”

“Leia. We need to jump. Don’t take it out on Madine. Oh, and I left you that thing you were looking for with Threepio.”

“What thing? I wasn’t looking for anything. I can’t believe -”

Luke smiled and nodded at Madine. “General. We’ll send a preliminary report once we’re at our destination.”

Madine huffed. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Luke cut the connection and stepped aside to let Han and Chewie into the cockpit. As he slipped into the pilot’s seat, Han asked nonchalantly, “What’s got Her Holiness’ knickers in a knot this time?”

Luke shrugged. “Madine doesn’t trust me.”

“Pity. I liked Madine. Thinks she’ll leave pieces big enough to identify the corpse?”

Chewie opined that Han only liked Madine because he made Han a general. Han snorted. “Like I care. I only agreed so I could outrank the kid here.” He jerked his thumb at Luke and made the last adjustments on his console. Ahsoka had to keep her hands balled into fists to keep herself from wrenching the controls away from him. His preflight checklist was a mess and his engine adjustments made the tips of her montrals tingle. Instead, she sat down in one of the passenger seats next to Luke and considered to whom she could possibly entrust her last will and testament. Her last one had been stored in Bail’s databanks on Alderaan.

She looked over at Luke. “You’re often late for missions?”

Luke ducked his head sheepishly and shrugged. Chewie let out a barking laugh. For Luke, this mission was amazingly on target.

“Not my fault,” Luke murmured. He sighed and tipped his head back to look at her. “Madine doesn’t understand the Force. It makes him twitchy when I put things like ‘I had a feeling this would lead somewhere’ or ‘the ghost of my dead master told me to do it’ in mission reports.”

Han punched in the last adjustments and the hyperspace engines roared and shuddered around them, this time without fuss but with chest-compressing acceleration. The ghost of his dead master? It might be a joke, but it was also the best opening she could hope for. “So does this ghost have a name?”

Luke’s smile was rather guarded. “I call him Ben.”

Ahsoka frowned at him. “Never heard of him. What sect did he belong to? Is he the one who taught you levitation? Meditation?” Ahsoka had decided that the type of control Luke had shown must mean training. Calling blasters to his hand? Keeping up with her during a fight? She could just about believe he had taught himself that. Throwing a shuttle like a discus and making his own little miniature solar system out of shrapnel? That she found hard to believe.

Luke looked at her a moment, then said, “No.” The Force wept as he got up and left. Ahsoka fought to battle down her own grief, the grief of a lost world, a world she had left behind in the simple, naïve assumption it would always be there.

Han stretched his legs out before himself and crossed his arms behind his head. “Ben died just before Yavin. Luke taught himself levitation. For about two months you couldn’t get Rogue Squadron to eat in the mess with him for fear of flying noodles. Dunno who taught him meditation. Was a time the kid couldn’t sit still through a briefing. Now you forget he’s there half the time.”

Ahsoka caught the wistfulness in Han’s voice. Then she remembered the search still popping results on her datapad, and Madine’s words and decided she might as well get some answers now. “So what was Luke doing on the Death Star?”

But Han just glowered at her, his presence turning sour. “Turned himself in, the idiot. Said he was endangering the mission.”

“The ground assault?” Solo had been point on that.

“Yeah. It’s Force stuff. Said Vader could sense him.”

Half the time, Ahsoka couldn’t tell him apart from the rest of the Force. But maybe – a lot can happen in six months. A young man with the Force presence of a thousand suns could learn to shield, or quiet himself in the Force in some way. Six months ago, with that potential, he would have been a beacon for any sensitives within the same solar system.

“What happened?”

Han got up. “Vader and the Emperor are dead. That’s what happened.” He turned away. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna see how those new power couplings Lando installed are holding up.”

Ahsoka turned to Chewbacca, who shrugged. Luke had told them some of what happened, but only Leia – she thought it was Leia, translating names into Shriiwook was tricky – knew exactly how they died, though Luke had only stopped insisting he hadn’t killed them about two weeks ago in the face of political pressure.

“Political pressure?”

Apparently, Mothma, Ackbar (?) and probably-Leia had locked themselves in a room with him and presented him with a series of answers to common questions and could he please stick with the script.

Ahsoka snorted. This was why she had insisted on Intelligence work, where she by definition could not be made into a figurehead. “Do you know what the state of his bounty is?”

Chewie barked a laugh. No bounty hunter who valued their skin went near it.

Ahsoka took a few centering breaths. Talking with Luke was like talking with Master Kenobi – questions answered with questions, half-truths and that maddening calmness, like a bottomless lake. How was she supposed to trust him if he wouldn’t talk? And the rest were just as cryptic.

She patted Chewie on the arm and left the cockpit, taking a moment to check in on Rex, who was pumped full of painkillers and snoring. She could just see Han and Luke in the galley, sipping something that smelled rich and sweet and hot.

“So… that Togruta. She’s something, hunh?”

 “Han,” Luke answered in a mild tone that held just a smidgeon of threat, “do I have to call my sister?”

“What?” Han threw out his arms. “No! I meant you.”

Luke looked up from his contemplation of his cup. “Me what?”

“Well, don’t you think she’s nice-lookin’?”

“I think she’s beautiful.”

Ahsoka stopped just within earshot. Luke thought she was beautiful? Well, he was rather attractive, for a human. Trim. Muscular. The hair was nice. It didn’t… She never quite knew, with hair. It could change so much. Lekku changed as a togruta grew, of course, as did montrals, but nothing like human hair. It was just – weird, how much it could change their appearance. But his was nice. And he had some of the bluest eyes she had ever seen.

But to be honest, even if he was sweet on her… She’d have no idea what to do with it. She’d had a crush or two at the Temple, of course. Everybody did. But… She wasn’t used to thinking about people on those terms. She would have to disabuse him of that notion, and quick.

Luke took a sip from his cup. “But what does that have to do with anything?”

Han stopped short. “Whaddaya mean what does… Look, kid, you are interested in…er… y’know, people? I mean, I’m pretty sure you were sweet on Leia before… And she’s mentioned a pilot somebody.”

“Interested?” Luke shook his head. “Han, I don’t know. My life is not going to be settled anytime soon. There isn’t all that much room in it for… people.”

“So what is it with her and you?”

“Nothing. Just…” Ahsoka heard him sigh. “She’s Force-sensitive, Han.”

There was silence, then the sound of a chair scraping on the deck. “Oh, is that what it takes with you?”

“Han, wait. Wait. Think, for once. I just told you, there isn’t much room in my life for – that. But Han… I think she’s more than just a sensitive.”

Another scrape, a thump. Han had sat down again. “How do you figure that?”

