***
Obligatory Opening Quote:
Every harlot was a virgin once. Nor canst thou change Kate to Nan.
--William Blake, _The Marriage of Heaven and Hell_
***
Nothing better than walking the streets of a pleasure planet with a pocket
full of credits, Han Solo thought as he paused to watch a pair of very
shapely ladies walk past. They seemed more interested in each other
than in
the pro forma proposition they made him.
His last cargo, a gigantic statue for a minor religious cult here on Tzalna,
was safely in the hands of the proper owners a week early. That had
meant a
two thousand credit bonus atop the exorbitant fee they had offered.
It had
been easy, legal money. Even after paying for a few repairs and upgrades
on
his baby, tucking back some living expenses and splitting with Chewbacca,
he
still had enough for a great deal of fun. The credit chips felt too
warm
through the fabric of his pants pocket.
First, a meal. Real food, fresh and not vacpacked, frozen or synthesized.
Then some shopping. The Falcon's stores were
a little low on some luxuries. Then, maybe a couple of drinks,
not too much. Then a tour of some of the more interesting
looking buildings he was passing. A definite twist churned
through his lower belly at that idea. Someone soft
and shaped just right. Yeah, that was a plan.
He'd give that last idea more thought over dinner.
Later, wrapped around a well spiced meat pie and some
of the local vegetables, his purchases stashed aboard the ship,
and two glasses of good brandy warming his chest, he wandered out
in search of real adventure.
***
Luke Skywalker, late of Tatooine, grimaced at his reflection and
shifted the sarong knotted around his hips. The soft ver-cloth,
light blue on dark, draped in a way that left little to the
imagination. After six months, he should be getting used to
this, but he still fought a blush every time his
owner delivered the evening's clothing.
He knew he had to be hired tonight. His owner was getting testy,
and he
hadn't encouraged any customers in a week. He wasn't making his quota
and
K'Ryf Levant's punishments for that were near-legendary. He stared
in the
mirror and debated on make-up. Maybe just a touch at the eyes or
some
glitter dust. In the end, he decided the touseled, fresh-scrubbed
look
would work best. He mussed his hair a bit, and smiled engagingly
at the
mirror. He hastened downstairs, late again.
"That was your last chance, Golden Boy," barked Levant. The four-armed
humanoid was sitting behind a desk, writing with two hands, directing the
concierge to open the door for the evening's trade with a third, and
pointing the last accusingly at Luke. "It's booth duty for you tomorrow."
Luke winced. Arnowa, a young Askajian, patted him lightly as he stood
beside her. "Booth duty's not so bad, honey," she said, giving lie
to her
words a moment later with a sigh that heaved all six of her breasts.
She
patted his rear again.
"Don't do that. Bad enough when the clients do."
"Sorry. I like the blue. It brings out your so-changeable eyes."
She
moved away.
"As far as it is from my eyes, how can you tell?" he grumbled.
There wasn't much crowd at this hour. Levant's opened earlier than
most of
the brothels in the Quarter. A couple afternoon regulars, and a spacer,
just off the landing pad by the looks of him. The regulars requested
their
usual, and the spacer settled in one of the chairs to look over his options.
Seeing his attention was mainly focused on several of the ladies, Luke
gave him his best number-three smile, the "I'm dazzling you with
my gorgeousness" one, and settled in for a long wait.
***
Levant's seemed like a reasonable place. The workers were all human
or nearly so. Han had waved off the Askajian girl early. Six
breasts might
sound good in fantasy, but it was too much in reality. The girls
were all
pretty, and the boys were too, but nothing struck his
fancy. Then he saw the god.
The man looked like he had stepped off a pedastal behind someone's
altar. He couldn't have seen the back side of twenty. The fair
hair
fell to his shoulders, half-touseled like he'd just tumbled out of bed.
The
smooth, lightly tanned chest was shaped, but without the
exaggerated musculature some cultivated. The blue sarong he wore
matched
his eyes and covered the conventions, but clung to every shape beneath.
He
noticed Han looking and flashed the most gorgeous smile in seven sectors.
Han urged a cuddlesome blue-haired girl off his lap as he stood.
