by Alex Wheeler
"New Alderaan," one of his captors said bitterly. "Home sweet home."
"You can sit."
Luke's captors had shoved him into a small makeshift enclosure, bounded by two hanging sheets and a few thin sheets of plasteel propped against each other. The man facing him had a round face dusted by a reddish gold beard. Laugh lines framed his wide mouth, but the eyes beneath the bushy blond eyebrows shone with sorrow. "I said, sit."
When Luke didn't move, his captors each put a hand on one of his shoulders, and forced him to the ground. He sat awkwardly, his arms still pinned behind him.
The bearded man glanced at the others. "Leave us."
The short, stocky one frowned. "Nahj, it's not safe."
The seated man gave him a thin smile. "I hardly think he poses much of a threat. And—" He gave Luke a pointed look. "He knows you'll be standing just outside, blasters at the ready. He's no fool. Are you?"
Luke said nothing.
The men nodded, and slipped out of the lean-to.
"You can call me J'er Nahj," the bearded man said, once they were alone. "And you are?"
Luke didn't answer.
"You're wondering why they brought you here," Nahj said.
"They did it because you told them to," Luke guessed.
"Not exactly." He sighed. "Not you."
Luke's eyes widened. He should have realized. "You were trying to kidnap Leia?" A flush of anger rose in him, and he readied himself to go for his lightsaber.
J'er Nahj looked abashed. "I'm not a bad man, you know. I'm hardly in the business of kidnapping."
"Then what kind of business are you in?"
"Before?" J'er Nahj raised his eyebrows. "I sold durasteel fixtures for 'freshers. You wanted a new sink or a fancy shower? I was your man. Outfitted 'freshers all over the sector. Before. Now ask me, 'Before what?'"
"I don't have to," Luke said. He still didn't understand why he was here, but it was painfully obvious why the rest of them were. "Before Alderaan. You're all survivors, aren't you?"
J'er Nahj barked out a harsh laugh. "Survivors? Didn't you hear? There were no survivors. An entire planet, gone in an instant. There were those of us who were offplanet, yes. Those of us who were at a 'fresher convention on Delaya while our wives were vaporized in the middle of cooking a pot of L'lahsh, our children blown to bits while running through the meadow picking t'iil blossoms. There were those of us who escaped," he said fiercely. "But make no mistake. None of us survived."
CHAPTER SIX
I'm sorry," Luke said. "But the Delayan government had offered to help you. You don't need—"
"Who do you think shoved us into this, the thousand in the warehouse next to this one, and the warehouse next to that. The Delayan government cares nothing for us. Whatever lies they may tell your princess."
"She's your princess," Luke said quietly.
"Then why does she let us suffer like this, while she dines with the Delayan space-slugs who left us here?"
"Because she doesn't know," Luke insisted.
"She had her chance to find out," Nahj snapped. "I requested an audience as soon as I found out she was coming. Her response made her feelings perfectly clear: Meeting with people like us is beneath her."
"But we never even got your request!" Luke protested, his thoughts spinning. The Delayan officials must have intercepted Nahj's message. Of course: They were trying to keep Leia from finding out about this place. "You've been lied to—but so have we."
"Politicians believe what they want to believe," Nahj scoffed. "The Delayans have only opened their planet to us so they can get their hands on what's left of Alderaan's wealth. Your Princess Leia will only acknowledge the truth if we force her to see it."
"Except that you ended up with the wrong hostage," Luke pointed out. "So what are you supposed to do now?"
"True, we don't have the princess," Nahj admitted. "But perhaps we have something she wants."
"Me?"
"It's an honest trade. She comes to us, she looks suffering in the face without turning away—and she gets you back, unharmed. If she doesn't care about you enough to come…"
"You'd…what?" Luke asked, eyeing the plasteel separating him from the men with blasters. "Kill me?"
Nahj winced.
"I don't think so," Luke said. "The people of Alderaan love peace. They still love it. And I think, despite all this, you're a peaceful man."
"Alderaan was a peaceful planet," a woman's voice said from behind Luke. "Until the princess and her father dragged it into war. Now we bear the consequences of her rash actions. It seems only right she should bear some of her own."
