Prologue

The assembly hall was stifling hot from a mixture of the temperate climate and the thousands of bodies packed tightly together to accommodate the vast crowd here to see the graduation ceremonies. Those of us who waited impatiently for the speeches to end and our diplomas to be handed out, suffered along with everyone else.

On top of the heat, the present speaker was not only long-winded, he was extremely dull. What was supposed to be a ten minute tribute was threatening to turn into a dissertation of the history of the Rebellion. But while my fellow graduates had to be content with contemplating the floor, or fidgeting in their seats, I had other things to pass the time.

I'd hardly heard any of the speeches. I was too busy surveying the multitude of visitors, families and friends that made up the audience. While trying to remain unobtrusive and inconspicuous, my eyes swept the hall countless times, searching for him... trying to find that one face amongst the many.

I'd tried not to expect him. I'd reminded myself over and over that he had more important things to do than to remember a vague promise made eleven years ago to a sniveling kid, but I couldn't keep myself from searching, and as the ceremony dragged on, a knot of disappointment grew inside of me.

Trying to focus on something else, I let my gaze fall to the front row. At least these were people I knew... my professors, friends I'd made at the Academy, and there, looking very thoughtful, as if he were actually enjoying the speech, was Luke Skywalker. I'd known Luke back on Tatooine where I grew up. Although I was much younger, he'd never seemed to mind my tagging along. Of course, the fact that his best friend was my big brother might have made a difference. But then, Luke sort of tagged after Biggs, and if Biggs didn't mind, why should Luke? Now that I think about it, Luke and I had several things in common... the biggest being our hero-worship of my brother, Biggs Darklighter.

Now, years after Biggs' death, Luke viewed me with a sort of brotherly affection... as if he were doing something for Biggs... paying back an old debt. He'd watched over me during my years at the Academy, making sure I didn't goof up or fail. Like I ever would. Graduation from this place had been the main goal of my life for some time. But I listened to Luke's advice and counsel anyway. It made him feel good and it reminded me of old times. Besides, he nearly always made sense.

The speaker was winding down at last and a great whispering sigh rippled through the hall, bringing me out of my reverie. The graduates were asked to rise to their feet. As we gratefully straightened our stiff limbs, my new position offered a different vantage point of the audience.

At first I thought I was mistaken. Maybe I'd been daydreaming too long. I blinked rapidly to clear my vision and then had to fight an absurd surge of joy. He was there, in the very back of the hall, leaning casually against the wall of fur that forever accompanied him. Even though from this distance I couldn't see him clearly, I knew there would be a bored expression on his face. He hated crowds and ceremonies. But it didn't matter. The only thing I cared about was that he'd remembered. He cared enough to come after all this time. He was here, looking just the same as he had the last time I saw him... eleven years ago.

Ranny sat crouched in the already crowded hold, trying to ease his cramped legs. It couldn't be long until departure now. He'd been waiting for what seemed like days, but he was afraid to sneak out of the ship for a break in his vigil. He'd waited too long and tried too hard to miss his chance by having the ship leave without him. Even the fear of being caught stowing away was pushed far to the background by the thought of losing this opportunity to find Biggs.

Biggs! The thought of his long-missing older brother still threatened to bring tears to his eyes. How many times in the past two years had he missed that happy face that always seemed ready with a smile just for him... that strong shoulder that had soaked up countless tears when life had gotten too rough. Though time had softened the sorrow, it had only sharpened his need and increased Ranny's determination to find his brother and once again feel the security of Biggs' rich laughter telling him everything would be all right.

There was no doubt in his mind that everything would be all right... in spite of what that Imperial communication has said, in spite of his father's bitter anger, his mother's disappointed grief, the fact that it had been two years and not a word from the middle Darklighter boy. Those things notwithstanding, Ranny knew he could find Biggs and put things to right again. For Ranny knew something his father didn't. Ranny knew why Biggs had jumped ship.

He remembered vividly that day when Biggs, fresh out of the Academy and home on a short leave, had confided to Luke about the Rebellion and his plans to join. Ranny had watched the two friends walk off and had wanted to go with them, but though neither boy had ever minded his tagging along before, somehow on that day Ranny had felt uninvited. Determined not to be totally excluded, he'd followed discreetly, terribly curious as to what could so sober his usually carefree brother.

He'd heard everything. What had scared him so much at that time, now made him swell with pride. He'd resolved that if Biggs felt the Rebellion was worth fighting for, then he did too. Of course, he was still pretty young, he had to admit, but there must be something a willing and able-bodied twelve year old could do to help. Besides, being near Biggs was all that really mattered, even if he had to polish helmets.

He wished he could've told his family, but his mother would only fuss and cry over him and his father... well, how many times had he tried to talk to his father about Biggs, only to be cut off by a stern command not to mention his brother's name. It seemed to Ranny that his father was terribly afraid of something. Why else would he have moved the family as soon as they'd received the message telling them Biggs had deserted the service? There had also been the horrible slaughter of Owen Lars and his family. Had it been more than coincidence that the Lars homestead had been gutted the next day after Biggs had confided in Luke? Ranny shuddered and thanked the stars that Biggs had left in time to avoid all the trouble.

Besides all the Imperial problems, there was another reason why Ranny's parents would object to his going off to look for Biggs. Since Daniel was dead and Biggs gone, he was the last son... the baby boy. He mentally made a face at that term but had to accept it. He'd lived with that reality all his life. His parents would never have let him go, even if they'd known everything. It had been hard enough to convince his father he was finally old enough to come with him on his annual trip to Mos Eisley. If he hadn't been able to do that, he'd never have gotten away. No ships worth anything ever came to Anchorhead.

At last though, he was here... tucked away nice and neat on a freighter headed for the Kelway system. He wasn't exactly sure how to go about finding Rebels, but he figured just getting off Tatooine was a major accomplishment in itself. He could work out a plan of action later. His one concern now was that his father might discover him missing and start a search that could delay departure times. He couldn't be caught. His father would never let him out of his sight again.

Even as these thoughts plagued his mind, he felt a growing rumble under his feet. The ship was getting underway. He breathed a sigh of relief. He would be on his way soon, to the Rebellion... and to Biggs.

Space hung cold and empty. Few stars interrupted the bleak darkness and the ones there shone feebly, as if the effort was too much and at any moment they would surrender to the blackness.

In the midst of this vast nothingness, a blue-tinged blur appeared abruptly. It streaked across a long expanse of space then, with a brilliant burst of light, became a modified scout ship. After the magnificence of its arrival faded, the craft was left small and alone... an intruder in this emptiness. Inside the craft, the silence of space had crept into the cockpit. Neither occupant spoke, as if in deference to the stretch of infinity surrounding them.

Luke leaned back in his chair, grateful for a break from the controls. Hyper-space always took something out of him. Even old-time spacers admitted that jumps affected them, so Luke felt no shame at grabbing a chance to relax. He ran a loving hand over the armrest of his seat. His ship... the very feel of her still sent a thrill of pride coursing through him. She was a dream come true that he'd been waiting for as long as he could remember.

She'd found her way to him second hand, a cast off the Rebels no longer had any use for, but something about the weary-looking vessel had caught Luke's attention. The mechanic in him told Luke the ship wasn't through by a long shot. All the old girl needed was a little looking after.

He'd spent all his spare time shaping her into what he wanted. When he was finished, even Lance, the chief mechanic, had to give Luke his begrudging approval. The vessel wasn't overbearing... small and sturdy in frame, and Luke had to admit he'd even outdone his own expectations. There had been just one more thing left to do.

Ships engaged in rebel activity could hardly fly with names emblazoned on their hulls, so Luke had satisfied himself by taking a small laser tool and engraving the words, "After the Victory" over the entrance to the cockpit. When he'd finished he'd stepped back to survey his handiwork.

A soft chuckle had turned him to the hatchway. "Not bad," was the only comment the Corellian had given him, but Luke knew well enough that it was a compliment and took it as such. Smiling, he'd led his friend outside to give him the guided tour. After that, they'd gone off for a test run. Han's familiar skeptical sarcasm only added to Luke' pride as the ship proved his workmanship again and again.

Remembering that day, Luke thought glumly what he wouldn't give to hear some of that sarcasm right now.

"Blast him anyway!" Luke's hand slammed down on the console. "Where can he be?"

Chewbacca growled irritably and Luke glanced over at the Wookie contritely. Even in his frustration at Han's mysterious disappearance, he found consolation in the fact that he'd lately begun to understand the Falcon's furry co-pilot. He still spoke to Chewie in the human tongue. His few humble attempts to speak Wookie had only resulted in giving Han something new to tease him about. Chewie had cheered him a little though, in reminding him that Corellians have no manners and pointing out the fact that Han didn't attempt the language either. It had been funny at the time, but now it seemed years in the past. There were more important matters requiring both Luke and Chewie's attention.

"I'm sorry, Chewie," Luke apologized. "I just can't figure what might have happened."

The Wookie's tone softened a great deal. He whined quietly about Han having a short attention span and needing to find new amusement.

Luke shook his head. "I don't buy that and neither do you. Underneath everything, Han's committed to the Rebellion." Luke paused and eyed Chewie. "Besides, even if you were right, he wouldn't have left without you."

Chewie rumbled his uncertainty.

Luke sensed the Wookie's need for reassurance and hastened to give it. "No way, Chewie. When you were describing Corellians you forgot one thing... loyalty. Maybe he never said it, but Han... well, there were times when he thought he'd never see you again and he fell apart. He needs you."

There was no mistaking the Wookie's reply. He was telling Luke that Han needed Luke as well.

Luke shifted his gaze out to the view of space. "I'm still not sure what Han feels for me, Chewie... even after all this time. I hope it's friendship at least... or..." Luke paused.

Chewie barked out the Wookie term for brother.

Luke shrugged, not knowing how to answer. The closest he'd ever come to having a brother had been Biggs Darklighter. It was hard to imagine Han Solo in the same role Biggs had played in his life. Still, different as the two men were, they both were people Luke looked up to... had laughed with, griped with, faced the enemy with. Did that make men brothers?

If he was ever to find out for sure, he would have to locate Han, or at least discover what had happened to him. Luke wasn't about to lose another friend... at least not without a fight.

The streets of the settlement were dark and oppressive. Residents knew better than to do much traveling after the sun had set. There was little sound except the occasional chirp of nocturnal insects and the distant howls of the predatory Kaymel wolves on their nightly forays. At the far end of the town however, profitably near the docking bays, there came the reedy strains of various musical instruments from the small, crumbling building that passed itself off as a cantina.

Inside the club, a layer of smoke hung heavily over the scattered tables. In one corner a lanky, hungry-looking man leaned on the bar with one arm. The other moved in slow circles as he wiped lazily at the counter. On the end of the bar a cheap recording apparatus emitted a cacophony of bad music pitched at an ear-splitting level.

Han sat at a table as far into a dim alcove as possible. His only company was a half-empty bottle of an amber colored liquor. He didn't care what it was, only that it was quickly numbing his brain to the disturbances around him. He shouldn't let himself get drunk. He needed to have all his senses alert and responsive. A person could get blasted real quick because of a split-second delay in reaction time. But he was tired... bone weary. Tired of running, of looking over his shoulder, of sleeping half-alert with blaster in hand, and most of all... tired of being alone.

