The crunch of the rocky mud under my soft, hide boots reached my ears distantly, as if muted somehow by the lulling warmth of this region's climate. From far away, Montellia's one, lone moon shed its feeble light, barely illuminating my path. I'd never seen a settlement so totally dark and I shivered, in spite of the heat. I'd never liked being alone... not even when I was on familiar ground, but now, on a strange, isolated planet, I was even more aware of my solitude. I consciously lengthened my stride as I headed for the distant buildings.

Besides their lack of light, the inhabitants of this city must relish walking. Why else would they have built things so far apart? The docking bays seemed miles from the main city, and it felt like hours had passed since I'd left my ship, ready to make the rounds of the cantinas. My irritation at the inconvenience was overshadowed though, by my determination to accomplish what I'd set out to do. I'd made it this far... I'd found this forsaken, obscure planet. Now I had to complete the task. I had to find Han Solo.

I wondered, not for the first time, exactly why I was here. What did I hope to achieve? Did I want to prove to the renowned Corellian pilot that I was worthy of the ship he'd given me? To thank him, even though he'd made it clear he didn't want my gratitude? Or was it just to see him again? After all, it had been eleven years and his appearance at my graduation had been just that. I hadn't even gotten a chance to talk to him. Perhaps it was a combination of all these reasons, but that wasn't it entirely. I knew myself too well to leave it at that. There was a lot more to this journey of mine than a renewal of an old friendship. It was something that went a lot deeper.

I guess it had been there, under the surface, bothering me for some time, but it was only the last little while that I'd really started dwelling on it. Maybe it had been the finality of graduating from the Academy, but whatever had sharpened it into focus wasn't important. What really mattered was the fact that I was twenty-three years old and my life was as empty and dull as a sandworm carcass.

When I was younger, my whole world had been filled with visions of glorious deeds and valiant conquests. The Rebellion had been all important to everyone for so long. My own brother had given his life in one of its first victories. The war's end had not only brought peace to the galaxy, it had dashed any of my hopes for becomming one of those heroic pilots I idolized so much. I would never get the chance now to prove my own worth. I'd wanted so much to make Biggs proud of me... had pictured myself taking to the skies to avenge his death.

Now the only battles left were on an official scale... waged in offices and council rooms. The task of reorganizing the galactic government didn't seem very glorious in my eyes and I felt cheated out of something that should've been mine. It was foolish... even childish. The war had been terrible and it was only right that it should end. Nevertheless, there was this feeling of loss. I couldn't explain it... it was just the way I felt. Like I could never be at ease with my brother... either of my brothers for that matter. I'd worshipped them both and they had each, in his own way, lived lives of unsurpassed courage. How was I ever to live as they had? So I'd come out here to this forgotten sector of the galaxy, not so much looking for excitement, but rather putting off facing a life of unanswered questions. I knew that with Han Solo there would be little time for soul searching.

A brilliant streak of light flashed across the horizon, causing me to break off my musing and to glance upwards to scan the inky sky. A low peal of thunder rumbled threateningly. Lacking much experience with inclement weather, I was mystified at the prospect of rain when the air was so pleasantly warm, but whether or not I understood it, I had no desire to be caught in it. A true child of Tatooine, I was only really comfortable in warm, dry places. With this thought in mind, I sprinted the last few yards and pushed my way into the small cantina. Even though it was dimly lit, it was brighter than outside and I blinked at the sudden change.

After adjusting to the light, I stepped into the room and up to the main bar to order. A multi-limbed droid filled a glass and set it jerkily before me, slopping some of it onto the counter. Obviously this place was in need of maintenance. I picked up my drink and, leaning against the counter, casually studied the clientele. It was hard to distinguish faces in the smokey haze that filled the place. Raucous laughter frequently rang out from amidst the noisy din of conversation and a pungent odor assailed my nostrils. I rubbed at my burning eyes. Something foul was being smoked or burned as incense. Whatever it was, was terribly irritating. I hoped I wouldn't have to stay here long.

Hoping to cool the acrid burning in my throat, I took a swig of my drink and instantly regretted it. It was as if I'd swallowed liquid fire. I gasped, tears streaming from my eyes, and fell into a seizure of coughing. Unable to speak or see clearly, I stumbled away from the bar. Tripping awkwardly across someone, I fell heavily to the floor, ending up on my hands and knees, gulping for air.

Curious onlookers surrounded me and I was vaguely aware that I was causing a scene, but at the moment I couldn't have cared any less. My mouth and throat were searing with pain that wouldn't quit. After an agonizing eternity, I finally felt a hand on my back as someone knelt beside me. I felt the glass pried from my clutching fingers and heard a disgusted grunt. Something was pressed to my lips and I hesitantly took a sip, then gratefully guzzled it as its cooling freshness coursed down my throat.

"Easy now, Ran," I heard a wonderfully familiar voice tell me. I looked up in surprised gratitude to meet Han Solo's hazel eyes, dark now with evident concern.

"Thanks, Cap," I managed to croak out. My throat was still throbbing, but the drink had quenched the fire.

He fanned his hand to wave aside any such sentiments. "What are you doing swilling this liquid fuel for anyway?" He held up my glass questioningly and then tossed it aside.

I shrugged my shoulders. "You said I had... a drink... waiting... for me here." I was still trying to catch my breath.

'Well, not this stuff, kid. It'll rust your insides." He poured a glassful from the bottle he was carrying and handed it to me.

I accepted it gratefully. By this time, convinced I couldn't offer any further entertainment, the curious spectators had wandered away, searching elsewhere for their amusement. I'd recovered for the most part and I handed Han my glass.

"I'll be all right," I whispered hoarsely.

He shook his head, a crooked grin chasing away the worried frown. He looked much the same as when I'd last seen him -- a few extra lines around his eyes maybe, and a degree of hollowness to his cheeks, but not much else to tell that more than a decade had gone by. He glanced past me now and I turned my head to see who was there. There was no mistaking the hulking mass of fur, even though I'd only met Chewbacca briefly. Wookies are hard to forget. He wasn't watching me, however. His gentle blue eyes were fastened on his old friend and he uttered a questioning wail.

"Everything's fine, Chewie," Han answered him hastily. Then he slapped my shoulder. "Look who's finally shown up. Didn't I tell you he would? That's ten you owe me. Well, don't just stand there; help him. Won't do to sit around in the middle of the floor."

I felt myself hoisted onto my feet with one hairy arm and waited, puzzled, as Han struggled to get up on his own. He failed to do so, and finally, with what I thought was an almost resentful glare at the Wookie, accepted his friend's proffered arm. I glanced from one to the other, bewildered at the exchange. Han was smiling again though, quickly brushing aside any trace of anger, and I thought I might have imagined everything.

"Come on over to our table. I've still got a bit of business to finish tonight." He gave me a sly wink. "Then we can celebrate your escape from the Academy."

"Escape? They call it graduation, Cap," I informed him patiently.

"All depends on your point of view, I guess." He was grinning, and I realized he was teasing me.

"What's all this talk about business?" I asked, lowering my voice. I could never change Han's mind about the usefulness of the Academy so I changed the subject. "Are you into that again?" I'd never understood why the Cap had such a hard time living within the law and I was afraid that he might be up to his old smuggling tricks.

The look I got from Han told me what a stupid question it was. He'd never stopped smuggling -- not even during his years with the Allliance. I should have known and I suddenly felt terribly naive.

With Han leading the way and Chewbacca bringing up the rear, we filed through the room and over to a darkened corner. I frowned slightly as I watched the Cap move through the crowd. He was limping noticeably, favoring his right leg. I wondered what kind of trouble he'd gotten into. A fight, most probably, and I was curious about what the other guy looked like. That may have been the cause of the contention between the Corellian and the Wookie. I didn't know for sure and it struck me how much I didn't know about Han Solo or the life he led. My image of him was colored by a child's perception of things. For the last eleven years I'd held him up with my brothers as the epitome of everything a man should be. It was going to be interesting to find out more of what he was really like.

We reached the table and I plopped down ungracefully, still reeling a little from my experience with the liquor and the fetid air. Han sat carefully, a slight grimace tightening the corners of his mouth as he bent his leg. Chewie grunted softly and the Cap stared daggers at him. I pretended not to notice. It was obvious that whatever had happened was not going to be welcome conversation.

Han snapped his fingers high in the air to signal another round. I wasn't eager to try any more alien beverages and it must've shown in my face, for Han chuckled with amusement.

"Don't worry. You just have to know what to stay away from."

His glance flashed past me and instantly the smile left his face. A hardness entered his eyes. I supposed "business" must be getting underway.

A wheezing sound and an even fouler odor than already permeated the cantina announced our visitor shortly before he arrived. I scrutinized him discreetly and found myself more than a bit disgusted. He was unkempt and obese and obviously hadn't bathed for weeks. His bright orange hair lay close to his puffy face, plastered there by sweat and oil.

"Solo," he greeted the Corellian, giving Chewie a nod and me a suspicious glare. Han nodded curtly and kicked out a chair for his associate.

The fat man perched his huge body on the edge of the chair, nervous and silent. He kept casting quick glances in my direction.

Han finally broke the uneasy tension. "Don't fret yourself about the kid, Klamaar. He ain't gonna hurt you. He's a friend of mine."

Klamaar ran his tongue across his thick lips and anxiously wiped at the sweat glistening on his forehead. "Like I should know that, hmmm? I can't get careless." His narrow eyes scanned the cantina.

Han scowled his disapproval. "Better find yourself a new line of work. You act like this all the time and you ain't gonna last long. You got guilty written all over your face."

Klamaar blanched a deathly white and put his hands to his cheeks. Han reached up and pulled then down and I had to conceal a grin at his look on revulsion as he wiped his hand off on his pant leg. I knew he'd never touch the man again if at all possible.

"Let's get down to business. I ain't got all night." The Corellian lowered his voice and I had to lean forward to hear what he was saying. "You bring the goods to my ship tomorrow night. Make sure it's late. The docking security is a joke. Shouldn't be anybody there by the tenth hour. It'll be safe after that. But..." and Han jabbed a finger at the man, "you make sure you're not followed. I ain't taking any grief for something you did."

The menacing warning only served to fluster the man. He rose hastily, cowed by the tone in Han's voice. I certainly would've been frightened if it had been directed at me. Klamaar sputtered his assurance and quickly departed.

The man shoved his way through the host of beings occupying the main floor. I wasn't sorry to see him go. His presence at the table had made me more than slightly uncomfortable and his absence made even the stale air seem fresh. I breathed deeply.

"Nauseating, ain't he?" Han quipped laughingly and I turned my attention back to my friend. The obvious question to me was why deal with that horrible individual, but I decided not to ask it. It was the Cap's business and I'd already made a fool out of myself once tonight. Besides, this wasn't the place for asking stupid questions.

"Pretty bad," I agreed and left it at that.

"It'll be worth it though," Han said, ignoring the grunt of derision that came from Chewbacca. "More than worth it."

He reached for the bottle to pour himself another drink. I was disturbed by the unsteadiness of his hand. Unless he'd been indulging heavily before I got here, he wasn't drunk. I glanced at the Wookie to see his reaction and he couldn't meet my gaze -- an indication of just how worried he was.

It had to be more than just a brawl injury, but I couldn't begin to guess what.

I was startled suddenly by a heavy thud and the splintering of glass. The bottle had slipped from the Cap's unsure grasp, breaking his glass and spilling the remainder of the liquid over the table.

"Damn!" Han swore as we all pushed ourselves away from the dripping mess. "What a slob I am." He got to his feet to call the waiter. "We'll get this cleaned up."

I was in no mood now for the all-nighter this could turn into. I wanted to talk to the Cap, away from all the confusion. "Why don't we go somewhere else?" I suggested hopefully. "This place is getting to me."

Han squinted at me a moment, as if trying to figure my motive. Then he shrugged his shoulders. "Sure. We'll go to the Falcon. Have a private party."

We paid our tab and headed for the exit. When we reached the doorway and made our way outside, we found ourselves in the middle of the downpour that had been threatening earlier. It wasn't cold, but by the time we'd gone ten feet we were all thoroughly drenched.