“She knows about Force-lightning. That’s… really advanced, I think. Her sense in the Force goes wild whenever she touches me. She’s impressed at my control – which is a nice change, by the way – but not awed, like someone with little experience with other Force-sensitives. And… I’m pretty sure she carries two kyber crystals of just the right size.”

There was a creak as Han shifted in his chair. “So what are you saying? What does that mean?”

Ahsoka closed her eyes, her heart constricting. Don’t say it, she begged Luke silently. Don’t.

“Jedi.”

There, it was out. That word. That word that meant so much and so little, that hurt and comforted her in kind. She steeled herself, turned around. No sense in drawing this out.

She strode over to them. “You should be careful of bandying that word around.”

Luke looked up at her. “I don’t bandy.” He gestured to a chair. “Want some hot chocolate?”

“Who taught you?”

“What do you know about Force lightning?”

Ahsoka stopped short. Of all the things he could ask her… “I know it’s a Sith power.”

Luke frowned. “Is it?” He looked down at his left hand, the one not holding a mug. He carefully opened his palm. Ahsoka’s breath caught. There, dancing along his fingers, was… lightning. He turned his hand this way and that, observing it as though mesmerized by the play of the bolts over his bare skin. Ahsoka stood transfixed. Han looked… scared. But the emotion seeping out from him was pure fury.

Luke sighed and closed his fist. The lightning disappeared. “It took me three months to figure out how he did it. Now you tell me – was this the Dark Side?”

Ahsoka was rooted to the spot. Was it? It… hadn’t felt anything like being in the presence of Count Dooku or even… Him. It had felt – well, like any other manipulation of the Force, a channelling of energy. “No,” she answered cautiously.

Now he looked up at her, cerulean eyes boring into her. “What do you know of the Sith?”

She steeled herself. Why would he want to learn something that had caused him that much damage? Why bother learning a Sith power? “Who taught you?” She asked again.

Luke chuckled, veiling his eyes again. “I told you. Ben.” He glanced over at Han and took in the stiffness of his shoulders, the way he leaned away from them both. “It’s okay, Han.”

Han gave a weak chuckle. “Sure it is, kid. I’m not sure that means the same thing for you as it does for other people.” He relaxed a bit, though Ahsoka noticed he kept one hand near his hip, the one where his blaster hung. “I thought you trusted her.”

Luke sighed and leaned back into his chair. “I do. But I trusted a lot of other people and they withheld things from me. Important things. I’m trying to learn caution.”

Han laughed. “That’ll be the day.” He got up. “I’m gonna go check on – whatsisname. Rex. Make sure he didn’t spew all over my deck or anything.” He looked from one to the other and pointed his finger at them. “Play nice. I want my ship in one piece when we emerge from hyperspace.”

“That would be quite a feat.” It slipped out, riding on the waves of camaderie that had buffeted her during this mission.

He took a step toward her, finger raised. Then he caught Luke’s eye, gulped, turned on his heels and left.

Ahsoka sat down opposite Luke and watched him as he prepared a cup of something hot for her. She sipped it carefully and was pleasantly surprised. It was rich and sweet.

“Who withheld what from you?” she finally asked. She didn’t know how to have this conversation. With Dume, it had been easy enough, once he took up the saber again. They hadn’t known each other well, but they had the same frame of reference. The Temple. The Clone Wars. Order 66. Luke was too young to have been a Jedi. Too young to have been even a Padawan, unless… A youngling, perhaps?

He took off his glove and stared at the hand underneath. At first glance, it was like any other hand, but as he flexed his fingers she realised she was watching the play of synthskin over wiring and metal. A hand he had lost in a family argument. “Important things,” he whispered.

Ahsoka opened her mouth, but closed it again when she saw his face. She knew that look. Right now, there was no point in talking. He was in whatever private hell war had made for him. So she sipped her – hot chocolate, was it? – and held her peace. When his shoulders relaxed and he slipped the glove back onto his hand, she switched tracks. “How old are you?”

He seemed surprised at the question. Good. Off-balance, he might finally give her some of the information she needed to puzzle him out.

“I’m twenty-two.”

No. That brought her nothing. He must have been born –

“Two days after the founding of the Empire,” Luke added helpfully. “We think.”

“You think?”

He shrugged. “My aunt and uncle used the day I was brought to them, but my sister’s pretty sure her adoptive parents used her actual birthday, so we go with that. There’s no-one left to ask.”

Ahsoka shook her head. “You don’t make any sense.”

“Okay.” He put his elbows on the table and grinned up at her. “Isn’t that part of the Jedi mystique?”

Ahsoka snorted, thinking of all the stupid, impossible situations they had landed in. “Mystique. Right.” She cradled her hot chocolate and sighed. “Look-“

But the Force suddenly radiated determination like a particularly stubborn supernova. Luke leaned forward. “Will you teach me?”

“Wait, what?” This conversation was not going the way she imagined. Every time she thought they were settling into some sort of rhythm, some idea of where they stood, Luke turned the conversation onto another path.

“Will you teach me?”

Ahsoka looked him in the eyes. “I am not a Jedi. I never was.”

“So where did you get your lightsabers?”

She reached back to the pouch at her belt. “How did you-?”

“Your kybers sing.” He kept his gaze on her and Force, those eyes were blue. He had Anakin’s energy and Obi-Wan’s deep sense in the Force and he couldn’t possibly have been a padawan or even a youngling. The only explanation was that someone had found him and trained him, like Dume had young Ezra. But Ezra, as wonderful as he was, had not make her as homesick as this young man. The sense of him… Ezra could never have levitated so many objects in so many different directions without even breaking a sweat. But the bigger question was: who?

Luke broke into her thoughts. “Where did you get them?”

She brought out her sabers, running her fingers along their grooves and surfaces. Thought of the call of two tortured crystals in a spinning blade, of a moon sucked dry and a young girl’s infatuation. “You have to earn your kyber, in one of the Jedi temples,” she told Luke finally.

“Ah.” The Force drooped with his disappointment. Was she imagining things, or was it petting him like a disappointed tooka pup? She must be imagining things.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and went on. “Most of those with kyber deposits were mined and destroyed by the Empire.”

“I saw Jedha. I - It was a nice dream, then, I guess. So… Will you teach me?”

Ahsoka shook her head. “I left the Order when I was only a padawan. I can’t teach you.” Caleb taught Ezra, a little voice whispered. He was younger than you when the Purge came.

Caleb never left the Order, she retorted. She hated that voice, sometimes.

“What’s a padawan?”

This brought Ahoska up short. He didn’t even know what a padawan was? But in the question, Ahsoka saw an opportunity. “It’s an apprentice to a single Jedi, not like the younglings who were all taught at the temple. What did your master call you?”