He poured himself another drink and slouched in his chair. Loneliness was something he never would've owned up to a few years ago. In fact, he would've fought anybody who even suggested it. But he'd spent the last seven years with Chewie by his side and he'd come to depend on the Wookie more than he ever knew possible.

And Luke... He had to admit he missed the kid too. Luke... with his grand ideals, his Jedi hocus-pocus, his stubborn eagerness to right all wrongs. As much as he would've liked to deny it, Han knew he wanted nothing more than to be back at the base wising it up with Luke and Chewie. He even missed Leia's bossy arrogance.

He reached for the bottle again, but somehow he missed, knocking it over and drenching the table and himself.

"Damn!" he muttered, scooting his chair out and rising on unsteady feet. Time to quit if he was this far gone.

He dug into his pocket for money to pay the bill and he heard the crackling of the folded paper he'd stashed there... that terrible message that had spurred his exodus from the base. Because of this one small note, he'd left friends and causes behind him. He silently cursed the heavens as the contents of the message came rushing unbidden into his mind.

My Dear Han,

I hope the last ten years have found you happy, for you will not see the end of number eleven. Kessel does not sweeten tempers, nor erase grudges. You will pay me back for the time I spent there, slaving for the Empire. No one runs out on me. From now on you must look behind you. And when you least expect it, I will be there. Count on me. I am someone who keeps my word.

Slade

Slade! One name from the past. Yet enough to change Han's whole life... and just after he'd gotten everything straightened out from the last upheaval in his existence. He'd finally found a place to belong and friends who stuck by him. Now, to protect those things and people he cared about, he had to leave them... without a word of explanation, for he knew they would try and help. He couldn't let them get involved. Slade was too good at his job. No, it was better if they thought he'd just gotten bored or fed up with a Rebel's life and struck out on his own. Slade was his problem, no one else's. Han would have to deal with him in his own way.

As he left the building, a blast of cold air caught him unaware and he gasped at its briskness. The wind had come up while he'd been inside and now he wished he'd brought a jacket along. Shivering, he made his way down a side street that led to the docking bays. He kept close to the wall, partly to stay out of the wind, but mostly because he was reeling a little with the effects of his indulgence.

That was a stupid thing to do, he berated himself. Serve ya right if Slade was right behind ya. He whirled quickly at the thought, just to make sure he was wrong. Brother, you are one spooked spacer, Solo ol' boy.

He laughed a little at his own paranoia, but knew in his soul that he had good cause to be jumpy. Slade as a friend had always made him uncomfortable, to say the least. Now he was Han's enemy... ruthless and formidable.

Trying to stay alert, Han moved on down the alley until he'd reached the door to bay number five where the Falcon was docked. He paused to take in the sight of the old freighter. In a universe gone crazy, the ship could still bolster up Han's sagging spirits. Left alone and on the run, he still had his ship. She'd been all he needed once and now she still had the ability to console him.

He shuffled toward the boarding ramp, thinking how ready he was to hit his bunk. The bay was deserted, illuminated only from the single, glaring light over the entryway. Stacks of crates and shipping cargo were piled along the walls, casting eerie shadows. The silence was so heavy that it rang disturbingly in Han's ears.

As he reached the bottom of the ramp, Han spun quickly, drawing his blaster. His hazel eyes strained to find things in the darkness. He felt a presence in the bay, like someone was watching him. He stood motionless for a long time, until he gradually became aware of his own heartbeat. Swallowing hard, he backed slowly up the ramp, gun poised. He reached a cautious hand up to the hatch release. The door slid open with a soft whoosh. Han stopped, listening. No sound interrupted the deathly quiet.

Still not entirely convinced he was imaging things, Han started into the ship. At the instant his head turned away from the bay, there was a scuffling sound and a heavy crate fell. Han pivoted, automatically firing a hastily aimed shot in the direction of the noise. The bolt hit wide, striking the wall and a muffled cry came from behind the boxes.

"One move and you're fried!" Han called out as he edged carefully toward the intruder.

He moved across the floor until he reached the corner. With blaster ready to instant action, he pushed an empty crate aside and brought his weapon down to bear.

"All right, now what's the..."

Han stopped in surprise, his mouth hanging open in mid-sentence. Instead of the vengeful pirate he'd expected, what he found was a small boy cowering fearfully, eyes wide with terror. As Han stood staring, the boy found the courage to speak.

"Please don't shoot me, mister," he pleaded in a quavering voice.

Han glanced down at his blaster and quickly holstered it, studying the boy as he did so. The child appeared about nine or ten. Blackish-brown hair fell disheveled into his face, shadowing the deep-set eyes further. Even in the dim light, Han could see the boy's clothes were ragged and dirty and it looked as if he hadn't eaten for a while.

"Relax, kid," Han said soothingly. "I won't hurt you. But you shouldn't go sneaking around after dark. What're you doing here anyway?"

"I... nothing. I..." The boy's nervous eyes flickered toward the docked ship. "I wasn't doing anything."

Han's own gaze turned to the Falcon. For the first time he noticed the stack of boxes under her main hold. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. It wouldn't be beneath Slade to use children in his murderous plots. Han turned back to the boy, whose face had grown terrified as Han's expression shifted from benevolence to anger.

"I wasn't doing anything, mister! Honest."

Han pulled the boy up by his shirt collar. "Come on," he growled. "We'll see what you were up to."

Han gripped the boy behind the neck and shoved him in front as the two made their way to the hold. He ignored the child's squirming under his firm hand. When they reached the ship, Han kicked at the boxes.

"What do you s'pose these are doing here? I sure don't remember leaving them."

The boy didn't answer and Han peered above him to examine the hull. Directly over the stacked crates was the maintenance hatch. It led to the small service crawlway under the hold. While still restraining the boy, Han reached up and tugged at the handle. The hatch opened outward easily... too easily. It was as if someone had shut it in a hurry and hadn't seen it was properly latched. He glared at the boy threateningly.

"I know I closed that baby. And I don't think it opened by itself. Do you?"

It was all the petrified boy could do to shake his head.

"What I think is that somebody stacked this stuff so he could reach up here. And he tried to get into my ship, only I came in and interrupted him and he didn't have time to make sure the hatch was closed. In fact, all he had time to do was to dive into the nearest pile of crates to hide. How'm I doing?" He looked over at the boy.

Tears had now begun to fall down the child's cheeks and he couldn't answer.

"What were you trying to do in there, kid?" Han asked sternly. "Somebody pay you to wreck something? Who told you to come here?"

The boy shook his head. He was sobbing now and could barely choke out the words. "I wasn't gonna touch anything... I promise I wasn't. Please don't hurt me. I only wanted a ride. I wouldn't mess anything up."

Han listened to this confession and for some reason found himself believing the story. It had a ring of truth to it and Han had always trusted his instincts... kind of a second sight he'd developed. It had kept him alive this long. He had a soft spot for stowaway kids anyway... childhood memories, he supposed. For the first time, Han relaxed his grip on the boy's neck.

"Okay, kid. I believe you. But don't let me catch you near my ship again, hear me?"

The boy's sobs slowly subsided as he realized he was off the hook and still in one piece. "You mean it?"

"Sure... now go on home." The boy made no move to leave. "What's wrong?" Han asked. "I said beat it."

The boy swallowed and rubbed a hand across his tear-streaked face. Then, gathering his courage, he spoke up timidly. "I... I still need a ride to Kulang. That's where you're going, isn't it?"

Han was amazed at the kid's gutsy nerve. "It doesn't matter where I'm goin'. I ain't taking you anywhere. All I need's your folks chasin' after me."

"I don't have any folks... least not here anyway," the boy said stubbornly. "I need to go to Kulang. If you don't take me, I'll find another ship." He made as if to leave the docking bay.

"Hey, kid... wait a second." The child stopped. Han stared at him a moment, grudging admiration now creeping in. "Stowing away is a good way to get killed. You know that."

"I know. I'll be more careful next time."

Han shook his head. "No next time." He paused, convinced he would regret his impulsiveness, but the need for company, even if it were only for a short hop, overrode his usual caution. "Look, kid... I don't take stowaways, but... I guess I could use a cabin boy. How 'bout it? Work for your passage?"

The boy stood disbelieving for a moment, then broke into a wide grin. "You bet." He started back toward Han and the ship.

"Great. Name's Solo. I'm captain of this old bird. What's your name?"

"Ranny."

"Well, Ranny... Welcome aboard the Millennium Falcon."

The main floor of the Crescent Moon was alive with dancers of varied species. The music was loud and blaring, but managed to be drowned out by the noise of talking and laughing in hundreds of languages. It was a noise which grew louder as the night wore on and the drinks flowed heavier. The total effect was proving to be one supernova of a headache for Luke.

He took a hearty swallow of the ale he was drinking and caught sight of himself in the decorative mirror lining the back wall of the bar. It was hard to believe he was still the same person he'd been such a short time ago. The last two years had more than made up for the twenty of insufferable boredom on Tatooine. The naive farmboy was gone. He'd died a swift and violent death that had started with the purchase of two seemingly unassuming droids and ended somewhere over the Deathstar trench. Now, as he gazed at the haggard-looking young man who stared back at him, he wondered where it would all lead.

He swallowed the remainder of his drink and unobtrusively studied the other occupants of the cantina. It was becoming a pattern. He and Chewie would enter the clubs where Han was known to frequent. Then the Wookie would go off hunting old acquaintances and business dealers to seek out information on Han's whereabouts, leaving Luke to entertain himself. Chewie used different approaches, ranging from collecting old debts to lining up future deals, depending on how the being he was asking felt about Han Solo. So far, they'd found out nothing concrete and both Luke and Chewie were discouraged. Han seemed to have just disappeared... vanished without a trace.

Luke glanced up at the second floor mezzanine, where Chewie was busily engaged in plying a skinny Friben transporter with drinks and gossip in the hopes of digging up some information. Luke didn't hold much hope for success. In spite of their egotistical bragging and braying, these dealers and smugglers were too conveniently close-mouthed when it suited their purposes.

He was about to order another ale when a trembling chill coursed down his spine and he had to fight to repress a shudder. He gripped the edge of the bar until his knuckles were white with tension. It had been a long time since he'd felt such a physical manifestation of the Force and he was at a loss to explain it.

"Hey, buddy... you all right?"

Luke opened his eyes to confront the tender. "Huh?"

"I said, are you all right? I don't want no disturbances here. You sick, go on home."

"No... no I'm fine. Really."

Luke took a deep breath and steadied himself. Picking up his glass, he wandered away from the curious barkeeper and over to a vacant table. The tremor had passed, leaving only a vague feeling of disquiet in Luke's mind. Ill at ease, he scrutinized the cantina for any possible source.

Chewie still sat with his connection, deep in conversation. The dancers still capered at full speed. The crowd had increased from when Luke first came in, but there was nothing he could really finger that would've had such an effect on him.

He glanced back at the bar. The tender had gone back to work, apparently satisfied that Luke wasn't going to drop dead in his establishment. Luke's eyes narrowed though, when he caught sight of the man leaning up against the counter. He was next to where Luke had been himself only moments earlier. Tall and lean.. long, yellow hair tied in a tail that hung to his waist... pale skin that seemed almost transparent, but it was the man's eyes that struck Luke like a cold slug to the stomach. Sharp and clear, they were a piercing green. Not warm hazel like Han's, but an icy jade color, as if two stones had been placed there, rather than normal eyes.

