The Princess, the Scoundrel, and the Farm Boy

by Alexandra Bracken

  And pulling off a narrow escape wasn’t such a bad feeling, either.

  Han had barely sat down in the pilot’s chair next to Chewie when the Wookiee pointed to the sensor scope, growling out a warning.

  Han’s stomach clenched at the sight of the large blip rapidly approaching them as they broke clear of Tatooine’s atmosphere and entered the black gaping mouth of outer space.

  “Looks like an Imperial cruiser,” he said with a grimace. “Our passengers must be hotter than I thought. Try and hold them off. Angle the deflector shield while I make the calculations for the jump to lightspeed.”

  As his hands flew over the navigation console, Han was vaguely aware of the silver-and-blue astromech droid rolling past the open cockpit door, beeping out what sounded like a few questions. Ignored, he rolled away, headed toward Luke and Ben to slip into a small space beside Threepio.

  Luke and Ben made their way into the cramped cockpit, where Han was continuing his calculations. Great. Now he had an audience.

  “Stay sharp,” he warned Chewie. “It looks like we have two more Imperial ships coming in. They’re going to try to cut us off before we can make the jump to hyperspace.”

  His copilot shot him an irritated look, clearly already two steps ahead of him. What could he say? One Imperial Star Destroyer, about fifty times the size of the Falcon, was enough to make him a little nervous. Three made him downright jumpy.

  Luke leaned forward for a better look. “Why don’t you outrun them? I thought you said this thing was fast!”

  What was that, the fourth time the kid had insulted his baby?

  “Watch your mouth, kid, or you’re going to find yourself floating home! We’ll be safe enough once we make the jump to hyperspace. Besides, I know a few maneuvers.” More to himself than the others he promised, “We’ll lose them!”

  The Millennium Falcon bucked wildly at the first hits from the Imperial cruisers. White-blue sparks flashed outside the viewport, but the shields held.

  “Here’s where the fun begins!” he told the others. Adrenaline pumped through him, filling his chest like a balloon.

  “How long before you can make the jump to lightspeed?” The old man was the calm eye at the center of a storm. His pale blue eyes watched the sea of stars in front of him. He didn’t seem particularly bothered even as the ship shuddered and rocked around them, like it was on the verge of exploding.

  “It’ll take a few moments to get the coordinates from the navicomputer.”

  “Are you kidding?” Luke cried. “At the rate they’re gaining…?”

  Good thing he didn’t finish that thought. Han glared at him. This kid, honestly.

  “Traveling through hyperspace ain’t like dusting crops, boy!” he said. “Without precise calculations we could fly right through a star or bounce too close to a supernova, and that’d end your trip real quick, wouldn’t it?”

  The fire from the Star Destroyers came fast and hot now that Chewie could no longer avoid the bulk of it. Han braced a hand against the side paneling of the cockpit and input the last of the new coordinates. A red light flashed overhead, beeping out warning after warning after warning. Han winced.

  “What does that flashing mean?” Luke asked.

  “We’re, uh, losing our deflector shield. Go strap yourself in—I’m going to make the jump to lightspeed.”

  And not a second too soon. Han met Chewbacca’s light eyes. “Punch it.”

  The stars brightened around them, flaring to life in the second before the ship picked up speed. He was pushed back against his seat as the Falcon flew forward into hyperspace, leaving the Imperial cruisers to eat its dust. Han let out an exhilarated laugh.

  Okay, so maybe that was the best part of flying.

  “THAT’S IT, EXACTLY. The Force is what gives a Jedi his power. It’s an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us; it binds the galaxy together.”

  Han’s fingers slowed from where he was patching some of the Falcon’s fried wiring. The whole ship had taken a battering during their narrow escape from the Star Destroyers, and he had kept busy seeing to fixing it.

  Meanwhile, the old man had been lecturing Luke from the moment the ship had settled into hyperspace. They, Chewie, and the droids had migrated from the cockpit to the central hold area. Han told himself he was only hanging around nearby to make sure they didn’t get any ideas about throwing their lightsabers around.