"How far to the Falcon?" I asked, keeping close to my friends. The rain only made the darkness worse and I didn't want to get separated from them.

Han inclined his head to the right. "Docking bay 41."

"Great," I muttered. My own ship was in bay 10 and I knew how far I'd come to get here tonight.

Han laughed. "Quit complaining. You ain't got the worst of it." He jerked his thumb at the Wookie. "Look at poor Chewie. Takes him forever to dry out."

The Wookie did look terribly bedraggled, I had to admit. His long fur was clumped and matted and his feet were covered with mud. At that moment he let loose a long howl and several short grunts -- I suppose to tell us he didn't think it was funny. The smile immediately left my face. I didn't want to incur any Wookie wrath, but Han only laughed again, louder this time.

"He can be such an old woman sometimes."

This remark elicited another series of growls from Chewbacca, but the good-naturedness of their tone reassured me that neither of them were taking any real offense. This kind of banter apparently went on all the time.

We trudged through the sloppy streets for quite some time. Our progress was slowed by the slippery footing, and more so by the Cap's limping gate. Occasionally a peal of thunder would threaten to deafen us and now and then a flash of lightning would illuminate the horizon. It seemed to me that someone must be following me with a bucket of water, pouring it on my head. I had never seen it rain so hard in my entire life. It ran down my hair, into the back of my shirt, down my nose, dripping off the end like a leaky faucet. It ran into my eyes and my mouth; I suddenly wanted very much to be back on Tatooine -- dry Tatooine.

Then, to further mystify me on the subject of weather, the rain stopped. It was as if some divine hand had just turned off a cosmic waterfall. I wondered at it, but didn't question our good fortune. Whatever the cause, I was grateful.

"There's the bay," Han informed me.

I could barely make out the outline of the building.

"Not soon enough," the pilot went on. "Get a chance to dry out and... Hey! Chewie, stop it! You wanna drown me?"

I laughed as the Wookie continued shaking himself from head to toe -- a monumental task -- trying to wring himself out. In the process he'd showered Han, somehow not quite accidentally, getting his revenge for the earlier remarks about his predicament.

As we entered the docking bay, I paused to take in the sight of the Millennium Falcon. The noble old freighter looked even more decrepit than when I'd last seen her, but I knew better than to be fooled by the appearance of that battered hull. Under Han and Chewie's constantly tinkering hands, the ship's engines would be running clean, hard and fast.

Once inside, feelings that I couldn't really explain washed over me. I suppose nostalgia would come the closest to describing them. Here, on board the Falcon, I was suddenly twelve years old again, full of excitement at wandering the corridors of a pirate's space ship. But close behind this first surge of delight in the past, came the frustration of the present. There was nothing like this to look forward to now. Adventure was stowed away forever with other memories. The life that I'd always dreamed of living had been taken from me. I wasn't like the Cap. He made his own trouble and excitement, independent of the whims of the galaxy, but I couldn't do that. I didn't even know where to start.

I heard the Cap's footsteps and coming out of my reverie, I caught the towel he threw me and proceeded to dry my hair.

"You better get outta those clothes," Han advised. I watched with bemusement as he gave me a quick once-over, sizing me up. Great stature had never run in my family and I was the shortest of all the Darklighter men. I stretched a bit, trying to appear taller. "I'm not sure what I've got that'll fit you," he finally said noncommittally.

"It won't matter if they're a little big," I informed him dully. "I'm not going anywhere."

I guess I must've sounded downhearted for Han grinned good-naturedly. "C'mon, kid. It ain't the end of the world."

"I know, I know. It's not that. Cap, I..." I moved over to the game table and sat down.

"Hey, Ran, what's the problem?"

Han settled at the monitor board, ready to listen, but now that I had his attention, I wasn't sure how to say what was on my mind. I didn't want to sound foolish or stupid, but that was how everything now appeared to me. How could I make what was bothering me sound important to a man who had faced danger and death all his life?

I fidgeted with the buttons on the table and the holo figures sprang into being. I studied the translucent creatures distractedly, trying to find the right words. Han had remained silent for these long moments and I looked over at him. He was still waiting patiently for me to explain. I punched the board again and the glow faded, taking the figures with it.

"Well, Ran?" Han prodded.

"Cap... I don't want to cry on your shoulder or anything..."

"I'll tell you if you're bothering me," he told me.

"Well, I..." I took a deep breath and made the plunge. "Cap, do you know that I used to pray the Rebellion would last long enough for you to come and get me like you promised?" Han's eyes narrowed with puzzlement. I guess I hadn't started off too clearly. I tried to begin again.

"I grew up worshipping my brothers. They were heros... real ones, not just to me. Biggs gave him life fighting the Empire. Daniel overcame blindness. And then later, there was you and Luke. Everyone around me was fighting for a cause, for something they believed in." My words were coming faster now, as I was finally able to get it out. "That's what I wanted to do... be like them... like you. But the Rebellion ended... too soon." I saw the Cap's eyebrows shoot up in surprise so I hastened to clarify what I'd said. "I don't mean the war shouldn't have ended. But why couldn't it have lasted just long enough for me to fight in it?"

Han stood up and came over to sit at the game table. I could tell by the expression on his face that he was going through my problem, trying to find the right words to say. Finally he spoke.

"You oughta be glad you weren't in it. It sure wasn't what you seem to think it was. I can tell you, it wasn't pretty or glorious. And everybody who was fighting couldn't wait till the end came. All it was, was death and blood and pain. Be thankful you missed it."

I shrugged my shoulders and heaved a sigh. I still hadn't made it clear to him, but how could I, when it wasn't even clear to me? "Cap... it's not what you think. I'm not bloodthirsty or anything like that and I'm glad no one else had to die. It's just... I feel like I have to prove I could've cut it. I think I could've done what everybody else did, but now I'll never know for sure. That's what's frustrating. Not that the war is over, but that for all I know, I could be a coward. How can I live up to my brothers' memories?"

"Their memories?" I could tell already that the Cap didn't really comprehend my dilemma. "What makes you think you have to live up to anything?"

I didn't answer. What could I say?

"Listen, Ran. Your brothers did what they had to do. Same with Luke, same with me... Chewie, everybody. You're put in a situation and you cope. That's all."

"Cap... you don't..."

"I don't understand. I know." He smiled at me to lighten the mood. "I think you've been cramped up in classrooms too long. It's bogged down your brain. Good thing you came out here. A little free spacing and you'll get a different perspective on things."

I wasn't so sure, but I didn't argue with him. It had helped a little just to talk and get it out in the open. "Maybe you're right," I conceded.

"Course I'm right. You'll see." Han slowly rose from his seat, leaning heavily on the table top. He flashed me another smile. "Quit worrying so much. It's not healthy." He glanced down at his soaked shirt. 'And speaking of health, I gotta get out of these wet clothes."

I tugged at my own shirt, uncomfortably reminded that I hadn't changed either. "Yeah, me too. I guess I'll have to take you up on your offer." There was no response. I looked up from fidgeting with my buttons, only to find Han doubled over, clutching his right arm to his side. Panicked at the sudden change, I jumped up and rushed to his side. "Cap, what is it? What's the matter?"

His face was screwed up with pain, and as I put my hand on his shoulder, I could feel him trembling. I couldn't understand what was wrong with him. He'd been all right just a second ago. Feeling helpless, I tried to guide him to a seat.

"Can you sit?" I asked, attempting to stay calm.

He didn't answer me, but he took a few halting steps. His leg buckled underneath him and he fell heavily to the deck.

Completely unnerved now, I called out for the Wookie. I had no idea if he could help or not, but I would feel better if he were here.

"Chewie!" Fear raised my voice to a loud pitch.

I heard a muffled growling that grew more distinct as the Wookie approached from the depths of the ship. Relief flooded through me at the sound. Anything could be faced as long as you weren't alone.

As Chewie entered the room, he paused for a brief instant, taking in the scene. A plaintive wail issued from his throat as he knelt his massive body next to his suffering friend. One hairy paw brushed across Han's forehead, soothing growls sounding constantly from him. I couldn't understand what he was saying, but Han did and was responding to his co-pilot's reassuring voice. He shook his head slightly in answer to a question from the Wookie. A small groan escaped from between his clenched teeth. Even that small movement seemed to cause him tremendous pain.

Chewie was rummaging through the leather pouch on his bandolier. Apparently finding what he was looking for, he let out a soft grunt of satisfaction. He pulled out an opaque container, flicked open the lid and took out two white pills. These he placed in Han's mouth. He then rolled the captain over onto his back and gently took the stricken Corellian's head into his lap. With a tenderness his size belied, he began massaging Han's shoulder and arm.

I didn't know what kind of drug Chewie had administered, but gradually, between its effects and the Wookie's ministrations, the Cap began to relax. I could see the tension leave his face and his breathing became more even. My own pulse grew more normal as well. Things seemed to be under control for the moment. I was bursting with questions, but there was no one I could ask. Chewie I couldn't understand, and the Cap was beyond answering anything. I was going to have to wait for my answers.

I stood by as the Wookie carefully grabbed Han under his good shoulder and lifted him to his feet. He wrapped the Corellian's arm around his furry waist and together they shuffled off down the corridor. I got the feeling that Chewie would have preferred to carry his friend, but the Cap was still half conscious and was stubbornly resisting too much help. Slowly, they made their way toward the cabins. I trailed after them, wondering all the while what was wrong. It was obvious that I had jumped to the wrong conclusion before. Han was more than just hurt from a fight... much more, and the thought that Han Solo wasn't invincible or immortal struck me with frightening force.

Chewie eased the Cap onto his bunk. Groggy with medication, he didn't fight as the Wookie pulled off his wet shirt and tossed it into a corner. Finally seeing a way to be of some help, I hurried over and knelt to pull off Han's boots. I heard a deep-throated growl above me. Chewie sounded resentful of my presence, but I was determined to be of assistance, so I ignored him.

I tugged on the well-worn leather, feeling a resistance. I glanced up and met the Cap's eyes. I couldn't fathom the expression in them. Underneath the drug and pain was something deeper... sorrow, or maybe even a degree of shame at being in this condition. I couldn't be sure, but I quickly glanced back down. No need to rub it in his face that I was here seeing him like this. I yanked at the boot again and this time it came off easily. Han had quit fighting... both the drug and us. He lay still on his bunk with eyes closed. After a minute I had both boots in my hands.

I backed off a bit, clutching the footwear under my arm, as Chewie finished undressing Han and drew the blankets over him. I was suffering terrible guilt at having unloaded all my petty problems on him. My imagined trouble seemed unimportant compared to this real crisis.

Chewbacca had finished tending to Han and now faced me. He growled a question I didn't understand. Not knowing what he wanted from me, I simply shrugged my shoulders. Chewie grunted again and then turned to rummage through one of Han's drawers. He pulled out some clothing and tossed it at me.

"Thanks," I said, surprised he'd thought of it. With everything else, even I had forgotten.

The Wookie now came toward me. With a flourish of his arm, I knew he wanted me to leave Han's cabin. I didn't really want to go. I would've felt better staying by the Cap's side, but with the hulking Wookie frame blocking the way, there was no way I could get there. Besides, I understood his reasons for keeping me out. The Cap would be embarrassed if he woke up and found someone babysitting him. I reluctantly edged out the door. Chewie followed me, dimming the lights as he went. I took some comfort in the fact that he didn't feel the need to sit up with Han. If he wasn't that worried, then I could rest easier. I watched the Wookie head off in the direction of his cabin, and with one last look into Han's open room, I followed after him.

* * *

I woke up with a headache. I'd drunk more than I usually did last night and I was regretting it now. My throat still reminded me of the fire I'd poured down it. Chewie was missing from the cabin I'd shared with him and, having no idea what business he might be off on, I stumbled into the main control room, ready to scrounge something to eat. I found some already hot root tea and poured myself a steaming mug. Grabbing a hunk of sweet bread, I slid in behind the game table, alone with only my thoughts for company.