"Halle, please," Nahj said in a stony voice.
Luke twisted around to see a woman with short crimson hair, her mouth an angry red slash across her face. She was only a couple years older than Luke. "I didn't come here to fight," she said, looking like she regretted that fact. "Shell's outside. He wanted me to bring him over, to apologize."
Nahj nodded his permission.
"Shell!" she called out. "He says okay. You can come in."
Nothing happened. "One second," Halle said, slipping through an opening in the sheet.
"You can do it," Luke heard a man say. "It'll only be hard until you get the first word out—then, easy as skinning a nerf."
"He doesn't have to if he doesn't want to," Halle snapped.
"I want to," a young boy's voice said. A familiar voice.
"Good boy," the man said.
"You'll make him soft," Halle complained.
"No softer than you, deep down," the man said. "Even if you won't admit it." There was a long silence. When Halle reappeared, her cheeks were glowing, and her fingers strayed across her lips. But the smile disappeared as soon as she caught Luke watching her. "This is Shell," she said, slinging an arm around a young boy with brown hair and a familiar frown. "I believe you two know each other."
Luke still couldn't believe they'd used a child as bait.
"Sorry I lied to you," the boy said. He looked much less helpless than he had at the T'iil Blossom Homes, but no less miserable. "They weren't gonna hurt you or anything. They said it was the right thing to do."
"Lying is never the right thing to do," Luke said.
Halle scowled. "The kid's sorry," she spat out. "The least you can do is forgive him."
"I do forgive him," Luke shot back. "He's a child. What's your excuse?"
"Shell, go outside," Halle said tightly. "I'll be there in a minute."
"Halle…" Nahj's voice held a warning. "Maybe you should go, too."
"Maybe you should get on with things," Halle said.
"You don't have to do this," Luke told them. "Let me go, and I'll bring her to you myself. As soon as Leia sees all this, she'll want to help."
"Let you go?" Halle grimaced. "So you can run back to your princess and have us all arrested?"
"Leia will want to help," Luke promised. "Do you really want to teach your son that blackmail and kidnapping is the right way to fix things?"
"My son?"
"Shell is no one's son," Nahj said quietly. "His family was murdered on Alderaan. He was here visiting his grandmother, but the shock of the attack was too much for her and…He's on his own now. We all look after him. Him and the others."
An orphan.
Luke saw the smoking remains of the moisture farm on Tatooine, Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen's skeletons smoldering in the ruins.
Creating orphans was the Empire's specialty.
"I will help, if you let me," Luke said. "But this is not the way."
Nahj tightened his lips and looked away. Halle shook her head in disgust and rubbed a hand across her eyes.
Their gaze was only off him for a moment, but it was enough. Time seemed to draw itself out, slowing to a crawl. Luke twisted his arms around, grasping the hilt of his lightsaber. He activated the blade and, in one smooth, swift chop, sliced through the cords binding his wrists. He leapt to his feet, blade outstretched, its tip centimeters away fro
m J'er Nahj's throat.
"Don't," Nahj said quietly. Luke realized he was speaking to Halle, who was about to lunge at him, despite the fact that she was unarmed.
"One scream," Halle warned Luke in a low voice, "and you're facing ten men with blasters."
"One centimeter," Luke said, glancing toward the lightsaber blade. "Are your men with blasters faster than my blade?" He had no intention of hurting Nahj, or any of them. But Halle had to believe he would.
Nahj shook his head. "We agreed no violence," he said, remarkably calm. He turned to Luke. "So what now?"
"Now?" Luke hesitated—then deactivated the lightsaber. Nahj emitted a barely noticeable sigh as the blue beam disappeared. "Now I contact Leia, and we try to find a way to help your people. Just as I said I would." He held out his hand. "One of your men took my comlink."
"Merely a precaution." Nahj pulled out his own comlink out from beneath his cloak and handed it to Luke. "Use mine."
"J'er!" Halle snapped. "If he calls in the authorities…"
Nahj ignored her. "Please," he told Luke. "If our methods were misguided, you must believe our motives were pure. We knew the princess would only be on Delaya for a short time, and that the government would do anything they could to prevent her from learning about our fate. We were desperate. We are desperate."