“Apprentice,” he answered. Ahsoka’s heart contracted. Sith called their learners that. Then he made a wry face. “Or ‘the boy’.”

“Not ‘boy’? ‘The boy’?” Her hand strayed to her pouch, fingering the little pyramid that burned a hole in it. His Master didn’t seem very nice. She thought of her own Master, who had taken a rocky start and turned it into affection. Snips. She missed being called Snips. The hulking black monstrosity she had faced hadn’t seemed capable of calling anyone Snips.

“Oh, yes.” Luke’s voice brought her back to the present. “The boy, too impatient he is. Always looking outwards, the boy is, never within. I cannot teach the boy. Too stubborn. Too set in his ways.”

Ahsoka stilled in shock. He had delivered the lines in a pitch-perfect imitation of Master Yoda’s voice. She worked some spit back into her mouth. “It’s generally the Sith who call their learners apprentices.”

Luke shrugged. “He wasn’t a Sith.”

Ahsoka snorted. He certainly wasn’t Master Yoda, no matter what Luke wanted her to think. She remembered training with him as a youngling. His patience. His odd little quips. The way he pounded his walking stick in time with his speech to give emphasis to his words. Whoever Luke’s Master had been, though, he had known Yoda. She put her hand to her forward pouch, took out the little pyramid inside. “Then why do you have a miniature Sith Holocron?”

“More to the point, why do you have my miniature Sith holocron?” Luke used the Force to lift it from her hand. “I found it in an Antique shop on Dakkith. It’s an herbal.”

“A what?” It hung in midair, rotating above the table, creating sharp, bloodred shadows along the operational panels, the gaming table, Luke’s earnest face.

“It’s about plants. It’s really interesting, though I’m not quite sure what it’s doing in a Holocron. I did catch some references to aids in meditation, but I haven’t translated those parts yet.”

“But how did you open it?” Sith Holocrons require some connection to the Dark Side to open.

“Oh. I see.” He smiled. “Wait a sec.” He got up and went to the drinks nook. He came back with a steaming mug of tea, something spicy that reminded her horribly, poignantly of Master Kenobi. He sat down with it and grinned like a schoolboy, suddenly looking about fourteen and off to catch an illegal podrace. “Watch.”

He drifted the Holocron over the cup. The steam curled and twisted around the black metal, dancing along the openwork scrolling, complementing it, then slipping in through the cracks as the pyramid split and re-arranged itself. The little figure appeared above and, in its nasal voice, started expounding about camomile.

“You… have to give it tea.” Ahsoka crossed her arms. “This is probably the most un-sithlike thing I have ever encountered.”

Luke grinned. “It doesn’t have to be tea. Han got it open once with a Corellian herbal schnaps.” He sighed and waved it away from the cup. It shut down again and he drifted it to his gloved hand and pocketed it. “I wish I knew how old it was. The Alliance is a bit low on archaeologists specialising in Sith artefacts, and Aphra’s not returning my calls. I told her I’d pay for those droids. Well, some of them. The non-lethal ones, at least.”

Ahsoka leaned back. “Meaning?”

“I don’t know.” Luke shrugged. “I’ve come across several Sith Holocrons lately – we think someone’s been selling off the Emperor’s collection. Two of them need you to get angry at them, but one of them opens up with happiness. Which makes me wonder about their relative ages and whether being Sith always meant the Dark Side.”

“Sith Holocrons,” Ahsoka almost shouted, jumping up and knocking over her chair, echoes of a dark temple and the click of Maul’s cybernetic legs ringing in her ears, “open when you use the Dark Side!”

Luke tilted his head and looked up at her through his lashes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Like really evil herbs?”

She slumped down and shook her head. “You make no sense.”

“You already said that. So will you teach me?”

I cannot teach the boy. Too stubborn. Too set in his ways. “You know, my Master called me ‘Snips’.” She quelled the wave of grief that came with the name.

Luke put a hand on her arm, compassion in his eyes. “What did he do to you?”

Everything.

Ahsoka gently pushed his hand away. “I told you, I’m not a Jedi.” She thought of what she had just left behind, the hollow look on Sabine’s face. “And I’m not that good a teacher, either.” She crossed her arms, hugging herself for comfort.

“How old were you when you left?”

Ahsoka almost growled in frustration. Once again, the conversation escaped her. She was an intelligence agent! She should have better control of it. “Seventeen,” she answered finally, curious despite herself as to where this was going.

“How old when you joined the Order?”

“Three.”

Luke jerked back as though stung. “Three? Well, that explains a lot.” He sighed. “So, you trained to be a Jedi for fourteen years.”

“Roughly, I suppose. I mean, you don’t really start on the complicated stuff until –“

“Thirty-three days.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Thirty-three days. That’s the total amount of training I’ve had, including what old Ben taught me. My last master died about six months ago. So I think you will find there is a lot you can still teach me.”

Ahsoka stared at him. There was no way he could learn that kind of control in a little over a month. It took weeks for younglings to learn simple levitation. Most padawans still hadn’t mastered the kind of control it took to move several things at once. And he was telling her he had managed that in a little over a year, most of it on his own? But if he hadn’t learned with a Jedi… No way he would have learned with Master Yoda, that was impossible, surely Yoda hadn’t survived the attack on the Emperor, surely… Though Ezra had mentioned seeing him in visions, it didn’t mean he was alive. The Force moved in mysterious ways and after what she had seen of that odd world-between-worlds, she could and would believe that dead Jedi could speak to anyone they wanted to.

She decided he wasn’t the only one who could change the conversation on her. “Why would you learn a Sith technique?”

He looked down and called up the lightning again. “To know how to counter it. Once you know how the flow of energy works, you can contain it, redirect it –“ He formed it into a ball between his hands, then channelled it into a power converter lying exposed in the wall, its panel long gone. The Millenium Falcon shuddered slightly at the extra energy input and adjusted its consumption to match.

Ahsoka stared at him, still not sure about this. But this gave her the perfect opening. “Must be practical for charging your blasters. Master Yoda could do that. At least, that’s what my –“ She bit off the rest, cursing inwardly.

Luke jumped up and his emotions, until now so contained she could barely get a grip on what he was feeling, suddenly roiled out of him. Anger, despair, betrayal. Ahsoka gagged. It was so overwhelming, so much like Him… She carefully reached towards her sabers on the table.

Then Luke closed his eyes and breathed deeply, and one by one the red, snapping tendrils of his emotions curled back and faded. “Funny, that. You’d think he would have mentioned it. To me. The person who was expected to go up against a Sith.” He sat down again and buried his face in his hands. “Why make an imperfect weapon? Why build it with flaws?”

“You lost me again.” Was he talking about the Death Star?

“Never mind. But will you teach me?”