  He lifted his protective mask and cut the welding gun to watch their reflections in a nearby panel. The old man was still trying to teach the kid to hold his sword and had moved on to posing Luke like a toy doll. Ben adjusted the kid’s stance, pushing his legs out farther and having him raise his arms just so. Han wasn’t convinced one needed perfect technique when one had a sword that could cut through just about anything.

  “Like this, Luke,” Ben said, swinging his own lightsaber hilt down, then back up, then back down. Han was grateful Ben wasn’t working with his blade ignited like the kid was, otherwise the ship would be in pieces. “Block, strike, block—yes, precisely. Do you feel the Force moving through you? It guides your body and obeys your command in equal measure.”

  “Yeah,” Luke said. “Yeah, I mean, I think I feel something….”

  Uh-huh. Hacking at the air for a half hour was going to give you sore arms, but that was about it.

  “Wonderful.” Ben shifted, sliding his foot back, raising his lightsaber hilt again, and tilting his wrists back. “Strike position. Relax your grip slightly. This leaves your chest open to attack, so you must only hold this position for no more than a moment.”

  Luke arched his back, and the pose was so strange Han couldn’t keep his chuckle in. The kid must have heard it because he scowled and switched the lightsaber off. “Oh, this is pointless. What can I really learn on a ship in a few hours?”

  Exactly. Han dropped his mask back down over his face and returned to the circuitry in front of him.

  “I do not expect you to master everything in mere minutes, and you should not expect that of yourself, either. That is a path to frustration, anger—and both are dangerous.”

  As he switched the welder off again, Han heard Luke ask, “What do you mean?”

  “There are two sides of the Force,” Ben continued. “The light side of the Force, the way of the Jedi, aligns with selflessness, enlightenment, mercy, and compassion. The dark side, the way of the Sith, deals in hatred, fear, anger, jealousy. You must learn to control your emotions, otherwise they will control you.”

  Ha! Han thought. Easier said than done. Wasn’t the mix of all that what made them humans?

  “Why do some go to the dark side?” he heard Luke ask. “If they know that it brings destruction and pain, what’s the draw?”

  “Everyone has their own destinies,” the old man said. “The Force works in mysterious ways, but it leads us to where we need to be in order to achieve balance. Many Sith believe that the dark side holds more power, but that is simply not true.”

  Han strained his ears to catch what the old man said next.

  “It was the Force that brought me into your life, and it is the Force that will guide you to your destiny.”

  It was a comforting thought, even Han had to admit—the idea that everything happened for a reason. But the part about not being in the pilot seat of his own life rubbed at him in a bad way. And he knew firsthand that “good” and “evil” were not as cut-and-dry as the old loon was making them sound. Most people, himself included, had to live in that narrow, fuzzy bit of gray in between. Because what ensured a long life tended to be good aim with a blaster, a fast ship, and dependable friends—not hoping some big energy field had your back.

  Everyone was just living and trying to get by in bad situations. Why should Han be any different? He sat up a little straighter, shaking his head. From an early age, he’d learned always to rely on himself to decide his future, and nothing was going to change that now. All these causes people got behind—the F
orce, even the new Rebel Alliance—they only led straight to tragedy. Han had seen enough of life to know that, too.

  The kid continued to slide between stances, blocking and striking at an invisible enemy. Han was so busy pretending he wasn’t watching, he missed the R2 unit rolling up behind him until the thing knocked into him and whistled to get his attention.

  “You finished scanning the hyperdrive? Everything look good?” Han asked.

  The R2 unit whistled an affirmative and rolled past him before Han could ask about the sensor transceiver. The floor paneling rattled as the droid’s wheels moved over it, taking the droid into the central hold. Han was about to turn back to lock up the circuit panel when he saw the fossil wave the droid over. Luke had a look of intense concentration on his face as he pivoted around and around in a circle, lifting his lightsaber this way, that way, clearly lost in his own world.

