They loaded it into the speeder and made the six hour trip to Mos
Eisley.  Obi-Wan rented a room, signing them in as "Ben and Lou
Quig," a father and son pair from Mos Espa.  Luke cleaned the R2
unit as best he could, but was amazed when Obi-Wan spoke to the
droid.

"All right, old friend, show me what you have for me."

The little blue and silver droid beeped and began to project a
hastily made holo of a young woman dressed in senatorial clothing.

"Organa, from Alderaan," Luke supplied, his morning news sessions
bearing fruit.  The young woman was a notorious pacifist, opposing
the vast majority of the Emperor's plans.  A small gust in the Force
drew his attention, but he concentrated on what she was saying.

"Years ago, General, you served my father in the Clone Wars.  Now,
the hour of need is upon us again, and we require your assistance
once more.  My mission to bring you to Alderaan has failed.  I have
placed information vital to the survival of freedom in the memory of
this R2 unit.  My father will know how to retrieve it.  You must see
this droid safely to Alderaan.  You are our last hope."

"In the morning, padawan, we will find a fast ship.  We will need
to be careful.  Mos Eisely is the most wretched hive of scum and
villainy in the sector.  Now we meditate and rest."

The fast ship was harder to find than they had anticipated.  Most
of the local shippers were cargo haulers, living in their flight
suits with no passenger accomodations.  The last office, their final
stop before moving to the space port bars for a free-trader, was an
office marked "DirectShip, Inc., Tatooine office."

The red-haired woman behind the counter, working on invoices, looked
familiar to Luke. When she stood to greet them, he realized who it
was but kept his mouth shut.

"We're looking for passage to Alderaan."

Zora checked her schedules and looked back at them.  "How many, and
how soon?"

"Myself and my son.  This droid.  We would like to lift today if
possible."

She checked the logs.  "Ah, luck.  Our corporate president is
finishing his inspection today, and headed to Alderaan to check up
on the office there.  He might agree to take you.  He's at Chalmun's
Cantina.  Look for the Wookiee.  If not, I lift tomorrow."

"Thank you.  Something for your trouble."  Obi-Wan set a small stack
of credits on the counter.

"No, sir.  I get a percentage referral fee.  Clear Skies."  She
returned to her invoices.

"An honest woman in Mos Eisley.  It is a day for surprises," Obi-Wan
commented once they returned to the street.  He patted Artoo fondly.

"Master.  I know her.  And I know who the corporate president must
be."  Luke showed him the mental images of his first encounter with
Zora, Talla and Solo.

"Your insight serves you well.  Let us see if your lover holds you in
as high regard as you hold him."

Chalmun's was a very dingy bar.  The droid detector pinged Artoo, and
Luke opted to wait outside. rather than risk losing the droid.  After
all, if his instincts were right, he'd have several days to
reacquaint himself with the pilot.

Obi-Wan found two Wookiees at the bar, conversing in low tones.  He
approached them, and spoke haltingly to the elder as protoccol
required.  Amused to hear a human even attempt their language, they
listened to his proposition.  The younger escorted him to a corner
table.

"Han Solo, owner of DirectShip and captain of the Millennium Falcon.
Chewie here says Zora sent you to me.  Passage for three to
Alderaan?"

"Yes.  The young lady at the offices.  If yours is a fast ship."

"Fast ship?  You've never heard of the Millennium Falcon?"

Actually, Obi-Wan had heard a great deal about her, from Luke.  He
didn't know how much of the second-hand information to trust.  "I
heard that you worked for Jabba and made runs in record time."

"Record time?  She made the Kessel Run in 11 standard days.  She's
fast enough.  Is it a local problem?"

"We must avoid Imperial entanglements."

"Not a problem.  We're so clean we squeak.  And DirectShip always
gets the cargo through."  He ran through some rapid mental
calculations.  Chewie barked something, and he added the factors in.
"My partner is an idealist.  Five thousand."

"Two would be more than fair."  A light came into the old Jedi's eyes
and he made a small gesture with his hand.

"Two would _not_ be more than fair, old man.  Jedi mind-tricks only
work on the weak-minded.  You're asking me to take two people, one
with a standing Jedi bounty on him, and a droid to an interdicted
world, without proper papers or procedures.  I could lose everything.
The only reason it's not ten is that Chewie likes you.  Ten might
cover most of our fines if we got caught."

"Will this do, Captain?"  Obi-Wan pulled a minisafe from his robes
and keyed the code.  It opened to display a matched pair of krayt
dragon pearls.

"Fine."  He pocketed the minisafe, and glanced at the door.  "Docking
bay 94, whenever you're ready to lift.  If you're avoiding Imperials,
I'd say go now."

Han watched the old man slip out the back door of the bar from a
corner of his eye.  He and Chewbacca produced their IDs at the
stormtrooper's request.  He debated tossing out a business card, but
decided not to be too brave.  The troopers moved on.