“That depends.” No. Not after – that had been a disaster. “Where do you know Master Yoda from?”

“I… He… I get some of it. The physical training. Learning to feel the Force. But why not… He knew he was sick. He kept that – let me go off to rescue Han and Leia without telling me that. Never mind the rest. Just… A few specialised techniques. He knew who I’d be up against. Why not that?” He turned from her, still struggling to breathe. A few whispers of emotion escaped, roiling red and reined in as soon as they emerged.

Ahsoka stared in fascination, unable to move, unable to look away. The sheer power. The sheer will, to subdue it, to control it.

“Ben… I guess he spent most of his time just – I’m a moisture farmer. I’m used to – you put a vaporator somewhere suitable, the moisture is captured, water comes out. This part does that, this other does this and if the harvest is bad, you don’t eat much besides quental and black melon. The Force – it’s so mystical. I love it, but at first, it didn’t make much sense. He saw it as something living and I saw it as some sort of tool and Ben had to do a lot of translating. He’s lived on Tatooine for a long time, he understood that part. But, he couldn’t materialise for very long, even on Dagobah, and the more I learn the more I realise I know nothing… And there’s just me. Me, and maybe you, now. And I guess I’d hoped…”

He turned back to her and the look in his eyes was agonising. Hope. What Hera had hoped and Sabine had hoped and now there was this little tiny, squalling creature in the Force with all of Dume’s intensity and his mother’s lust for life, a hope for the future she could never fulfil. Because in their hope, all she saw was Barriss, who was all of the Jedi virtues, destroying their home out of a frustration that had built up like a pressure valved rusted shut by dashed hopes, and she saw a black mask and yellow eyes where all hope had been burned into a deep primeval rage.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Maybe.” She winced internally. This couldn’t end well. “Maybe if you have questions…”

He nodded. “I’m sorry.” He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. “I need to… I’m sorry.”

She nodded as he stalked away to his bunk. She was sorry, too. Sorry she couldn’t be the Master he needed. A third Master, to continue the work of whoever had looked at a farm boy on Tatooine and seen what depths of the Force he contained. Somewhere, her great-grandmaster Jinn was chuckling at the irony of it.

A Jedi on Tatooine. Of all the places…

Wait. She needed to get back to her notes, now.

Chapter Text

She swept away the search results for bounties for now and clicked through to her notes on... There. When she had come – back? From her perspective, she hadn't been anywhere – when she had come to this time, she had been worried about Ezra. Maul was – Maul was obviously insane, but also somehow strangely charismatic. Mesmerizing. Ezra had been pulled into that antithetical mix of childish vulnerability and cunning artifice and that could not have been good.

She had asked Hera about it, of course, and what Hera told her had not been very reassuring. However, she said Dume had not seemed to think Ezra had fallen to the Dark, and certainly his actions over Lothal had not been that of a megalomaniacal power-seeker.

But it stank of the sort of thing He – no, this had to stop. Always call things what they are. (Run away from your problems, you should not. Very fast legs, they have, hmm?) The sort of thing Anakin would do to protect those he loved.

She had brought Maul up to Sabine a few times, because – well, for several reasons. The Emperor and even Vader had been far-off, quasi-mystical figures, whereas Maul was a shining example the dangers of the Dark Side that Sabine could relate to. From his actions on Mandalore to those in the Sith Temple, it all struck home. And Sabine was closer to Ezra in age. They had confided in each other. He had told her things he couldn't confide to his Master, or his mother-figure, or his gruff big brother/uncle/whatever Zeb decided he was that day.

She flicked through the notes, remembering. Sabine's discomfort had radiated in the Force, echoes of the worry that had plagued her. Teasing it out of her had been agonizingly hard, each tidbit drawn out like drops from an empty water bulb, as if Sabine were afraid that Ahsoka would cease to look for Ezra if she had truth. And to be honest – Sabine had not been wrong. This was just after the Battle of Endor, where everything was still raw, where it seemed every stone unturned found another Inquisitor, every rumour dripped with the Emperor's dark purpose. Rumours of cloning facilities for armies of darksiders, of the Emperor resurrected, of sightings of Vader... If Ezra had turned Dark? As much as the loss ached, this galaxy had earned a respite from darksiders tearing it apart.

Not that they had found any leads. But the accusations still hung in the air between them, one of many ways their relationship had soured. Because what Sabine did say had been disturbing. They had been linked, somehow, Maul and Ezra. Ezra had thought he had caught a glimpse of something that could bring down the Empire. He had been obsessed with it, while Maul –  Maul had always been obsessed with...

She scrolled further. There. Twin Suns. They had meditated on the holocron together and both of them had seen twin suns.

And then Ezra had gone AWOL from an important mission, because he had been positive he had found...

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Tatooine had twin suns. According to both Hera and Sabine, Ezra had come back adamant that he hadn't found anything. But Hera hadn't been certain he was telling the truth. She hadn't thought he had found Master Kenobi, but she had suspected he had found something.

Sabine said Maul had died there, whichever planet it was. That Ezra had seen it, had been so, so certain, but had refused to explain how, or where. Ahsoka had wondered if Ezra had somehow killed him, but Sabine hadn't thought so. He'd seemed sad, she had said. Sad, but hopeful somehow.

Ahsoka closed her eyes.

She had gotten the beacon message, of course.

Shaken, grieving, wondering why she had been targeted, who had done this to her men, to Rex, her comm had chimed and her grandmaster, in his cultured, even voice, had warned all Jedi away from Coruscant. A final blow, somehow better and worse at once, to know it wasn't just her, she wasn't alone, and yet now she was, because her family had all been killed or would go into hiding. She had left the Temple behind, but as hard as the decision had been, it had been easier knowing it was still there. To come back to. If ever she needed to.

Home.

                It was the last time she had ever heard Obi-Wan's voice. It was the last time she heard any Jedi's voice, until Dume.

She drew a breath. She knew Obi-Wan had gone after Grievous, to Utapau. He must have survived it, to record that message. Or had he? He hadn't been a technical genius like Anakin, but he was perfectly capable of slicing simple systems. Had he sent it to the beacon from Utapau, a furtive act  as he evaded his pursuers? Had he been cut down by his own dear Commander Cody after one last, selfless act? He had looked so cool, composed, the perfect Jedi uttering the words that disbanded the Order and ended thousands of years of service to the Galaxy. But that meant nothing. Master Kenobi kept his cool in enemy hands, sipping tea and complaining about the lack of biscuits, quipping – ugh, no, flirting – with Ventress as he stalled for their escape, even dying in her arms with grace. The 212^th might have been breaking down the door as he spoke those fateful words, and no-one would be the wiser.