At the moment, these orbs were turned upward on Chewbacca and the Friben with such obvious intensity that Luke wondered how the Wookie could not be aware of them. Whatever the man's interest, Luke was now positive this was what had upset the flow of the Force so. He suddenly wished nothing more than to leave the cantina and this man's presence, but he and Chewie had a time schedule. Besides, there was no question of leaving the Wookie without telling him of the man's actions. He only wished his friend would hurry.

He didn't have long to wait. After about fifteen more minutes, he saw the Wookie and the Friben taking leave of each other. Chewie then made his way to the stairs. Luke's eyes followed him down the entire way, but instead of coming directly to the table, Chewie ambled first over to the bar and bought himself a drink. Luke gasped when he saw that the stranger was no longer there. In the few seconds Luke had been distracted, the man had disappeared into the crowd. He was still gaping when Chewie came up and sat down at his table and commented on how much he resembled a fish.

Luke closed his mouth and was quiet for a few moments. Then he turned to Chewie. "Find out anything?" he asked in a low voice.

The following series of grunts and growls let him know that the man was willing to talk somewhere more private. Chewie had set up an appointment at their ship in one hour.

"That's great! It's the first break we've had since we started."

Chewie rumbled a questioning sound in his direction, wondering what was wrong.

Luke's face grew troubled. "I'm not sure." He quickly informed Chewie of the man's strange behavior.

Chewie's normally happy blue eyes were dark with concern. Luke didn't need to know Wookie to see that his friend was worried. He gave a whine that could only mean they should be careful. Luke couldn't have agreed more.

It was close to the rendezvous time. As soon as Chewie finished his drink, they left the cantina. There was no moon and the streets were dark. Luke kept one hand close to his light sabre and his holster free in case his blaster was needed.

Chewie was growling... a low, nervous sound that meant nothing to Luke, but only added to his growing sense of apprehension. Something evil was in the air. Luke could sense it with every fiber of his being. He stayed near the Wookie and his eyes darted anxiously from one side of the street to the other.

Suddenly, out of the deep silence, came an anguished scream... cut short, as if someone had shut off a recording. Luke drew his blaster as Chewie raised his crossbow. There was a scuffling far down the street and then the sound of running feet quickly faded away.

"Come on," Luke whispered to the Wookie and ran toward the disturbance. He heard Chewie's calls of caution but knew, somehow, that the danger had passed momentarily. Whatever was going to be done had already happened. Just as he knew before he reached the man, it was the Friben transporter.

He was dead. There was blood everywhere... more blood than Luke could remember seeing in one place before. Kneeling down, Luke gently turned the man over onto his back. There, with sick horror, he saw the slashed throat... still bleeding from the fresh wound.

Gagging, Luke staggered to his feet as Chewie came up beside him. He clutched at the Wookie's strong arm. Chewie gave him a soothing growl and pulled him away.

Luke found his voice at last. "It was the man in the Cantina, Chewie. He's after Han."

Chewie kicked at the dead man's foot and grunted his wish that the man had been more helpful. Luke nodded grimly and holstered his blaster. Then he and Chewie melted away into the darkness... leaving only the corpse and no one to tell what had happened to it.

Han watched with misgivings as the boy disappeared into the crowd. In the short trip to Kulang he'd been unable to learn anything about Ranny except his age. He only knew that because the boy had grown indignant when Han had made a comment about what a little kid was doing hitching on freighters. So he'd just turned a twelve year old kid loose on a planet where he could end up dead for breathing wrong. It didn't sit right with him but he kept telling himself there wasn't anything he could do. After all, he wasn't a galactic babysitter, and he had enough troubles of his own to worry about it.

Trying to put Ranny out of his mind, Han set off to keep an appointment with a spice dealer here. Because of the importance of keeping a low profile, he'd found himself working for low-class merchants he'd always avoided. It was a blow to his pride. Dealing with the scum always left a bad taste in his mouth, but though these cheap shot dealers didn't pay well, they didn't ask questions either. That's what he needed in order to operate without letting the whole galaxy know where he was. Of course, Slade would find him. Han wasn't trying to hide from the smuggler. Even if he could've shaken Slade from his trail, it would've gone against his grain to run away. What he hoped was that he could lead his pursuer away from his Rebel connections... draw him out when Han was ready to face him.

With a quick look over his shoulder that had become his trademark the last few weeks, Han pushed open the back entrance to the old curio shop that fronted for Donner's illegal spice dealings. One last worried thought about Ranny was quickly assuaged by reminding himself that the boy would've been in far greater danger if he'd hung around. That was the whole reason Han had taken off anyway... to keep innocent people from winding up dead because of his problems. Running his hand through his hair, as if to brush away the worry, he walked into the shop, ready to do business.

Ranny shoved his way through the throng of people milling about the business sector of Karpane, the major trading port on Kulang. In the time since he'd left Tatooine, he still hadn't gotten over his amazement at the vast numbers of beings that could congregate in one place. Even Mos Eisley hadn't been this populated and he thought of it as the biggest city in the galaxy. The multitudes made him feel insignificant and insecure. He'd always been self-conscious about his size and now felt even smaller. He thought about Captain Solo's remark about him being a little kid. It still stung and he wondered what other people thought when they saw him. Trying hard not to feel intimidated, he strove to appear as tall as possible as he elbowed his way through the horde.

Somewhere in this city there was a shopkeeper named Dorset who ran the Rebel operations in this sector. In all his weeks of discouraged searching, this had been Ranny's first real breakthrough. There was to be a meeting today and he'd been unbelievably lucky to get here in time. If he hadn't run across Captain Solo or if the Cap had been unreasonable about taking him, he might've missed his one chance at finding Biggs. Thanking the stars for his good fortune, he continued on his way in search of Dorset. He had to find the shopkeeper before the nightly curfew went into effect. If there was one nice thing about looking like a kid, it was that he could ask for directions without calling undue attention to himself or the Rebels. People would just think he was a lost child on a too crowded planet.

The afternoon sun was fading into dusk when Ranny finally located the jewelry shop run by Dorset. It had been a long, tiring search, but all the fatigue and dejection vanished at the sight of the small building. From somewhere in the tips of his toes, excitement tingled in Ranny and swelled up through his whole body. He tried to calm himself. Biggs probably wasn't here. This was only the first step. But he still couldn't keep the happy grin from his face at the prospect of finally getting put onto Biggs' track.

He walked up to the entrance and tried the door. It wouldn't budge. Confused, he moved over to peer inside one of the display windows. The shop inside was dark and empty. Could it have closed for the evening already? Ranny glanced up at the disappearing sun. It was getting late. The meeting couldn't very well happen during business hours, so he was still hopeful that he hadn't missed it. The only question was where to find it.

He stood indecisive for a moment. Then he remembered the alley that acted as a service access for the shops' rear exits. Maybe he could get in through there. He hurried to the end of the street and around the corner. There was the alley. The jewelers should be the fourth shop.

As he entered the narrow street, he slackened his pace almost involuntarily. If it had been growing dark out on the main part of town, here there was no light at all except an occasional shaft that filtered through the gaps between the buildings. Ranny was suddenly afraid, but he ignored his fear the best he could and walked slowly down the alley. His determination to find his brother was greater than any fear of newly-remembered ghost stories.

As he neared the fourth shop he suddenly stopped. The door to the workroom was open and low voices were coming from inside. Ranny's heart skipped a beat. They were there. He hadn't missed them. It was all he could do to keep from dancing and shouting for joy. I'm coming, Biggs, he thought to himself. Wait for me. Grinning happily, he walked purposefully up to the door. The alley no longer seemed dark or sinister. It could've been as bright and open as the Dune Sea for all he noticed.

He'd reached it now and was just about to step into the shop, when the sound of a blaster firing froze him instantly. The voices came again, louder this time, though still indistinct. Cautiously he peeked around the corner with one eye. What he saw filled him with terror, anger and dismay all at the same time.

Stormtroopers! Almost a dozen of them surrounded four or five frightened civilians. One man lay on the floor, obviously dead. Here were his Rebels then. The men who were going to take him to Biggs... cornered like sand rats and he stood there, unable to do anything to help them.

He had no idea how long the troopers had been there, but they evidently considered it too long. The leader gave an order and one trooper fired. The man he shot clutched at his abdomen and stood a moment, blinking rapidly. His look of amazement was etched forever into Ranny's memory.

Never in all his twelve years had he seen a man die. It seemed too easy... too casual. And Ranny knew they were all going to die. They were Rebels under a standing death sentence. For the first time since Biggs had left home, Ranny was frightened for him. His brother was one of these men who died all too willingly. He stood there, horrified... unable to move or look away... flinching as each man in his turn went down. After it was over and the soldiers started making formation to leave, fear finally rose into panic and he tore blindly down the alley and into the empty streets. He didn't care where he went; he just had to get as far away as possible from that horrible scene.

As he ran, stumbled, got up and ran again, the numbness gave way and sobs racked his body. Tears streamed unheeded down his cheeks. He only smeared at them when they threatened to blind him. Then suddenly, he impacted with an obstacle... only realizing he'd run into someone when he heard the soft grunt at the collision. He tried to get away but strong arms held his shoulders. In a frenzy now, he fought and kicked, only dimly aware of what was happening. Then, very distantly, he heard his name and realized the person was trying to talk to him.

"Ranny, Ranny... easy... take it easy, Kid."

He finally stopped struggling and looked up at his captor. Relieved recognition flooded through him.

"Captain Solo. I didn't know it was you."

"So I gathered.

Han took in the boy's ragged condition then glanced at the shop he'd just come out of. It wouldn't do to have Donner hear all his business. He drew Ranny away from the building.

"Kid... you sure do get into some messes. What've you been up to now?"

"They're dead, Cap. All of 'em." The tears still flowed uncontrollably.

"Dead? Who? Who's dead?"

"The troopers killed 'em. Just shot 'em dead like they were animals."

Han could feel Ranny's shoulder shudder under his hand. "All right. We'll go back to the ship. You can tell me about it then."

Ranny turned his tearful face up at Han and nodded. Then he moved away, off to the side of the road, and with Han holding him, was quietly sick.

Luke lay on his bunk unsuccessfully trying to get some sleep. Head pillowed on his arms, he stared up at the ceiling. His thoughts were a restless jumble, refusing to give him any peace. How long had it been now? Nearly two months and not a sign. Their one hope had been the slain Friben. Since then it seemed they'd merely gone through the motions, as if the transporter's death had sealed Han's fate and all access to him. He wanted to believe they would find the Corellian, but each day and each new failure made it harder and harder. How long could he justify his absence to the Alliance?

Heavy footsteps brought his attention back to the ship. Chewie was early if he was coming to wake him for relief. Luke turned his head toward the door as the Wookie's massive bulk filled the cabin's entrance and informed him of a message coming in. It was a priority scramble.

Luke nodded and swung his legs over the bunk's edge and let them rest on the deck. He sat that way for a moment and rubbed a hand across his tired eyes.

Chewie began to apologize, but Luke waved him silent. "Forget it. I couldn't sleep anyway."

The Wookie grunted his understanding of the problem.

Luke got to his feet and, as Chewie moved aside to let him pass, patted the Wookie's arm understandingly.