A quick, low-voiced haggle with the proprietor and
he dropped the money on the desk.
"Right up the stairs. Room 17. Golden Boy! You got
a job."
The god detatched himself from the wall he was leaning on,
and strolled over to the desk. His eyes took in Han, categorized
and dismissed him as another job.
"Follow me." The voice was too petulant and bored to be anything
but human.
Han was almost disappointed. Well, he hadn't hired the
boy for small talk.
***
Luke couldn't believe his luck. This would be an easy night.
The spacer looked good for about 15 minutes of sweat and
then he'd sleep. They always did. He would wake in the middle
of
the evening and probably want seconds. Then he'd leave, and Luke
would be
able to hit the floor again by midnight. Two tricks in a night might
get
Levant off his case. The spacer might even leave an extra tip. House
policy
was that all extra tips were shared, but everyone held out.
He put a little extra strut in his walk. Sometimes that was enough
to have them half-way to done before they were even in his room.
Those usually finished with hands and a little mouth work. Easy
money.
Half an hour later, face-down on his bed, Luke realized he
was totally wrong in his assessment. Well not totally. The
client was rock hard and ready when they got to his room.
His hands had been fine, and his mouth had been readily
accepted, but only as appetizers. Now his guy was
going for the main course like he was a full-service
buffet.
***
Han bit down on a groan and thrust himself deeper into
the warmth beneath him in culmination. A god indeed.
Obviously of some cult that believed sex was the direct route to
the afterlife. With a mouth like that, this kid could be getting
top
prices on any of the Core worlds.
He ran his hands from the boy's hips to his shoulders
and back again before pulling out to clean up. He couldn't
resist a final circle of the perfect globes under his hand
before heading to the 'fresher, one hand absently holding up his
still-open trousers.
He returned, cleaned and closed, to find the young man still lying on his
stomach, watching the door.
"Uh, 'fresher's free if you need it."
Gracefully, he rose and left. Han sat on the edge of the
bed, and dug into his pocket. He dropped fifty Imperial
credits on the nightstand. He didn't know what the house
cut was on the workers' take in this place, but
he always liked to leave a little extra, especially
for a job as well done as this one had been.
He got a bit of a surprise when a warm, still-naked body
dropped into his lap. He hadn't been expecting
anything more.
"I thought you'd be asleep."
"Nah. So what's your name, Golden Boy?"
"Why?"
"So I can request you next time."
"Buy my indenture and you can have me all the time." The way
the boy was squirming was definitely distracting.
"How rich do you think I am, kid?" The words came out before
Han really thought about them, or what the kid had just said.
"Rich enough to hire me for the whole night, and leave
an extra fifty for me. That takes some money."
"Indenture? You're a slave?" It clicked now. Damn but
he was distracting. It had been a while since
he was ready for a second try this quickly.
"Not technically. Officially, I'm contract labor
on a fifteen year contract." Typical Imperial chincanery.
No one that young should have so much bitterness, but Han decided
it was justified, especially given that this world's orbit
was about twice the human norm. A fifteen year indenture here
would leave the kid middle-aged.
"What's your name?" he asked again, more gently, stopping
the delicious squirming with a pair of firm hands on the shoulders.
"What do you want it to be?" The pouty lips were millimeters from his.
"Don't make me ask again." The tone was becoming mildly threatening
and the hands closed a little tighter.
"Luke." The answer came out like a revealed secret, like a
treasure kept hidden and only looked at when completely safe.
"I like it. Is there more?"
"Luke's all you need!" The younger man flung off his hands,
and swung off his lap. He sat on the other side of the
narrow bed.
Han put up his hands in a placating gesture. "Take it easy.
Where you from? Or are you native?"
"Tatooine. I used to be the portmaster at Mos Eisley. Boot,
my
assistant, turned out to be a slaver, and I found myself here."
"Portmaster? Now I know you're lying. The portmaster at Mos
Eisely
is older than the sand at Mos Eisley."
"Ferg was a good man. His heart started going about two years ago.
He hired me, and when he retired, I took over. Been here about
six months."
