Han turned to see a pair of young human females waving at him as they hurried across the grassy lawn. He'd been
on Rudrig for about an hour, and was still getting his bearings on the university world. To be mistaken for a teacher
came as a surprise.

He'd come to in a holding pattern above the planet, having been shocked into unconsciousness just as he left the
last universe, and removed the body-suit from the last galaxy. The alarm cuff was dead too, and he picked the lock
without difficulty. He'd found a spare outfit in his closet and set off to the administrative office of the university
to inquire about Luke or Chewbacca.

The girls caught up with him. "Professor, about that report Doctor Chewbacca wants, is that a written or an oral
report? Does he want it in Formal Wookan or Tradetalk?"

"Girls," Han bluffed, "I really don't remember. Why don't you go find Dr. Chewbacca and ask?" The words felt
ridiculous in his mouth. "I'll go along because I need to refresh my memory." He let what Luke called his
"charming the pants off the galaxy" grin cross his face. The girls giggled, and started off the way they had come.

"That's where we were going, but when we saw you, we thought asking you might be easier."

He listened as they debated the finer points of Dr. Chewbacca's last lecture on Wookiee customs and argued about
the correct pronunciation of some vocabulary words. The large stone building they led him to was cool inside.

The girls went in, and he heard Chewie's distinctive voice answering their questions. When they came out, he went
in.

*You are early, little one. What brings you here? Did you dismiss your Astrogation class early again?*
Chewbacca took a deeper sniff of the air. *You are Han, but not Han. Explain this.*

Han told the story: Luke's death, his dreams, and the inauspicious beginning of his universe shifting. Chewbacca
listened. He folded long fingers and steepled them in a gesture Han had never seen. The look on his furry face was
grave.

*I have a colleague in the metaphysics department that would find you fascinating. You say in this other universe
Luke was evil and you and I were extremely dangerous?*

Han opened his shirt to show scratches on his chest from Leia's nails. "It wasn't a pleasure cruise, old pal."

The door of the office swung open, and Professor Solo walked in. "Hey Chewie. Remind me again why I'm
covering beginning Astrogation for Slenma? Those kids get lost on campus, putting them out in the stars would be
suicide."

*You took it because you couldn't face another semester of teaching Hyperdrive Repair and Corellian Folk
Music.*

"You're teaching folk music?" Han spun around in his chair, leaving Professor Solo gaping at him. In this universe,
he still wore the uniform trousers, but had moved to a more conservative grey shirt and did not wear a gunbelt.

Chewbacca explained, at length, and using some more elegant theories than Han had used. At one point, he saw the
look on Professor Solo's face matched his own, and suspected neither of them was following the reasoning.

"There's only one thing to do. You'll have to come home with me. I better call ahead." Solo flipped open a voice
channel on Chewbacca's communicator. "Honey, we're having a guest for dinner. We'll be home on time." He

switched off the comlink, and looked at the visitor, taking in his
thinness. "How long since you've had a home-cooked meal? And I don't mean
something out of the Falcon's galley."

Han thought. Their Highnesses had kept him on short rations. Before that, he hadn't paid much attention to food,
even Malla's good cooking was left uneaten. His last real, organic meal had been before Endor. Luke
had
cooked it for him while he was still recovering from hibernation
sickness. Most times, his lover's cooking had left much to be desired,
usually because Luke got distracted, but this time he had poured full
concentration into his work. The result had been some of the best food Han
had seen in years. Where Luke had wrangled the supplies, what he had paid,
Han didn't want to know.

"That long, huh?" Professor Solo gave him a half-grin.

Han shook himself from his thoughts. "Sorry. Yeah, it's been a while. And I kind of lost track of time on the Star
Destroyer."

"You'll come home with me tonight, and tomorrow, we'll check for this
Luke. Since you said you always end in his vicinity, he should be on
record. But Tatooine is about as far from the Tion as you can get."

"Thanks." They walked out together, leaving Chewie to his research. He
growled something that stopped them at the door.

*Hahnko? You are forgetting something.*

"Right. Sorry Doc." Han could tell the teasing was of long-standing, and
still light. Professor Solo grabbed a stack of papers from the corner of
the desk. "Looks like I'm grading tonight. A guest _and_ grading. She's
gonna love you, Chewie."