I was munching on my makeshift breakfast when I heard the noise of someone stirring aft. I perked up at the sound, hoping it meant the Cap was feeling better and was up and about. Aside from being worried about him, I was more than slightly curious about the strange malady afflicting him and I had a few questions I wanted to ask.

I didn't have long to wait. Before many minutes had passed, I looked up to see him enter the room. He looked like death warmed over... hair disheveled, face haggard and pale, barefooted, shirt only half tucked in. The concern that had faded a bit with the night's passage now came rushing back at the sight of him.

As he made his way over to the pot of tea, he grunted a greeting at me that sounded closer to the Wookie tongue than anything else. I watched him, trying to be discreet. I could detect the limp still evident in his walk, though he was trying to minimize it. He was using his left hand to fix his tea. Whatever it was that had flared up so violently last night, was obviously still exerting its effect.

"Morning," I mumbled in return, my mouth full of bread. I hesitated saying anything. I wasn't sure how the Cap would react to my inquiries.

Han carried his drink over to the table and sat down across from me. Neither of us spoke and I wasn't sure which of us was more uncomfortable in the thick silence. I studied him from where I sat and was struck by how much he seemed to have aged over night. Last evening, at the cantina, he'd seemed a bit thin in the face. This morning he looked positively gaunt, and there was a whisper of gray to his hair that I hadn't noticed in the dimness of the tavern.

"You can quit staring at me, Ranny. I ain't gonna turn into a gondar."

I jumped guiltily at being caught. "Sorry," I sputtered lamely, then finally just blurted out, "I was concerned about you."

Han scowled deeply into his mug, but remained silent.

"How are you feeling?" I persisted, trying to open up the conversation.

"Like hell," Han snapped irritably. "What'd you expect?" He looked at me intently. "But don't you start in. All I need is somebody else hovering over me." The Corellian stood up slowly, massaging his stiff leg. He limped over to the readout panels. "Chewie worries enough for everybody."

"Seems to me he's got pretty good cause," I commented.

Han snorted. "He's getting fussy in his old age. I'm all right."

"You sure weren't all right last night," I informed him drily and perhaps a bit condescendingly, for the Cap whirled angrily, eyes flashing.

"Don't get pushy, kid. I've taken care of myself since before you were born, so don't think I need you now. I don't need any wet-nosed, sand flea telling me by business."

His words stung hard and deep. After all, for years I had practically worshipped the ground he walked on. I jumped up from the table, anger, hurt, concern and frustration all churning inside of me. "Take care of yourself then. See if I care!" I started toward the main hatch and was almost there when I felt his hand grab my arm to stop me.

"Ran... Ranny, listen."

For the first time I looked him straight in the eyes. He glanced away quickly, unable to hold my gaze, but the pain and fear I glimpsed there in that brief exchange pierced my heart.

"Sorry, Ran," he apologized awkwardly. "I didn't mean to yell at you. It's not your fault. Come on... sit down."

He led me back to the table.

"What exactly is wrong with you, Cap?" I asked, calmer now.

"Nothing, kid, nothing. How many times do I have to tell everybody? Look, you came out here to have a good time... to forget your problems. So forget already. Tonight we'll ship on out and then the fun'll really begin."

This idle rambling wasn't going to put me off. "What's wrong, Cap?" I was determined to get an answer.

"Damn it, kid! Let it go, would you? You wanna stick around here for the fun, all right. But get off my back. Now tonight, when Klamaar shows up with the goods..."

"What's the matter with..."

"I don't know!" Han finally exploded, slamming hs fist on the table. "Can you just get that through your head and leave it at that? I don't know!"

"What do you mean?" I asked incredulously, ignoring his angry outbursts. "Haven't you seen..."

"No, I haven't seen a healer," Han broke in sarcastically. "What's the point? So I get a little pain now and then. What's a healer gonna tell me that I don't already know?"

"For one thing, maybe what's causing the pain. For another, maybe how to cure it..."

"Yeah, and maybe..." Han stopped in mid-sentence and looked away at nothing in particular. "Just too many maybe's," he finished with a lame effort to keep up the bravado. "I don't need 'em poking at me."

He didn't fool me. That brief hesitation told me everything. He was afraid to see a healer... afraid he couldn't be cured. He wouldn't be able to live with the knowledge that his life might be over, so he was going on pain killers and sheer guts. As far as he was concerned, he had plenty of both to last as long as he needed.

I wanted to argue with him, to plead and reason and even beat some sense into that thick, Corellian skull, but nothing would do any good. He'd made up his mind and wouldn't be budged. If even Chewie had been unable to get him to a healer, then what hope did I have to convince him? Still, I was determined to help, and right at the moment I figured the best way would be to quit badgering him.

"So, what's your business with Klamaar tonight?" It wasn't a subtle change of subject, but I hoped he didn't care. He jumped at the shift in topics.

"You'll see when he gets here with the stuff."

Han was being deliberately evasive, but that wasn't unusual for a necessarily close-mouthed smuggler and I didn't let it bother me.

"Well, what's to do in town until tonight?"

Han gulped the remainder of his tea and made a face at it because it had gone cold while we talked. "Plenty," he said with a smile that was only a shadow of his usual grin. "Let me finish getting dressed and we'll hit the streets."

"Sounds great, Cap," I told him half-heartedly. It wasn't what I would've chosen to do. If I'd had my way, I would've trussed him up and carted him off to the nearest infirmary, but since that would be impossible, at least I could stay with him in case he needed me.

* * *

Despite my frustration about Han, I managed to enjoy the time I spent with him. Somewhere along the way we met up with Chewie and the three of us made the round of cantinas, restaurants and casinos. I'd never had a more interesting day. The combination of talk, food, drink and laughter, plus being able to watch the Cap conduct his business, almost made me forget the problems we were pretending didn't exist. Only occasionally, whenever I caught Han downing pain pills, was I reminded of his trouble, and I marvelled at how he kept on his feet and wondered what it must be costing him.

The worry couldn't be pushed aside forever though, and as soon as we returned to the Falcon to await Klamaar's arrival, I was immediately engulfed with fear and concern. The Cap looked so tired... it made me sad to see him this way. Why couldn't people ever stay the way they were supposed to?

My brothers, who'd been the gods of my early childhood, were dead -- taken from our family in the prime of their manhood. Daniel was killed needlessly; Biggs died for a cause, but both were gone nonetheless. My father had died last year. His long, laborious work on our farm had finally rewarded him -- with a stroke as he struggled with the harvest alone. Refusing to allow me to leave the Academy and come home to work the land, my mother had sold our homestead and now she and my sister lived in a small place in Anchorhead. Even Luke Skywalker, as true and steadfast a friend to our family as he ever was, had changed from the likeable young farmboy I first knew.

It was hard to explain, but in his eyes was something that spoke of too much death and sorrow. The one person I had counted on to never change had been Han Solo. Reckless, irresponsibly heroic, brave in a haphazard sort of way; I had thought he would always be so. Yet here he was, my last firm hold in an all-too-shifting universe, tired and sick... afraid. In the face of all this, I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to "cope" as the Cap said men did.

Chewie whined questioningly from the cockpit, bringing my attention back to my surroundings.

"I know, I know he's late," Han informed his furry co-pilot from inside the compartment under the access corridor. He was down there shifting and sorting, preparing a safe place to store the goods the overdue Klamaar was supposed to bring.

I sat on the deck and peered in at him. "What could be keeping him?" I was thinking outloud than anything else.

"I'm not his mother," Han replied grumpily. He stopped a moment, as if pondering that remark, and then he laughed. "Thank the stars."

Chewie growled again and he didn't sound happy.

"Aw, quit belly-aching, would you?" Han's voice was weary. "How would I know if there's any problem?"

The Wookie gave a short, miffed grunt. I looked back at Han and saw he was smiling to himself. He glanced upward and saw me studying him. The smile faded a bit but didn't quite disappear. He reached to hoist himself up.

"Job's finished here. Nice cozy place to tuck 'em away in."

"Tuck what away?" I asked innocently.

The Cap's grin returned in full force. "Just wait and see, my boy. Just wait and..."

His grip on the edge of the deck failed and he slipped jerkily back into the hold.

"Cap?" I leaned forward and found him massaging his right arm; flexing his stiff fingers.

He glanced up at me sheepishly and I could tell he was embarrassed. "Relax, I'm not hurt." He studied his hand for a moment, as if it were a thing detached from himself and then he shook his head ruefully. "Sometimes I just..." He didn't finish what he was going to say. Instead, he stretched out his weak arm for me to grab. "Gimme a hand."

I hesitated, not wanting to hurt his bad arm.

"Come on," he ordered gruffly. "I won't break."

I grasped his wrist reluctantly but firmly and heaved. He balanced himself with his left hand's hold on the edge of the deck and crawled up out of the small compartment. It wasn't the most graceful sight, but in the end, he was sitting next to me, rubbing his shoulder. A slight grimace pulled at his mouth.

I bit back my obvious question, but he must've seen it in my eyes for he smiled, a bit exasperated, and slapped my knee with his left hand.

"I'm all right, Ranny." He held out both his arms for me to inspect. "See? I didn't fall apart."

"I didn't say anything," I replied defensively.

"You didn't have to. Here, help me with this."

He moved around the open hold and squatted opposite me. With one of us pulling at each end, the panel slid easily into place. It settled with a noisy clang.

"There, that oughta do it." Han reached over to lock the panel in place. "I guess I'll have to go looking for that grease pit, Klamaar. I shoulda never..."

Han whirled at a sound I never heard. Without even had a chance to stand up, I just stayed there on the deck as the Cap faced the intruder. I was uncertain of what to do or if my interference would be welcome, or even wise.

"Who invited you on board, Jip?" Han snarled in a low, threatening tone.

The humanoid in front of us was tall and thin; his curly, white hair stood out on end. He was unarmed as far as I could tell, but there was an aura of danger about him. Han obviously knew him and just as obviously didn't care for him.

"I said, what are you doing on my ship?" Han repeated.

Jip's eye's roamed around the Falcon casually, then settled on Han. He finally decided to speak. "I have news you might want," came the deep-throated reply. "And if you don't want unwelcome guests, then make sure you lock your ship."

The Cap's gaze flickered toward the hatch, then moved back to his visitor. "I'll try and be more careful," he told Jip sarcastically. "What could you possibly know that I might want to hear?"

Jip didn't answer at once. Instead, he let his pinkish eyes wander around the corridor again, as if studying its decor. I imagined he was looking for something he could bargain for. During his roving, his eyes fell on me and he scrutinized me from head to toe. I felt extremely disconcerted, somewhat like a specimen at a zoo, and when a leering grin appeared suddenly on his face, I felt dirty. I wanted to disappear somewhere -- anything to get this creature's probing eyes off of me.

"I ain't playing games, Jip. What do you want?"

Han's commanding voice drew the man's attention from me and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Not so fast, Solo. This news is worth a lot -- to both of us."

Jip extended his hand, palm upward. I watched the Cap. His right hand hovered over the blaster strapped at his hip, and though I doubted he could have drawn it, Jip didn't know that. He eyed Han warily.

"It's worth a lot," he repeated, still stubbornly greedy, but I detected a bit of a whine in his voice that spoke of fear.

"I haven't heard anything yet." Han's voice was icy calm.

"We don't have a price yet," Jip threw back.

"You tell me your great news and I'll decide what it's worth to me."

"No deal, Corellilan. Cash in advance."

"I ain't paying you anything -- not without knowing what I'm paying for. Now, why don't you just be on your way."

Jip apparently felt his opportunity slipping away with Han's patience and he hastened to reach a compromise. "It doesn't need to be money. It could be an equal amount of merchandise." His eyes drifted over to me once again and I stood up at last, unable to sit there under his gaze.

"What kind of merchandise?" Han asked suspiciously.

"Oh, I'm sure we could arrange something."

Jip reached his long arm and brushed his fingers through my hair. I knocked his hand away furiously, thoroughly disgusted at his touch. I backed toward Han, wanting to get as far away from this being as I could. Jip laughed at my reaction -- a deep, coarse sound that sent a shiver of revulsion down my spine.

"Yes, if we could work something out in this area, I could tell you my information."