Could Ezra have been right? Could he have? Could he have escaped and gone to Tatooine, of all places, and latched on to a young, Force-sensitive boy who must have reminded him so much of Anakin that it hurt? Had he known? Had he known what Anakin had become, or had he spent his days grieving the death of a padawan he thought slaughtered by his own men?

Kark. She was crying.

Because if he did survive – had he thought Ahsoka was dead, too? Why hadn't he followed Ezra? And why hadn't he joined the Rebellion? They had needed him. Oh, how they had needed his cunning, his military knowledge, his calm presence, his dry wit. The first two, anyway. Maybe the other two, too.

She was crying. Deep, wrenching sobs. She glanced towards the door, thankful she had thought to close it. Kark, kark, kark. They would arrive at Deil Kerran soon, she needed to get it together. Still hiccuping, wiping the tears on her sleeve, she settled down to meditate.

She came out to sounds in the galley, the rumble of Rex's voice, laughter. She checked the chrono. Only two-and-a-half more hours. She sighed. There was no way to know if “Ben” was Obi-Wan Kenobi except to ask, but first, she needed to look at those bounty lists.

There wasn't a Luke in the top Empire bounties, but among those higher than a million credits was a very interesting young person.

Red Five.

She knew about the bounty, of course, though she had forgotten the actual sum. And it was a doozy. There were bounties for suspected surviving Jedi that still missed the mark by several million. Her own bounty didn't even come close, which was slightly insulting when you thought about it.

It could fit. She checked something – yes, Wedge Antilles had been Red Squadron, and he was Rogue now. She vaguely remembered that the squadron that took down the first Death Star had renamed itself after the brave rebels who had gone after the plans. A few more clicks – yes, it was Red Squadron, and they – oo, ouch. What was left of Red Squadron, which was all of two pilots, had indeed formed Rogue Squadron. Wedge Antilles and... Red Five. Luke had mentioned joining around the Battle of Yavin. If he were Red Five – a pretty amazing feat for a rookie, but then again, her own Master had somehow disabled a droid command ship at nine years old, if you believed the rumours and, considering the face Obi-Wan made whenever they came up, she was inclined to. So, not impossible.

She tried a futile search through the intel reports for mentions of Red Five, but that was it. They must have stopped using the designation after the bounty was issued. If Luke were Red Five, it would explain the absolutely bonkers security around even the mention of his name. She had been hoping to find out his alias to correlate with other missions, but in light of this he probably didn't have one. In anything being sent out over comms where it could be intercepted, he would just be “operative” – exactly like in the Executor mission report.

She checked to see if she had the bounty history for Red Five. She did. It had started very steep,  alive or dead, with the slight suggestion that alive would be preferred. She wondered if – yep, there it was, issued by Darth Vader himself. He would have had his pride piqued by being outflown. But also – conceivably, he might have sensed that Luke was Force-sensitive, want him for the Inquisitors.

Then it was raised twice, without comment.

Then it was raised again – doubled, in fact – with the injunction that Red Five was to be delivered to Darth Vader personally, alive and in good condition. There was a little note indicating that further information on the identity of Red Five would be revealed in person after acceptance of the contract and that no puck could be provided. She checked the dates, but this was before the Executor infiltration, though – yes, it had been raised by yet another million at around the time of the mission. It fit.

No puck could be provided.

Now that was interesting. Closed contracts were not unknown of, but generally not good policy. A lot of bounty hunters liked to go after several contracts at once to improve their odds, and while there was no actual rule saying that you couldn't cash in on a closed contract if you happened to stumble across them while researching another bounty, it wasn't very likely to happen if you didn't have the necessary info. Closed contracts usually meant exclusivity, which was bad business.

The puck, though. Luke had had a clause in his undercover mission saying he should bail if an in-depth DNA analysis were ordered. This meant he either did not have a DNA-locked chain code to begin with – which would not have been unusual in a place like Tatooine – or he was related to someone important. That could mean he was the son of an important politician – unlikely if his accent wasn't fake and he really was born on Tatooine  – or the son of an important fugitive. Like... Obi-Wan? No. Surely not. She knew He – Anakin – used to tease about Duchess Satine, but really. Obi-Wan had been charming and flirty, but somehow the idea of him having children... He was too much the perfect Jedi, and in any case the dates didn't fit. Satine would have been dead already and she would have known if Ventress was pregnant.

She shuddered at the thought, but really, who else was there? Whatever those two had going on was weird as hell. She understood it a little better as an adult, but Ventress had, according to Anakin, cut Obi-Wan off from the Force and put muscle-eating worms in him. That seemed like taking adrenalin-fueled attraction a bit far.

She supposed Luke could be the child of some other Jedi. In fact, some guy named Hipp Atun had thought so, and put it in the Guild notes on the bounty, earning him a reprimand. Ooo, from Boba Fett, with a nice bitingly-worded reminder of the meaning of “closed contract”. She wondered what little Boba was up to these days?

A few clicks revealed his status as “Deceased”. That was... Sad. She remembered that angry little boy, so eager to prove himself – thinking revenge would solve all his problems. She wondered if Rex knew.

So. Unfortunately, Master Yoda had been extremely cryptic about whether Force-sensitivity ran in families. Keep their own council, the midichlorians do. But she did remember one of her teachers saying that the reason there was no evidence Force-sensitivity was genetic was because any research done about it before the Jedi stopped marrying had been lost. So technically, he could be related to a Jedi rather than a politician, but... A few calculations later, it still didn't make sense. He wasn't born after the Purge. He was born just as it started.

Well.

She tilted her head back and considered, sending out tendrils of inquiry into the Force. One thing felt right. Luke must have been Rogue Five. It still raised so many more questions than it answered. Why had the bounty been raised so often? Why was the information on his identity kept so close? What, if anything, did it have to do with Obi-Wan?

She glanced at the chrono again. Unfortunately, she couldn't afford to spend more time on this puzzle; she needed to set up a strategy meeting before they reached Deil Kerran. She somehow doubted this crew would be happy to stay out of the way on the Falcon while she met with her contact. She listened. There had been some shouting for awhile, but that seemed to have subsided, and from what she could tell, everyone was awake, even Rex.

She sighed and got up. She would need to take a shower before they arrived, so she had better do the briefing now.

Chewie and Rex were playing dejarik in the common area, Rex's leg awkwardly raised on the bench. Someone had rigged up one of those little localised bacta tanks, but it was obviously meant for smaller wounds and had been rather creatively expanded to encompass part of his leg. She winced internally as the fresh welds and haphazard wiring, but the bacta bubbling merrily  in the contraption seemed to be of decent quality. Rex looked up when she came in, saw where she was looking, and snorted.

“Organa rides here, this is the good stuff.”