"Let's go see what they want, although I think I've got a pretty good idea already."

Chewie followed him to the cockpit. His snuffling questions asking if Luke thought they were going to be asked to return to base.

Luke sighed. "What I think is we've been out of action for a long time and they're beginning to wonder a little bit."

There was no passion or stress in the Wookie's adamant bark. It was just a statement of fact that he wasn't going to give up. Han was a great deal more important to him than the Rebellion.

"I know," Luke said soothingly as he pulled on his headset. "We won't stop, but we may have to combine a little business with... well, business. Okay... I've got them now."

The message came over polite, but firm. They were not expected to quit searching for Captain Solo, but could they find the time to divert to Kulang? The Rebel operatives had fallen silent. It was imperative to find out what happened to them. Since they were in the area it shouldn't take too long to make a stop there and then report as soon as possible.

Luke sat staring at the now quiet console. After a moment, he glanced over at Chewbacca. The Wookie was staring at Luke calmly, his patient eyes never wavering.

"You heard them. However they phrased it, it was still an order."

Chewie growled acknowledgement and waited.

Luke removed his headset and fidgeted with it for a time before he made his decision. "Okay... we go to Kulang."

Chewie stirred uncomfortably, but made no comment. Luke felt a tremendous need to justify himself.

"Look... we're just stumbling blindly. Kulang is as good as anyplace else."

The Wookie whined his assessment of that planet and the odds on finding Han there.

Luke sighed. "Still... we're going there anyway." His voice grew low until he was almost talking to himself. "I don't know what else to do."

Han sat on his bunk, his head resting against the bulkhead. Damn, but the galaxy must be shrinking! How else could he keep bumping into Tatooine runaways? For being such a dust pit, the planet sure produced more than its share of starry-eyed kids, and for some unexplained reason, fate kept sticking him with them.

He kept seeing Ranny's quiet, dark eyes as the boy related his story. He could still see the hope that shone from those eyes as Ranny talked about his brother... hope that had no right being there... hope that had no possibility of reward. But how to tell the boy, asleep in the next cabin, that the big brother he was combing the galaxy for had been dead for two years?

It hadn't taken Han long to place the name Darklighter. Luke had talked about his friend Biggs often enough. What stuck uncomfortably in Han's mind was the circumstances of Darklighter's death... the Deathstar two years ago... when for reasons he still wasn't quite sure of, he'd gone to help Luke.

They'd hung a medal on him for that. Happy he'd come back at all, no one ever mentioned the fact that if he'd shown up a little earlier a few more people might've lived. Certainly Luke had never said anything and frankly, Han had never even thought about it. Now a pang of something unfamiliar stabbed at his conscience... guilt. Was he responsible for the death of Ranny's brother... Luke's best friend?

He crawled off his bunk and shuffled over to his desk. He searched through a deep drawer and pulled out a small, metal box. Quickly unlocking it, he lifted out the Alliance medal, hung on an elegant ribbon. He fingered the decoration and its engraved symbols. Then he closed the box, throwing it into the drawer. Taking the medal, he sat on the bunk.

He flipped the disk over and read the words, Courage and Honor. He gave a short bemused laugh. Courage was something he'd never given much thought. A man did what he had to do to stay alive. He never asked himself why. And honor? He'd always scoffed at Luke and his Jedi ideals. Honor had always been for others. He'd never had time for it, but here was an award for those very traits that had never fit into his lifestyle.

He stood and walked to the door of the cabin where Chewie usually slept. Ranny lay there, swallowed up in the oversized bunk. All he could see of the boy was a thatch of dark hair sticking out from the blankets. Han glanced at the medal dangling limply in his fingers. Ranny and his quest made a mockery of it that hurt more than he thought it ever could.

He was still standing there when he heard the buzz of the hatchway. He turned at the sound. It must be Donner with the shipment. He heaved a sigh. Business must go on. The spice had to go out tonight, but after this deal he would take Ranny home. News about his brother would come better from a friend. He could evade Slade long enough for that. In a strange sense he felt he owed the boy that much.

He moved away from Ranny's door, stopping long enough at his own cabin to toss the medal carelessly onto the desk. Then he walked out to greet Donner and his men.

Luke stood leaning against the warehouse building, arms folded across his chest. His eyes squinted against the glare of the sun. Gablin should be along presently. The little, rodent-like being from Korbor was supposed to meet him to report on the cessation of operations here on Kulang. Gablin had been one of three leaders here but somehow had been the only one Luke had been able to contact through regular channels. The agent had been too frightened to talk over the air, so Luke had arranged this meeting... in one of the crowded industrial sectors of Karpane, where two more people talking together would hardly be noticed.

Gablin was late. Luke shifted impatiently. He was anxious to get this matter finished, though he had to shove back a stab of guilt that Rebel business wasn't his first priority. He'd been extra restless since planetfall and he couldn't pinpoint the reason. The Force was astir and he couldn't calm himself. He kept trying to sort out his feelings, but concern for Han, worry about the Alliance, the presence of Imperial troops... all combined together to keep his mind fluttering.

A touch at his elbow nearly sent Luke into orbit. He whirled, startled out of his skin, but it was only Gablin, his whiskers twitching nervously. He was frightened by Luke's reaction as Luke had been by the touch out of nowhere.

"Blast it, Gablin. You do that again and I'll..."

"So sorry, Skywalker. Did not mean to startle you." The Rodent's voice came filtering out of a translator device he wore on his belt. "Is not safe here these days. Had to be careful."

"Okay, okay. Skip the apologies. Let's walk somewhere."

Luke set off away from the warehouses. Gablin followed after him, having to trot at times to match the human's longer strides. Their conversation was carried in low tones.

"What happened here, Gablin? Suddenly we don't hear from you people... nothing, not a word."

Gablin shook his head. "Bad... very bad. All dead. Stormtroopers come. Blast everyone."

"But you escaped?" Luke raised a curious eyebrow.

"No... no. Was not here that night. Could not come. Not safe for me to come that night. But Stormtroopers come. Kill all." A shudder convulsed through the Rodent's slight frame.

"But how did the troopers find out about the meeting?"

Gablin shrugged his shoulders. "How do they ever find out? But this time..." He shook his head in obvious disgust. "Dorset grew very careless. Talked too much. Trusted too many. Soon everyone knew about the meeting. News spreads fast. How could Troopers not know?"

"Well, he paid a high price for his talk," Luke observed drily. "What are you going to do, Gablin? Will you stay here and set things up again?"

The Rodent's snout quivered nervously. "No, no. Not safe for me here now. Must go somewhere else. Don't know yet. Will be in touch." He looked around cautiously. "Safe journey, Skywalker." Then he was gone, melting into the crowd before Luke could say anything.

The young Rebel stared after him for a time, then he sighed and set out for the docking bays. He'd have to report back to the base. He hoped they didn't want him to stick around and set things up again. That could take an awfully long time... time he didn't want to spend right now. Besides, Chewie wasn't going to be patient forever.

He'd come into the business sector of the city now, and spying a cantina, he suddenly realized how hot and thirsty he was. On impulse, he entered the bar with the intent of ordering a cool drink. He needed a minute anyway just to gather his thoughts.

He found the place unusually quiet, even for this time of day. Only a dozen or so customers were scattered around the tables and two or three people lounged at the bar. Luke sauntered up casually and leaned against the counter. The choice of beverages was limited so he took a small glass of the least potent brew and sipped at it gingerly.

He let the liquid slowly work at his parched throat and gazed calmly over the rest of the room. No one paid him any attention. Everyone was intent on either business or their own personal problems. Finding nothing of interest, he turned back to his drink, when a movement caught his eye and he did a disbelieving doubletake.

The menacing stranger from Almyre was just leaving the cantina. There was no mistaking that long switch of yellow hair or the hard, jade eyes that seemed to shine in the dimness. This mystery person was in all probability a murderer and quite possibly connected with Han's disappearance.

Luke drained his glass, wiped a sleeve across his mouth and followed the stranger out the door. He wasn't going to let the man out of his sight if there was the slightest chance he could lead them to Han. As he stepped into the sunlight he stopped, quickly searching the street for that unmistakable yellow head. The man was no where to be seen.

"Blast!" Luke muttered out loud. "He couldn't have disappeared so fast."

He moved off a little, trying to catch a different vantage point. Still nothing. There was an alley a short way down the street. Playing a hunch, Luke strode over to peer into the long, dark passageway. It was impossible to really see anything. The alley seemed to stretch on endlessly. Luke took a few, tentative steps forward but stopped when a chilling tingle swept up his spine and into his scalp, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. Perhaps he'd picked the right place after all, but walking into this blackness blindly was more than foolish.

He stood a minute, chewing his lower lip... thinking. If he left to find Chewie, the stranger would be gone... their hope of finding Han perhaps lost forever. Luke knew he couldn't count on running across this man again. He edged forward, drawing his blaster silently. The Force was sending out waves now... unmistakable and chilling. Luke was suddenly seized by an uncontrollable urge to get out of the alley as fast as possible. He took one step backward, turned around... and came face to face with the stranger from the bar.

He couldn't help letting out a startled cry. Then the man pinned him against the wall. His blaster clattered uselessly to the ground. He could feel his light saber as it bumped against his leg... out of easy reach. He might have called it to him but at the moment all his attention was focused on the man in front of him. The only thing Luke could see clearly in the darkness were the shining green eyes... hard and malevolent, but he could feel something cold and icy against his throat. His mind called up the all too vivid picture of the Friben... dead in the street with his throat slashed. He swallowed and could feel the pressure of the blade increase. He tried not to swallow again.

They stood this way for some time until Luke thought the silence would deafen them both, then the man began speaking in a low, hissing voice.

"What is your business with Solo?" The eyes never blinked.

"Who?" Luke croaked out.

The knife pressed closer still and he felt a small, warm trickle down the side of this neck. "Do not play with me, boy. I have seen you too often. We hunt the same prey. I want to know your business with that Corellian dog."

Luke thought furiously and decided the only way out would be to tell the truth... or at least a part of it. He tried desperately to calm himself. He would need all the help the Force could give him to carry off his bluff.

"I... uh..." He swallowed involuntarily... definitely a mistake. "Solo messed with my sister," he managed to gasp out. "Then he just up and left her. He hasn't been back to Tatooine since." He hoped he was playing the frightened farm boy convincingly. Of course, he wasn't really acting.

"Tatooine, huh?" The man seemed to be considering Luke's story. "Yes... I'd heard he'd been dealing there. But what about the Wookie? I know Solo was working with a Wookie for a long time. Now suddenly he's alone and I find the Wookie with you. Why?"

Luke tried frantically to come up with a suitable answer. There was nothing to do but make a stab at it. "Uh... Solo ran out on the Wookie with all the money after some big deal. We just got teamed up to find him. He owes us both."

The green eyes were silent... apparently deciding. Luke ordered his pounding heart still and tried to remain as centered as possible. Finally the hissing voice sounded again.

"I just might believe you. It would be Solo's style to run out on a partner." The knife relaxed slightly and Luke started to exhale... only to be stopped short by the sudden force of it again. "Now listen to me, farmboy. Solo is mine. I have an older claim on him, so you just go home to Tatooine and forget your vengeance. If I ever see your face again, you'll be sorry you ever crossed my path."

Luke was already sorry, but he remained silent.