  The R2 unit moved to Ben’s side as if it were his faithful pet—an image that was further reinforced by the old man’s stroking a hand over its domed head.

  “It’s good to fly with you again, my old friend,” the old man said, so softly Han wasn’t sure he had heard him right. But it wasn’t Han’s business either way. He knelt down to pile his tools into their box and went back to his work.

  “Ben!” he heard Luke say. “Are you all right? What’s wrong?”

  Han leaned back again, peering into the central hold area. The old man swayed on his feet, pressing a hand to his white hair. “I felt…a great disturbance in the Force. It was as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror and were…silenced. I fear something terrible has happened.”

  Han gave up pretending not to be listening and made his way inside the cramped space.

  “Well,” he said, to lighten the mood, “you can forget your troubles with those Imperial slugs. I told you I’d outrun ’em.”

  The kid had his lightsaber in his hands and was squaring off with a fist-sized seeker droid Han used for target practice. It floated and bobbed in the air. Past it, Chewie was locked in his own battle. He faced the little astromech droid across the Dejarik board, focused on the small holographic monsters on the table between them. He made his move. A monster clobbered one of the droid’s across the board.

  “Don’t everyone thank me at once,” Han said dryly.

  “Now be careful, Artoo…” the protocol droid began as Han took a seat.

  The R2 droid reached out a little claw hand and tapped his screen. One of his creatures moved to a new square. Chewie’s temper flared and he began shouting in Wookiee at the droid.

  “He made a fair move!” The golden droid said, and Han honestly thought he would have wagged a finger at the Wookiee if he physically could. “Screaming about it won’t help you.”

  “Let him have it. It’s not wise to upset a Wookiee.” Han crossed his arms over his chest, brows raised.

  “But, sir,” the droid protested, “no one worries about upsetting a droid.”

  “That’s ’cause droids don’t pull people’s arms out of their socket when they lose.”

  The protocol droid’s round eyes flashed. “I see your point, sir. I suggest a new strategy, Artoo. Let the Wookiee win.”

  The R2 unit whistled in protest, but Han had already turned his attention to where Luke was standing at the center of the hold, lightsaber humming in his hands.

  “Remember, a Jedi can feel the Force flowing through him,” Ben said.

  “So…it controls my actions?” Luke asked, clearly confused.

  “Partially. But it also obeys your commands.”

  The seeker droid floated to one side of Luke, then lunged to the other, as if taunting him. It flew back and made another fast-as-lightning move behind him. Han caught himself holding his breath as he watched. A bright laser bolt flew out of the seeker droid, nailing Luke in the leg. The kid tumbled over with a squawk of alarm.

  Han laughed…and laughed. Of course. “Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good weapon at your side.”

  And the old man’s methods had just proven that all over again.

  Luke turned to Han. “You don’t believe in the Force, do you?”

  Wasn’t that obvious? “I’ve flown from one side of this galaxy to the other. I’ve seen a lot of strange stuff, but I’ve never seen anything to make me believe there’s one all-powerful ‘Force’ controlling everything. There’s no mystical energy field that controls my destiny.”

  Instead of glaring at Han or trying to start an argument Han was more than ready for, the old man merely smiled.

  “It’s just a lot of tricks and nonsense,” Han insisted.

  The old man rose to his feet, smoothing his brown robes as he searched the hold for something. Ah—a helmet.

  “I suggest you try it again, Luke,” he said, placing the large white helmet on the kid’s head. Its blast shield was down, effectively blinding him.

  “I can’t even see,” Luke said, laughing. “How am I supposed to fight?”

  “Your eyes can deceive you. Don’t trust them.”

  Han rolled his eyes at the old man’s words. This was going to be good.

  The remote shot straight up into the air, resetting. Luke swung the sword around so blindly, Han almost jumped between the blue lightsaber and the tender walls of his ship. But the seeker got there first, this time sending a bolt of hot laser right into Luke’s behind. Han almost fell out of his chair laughing as the poor kid yelped.