Chewie opined that it was the good stuff because they raided an Imperial hospital last month and Solo wasn't about to let high-grade bacta go to waste.

“Where are Luke and Solo?”

Luke's touseled hair popped up from pilot's seat. “Han's doing mission reports. We should probably release him.”

 “We need to discuss Deil Kerran,” she said.

When everyone was sitting in the common area – more or less, Chewie had turned one of the passenger seats around and Rex was back on the medicot – Ahsoka took a breath and put on her best Strategy Meeting voice.

“The contact I am meeting is high up in cargo logistics for a big shipping firm. And when I say big, I mean the high tonnage haulers that make a Venator look small. We met at a conference about a year ago – I was part of the catering staff –“ Solo snorted and Rex laughed “and I overheard him complaining about Empire tariffs and fixed government prices. I slipped him one of my contact numbers when he wasn't looking, so he doesn't know me. I did that to a few people at that conference; it usually doesn't amount to much except eventually having to ditch the number, but he just contacted me telling me he had a way to get people and matériel onto Coruscant.”

Solo hooked his hands in his belt. “High-tonnage haulers, hunh? Not container ships?”

He was sharp. She nodded at him. “They haul containers, obviously, but not exclusively. Their cargo areas are adaptable, so they can haul heavy machinery without taking it apart, containers of standard and non-standard sizes, art, biological matter, you name it.”

“Biological matter?” Solo drawled, lopsided grin widening.

“You got it. They can compartmentalise the hold and climate-control areas from five cubic meters to the whole hold. And because they are a favourite hauling company for POPE, they can also atmospherize them.”

“POPE?” Luke asked.

“Photosynthesing Organisms for Private Enjoyment,” Rex explained. “They're everywhere. You've never come across them? They have a really annoying advertising jingle.” He hummed a few bars.

Luke looked blank. “I've never actually lived on a planet other than Tatooine. Not in cities, anyway.”

“Flower shops, kid,” Solo said in his drawling voice. “They're an interplanetary chain of flower shops.”

“Oh!” Luke's face lit up in understanding.

“So what I'm guessing is that he's going to offer to cook the books and let us smuggle in equipment, maybe a few specialists. But if he's serious and willing...”

“We could sneak a whole army past customs,” Solo grinned.

“Technically. Maybe. It would be extremely risky. I'm meeting him to see how far he's willing to go and give him a shielded, encrypted comm. Their headquarters aren't on Coruscant, but it's still an Empire-controlled world. He'd be risking a lot to help us.”

“So where are you meeting him?”

Ahsoka sighed. “Not your concern.”

“Of course it is,” said Luke. “Never go in without backup.”

Chewie mumbled something about taking his own advice. Luke leaned over and poked Han, who shrieked “What did I do?”

“C’mon. Just tell us. Han can lurk around, selling his goods and shopping for an engagement present, I'll shop for...” He blinked. “I dunno. Something. Does Deil Kerran have antiquities shops?”

“I'm not... We're not...” Solo    stuttered.

“Han, this mission is about taking Coruscant. What did you think would happen afterwards?”

Rex raised his eyebrows. “Those two are going through with it?”

Luke shrugged. “Leia informed him he'd marry her if and when we get Coruscant. I don't think it was a question.” Chewie laughed his barking laugh, saying it certainly hadn't been.

Organa and Solo? That must be interesting. “House on fire” sort of interesting. She wondered what Bail would have thought.

Panic rolled off Han in waves. “I never...”

Luke patted him kindly on the arm. “It's okay. But you need clothes, and Leia did mention that engagement gifts are an old Alderaanian custom.”

“She did?”

Ahsoka crossed her arms, amused. From what she could remember from “Courtship and Bonding in Core-World Cultures” back in her Initiate days, the engagement gift was for the groom, or grooms as the case may be. She forgot what the brides got.

“Her exact words were 'that pea-brained nerf herder had better at least get me an engagement gift. I do have other things to do than organise a wedding, you know.' “ It was a pretty good imitation of the little Ahsoka had heard of Leia Organa.

Solo threw up his hands. “Okay, okay. Er, jewellery?”

“What's she going to do with jewellery? It’ll just get caught on stuff.”

“Custom blaster, got it.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Wow. I'm better at romance than you and I grew up in an actual desert.”

Rex rallied. “Well, General Solo, if you're getting Princess Organa a blaster, I can come with you. See if I can find a proper weapon.”

“You,” Ahsoka jabbed her finger at him, “are staying here. That leg isn't healed yet.”

“I can walk on it, though.”

“Stand down, soldier.”

He scowled.

“He can keep Chewie company,” Luke offered.

Rex scowled harder.

“So,” Luke said, hiding a smile behind his hand. “Han'll be on standby nearby. What did you want to do with the Rogues?”

To be honest, she hadn't expected to get them. When was the last time she’d had fighter backup? The war? She considered. “Last resort, in case local law enforcement gets involved. I do hope we can get in and out without attracting attention, or else this whole thing is for nothing. My contact needs to be able to return to their firm for this to work.”

“Disguise?”

“I did suggest it. I hope they took my advice.”

Everybody nodded.

The Rogues might be a good in, actually. “Did I hear Madine right? You’re Rogue Leader? Is that going to be a problem with them?”

He nodded. “Nominally. I'm guessing not for long, I spend more and more time away from the squadron than with them. Wedge is good, though. He was at Yavin with me.”

Aha. “Red Five.”

He grinned. “Standing by.”

Well, that was easy. There were still so, so many questions, but that one, at least, was answered. She crossed her arms. “You can't be near this operation.”

He shrugged. “Vader was the one obsessed with me. Now that he's dead, the Empire has better things to do.”

Vader himself. That clocked with the bounty lists. But why? It was too much, even for Rogue Five. Anakin could get obsessive, but this? “The bounty's still active.”

“Really?” He seemed surprised.

“It was raised after Endor. Again.”

“Whoa.” He nudged Solo. “So I'm still worth more than you.”

“Shaddup, kid. I'm still prettier.”

She stared at Solo. Reliable, Madine had said, as long as he had leeway. Okay. She could work with that. “You can be on standby, but you don't set foot in the meeting place unless I'm surrounded by stormtroopers. Got it?”

“Yes, ma'am.” The grin was lazy, the tone insolent, but there was no hint of bristling or insubordination. Good. “We use static bursts,” Solo said, handing her a hand comm. “Three long and one short.”

Ahsoka nodded. “I remember.  You two,” she jabbed her fingers at Luke and Rex, “Stay on the damn ship.”

“Yes, Commander.” Oh, no. It was Rex's wooden, I-am-saying-what-you-want-to-hear-sir tone.

“I mean it.”