He reached toward me once more and I raised my clenched fists. He wasn't going to touch me again. He stopped, regarded me for a moment, then addressed Han.

"You see, Solo? It won't cost you anything and this little one with the dark hair has so much spirit... I could make use of him..."

Jip never got another word out, for Han grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and slammed him up against the bulkhead, pinning him there. The Corellian looked ready to kill and it was only partly due to the pain it was costing him to hold the other man at bay.

"Get off my ship!" came the Cap's vicious order.

"What about my information?" Jip gasped out, still trying to bargain in spite of the obvious danger he was in.

"I don't need your damn information. Take it and get out of here."

Han shoved Jip toward the hatch. The creature stumbled, but kept from falling. He crouched by the door, glaring at both of us.

"You'll be sorry," he hissed, brave now that he was out of reach. "You'll wish you had dealt with me."

Han took another step forward, but Jip was gone -- vanished into the night. The next moment, Chewbacca stepped out from the cockpit, his bow held in the crook of his arm. So he'd been there all along, ready to intervene. Han looked at him, accepting the Wookie's presence matter-of-factly. He moved to peer outside.

Somehow the air seemed sweeter to me with Jip gone and I breathed in deeply, savoring it. Hearing me, Han faced me sympathetically.

"Slime all the way," he commented. "I'll probably have to disinfect everything."

I smiled at his attempt at humor. I agreed with him whole-heartedly. I had a sudden urge to go wash my hair where Jip had touched it.

"Wonder what he was selling?" I mused out loud.

Han's eyes narrowed. "Can't be anything good if Jip's involved. Damn, I wish I knew where Klamaar was."

A resounding growl sounded as Chewbacca put in his heartfelt agreement. Han glanced up at him.

"I already know how you feel about it," he told his friend in an acid tone. "Nobody says you have to stick around for this deal."

Chewie didn't respond. Evidently he'd grown accustomed to Han's anger, but it tore me apart to see this enmity between such close friends, especially since it stemmed from the Wookie's natural concern about the Corellian's health. But there was nothing I could do to bridge the ever-increasing gap between them. I only hoped it wasn't going to prove irreparable.

"You do what you want." Han broke the stony silence. "I'm gonna check up on Klamaar."

His eyes darted from the Wookie to me, as if expecting an argument. He got none from Chewie, who merely leaned passively against a bulkhead. He appeared to have thrown up his hands, but I couldn't stand by and do nothing while the Cap rushed out into unknown dangers. I stepped up to him and looked him squarely in the face.

"You're not going alone," I informed him simply.

He studied my determined features for a brief moment, then apparently decided he didn't want to fight me, which he would've had to do to keep me from accompanying him.

"I guess I'm not," he told me with a half-cocked grin. Then he was halfway down the Falcon's ramp before I realized it. I turned an apologetic face to Chewie, who merely grunted enigmatically. Giving up, I raced after the Cap, who probably would've enjoyed losing me.

"Wait for me," I called as I hurried to catch up with him.

"I ain't a babysitter, Ranny," he advised gruffly. "If you can't keep up..."

"I didn't ask you to be," I interrupted indignantly. "Cap, I'm not twelve anymore."

Han gave me a sideways glance, as if checking the truth of my statement. He said nothing further until we'd left the lighted docking bay and entered the black of the Montellia night. He then stopped me and spoke in deadly earnest.

"It's great that you're all grown up, Ran. That way you'll know that this is for real. It ain't any Academy war game. One slip here and you could end up dead... or worse."

I knew he was reminding me of Jip and his perverse desires, and I suppose he was trying to tell me that there were even worse things than Jip, though I had a hard time imagining what. I repressed a shudder as I answered him.

"I'll be careful."

Han nodded, an almost imperceptible gesture in the darkness. "Well, you keep it in mind. Just stay quiet and stick close."

I gave him my solemn promise to do so and we started off again.

I followed Han through a labyrinth of back alleys and deserted streets. It was so dark that sometimes I was unable to discern his outline ahead of me and I could only tell he was there by the sound of his shuffling gait. Time seemed to be suspended as we stole through the city. I had no idea of how long we'd been creeping along like thieves in the night -- which I suppose, technically, we were. It was an eerie feeling.

Abruptly, I felt a hand collide with my chest. The Cap had halted and was signalling me to do so too. I felt Han tap my shoulder and I was barely able to see his finger pointing up at the top floor of an old building. A tiny glint of light filtered out through a drawn blind. Someone was up there... or had been.

"That's Klamaar's hide-out," Han whispered at me. "He's probably cowering under the bed. If he is, I'm gonna brain him."

That would be a sight to see. I only hoped he was there, alive to be brained. If he wasn't, then trouble was bound to follow. With the way the timid, fat man had been acting, it wouldn't be hard to link him up with anyone he'd been dealing with, and since I still had no idea what it was exactly he and the Cap had been trying to smuggle off Montellia, I couldn't begin to hazard a guess at just how bad the trouble would be.

"Come on," Han ordered. He started forward, but as we were about to leave the cover of the dark alley and step out into the better-lit courtyard, I felt myself pushed against the wall by Han's arm. He himself was trying to become as flat as possible. I knew better than to ask questions, but I did manage to lean forward a bit to see what was happening.

It was hard to make out anything, for though the yard was lighter than the shadows we were hiding in, it wasn't by much. I strained my eyes, trying to make out whatever it was that had alerted the Cap to danger.

"There," came the barest trace of a whisper from the Corellian.

I caught the movement now. Someone was leaving the building. Even in the inky night, I could tell it wasn't Klamaar. This figure was far too slight. Other than that, I couldn't identify him.

At that moment the sneaking creature stepped into the small shaft of light from the upper window. In another instant he'd drifted out of it again, but not soon enough. I'd seen the curly hair crowning that tall body.

"Jip," Han breathed, the disgust and hatred he felt for the man somehow coming through that murmuring of his name.

We stood there in absolute silence for what seemed an eternity. My body ached for movement of some kind... any kind.

"I guess it's all right now," Han finally muttered, but with a degree of uncertainty in his voice that I could've lived without.

I exhaled heavily, thankful for the reprieve. The Cap hushed me instantly.

"There could still be trouble," he warned. "Jip wasn't here for a social call. Move easy."

I nodded and followed after the Corellian's stealthy form, walking only where he walked, trying not to breathe. At some time I must have started sweating, for I suddenly became aware that my shirt was drenched and sticking to me.

It seemed to take a Wookie's lifetime to cross the open yard, but at last we were inside the building, safe from prying eyes.

A tight beam of light shot out from the small hand lamp the Cap had detached from his belt. It was only enough to illuminate a few steps ahead without broadcasting our presence here to any curious passers-by. He swung it around us a few times, trying to use its feeble ray to get his bearings, then he let the weak beam settle on a flight of stairs that, even in the dimness, couldn't hide their rotted condition.

"There," he said in a tone laced with apprehension. "We have to go up."

He fumbled with something at his side and I couldn't tell what he was doing until I felt the handlight shoved at me.

"Here," he ordered in a whisper. "Take this and shine it directly in front of me. Don't wave it around."

I didn't know why he was giving it to me since he was going first, but then I heard his blaster slide out of his holster and I understood. He wanted to be armed and he couldn't hold both his gun and the lamp in one hand. His right arm was still useless to him. I hoped he was skilled with his left. I felt for my own blaster. It was there, strapped to my left thigh. I'd habitually worn it since I'd left Tatooine to go to the Academy, but seldom had I ever drawn it, and had used it even less. I didn't know what good I might do with it, but I pulled it from my holster anyway. Somehow the slick metal, cold and heavy in my hand, felt strangely comforting.

"Let's go," I heard Han say, so I pointed the beam ahead of him and followed close behind as he started up the stairs.

The groans and creaks the old wood gave forth as we climbed didn't do much to bolster my rapidly fading courage. My heart was thumping so hard in my chest that I was sure the Cap could hear it. I swallowed hard, trying to calm myself. I couldn't even think about what we might find waiting for us. If I did, I would probably have turned around and gone the other way.

Slowly, we made our way to the top, and as we neared the landing, a small sliver of light reached out to us from under the door. It touched Han's face first, revealing his pale cheeks and the drops of sweat glistening on his forehead. Then, as we continued, it glinted off his blaster, then his belt buckle, and then combined with my lamp to brighten the floor at his feet. He was standing on the landing and I moved off the stairs to stop next to him. He motioned for me to kill the lamp and I clicked it off and hooked it onto my belt. Han sidled up to one side of the door and waved me behind him. He stood there, silently listening. Then he reached out his left foot to push it open. I felt him sag a bit as all his weight fell on his bad leg, but I was there, unobtrusively, for him to lean on and he didn't lose his balance.

The open door now spilled the room's full light onto the landing and I couldn't help taking a glimpse at where we'd just climbed in the dark. One sight of the rotted staircase and I wished I hadn't. I turned back to watch the Cap inch his way toward the entrance.

He'd reached it now and abruptly, as if throwing all caution to the wind, he burst into the bright room, swinging around with his blaster, ready to shoot anything that moved. Nothing happened -- nothing stirred. The silence that had been with us on the stairs lived in this room as well.

I heard Han begin to walk around. He hadn't said anything to me, but I assumed it was safe to follow him in. I entered and saw the Corellian standing as if frozen, staring at a large, red mass of something I couldn't identify. He didn't even seem aware I was there. I started to come closer, but stopped as a repugnant odor assailed my nostrils. Unconsciously I put my hand over my nose and began breathing through my mouth. The stench was terrible, not unlike an old, dead bantha I'd come across once.

I stepped forward and my foot landed in a puddle of something. I glanced down, puzzled at the large, red pool and I traced it back to the object of Han's scrutiny. I frowned as an idea slowly began forming. I looked back at my foot and quickly moved it. It left a brownish streak across the floor. Horror crept into my soul as I finally comprehended. I glanced up at the Cap, who finally looked at me and I could see my own shock reflected in his face. I guess even Corellian smugglers weren't immune to everything. With the utmost reluctance, I forced myself to look at the source of the smell and I knew what it was.

It was a mound of flesh -- red, moist, jelly-like. It was as if some living thing had been pulled inside out. Revulsion began to churn my stomach and I turned away, sure I was going to be sick if I stayed here much longer.

"So much for Klamaar." Han's voice sounded weak. "Poor bastard."

I didn't know how he could tell who it was... or had been, but then, he was closer than I was ever going to get. Han moved away from the grisly scene. He reached across himself to awkwardly holster his blaster. Then he limped over to a dilapidated old cot and grabbed a well-worn blanket. This he tossed over the corpse. It helped immensely not to have to look at it. Then he began searching the room, I assumed for whatever Klamaar was supposed to have given him.

"What..." I had to gulp hard before I could go on. "What happened to him?" I managed to ask.

Han stopped pawing through an ancient chest and glanced over at the hidden remains, then up at me. His face was set and hard. He'd covered up his shock and was a galaxy-wise pirate again. "He's been skinned," he informed me in a cold voice. "Probably alive at the time." He returned to rummaging through the chest.

I stared at him, appalled at the thought. "Alive?"

"That's the customary way to do it," he commented, without pausing in his task.

"But... but why?" I stammered out, unable to comprehend such violence.

In answer, Han tossed me a large music box he'd been toying with. A small, hidden compartment had been sprung. It was now empty. I looked up for further explanation.

"He had some high-cost rocks stashed in there. I guess somebody wanted 'em pretty bad."

"But, couldn't they have just killed him? Why all this?" I indicated the mess on the floor.

Han's forehead wrinkled in obvious bewilderment. "Who knows? But I hope that whoever it was got what he wanted and left town."

A sudden thought flashed into my mind. "Jip!" I exclaimed. "He was here."

Han shook his head. "No way. This ain't his style. He's scum but he wouldn't have the stomach for this."

"But then who..."

"I don't know," Han stated hotly.

I flushed at his harshness. I hadn't meant to be irritating, but I was too flustered to think very clearly on my own and besides, the events of the last few days were catching up and taking their toll on me.

"Damn," I heard the Cap mutter. "Don't pay any attention to me, Ran. I'm not thinking straight." He moved over to my side and put an apologetic hand on my shoulder. "Let's get outta here. You look a little green, and I could use a good stiff drink."