"You understand me, Boy?" Luke nodded ever so slightly. "I didn't hear you."

"Yes!" he gasped.

Then, as abruptly as he had appeared, the man was gone. Luke could hear running footsteps rapidly fading down the alley, but he had no desire to follow. He sank to the ground and massaged his throat... breathing deeply with relief. He grew aware that he was trembling violently. The close brush with death and the man's aura of evil had affected him that much.

Trying to pull himself together, he climbed shakily to his feet. There was no reason the man couldn't have killed him. It would've been a simple matter. Maybe because he thought they shared a hatred of Han Solo, it had been enough to spare his life. Whatever the reason, Luke was grateful for it, but now more urgent things required his attention. Somehow he had to find Han and do it before this dark, foreboding killer. He stumbled out of the alley and onto the street, relishing the open air and sunlight as he hurried down to the docking bay. His ship and Chewie would be waiting.

Ranny came awake and found himself in a cold sweat. Sleep hadn't been easy the last few nights and his dreams had been cruel. He couldn't erase the face of the dying Rebel from his mind, and in his sleep the man became Biggs. They all became Biggs and he would watch helplessly as his brother died over and over again. Finally, when he could take no more, he would force himself awake, and he would have to sit alone in the dark cabin... wanting desperately to cry, but unable to even find relief in tears.

This night it was worse than ever. The reality of waking up wasn't stilling the horror of the dream. He couldn't stay here by himself any longer. He crawled down from the tremendous bunk and padded over to the door. If life had been normal, he would've been home, in his own bed, sneaking quietly down the hall to Biggs' room. His brother had always been understanding and never chided him for being scared of bad dreams, but then, if he were at home with Biggs, he wouldn't be having these terrible nightmares.

The Falcon's corridors were dimly lit and Ranny crept softly toward Captain Solo's quarters. The door was open and the dark rooms were empty. That could only mean the Cap was awake and prowling around somewhere. Ranny moved off in the direction of the cockpit, hoping to find the Cap there.

The cockpit was even less illuminated than the rest of the ship. The only light was what came from the various panels and gauges. Ranny stood in the doorway, straining to see. Shortly, as his eyes adjusted, he could make out the still figure of Captain Solo. He was leaning back as far as the confining pilot's seat would allow. His head was resting in his left hand, his elbow propped on the arm rest. It sure didn't seem to Ranny to be a comfortable way to sleep if that's what he was trying to do.

As he stood there, trying to decide whether or not to bother his friend, Han jerked his head up with a start. He swung around to peer at Ranny for a moment, then motioned at the co-pilot's seat.

"C'mon in," he invited, then watched in amusement as Ranny struggled into the huge chair. "Couldn't sleep, huh?"

Ranny gave his head a shake as he gazed around the cockpit, obviously fascinated by all the hardware.

"Well... might as well keep me company for a while. Gets kinda lonesome with nobody but the computer to talk to. It's not that great at conversation."

Ranny gave Han a timid smile. "Do you always stay up here?"

"Nope, but I wanted to keep an eye out this trip. Thought I caught someone tailing us earlier. Guess I was wrong."

"Why would anybody want to follow us?"

Han considered his answer carefully. No use scaring the kid more than he already was. He grinned.

"I thought by now you'd have figured that I'm not... let's just say not entirely on the up and up. Sometimes the Imperials get their noses outta joint about it. Entirely too temperamental if you ask me."

Ranny gave a short laugh. "You must be pretty brave to risk getting the Empire mad at you."

"Brave?" The smile left Han's face. "Kid, I ain't brave. Just a little smarter than some and a whole lot luckier than most. It don't take courage to do what I do."

"My brother's brave. I'll bet he's the most courageous man there is. I'm going to be just like him." Ranny stared into his lap. "That's why I have to find him."

Han was silent for a moment, thinking. He wasn't exactly skilled at this kind of thing. He tried to chose the right words.

"You know, Ran... you don't have to fight in a war to be brave."

Ranny looked at him curiously. Han went on, uncomfortable in the counselor role he'd assumed.

"Sometimes it takes more courage just to live the way the people you love would want you to."

Ranny sat quietly, waiting... for what, Han wasn't quite sure. He racked his brain for another way to put it.

"Listen... did it ever occur to you that your brother may not want you with him? Easy now... don't get mad?" Ranny had started to sputter indignantly. "What I mean is, your brother's doing something very dangerous. Maybe he wants you home... safe... where he doesn't have to constantly worry about you."

"Not Biggs. He wouldn't send me home. You don't understand 'cause you don't know my brother." Ranny sat there, challenging Han to contradict him.

"Maybe not," was all Han murmured.

There was a heavy silence. Finally Han spoke again... reluctant to dampen the boy's enthusiastic spirit, but knowing he must be prepared for when he eventually learned the truth.

"There's another thing you haven't considered."

"What?"

"What if your brother's already dead?"

Ranny jerked his head back. "No! He's not! He can't be." The last was almost a plea for it not to be so.

Han's voice was soft and gentle. "Rebels die every day, Ranny. The Imperials wouldn't spare somebody just because he's your brother. Those men you saw die probably all had families. The Empire doesn't care... not one bit." He gazed out at the stars. "Everybody gets hurt."

Ranny studied the sharp profile of Han's face. "Not Biggs, Cap. Not that way."

Hearing the desperation in the boy's voice, Han turned back. Ranny was frightened. It wouldn't do any good to keep pushing.

"You're probably right, but there are lots of ways to die... none of them good."

"I know. But Biggs... if you knew him, Cap, you'd understand what I mean. If Biggs ever gets killed it will be in a ship... flying. My brother's a real shooting star. That's what he calls himself. Shooting stars don't get shot down in the street like animals."

Something inside of Han urged him to change the subject. Ranny was coming too close to home now. It was time to steer things to safer ground.

"So your brother's a pilot, huh? Do you like to fly?"

"Sure I do, but I'm not as good as Biggs." Even in the dark, Han could see the grin that had broken out on Ranny's face. "Biggs went to the Academy and everything. I was going to go there too, but I guess I won't be able to now."

"Who knows, kid. Wars don't last forever." Han broke off suddenly and leaned forward, peering intently at the scanners.

"What is it, Cap?"

"I'm not sure." Han reached over and worked at the navicomputer, then he began muttering, as if to himself. "He's hovering just out of range. Could be nothing, but I don't like it. I think maybe we'll take a little detour." He noted the alarm on the boy's face and gave him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. I can lose anybody."

"I'm not worried."

"Great. Hang on now." Han reached out a hand but paused and gave Ranny a curious look. "You know... it's easier with two. Wanna co-pilot for me?"

Ranny looked incredulous. "You mean it?"

"Sure. I'm not used to working alone. Here... just take hold of these levers. They're the main drive throttles. When I tell you, pull 'em back all the way... until they're locked. You got that?"

"Yes, Sir." Ranny grabbed the throttles eagerly.

Han worked a few adjustments, then nodded to Ranny. "Okay... now."

Ranny pulled back, locking the levers in place, then looked up... out at the view of space. Han smiled to himself at the sight of the boy staring open-mouthed as the stars melted and space dissolved around them.

Luke stood at the bottom of the loading ramp, drumming his fingers impatiently on the support strut. Chewie should've been here hours ago. When he'd arrived at the docking bay, breathless from running, he'd expected to find the Wookie, but the ship had been empty. With no other choice, he'd waited, anxious to tell Chewie what had happened in the alley. After a few hours however, the inactivity was almost too much to bear.

His exasperation was forgotten in an instant though, when he spied the Wookie loping across the bay, bellowing excitedly. Obviously something important had occurred. Chewie arrived at the ship in a state of elation and he grabbed Luke up in an affectionate hug.

"Chewie," Luke gasped out, his voice muffled against the Wookie's furry chest. "Chewie... put me down. I can't breathe."

The Wookie obeyed instantly and Luke stood, trying to catch his breath.

"Now... what's happened? What's all the excitement?"

Chewie let loose a happy howl.

"You found him?" Luke asked, not daring to hope it was true.

Chewie tried to calm himself enough to explain. The fast clipped Wookie babble that followed came almost too rapidly for Luke to understand. He tried several times to get his friend to slow down, then finally exploded in exasperation.

"Chewie! You've got to go slower. I'm not getting it at all."

Chewie grunted then continued at a slower pace. Luke was able to get out the facts that Han had been here, taken out a shipment for a man called Donner and had left for Arlanta two days ago.

"Chewie, that's great! I can't believe it!"

The Wookie's enthusiasm was contagious and threatened to sweep Luke along with it, but the memory of the alley pushed itself to the front of his mind and overshadowed everything else. He sobered noticeably. Chewie saw the change in Luke's expression and was puzzled.

In low, quiet tones, Luke related what had happened with the strange man. Chewie's face grew dark and worried... all joy cancelled by the ominous meeting.

"How long to Arlanta?" Luke asked him.

Chewie considered for a moment, then glanced up at the Victory, making an assessment. He grunted his reply that ordinarily it would take five days, but that they could make it in four.

Luke smiled and quietly accepted the compliment to his ship. "Okay. We can get started as soon as you take me to Donner."

Chewie whined a question.

Luke's face was very serious. "Because we've already seen what the man is capable of doing back on Almyre. I'm lucky to be alive. If he finds Donner, he'll kill him."

Chewie snorted his opinion on how much of a loss that would be to the galaxy. Luke gave the Wookie a stern glance. "That's not our decision to make. We owe him a chance at least. We have to warn him."

Chewie didn't agree and was definitely displeased, but he knew how inflexible Luke could be when he set his mind on something. He growled his reluctant understanding.

Luke sealed up the ship, then followed Chewie out of the bay and into the main sector of the city. It seemed to Luke that the Wookie was walking faster than necessary. He was panting already from trying to match the long strides, but he knew Chewie was angry with him and this was probably a way of getting even. Luke kept quiet and trotted alongside his furry companion.

Presently, Chewie slowed his pace. Thankful for the break, Luke took the time to survey his surroundings. They must be in the business district. Small shops and warehouses crowded the streets. Chewie halted at a busy intersection.

"What is it?" Luke asked, trying to see over the multitudes of beings milling about the streets.

The Wookie pointed to the next block and whined out a word of caution. Luke nodded his agreement and the two began an inconspicuous stroll down the street... stopping occasionally to gaze into window displays. When they'd finally reached the curio shop, they stood outside for several minutes admiring different items before deciding to go in.

Luke stepped in first, with Chewie close behind him. Curiously, there was no one minding the store. It was an open invitation for the vast numbers of thieves that frequented the area.

"Hello?" Luke called out. "Anybody here?" There was no answer. Luke glanced over at Chewie.

The Wookie pointed to an unobtrusive door behind the counter. A terrible feeling of dread was creeping into Luke's mind. He feared they were already too late.

Chewie walked boldly behind the counter and tested the door. It opened easily... another bad sign. The Wookie growled uneasily. Luke came up and assumed the lead. After sliding the door all the way open, he took a cautious step into the back room. His hand clutched his light sabre where it hung on his belt.

The room they entered was almost twice as large as the front shop. Crates of inventory lined the numerous shelves, but there was still extra space... too much for just added stock, but since Donner also ran illegal spice operations, he didn't pause to wonder about it. He moved across the room, his eyes searching every corner.