Luke sat back and bridged his thumbs. “No.”

“No?”

“You'll need me.” There was a weight to it. Damn Force-sensitives to Mortis and back.

She leaned forward, into his personal space. He raised his eyebrows but didn't back down. “Your very presence could jeopardize this whole mission.”

“I know. But I also know I need to be there.”

“Why?”

He cocked his head at her and closed his eyes. In a blink, he sunk into the Force so completely she couldn't feel him at all.

Ahsoka felt as though someone had thrown a bucket of ice water down her spine. It was wrong. He was right there, her eyes insisted he was right there, but her Force sense just looked at her in puzzlement and shrugged. This was impossible.

Then, just as suddenly, he was back. “I saw a red blade. That can't be right – Vader's dead and so's the Emperor, but that's what I saw.” He shrugged, ducking his head. “Sorry. I'm still not very good at this.”

“Obi-Wan didn't teach you that.”

“'Course he did. Surrender to the Force.” He smiled, grief snaking out of him. “My very first lesson.”

What? Really? As much as she had convinced herself it made sense, she hadn’t been expecting that. “Not... Not completely. Not so quickly.”

“Oh, that. When you have to meditate while levitating rocks, jumping trees and carrying a Jedi Master on your back, it's not exactly hard.”

Something beeped in the cockpit. Chewie leaned over and informed them that they were coming out of hyperspace in five minutes.

“Already?” No, she should still have – over an hour, at least. Enough to finish this, take a shower, get dressed…

Solo gave her his crooked smile. “Fastest ship in the galaxy, sweetheart.”

Oh, kark. “I need to change. Does this flying piece of junk art have a sonic?”

She’d get those answers. All of them. Eventually.

Chapter Text

“Corellian Freighter Ice Comet, you are cleared for landing on flight path 2-1-1-6 bearing magnetic east. Please proceed to Landing Pad Arco 3. A customs officer will meet you there.”

Han glanced at her. “I still get to be Captain, right?”

Ahsoka gave him an amused smile. “Certainly.”

“Acknowledged, Deil Kerran. Flight path 2-1-1-6, landing pad Arco 3.” He looked her up and down, at her short skirt and tight leggings. “You’re looking nice.”

Ahsoka smiled conspiratorily. “Hmmm. I do clean up well, don’t I?” She drew a finger along Han’s jaw. “But you haven’t the montrals for me.” She sauntered off, laughing.

Han lounged back. “You don’t know what you’re missing. I’m a practically-married man. Well, have fun. The kid and I will be along once we’ve finished with Customs.”

Chewie stopped her with a large paw as she passed him and reported that Rogue Squadron had checked in and were positioned on the far side of the dwarf planet's secondary moon, as agreed, and were hoping for a boring mission catching up on their series.

“From their mouths into the Force's ears,” she said.

Ahsoka tugged the scrounged leather jacket over her top and shook out her coveralls, keeping her head down as she manoeuvred the hoversled down the ramp. There was someone with a clipboard. There was always someone with a clipboard. This one was a blue-and-yellow humanoid droid of some make she couldn't recognise and whose mannerisms reminded her of Padmé's protocol droid, though its voice was nasal and bored.

“This the lot?”

She nodded. Some places had voice recognition software linked to the Empire's police files.

“Not much for a whole run.”

She shrugged and pitched her voice to a rasp. “Rush courier job. More credits for us.”

“Yeah, they're pretty popular with the transients.” Its tone indicated that it had been programmed for small talk and resented every word.

Ahosoka nodded and gestured towards the exit. The droid sighed the sigh of the clipboard-holder and waved her off.

She pushed it through the streets of Deil Kerran in search of a likely parking space, invisible in her coveralls and coat – she hoped.

Deil Kerran was small, with two-or-three-story shops mixed in with residential houses carved down into the grey rock of the dwarf planet, leaving only an arched roof with a round, lighted door aboveground. The soft glow of the doors – each a different colour – added a cheerful twist to the garishly painted shops. Over in the distance, two tall structures loomed over the outpost. One was a temple of some sort – some sect of the Waili Sages, if she wasn't mistaken, a purple corkscrew spiral studded with orange shrines like architectural mushrooms – the other, the menacingly familiar block of an Imperial command centre. It was all astonishingly clean and well-maintained, and crawling with stormtroopers. She passed three patrols in the first ten minutes alone.

There – a kiosk selling smokes and spacer's rations. She pushed the hoversled around to the back and parked it next to an freight elevator, then shimmied out of her jacket and coveralls and disposed of them in the nearest recycler.

She shook out a hooded cloak that matched her outfit, slipped on some gloves, and went in search of CrayCray's Diner and Seafood Lounge.

It had booths, but nothing else to merit the name of diner, especially when your metric wasDex's or, when Obi-Wan had time, Didi's. The floor was some kind of synthetic grass, the seats shimmering diamond-patterned green, the tables white, and there wasn't a counter; instead, a wall-to-wall aquarium offered glimpses of the kitchen between many-finned or tentacled sea creatures lazily swimming around an artificial reef.

It was fairly full; it must be near the local meal-time. She scanned the patrons, mostly workers on their breaks and a smattering of spacers, and one mother-and-child group obviously back from a doctor's visit, the youngling scowling at a bandage on its hand. There were a fair amount of non-humans, but then again Deil Kerran wasn't an imperial base per se, though in view of the blindingly-new building and the proliferation of stormtroopers, the Imperials had other ideas.

There was a Twi'lek sitting in a booth nursing some caff, but it wasn't her contact. Per Adurin had pale skin and long, thin lekku; this one had blue skin and a younger, rounder face. Still, he looked up and waved hesitantly when she came in.

“You answering the ad?”

Stupid boy. Did he think she would fall for it? She shook her head and strode past, barely catching a small gesture under the table. He had hiked up a sleeve, showing pale skin above his wrists.

Ahsoka sighed and consulted the Force. This boy was no threat, but that could just mean that he wasn't going to arrest her himself.

Still. Coruscant.

She slipped into a chair across from him. “You don't look like someone searching for an inventory manager.” It was true. It was also the second part of the code.

He shrugged, his breath hitching nervously. He hid it well, but his leg started jittering a little under the table. “I wasn't planning on being someone searching for an inventory manager.”

That was the last of the code. “Well, you're in luck.” She put her elbows on the table. “You're not him.” Names, here, could be dangerous.

He smiled, revealing well-filed teeth. “Nope. Nephew. He convinced me to do a stint in the mess of Heavy Barge #345, but I'm getting off here. On to Borine. I haven't seen my boyfriend in four months.”

“And you can deliver what he promised?”