I heartily agreed with his suggestion. Nothing sounded better to me than to get far away from here. We started to leave when the Cap stopped me.

"Put your gun away, kid. Don't wanna draw any attention."

I reluctantly complied, not wanting to give up the security I felt with it in my hand, but he was right. I could hardly go wandering around waving my blaster about, without someone getting curious.

The journey down seemed like a breeze when compared with our trip up. Before long, we were outside, blending into the safety of the alley. We took our time moving through the settlement, but even so, it was a long while before I could breathe normally and I was certain I would never be able to erase what I'd seen from my mind.

A distant rumbling caused me to jump, startled. I glanced around me then a bright flash drew my gaze to the sky.

"It does this every night," Han commented upon seeing my actions. "Step it up. I don't wanna get another shower like last night."

I hurried along beside him, not wanting another soaking either. We emerged from the winding alley into the main street. There were few people out and that suited me just fine. No one bothered us as we entered a tiny cantina.

Han led the way to a far corner of the room and plunked down at a table. I grabbed the chair across from him and gratefully sat down. I noticed for the first time that I was trembling. The drinks the Cap ordered were going to be a very welcome sight.

A clanking droid brought our order, setting the glasses on the end of the table. I reached for mine with an unsteady hand, hoping that Han wouldn't notice. I needn't have worried. When I glanced across the table at him, I saw he was fumbling with his vial of pills. After a few unsuccessful attempts, he managed to open the container with his left hand and spill the contents out onto the table. He scooped a couple up, popped them into his mouth and took a long drink. He leaned back -- eyes closed, right arm clutched to his chest -- to await the effect of both the pills and the ale.

"You all right?" I asked, after observing all of this in quiet concern.

He opened one eye to glare at me a moment, then he shut it again. "Yeah, I'm fine... well, I will be in a minute." He massaged his arm gingerly, finally opening both eyes. He leaned forward to press the glowing toggle, signalling an order, then sat back to wait. He studied me all the while.

"Are you okay?" he asked kindly, as if apologizing for his quick temper.

"Me? Oh, I'm fine... I'm fine," I hastened to assure him. I might have been too quick for he looked unconvinced.

"Sorry you had to see that, Ranny. I never expected anything..."

"Cap... I said I was all right."

"Yeah, I heard."

Conversation stopped as the droid reappeared, bearing an unopened bottle. Han grabbed it from him and poured us both another round. He waved the droid away, keeping the bottle at our table.

"I know this place is kinda rough," Han continued. "But things are rough all over the galaxy. I guess you have to get used to it."

"Cap, people don't get skinned alive all over the galaxy." The Corellian shrugged noncommittally at my statement. I sighed and went on. "At least not in the parts I've seen. Are we going to report Klamaar's death?" I wanted to get any legal obligations over with as soon as possible.

"Report?" The Cap looked incredulous. "To who?"

"To the local law."

"The local law, huh?" Han chuckled. "Kid, you have been at that Academy too long. Listen, Ran. Right off you need to learn a couple of things. First, I don't have much use for any kind of police. Second... there ain't any local law anymore."

"You're kidding," I told him in disbelief. "There has to be some kind of government."

"I don't know much about what there has to be, but there sure ain't any. Look around. Have you seen anyone official?"

"No, but..."

"There ain't any but's. It doesn't exist. And not just on this planet."

"That can't be. The New Republic..."

"Look, kid. The Rebellion was necessary, but it created a lot of problems."

"Problems?" I was having trouble comprehending what he was trying to say. He was shattering some long-standing precepts of mine and it was going to take some explaining.

"Ran, I ain't saying the Empire should've won or anything like that, but most of the planets in this galaxy had been ruled for so long by the Empire that they became dependent on the Imperials for what little law and order they had. The stormtroopers weren't anybody's friends, but they kept things under control to some extent. When the Empire collapsed, suddenly they were gone. All hell broke loose on most of the outer fringes. So we're on our own here. Nobody's gonna help us but ourselves."

I supposed he was right, though it was hard to believe that the Empire had done any good during its reign of oppression. I hadn't even thought about what might be going on in the galaxy while the New Republic organized itself. I'd just assumed that with its victory, the New Order would somehow spread throughout the worlds. But the Cap had been there. He'd seen it first-hand while I'd spent the last few years at the Academy, in the heart of the government, oblivious to any problems and fretting at my lack of adventure. I felt like the biggest fool in the universe.

I sat lost in thought and Han didn't bother me. I guess he knew I was trying to come to terms with many things. A major rearrangement of a person's thinking takes a lot of time and a great deal of concentration. I was going to have to ponder these ideas.

From somewhere in a corner of my mind, came a picture of my father. He'd struggled all his life to eke out a living on the harsh Tatooine dunes. He never sought for glory or recognition, yet in his own quiet way, he was a hero. He'd never given up, though there must've been a million easier ways. I suddenly recalled something he'd said years ago, during the final days of the Rebellion. I'd been nagging him to let me go fight, afraid I was going to miss everything -- much the same as now. He'd given me a firm refusal and then had smiled kindly at my heartbroken expression and said to me, They'll be plenty do yet, Son. Don't fret about it. The real battle is still ahead of us. That one'll take courageous men too... maybe better men. It's easier for most to step into a cockpit than a conference room. Hang on and your time will come.

I hadn't understood him then and later, at the Academy, I'd had no use for the tedious meetings and paperwork that seemed the main part of life. That couldn't have been the battle my father was talking about.

Yet now, because of Han Solo, Corellian smuggler and privateer, I caught a glimpse of what needed to be done... a faint glimmer of understanding of what my father had tried to tell me. The galaxy was free, but was in chaos. If left in this state of confusion for long, total anarchy would result, wiping out all the sacrifice and hardship. The worlds need to be united... organized for their own good or the valiant struggle that had taken so many, my own brothers among them, would all be for nothing... a wasted effort.

These were the thoughts occupying my mind as I slowly sipped at my drink, momentarily pushing aside the image of Klamaar's mutilated corpse or the thought of jewels or even the Cap's illness, but I could not stay detached from my surroundings forever. Distantly I became aware that Han had grown tense. I heard him clear his throat as he tried to get my attention.

With reluctance, I left my meditations for another time and reentered the world of the cantina, its noise and stale air intruding into my senses like an unwelcome guest. I brushed a hand across my brow and through my thick mop of hair, as if to clear away the last, lingering distractions. Once again I was sitting in the tavern across from Han, and I looked up expectantly, wondering what had unsettled him. He shifted his eyes behind me to signal there was someone there. I didn't turn, but I strained to hear... to catch some clue as to who it was.

I needn't have bothered. Too soon to ever please me, Jip pulled up a chair at our table, smiling broadly and acting as if he was our most cherished friend. I felt my fists clench under the table. Any trouble here was going to be Jip's.

I felt a sharp kick at my shin and I glanced over at Han. He shook his head ever so slightly, warning me to lighten up. I guess my feelings toward our unwanted visitor were plain for anyone to see. The Cap sat back and picked up his glass. I tried to do the same... to at least appear unconcerned. It was the hardest thing I'd ever done.

"Well, well, this is cozy, isn't it?" Jip drawled.

"It was," Han commented coldly.

The man did his best to look affronted, but the effect was spoiled by the suggestion of a smirk that crept into his features.

"I'll ignore that," Jip allowed amiably. "I know you've had a hard day."

I saw the quirk of an eyebrow on Han's face and I didn't even try to hide my reaction to his statement. He laughed a cold cackle that sent chills down my spine. I suddenly remembered all too clearly the carnage in the old building. My confidence in the Cap's assurance that Jip couldn't have committed the atrocity wavered.

"I told you before, I'm not dealing with you," Han reminded the man in a calm voice.

Jip looked sincerely puzzled. "I don't understand why you deal with that fool, Klamaar, but not me. I'm so much worse than he was? You wound me to the heart, Solo." That insolent smile was back. Jip was enjoying his little game.

"Why don't you take a walk," was Han's reply. "You're souring my drink."

"My, my. So hasty. You wouldn't be if you knew..."

"Knew what?" Han growled. "You keep stringing it out, Jip, and you'll lose it."

Jip was still for a moment, apparently weighing his options and deciding on how much to divulge without losing his price.

"Well... You've heard about poor Klamaar's, uh, demise, shall we call it?" Jip made a clicking noise in his teeth, mocking sorrow.

"That ain't exactly the scoop of the century," Han scoffed.

"No... but maybe you'd like to know who killed him, hmmm?"

"Maybe, maybe not. Why should it matter to me?"

I couldn't tell if the Cap was serious or just bluffing. I was certainly more than a little curious about the killer's identity.

"Well, it seems to me," Jip went on, "that whoever killed poor Klamaar, just might know what happened to the jewels."

"Klamaar have some jewels?" was Han's only comment.

"Now who's playing games?" Jip asked irritably. "You know as well as I do. Only maybe you don't know everything about those precious little stones... like where they came from or who might want them back."

"You're just a regular computer bank of information tonight, aren't you? I don't want to know anything. I ain't got the rocks and that's all I care about."

"But that situation might be altered."

"By you?" Han laughed.

Jip's eyes narrowed in anger. "You're not the only one who can make deals, Corellian. Or who deals can be made with."

"So go. I ain't keeping you here."

Jip hesitated, his eyes darting back and forth from Han to me. "There you go being hasty again. I'll be honest with you." Han laughed again. Jip scowled but ignored him. "I know how to get hold of something you want and you have something I want." His gaze returned to me and stayed there. "We should be able to reach an understanding." He gave me a leering grin.

I started to rise, ready to wipe that disgusting smile off his face. Almost before I'd cleared my chair, I felt Han's hand on my shoulder, pushing me back down. Somehow he'd managed to move even faster than I had. He stayed standing next to me, his good hand gripping my shoulder tightly.

"No deal, Jip. I ain't got anything to give you."

Jip studied us both, frowning to himself, obviously thinking furiously.

"Well..." he finally drawled, pulling at his chin. "Perhaps I misread the situation. I could compromise with you. If you want him for yourself and won't give him to me, how about a loan? Just a couple of nights. He'll be none the worse for wear... maybe even better for the experience. He'd be back on board the Falcon, safe and sound and ready for whatever you..."

That's all he got out. I lunged forward and the Cap's one-handed grasp on my shoulder couldn't hold me. Blinded with hate, incensed at his words, I tackled the unprepared Jip and we both went over with his chair. I was in pretty good shape, but Jip was stronger than his wiry frame appeared and I had my hands full. Still, I managed to get in a few good blows to his head and stomach. There was no method in my attack. Mostly I just wanted to smear his face off.

We rolled across the cantina floor and somehow I ended up on top of things. After a few moments of wrestling and pounding, I felt Jip go limp under me. I automatically relaxed my hold. It was a mistake, for instantly a stabbing pain shot through me as I received Jip's bony knee in my groin. Over we rolled again and now it was my turn on the bottom... to feel the gut-wrenching blows to my abdomen.

From somewhere far away, I could hear my name being shouted, but the roaring of blood in my ears deafened me to recognition. I couldn't breathe and I couldn't stop Jip from pummeling me. His face grinned at me the whole time like a twisted and grotesque caricature out of some forgotten nightmare.

And then he was gone. At the point when I could stand it no longer, I was spared. Without stopping to ask questions, I scrambled away, half-crawling, clutching at my stomach and trying to catch my breath. After getting clear of where I'd been pinned, I turned to see what had become of my enemy. Across the room from me, the Cap had his good arm around Jip's throat. Evidently he'd gotten hold of him and dragged him off of me. I couldn't hear what was being said between them, but even as I watched, Han pushed Jip away from him. The thin man hit the wall with a dull thud and slid down to sit on the floor, dazed.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Han was now making his way to me. I straightened up as much as I could, trying to ignore the needle sharp pains as I did so. It seemed like the Cap was always getting me out of one scrape or another. I didn't want to be any more of a bother than I already was.

"You all right?" he asked, an odd expression on his face. I couldn't tell if he was mad at me for losing control or proud that I'd had the guts to do it.