Chewbacca barked a short laugh and said *She has her own classes to grade
tonight, I am sure. You have caught us at midterms, captain.* He
dismissed the men with a wave of his large paw.

"Hasti, honey? We're here!" Professor Solo pushed the apartment door
open, and the warm smells of cooking drifted out to greet them. The
red-headed woman wiped her hands on a towel and kissed her husband.

"And who have you brought home this time, Solo? A starving student, or
another old friend?"

"Hi," Han said as he stepped forward. "You're still gorgeous, you know that?"

Hasti gaped, looking from her husband to her guest and back again. "Is
this a joke?"

"No, but it's a really long story. How did that test go?"

"Bitch and I knew it would be. But I did just fine."

"You're lucky tonight. Tomorrow's my turn to cook. It'll be concentrates and water."

Hasti took Han's arm and led him into the dining area. "Don't let him fool you. He's a good cook." She turned
back to her husband. "And you're lucky it's kippa stew. I can stretch that. Hope you boys can amuse yourselves
afterward. I have a Elementary Pre-Republic Cultures test to grade, and my own fluidic systems test to study for. A
grad student's work is never done."

Dinner was hot and fresh. Han ate with an appetite he hadn't felt since Endor. Hasti and Professor Solo talked
about the lousy incoming class, and explained to Han what had happened on their time-line since finding the vaults
of Xim. In this one, Han, badly injured in the encounter with Gallandro, had decided to accept Skynx's offer and get
out of the Game.

"Took me two weeks in bacta to heal all the skin-grafts, and months of therapy to get my arm working again. No
more speed draw, not even really enough flexibility for fancy flying. So, I needed something less risky. Badure
drops in for dinner a couple times a week. He's teaching 'Theory of Flight' this semester. Said the actual flight
runs were giving him grey hair. They'll be giving me grey hair next semester."

Han laughed. It felt good. This world was a good one. If Luke wanted him, he'd stay here. Maybe actually do some
studying, settle in. But what was he thinking? He had to know one thing. "What's the Empire like these days?"

The table fell silent. Hasti stood up and started clearing without a word. Han looked at him. "We don't talk politics
at the table."

"Where do we talk it?'

"We don't. We are instructors. We have to be apolitical."

"Is the Empire still there? That's all I want to know."

"It's there. And now that it can blow up whole worlds no place is safe. So, we here in the Tion are keeping a low
profile. And, on Rudrig, we must be utterly silent about politics."

"All I needed to know. Hey, is Skynx still around?"

Relieved to be on safer topics, Professor Solo talked volubly. Han turned the news over in his mind. The Death
Star completed. Worlds destroyed. And Luke placidly taking classes and tests without a clue he could stop it.

"Sweetheart, you have grading to do," Hasti said softly, kissing the top of her husband's head.

"Hasti, I'm sorry," Han said. "I didn't mean to make trouble."

"It's all right." She smiled at him. "I'm just jumpy. Here, maybe you can search for your Luke in the database while
we grade." She showed him the terminal and he sat down.

Two hours later, Han was jolted from his search by a hand on his shoulder. "Any luck?" Solo asked.

"Nothing yet. I never thought about how common a name like Skywalker is."

"Is it possible he's not under Skywalker?" asked Hasti looking over his shoulder at the failed searches

"Let me check." A few moments later Han exclaimed "Jackpot! Luke Lars, Age 24, born Tatooine. See, that's
him." Han gestured to a thumbnail photo. "Still beautiful. He tangled with a wampa in my reality and that marked
him. He was handsome..." The words wouldn't come from there.

"There's an address," Hasti noted. "He's taking a course of computer design. He's staying in this hall." She tapped
the screen at an unfamiliar name. "And here's a commcode. You might call him first."

"It's early enough," Solo added, after running the time conversion. "Here, use the pickup in the guest room."

Han vanished into the back of the apartment before the sentence was finished. He sat at the desk in the guest room,
trying to decide how to approach Luke. Just calling the boy, and this Luke was still a boy at 24, not the man of
Han's time line, and announcing, "Hey, we were lovers in an alternate universe so come to bed with me" would
probably get him laughed at, at best, arrested for harassment at worst.