"Something fishy about him, Chewie.  You go warm up the ship."

The Wookiee went and Han took one more drink of his firewhiskey.  He
had heard about Jedi and wasn't at all sure he had gotten a good
deal.  He opened the minisafe.  The dragonpearls gleamed redly at him
before he snapped it shut.  A fence would give him maybe twenty
thousand here on Tatooine.  That figure would double in a core
system.  And quadruple again from a legal jeweler.  Either the old man was
foolish, crazy or very wealthy.  He stood to go, his danger sense
telling him he'd be earning every credit.

The muzzle of a blast rifle in his chest stopped him.  "Leaving so
soon, Solo?  You just made planetfall last night.  But then, there's
nothing to keep you lingering here anymore, is there?"  The rough
voice picked up a metallic timbre from the blank helmet.  Han
couldn't tell if the man was just that callous or if he was trying
to pick a fight.  "Jabba would like to see you."

"I don't want to see him.  Or you, Fett."

"Hard feelings over a slave dead these two years?  I thought you
were more of a businessman than that, Solo.  Professional enough not
to hold the complaints of a cheelooda against me."

"I'm a legitimate businessman now."  Solo carefully did not address
the taunts.  The bounty hunter was definitely trying to start a
fight.  Luke was still a very sore spot in his memories.  Every time
he thought of the kid, he felt his stomach thud into his boots at the
gruesome picture the Hutt had painted.  It had haunted his sleep for
weeks and still occured at odd moments.  In his mind's eye, he saw
the dancer sprawled over the Hutt's tail, a bloody hole instead of
a lower abdomen, genitals gone, and intestines looping out over the
bloodstained gold harem pants.  Worst was the agonized look of betrayal
combined with freedom he saw on Luke's face.  He had even, in more
irrational moments, considered finding the beings who had taken the
body parts for souveniers, and buying them.  Then, through contacts,
he would find an illegal cloning lab and bring the kid back.

"Yes, I know."  Even the helmet's speakers couldn't keep the disdain
from Fett's voice.  "DirectShip, offices on fifteen worlds, a fleet
of thirty ships, and you're still living hand to mouth.  Jabba has
an offer to make you rich."

"Jabba is a loathsome slug, a slaver and a spice dealer.  I don't
need his money or his trouble."

"Suit yourself, Solo.  But know that you aren't welcome on
Tatooine.  If you work here, you work for Jabba."

"I work for myself.  And Jabba can take up obstruction of a
licensed trade corporation with the Imperials.  Now get out of my
way.  I have an inspection tour to complete."

The bounty hunter watched the former smuggler leave the cantina
before informing Jabba that Solo had declined.  He listened to the
orders coming over his helmet's com unit and nodded slowly.

The price on Han Solo's head had just been set.  No one refused
Jabba and lived to tell of it.  The hunt was afoot.

***

"Master, will this get us to Alderaan?"

Obi-Wan chuckled.  "You, padawan, are the one who has extolled
the virtues of the ship all afternoon.  Are you judging by mere
appearances?"

"I'm sorry, Master Obi-Wan.  She just looks like
she's about to fall apart sitting here."

Artoo beeped his agreement.

Either the pilot had supernally acute hearing or he was used to the
first reaction to his ship.  "She'll make point five past light
speed.  I've made a few special modifications myself.  Now, we're a
little rushed so if you'll get aboard..."  He grasped the smaller
man's arm to hasten him aboard the ship.

The hood fell back, revealing a face Han had never expected to see
again.  He dropped the arm and stepped back, a hundred generations
of superstitious sailors and spacers screaming at him that he was
seeing a ghost.  Luke pulled his hood completely down, and smiled.

"Hello, Han."

"Quickly, padawan."  The older Jedi was halfway up the ramp,
and Artoo was already aboard.  Luke moved away, and up the ramp.
Han watched, stunned at seeing the kid alive, and amazed at the
change two years had wrought in him.  He was a man now, confident and
gorgeous.  Regretfully, he noted the lovely walk had given way to a
purposeful stride.  A low growl from behind Han startled him out of
his shock.

*I smell Imperials.  We must go, young one.  You will tell me
about this one once we are in hyper.*

Chewbacca went in and began the preflight as Han locked down the
lifter coupling he had been repairing.  The squadron of stormtoopers
strode in, standing around the edge of the bay.  Han opened the
comlink at his belt so Chewbacca would know what was happening.
Their commander, a young man sweltering in Imperial grey, approached
him.

"Captain Solo?"

"That's me.  If you need to hire me, my offices are just down the
street.  Zora will be happy to book you on the next DirectShip
vessel that's lifting.  I'm taking off as soon as your men clear the
bay.  I have a surprise inspection to conduct, and an office to
close."