I nodded my head. I still hadn't caught my breath enough to talk.

He shook his head. "You might have had him, but Jip doesn't fight fair. Remember that..."

I saw him coming. I tried to warn Han, but only succeed in getting out a raspy, half-choked, "Cap..."

The Corellian, alerted to some kind of threat, had only part-way turned to defend himself before Jip was there.

He grabbed Han's right arm, whirling the unprepared smuggler off-balance, and landed a fierce blow to his jaw. Han went sprawling, crashing into tables and chairs. I heard a half-stifled cry of pain form my friend as he landed heavily on his side. He didn't get up.

That should have ended it. I thought Jip would be satisfied with having beaten both of us, but he stepped toward the fallen Corellian and my disbelieving eyes spotted the glint of a knife in his hand. The sight of it finally sparked me into action. Before I knew what I was doing, my blaster was in my hand. Unconscious of ever having fired it, I was as astonished as Jip when the knife went flying from his burned fingers.

He let out a high-pitched yelp and clutched his hand, giving me a moment to recover my frazzled wits and get my bearings. With more confidence than I had any right to feel, I adopted a slight swagger and moved over to kneel down next to Han, my blaster leveled at Jip's chest the whole time.

Not daring to take my eyes off the cringing Jip, I let my hand on Han's chest reassure me he was still breathing.

"Cap... Cap, are you okay?"

I heard a groan and risked a darting glanced before focusing on Jip again. Han's eyes were tightly shut, his face contorted with pain. Infuriated at the abuse he'd taken because of me, I rose slowly and advanced on Jip, my weapon unwavering.

"Get out of here!" I ordered harshly. "Or I'll blast your head off!"

Jip's face was distorted with hate and I thought for a moment he was going to spit at me. I almost wish he had. I would've loved an excuse to blow him away. Instead, he slowly backed off toward the exit. Just as he was going to disappear out the door, he stopped, his eyes red and flashing.

"Just wait! You'll be sorry you didn't deal with me. You tell that Corellian dog, he'll regret tonight." His eyes narrowed even more. "And as for you, my pretty young friend... I'll take care of you in my own way." With those foreboding words, he disappeared into the blackness of the night.

I turned back to the main room and saw the few curious onlookers drifting away to whatever they were doing before the outburst of violence had interrupted them. Ignoring their looks, I pushed aside the toppled furniture and found Han sitting up, leaning against a wall. His eyes were closed, his face ashen and drawn. I knelt down at his side and I could see small beads of perspiration on his brow and upper lip. His jaw muscles were taut, telling me without words that he was still in extreme pain.

"Cap?" I touched his arm to let him know I was there.

"What happened... to Jip?" Han gasped out between clenched teeth.

"He's gone. He didn't like the look of my blaster." I didn't bother telling him the rest. Why should I worry him when he was in such a state.

"Slimy bastard," Han commented weakly.

"You're right there," I agreed. "Can you stand? I think we ought to get out of here."

Han's eyes opened like a shot to glare at me. "Of course I can stand," he retorted, a bit more like his old self. "Just give me a hand up."

The hand I grasped was shaky, but I pretended not to notice as I pulled Han to his feet. He practically fell again, but I managed to get his arm around my shoulders to steady him. It had to have hurt terribly and I knew it embarrassed him, but at least he was staying upright. He swallowed his Corellian pride and kept any further comments to himself.

"Okay?" I wanted to wait until he was braced and steady.

"Yeah, yeah... let's get outta here."

It was awkward going. The difference in our heights was the only good thing about the arrangement, for it made it easier for Han to lean on me. Even so, the trip across the cantina floor took a long time. The Cap's face showed the strain of every step. The glassiness of his eyes worried me, but there was nothing to be done. We had to get to the ship and I didn't think I would be able to carry him, even if he would've let me. I took as much weight on me as I could. His right leg was barely working at all.

When we finally made it out the door, I stopped for a moment to get my bearings. Since we'd arrived in the dark and in a pretty much harried frame of mind, I really had no idea where we were. I also wanted to give Han a chance to rest without having to ask for it. Already his breath was coming in labored pants and I knew we'd be stopping often.

"To the right," he told me in a ragged voice. "The bays are off to the right."

It was his signal to get it in gear and stop worrying about him. We started off again, hobbling along in the ebony night. I would be glad to reach the safety of the Falcon. The memory of Jip's parting words still echoed chillingly in my mind, and along with them, was the ever-present picture of Klamaar's body. Too much had happened for me to feel comfortable out in the open -- an easy mark for any wandering enemy. My nerves were frayed and I was as jumpy as a Tusken Raider. My eyes strained at the darkness, trying to make shapes out of the emptiness.

A deafening crash nearly sent me right out of my skin and I felt the first few drops of the rain I'd forgotten in the midst of everything else that had happened.

"Great, that's all we need," I muttered and looked up at Han for his reaction. There was none. Illuminated by the lightning, the Corellian's face was twisted in a grimace. It was taking all his concentration to keep going and I doubted that he even registered the rain. I repressed the words of sympathy and encouragement that were on the tip of my tongue. They wouldn't help his pain and he would only resent them.

We trudged on. Somehow, aside from a few scattered droplets, the rain held off. Grateful for small favors, I didn't waste time wondering about it. More and more of the Cap's weight was falling on me and I knew he wasn't going to be on his feet much longer. His strength was going and my own was being taxed beyond what I'd ever thought I could bear. We were going to have to rest, however much we needed to hurry, or neither of us would make it to the ship.

I glanced around, searching for an inconspicuous niche to hole up in. Ahead a bit, I could barely make out the outline of a tall building, its outside staircase running the length of the structure from the roof to the ground. I made for that, hoping to it as cover. We had better luck than I expected. The stairwell didn't stop at the ground, but continued to a basement level entrance, making the perfect spot to take a breather.

I helped Han ease himself down the few steps. He sat with a whispered groan that my own neck and shoulders echoed, and I watched in concern as he stretched his long body across the stairs and lowered his head onto his good arm. He was quiet after that. Since there was nothing I could do for him, I stood by helplessly, fidgeting and rubbing kinks out of my muscles. To keep my mind from useless worry, I moved to stand at the top of the steps and gazed out around us, keeping watch.

There wasn't much to see. The occasional lightning only revealed grim, gray outlines of bleak buildings. Gloomily, I rested my chin on the iron railing. I was worn out; every part of my body ached from the punishment I'd taken tonight. Standing there, with nothing to do but watch the streaking shafts of electricity light up the sky, I found myself marveling at how quiet it was between the peals of thunder that rumbled every so often. First, a crashing burst, then a deathly stillness. It might have been a beautiful thing to experience if things had been different. As it was, I found it a mild distraction for my weary soul.

I heard Han stir behind me and I turned to find him sitting up, his shoulder braced against the stone wall. He was massaging his leg, trying to rub some life into the near-useless limb. I went back to studying the horizon before he could catch me staring at him and accuse me of playing nursemaid.

A quiet pattering told me the rain was finally on its way. The thunder claps grew less frequent and more distant as the water from the clouds increased in strength. We were in for it now. There would be no way to avoid a drenching. It would be a topper to a wonderful evening.

I was staring at nothing in particular, just watching the darkness, when the sky lit up with a flash and I caught a flicker of movement in that brief moment of illumination. I tensed, my hand going for my blaster and pulling it out slowly.

"What is it?" I heard Han ask as he shuffled up next to me.

I never took my eyes from the street as I shrugged my shoulders. "I'm not sure. Could be nothing."

"Not likely."

I heard him reach clumsily for his own blaster. It wasn't very comforting. I didn't know what he thought he could possibly do when it was a losing battle for him to even stand up, but I suppose it made him feel better. All the same, I wasn't going to let him do anything stupid, no matter how much he hated me for it.

"Cap, you stay here. I'll go check it out."

"Now, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," Han commented calmly.

"I guess you have a better idea," I snapped, hurt at his attitude. I'd expected him to be angry, outraged, indignant, but that quiet scornful remark cut like a knife. It was as if he'd expected better of me and I hadn't measure up. It seemed the story of my life.

"Not really," Han replied, "but I ain't about to sit around and let you do my fighting for me."

We were both silent for a moment... listening, but the only sound was that of the rain bouncing off the ground.

"This ain't even your fight, Ran," Han finally spoke up. "I never meant for you to get involved in this."

"Does that make any difference now?" I asked. "I'm here. Besides, I owe you... for a lot."

I could feel Han's eyes on me. It was the first time either of us had mentioned any debts from the past. Maybe it was time.

After a moment, Han merely turned back to scan the street. "Not enough to get yourself killed for," he replied.

"I don't plan on dying," I informed him.

"No one ever does, kid," Han said softly, with a quiet resignation that reached into my soul and twisted it. Had he given up then? I would've rather had him yelling at me. Coming from Han Solo, this calm surrender to fate unnerved me and left me shaken.

An ear-splitting screech caused us both to dive for our scant cover, ending thoughts of anything but the immediate crisis. The noise continued on for a long moment, gradually changing to a mournful wail and then fading into some kind of chant. I realized I had my eyes closed, waiting for instant death, and I forced them open when I sensed I was still breathing. I looked over at Han and could see the gleam of his sharp eyes trying to probe the darkness. Another cry rose up, higher pitched this time, as if in answer to the first cry.

"What is it?" I whispered hoarsely, when I finally found my voice.

Han shook his head. "There's at least two of 'em out there."

"Can you see them?"

"Not real clear, but they're not far. Just over in that cluster of stores."

My fingers tightened their hold on my blaster. Whatever happened, I was determined not to suffer Klamaar's fate. No one, not even a degenerate like Jip, deserved that kind of death. More loud chanting drifted over the sound of the rain. If they were trying to frighten us, they were doing a pretty good job. I was scared out of my wits.

The noise went on and on. We stayed frozen where we were, not wanting to give away our position by trying to run. An hour must have passed and the steady descant droned on, occasionally interrupted by another high-pitched scream. At each outcry, I jumped, startled anew. I don't know how the Cap remained calm, but I hated to think what I might've done if he wasn't with me.

Suddenly the voices stopped. The rain had lessened to a quiet patter and now that was the only sound in the deadly night. The stillness was almost worse than the chanting. For uncountable, agonizing minutes we waited in silence. Then we heard them again.

"Soloooo..." came the piercing shriek from across the muddy street. It sounded like a woman's voice.

I glanced at Han, but his only reaction was to shift his weight as he tried to ease the pain in his leg.

"You're a dead man, Solo," crooned a deeper, male voice.

A whining bolt of energy whizzed over our heads, splintering the wall behind us and showering us with bits of mortar and metal.

"Solo," the female called again. "Cretan has passed judgement. The sentence for defiling his temple is death."

Another blast tore into the building, closer this time. It was obvious they knew where we were and weren't just taking pot shots.

"Damn it anyway," Han swore. "We can't just stay here and wait for them to hit us."

I saw him rubbing his leg again and I knew he was sizing up his chances of making a break for it. He had to have come to the same conclusion I had a long time ago. There was no way under the stars he could even make an attempt and I could tell by the fervor of his movements, he was just beginning to face that ugly truth.

Watching him filled me with a sense of something I could only describe as guilt. The Cap was ill, totally incapacitated. I should've been taking care of him, but here I sat, a frightened child, letting him do all the worrying... all the planning... taking all the responsibility for both of us. But I couldn't move; I couldn't speak. I was powerless to help him. My soul was in the grip of paralyzing fear. I was facing the test I had longed for all my life and I was failing miserably.

More blaster fire sounded from the other building, passing so close I could feel the heat on my face. Another shot rang out next to my ear and I knew Han had fired off a volley. Surprisingly, there was no return blast.

Han peered out into the night, then took a deep breath. "I ain't got anything you want," he shouted. "You might as well go home."

A chortling laugh floated over from the hidden attackers.

"You think us fools, Corellian? Cretan himself has led us to you. You must die!"

I had no idea what they were talking about. Cretan was apparently some kind of deity, but why this alien god had decided Han Solo needed to die was beyond me.