"I was slated for a run to Tatooine
about six months ago. But something came up."
"You could buy me and make it up..." Startlingly, Luke
leaned in and began to nibble at his ear.
"And what would I do with baggage like you? You'd eat, you'd
drink, you'd take fuel to lift off-planet. What am I gonna
do, keep you in my cabin like a pet? My co-pilot would shed
all over everything at the extra expense."
"I can fly. I used to race in Beggar's Canyon and buzz
the womprats. I threaded the Stone Needle once. Shed?"
"Wookiees do that, ya know."
"Sands!" Luke's eyes got big enough to fall out of his
head. "You're...that is, are you?"
"Am I what?"
Luke lowered his voice as if someone might hear. "Only one human
ships with
a Wook in this part of space. Are you Solo?"
Han quirked the one-sided smile at him. "What about it?"
"You are? You're a legend at Chalmun's. And there's a price
on your head.
So far I haven't heard if it's off-planet yet, but half the scum old Wuher
serves are keeping their eyes on the door for you
to come in."
"They are? And how about you? Were you watching with them?"
"Yeah, but not for the money." The slow tongue on the side of
Han's neck told him exactly why Luke had been watching.
"Take that action lower." Luke followed directions splendidly.
The next morning, Han strode back aboard the Falcon, an impossible
number roiling in his head. There was no way he'd be able to talk
Chewie into it. He wondered if he could get his co-pilot to
"negotiate" with Levant.
He explained the situation with characteristic bluntness.
*Young one, if all you say is true, we will free him. Did he say
the Stone Needle?*
"Yeah, you know something?"
*It is a landmark near Anchorhead. It is a plinth of stone with a
natural opening barely big enough for a skyhopper. Threading the
Stone Needle means flying a skyhopper through the opening at top
speed. If your young friend can do that, he would be well worth
having on our crew. You always complain of working the nav board
with your off-hand.*
The early afternoon found Han back at Levant's at opening time.
The door was off the hinges, and the furniture overturned. Random
blaster burns marked the facade. Levant sat behind the desk,
cradling his head in 2 arms, a third was in a sling.
"I've come to buy out an indenture."
"Ruined. I'm ruined. And you want to buy an indenture?
Of course.
What else could happen, right? Who did you want?"
"The blond kid. Luke."
"Golden Boy's gone. The Imps took him."
"What?"
"Tossed the place and hauled him out in mid-trick. We run a morning
special on Midweekday. Why they'd send a whole squadron after
a bangtail slave like him, I'll never know. Can I offer you
someone else?" Han was out the door before he finished.
The Millennium Falcon put several rapid parsecs between itself
and the pleasure world. Han didn't know if the kid was wanted or
an
Imperial plant. But given the current state of the prices on his
head, he
thought it best not to wait to find out.
***
Luke stood in the cell in the same way the troopers had taken him.
They had stunned his client, leaving the man in a crumpled heap
beside the bed, and dragged him bodily down the stairs and out the
door. He'd wanted to get away from Levant, had in fact been working
on his escape plan, but not like this. This was out of the pan and
onto the heat-element.
There were probably more humiliating things than being marched naked
from the door to a waiting troop transport, then taken from the
transport through a hanger and a million miles of corridor
with people at every turn, but he couldn't think of any. A small
part of his brain reminded him he'd been a whore for six months, how
could he possibly have any shame left? He was grateful for the binders
that
let him cover himself inconspicuously.
On second thought, he wasn't sure this was a cell. It looked more
like a
conference room. He looked a little more closely at the huge table.
He
might be unsophisticated, but he knew enough to know that interrogation
tables usually didn't come with computer consoles.
The hiss of the door startled him. He spun, putting the bulk of the
table
between him and the newcomer. A giant in black armor loomed.
The face was
familiar from a thousand holocasts, and Luke nearly panicked. The
Empire's
most visible symbol of authority turned from Luke to the aide at his side.
"He's still naked? Have clothing brought."
"Yes, Lord Vader." The aide scurried out. There was no sound
except
the respirator's wheeze until the clothing arrived.
Luke looked at the pile of clothes, at the armored man, and at the aide.