"Not so quickly, Captain.  We have reports of you talking to an old
man at the cantina, this old man."  The commander triggered a display
and showed the wanted holo.  It was the old man who had hired him.
"He is a Jedi.  The standing bounty for a Jedi is 50,000 credits
alive, or 30,000 dead.  We will need to search your ship."

"Of course.  I told the old man I wasn't taking passengers.  They're
more trouble than they're worth."

The troopers streamed aboard, seaching every compartment.  Satisfied,
they left.  The commander paused at the foot of the ramp.

"Captain Solo, as one officer to another," he gestured at the
bloodstripes the pilot still wore, "I would suggest you not return to
Tatooine personally.  We were tipped off by certain agents of Jabba the Hutt.
I'm glad you had the sense turn down the old man.  Clear skies."

The bay was empty, and Han and Chewbacca took off at a gentle speed,
and made a legal, technically perfect jump to hyperspace.

"Cool as Hoth.  I still got it, Chewie.  I better go check the
passengers."

*Sit!*

"Yes, Mother."  Sometimes the big hairball forgot who was the captain
and who was the first mate.  Han never held it against him, but he did rib
the wookiee about it.

*The boy?*

"He was a slave of Jabba's.  That last Kessel was supposed to be a
freebie and I would get him in exchange.  Jabba told me he had
exploded the kid's implant.  I guess he sold him instead."

*_He_ is the one who left you smelling like--*

"Yeah," Han cut him off.  "He's the one.  His name is Luke."

*I am glad he is alive, young one.  You have missed him.  Go.*

Han went to the ring corridor and opened a microphone to the
compartments.  "It's okay.  Come on out.  We're in hyperspace and
on the way to Alderaan."

A deckplate lifted slowly.  The two Jedi hoisted themselves out of
the compartment.  Luke replaced the deckplate.

"Well done, Captain," Obi-wan commented.  Han wasn't paying
attention.

Luke straightened up, only to be turned around.  One hand held the
braid that fell past his waist, and the other wrapped around him
and pulled him close.  Han kissed him hard and long, sinking into
memories and denied desires.  Luke's own body, starved for contact,
responded, and his arms went around Han's neck as he kissed back.

Releasing his lover's mouth, Han whispered "Jabba told me you were
dead.  He was very graphic."

"He sold me," was all Luke managed before Han was kissing him again.

"Padawan," Obi-Wan warned.

"Yes, Master?"

"I shall be in the cockpit if you need me."  He left the two young
men embracing in the ring corridor.

"He's your master?"

"A title of respect for a Jedi teacher.  I'm free."

"Nice of him to give me a leash."  Han tugged him a little closer
with the braid.  "I miss the ponytail though."

"I still have one."

"Short.  More a handle than anything."  A wickedly lusty grin
crossed the pilot's face.  "Do I get to give it a try?  Stars, I
missed you!"  With that, he had to ravish Luke's mouth yet again.

"Missed you, too.  You never came back to Tatooine."

"Nothin' here for me with you dead.  I had Zora and Talla set up the
office here, just like some other old friends have the other offices
on other planets.  I get twenty percent off the top, after bribes and tarriffs,
and the office staff splits the rest 20/80 with the pilots.  Aaah, you don't
care about that."  Han couldn't think with him this close, and
blurted out his heart's desire.  "Come to bed with me."

"It's been a while, but I don't think I've forgotten everything."
Luke smiled, dazzling him as he had the first time he'd seen the
boy's face.

"You're not--"  Han waved a vague hand at the cockpit.

"Ben is like my father, or maybe grandfather, since he raised my
father as well.  The last human I had was *him*."

Only one person merited that inflection.  "Fett.  Someday, kid,
you're gonna tell me exactly what that bastard did, and we'll
track him down and return the favor.  What do you say?"

"No.  No talk of him, ever again.  No talk of Jabba, or the past
or the future.  Be in this moment with me, Han."  Luke silenced him
with a kiss.  How he'd missed kissing another person!  Denied any
caresses but his own for two years, he refused to let the spacer go
as they made very slow progress to the captain's cabin.

Once there, Han cycled the door shut and began unfastening Luke's
belt as he let the cloak fall.  Belt, sash, overtunic, undertunic,
and his golden dancer was standing there again, oddly changed.  The
haircut was unfamiliar, the body had grown, and the face no longer
wore its haunted look.

"Nothin' you don't want to do kid," he promised, feeling awkward
with this much-missed stranger.  "I always say that, then you explode
and I wake up.  You're not going to explode, are you?"

"Not this time.  Not ever.  The implant is out and destroyed.  Talk
later.  Make love to me now, like you used to."  The kisses were the
same, still as glorious as he remembered.

Han wasn't sure how he came to be sitting on his bunk, propped
against the bulkhead, watching his young lover's well-honed body
extend the same invitation it had three years before, writhing on his
lap.  Again, he accepted.