"I don't know who the hell Cretan is," Han yelled back, "but he sure got his signals crossed. Your information is all wrong. I ain't done nothin' to your precious temple."

"You lie!"

Another blast passed over our heads.

"You were with the demon, Klamaar. You helped him defile the holy place."

I frowned in puzzlement. Jip had mentioned something about knowing where the missing jewels came from.

"Cap, did Klamaar steal..."

"I don't know," Han barked defensively. "I don't ask questions." He was silent a moment. "If he did rob these people's temple, he sure as hell paid for it. I didn't have anything to do with it and I ain't about to die for somethin' that fat son of a bitch did."

The defiance in his voice rang false, for it was quite possible he was going to die for what Klamaar had done. We both were. He knew that. He looked at me, and even in the darkness, I saw regret in his eyes-- the unspoken apology for dragging me into this. Then he jerked his head back to study the street. He pushed himself away from the concrete stairwell.

"Get ready to run," he whispered fiercely.

"Run? Are you crazy?"

"Shut up. I'm gonna get you outta here."

I didn't know how, but there was still enough hero worship left in me to trust him completely. If he said we were getting away, then we were. But as he fumbled with his blaster, I realized he hadn't said we. He'd said you. He was going to save my skin.

"Cap... you can't..."

I shut up as he leveled his blaster at my nose.

"Don't tell me what I can or can't do. Just run like hell." He moved to crouch on the stairs, gathering his courage for the break. "Tell Chewie I'm sorry," he muttered. Then, without looking back, he scrambled up out of the cellar. "See ya around, kid," was the last thing I heard before he broke into a kind of war cry and burst into the open street, his gun firing as rapidly as he could squeeze the trigger.

I let him go. I stood there as he ran to sacrifice his life for me. I never made a move to stop him. Something odd was happening around me. Everything seemed to be in slow motion and I couldn't make my body do what my heart wanted to.

I saw a tall, blue-skinned figure emerge from the other building, firing his weapon at the charging Corellian. I watched it all and I couldn't even run like the Cap had told me. His gesture was going to be for nothing if I didn't escape, yet still I stood glued to the spot, my blaster silent in my trembling hand. I knew I was letting him down. I was a coward.

I saw a bolt of red energy hit Han in his good leg. He fell to his knees, but somehow he kept shooting. Miraculously, the alien went down, hit by one of the Corellian's crazily aimed shots. A roar went up from the remaining creature. I thought for sure that Han was going to be dead at any moment, but instead of taking advantage of his wounded prey, the surviving alien bolted out from cover and ran away, becoming invisible as the black night swallowed him up.

It was as if a spell had been removed, for now my legs began to move. Clumsily, I tripped my way up the stairs. Now that the danger was passed, I could go to Han and at least see to his injury. The night was peaceful again; even the rain had stopped.

But something was wrong. Even as I made my way out to the kneeling smuggler, he gave a strangled cry and fell forward onto his face. A last shaft of lightning reflected off the knife rising up out of his back.

"Cap!"

I turned in the direction of the attack and found myself face to face with Jip. He was grinning triumphantly. All his obstacles were gone. He could have everything he'd wanted from the beginning. He started to walked toward the fallen Corellian, but I ran forward to stand over the body of my friend. No one was going to touch him.

"Ah," Jip exclaimed softly. "So you're still here. Not much help in the end, were you?" That maddening grin bored into my very being. "He should have given you to me after all. It would have saved him a lot of trouble."

"Probably," I agreed and raised my hand to reveal my blaster.

Jip didn't look ruffled. He'd apparently measured me up and decided I posed no threat.

"Let's not make this difficult, little one. Come with me and I'll treat you better than this dog ever did. But we don't have much time. Do you think this one's mate ran because he was afraid?" Jip pointed at the dead form. "No, he went to bring help. So let's be reasonable. I didn't mean to hurt you before. I can make it up to you."

Jip stepped toward me and I moved my hand up higher, shoving my blaster practically into his face. He smiled patiently.

"What do you intend to do if you kill me? Stay here and die with your comrade? Is he really worth that? What did he ever do for you?"

"He gave me his life," I answered.

Jip rolled his pink eyes heavenward in exasperation. "Great stars! Honor and all that, eh? Well, I'll soon work that out of you."

Abruptly, he lunged at my gun hand. Without any hesitation, my finger moved on the trigger.

The smile finally faded from Jip's face, to be replaced by a look of astonishment as he clutched at his abdomen. He seemed to totter for a moment, then he crumpled to the ground like a puppet whose master had dropped the strings.

Remembering his past deceits, I moved toward him cautiously. I wanted to make sure he was dead. Gingerly, I prodded his chest with my boot, then gave him a shove and rolled him over onto his back. I squatted down next to him and placed my hand on his chest. There was no movement, but there was an odd bulge under his shirt. Curious, I reached in to pull out a small leather pouch. I knew what it was without having to look. He'd had the jewels all the time and had simply pitted the aliens and us against each other. I stuffed the bag into my own shirt. Jip had no use for the stones any longer. He was as dead as an old sandworm.

Now, with the most heartfelt reluctance, I turned back to the Cap, his fallen form still lying face down in the mud. How could I ever atone for what I'd done to him? What a shameful waste for him to have died for such a despicable coward as myself. I jammed my blaster into my holster and knelt beside him.

"I'm sorry," I choked out, though it couldn't change anything. I had to say it. I felt I should never stop saying it.

I reached out my hand, meaning to pluck out the offending instrument of death, but I recoiled at the feel of his blood on my hands, still warm and flowing from the wound.

"Can't you even do that?" I berated myself angrily. Steeling myself to the task, I grabbed the handle and carefully dislodged it.

A soft, piteous groan sounded in my ears, causing me to drop the knife in utter disbelief. I hastily recovered my wits and I placed one hand on the Cap's arm. The other reached to his neck to feel for the vital life flow. It was there, faint and fluttering, but it was there. He was alive. Jip hadn't won yet and he wouldn't if I could help it.

"Hold on, Cap," I pleaded, hoping to encourage that weak hold on life.

Almost in a frenzy, lest he should die now that there was a chance, I ripped at my shirt sleeve, tearing it off to use as a bandage. I pressed it tenderly to the oozing wound, afraid of hurting him, but more afraid he was going to bleed to death before my eyes. I looked around for something to keep it there and finally came up with more strips of cloth, torn from my other sleeve.

After securing the makeshift dressing in place, I carefully turned Han over, taking him half-way into my lap. How was I ever going to get him to the Falcon? He needed immediate attention. I wished Chewie was here with his strong, Wookie arms.

Han uttered another weak moan.

"It's all right, Cap. Just hang on."

I didn't know if he could hear me, but I wanted to be sure, if he could, that he knew I hadn't completely run out on him. It was important to me for him to know I was here.

I had no more time for thinking. Abruptly, that nightmarish wail rose up from a distant street. I felt the blood freeze in my veins and my heart seemed to stop. Jip said the alien had gone for help. He'd been right. There were more than the two Han had confronted. One guilty hand reached for the leather pouch. There would be no reasoning with them, especially if caught with their sacred gems. Panicked, I took the bag and flung it over toward Jip's corpse.

The cry sounded again, closer this time. Terrified into mobility, I didn't stop to think about anything. I had to get the Cap away from here. I stooped down, and with some difficulty, slung Han across my shoulders in the ancient carry. Somehow I managed to stand, staggering under the weight. The Cap was a big man and my slight frame had already been taxed to the breaking point tonight, but there was no question of leaving him. Our pursuers would not be merciful.

Walking was an almost impossible feat. With every step I took in the muddy road, my balance was an undecided question, but somehow I plodded on -- muscles straining, back breaking. The only thing in my mind was the vision of the fate we both would suffer if we were caught. It drove me on when my strength was all but gone. I only prayed the Cap would survive the ordeal.

Each step grew more difficult and I seriously began to wonder if I was going to be able to make it. My breath was coming in ragged, gasping heaves. My lungs were burning; my legs were rubber under me. Occasionally I would stumble, but somehow, miraculously, I never fell. If I had, I doubt I would've ever gotten up again. And always the bellowing of the followers of Cretan spurred me on.

And then, like a gift from the gods, I found a building I recognized. It was the first of the docking facilities. Hope that I might make it after all sprang into my heart, but the demonic wail cried out to crush it. They were close on my heels. My burdened, staggering strides marked my trail plainly. I would never make it all the way to the Falcon's bay. We were doomed and there was no one to turn to for help. The Cap had made that all too clear.

Wearily, I glanced around for some way out. I must've blinked at the bronze plaque on the bay wall for several dazed seconds before I made the connection. The number 10 was proclaimed there for all to see. Realization struck me like one of this planet's thunder claps. The Shooting Star was docked here. My ship would save us. There was no need to go all the way to the Falcon. Relief flooded through me, buoying me up and sparking in my exhausted body, some last reserve of strength.

I stumbled into the bay, the lights blindingly bright. The Shooting Star sat there like a beacon of hope, drawing me toward her. I fumbled with the door seal and staggered up the ramp, closing and locking the hatch behind me. I found my way into my cabin and eased Han's heavy body onto my bunk. A quick, frightened check told me he was still with me, though he was a ghastly sight, covered with blood and mud. I was hardly aware that I must've looked the same.

I felt a momentary sense of safety, although my small ship would not offer us security forever. It was urgent we get out of here... off this planet entirely. We needed a safe haven in a dangerous galaxy and the only place I could think of was home. I would take the Cap to Tatooine... to the family who'd always been able to soften life's sharp corners.

Trembling, on the verge of collapsing myself, I sat at the ship's controls and prepared to take off. The first thing that needed to be done was to inform Chewie what had happened, though I wasn't sure how to do that when any conversation with the Wookie was one-sided. I had no idea how long I had before the hunting aliens would find my ship. There wouldn't be time for any guessing games at translation. And then another thought struck me with horror. The aliens had known Han's name. They must also know his ship and where she was berthed. What if they'd attacked the Falcon with the unsuspecting Chewie aboard her? I had to find out.

I channeled ship communications to the private scramble frequency Han used and held my breath, not willing to believe that the Wookie might be dead. After an agonizing moment of silence a deep growl filtered through my headset and I exhaled noisily.

"Chewie, it's Ranny. Listen to me." I was talking as fast as I could, words tumbling over each other in my haste to warn him. I took no more thought about understanding him. I knew he comprehended me and that was all that was necessary. "I don't have much time," I told him. "Han's been hurt and somebody's after us. Klamaar's dead and the jewels are gone. Button up the Falcon and get out of there. We're leaving on my ship."

I heard him yowling questions, but there wasn't any more time. Already I could detect the aliens inside the bay.

"Chewie... Chewie, shut up!" I ordered. "There's no more time. Meet us on Tatooine."

I switched off and punched the ship into movement. It wasn't a moment too soon, for I heard the whine of energy bolts and the ship's deflector screens snapped on just as we lifted off. Through the cockpit viewer, I could see several beings scrambling away from the blast of energy from my engines. Then we were gone, out of the bay and out of their range.

We'd made it. It wasn't long before we were in orbit around Montellia. A few final course adjustments and we shot out into deep space. One last calculation melted us into the anonymity of hyper-space.

I sighed heavily, letting myself relax a minute. I lowered my head onto my arms and closed my eyes. The waves of fatigue that washed over me were almost painful in their intensity. I needed to get up and tend to the Cap, but all I could do was sit there, oblivious to anything else, just grateful to be alive.

I don't know how long I stayed there in the cockpit, but I gradually became aware of my surroundings again. I lifted my head and rubbed at my eyes, trying to clear some of the fog that was clouding my brain. I pushed myself up from the pilot's seat, forcing my legs to hold my weight. Shakily, they took me to the door of my cabin. It was all I could do to make myself go to Han's side. The memory of what I'd done to him was torturing my heart.

As carefully as I could, I removed Han's sodden clothing, then dumbly, I went about cleaning and redressing the knife wound. I didn't know what else I could do for him. My medical knowledge was limited. If he died, it would be my fault. There was no one else to blame. It was with a heavy heart that I kept a silent vigil at his side. He never opened his eyes... never spoke. He merely kept breathing, the shallow sound reaching my ears accusingly.