He nodded. Leaned forward, pitching his voice low. “We've hated this for so long, but until he got your card, we didn't know what we could do about it. He'll stay in place. I'll be your liaison. He doesn't have a lot of friends outside the company, but he comms the family regularly, so talking to me won't be suspicious. We figured out a code and everything.”

A code. Force help her.

He must have seen it in her face because he grinned again. “I'm a cook. Well, according to my degree, I'm an accountant, but I took a cooking certification during summer breaks. I'm thinking of opening a restaurant on Borine, but they don't have much in the way of hardware suppliers. Or ingredients. Or personnel. They basically only have vending machines, except in the capital.”

Oh. That was fairly clever, actually. She could think of a dozen ways to turn questions about a hospitality business into a functional and convincing code.

They sat back and paused as a waiter – a Quirren with the mottled colouring of a female, not a droid – came to take their order. The boy ordered some sort of fried and buttered seafood with a coya-bean sauce. Since she hadn't even glanced at the menu, Ahsoka ordered the same.

When the waiter had gone out of earshot, the boy leaned back in. Ahsoka winced. Some of the body paint had come off of his left lekku where it rubbed against the table.

“Also,” he continued cheerfully as though they hadn't been interrupted, “I do have a lot of friends outside the company, and I stay in touch with a lot of them, sometimes sporadically, so a new number on my comm logs won't appear as suspicious.”

She smiled gently. They really had thought this through. It was rather refreshing. “That won't be necessary.” She used the Force to fish a tiny comm unit out of her belt and passed it to him under the table. “The first number is mine. The second and third are only if there is an emergency and you can't contact me. Use the same recognition code for them as you did here.”

He nodded, shifting to put it in a pocket.

“Do you have anything else in that pocket?”

He looked taken aback. “Um. Mints?”

“Offer me one.” She had practised taking things from her belt without anyone noticing. The Force helped, of course. But it would have been clear to anyone watching that he was putting his hand in his pocket.

“Oh. Uh, sure.” He brought out a little box with “Sentient Greetings from the Coreworld House of Taste” embossed on it, with cartoon eating implements grinning up at her. Cute.

She opened it and, kark, she remembered that smell. And with it, that museum. Her crèche clan had gone there, Master Duri grinning with delight as xe took them from exhibit to exhibit, encouraging them to try the sample smelling stations, fiddle with the reproduction eating implements. There had been an open buffet at the end, and even the Interspecies Refrectory hadn't had that many different dishes from that many different cultures out all at once.

She returned the tin, tapping  on its lid. “What's it like, now?”

“The museum?” He was taken aback. “Oh. Great. From what I teased out of the guide, the exhibits are mostly the same, they only changed the labels. You know. Hinting that all that is well and good, but human food is best. That this diversity of cultures all contribute to the Glory of the Empire. Not sure how they reconciled those two views without spontaneously combusting, but the food facts were all true.”

Ahsoka tried not to let the disgust show on her face. They could have phrased it all neutrally. They could even have grown a backbone and promoted diversity without all the pro-Empire drivel. Nothing, nothing got her guard up more than unnecessary compliance. She knew, now, from Bail, how much the Jedi had pushed back. How much of their role in the war was forced upon them in a monstrous calculation of the least harm they could do, the most people they thought they could protect. How much pushback they gave, even – though she hadn't paid attention at the time – quite openly, against a regime that at least still pretended to be benevolent. How much they had suffered for it.

She allowed herself a few calming breaths.

“Um.” The boy visibly held back as their drinks were put in front of them. “What about when I contact you? Same code?”

That was when the door to the Grill whooshed open, heralding the familiar tramp-tramp of stormtroopers. Various patrons screamed and bolted up, distracting them. That was their chance.

The boy went pale beneath his blue makeup, now more than slightly smudged. Ahsoka threw him her cloak, whispering “kitchens”. He had the comm. If she were taken, the comm had other contacts. He knew the code.

He was the key to Coruscant.

Plastering a smile on her face, she stood and advanced, blocking the stormtrooper's path.

“Hello gentleman. What can I do for you today?”

She heard the boy's chair scrape against the grass.

“Ident control. Please sit down and await your turn.”

Behind her, just at the periphery of her vision, the door to the kitchens swung on its hinges. Two stormtroopers herded the kitchen personnel in, blasters drawn. The boy at least had the presence of mind to slip in between them, but his exit route was cut off.

She flipped the cover of the pouch on the back of her belt. Careful.

Just then the doors swished open again and a drawling, Corellian voice called out, “Hi, honey. Sorry I'm late.”

Oh, no. No. Her bounty was still as a Jedi. His was as a Rebellion general implicated in two of the biggest victories against the Empire (and still so, so much less than Rogue Five's), not to mention a smaller but still substantial one issued by Jabba the Hut and re-issued by Bib Fortuna, and half-a-dozen other ones from somewhat dubious and sometimes unlikely places.

Blasters came up, tracking Solo as he sauntered over to her and threw an arm around her shoulders. “Didja miss me?”

“If I had, I'd've called.” And she hadn't. Still, she played into it. As disastrous as this could turn out, anything that distracted them from the boy was a boon.

“And you didn't even invite me to the party.” He shook his head in mock consternation as they shuffled sideways, following the instructions of the stormtroopers rounding up the patrons.

“What's your chain-code look like?” She muttered out of the side of her mouth.

“I'm guessing about as good as yours,” Solo answered, bowing his head dramatically to a gesturing trooper.

The sergeant started sorting out his troopers. One of them took out a scanner and datapad and started on the other end of the line of restaurant patrons, while another advanced on the kitchen staff, where the boy was shuffling nervously with the hood over his head, one scuffed lekku peeking out, flashing “I am suspicious!” in blinking neon lights.

All right. Subtle was never her lineage's forte, anyway. Well, not her Master's, anyway. Or her great-grandmaster, if you believed Obi-Wan's stories. His master had been, supposedly, before we went about as flashy as a leader of a confederation could get without actually donning rhinestones.

She stepped forward, straight into their line of fire, flashing a smile that showed off her sharp canines. “Oh, boys! Looking for me?”

There was a hasty conference behind her, but the troopers in front simply reached to push her aside. She settled her arms behind her back and steadied her stance, ready to call her sabers to her.

“Nah,” said Solo, the nerf-head, as he jostled the troopers aside to step in front of her and spread his arms wide, a spring-loaded cuff dropping a tiny blaster into his hand. “You're definitely lookin' for me.”

Then the lights went out.

Patrons screamed, then gasped as, behind the stormtroopers forming up against the unknown threat, a long beam of brilliant green light pierced the darkness, its emerald highlights sketching the outline of a black hood and cloak.

Snap-kissssh.

“I think you will find,” the slim figure remarked calmly, “that you are looking for me.”