The smooth chest was harder, more muscle than he remembered, but the
skin was as warm and supple.  He twined the braid in his fingers,
pulling Luke closer for a kiss, before looping the strand of hair
around his own neck.

"So, are you my cheelooda now?" Luke teased, kissing his way over
to lick at the spot just below Han's ear that drove the bigger man
insane.

"Want me to be?  Like that one night when you took me in the bath?"

"Oh yeah," Luke breathed.  "That was good."

"Don't give me that big-eyed innocent look, kid.  Getting it from a
painted pleasureboy in a bath for two on _Tatooine_ has to rate as
one of the most decadent experiences of my life.  Especially when
a certain very limber pleasureboy managed to suck me while he was
up inside me."

"So now I'm corrupting you..."  Luke's hands were already in his pants,
teasing him erect and stroking in odd corners that he'd almost forgotten
about.

"Can't corrupt me.  Corellians are born corrupt."

"Prove it," Luke demanded with a final nip at the hot spot.  "On your
knees and bend over the bunk."

"Pushy kid."  But Han obligingly stepped out of the pants and
dug through the drawer beneath the bunk.  He tossed a small bottle
to Luke.  "It's been a while, and I don't think spit's going to
be enough."  He took the position the younger man had requested.

"That an offer for later?"  Sensitive hands ran over his back, and strong fingers
penetrated deep, massaging away the residual tension from the encounter in the
cantina and the docking bay.  "Are you ready?"

"Always."

Fighting the urge to bury himself in the man before him, Luke took it slowly,
savoring each millimeter of penetration: the tension as the tight ring fought
his entrance, the satisfying pop as it opened, only to clutch him beneath the
head, the maddening heat as he worked his way in.  He spread himself atop
Han's body, skin to skin, stretching his arms to massage and loosen the
deathgrip the pilot had on the blankets.

"All right?"

"Stay still.  It's been a while."  The words came out in short bursts between the
clenched teeth.

"Tell me when you're ready."  Luke busied himself kissing the neck and face beneath him.
"Would this help?"  An inquisitive hand wormed itself between Han and the bunk, stroking
him, savoring the hardness.

"Oh yeah."  Han raised his head for another kiss.  "Always does."  He pressed
back.  "Go ahead.  I'm ready."

Luke set a nice even pace, matching it with his hand.  Then, he slowed.  "Is
there a second in there?"

"Always."

"Oh good.  Because I'm next.  Hold on, lover, I'll teach you to fly without
a ship."  The dancer was back with a vengeance, even down to the faint
Huttese accent.  This time, the pace was very solid.

"You taught me that a long time ago."  Words failed as sensation overwhelmed
his senses.  For long minutes, it seemed the source of the whole universe
was concentrated below his waist, pulsating and culminating into a
an explosion so intense he wasn't sure the stars weren't real.

Luke waited until Han had come down a little before reaching his
own climax, wanting to feel it all, without distraction.  His head swam from
the juxtaposition of heat at his front, engulfing him, warming his chest
and the biting cold of space that seeped through the thin metal shell of the
hull and froze his back.  He buried his face in the shaggy dark hair,
taking in the scent and feel of his long-gone lover.

In the last instant, he tipped Han's face back to him, and kissed him
deeply, even as he pressed as far inside as he could.  He released
the warm lips, remaining spread atop the limp body of the pilot, as
he came down.

"Love you.  The wind blew you back to me," he whispered as he pulled away,
knees complaining from the metal deckplates.

Han stood up, painfully.  Next time, they were definitely putting some padding down.
"Bed, now."  He dropped onto the bunk and pulled Luke down to him by the trailing braid.

*Your cub was sorely missed, Old One.*  Chewbacca flipped a couple of switches
and stared at the nothingness of hyperspace through the transparasteel canopy.

"You can't know how pleased I am about that.  I was so very afraid your
partner had forgotten him.  That would have devastated him."

*My Hahnko never forgets a good thing.  And the cub was very good for him.
When they were together, he was happier than I had ever seen him.  He
drank very little, worked hard and fought not at all.  When he returned from
the Hutt the last time, it was as if someone had cut down his own Life-tree.
He threw himself into his work, but there was no joy.  He still drinks too
much.  After the crisis on Alderaan, and if he wishes it, would you let the
young one come with us?*

"I promise nothing, my friend, save that I will consider it and listen to the Force."

Chewbacca listened intently and then sniffed before barking laughter.
*The cubs have finished rutting, Old One.  It is safe to use the fresher and
the food synth.  This is going to be a long trip.*

"A sentiment worth repeating."  Obi-wan stood and patted a furry shoulder.
"Shall I bring you something?"

*Kaf please, in my own cup.  You'll know which it is.*

Chapter 5: Rescue