Luke flicked on the comlink.
"Luke!" Leia sounded relieved. "We've been looking everywhere for you! What happened? Is everything all right?"
Luke paused, meeting Nahj's searching gaze. Leia would be outraged if she learned the truth. She would never trust J'er Nahj—and that might get in the way of helping his people.
On the other hand, it felt wrong to lie to her.
What do I do? he asked silently, hoping that the mysterious certainty he'd felt earlier would return. But the Force, if that's what it had been, was silent. He was on his own.
"Everything's fine," he said steadily. "I just…decided to do a little exploring."
J'er Nahj breathed out the same quiet sigh he had when Luke pulled the lightsaber from his throat. Halle's scowl didn't fade.
"Are you on your way back?" Leia asked, still sounding anxious.
"Actually, I think you should join me here," Luke told her. "There's something you need to see."
CHAPTER SEVEN
You sure he didn't happen to mention what he was doing all the way out here?" Han asked, slogging through the muddy streets. If it was mud. It smelled more like raw sewage.
Leia shook her head. "Just said it was important that we come."
Han didn't have anything against the idea of coming to the rescue. Obviously the kid had gotten himself into some kind of trouble, as usual. Han just wished he'd found trouble a little closer to home.
Back at the hotel, they had autovalets, a greenputt course, fresh-squeezed juma juice, and bloody nerf steak—all paid in full by the Delayan government. Whereas here, on the outer edge of the city, all they had were abandoned construction sites, mounds of festering garbage, and sewage. Scrawny rodents with patches of greenish-yellow fur scampered in the gutters, and bludflies swarmed overhead. Han was sure he'd caught a glimpse of a borrat burrowing under a nearby building, at least two meters from tusk to tail. Not that Han had anything against life on the shady side of town—but a little luxury every once in a while never hurt.
The pubtrans flitter didn't even extend to this neighborhood, and the driver they'd hired had refused to drive them more than halfway. "You won't find anyone willing to take you to that part of town," he'd warned them. "You'd have to be crazy."
More like stubborn, Han thought, glancing at the princess. She'd just shrugged and insisted they walk. He didn't even know why he was still on this planet. One more day, he told himself. Then I'm out.
Chewbacca issued a low, gutteral growl. The Wookiee was crankier than usual
"You know why you couldn't be the one to stay behind," Han said. "If that Deputy Minister or his cronies try to track down the princess, someone needs to be there and talk 'em out of it. And something tells me Elad will do the job better than two droids and a Wookiee."
They hadn't been forbidden from leaving the hotel—not exactly. But that was because they hadn't asked. They'd snuck out the window, leaving Elad and the droids behind to explain things if it was discovered they were gone.
Chewbacca growled again.
"Because I don't want them here, bugging me!" Han said. "The little one's okay, but that protocol droid…" He shook his head. "Let's just say the less time I spend with him, the less chance he has of getting turned into a scrap-pile."
The Wookiee let out a mournful groan.
"Not so bad?" Han exclaimed. "Easy for you to say. The rustbucket's terrified of you. Has some crazy idea you're going to rip off his arms."
Chewbacca barked out a reply.
"Well, okay, so I am the one who gave him that idea. I just wanted him to shut his mouth for five seconds. Can you blame me?" Han swore under his breath as his boot squished into something soft and pungent. It looked like it had once been alive—but he didn't look too close.
"Han," Leia said quietly.
"I know, I know." Han scowled down at his boot, trying to scrape off the worst of it. "The bag of bolts comes in handy sometimes. Sometimes."
"No, Han. Look!"
Three men—No, he realized, not men. Boys—stood before them, blocking the narrow road. They stood mutely with their hands raised, palms up.
"What do you think they want?" Leia murmured. "Money?"
Han shot her a sharp look. Every once in a while, she said something that reminded him of the distance between them. It wasn't the kind you could cross in a ship. "Well, I doubt they're begging for the fun of it, Your Highness."