When he'd traversed the entire length, he stopped abruptly. Chewie growled softly behind him. The Wookie'd seen it too. Behind a row of shelves, a pair of legs stuck out in plain view. Luke knew instantly that it was Donner and that he was dead. They had failed.

Feeling somehow compelled, Luke walked quietly over and knelt beside the body. Donner lay on his side, his clothes dirty and torn, though none of the grime appeared recent. The dead man looked just what he'd been... a cheap-shot, low class spice dealer, but even so, the fresh slash wound across his throat didn't belong there. No one deserved a death like this.

Chewie grunted his disgust. When Luke made no move to get up, the Wookie grabbed Luke's arm, trying to prod the boy into action. Luke was still reluctant. Chewie gave a shot series of grunts, reminding Luke they had to get to Han first.

Luke turned away from the body and slowly got to his feet. Too many people were dying. He felt he was running a race against a deadly clock and he was always a minute behind where he should be. He suddenly had to force from his mind a mental image of Han lying in front of him, his throat slashed. He couldn't let that happen... he wouldn't let it happen.

"Let's go."

They started for the door when a sound from the shop halted them in their tracks. There was no way of telling who it might be, but if they were caught here with a corpse, there would be endless hours of questioning... maybe even imprisonment.

Chewie glanced furtively around the room then he gripped Luke's shoulder. He moved soundless toward the exit. Luke wasted no time in following him. Once outside, they hastened down the alleyway. They emerged onto the busy street and quickly blended in with the throng of people. They weren't disturbed all the way back to the docking bay.

The space port on Arlanta, usually efficient and fast-paced, was a veritable mire of confusion and back-logged ships, all waiting for service. Striking dock workers had caused the size of the work staff to dwindle considerably, making for immeasurably long waiting periods and terribly short tempers.

Han's was no cooler than anyone else's. He'd been counting on dumping this shipment and heading out as soon as possible. He didn't like being a sitting target for anybody's eyes, let alone a relentless tracker like Slade. He watched impatiently as the last of the spice was hauled away from the Falcon's hold. Then he let out a relieved sigh. At least that was out of the way, even if it had taken two days. He turned to Ranny who'd come up to stand beside him.

"That takes care of that. I always breathe easier when they take it away."

"Then why do you do it, Cap?"

"Hell, kid..." Han laughed. "It's a living, I guess. Plus every load I deliver safe means less money in the Emperor's pocket. I need it more than he does anyway."

Ranny laughed. "You should join the Rebellion."

"Pipe down, Ran," Han quickly hushed him. "You want the whole galaxy to hear you?"

"Sorry," the boy apologized sheepishly.

"That okay. Just be careful what you say. You never know who's listening." Han affectionately tousled the top of the boy's dark head. Ranny smiled up at him shyly.

"I'll be careful."

"Great. Then I won't worry about you while I'm gone."

"Where you going?"

"I've got some business in town."

Ranny gave Han a conspiratorial grin. "What kind of business, Cap?"

Han's eyebrows lifted in feigned innocence. "Why... only the most legit, Ranny my boy." He gave in and broke into a crooked smile. "I can't leave empty-bellied. Can't afford to. I want you to stay here and watch the ship for me."

"But Cap... I have to find the Rebels."

Han gave him a stern look. "What did you just promise?"

"I know... I know. But I still have to..."

"Listen... you won't find any Rebels here. Too many Imperials."

Ranny didn't seem convinced. "I still have to try," he persisted.

Han considered his reply. "Okay... I'll make you a deal. You stay here till I get back, then I'll help you look. Maybe I can keep you outta trouble."

"Honest, Cap?"

"Sure. Is it a deal?" Han held out his hand.

"You bet." Ranny took the offered hand and gave it a hard shake.

"Okay." Han smiled warmly then grew more serious. "I want you to stay inside the ship and keep her closed up tight. If the men ever show up with our supplies, check their identification first, then let them go ahead and load. The vouchers are on the desk in my cabin. I shouldn't be too long."

"Don't worry. I'll take care of everything. You can depend on me."

"I know I can. Just..."

"Be careful," Ranny finished for him with a laugh. "I know."

"All right, wise guy. You just remember it." He jabbed a finger at Ranny's chest for emphasis. Then, with a quick wink, he started off to meet his connection.

Ranny watched him go then, obeying orders, he walked up the ramp and pressed the stud to close and lock the hatch.

The Cap had said the vouchers were on his desk. Ranny walked to the aft part of the ship where the cabins were. He'd never been in Han's quarters, but he'd always been intensely curious. Now he had permission. He felt the thrill of entering a forbidden domain.

Timidly, he stepped inside the doorway and activated the light. His eyes darted around the room, taking in everything... from the neatly made bunk to the disarrayed desk. There was a framed holo hanging on the far wall and Ranny moved closer to inspect it. The Cap was there and with him was a huge, hairy creature. Ranny recognized it as a Wookie, though he'd never seen one in person. From the looks on their faces, the two were good friends. Ranny's mind flashed to the oversized bunk and the modified co-pilot's seat... all made to accommodate someone of tremendous size. Had the Wookie been the Cap's co-pilot? Ranny wondered what happened to him. Obviously there were a lot of things about Captain Solo that Ranny could only begin to guess at.

Feeling he'd intruded long enough, he walked back to the desk. There were the vouchers like the Cap had said. He gathered them up and started to go, when something fell to the floor at his feet with a clunk.

Worried that he'd broken something, Ranny set the papers down and bent to pick up the fallen object. It shone brightly in the cabin light and was heavy in his hands. A green ribbon hung between his fingers. It was a medal of some kind, but for what? The Cap had made it clear he was out only for himself. Ranny traced a curious finger over the delicately engraved sunburst. Then he turned the medal over and gasped in surprise. There, etched on the back, was the same symbol he'd seen whenever he'd encountered Rebels. The same flare of regal wings on a noble bird. What in all the galaxy was the Cap doing with a Rebel medal? A thought flashed briefly through his mind that the Cap had stolen it... robbed some wounded warrior, but he pushed it away as being ridiculous. Whatever the Cap was... smuggler, outlaw, pirate... he wasn't a thief.

Ranny read the two words that encircled the symbol... courage and honor. Those two words summed up for Ranny everything the Rebellion stood for... everything Biggs was fighting for. How could the Cap possibly be connected with Rebels? Not that he was a bad man... Ranny liked him an awful lot, but he'd never pictured him along with the dedicated soldiers that always came to his mind when he thought of the Rebellion. It was all very confusing.

A buzz at the hatchway caused Ranny to jump guiltily. It must be the loaders with the supplies. He placed the medal carefully on the desk, grabbed up the vouchers and hurried to the comline. After verifying the men's identification Ranny opened the hatch and walked out to conduct the business.

"Captain Solo says to go ahead and load. Here are his vouchers." Ranny held out the papers.

One of the burly workers grabbed the documents from the boy's hand. Quickly scanning them to make sure they were in order, he stuffed them into his sweat-soaked shirt pocket. Then he gestured to the supplies.

"There they are. Everything you ordered. See ya around." He grabbed at his partner. "C'mon, Jocko."

The two men started to walk off. Ranny stared after them in dismay. Finally he ran down the ramp and called after them.

"Hey... wait! You're supposed to load this stuff!"

"Load it yourself, kid. We're swamped."

The men quickly disappeared out the door. Feeling terribly cheated, Ranny watched them go. With a resigned sigh, he turned to the supply crates. It would take him forever to load everything... that was, if he could lift the heavy boxes, but he would give it a try.

Han sat at a corner table, slowly sipping at his drink. His contact hadn't shown yet and he was anxious to get back to the ship. He didn't like leaving Ranny alone... not with Slade on the loose.

He searched the room carefully. Still no sign of anybody. His eyes scanned the crowd coming into the cantina and what he saw almost made him choke. There was no mistaking that hulking form. It was Chewie... and Luke was probably close by. Han raised up out of his chair for a better look. Yep. There he was... that sandy hair and farmboy face easy to pick out. What in the name of heaven were they doing here? He hadn't heard of any Rebel activity on Arlanta.

He sat and ducked his head, hoping they hadn't spotted him. It was too much to ask. Even as he did so, his two friends began shoving their way in his direction. Not that he wasn't glad to see them. He'd missed them both more than he'd realized. But he'd run out specifically to keep them out of his problems. He couldn't let them get involved now. He downed his drink and prepared himself for the unpleasant showdown that had to come.

"What the hell do you want?" was the greeting he gave them and his heart cringed as he watched the happy smile fade from Luke's face.

Chewie growled questioningly.

"Stow it," he snapped at the Wookie, then faced Luke. "I asked you a question." He willed the coldness to his voice, the steel into his eyes.

Luke was very quiet as he answered. "We came looking for you, Han. We thought you might need some help."

"Help?" he sneered. "That'll be the day. I don't need anybody's help. Now, get outta here and leave me alone."

The Wookie barked at him sharply and Han knew he was upset.

"Wait, Chewie." Luke placed a placating hand on Chewie's arm. "Han... why you left is your own business I guess. We did come to help you, but we can't force you to let us. You should know however, that we ran into an old friend of yours. He's searching for you. He's probably here already since he got the jump on us."

Han's eyes instantly flickered around the room. Luke caught the gesture.

"You know he's after you then?"

"Yeah. But it's my business and I'll thank you to stay out of it. I can take care of myself."

Chewie snorted and Han gave him a hard look. Luke took a seat opposite Han and stared at him intently.

"We want to help, Han. Look... this guy's killed two people already."

"He's killed a lot more than that, kid. If he scares you, go away. I didn't invite you here."

Luke was beginning to grow exasperated. After all the weeks of searching, he hadn't expected this. He tried to calm himself... to reach out, feel what Han was feeling. What he got was an intense wave of barely controlled fear and panic. He leaned across the table and took hold of Han's arm.

The Corellian instantly shook it off and sprang from his seat, trying to look as angry as possible. If Slade was watching, he would see that these two meant nothing to Han Solo. They wouldn't be worth killing.

"Just get outta here, both of you. Can't you see you're bothering me? I got business to take care of." He'd raised his voice so that everyone within earshot could hear.

Chewie's ferocious roar caused the whole place to fall silent. Han could tell Chewie was very angry with him. He'd heard that tone so seldom that it shook him severely when he did. The last time in fact, had been at the base on Yavin's moon, when the Wookie had thought he was deserting Luke and the Rebellion. It hurt to have either one of them think badly of him, but it couldn't be helped... not now. Now something drastic had to be done to get them out of his hair. He didn't want to have to worry about them. Luke however, was not going to be easily swayed. He and his Jedi mumbo jumbo obviously wasn't buying Han's pretended anger.

"Han, please. Let us help you."

He reached out once more for Han's arm. Gritting his teeth at what he was about to do, Han balled up his fist and swung. He connected with Luke's jaw harder than he'd intended, sending his young friend smashing into the next table and making his own arm ache from the jolt of the impact.

He heard a menacing growl and looked from Luke to Chewie just in time to see the massive paw come swinging at him. He had no time to duck and he, in turn, was sent sprawling against the wall. His head was spinning and stars swam before his eyes. He could feel the blood streaming from his nose. The blow had been tempered. He'd seen Chewie's enormous strength crack skulls and break necks, but in all their years together the Wookie had never hit him... not once during all their countless quarrels and endless bickering. It cut him to the heart that now, of all times, his friend should turn on him.