He
shrugged, lifted his bound hands and began to pull on the pants.
"Unbind him, fool." The displeasure was evident, and the twitchy
way the
aide fumbled the keys suggested that someone's head would roll for
the errors.
Luke dressed and sat down opposite Lord Vader. The aide stood nervously
behind his superior's chair.
"I must apologize for the treatment you received this morning. My
troops
are loyal, but overzealous."
"If you wanted me so badly, I'm sure Levant would have delivered."
Luke
shifted in the chair, legs apart, a hand tantilizingly high on his thigh,
the other behind his head, and let smile number 5, a "You really want me?"
seduction smile, cross his face. He didn't know what was under the
armor,
and he really didn't want to find out. But it didn't look like he
had a lot
of say in the matter.
"You will cease this disgraceful behavior at once!" The aide cringed
at the
Dark Lord's voice. "You are the son of a Sith Lord, not a whore."
"Since when? I seem to recall a gentleman who might disagree with
you, if
your men hadn't stunned him in mid-fuck."
"And you will discard certain phrases from your vocabulary
at once, beginning with that one," rumbled Vader.
Luke ceased the sprawl, and just slumped in the chair.
He was out of line and he knew it. "What is a Sith Lord?
My father was a navigator on a spice freighter
when he died." The door opened again. It took Luke a moment
to
identify the woman standing there. "Aunt Beru?" He sat up straight
and smiled the first real smile in six months.
His aunt looked well. Being widowed had actually agreed with her.
She was dressed well, not flashy but expensively. She walked
into the room with more poise than he'd ever seen her possess, and
laid her hand on the giant's shoulder. He laid his gloved
hand over hers in acknowledgement and then beckoned her to sit.
"Hello, Luke." Her pleased smile had an almost self-satisfied air.
"It's good to see you. I've been very worried.
When you didn't call, I started asking questions. I knew
you'd never leave Tatooine without letting me know."
"Sorry about that," Luke mumbled, staring at the table.
"Nothing to be sorry for, dear. Slavers happen. The underground
economy is a necessity. When I didn't hear, I contacted my brother,
your father, and had him begin looking for you. I had a bad
feeling we'd find you someplace like this. I'm only sorry
it took so long."
"I thought my father was dead?" he accused.
"A necessary lie told by your uncle," she said
matter-of-factly. "Just as old Kenobi has no knowledge of my heritage,
so
he thought to keep you from yours."
"And he has failed again, my sister. For now, Luke is here,
and I shall begin his formal training. I have much to do. You
will both
join me for dinner tonight." Vader left.
Luke's head was spinning from the amount of information he was
trying to absorb. "Aunt Beru?"
"Let me tell it to you slowly, and you can fill me in on your travels,
or not. I heard where they found you, and I'm not sure
I want to know more. Lord Vader is your father. He was
Anakin Skywalker before he became a Sith Lord. He was a Jedi and
studied under Ben Kenobi. When he embraced the Sith, Kenobi
turned against him, fought him, and injured him so badly that the armor
is
the only thing keeping him alive. When you were born, Kenobi took
you from
your mother and brought you to his brother, Owen. He
stayed on Tatooine to watch over you. Anakin had
requested I marry Owen some years before for just that eventuality.
Remember all the games we played when you were a child? How
you would find lost things, and chase out the glitchs in the household
droids merely by closing your eyes and concentrating?
You are Force sensitive, Luke, and, now that you
are old enough, your father will train you
to use that power. You can have anything you want with it.
Who knows, you could become Emperor."
Luke had never seen his aunt like this. She had never
talked this much when his uncle was alive. But he supposed
people with secrets didn't. But her words stuck with him, "anything
you want."
Last night, he had serviced a legend. Tonight, he was a legend.
The thought of Solo made him wince. What if he did come back to
buy the indenture like he had said he would? Luke shrugged.
The
spacer was probably quadrants away and had forgotten all about him.
"Did my father set me up with a room here? It's been a very exhausting
morning."
"Of course, dear. Come along. You will have such
an exciting life. I'm only sorry I didn't destabilize
that vaporator earlier to get Owen out of the way."