Without hesitating, Leia pulled out a pouch of credits, hurrying toward the boys. Something familiar about the setup clicked in Han's brain. "Leia, wait—"
Too late.
As she dropped a handful of credits into the tallest boy's outstretched hands, he snatched her wrist and twisted it behind her back. A rusted vibroblade appeared in his other hand. He held it to her throat.
"You kids crazy?" Han shouted. "You really want to face off against a Wookiee?"
To help get the point across, Chewbacca shook his furry fists in the air, roaring.
The other two kids looked nervous, but the one in charge didn't flinch. "Just give us all your credits and we'll leave you alone."
"And what makes you so sure we'll leave you alone?" Han shot back, his fingers twitching toward his blaster. Not that he'd shoot at a bunch of kids. But if he could scare them, or cause some kind of distraction…
He shook his head, tempted to laugh. Served him right, falling for such a worn-out stunt. He'd pulled it on more than a few clueless oldies himself back when he was a kid.
Not that he'd ever been dumb enough to attack a Wookiee.
"Do you know who I am?" Leia asked in an icy voice. "I'm—"
"Not the kind of gal who scares easy," Han said quickly. Talk about not having a clue. Did she really think it would help to tell them she was a princess? A rich princess? "And neither is my friend here."
Chewbacca roared again, louder this time. "So how 'bout you put down the knife—"
"How 'bout you stop wasting my time, old man," the kid snarled, "and hand over the credits."
"Old man?" Han took a step forward. He didn't need a blaster. Not to handle this punk. Chewbacca growled. "No thanks, buddy," Han said. "This one's all mine."
Han didn't hear the footsteps behind him, and he didn't hear the blasterfire. He just saw the laserbolt slam into the kid's blade, centimeters from Leia's neck. It was a clean hit—the blade went flying. The kid backed away, examining his hand like he couldn't believe it was still in one piece.
Han couldn't believe it either. It was one of the cleanest shots he'd ever seen. He whirled around. A plump old man stood behind him, his jaunty grin mostly covered by a thick, graying beard. Han scoured the streets, convinced this coul
dn't be the guy who'd fired the shot. But there was no one else around.
And the old guy was holding a smoking blaster. "Thought we agreed you kids weren't going to do this anymore!" he called out.
The lead kid reddened and retrieved his blade, shoving it into his back pocket. "Wasn't planning to," the kid said sullenly. "Not my fault they showed up in this neighborhood. They were asking for it."
"Come on, Mazi," the man said sternly. "Try it again and the deal's off."
"Yeah. Fine." He glared at Han. "But I could've taken you, old man. No question." He nodded to his friends and, without a word, they slipped away into the darkness."
Han grinned. The kid had spunk, you had to give him that. "Friends of yours?" he asked the old man.
"I pay them to run errands for me, do odd jobs, and the like, as long as they promise to stay out of trouble. That's the deal." He was talking to Han—but all the while, he was staring at Leia.
She glared back. "You're alive," she said flatly.
The man looked down at himself, as if examining the evidence. "So it would seem."
Leia had never expected to see him again.
"Princess." He took a step toward her, his arms outstretched, then hesitated and dropped them to his sides. "I'd heard you were here."
"And I—" Leia stopped, overwhelmed by a swirl of conflicting emotions. "I thought you were still on Alderaan."
He smiled gently. "I had some business on Delaya. I arrived here the day before the attack."
"I'm glad," she said flatly.
"This guy a friend of yours, Highness?" Han said.
"No." The word came automatically.
"Fess Ilee," he said, shaking hands with Han and nodding toward Chewbacca. "I am a friend of Bail Organa's."
"He was a friend to my father," Leia clarified. "But my father is dead."
"I am and always will be his friend," Fess said steadily.
He was a man of soft, rounded edges, with a belly bulging over his belt and the makings of a double chin. His fingers were stubby, his nose bulbous, and his mind seemed to be as fuzzy as the back of his neck. Leia had never been sure of his age—most of the time, he looked far older than her father, weathered and weak. But there had been moments when, out of the corner of her eye, she caught him moving with a surprising grace, the years falling away from his suddenly youthful face.