Somehow he staggered to his feet. Tears stung his eyes but he willed them away. He wiped at his nose with the back of his hand and stared at the blood there. Then he looked up at Chewie. He could tell that the Wookie was already sorry for his loss of temper, but Han couldn't let the advantage slip out of his hand. He faced his dearest friend with anger, not quite feigned. His eyes narrowed to the merest slits.

"Get outta my sight, you hairy bastard. If I ever see you again, I'll blast a hole through your hide."

Chewie let loose a plaintive growl and took a step forward. Han could feel the tears trying to force their way to the surface. Knowing he couldn't control them much longer and with the utmost hatred of what he was doing, he reached for his holster and pulled out his blaster, leveling it at Chewie.

"Do I make myself clear? Or do you need a translator?"

Chewie stared at him balefully for a moment, not believing what was happening, but Luke had risen now and came to Chewie's side.

"C'mon. Let's get to the ship," he said, never once taking his eyes off Han. He started for the exit, pushing the forlorn Wookie ahead of him.

Han watched them go, still fighting the urge to call them back. Then he reholstered his blaster with resignation. He'd done what he had to do. They would be safe now, though he wondered if things could ever really be the same again.

Luke had reached the door and he stopped for one last glance at his friend. He watched as Han lowered his head and sat down. Then the Corellian folded his arms across the table and leaned his forehead on them. Luke yearned to go back, but Han had made it clear he wasn't welcome. For some reason he had to face this thing alone. Luke respected his decision. Han was a grown man and, as Leia had told him once, had to follow his own path. But as Luke left the cantina, he once more felt that tremendous sense of fear... only this time it was nearly overshadowed by a profound sorrow.

Han sat resting his head on his arms for a long time. How long, he wasn't sure. He was so tired. He couldn't go on playing this game of hide-n-seek with Slade. It was taking too much out of him... more than he was willing to give.

As he sat there, mulling over the situation, his ears pricked up at a sound. It was nothing definite, yet some extra sense warned him of danger. He hadn't survived in the most dangerous game in the galaxy by ignoring these subtle alerts. He didn't move a muscle, but he strained to hear any kind of sign of where the danger was coming from.

There it was again. There was no mistaking the sound of a blaster on charge. Han mentally ticked off three seconds, then suddenly exploded into action. He dove from his chair only a split second before the laser bolt that splintered the wall behind him. The cantina erupted into chaos as creatures of all kinds tried to find cover or get out altogether.

Han scrambled on all fours to duck behind an overturned table... the persistent fire chasing his heels. Safe for a moment, he drew his own weapon... the feel of its cold metal in his hand a familiar comfort, but it alone was not enough. He needed an edge. Slade could wait him out... watch his every move. If this confrontation remained one-sided, he could say goodbye right now.

He wiped his face on his sleeve to clear the sweat from his eyes and winced as he brushed his swollen nose. His gaze ran across what part of the room he could see from his meager shelter. They came to rest on the overhead lighting fixtures. It wasn't the most brilliant solution, but at least it would even the odds a little bit.

Desperately praying that he was remembering right, Han sprang to his knees, bringing his blaster up over the table's edge and fired a fast round in the direction of the deserted bar. His luck held. The main control system exploded with a shower of sparks. The lights in the cantina flickered and died. Han dove and rolled away from the table as a blast of energy tore it into fragments.

Han bit his lip against the pain as white hot shards of metal imbedded in his arms and neck. He lay deathly still where he'd stopped rolling, trying to hear Slade's movements. For countless minutes there wasn't a sound. The air hung heavy with smoke... the cantina was stifling hot. Han's shirt, damp with perspiration, clung to him uncomfortably. He could feel the tiny rivulets of sweat running down his back. Finally, unable to endure any more waiting, he took a chance.

"Slade!" he called out sharply.

The only answer was a barrage of blaster fire in his direction. Han barely avoided it... the heat from the bolts scorching his face.

"Damn it, Slade! Listen to me!"

He waited. There were no shots. Then a low voice came from a far corner of the cantina.

"There is no use talking," Slade hissed. "My course is clear. I will have my revenge."

"Revenge for what?"

A shot sounded, causing Han to duck, but he still pressed his opponent.

"Revenge for what? For not going to Kessel with you? What good would that have done? You were caught with the goods. I got the hell out of there. Wasn't any use going down with you. I wouldn't do that for a friend, let alone... Hell, Slade... you and me... we weren't exactly friends now, were we?"

"It doesn't matter," came the reply. "I spent ten years in that retched hole. Someone has to pay."

It was obvious that reasoning wouldn't work. Slade was too far entrenched in his own world of vengeance to listen. Han frantically searched for another way out. His gaze happened to fall upon the splintered table. It lay in scattered pieces. It could be just the thing if he timed it right.

As quietly as he could, he crawled back over to the table. Straining to see, he found a piece that seemed the right size. He hefted it a few times in his left hand. Then, with blaster ready, aimed where he'd last heard Slade, Han tossed the metal object across the room. It clattered noisily against the chairs.

Instantly there was a round of blaster fire aimed at the sound. Han, concentrating on its source, fired at the slightly illuminated figure of Slade. There was a high-pitched cry and Han heard a clatter and then a thud. The cantina fell silent once more.

Cautiously, wary of a ploy, Han moved toward the fallen form. As he neared, his foot hit against something and it scraped on the floor. He reached down and found a blaster. He tossed it across the room and bent over Slade.

The man was still alive, though his labored breathing and soft moans spoke of approaching death. As Han watched, Slade's eyelids fluttered open, revealing the brilliant jade eyes. Even near death, there was a malevolence in them that caused Han to shudder. Slade had always affected him like this. Miraculously, the dying man found the strength to talk.

"You were always better with a blaster than I. I considered this and compensated."

Han's brow furled in confusion. "What are you talking about? It's over, Slade."

The man was wheezing now, barely able to get the words out. "So you... you may think. I may not have killed you but... I will have... destroyed you... nonetheless." An evil laugh sounded from Slade's twisted mouth. "Even now... you are too late. Your precious ship... is no doubt nothing but... but a pile of debris. Oh... and that little cabin boy... along with it. No doubt... he was in the... ship." A spasm of coughing racked the lean body, silencing the tirade.

Han, all too aware of Slade's capabilities, felt a rise of panic. He grabbed the man's collar, lifting him off the floor.

"What did you do? Slade?"

He shook him, but by the way the man's head lolled back, Han knew he would get nothing more out of him. Slade... the enemy who'd chased him half way across the galaxy, was dead... a smug smile still on his lips, but he wasn't finished. Somehow Slade had been confident he could reach out, even from death, and crush the life Han had built for himself.

Something about his ship... and Ranny. Han suddenly remembered his strict instructions to the boy to stay in the Falcon. Visions of catastrophe raced through his mind. Slade had said he was too late. But he couldn't be. He wasn't going to let anything happen to the boy because of him.

Jamming his weapon into his holster, Han rushed for the exit. There was a multitude of curious onlookers gathered around the cantina. Han violently shoved his way through them. Anybody who tried to stop him was going to get his fist in their face.

Speed was of the essence. As soon as he was free of the crowd, Han broke into a breakneck run, knocking over any hapless creature who got in his way. He wasn't out of shape exactly, but his body wasn't used to this kind of demand. As he rushed passed shops, warehouses and offices, his legs grew numb... his lungs burned with each ragged breath. With each stride his body called for him to stop, but he paid it no heed. Ranny's life was at stake... and in his state of desperation he never realized that the fate of the Falcon was the farthest thing from his mind.

Luke stood in the entryway to the Victory's cockpit and regarded Chewie thoughtfully. The Wookie was sulking and Luke felt at his wit's end. The only thing he could think of was to keep trying to reason with him.

"C'mon, Chewie. You know he didn't mean any of that stuff in the cantina."

The Wookie continued to fidget with the co-pilot's controls, ignoring his young friend's comments.

"Couldn't you see it, Chewie? He was afraid. It was in his eyes... his voice. Couldn't you feel it?"

The earnest sincerity in Luke's voice caused the Wookie to stop his work and look up. He seemed to consider the words a moment, then turned back to the console. He grunted his opinion of a friend who pulled a blaster on another friend.

Luke exhaled noisily. "You two deserve each other."

He stared to leave when he suddenly tensed. Chewie turned to see what was wrong. Luke seemed to be far away somewhere. His eyes were glazed and vacant. Alarmed, Chewie rose from his seat and moved toward his troubled friend. He grabbed Luke's arm, but abruptly the young Rebel seemed himself again. He looked up at the Wookie, concern radiating from his blue eyes.

"Han's in trouble. I'm going to help him whether he wants me to or not. You can stay here if you like."

With that, Luke rushed out of the ship. Chewie stood, hesitating... torn between his pride and his feelings for Han. It was only a moment before he was running after Luke.

Ranny struggled vainly to keep the heavy crate balanced on his knee while he reached up toward the open hold to make room. With a great thud, the box slid off its precarious perch and crashed to the floor. Frustrated almost to the point of tears, Ranny kicked at the crate and then plopped down on it, resting his chin in his hands. He'd tried his best to load the supplies after the harried workers had deserted him, but since he didn't know how to operate the loading equipment, he'd gotten very little accomplished.

At the sudden shouting of his name, he lifted his head to see Captain Solo rushing toward him from across the main entry to the bay. Ranny was frightened by his friend's appearance. The Cap was dirty and sweat-streaked... blood smeared across his face. His hair was in wild disarray and his eyes were wide and frantic. Ranny's first thoughts were to run away and he stood up, preparing to do just that, when Han reached him and swept him off his feet... carrying him away from the ship.

A thunderous explosion rocked the docking bay. For an instant, Ranny thought the whole planet was being torn apart. Then he was slammed violently to the ground. Something heavy fell on top of him, knocking him breathless. He was vaguely aware of the rushing of blood in his ears and the constant ringing in his head. Then the world went black.

For what seemed an eternity, Ranny drifted in and out of darkness. Then he grew aware of himself again. At first, he thought he was dead. His whole body was numb. Then he realized that he was having trouble breathing. Whatever had landed on him was making it difficult to even move.

He slowly twisted his head to one side. At the movement, he heard a soft moan. The Cap! It must be the Cap who had fallen on him. He stopped and listened intently, then he sighed in relief. He'd heard shallow breathing. At least the Cap was still alive. That was something, though Ranny was at a loss to explain what had happened.

He'd lost track of all time when abruptly Han's weight was lifted off of him. The blood rushed back painfully into his limbs. Ranny felt strong arms gently turn him over and a searing pain shot down his arm. He cried out, despite his best effort not to. He head a soft voice speak to him soothingly.

"It's okay. Easy now."

Then he was lying in those arms. Curious about who this kind rescuer was, Ranny opened his eyes and found himself looking straight into the face of Luke Skywalker. As the young Rebel from Tatooine blinked in recognition of the boy in his arms, it was hard to say who was more surprised.

After a long moment, Luke found his voice. "Ranny?" he whispered in disbelief.

"Luke! We thought you were dead." Ranny wasn't even aware of the tears that fell from his astonished eyes.

Luke merely smiled... his own eyes misty, his voice untrustworthy.

Another thought suddenly flashed through Ranny's mind. He struggled to sit up, though his arm pained him with every movement.