  “Stretch out with your feelings,” Ben said, undaunted. “Luke, you can do this. Trust your instincts.”

  To Han’s surprise, Luke squared his shoulders and stood in position again. His hands were steady as they held the lightsaber. Even Chewie and the droids turned to watch. But no matter how many times the seeker droid bopped around the kid, clearly trying to bait him into turning or dodging, Luke stayed still. Han was so focused on watching Luke that the sudden zap of energy from the droid startled him.

  But not Luke. The kid swung the sword around expertly, deflecting the red bolt. Han’s eyes widened. And when he pulled off the helmet, Luke looked like even he couldn’t believe it.

  Ben clapped his hands. “You see? You can do it!”

  “I call it luck,” Han muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. It was one thing to do it against a remote-controlled droid and a whole other game to do it against the living.

  “In my experience, there’s no such thing as luck,” Ben said as he rose stiffly onto his feet. “How much longer until we reach the Alderaan system?”

  Despite his obvious pleasure at the kid’s finally scoring one against the seeker droid, Han could see the old man’s face was still pale. Han could tell there was something stirring beneath the calm waters of his exterior.

  “About twenty minutes?” Han guessed. “If you need to take a load off, there’s a bunk in the back.”

  “Much appreciated,” Ben said with a nod.

  “Third door on your left,” Han called after him, craning his neck to watch as the old man disappeared.

  Chewie was grumbling about some move the droid had made when Han turned to look at Luke. The kid was practicing some of the moves Ben had shown him earlier, clearly envisioning himself as the lone hero in some great battle.

  It occurred to Han that he didn’t know the first thing about the kid, other than that he’d ticked off someone in the Imperial forces. Been there, Han thought. It irritated him, his curiosity about Luke. How he could still be so…energetic about the idea of being part of some bigger force. So much of Han’s own survival had depended on evading questions that he’d lived under the philosophy of “ask no questions, get no lies” for years. He didn’t ask people about themselves because he didn’t want them to ask him questions he couldn’t or wouldn’t answer.

  But just like that, Han found himself breaking his own rule. “So, is he your grandfather or something?”

  Luke’s bright blue eyes flashed. “Ben? He’s a great man, you know. A Jedi Master.”

  H
an snorted. Or so the old man said. “That’s not what I asked.”

  “Oh, no. But he knew my father. They fought together in the Clone Wars. He’s the one who gave me my father’s old lightsaber.” Luke held it up for Han to inspect.

  “Nice.” Han pushed against the feeling of anger balling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t claim very many honorable qualities, but not trying to pull anything over on impressionable youth was one of them. He only took advantage of people who deserved it, thank you very much.

  “But why couldn’t dear ol’ Dad give it to you himself?”

  Luke’s expression darkened, and Han suddenly felt like the biggest pile of rancor poodoo. Right. If Ben’s story was true, it meant Luke’s father had been a Jedi. And the Jedi were gone. Hunted and killed as Emperor Palpatine rose to power.

  “Both he and my mother died when I was a baby,” Luke explained. “I grew up on Tatooine with my Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru.”

  Wow. He really was fresh off the moisture farm. “And they let you go off on this joy ride?”

  Chewie roared in victory, slamming his furry fists down on the game board. If Han had glanced away, he would have missed the flash of sharp, deep pain cross Luke’s face. “No…they were…” he struggled with the words. “They were murdered. By the Empire.”

  Scratch that. As Luke told him everything that had happened back on Tatooine, Han felt like the biggest steaming pile of rancor poodoo in the history of the galaxy.

  “Geez, kid…” Han said when Luke had finished. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Let me see if I got this straight. You and your uncle bought those two droids off Jawas, and it turns out the short one has something stored on it the Empire wants? Then he runs off, claiming he’s owned by a Ben Kenobi. You chase him, barely survive a Sand People attack, and then willingly follow the fossil back to his home. Which is a cave. Where he has lived alone for twenty years. With only his make-believe stories about Jedi to keep him company.”