That was how the professor found him ten minutes later, sitting at the desk, his hand near the com pickup. "Couldn't
think what to say, huh?" He set two fingers of good Corellian brandy in front of Han.

Han shook his head and pushed away from the desk. He swirled the brandy and sipped it slowly.

"Look, I could call his adviser for you. Schedule a conference."

Han didn't look up from his drink. "You know what the worst is? Not knowing if he'd even be interested. He might
be solely focused on girls in this universe. Like you are."

"That's about half true. Like any good Corellian male, I had my fun then settled down with the right woman. Can't
believe Mom's good with you settling down with a male partner."

"Mom's been dead for twenty years. Everything is different here. I like it, but it isn't home. And the Luke I find
here won't be the one I'm looking for."

There didn't seem to be much to be said to that. After a pause, Solo ventured, "You can take a look, can't you?"

"Yeah. I can do that."

"Then I'll call Dr. Vinstrag."

The next day, a light knock came on Professor Solo's office door. "Professor? I'm Luke Lars. You wanted to see
me?" The young man in blue stepped into the small office. Both of the men looked at him, and he gaped at the
identical faces. "Sirs?"

"Hello, Luke," said Professor Solo, standing up from behind his desk. "I contacted Dr. Vinstrag because of your
test scores. You show a tremendous aptitude for flight. Why are you enrolled in a computer tech program?"

"My uncle thinks I need to keep my feet on the ground. Says flying's too dangerous. He wouldn't even let me fly a
T-16 back home."

Han snorted quietly at that. As if anything could keep Luke grounded.

"Who are you and what would you know about it?" Luke glared at him as if he'd been stung.

"I know a lot about you, Luke, but it'd take too long to explain how."

Luke hauled up a chair and straddled it right in front of Han. "Bore me. You summoned me half-way around the
planet and made me miss all my classes today. May as well tell me why."

"Maybe I'd better handle this part," Solo said. "This is my counterpart from a different universe. He arrived here
looking for you."

"Luke was my lover there," Han took over, pain still in his words at the past tense. "He died. I'm traveling trying to
find a universe where I died and he wants me back as much I want him."

Luke held his laughter at the ridiculous story in the face of the sheer pain he was getting from the older man. He
didn't believe a word of it, but still... There was something niggling at him about this man, a feeling he couldn't
quite grasp.

"I'm sorry about your Luke. I don't think I'm what you're looking for. I'm engaged to a girl in my hall and we're
marrying a week after graduation."

"No, I knew when I saw your name and study program you weren't the man I wanted. I guessed it when I landed here.
Good luck kid." Han couldn't stop himself from reaching out and touching the callow, unmarked face in front of
him. A face that had never known more trauma than a programming exam. Unscarred by claws over a soul similarly
unmarked by the loss of mentors, illusions and fathers. This was a computer designer, not his Jedi. "Take care of
yourself and kiss your girl for me. Thanks for coming."

Luke shut the door behind him, mystified, and caught the next shuttle back to his dorm where Zilla waited. She
would listen to the tale of his strange encounter and take away the disconcerting touch of the stranger's hand that
still seemed to burn on his cheek.

"Professor, thanks for everything. I gotta go now."

"So soon? I was going to draft you to help cook tonight. I was thinking of inviting Chewie and Badure for dinner."

Han shook his head. "Sorry. Gotta keep looking. Tell Chewie and Hasti thanks. Woulda been nice to see Trooper
again, but-" He shook his head again. "Thanks again."

Professor Solo stood up and offered a hand across the desk. "Good luck, then. I hope you find him. Want me to
walk you to the Falcon?" Han clasped his hand and shook it in farewell.

"No thanks. Have a good life with Hasti. She's a good woman."

"Clear skies, Han."

"Good-bye."

Han walked out of the office, part of him wanting to stay and cook with Han, hear Badure's stories around the table
and talk some more with Chewie. But hard as it was leave now, he'd only find more excuses tomorrow. And maybe
the day after that, he'd go looking for Luke again, and talk him into one last fling before marriage.

He ran a steady preflight, set the coordinates for Endor and lifted. "Good luck. To all of you," he whispered as he
pulled the hyperdrive levers. The stars streaked into blackness.
******