"Where's the Cap? Is he all right?"

"Relax," Luke admonished him. "Chewie's got him."

Ranny could now see Han's unconscious body being tenderly cradles in the arms of a huge Wookie. As he watched, the creature walked slowly towards the Falcon. Debris lay in scattered heaps all around her, but to Ranny's surprise, the ship was still intact.

"What happened?" he asked in bewilderment.

Luke now stood, careful not to cause any more movement than was necessary. He glanced around the wrecked bay.

"Some kind of bomb planted in the supply load," he informed the boy as he carried him into the ship. "Good thing the crates hadn't been loaded yet. Hate to think what might've happened if it had gone off inside the ship."

Ranny remained silent until Luke brought him to his bunk and laid him down. He was fairly bursting with questions, but Luke wouldn't let him ask them.

"Later," he told him sternly. "We've got a lot to talk about, but not now."

He stood next to where Ranny lay. For a moment their eyes met, each searching for something. Then Luke gave him an affectionate smile and placed a tender hand on his forehead.

"Go to sleep now, Ranny. You need to rest."

And for some reason, as much as he ordered them not to, Ranny's eyelids closed and sleep washed over him.

When he finally woke up, he found his arm tightly bandaged to his side. He slowly sat upright, waited a bit for the dizziness to pass, and then glanced around. It was the same cabin he'd always used. He noticed a chair had been pulled up next to his bed, as if someone had kept watch while he slept, but it was vacant now. Ranny slipped out of bed and shuffled over to the door. He wanted desperately to see the Cap, to make sure he was all right.

There seemed to be no one about, though Ranny spied a soft light coming from Han's cabin. He crept quietly down the corridor and into the room. There was the Cap, lying beneath the blankets... his face in shadow. As Ranny came closer, he could see the right side of Han's face was swollen and discolored. Small gashes covered his neck and shoulder. Impulsively, he reached for the limp hand, taking it in his. He breathed a sigh of relief to find it warm and alive. He'd been so afraid.

A slight movement in the corner of the room caught his attention and he turned to find the Wookie watching him from where he sat in the darkness. Fear pulsed through him momentarily, but he remembered the picture on the wall and the tenderness with which the creature had carried the Cap into the ship and he was at once unafraid.

"Don't wake him," came a hushed voice and Ranny glanced over his shoulder to see Luke come in and take a seat at the desk.

"I won't," Ranny whispered back. "I just had to see him. That's all."

He turned back to gaze down at Han. Everything was a puzzle in his mind... all the pieces a scramble. He tried to sort them out... to make sense out of them.

He remembered Luke... gone and thought dead the same day Biggs had left, now out here in space, alive and friends with the Cap. Biggs' talk with Luke about the Rebellion, the Cap's medal. Hadn't the Cap told him he'd find no Rebels on Arlanta? How could he be so sure? And then things crystallized at once, coming sharply into focus. Only now, he remembered too much... other things the Cap had said. What if your brother's already dead? There are a lot of ways to die. So many little ways of telling him.

Suddenly he knew. Without turning away from Han, he asked, "How did Biggs die, Luke?"

There was a silence... too long. Ranny turned and saw Luke's blue eyes tear filled and full of sorrow. And he remembered how much his brother had meant to Luke.

"Remember the Deathstar Battle a couple of years back?" Luke's voice was husky with the memory... still obviously painful, even after so long. "His X-Wing was destroyed by an Imperial TIE fighter."

Ranny turned away and Luke could see the boy's shoulders convulse once and then again. He was trying to be so brave about it, but Luke knew the pain he was suffering. He reached out and, as if Ranny were five instead of twelve, pulled him into his lap. And, as if he were five, Ranny lay his head against Luke's shoulder and wept... for the brother taken from him so unfairly, for the strong arm he would never feel come down on his shoulder, for the rich laughter that would never again sound in their house or echo off a canyon wall. For all these things he cried, and for the injustice of it.

Luke held him close, waiting until the storm of tears had abated somewhat. Then, in soft, reassuring voice, he began talking about Tatooine... about skyhopper races and speeders, sandstorms and vaporaters. And about shooting stars.

Han stood at the bottom of the Falcon's ramp, leaning against Chewie. Ranny was quiet at his side. Neither had spoken much. There didn't seem to be anything to say. Soon Luke appeared at the entrance to the docking bay, accompanied by two men. Leaving them at the door, Luke moved back over to join his friends.

"Those men are going to take you to Tatooine, Ranny. I've checked them out. They've got a good ship. You'll be okay."

Ranny stood with his eyes downcast. "I still wish I could stay with all of you." He glanced up hopefully at Han, who only averted his eyes.

Luke sighed. "We've already been through that. You have to go home. Your family needs you."

Ranny heaved his shoulders in resignation. "I know. But I want to do something for Biggs."

"You are doing something for Biggs," Luke quietly pointed out. "You're taking care of your family. Here, I have something for you."

Luke reached inside his jacket and pulled out a shining object. He held it out for Ranny to inspect, then placed it in the boy's hand and closed his fingers over it. It was a medal, just like the one on Han's desk.

"This was for Biggs." Luke glanced up at Han briefly then at Ranny. "I was going to bring it to your family after the war, but now you can take it and keep it safe."

Ranny studied the medal, cast a quick glance at Han, then turned back to Luke. "Okay. I'll do that." He slipped the medal into his pocket. Then he held out his hand to Luke, who grasped it in a regretful farewell.

"Goodbye, Ranny. I'll try and keep in touch."

"Goodbye, Luke."

Ranny then moved over to Han. He didn't want to say goodbye. He struggled to stall for time... to put off the farewell.

"Did you know my brother, Cap?" Han shook his head. "You would've liked him." Tears had started to slip from Ranny's eyes.

"I'm sure I would have, Ran. If he was anything like you."

Ranny suddenly threw his arms around Han's waist, burying his face in the Corellian's shirt. Han glanced away for a moment, not sure how to handle the boy's tears and completely at a loss what to do about his own. Finally he ran a hand through the mop of dark hair. Ranny lifted his head and Han eased his sore body onto one knee to look Ranny in the eye.

"Look" he began. "I'll make you a deal. You go home and grow up and study and learn all you can. Do all the things you're supposed to do. This war will probably be over with before you can blink. Then you can go to the Academy like you planned and you can count on me being at your graduation. But if, for some strange reason, we're still fighting when you turn eighteen, you start looking out for me because I'm gonna show up on that rock of a planet and personally draft you. Okay?"

Ranny blinked back his tears and rubbed at his nose. "Okay, Cap."

"Go on. Your family's probably going crazy by now."

Ranny took a few steps backward, his eyes never wavering. Then he whirled and walked rapidly toward the waiting men. He didn't look back.

Watching him go, Han sighed and pulled himself back to his feet. Luke, his eyes still glued to where Ranny had disappeared, shook his head ruefully.

"We shouldn't have lied to him."

Han glanced at his friend sharply. "We didn't lie... exactly. His brother deserved a medal. Would've got one too... if he'd lived. Besides, the thing wasn't doing nothing but collecting dust. It'll mean more to him than to me anyway."

"Okay, Han. If you say so."

"I do say so." He turned, his eyes on Chewie. "You know, Luke. If you could see fit to loan me this beast, I might be able to get this bird home."

Chewie exploded into a loud tirade about ungrateful, uncivilized Corellians.

"You love me and you know it." Han smiled sweetly. "It must be my charming personality."

Luke shook his head in exasperation. He left the two old friends alone with their bickering. They would make it home all right. He hurried along to where his own ship was waiting.

Ranny sat on his bunk and gazed out the portal view of space. He was going home. For the first time he allowed himself to think about it. It would be good to see his mother and father again. Even his little sister, though she could be aggravating at times.

He felt the bulge of the medal in his pocket. They hadn't fooled him. He knew it was the Cap's medal, but somehow it didn't matter. They'd given him something he would treasure always.

He thought about the past few weeks. He hadn't actually failed in his quest. Although Biggs was dead, he'd found his brother in a way. He'd found something more too. Something he couldn't put into words easily, but when he saw his father he would tell him about it. And this time he would make his father listen.

I heard my name called and I quickly filed down the row to receive my diploma. It was a proud moment... something I'd looked forward to for a long time, but now that it was over, the only thing on my mind was getting out of this crowd and catching Han Solo before he left.

As soon as the ceremony adjourned, I was off the rostrum like a blaster shot, pushing and shoving my way through the throng of people. I had to get to the back of the auditorium. I knew he wouldn't stick around for very long. For the first time in a long time I cursed my lack of height, for I couldn't see the rear of the hall very well.

By the time I got there, neither Han nor Chewie were anywhere around. I didn't waste time fretting. I knew where they would head. I bolted out of the auditorium at a dead run toward the hangar area.

I reached the bays breathless, and as I entered I caught sight of the familiar old freighter lifting off. Bitterly disappointed, I watched helplessly as the ship's main engines activated and she rocketed out of the bay. I couldn't turn my eyes from the sky where she'd disappeared. After all this. Why couldn't he have stayed a little longer... just to talk to me for a minute or two. I supposed that maybe I'd built up our friendship all out of proportion. A child's mind can vastly exaggerate. But he'd come after all. That said something.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see my old friend, Luke. He too was watching the sky.

"Don't feel too bad," he offered consolingly. "He never stays in one place very long. Says it's not his style." Luke looked at me then and his blue eyes sparkled with soft laughter. He tugged at my shoulder. "Come on."

We strolled slowly through the hangar, each of us occupied by our own thoughts. Gradually though, I realized that Luke was steering me toward an unfamiliar ship. As we approached her, I could see she was almost brand new, of moderate size -- just right for one or two -- solidly built and bewitchingly beautiful. I whistled my appreciation. Luke nodded his agreement.

"Whose is she?" I asked. I was familiar with almost every ship on the base.

Luke's smile broadened and he held up a taped communication. "Let's go find out."

The ship's hatch was open and we boarded with no problem. When we reached the cockpit, Luke inserted the tape and settled back to watch my reaction. I heard Han's voice fill the air.

Congratulations, Ran.

Didn't I tell you you'd make it through? Though I can't see why anybody would want to waste time there. Any fool knows the only way to learn is to go out and do it.

Anyway... this baby's yours. I picked her up on Loustran in a card game. Don't know what I'd do with her so you can have her if you want. She'd officially registered as The Shooting Star. Luke said it was appropriate and you might like it.

Sorry I couldn't stick around but I can't take rubbing elbows with all those stuffed shirts. If you got any notions about thanking me, forget it, but there's a drink waiting for you in a cantina on Montellia. Find that one if you can. Let's see if they taught you anything worthwhile. See ya around, kid.

I gazed dumbfoundedly at Luke... only just now realizing that this beauty of a ship was mine. He stood up.

"What are you going to do?"

"Do?" My grin matched his. "I'm going to Montellia. Want to come with me?"

Luke looked tempted but he shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't. I'm finally going to accept that teaching job they've been offering me. You go ahead. This trip's yours."

He started to leave the ship. I followed him as far as the hatchway.

"Luke!" I called. He turned. "Thanks. Thanks for everything."

He merely smiled then turned to go. I closed up the hatch and walked back to the cockpit. Relishing the thrill of ownership, I settled into the pilot's seat. Then I began plotting the course for an obscure planet called Montellia. I had a drink waiting for me there.