The trip to Tatooine was one long blur. Mercifully my mind seemed to shut out all perception of anything beyond the necessary. I remembered very little, but when my home world finally loomed in my sight, I felt something again stir in my soul. I had signalled ahead that I was coming. Everything should be ready for our arrival at Anchorhead. Yet still something restless and disquieting deep inside of me refused to allow me any comfort. The conscience can be a powerful enemy and right now mine was relentlessly subjecting me to an awful beating. Tatooine's image on the screen only intensified the punishment, for it brought up fresh reminders of the courage of my father and brothers, a legacy that had now ended with me.

It was in this agonized frame of mind that I set my ship in the small bay. I shut the systems down, supposing the ordeal was over. Whatever took place now was out of my hands. As I rose from my seat, I noticed the cockpit was behaving strangely. The lights and panels wouldn't stay in one place, but rather whirled and swayed before my eyes. I grabbed at the bulkhead for balance and staggered over to open the main hatch.

A man with a healer's insignia on his tunic met me with a questioning expression. I jerked my thumb over my shoulder, indicating his patient was inside. The man pushed past me in his haste and I almost fell on my face. Clutching the doorway for support, my eyes fell upon another figure hurrying toward the ship. Plump legs carried her to the ramp, her once-black hair, now almost completely gray, was disarrayed, but she was the most beautiful and welcome sight I could imagine. As she climbed up the ramp, her arms outstretched, I saw the worry in her dark eyes and I knew I was home. I took a step toward her, stumbled and fell. She caught me up in those arms before I could hit the floor.

"Mama," I choked out before all the grief, guilt and fatigue caught up with me. I felt her arms tighten around me, as if I were a little boy instead of a grown man, trying to absorb the sobs that racked my chest.

"It's okay, baby. It's okay," I heard her say soothingly. And then the world went dark and I couldn't remember anything else for a long time.

* * *

When life gradually began to come into focus for me, I found myself lying in a soft bed in a strange room. It wasn't our homestead, but then I remembered we had no homestead. I must be at my mother and sister's new home in town.

I lay there, my body numb, my brain unable to fasten on anything in particular, when the door slid open and my mother entered bearing a tray laden with food. I'd never felt less hungry. I watched her as she set it down on the table next to the bed, but I turned away from the tender eyes she fixed on me.

"How's the Cap?" I had to ask it, though I was dreadfully afraid of what her answer might be. I had to know the truth. If I'd killed him, I wanted to know it now.

She sat on the side of my bed, silent for a moment, then she reached over to take my hand in hers.

"The healer said he had a nasty wound, but it should heal." I saw her frown slightly. "That's not all that's wrong with him though. They're going to run some tests."

I nodded my head. "He's been in a lot of pain."

"Do you want to tell me about it, son?" she asked quietly.

It was an invitation, not an order, but I still felt compelled to tell her... to at least try, even if I wasn't sure how to explain. How could I tell her how much Han had meant to me and how I'd betrayed any trust he had? I began haltingly; the words didn't come easy. I don't think I made much sense. Most of the time my mother looked bewildered at what I was saying. She knew who Han was -- I'd talked about him enough the last eleven years. But that was about all I was certain she understood. As my story drew to a close, the lines in her forehead deepened.

"He was sick and I let them kill him," I finished up. "Mama, I let them kill him."

"But you're wrong, Son. Your friend isn't dead." Mama's voice was puzzled.

"No, but that's not because of anything I did." I threw my arms across my face. "I don't belong in this family. I'm not a Darklighter. I'm a coward!"

"A coward?" I could hear a tinge of anger in Mama's voice. "Randall Darklighter, wherever did you get an idea like that?" She grabbed my wrists and pulled my arms away from my face. "Listen here, young man." Her face was stern. "I may not understand everything that went on or what all happened to you two on that planet, but let me ask you this... if you're such a coward, who saved your friend's life? Who brought him here? The healer took a look at you too. You were in pretty bad shape yourself. Seems to me you didn't exactly sit by and watch."

"But I did, Mama. I did!" I cried in despair. "I let him go out and risk his life for me. He was sick... he could hardly walk, and I stood by and didn't lift a finger to stop him. What would Biggs think of me?"

Mama's eyes flashed with something I couldn't understand. "Biggs would think you were feeling sorry for yourself." Then her voice softened. "But he would be proud you didn't let your friend die."

I looked up at my mother and saw her tear-filled eyes. Even after this long, speaking of either of my brothers brought back a certain sorrow. She reached down to lay a loving hand on my cheek.

"Ranny... honey... everybody has the right to be afraid. There's no such thing as the hero you think your brother was. Biggs was a good boy. He would've been a great man, if he'd lived... but he was still a human being. You can't punish yourself for not being something no one could ever be."

"Mama..."

"I know. You don't think I understand. But let me ask you something. Your friend risked his life for you because he wanted to. No one made him. Do you really think you could have stopped him?"

I pondered that a moment. "Well... he was pretty weak. I could've taken his blaster if I'd tried."

"What would that have accomplished, except maybe humiliating him? From what you've told me, that would've been worse than letting him die. He wouldn't have been your friend any longer."

I hadn't thought about that, but it still didn't excuse my behavior.

"Son, I don't want to argue about it with you. You need to rest. But you think about what I told you." She rose to go, but paused at the door. "Ranny, the worst judge a person ever has is himself. Don't be too harsh." With those parting words, she left the room.

I did think about it. As I recovered my strength, I did nothing but thing about it and I still couldn't justify my actions or forgive myself. Neither could I bring myself to see Han.

He was recovering from his knife wound. Mama and Sarah tended to his needs and the healer came and went, but I couldn't go to his room. Mama told me every day he asked for me, but I couldn't see him. I didn't want to face the disappointment that he must feel about me.

Several days passed in this strained manner. Mama didn't speak to me of it and Sarah was too enchanted with our visitor to take any notice of me. After all, I was only her brother. She spent as much time as Mama would allow taking him things and talking to him. I spent my time brooding.

I was engaged in this occupation late one afternoon, sitting on a high stool in my mother's kitchen. My attention was focused on the rapidly disappearing Tatoo I. The footsteps I heard coming up behind me hardly registered in my distracted thoughts. It wasn't until I heard the stool next to me being pulled out and a slight, male grunt as the newcomer perched himself upon it, that I knew it wasn't anyone from my family.

I didn't turn around. I sat staring out at the sunset, wishing I could disappear with the sinking sun.

"I'm glad to see you're alive and well," Han commented conversationally. "I was beginning to wonder." He waited, I suppose for me to respond. When I didn't, he continued. "Where you been keepin' yourself?"

I knew I would have to acknowledge his presence. "I'm glad you're all right," I said, ignoring his questions. "I didn't expect to see you up this soon."

"I'm not supposed to be." He chuckled softly. "Healers! If they had their way, the whole galaxy would be in bed."

The thought that had been nagging at me caused me to finally turn to face him, though I never met his eyes. "But are you really all right? He said he was going to run some test."

Han waved his hand in my face and I realized it was his right one.

"See? Good as new. Well, almost. Anyway, I guess I'm okay. He gave me some stuff to take." He smiled slightly. "Nervous disorder, he said. Disorder? More like disaster. A leftover present from some time I spent in cold storage. But I'll be around for a while yet. You're not rid of me. I'll probably go sooner than I wanted to, but then, who doesn't?"

He was trying to brush it aside for my benefit. Long term or not, it was still a death sentence and it must've bothered him. But at least he wasn't refusing to believe it.

"I'm glad it's not worse." I turned back to the window. Tatoo I was gone, but its faithful companion was following close behind it.

"Yeah, Ran... everybody has to face a few unpleasant things in their lives."

I heard the sincerity in his voice -- the open invitation to tell him what was bothering me, but I still couldn't respond. Whatever it was churning inside of me held me in its grip and wouldn't let me. Still Han pressed me, with more patience than I'd have credited him.

"I talked to your mother quite a bit these last few days. Nice lady. She's worried about you."

"I know."

The only sound in the house was the whirring of the clock on the wall. Han was waiting for me and I knew I was being difficult. The Cap wasn't going to sit there forever.

"Listen, kid. I wasn't out of it the whole time, you know. I heard what went on between you and Jip, so this little play for sympathy ain't gonna work on me."

"Sympathy?" I turned around, indignant that he thought I could be so petty. "Is that what you think?"

"What else?"

"You don't understand. How could you? You've never been afraid. You're a big hero of the Rebellion. You never had to prove anything."

Han's face softened. "Ranny, the only person you have to prove anything to is yourself. And you're wrong about the hero junk. I don't know how you got so mixed up about me. I'm just an ordinary smuggler, trying to stay alive."

"Oh, Cap. Come on. I know all about the fights you've been in. You even got a medal for the Death Star."

I noticed Han's face take on a red flush that I mistook for modesty.

"You don't know everything, Ran. You wanna hear a story? I've always been afraid to tell you... thought you might hate me. But I guess you'd better know now. I ran out on 'em back then. Ran out on Luke, the Princess, the whole damn Rebellion."

"But you came back. Luke told me all about it... about how you helped him destroy the Death Star..."

"But not soon enough. I was only thinking about myself... saving my own skin. By the time I got there, it was too late."

"Too late for what?"

"Damn it, kid! Your brother died because of me. Can't you understand? That precious big brother of yours was the last one to die. If I'd come back one minute sooner... but I didn't and I've had to live knowing you and knowing that." He sighed heavily. His voice was husky with emotion. "Everybody's afraid sometimes. If you're lucky, nobody gets hurt for it. If not... well, you still go on living and you try and make up for it. But you don't curl up into a ball and quit trying. You had a natural reaction during all that blaster fire... you were afraid. But you sure as hell made up for it. You coped. That's all anybody can do." He sighed again. "But if you'd rather wallow in self-pity, go ahead. But don't expect me to stick around to help you. I've got my own problems."

He slid off the stool and started for the door, still limping slightly.

"Cap... Cap, wait." I hurried over to where he was standing. "Cap, I... I guess we all make mistakes. I..." I felt tears welling up in my eyes and my throat constricting. I had to get the words out before I made a spectacle of myself. "As long as we don't let them ruin our lives... I guess that's what counts." For the first time I let our eyes meet and was surprised to see his were also misty. "My brother would've thought so too, Cap."

He gave me a crooked smile and reached out as if to tousle my hair. He stopped, remembering I wasn't a little boy. Then it seemed he just decided, what the hell, and he took me into an awkward but affectionate embrace. Then he was gone, walking off down the hall to his room. I let him go. We both needed to be alone right now.

I wandered back to my stool and absent-mindedly sat down. Both the suns were gone now and with then had gone my self-recrimination. I would always remember my behavior with self-conscious scorn, but I wouldn't let it keep me from living. Maybe I wasn't a born soldier, but maybe I didn't need to be. The times that had produced men like my brother no longer existed. I had coped, as Han put it. I could be proud of that.

I sat watching the horizon in the rapidly waning light, suddenly thinking of the battle my father had talked about years ago. Perhaps that was the place my courage lay. I was going to have to find out.

Life returned to normal. The days went by smoothly, interrupted only by the arrival of the Millennium Falcon. Chewie had finally made sense out of my frantic and garbled message and followed us here. I had watched the reunion of Corellian and Wookie, heartily glad that they seemed to have forgotten all harsh words spoken between them. I supposed that was the way of true friendship. They had weathered many storms and came out stronger for it.

They would be leaving soon. Han was fit to travel now and was restless to be off. I would be sorry to see them go. I had a feeling I wouldn't be seeing them much, if at all, but I knew my friend's need to be in space. The years ahead of him were limited and I knew he would spend them living life to the fullest.

It was odd, but we'd both learned something about ourselves. We'd been forced to look deep inside and each of us had glimpsed something of our own mortality. It hadn't been easy for either of us, but we'd survived it -- not something everyone could boast of. Now we must each go our own way -- Han off pursuing his elusive schemes and dreams of riches -- while I... well, I must seek whatever Destiny had in store for me. It was going to be interesting to find out what that would be.